In a tense silence, William was wandering around the Grand Temple at a nervous pace. Rage was still burning inside his disgruntled soul, and he needed time to compose his thoughts in solitude and finally cool down after a quarrel he'd had with his son just a few minutes ago.

He took a deep breath and stopped at last, then leaned against the wall and sat on a cold stone floor, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. They had two months left. Only two months and a lot of work to do with responsibility for billions of people's lives on their shoulders. And that's when Desmond suddenly declared he was sick of everything and so didn't want to sit in the Animus anymore. Huh, as if they had any choice. It was a hard time for them all, and every one of them was trying to do their best to save the world. They had no right to waste time they didn't have. Did his son want the sun to turn everything to ash on the planet? Then why did he have to listen to his complaints? Was it really so hard to bear? But they could have had so much time if he hadn't wasted it in some shitty bar! He'd been goofing around for nine years, and now he had to make them up by any means. When he saved the world, nobody would make him sit in that thing anymore.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to calm himself down, he couldn't forget his son's last words – the words that were still making his hand clench into a fist over and over again. Well, he shouldn't have reacted so furiously to them, but... how could Desmond equate him to those bastards he'd been fighting for his whole life? His father demanded too much from him, that was what he'd meant, right? But how much of his energy and his time had been put into his son's training, how many years he had been out of his mind with worry while he was looking for him! And then, when Desmond was in a coma, he'd always been by his side, even slept next to the Animus and prayed he would survive... Everything he had done was just for his son, and what did he get in return? Desmond was still that insolent, ungrateful, stubborn, egoistic–

He didn't finish the last sentence in his mind as he sensed someone's presence nearby, sudden and inexplicable, existent and... unreal at the same time, which made him feel ill at ease instantly. But when he heard a voice – wafting from the distance, it seemed to be weirdly familiar, calm and even, though with a note of hesitation – his hair stood on end, and he just froze, unable to do anything.

"Good afternoon…"

Slowly, William raised his head and felt his bright-blue eyes widen in shock. There was a man standing in front of him, pale as Death itself and dressed in a blue eighteenth-century suit with a tricorn hat on his head; the other part of the Temple was visible through his dim silhouette, which gave to understand it was some kind of ghost or just a figment of imagination. What was more, it became clear by the look on the ghost's face that he didn't know what to tell or what to do either.

As he got enough of that spectacle, William shook his head and looked at the apparition again, hoping it would disappear. However, the thing didn't do that but got confused even more with his reaction.

"I beg your pardon…" the ghost made an attempt to speak again. Of course, he understood that a conversation with a dead person would be more than shocking for a living human, but that dazed gaze totally disoriented him.

"And I haven't been in the Animus yet..." William finally managed to say something. Then, thinking that stress could be a possible explanation for what he'd seen, he got to his feet and headed back to his team. "Hm, perhaps I could use a little drink..."

"Please, wait!" getting embarrassed more and more, the ghost of Haytham Kenway, trying to stop him, followed him and even managed to touch his shoulder.

"Ah, right, we didn't buy any alcohol," William muttered as he remembered such an annoying nuisance. However, he didn't feel anything at all.

Suddenly, he heard another voice calling his name, looked forward and saw Rebecca heading toward him.

"Are you okay, Bill?" she asked in anxiety, looking into his tired and somewhat worried eyes.

"Yes, it's alright, Rebecca," William answered, sounding relieved as he turned back and didn't see anybody else this time. Following her, he murmured to himself, "Seems like it was really just the stress…"