Notes: Double update! Oh boy, there's a lot going on in this chapter. Poor Haytham. And Shay. :c I wonder how they'll survive this one...

Warning for some violence and gore! IDK, it's AC so that's like a given, but whatever.

Chapter 25: Another Dead End

Most of the journey to the Brown family's farm was spent in a less than companionable silence. Liam was anything but thrilled to be working with Haytham. Haytham kept a hand on his sword hilt just in case Liam decided the world needed one less high-ranking Templar – their temporary truce be damned. He wasn't being paranoid, he reasoned, in Liam's position he would definitely be considering it. Such perfect opportunities to be rid of an enemy rarely present themselves, of course. Haytham glanced over at the Assassin riding alongside him on a white mare. His jaw was clenched and he held the reigns just a little too tightly. Obviously, he was poised to counter. He was no less suspicious of Haytham as he was of him.

"Who is it that you and Shay suspected might be involved in this?" Haytham asked, deciding he was tired of silence.

"His name's Laurent," Liam answered stiffly. "He was one of the Maroons, but after the collapse o' the precursor temple in Haiti, he went his own way. What happened there... Suffice t'say Laurent's about as mentally stable as a powder keg inches from a bonfire. He was always a bit o' a loose cannon, but after Haiti he... Well, Shay's made some mistakes, but at least he didn't kill ten of the Assassins' men on his way out."

"Not to point out the obvious, but he did eventually kill most of them anyway." Haytham replied.

"Aye, but... We didn't give him many options. Either we killed him, or he killed us. I thought he had a choice, but seein' things now... Well, I know that he didn't. We backed him into a corner – especially Hope. I warned her but..." Liam shook his head and swore under his breath. "Anyway, Laurent did have a choice. But honestly, I don't think he knows any better. He's been through the same thing Shay survived in Lisbon, but I guess Shay's made o' sterner stuff because Laurent's lost his marbles." Liam explained, watching the road ahead of them – if one could call the overgrown cobblestone path a proper road.

"But he's still an Assassin?" Haytham asked, curiously.

Liam didn't answer right away, and he had a sort of far off look in his eyes when he did. "No, not really. In his head he is, but in reality he's a psychopath. In fact, Achilles had ordered me t'deal with him once we returned from the arctic. Though, after what happened there I've been questionin' my own loyalties. I don't think Laurent deserves to be slaughtered like a pig. He needs help. He was a good man once, but when he needed them the most, the others turned their backs on him. ...And just like with Shay, they refused to believe him when he warned them to hide the manuscript away, and stay the fuckin' hell away from the pieces o' Eden. Either way, I hope t'God Shay doesn't go after him without us. Laurent is dangerous, and more'n a match for him."

"He will go anyway. He had probably already found an excuse to part ways with the others by now." Haytham replied with an aggravated tone.

"Aye, probably. I guess you know him at least half as well I do by now, then." Liam conceded, smiling ever so slightly. "That idiot. He never does learn. He's goin' to get himself killed one of these days, and I won't be able to save his idiot arse. I just... Nevermind."

"You still care for him," Haytham realized. Liam gave him a sort of pained stare and gripped his mare's reigns tighter.

"I'll always care for him, but he en't mine to care for anymore. It's too little too late, and it's best we never even see each other again after this. I still can't believe he found me in the fist place." He said eventually, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "Just promise me somethin', Haytham. You look after that idiot, and don't you ever hurt him or so help me God I will kill you."

"Oh? You wouldn't do that anyway? Are the Templars no longer your enemies?" Haytham inquired, slowing his stallion to a trot as the road widened into an open meadow.

"I en't an Assassin anymore. I'm not fightin' for anythin' except to survive. They call me their mentor, but I really just live there. I don't have any desire to kill any more for a war that will never end, and a cause that I don't believe in. I believed it once, when I was naïve enough to honestly think that it was freedom and peace that the Assassin's fought for. We're almost there by the way, shouldn't be more'n an hour." Liam said glumly, looking up at the overcast sky.

Haytham followed him, deciding to keep his opinions to himself. All he could think of was a passing comment that Shay had made about Liam, and how he thought that he would have been able to see things from the Templar's point of view, given the chance. He was right, Haytham admitted to himself. Still, he wanted nothing to do with either side and Haytham could hardly fault him for that. Why was he here, then? That was obvious enough, at least. Shay. He probably begged him for assistance, out of some vain hope that Liam would join them, or at least reconcile their past. ...Neither was likely to happen, naturally.

