Me again!

Hehe I hope you...um enjoyed the last chapter and its contents ;)

I'm (thinking of) doing a Christmas chapter of Everbound because, well, why not? IT'S DECEMBER AT LAST! And only 10 days until I break up for Christmas. We're now in the final third of the story I'd say, but I don't know for sure.

I know what you're thinking: this story goes on for EVER. I'm sorry – I wish I could've combined chapters, looking back. Maybe I'll do that at some point. Anyway I'm waffling! Here's another chapter...


HAYTHAM

Bloody hell.

That was what came to mind the next morning, with a headache which could've woken the dead.

I blinked my eyes open – grimacing – and found the light far too intense. Next came the sensation of a head-filled-with-lead. The bedsheets fell to the floor as I moved, groaning. This was easily the worst morning-after migraine I'd ever had.

How much did I drink last night? Five tankards? Six? Seven? Seven and a half?

It made my conscience throb just thinking about it. Not nearly as much as the rest of me...how was I meant to get up in such an indignified state?

Ziio would never mind, I thought to myself, sitting upright.

Where was she, anyhow? The single cot next to the door was empty, the bedsheets neatly made. That was most likely a habit Ziio had picked up living with Eva. How had she risen, after all she drank? Granted it was nothing on myself, but she could have spent another hour asleep.

Reflecting on what we had done, I was unsure whether to feel guilty or euphoric. It had been twenty-one years since I'd made love to a woman – and even that was what conceived Connor. How I'd restrained my immorality for so long, only heaven knows. I could think of no better way to release it.

Feeling morally filthy but physically cleansed, I decided to look for Ziio. I'd need to make myself presentable first, though.

It took me forever to find my clothes. What had she done with my hat, after all? I only remembered chasing her down the corridor, then it disappeared from my focus. Ah. My hat: tucked in the most obscure corner of the cabin. I could have placed money that Ziio hid it on purpose. Was that her way of bidding me good morrow? What a minx.


"Good morning, Father."

I had to rub my eyes twice before I actually spotted Aaron. And when I did, I could've doubled backwards. Did he call me 'Father'?

Of course he did. Have you forgotten that, too?

"Morning, Aaron. Did you sleep well?"

"Late, but well," he beamed brightly. "You?"

I was spared from answering this – thank God – by George coming out into the corridor. He was dressed (smartly so); no outsider would have suspected the rum still in his head. "Ah, Haytham! There you are. Ziio told us all that you'd never stir."

Oh no. If Ziio had been talking about me already, I feared what she might've said. Or did she have the decency to keep our little secret? Still, George seemed unconditional at the sight of me; I relaxed slightly.

"I'm not sure why she would think such. Where is she, anyway?"

"Kitchens." George indicated with his thumb. "I'm headed there now, as it happens. Care to walk with me?"

My mind still addled by alcohol, I struggled with quick-fire questions. "Um...yes. Of course."

George grinned at Aaron, who nodded his head and trotted on by. Only when I craned my neck, I saw that he'd attached Ziio's bracelet to his right wrist. Bless. I still couldn't believe the alarming response I had when Connor gave the twins the bracelets. How could two tiny slips of string solidify an affinity? It seemed absurd.

Once Aaron had disappeared, I realised something else: the ship was moving. I supposed I had failed to notice on waking.

"Wait. If the ship is moving, and you're down here..."

"Connor," George answered simply. "He drank barely a drop last night. Volunteered to take the helm for a while, bless his soul. I trust his sailing hand for an hour or so."

That was brave of Stirling: even I did not trust Connor's sailing. It had taken us two months to get from A to B, while the Belle Rose – a slower brig – took half this time. Granted the Aquila was larger and had to take more side routes to avoid the rocks, but honestly? How was my son the Aquila's captain?

"You know, between us, I truly admire what you did last night," said George.

"Wh-which part of last night?" I shot back, a little too alarmed.

"Letting Alexa and Aaron call you their parent!" He nudged me, as if it were completely obvious. "You've no clue how long they have waited to use those words."

Perhaps 'parent' was a word too graphic. How could I be? Less than two weeks ago, I was unaware of their existence.

