Chapter Thirty-Six:

Still Not the Damsel

1776

"You should be fine. Not much serious bruising," Benjamin Church said, closing his medical bag. "A bit of rest will do you wonders though. So I suggest about a day or two of it."

I inclined my head at the Templar, keeping my mouth firmly shut. He smiled pleasantly and removed himself from the quaint little room. It was obviously to be used for a servant, and so it was modestly supplied with a single bed, a dresser and a nightstand with some candles. Haytham had brought me there so as not to dirty the guest rooms if I was bleeding.

The man himself was standing at the foot of the bed I was sitting on, his hands clasped behind his back and his lips pursed like Ratonhnhaké:ton's when he was thinking or worried. His breaths were quiet but deliberate; he wanted me to know he was there.

"You are more than welcome to stay here," Haytham said, crossing the floor until he stood nearer to me. "You will be moved to more fitting accommodations until you are healed."

I didn't know what to say to the Templar Grandmaster. This was the son of Edward Kenway, and the father of Ratonhnhaké:ton. My hidden blades were still firmly situated on my wrists. With him caught unawares, it would be easy to take his life.

But...

"Or, if you wish, you can remain here. It is entirely your choice." Haytham straightened a bit, probably unused to silence. He was a man of authority and action, as told by the way he held up his nose ever-so-slighty, and the way he stared down at people unless he believed them to be worth his time. "I'll not force you."

"I..." I tried to regain my sense and my breath. The Templar Grandmaster was in front of me. He was a mortal enemy of mine, as an Assassin. But he'd saved me from the trouble of having men attempt to kill me, so it probably counted (for normal people) as saving my life. "Thank-you."

Haytham lowered the tilt of his head slightly. He smirked, satisfied with the few words I'd provided him, and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Putting the thoughts of Templars and Assassins from my mind, I very slowly reached up and laced my arm with his. He strode out of the room, leading me swiftly up the stairs of his large manor (which seemed to serve as a base of sorts for the Templars) and stopped at a room not far from the entrance of his home. It had a larger bed, both a wardrobe and a dresser, two end tables, as well as a small, circular table with two wooden chairs nearby. There was also a fireplace, and the room appeared to be well-used but taken care of, as there wasn't any dirt to be seen. It was about as large as my room back at the Homestead.

"Please make yourself comfortable," he insisted, removing his arm. "I will return with something for you to eat."

I numbly walked over to the chairs and sat down. The Templars had received all this through nearly obliterating the Brotherhood. But now, after Ratonhnhaké:ton's imprisonment at Bridewell and Washington's near-assassination at the hands of Thomas Hickey, they were fully aware of the threat that the Assassins—namely Ratonhnhaké:ton—posed to their precarious control.

Haytham returned with a tray of food for two. Cooked venison with vegetables on the side. I couldn't remember how many times I'd cooked that for Ratonhnhaké:ton after a long day's training. It was his favourite meal.

"I hope you enjoy wine," Haytham said as he placed the tray on the table, removed his hat and sat across from me. "We haven't anything else, I'm afraid."

I shook my head. "No... Thank-you."

Haytham's smirk transformed into a triumphant smile. He reached for a fork and knife, but waited patiently for me. I hesitantly took the others in hand. Two new weapons that I could use to kill him. Two new weapons that I wouldn't do it with.

We were halfway through the meal before I noticed just how much of a predicament I was in. Haytham had dark eyes like Ratonhnhaké:ton, but Ratonhnhaké:ton's seemed mixed with both his and Ziio's...

Haytham wiped a napkin across his lips to rid himself of what grease had been left by the venison, and politely waited for me to finish while sipping wine. I hadn't even realized I'd begun eating. When I finished and tentatively took a sip of the wine, Haytham chuckled.

"I assure you that it isn't poisoned," he said. "It would be a waste."

"A waste of what?" I asked.

Haytham smiled, excused himself, and stood up. His mannerisms, the way he spoke, the dark shade of his eyes... His skin colour was off, but he almost completely reminded me of Walter.

And it hurt my heart.

"I have some questions, if you wouldn't mind?" Haytham's smile didn't leave or waver as he stood close to me, facing me, his arms tucked comfortably behind him. "Why were you at the warehouse?"

I racked my brain for an explanation. None came, so I decided to be honest... a little. "I was sent there to retrieve something. A box."

"And you have an accomplice?"

I nodded. "He managed to escape with it. It's... precious to our clan."

Haytham paced. "So you were only sent there for a box?"

"Yes."

"And did you happen to see any blueprints for ships?"

"Our only focus was the box. I'm sorry."

Haytham pursed his lips and stopped pacing. I could see a familiar gold colour laced into his eyes. Eagle Vision. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't use it as often as Ezio or even Altair had used it, but I'd seen him track with it. No doubt they had all noticed how bright I was in their spectrum. Altair had been the one to note it. However, I was an Assassin, so I wasn't sure if Haytham knew or even suspected of my allegiances. Maybe he saw me as a target in that Eagle Vision of his, for it was the intentions of other people that Eagle Vision could extract.

"Who are you? What's your name?" Haytham prompted as his eyes reverted to their dark brown colour.

I hesitated, and then gulped. "Kana," I said. "My name is Kana."

Maybe I'd chosen the wrong name, because Haytham froze where he was. Then his index finger hooked onto the collar of his shirt and overcoat, and he loosened it.

"Then you know Ziio, correct?"

I mentally facepalmed. Of course Ziio would talk about me to him! I had no relevance whatsoever, but she still had!