"Tell me more about Laurent." Haytham demanded, hoping to change the subject.

"There's not much else to tell," Liam told him. "Most of his work was freein' slaves around New Orleans and some odd jobs for Mackandal in Haiti. The man is an expert at stealth, but not much in a fight if you actually corner him. He's big and tough, but he relies too much on strength. Still, he's damn fast and about as predictable as an angry bear. The problem, is that he always has a back-up plan."

"I'm sure Shay will be fine, he's survived going after the others, after all." Haytham commented.

"Aye, but Hope nearly got him." Liam replied jokingly. It was true, of course. Shay had survived her poisoning – barely. He'd spent a week in bed hallucinating about giant worms crawling out of the walls afterward. Benjamin had needed to sedate him to keep him from hurting himself. They continued on in silence for another hour, stopping only once so Liam could check his bearings. They weren't far from Boston, but it was still untamed land that was relatively easy to get lost in. Around noon, the road finally widened and led to the front yard of the the large farmhouse – or what was left it.

"Shite. That can't be good." Liam commented, hopping down from his mare and tying her to a nearby post. Haytham followed suit, and bit back a slew of uncouth swearing. The place had been burnt to the ground, the main house and the two barns for housing livestock. Only the stables were left standing, and a myriad of animals roamed the grounds in search of food.

"We'd best look for survivors. I'll take the house, see if there's anything in the barn or stables." Haytham commanded, hoping his tone covered the sense of dread welling in his chest. It had been a while since something had truly rattled him. In the years following the siege of Bergen Op Zoom, Haytham had mostly learned to repress any reaction to things that triggered memories of the horrors, but this was different. When he looked at the blackened husk of the house, still smoldering in places, he thought of that fateful night in Queen Anne's square. The first time he killed, the look of utter horror on his mother's face... The stench of smoke clawed at his lungs and Haytham coughed, trying to chase the images of his father's last moments from his mind. Uselessly, he steeled himself for what he knew would be a similar scene – if any of them had survived.

Gingerly, Haytham stepped over the wall of what had once been a sitting room of sorts. Nothing stuck out to him as he sifted through the debris, careful not to let his cape brush against of the still-glowing timber. The fire had been utterly merciless. Nearly nothing remained aside from the metal skeletons of some of the furniture and a scattering of various objects. A glimmer caught his eyes as he moved, revealing a thin, partially melted silver chain resting in the ash. Gently, Haytham picked it up. As he did, it snagged on what was once the neck bones of the poor sod that had been wearing it. The chain bore only a simple cross, and Haytham was relatively sure the room he was in was the kitchen. A maid or slave, perhaps?

"Haytham, I've found something." Liam said miserably.

"So have I. Do you recognize this?" He asked and stepped out of the wreckage to hand him the cross.

"...Aye. That belonged to Tilly. She was their housekeeper, and always good for a trollop. But ah, she wouldn't o' known anythin' anyway." Liam said. "Anyway... The stables."

Dread welling up inside of him, Haytham followed Liam to the stables. The horses had since broken free, spooked by the fire or possibly stolen by the attackers. The stench of decay hit Haytham like a ton of bricks and he clapped his hand over his mouth and retched. Perhaps it wasn't a very characteristic reaction, but he felt a bit nauseous anyway what with his past trying to drown him. Liam gave him an odd glance and wordlessly pointed toward the last stall. Haytham willed himself to stay calm and went to look. There were three bodies there – an elderly man, and two women around Haytham's own age. The man's throat was cut, and both the girls had their heads smashed in.

"Molly's the redhead. Shay fancied her years ago, used t'honestly believe they could run off and get married. The blonde is Anne, her younger sister. And that... That's mister Brown." Liam said, rattling off their names like they meant nothing, but Haytham saw the faint break in his composure. These were people he and Shay had known. Maybe they had wound upon their bad side, but there were obviously fond memories there as well. "Now what?"

Haytham's eyes landed on a rusty iron shovel propped up against the wall. "We bury them, and get back to Boston before Shay does something stupid." Haytham said, fighting down a surge of mindless anger. He wasn't sure what kind of soulless animal it took to have the gall to murder a pair of helpless young women. It didn't even look like they put up a fight before being thrown in there like the day's refuse.