Oh, to hell with being surprised. I've had enough of those to last me this life and the next!

"I-I think I have an inkling..." I felt my face colour like coral. "There is one thing I fail to understand. I know that Soyala has explained this already, but...why not you? You have provided for them since birth. You've done everything a child needs his father for. So why not you?"

A ripple of warmth crossed his cool eyes, like the Northern Lights. "I do love those two children, I really do," George chuckled. "I'd like to think the feeling is mutual, for both myself and Eva. We consider them our own...but in a very different way. But I am not the figure who fills the label of 'Father'. You see, since birth, Ziio has told them to reserve that seat. Perhaps that man might be late for the meeting. Even if he isn't quite what they expect, he is prepared to support them in a loving bond with their mother."

Wow.

It was too early for philosophy of any sort, but George took the biscuit. Realising my mouth was gaping open, I closed it quickly.

"Does it sadden you? That they are not yours."

"No. I am not a father, but I'm not childless either. Does that make sense?"

"Not really," I mistakingly said aloud.

Luckily I received no response but a smile. "I never do. Come, the kitchens."


And that wasn't the only smile I received.

On entering the kitchens, an aroma of steam enriched my sluggish senses. There were three people present before us: Ziio (dressed, and washing up), Jack and Toby (perched on crates). Ziio didn't even turn around. Jack greeted George with a low grunt...but Toby? God, I could've sliced that smirk right off his face. One eyebrow raised, pearly teeth gloating at me, head at an angle...I knew what was coming.

"Rough night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied through gritted teeth. I looked to Ziio for support, only to find her back still turned. Out of embarrassment? I couldn't blame her.

"Right." Toby rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Your hat's at an angle."

"I know. Your shirt is askew."

"I know."

Seething at his immaturity, I marched over to the pot and served myself a portion of porridge. When I returned to the crowd, was it any surprise that Ziio had left the room? George soon made his way to the pot; his eyes stayed fixated – confused – on me. He knew that Collins was winding me up about one thing or another. Jack was either too hungover or too disinterested to care about the tension.

Hm, Wilding was an unusual drunk. A little how I'd envisioned my father in his pirating days, only more mature when sober. Toby and maturity – much like myself and Connor to begin with – were not compatible.

The moment I sat down, the cheeky bastard winked at me. "Remember what you said?"

"When?"

"That if you and Ziio had done anything of the sort, I would know about it?"

Oh, for the love of Christ. "Nobody forced you to listen."

At this, the man's laugh was low but hysterical. "Oh, but you did. I heard everything, Haytham! Well done."

Now I really was at the end of my tether. "I don't need your congratulation. In fact, I didn't need any public acknowledgement from you at all."

"Haytham," Jack sighed boredly, "if Toby is annoying you this much, go and eat on deck. I think the others are up there already."

I stood and left immediately, muttering expletives under my breath.


Granted, it took me a considerable length of time to adjust to Toby's humour. Similar to how I had with Connor, Toby and I began to tolerate one another. By tolerate I mean fire the odd humorous line, but Collins was still the one whom I connected to the least.

I connected to them all, in some way. That was most likely why I never spent a moment alone. My schedule consisted of waking up with Ziio, going to breakfast with Ziio, sailing for a short time talking to George, spending time with Connor or the twins...then came a miscellaneous. It was almost as if every Assassin was determined to talk to me. The involvement was healthy (or so I told myself). I'd been isolated from affinity for so long, like a lonely icicle in a cold cavern. The Virginian Brotherhood were the ones coaxing the warmth into the mouth of the cave.

The most interesting character of all was Jack. The times we interacted were few and far between, but even in these periods, I discovered little about him. He wanted to talk only of my past; of my opinions. It made me comfortable...in an odd, selfish way. Individually he was a very private and reserved man – but when addressing the Order, his authority was lectern-like: with wings that inspired the Brotherhood to fly. His life (if he had any at all) revolved around these men and women.

François, too, seemed determined to befriend me. A little too determined...so I initially thought. Once I learned to live with his flamboyant nature, he was the most common "miscellaneous". He spoke constantly of Rose and their three children; François vowed to introduce me to them.

