Chapter 17: A Mutual Understanding

For the first time in his life, Haytham was completely and utterly speechless. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what had just happened, and as he pondered over whatever the implications of it might be. Kira's words echoed in his head as he tried to make sense of it all, and he struggled to get a grasp of what he was feeling.

There was anger. There was, most certainly, anger. He couldn't believe the nerve of the woman, nor the fact that she had dared to strike him when he was attempting to resolve the matter peacefully. Well, he had been dealing with the matter peacefully, up until the point he decided to fight back. What choice did he have, though? There was no doubt that it had been she who provoked the dispute to begin with, freeing him of any responsibility for what ensued. This, at least, is what he tried to reassure himself.

But what else did he feel? Once he had pushed aside a wave of initial anger, he could not help, nor deny, feeling terribly impressed by her. There was the fact that she had possessed the courage to confront him in the first place; something very few people had ever dared do, and the majority of them did not live to tell the tale. Kira, however, had survived the ordeal. She had confronted him- and lived, despite this- and Haytham had to keep asking himself why. Why had he let her go? He could have killed her, had he wanted to. But for some reason he could not fathom, that was the last thing he wanted.

Not only this, but Haytham was impressed by the fact that she had fared so well in their dispute. Neither party left the fight unscathed, true, but he had certainly fought her with all of his strength, and it had not been enough to overcome her easily. His hand moved to his face, where he felt the blood running from his split lip- a reminder of how close she had come to defeating him. There were not many people who could claim such success, and he frowned as he moved his hand away from his face, the crimson of his blood glistening mockingly on his fingers.

However, there was a final emotion playing on the Templar's mind, and it was this that he struggled most to comprehend: guilt. For some reason he could not explain, he felt tremendously guilty. He could almost feel the weight of it on his shoulders, the feeling that he had done something wrong and that it needed to be righted. But for heaven's sake, what had he to be guilty about? Kira had killed Fletcher, despite his warnings, and thus, had deserved everything he'd put her through.

No. She hadn't.

True enough, she needed to be punished for disobeying his orders those few days ago, but hadn't she faced that punishment when he forced her to rob Connor's people? Was that not sufficient penance for her actions? She had done nothing to warrant being lied to and tricked throughout the last few hours. Absolutely nothing. The realisation dawned on Haytham as to why he felt as if he had wronged her, and it was quite simply because he had.

He sighed, the stillness of the city surrounding him as he considered what to do. Pulling the amulet from the satchel, he held it up towards the fading light of the moon and admired it as it shone between his fingertips. It was a terrible shame that doing the right thing would require him to part with it.

It was not a long walk to Kira's house- it was the sort of distance she would usually consider for a leisurely stroll- and yet her feet dragged with every footstep. Her head ached. Almost all of her ached, wracked with exhaustion and pain, as she trod enduringly along the cobbles of the street. Whilst she was usually agile and vigilant, she now found herself occasionally stumbling on the uneven ground. Looking up at her surroundings, and at the various houses, shops and inns that made up the street, she calculated that she had at least half an hour until she reached home. It would have usually been shorter, but then again, she was not usually in such a state.

The sky had darkened, and the countless stars littered so vastly above disappeared as clouds formed overhead. Kira groaned to herself as she felt the first few drops of rain spatter on her head, each drop taunting her with its very presence. Despite her tiredness, Kira hastened forwards as the drops became heavier and more frequent; this was going to be no light shower. She thanked God for the fact that she was an Assassin as she drew her hood over her head, protecting her somewhat from the rapidly worsening downpour. Still, before she knew it the rain had soaked through her robes, chilling her skin and making her clothes drag as she walked onwards. Frustrated, uncomfortable, and now seething with anger, Kira found the strength to make it home much faster.

