Notes: Shay should add this to his resume: deadly killer and master of stealth snuggles. *giggles*


Chapter 11: Put Me Back Together


Shay held back a sneeze as a bit of hay tickled his nose. He was stiff, and more than a little cranky after spending the better part of three hours in a haystack that was conveniently located right out front of the small tavern he was watching. There was definitely something fishy about the place, but he doubted the Assassins were involved. If anything, he thought it might be the meeting place of an opium smuggling ring. Illegal, yes, but hardly worth his time. He watched as a plump man with a bushy reddish beard exited the tavern with a whore hanging off his arm. He was a right hog in armor, that one. Shay doubted he'd earned a single coin of his apparent wealth by honest means, but it wasn't his concern. Irritably, he crawled out of the hay, brushing it off of his clothes as headed for the tavern door. There was only so much he could learn by watching from the outside.

It was a rush of activity inside the tavern. In one corner a group of men were having a tiff over a card game, while a barmaid gave an unruly patron a black eye and a band of Irishmen played a fast, upbeat tune. Shay shook his head and seated himself at the bar beside a surly looking redcoat. He ordered an ale, and kept quiet as he managed to listen in on a group of men in the far corner as they spoke. He heard mentions of deadlines, inquiries about the quality of their product and a comment that the source was overcharging. Opium dealers, as he'd suspected. He dropped the payment for his drink on the counter and left.

Oddly enough, Shay's first thought was that he wasn't angry about wasting time – he was angry about wasting time that he could have been spending with Haytham. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the grey, overcast sky. When had he started thinking like that? He turned his collar up against the cold wind and went on his way. He knew that chill in the air, the way it felt like ice as he inhaled. It would snow soon, probably within the hour. Just as he thought it, he saw the first snowflake float down toward the ground. Still feeling irritable, he made his way back to Fort Arsenal.


"Opium smugglers," Shay said flatly, and glared at Gist from where he sat on the opposite side of the desk in Haytham's office. "Not Assassins."

"How was I to know? All Charlie boy and I heard was one of them talking about offing a man that was an 'obstacle' to their plans." Gist grumbled, almost petulantly.

"It doesn't matter, just make damn sure next time. I don't want to wind up killin' innocent men. All right, they aren't exactly innocent, but you know what I mean." Shay retorted, regretting taking out his foul mood on Gist almost immediately. He meant well, he really did, but he also had a habit of getting on Shay's nerves – as fond of him as Shay was.

"What has you on the high ropes, anyway?" Gist asked, before Shay could make a swift exit.

"D'you really need t'ask?" Shay groaned. "I spent hours hidin' in a damned haystack for nothin'. I could've spent that time with Hay – The harbour master. The Morrigan still needs a few repairs after takin' down the Aquila."

"Sure. The Morrigan." Gist replied, obviously holding back laughter. Shay knew it was too late the second the first syllable escaped from his lips. "Well, did you kiss him yet?" Gist inquired for the umpteenth time, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"If I say yes, you're goin' to start askin' me if I fucked him yet, aren't you?" Shay said in reply, cracking a smile in spite of himself.

"Ha! Probably." Gist told him with a shrug. "Well did you? Kiss him, I mean. I Have to keep the Morrigan's crew updated, after all..."

"No." Shay said truthfully, and rolled his eyes – trying not to think of how much he wished he had. "What do you all think is so damned funny about the two o' us together, though? Not that we are, you idiot."

"It's not that, it's the way you're both acting like a pair of lovestruck virgins who don't know their head from their arse. It's kind of cute, actually." Shay wasn't sure if he should just glare at him in disgust or burst into laughter. Because, yes, he could see where they were coming from with that. Either way, it didn't stop him from slinking out of the room like a beaten dog. If they'd noticed that much, he and Haytham were both done for.

Speaking of Haytham, he found him in the spare room on the ground floor that was slowly turning into a library of sorts. He was seated at the long wooden table in the center of the room, with a pile of books stacked on the table beside him. Shay silently sat next him.

"Still on about that thing?" He asked, watching Haytham absently twirl the precursor medallion in his fingers. He didn't really know the story behind the artifact, just that it was the sole reason that he had been sent to the colonies. Setting up a proper foothold for the Templars, Haytham had told him, hadn't been the priority at the time.

"It keeps me occupied." He replied, dropping it onto the table and turning to face Shay. "Were the Assassins involved?"

"Opium smugglers," Shay grumbled and shook his head. "Bloody waste o' time if you ask me, Sir."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Shay felt like a kid in church, forced to sit still when his body screamed at him to run a muck like a little demon. All he wanted was to just lean over and press himself against Haytham, but he wasn't sure how he'd react. He was relatively certain that Haytham wasn't exactly a cuddler. If anything, he was probably like a cat – warm and snuggly when he wanted to be, and the very definition of wrath if he wasn't being shown affection on his terms. So, needless to say, it nearly put Shay in a state of shock when Haytham shut his book and slid his hand under the table, lacing his fingers through Shay's.

"I was going to ask how long we could keep avoiding this conversation, but it seems like we do not really need to talk about it." Haytham said, giving Shay a sideways glance.