"Although, seeing your devotion to Ziio, I believe our families will frequently crossing one another's paths," he added jovially.

Families. That was the word that – despite all this joy – stole my heart and tossed it overboard. What was François implying? All the suggestions of the future were what gnawed at me throughout the voyage after that. I'd left my life in America in absolute anarchy. True, now I had everything I desired: Ziio, a loving son, seemingly another son and daughter and unusually close-knit friendships. But that was just the issue.

No love would blunt the weapons of my enemies; my estranged brothers in the Templar Order. My affection for these people was betrayal. How could I even begin to untangle this chaos? I was Grand Master, not an insubstantial soldier. What of Charles? Of the lesser accomplices who knew my name – little else – and committed atrocious acts in that name? How could I leave the Templar Order, in a way that it wouldn't collapse?

"Why would you want it to remain stable?" Eva asked, as we gazed at the water pensively one eve.

"Because leaving them cold will create more enemies than conversion is worth."

Eva shrugged in mild agreement, placing her elbows on the ship's stern. George worked silently at the Belle Rose's helm; the only sound was the whisper of the waves. Squinting into the sunset, Eva asked: "How would you do it? How would you go about betrayal...diplomatically?"

"Is there such a thing? A diplomatic betrayal?"

"This is just my point."

All problems, no solutions. I tended not to dwell in the present, but with no past and no visible future, I'd had no choice on this voyage.

"I am conflicted as to whether I should inform Charles. Not explicitly," I added, seeing Eva look up in concern. "Only imply that I am no longer a Templar. I could...write to him; appoint him the role of managing the Order's funding schemes. I could even announce retirement."

"Would Lee believe that? Considering your argument with him upon leaving?"

"Wait...how do you know about that?" I frowned. Eva glanced at me; I answered my own question: "Ziio."

"No – Connor, actually."

She had spent almost as much time with my son as I had. Of course he passed much of his time with Ziio, Aaron, Alexa and myself. But Connor and Eva seemed to be on the same wavelength – like two unyielding ships, sailing for the same goal. In ways I was envious: had it not been for the connection of Ziio, it could have taken me years to get along with my own child. It took Eva three weeks. The same went for all of the Assassins, in reality.

That was another point. "And you?" I asked. "Where will you and Jack go from here?"

"What will the Assassins focus on when we return, you mean?" The skin around her eyes stiffened. "I'm not entirely sure. As you know, we'll be docking at Achilles' homestead when we reach America...so we shall have to question him. Maybe collaboration is a possibility...but I'd have to ask. Our main focus will be assassinating Flood –"

"No, I meant what you will do," I interrupted. "You and George, and Soyala. All those who live with you."

"What will we do?"

George had been so silent behind us, I'd almost forgotten his presence. He did not turn around (he couldn't, else we'd be on the rocks), but I could sense an uncertainty fill him like the salty air.

"I don't know," Eva sighed. "I honestly don't know."


Only a few days later, Alexa asked me the exact same question.

It was interesting hearing it from a child. Not who do you plan to kill next? Or how will you go about betrayal and hypocrisy? Just a sweet, simple: "What will you do now?"

I sighed, placing my next chess piece on the board. This was perhaps the fifteenth game we'd had: it was Alexa's only true form of entertainment. Aaron and Ziio were on deck with Connor. I'd had plenty of alone time with each of them – but Ziio's daughter? I could be honest with her, on an unusual level considering her age.

"What will I do? Return home, I suppose. Sit idle until the Assassins need me. The problem is, nothing is the same now. Obviously I'll be seeing much more of Connor..." I trailed off: talking about family bonding was a risky subject. Alexa wouldn't be offended – but I wanted to prevent her from assuming anything. "You? Your mother has hardly mentioned it."

Alexa had been repeatedly nodding; her French braid now obscured her face. As she reached to move it, I noticed that her sleek black hair was tied with the bracelet I'd given her. It filled me with even more comfort as she looked me in the eye. "I don't know. Aaron and I don't know that much. But one thing I can be certain of is that it isn't safe at home. Eva and George may not let us back to Philadelphia until..."

