ZIIO

How could harsh reality ruin a perfect day?

Those words were like poison on my lips. They dashed our dreams; they turned the possibility of love to dust. But they had to be said. I was forced to choose between a man who wanted me, and a boy who needed me.

I could not live a day without my son. For five years, Ratohnhaké:ton was the reason I woke every morning. He was half me, half Haytham, yet unique from both of us. He was my treasure and pride...and he was out there somewhere, crying from the loss of his mother. Could I keep him waiting any longer?

It was easy to see how upset Haytham was when I spoke of this. It shattered my heart that I couldn't possibly comfort him, either. I was the one thing he yearned for; he needed...and I was about to slip away. In all honesty, I needed him too. What if I returned home, and every day I knew that the man who saved my life was one I would never see again? Could I live with that emptiness forever?

No. I would have to find a way that we could stay in contact. I needed him.

I loved him.

I knew it all along. I was simply afraid to admit it, even to myself. I was trying to protect us both; if I told Haytham how I really felt...well, it would make my parting a lot harder. Neither of us would move on that way. At least now I was strong enough to be true to myself. I truly loved him; everything from his seductive smirk, flawless eyes, well-meaning voice and wise words. I was almost certain he felt the same, but we were only trying to protect each other. And so we remained silent.

Dinner was a deadly silent affair. We took our seats by Henry and Rose, and swallowed our meal like it was tasteless. I barely noticed what I was eating. Only Rose seemed to notice that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, you two?"

Haytham nodded bleakly.

"We're fine." I mustered a convincing smile.

"Good."

"We were just discussing how and when Ziio will return home," said Haytham.

Henry looked over curiously. "You're going home?"

"I'm afraid so," I sighed. "But not today. Soon."

He exchanged a sorrowful glance with Rose, before nodding earnestly. "You should at least finish the ointment the doctor gave you. I wouldn't advise taking the journey with your injuries."

"I do feel better. There is no pain, now."

"Henry is right," Haytham put in. "You ought to finish your treatment, to be on the safe side."

"As you wish."

As I chewed on some meat, I thought of all that Haytham's staff had done for me. Not only had they offered me comfort and security, but friendship. Something I never dreamed I'd have from either of them. I'd miss it sorely.

"It feels like you only arrived yesterday," despaired Rose. "Yet it feels like I have known you for longer."

I smiled sadly. "I know. I am thankful for everything you have done for me. All of you."

Three faces looked up from their meals and returned my grin. Even their eyes sparkled with sorrow. They will miss me, too.

"Hm...if you have to finish the treatment, then you will still be here at the Templar meeting," thought Haytham. "Are you prepared to keep quiet again?"

"If it means I can see my son."

"Good. How much ointment is left?"

"About enough for three more days." It was Henry who answered my question through a mouthful of meat. "Pardon my manners."

"Pardoned," his master laughed. "So...that would mean...yes, if the meeting is on Saturday evening, I can take you home that night."

"No...that will pose a risk. Remember, my people do not trust the Templars. What if they see you?"

"Can't you tell them that I am no threat?"

"Only after they have cut your throat," I chuckled.

"True. So, would you rather it if I helped you halfway there? On horseback?"

"That...would be perfect. Thank you." Why were the words so hard to say? I swallowed and stared down at my cutlery. I was planning to go home. This was really happening. Shouldn't I be happy?

We all continued to eat, but the woe hung in the air like the smoke from the candle. Nobody wanted me to leave. They'd all become used to me being around, as if I was part of the furniture. Would Rose and Henry remember me? I would certainly remember them.

Stop despairing, Ziio, I told myself firmly. You have no choice.

Suddenly Haytham began to cough. I ignored him at first, staring at my plate with little appetite. The spluttering grew louder; rougher. This time I looked up in fright. Haytham was bent double over his plate, his mouth in an 'o'-shape and his skin paper-white. What was happening?

Rose was also curious. "Mister Kenway, are you alright?"

No reply. Haytham began gasping for breath, his eyes bulging in his skull. His hands wrapped around his neck as he coughed...and my stomach dropped. Adrenaline struck me like a poison dart. I knew what was happening. It could've been the sauce. It could've been a leaf, or even a bone in the meat. He was choking.

I jumped from my seat. "Haytham!" I cried. "What is wrong? Please! Answer!"

Nothing but more struggling for breath. I had never seen him like it. He writhed in his seat; his face went from white to deep red. My heart began pounding in my chest.

What do I do?

Suddenly an image of my son flashed through my head. All the shouting of the staff (both off their chairs and shaking Haytham desperately) disappeared. Ratohnhaké:ton's choking body rolled before my bewildered eyes. His infant face, wild with terror...

No. No flashbacks...not...now...

I took a deep breath, wiped my forehead and focused. All I needed to do was lift him up.