"I think we both know, then, that I knew Ziio."

Haytham sighed. "Yes. Of course. Just as we both know that you aren't part of the Mohawk, yes?"

"And when did that become obvious?"

With a smirk, Haytham replied, "Well, when I realized how pale you were. And when I saw those blades around your wrists... Assassin." He noticed how I froze, and smiled further, but soon he became serious and picked up his hat, spinning it to offer himself a distraction. "I haven't killed you. Yet. Why, I have no idea. I simply haven't. And for that reason I believe you owe me a debt. And I fully intend to collect it at some point."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I have no doubt about that, Master Kenway."

"And as for being an Assassin..." Haytham leaned in close to me. I could smell the wine on his breath, though it wasn't at all overpowering. "When did your Order reform here in the colonies? Who is behind it? Achilles? That boy who killed Hickey, Johnson and Pitcairn? Or is it you?"

"The debt I owe you, sir, is one of action, not of words or information." I crossed my arms. Haytham straightened, looking down at me from his nose. I stood in response. He was taller than me, as was his son (and as had been his own father), but where Ratonhnhaké:ton had no authority to back up his height, Haytham did. Still, I refused to back down. "If the opportunity arises where I can pay my debt with honour, and we become even once more, the only reason I will hesitate my blade is because of my friend's son."

Haytham straightened further, but his shoulders slumped ever-so-slighty. "Ziio's?"

"And yours."

"Connor."

I shook my head. "Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"I may as well just call him 'son' and be done with it..."

"Wouldn't that be repetitive?"

Haytham glared at me. "What would you have me call him then?!"

Smirking, I replied, "Whatever a true father would call their child."

"Connor?" I nodded, which made Haytham bristle in anger. "Then why mislead me with that other name of his, 'Ra-doony-ga-don'?!"

"Ra-doon-ha-gay-doon," I said slowly for the Templar Grand Master. "Because it's his real name. He adopted 'Connor' so people like you wouldn't have to hurt yourself while you tripped repeatedly over his name and butchered it until it was unrecognizable."

Haytham frowned, but otherwise turned his head to the side so he wasn't looking at me. Then he glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

"Until such a time as I have need of you, you are hereby confined to this room." Haytham turned to look me dead in the eye. "You are now a Templar prisoner."

I heard a thump against the manor that Haytham didn't. My mind immediately went to Ratonhnhaké:ton, and I smirked. "I'm sorry, but I'm needed elsewhere, and can't stay. Thank-you for the medical treatment and the food, though. Venison and vegetables are Ratonhnhaké:ton's favourite."

Haytham reached an arm out to grab my shoulder. I ducked underneath it, spun and sprinted for the window. It shattered before I reached it, showering me with glass. I defended my face by throwing my arms in front of myself and then leaped outside into an awaiting wagon full of hay just as an explosion rocked the room. The wagon made off quickly as Haytham landed on the ground, grunting in pain, and the horse pulling the wagon began to gallop.

I poked my head from the haystack and faced the person driving. She was wearing a white dress uniform with gold and red trim, and the white hood over her head was beaked. Her skin was pale as well.

"I'm glad you caught my signal!" the woman yelled back at me as horses passed us, their riders hurrying towards the manor. "I was afraid that you'd be gone with that room!"

"Excellent diversion, by the way!" I exclaimed. "Next time though, try to have a more subtle signal! Haytham nearly caught on!"

"Haytham?! As in Kenway?!"

I nodded, and then clambered to sit beside her on the bench. "Yes. He has excellent taste in wine, by the way!"

2012

I didn't remember exactly when I'd made my way down to Walter's body, or when the alarmed scientists and guards within Abstergo truly began their pursuit of Desmond, nor the moment when Desmond grabbed my arm and yanked me through Abstergo, towards the entrance—towards escape.

Without Walter.

The image of his body was forever engraved into my mind, as if a welder had burned it there. An arm and both of his legs were broken, as if he'd tried to stop the fall. His back was bleeding, three small holes letting his blood escape his body, and his neck was set at an odd angle. His eyes held no life in them. No memories, no happiness, nothing.

It was as if I had blinked, because next I knew we were standing in front of the Grand Temple. Hadn't we been in Italy a few seconds ago? Hadn't we been escaping Daniel Cross?

Why did you have to fight him? Why did you have to die... again?

I could still feel the warmth that had been generated by our hands when he'd grabbed mine. It was as if his fingers were still there, locked firmly in place, never letting my hand go. But I clenched and unclenched my hand, expecting my fingers to touch his, and his hand was nowhere to be found.

As I stared at the entrance, my mind completely and utterly clouded with thoughts of how Walter and I had strolled around together and took in the sights, I felt a jacket fall around my shoulders. I clenched the fabric in my hands, expecting Walter's scent, but it was Desmond's.

I fought back the feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface with every bit of strength I had. Desmond was reminding me (unintentionally) of what had happened with Ratonhnhaké:ton after Walter had died... before. This seemed to be a pattern that I couldn't escape. I realized that anything I did could never break me free of it.

Rebecca hugged me tightly, saying nothing but speaking what everyone wanted to say. When she released me, I stared at the forest floor, suddenly glad that my hood hid my face from view.

"I—." I choked on my words, then tried again. "I... I'd like to be... alone."

Even Bill didn't say a word as they all walked silently into the Grand Temple. I watched them go, slipping into the darkness of the cave.

And then I was truly and utterly alone.

And I couldn't hold anything back any longer.