"She's seen to the danger?" I watched her fingers hover over a white knight. "Of course. But where will you stay?"

"With Prudence, I think." Alexa pulled a face sour as citrus. "That'll be...exciting."

"Sarcasm at your age?"

"What is sarcasm?"

"A form of irony used by those who have no humour," I chuckled, thinking of Ziio – then again, when didn't I think of her?

"You think I have no humour?"

"No! I – not at all..." Afraid that I'd taken it too far, I returned to the subject in hand. "Why, did you not enjoy staying with Prudence?"

"Oh – it wasn't terrible," Alexa shrugged. "We were...bored. In Philadelphia we could at least attend school, go to the market, play outside... but it was different at Prudence's. We weren't allowed into her orchard. She was very strict. Still is."

I laughed softly to myself. "Prohibition on the outdoors. Hm, I'm sure your brother loathed that rule."

"Oh, don't start!" Alexa huffed dramatically. "Aaron didn't know himself. I have never seen him so restless. Then again, so was I. Neither of us wanted to leave home...we had no idea of how long we would be away. We thought we'd never return."

"You thought you were moving to Virginia?"

"Well, Eva's plans can be strange at times," the young girl sighed. Her eyes fell to the white queen on the floorboards, defeated two moves ago. "So yes. I thought that we would move."

"Your mother said the same – about Eva, I mean. She is conflicted as to what will happen now."

"I thought Mother wanted to stay with you."

I swallowed the truth. I wanted Ziio to stay with me: after sixteen years of separation, I wanted my house to feel whole again. But I knew – deep down – she would not. Ziio had built herself a new household. One with many parts, but a stable one nonetheless. She was (largely) safe with Eva, Soyala, George and her children. Would she continue to live with them, or would she want to live at Connor and Achilles' homestead?

"Oh, and it's your turn to move," Alexa added, noticing my sudden distance.

"Oh – sorry. I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About what you said...that Ziio wanted to stay with me – and I'm certain that is true, but she has family in four different places now. She has her tribe. Connor. You and Aaron...and me. Well, who do you think is lowest on her list of inherited priorities?"

Alexa knew the answer – poor child, she wouldn't dare voice it. Instead she went into an unusual state. Her eyes went straight through the chess board, like it was made of glass. Not a glare, nor a distant spell. Her brows sloped low and her jaw clenched tightly.

"How many live in your house?" she asked.

"Only me. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe..." Alexa's voice began low like her mother's, then rose with her head and enthusiasm. "Maybe there is a way that Mother can have all of them."

"What do you mean?"

"A way in which she could be close to them all. Close to her tribe, Ratohnhaké:ton and the Assassins."

I frowned, still not understanding her hint. It was only five seconds later – when she looked up at me expectantly – that it clicked into place. "Alexa, are you suggesting...?"

"Suggesting what?" she smiled innocently.

"That...the three of you come and live with me?"

"I never said that," Alexa half-giggled. Her fingers swiped a pawn on the chessboard; it was swiftly replaced with a rook. "Check."

I was amazed that she would even suggest it. Alexa and Aaron had lived in the same house throughout their lives. Would they really want to...? No. None of it was feasible, I realised, as reality seeped in. How would I cater for two children? It didn't matter how I adored the twins. Where would they attend school? What about Eva, George and Soyala? And Alexa would need to attend a church of some sort. It just could not be done.

Yet on the other hand...

I was hardly unable to support them financially. My house had two guest bedrooms, and both were seldom used. Unable to stop myself, I envisioned – what I thought to be – the perfect family life. Me, Ziio, Alexa and Aaron all in one household. Connor visiting us regularly – every Sunday perhaps – with Achilles and other Assassin contacts nearby. True, we were far away from the Stirlings and all other Assassins...but I'd have everything I ever quested for. Wherever my affiliations led me in life, I would always have an underlying purpose, like the heart beating in my chest. My family.

My vision melted to gold dust around me; Alexa's face broke into a grin. "You are thinking again?"