"Move out of the way!" I cried.

The servants obeyed. I rushed forward and grabbed Haytham's torso roughly. Momentarily bearing all his weight, I panicked and almost fell to the floor. Haytham continued to gag, flailing like he was having a fit.

Concentrate! my mind screamed. One, two, three...

With all my might I wrenched his body backwards. He rasped, and flopped like a rabbit. It hadn't worked. I couldn't see through the sweat dripping down my face. My muscles throbbed with the effort to hold him. Rose and Henry stood huddled by the table, their faces white with terror.

I didn't care. I had to get Haytham to breathe.

With one final desperate prayer, I squeezed him again...and he gasped. A shallow sound of desperate inhalation filled the air. It had worked.

All the shock, all the adrenaline and fear...it was all released in a shaky sigh. I'd done it. I'd just saved Haytham's life. It still hadn't hit me enough. Time was stood still; all I could hear was Haytham's steadying breaths, and my stuttering heartbeat. Then I collapsed onto the floor, with all of Haytham's weight on top of me.

"Haytham!" Rose eventually gasped, leaning down beside us. Her eyes were almost tearful with fright.

"Is...is he alright?" I struggled.

Henry bent down with difficulty. He rolled Haytham off my chest and onto the floorboard next to me. "He is conscious," he murmured, "if a little speechless."

I lay my head on the wooden board and sighed once more. I'd come so close – so close – to losing him. I supposed it wasn't always him saving my neck, then. I was more than capable of doing the same.

As time began to move again, Rose – still pale with shock – helped me to my feet. I looked down at Haytham, still spread-eagled on the floor. He was blinking, at least. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. He was trying to speak.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but be secretly amused by this. Poor Master Kenway: here he lay in this most undignified position, saved by a woman. Bless his heart. Even in this, his most ungentlemanly state, he was perfect. It gave him a look of...innocence. Vulnerability. Helplessness, in the sweetest way.

"This would be what caused it," said Rose. She indicated a small white bone next to her shoe. "He must have choked on that."

"That was my fault!" Henry's face was suddenly panicked. "I was halfway through chopping it, and...and..."

"Not...your fault."

We all fell silent. The words came from Haytham, even if they were muffled. Rose and Henry exchanged anxious glances. I was first to kneel to him, and place a hand on his wrist. To my utmost relief, his pulse was steady. He sat up against the leg of the table, his eyes still filled with tears.

"Such incidents happen," he reassured Henry. The old man seemed unconvinced, but nodded nonetheless. Haytham then turned to me. "As for you...thank you. You saved my life, Ziio."

I bit my lip, and gazed into his pained eyes. With his warm hand in my palm, I just wanted to hold it close; to kiss it. But that'd be morally wrong, I told myself. "It is...it is fine," I whispered.

"Pray, how did you learn to do that?"

"Ratohnhaké:ton nearly died when he was younger," I murmured. "He had a fish bone lodged in his throat. And so...my mother saved him. So I assumed...that I would need to..."

I said no more. I didn't need to: Haytham's other hand stroked my chin, and forced me into his indigo eyes. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek until I stopped shaking. His smile...oh, that was enough to turn my mind to fluid.

"You're remarkable," he murmured, an alluring look in his eye. "Just remarkable."

Haytham (not surprisingly) went to bed early that evening, leaving me still shaken. Not only by the events of the day, but by him. I knew that I loved Haytham all along, but only when I came that close to losing him did the feelings stab my heart. I could never afford to feel that scarred again. Neither did he.

It made me realise that it was hopeless trying to pretend. Whether I told him my feelings or not, neither of us would ever move on. I might as well tell him while I still can.

But you cannot. You simply do not have the strength.

I sat by the desk in my room, hunched over the sketch that Henry drew of me. A few days ago I'd found an ink-pot and quill in the drawer. I wrote three letters on spare parchment: one for Rose, one for Henry and one for Robert. All of them were saying thank you, but I hadn't written one for Haytham. I'd saved that until last (probably because it was too hard to write).

No. I was mad to even consider it. How was that to help matters? I couldn't possibly, I told myself over and over.

But the images of earlier came flashing back, vivid as lightning. Nothing could stop my hand reaching for the quill; dipping it into the ink-pot. The nib kissed the parchment...and I knew what I was about to do.

I was writing a love letter.

Hey guys! Me again ;) I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it...and if it seems like we're near the end of the story, WE'RE NOT! In fact, we're barely halfway through Haytham and Ziio's alternate journey. You'll see...you'll see...

It seems like a perfect time to thank you all for your continued support. Thank you, every single one of you...even if you've only read the story once or even just reviewed once. Or perhaps you've reviewed on every chapter! Either way, I appreciate your support. You're the best! :)