"I'm just tryin' to figure out how it happened." Shay admitted, casting caution to the winds and leaning against Haytham. He made no sign of resistance as Shay let his head rest on his shoulder. Shay's eyes fluttered closed as he tried to permanently burn the moment into his memory.

"I'm less concerned with how, and wondering why. It is not like me. Yet I..." Haytham's voice trailed off, and Shay felt him sigh more than he heard it. "I have never felt like this. It is confusing, truth be told."

"But it feels right?" Shay asked, not daring to open his eyes. He didn't want to move away from Haytham's warmth.

"Yes," He said quietly, and gave Shay's hand a gentle squeeze. For the first time in years, Shay felt like everything might be right with the world. Haytham had been a shoulder to lean on when he was falling to pieces, and he hadn't given up on him when he needed it the most. He was a trusted friend and confidant, but more than that now. He was someone Shay could count on to pull him back from the edge, to at least try and fix the broken parts even when he couldn't do it himself.

"Shay?"

"Hmm?"

"You do realize any of the others could walk in on us like this, right?" Haytham said, stating the obvious yet unspoken reality of the situation.

"Bother." Shay grumbled, grudgingly pulling away from Haytham. "You know, they've noticed."

"Obviously," Haytham replied in an uncharacteristically defeated tone. "I wonder how they would take it, if it became reality for them and not just something to jest about."

"For what it matters, I doubt it would make a difference for Gist, Weeks or Thomas. I can't speak for the others." Shay replied, staring vacantly at Haytham's piece of Eden that was still resting on the tabletop.

"The only one that might actually give us trouble is Church. But he and I have never seen eye to eye. He's a selfish bastard, mark my words. Thank mercy he's leaving for Boston tomorrow." Haytham said tartly. "At any rate, I have some work to catch up on. I will see you tonight." Haytham added fondly, and gave Shay a light pat on the shoulder as he left the library.


Later that night, Shay lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of the fire crackling in the grate. It was near midnight, he guessed. Haytham hadn't come to bed yet, and he started wondering if he had changed his mind. Shay rolled over onto his side, and watched as the flames slowly consumed the large log he'd dropped in the middle of the hearth. Time seemed to have skidded to a halt as he waited for Haytham to come. Finally, he heaved a sigh and buried his face in the pillow, resigning himself to sleeping alone for the night.

He dreamed of Liam. They were camping out on the homestead in the fall, like they always did when the weather was nice. Liam was laughing at something he'd said, and Shay flopped back onto the ground to look up at the stars. Liam laid down beside him, and whispered 'I love you, idiot' in Shay's ear. Shay turned to him, intent on taking him in a kiss, only to find the ground covered in snow and an empty place where Liam should be.

But it wasn't the homestead anymore. It was ice that he was laying on, not snow. His body ached everywhere, like he'd been run over by a horse and kicked in the gutter. He tasted blood in his mouth, and knew there was at least one bullet in his shoulder. Liam was there, he knew. Just on the other side. Shay steeled himself, knowing what was waiting. And there he was, broken and bleeding. He stared up at Shay pleadingly, and Shay wished to God he could do something – anything to save him.

"No!" Shay screamed as the light went out in his eyes, and the world started to fall to pieces around him. Now he was a boy, at sea with his father. He clung to the ship's railing for dear life as the waves relentlessly tossed the ship about like a toy. Shay was chilled to the bone; his clothes hung about him like limp rags saturated from the driving rain. The deck was a flurry of activity as the men scrambled to obey his father's orders, some of them being swept clean off the rigging by the wind and the occasional rogue wave. How his father kept the ship afloat, Shay would never know. It was just as the storm was at it's worst that a sound like the wrath of God himself came from the sky and a flash of lightening caught the foremast. Shay closed his eyes, trying to black out the screams and the horror on on his father's face as the force of the impact threw him flying backward, down into ocean's embrace.

"No!" Shay cried, coming awake with a violent jerk. He probably would have rolled right off the edge of the bed, if not for the weight of a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Panting, and hopelessly trying to reign in the panic, he extricated himself from Haytham and sat up on the edge of the bed. He didn't usually dream of his father's death. Not since he was a young man when the tragedy was fresh in his mind. Frankly, the nightmare was no less harrowing than it had been all those years ago. He fought back tears and struggled to breathe. It wouldn't do to wake Haytham, who had apparently come after all. He must have gotten caught up working on something.

"Shay?" So much for that, then. Shay just shook his head, and hid his face in hands. At least it was still dark, he figured. Haytham wouldn't have to see him trembling like a child. ...Or not. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't for Haytham to gather him up in his arms and hold him close. Shay clung to him, to the warmth and safety of his presence. Vacantly, Shay wondered if he was just too broken to ever be fixed - if a soul drenched in so much death was worthy of redemption. ...If he was even worthy of Haytham's concern, never mind his affection. He didn't deserve to be loved. He was a murderer, nothing more. And with that thought, he just fell apart and he couldn't even try to grab at the pieces of his fragile spirit as it shattered into a million broken shards.


Hog in armor – A well-dressed lout

To be on high ropes – To be angry/irritable