"You want to... Bury them?" Liam asked incredulously as Haytham turned his back on him and grabbed the shovel's age-worn wooden handle.

"It is better than leaving them to rot. At least when Birch murdered my father along with half the house's staff, and burnt the family home to the ground, they had funerals. No one will notice they've passed all the way out here. It will be months, probably." Haytham replied and glanced over his shoulder at Liam who a had a somewhat dumbstruck expression on his face. "...What?"

"It's funny. You know, you en't half the ruthless bastard Achilles would've had us believe." Liam replied with a shrug.

"Oh, no. He was right. I am definitely a ruthless bastard merely not a completely heartless one." Haytham retorted. "Are you going to bloody help me or not?"

"Just give me a minute, Christ." Liam grumbled and hefted a pickaxe that had been in the corner over his shoulder.

It took them a good three hours to dig the graves on the side of stables, and to mark them with crudely made wooden crosses. It was hardly glamorous, but better than being left to fester in a run-down stable. They made their way back to Boston in relative silence, aside from the occasional passing comment. Something had shifted between them, however. Liam no longer sat straight in his saddle, nonchalantly waiting to loose the release for his hidden blade and sink it into Haytham's throat. He didn't look at Haytham, just the road ahead. Haytham hardly paid him any mind either, as he fought with his own inner demons – once again blaming only himself for Jenny's misery and his mother's estrangement. If only he'd caught onto Birch's scheming sooner maybe he could have -

The sound of a gunshot ringing through the still night air as they approached the gates leading into Boston startled both of them. Liam nearly fell off his horse as he scrambled to pull his pistol from its holster. Haytham already had his sword drawn, and through shear dumb luck managed to clip a large black man in an Assassin's robe in the shoulder just as he tried to run past them. He countered faster than Haytham was able to compensate for, and he found himself thrown from his horse face down in the dirt. The man cried out in pain as Liam bodily tackled him and wrenched a rifle from his grip. Angrily, Haytham wiped blood from his face, and kicked him hard in the side as Liam knocked him out cold with the butt of the rifle that he'd been carrying.

"...Laurent?" Haytham asked Liam, nudging the unconscious man with his foot. He woke instantly, grabbed Haytham by the ankle, and threw him to the ground. He would have ran a hidden blade through his skull, if it weren't for the bayonet protruding from his chest. Laurent coughed, and sagged, staggering away from Haytham and Liam, who was still holding the rifle that was dripping with blood. Laurent let out a wheezing laugh, and pulled out a pistol before either of them could react. Haytham dodged, but not fast enough. He grunted and nearly lost his footing as the bullet took him in the side – in the same exact place that Lucio had stabbed him.

"Bastard." He gasped, pressing his hand tightly to the wound to slow the bleeding as Liam snapped Laurent's neck with his bare hands and a slew of some incredibly creative crussing.

"Keep your shite together. Shay could be wounded, or dead. We have to find him! You head to the docks, it looked like he was comin' from there. I'll – Haytham!"

"Fine. I'm fine. Just find him! Go!" Haytham growled, grinding his teeth against the pain. He shook his head and stumbled in the direction Liam had pointed. A passing patrol had heard the gunshot and come running, but the three redcoats hadn't seen anyone meeting Shay's description. The blood loss was making Haytham's head spin when he finally reached the docks. He couldn't see anything to indicate Shay's presence, and wandered to where the Morrigan was docked. Mills was there, and had a fit over the state of him, but hadn't seen Shay since the previous afternoon. Just as he was about to give up, he heard the sound of Liam's voice calling to him.

"Find that arsehole, Church! And do it fast!" Liam barked, walking in their direction. Haytham's eyes went wide and the sense of absolute panic that overtook him rendered him utterly senseless. Liam had Shay's unconscious body draped in his arms, and there was no way a man drenched that heavily in his own blood could still be breathing. It was Mills who barked orders at a few of the Morrigan's crew that were hanging around to find Benjamin. Martin helped Liam get Shay to his cabin, and Haytham was only vacantly aware of Mills steering him the direction of the galley. He'd said something about letting the ship's doctor tend his wounds, but Haytham didn't really hear a word of it.

...What if he lost him? What if Church couldn't save him? How could he ever sleep again? ...What would he tell Connor?

Trollop – rough, hard sex.

Loose Cannon – still used today kind of, but basically someone's who's not really mentally stable.