"Alexa." I cleared my throat, my heart suddenly pulsing. "How would it be, if – once all this is behind us – you and Aaron did come to live with me? With your mother, of course..."

The light in her eyes sunk like stones, like they always did when she was thinking. Afraid that my request was juvenile, I added: "I know we would be far away from Philadelphia. But we could visit regularly. As regularly as you would like. And I would find you both a decent schooling, and a church, and –"

"Father...a-are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I nodded. "You are my...my daughter now, after all."

"Does Mother know?" her voice was a whisper, barely believing that this could become real.

"Not yet. Though I'm certain she would agree with me. All that matters now is that you and Aaron..."

Alexa gasped, unable to hide the glee in her glowing cheeks. I exhaled – smiling fondly – and waited for the response I wanted to hear. "I...I –"

But I did not receive her reply. Suddenly the chessboard rattled against the floorboards; footsteps sprung closer and closer to the cabin.

"Alexa! Father, come quickly!" It was Aaron.

I exchanged a humorously exasperated glance with Alexa as he burst in. The door almost hit the wall; I turned to face our guest.

"Come on deck! You need to see this!" he panted gleefully. "Hurry! Oh, for goodness' sake, Alexa – finish the game later. This is far more important!"

"What's more important?" I asked.

Aaron beamed down at me like the sun. "Hamish says he can see land. We're nearly home – we're nearly in America!"

Amused by his excitement, I followed him onto the Belle Rose's deck with Alexa. The sun was setting on a crisp October air, and the crow's nest was illumined with a halo-like light. Hamish stood solitarily in its cage. Even though he was silent, there was a jubilation in his eye which certainly wasn't sunlight. The rest of the Assassins flocked to the starboard side of the ship. Immediately I sought Ziio: gripping the side of the ship, enthralled, the ends of her hair wafting in the soft wind. Yet somehow she did not see me: behind Soyala, I saw that Ziio was looking out into the water ahead of her.

Why? Surely the land is ahead of the ship, not at starboard?

Only when Connor spotted me from afar did I see it. He beckoned me and the children to join him by the ship's bow. When we were stood beside him, Connor handed me a spyglass. "Look. The Aquila caught up with us."

Surely enough, the Aquila bobbed slightly behind on the water some three hundred yards away. Quickly I scanned for Faulkner – found him holding a spyglass. Another crew member was at the helm. Probably a virtue, looking at Faulkner's slumped and tired posture. But I harboured no empathy. Even from that distance I caught him scowling on seeing me.

"What a bastard," I said aloud.

Connor glared coldly, like he would when wearing a hood. I glowered back – wondering what I'd done – before realising I'd sworn in the presence of youth. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Aaron shrugged.

"But what does it mean?" Alexa asked eventually. "So we can see the other ship now. Why is it important?"

"Because, you simpleton, it means that we're almost home. Then we can finally get off this boat."

"Ship!" Connor and I corrected simultaneously.

"And I am not a simpleton." Alexa folded her arms crossly (which to us only looked comical). "What? Why are you all laughing?"

She needed no answer: a sweeping glance at our faces and a grin flickered in hers. She tried to oppress it, but found it was impossible. Alexa's laughter was sweet: childlike, but with a hidden emotion which I'd learned to detect in Connor. That emotion was satisfaction.

And we were all clearly satisfied. There was Connor, who barely even smiled at a joke. Alexa and Aaron whose fatuous banter was never mutually appreciated. Me? Well, whatever changes that had come with the voyage, they showed through on this particular evening. The four of us stood as a unit: a fragmented family who stitched the loose ends by the second.

Ahead of us, America had never been so bewitching. What did fate hold there for us, as Ziio would ask? Would it be lush lands of peace and solitude? A terrain teeming with danger...but matters to be explored? I would have to see for myself...and for the first time since I fell in love, I had a guiding light. A constant, worthy motive of these shared hearts.

If this bliss was where fate had led me, I'd worship it until my downfall.


P.S. Thank you for nearly 46,000 hits! This is incredible. I love you all. Every single freaking one of you, even if you read one chapter of this story and got bored! Mwah :*