The front door of Kira's house shone from the murky atmosphere the weather had formed, and it took all of her control to not shout out in joy at the sight of it. Her little home had never seemed so inviting as she hurried up to the door, at the same time reaching for the key she kept in her pocket. The sound of the rain striking the cobbles of the path was almost deafening; its fall fast and heavy, and still drenching her clothes. As she reached to unlock the door, she noted that stark bruises had formed on her wrists- a crude reminder of how Haytham had restrained her so forcefully. Despite being faint, they were most certainly noticeable, and Kira cursed as she wondered how she would explain such marks to Connor and Achilles.

She pushed the thought aside. Yes, she would need to come up with some clever explanation, but she would do so in the morning. For now, she needed rest. Opening the door, Kira revelled in the knowledge she had escaped the rain and smiled as the sound of it drew to an instant quiet, suppressed as she closed the door behind her. She made her way to her bedroom, already peeling the drenched clothes from her skin, wincing in discomfort as they tried to cling to her. It was dark, but she was able to find the set of drawers in which she kept her clothes. After fumbling for a moment for her nightgown, she found and slipped into it, the soft and silky fabric feeling so much better than she remembered. She almost threw herself into her bed, and as she rested her head on her pillow, she had no doubt she would soon be enjoying a deep and much-needed sleep.

An hour later, after tossing and turning a countless number of times, Kira decided that sleep would not come. There was simply too much on her mind.

There was Achilles. Achilles, her mentor and friend of so many years, whom she had treated so disrespectfully. Her resentment towards him had been justified, surely; she was only human. Still, speaking with Shay had revealed that all of her mentor's actions had been to the benefit of the brotherhood, and was that not what mattered most? She understood now, even respected the reasons for his decision to lie. Yet how could she tell him that? Perhaps she should tell the truth. Tell him, at least, that she had spoken with Shay, and that she was sorry for doubting him. Surely he would forgive her for being upset, after she had been so shocked by Shay's survival. Yes. That was what she would do. Tomorrow morning, as soon as possible, she would return to the manor and apologise for what she had said.

A little relieved at having come to a conclusion, Kira got up and reached for her dressing gown, pulling it roughly over her shoulders. She decided that if she could not sleep, she could perhaps find a good book to escape her troubled thoughts with, and so made for her sitting room with this in mind. After lighting a small gas lamp, which provided her with just enough light to read by, she settled down in her armchair, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling up with a book in her lap.

She read for a little while, but to her annoyance, her mind kept drifting to other things. What about Haytham? True, when she had confronted him before she had done so without fear, but looking back now, she wondered if she should worry about what had occurred. Should she be afraid? There was no doubt in her mind that Haytham had been positively seething when she had left. But then, didn't he have a right to be angry? She had attacked him. At the time, she thought she'd had reason to, but then, Achilles had been lying to her for years, and she didn't physically attack him. She should have been rational, should have kept her temper at bay.

She pressed her head into her hand. She'd been such a fool. She'd let her emotions get the better of her, and had probably only made things worse in doing so. She sighed as she thought about what consequences her actions might have. If only she'd acted differently.

A sudden knock at the door surprised her to the extent that she sat bolt upright, her book falling from her lap onto the floor. She winced as she heard it fall, and bent to pick it up, listening out for another sound. It was probably just the wind, or her mind playing tricks on her. Looking up at her clock, she frowned as she saw how late it was. Half-past three? She should be in bed; she was going to be exhausted in the morning.

And then it came again, this time, an unmistakable knock at her door. She narrowed her eyes towards the sound, suspiciously. Then she remembered. It must be Connor, surely. She hadn't returned to the manor after talking to Shay, and therefore he had come to see if she was alright. It was awfully kind of him, however, at half-past three in the morning, it would have been kinder for him to have waited a few more hours. Begrudgingly, she rose from her seat and made her way to the door. Unlocking it, she thought about what she would say to him about what Shay had told her. How much should she tell him? She wasn't sure.

She looked up at him before her eyes widened in surprise. "Mr Kenway?" she stammered.

"Miss Lawrence," Haytham greeted her, the calmness of his voice completely contrasting the surprise in hers.

She stood, in shocked silence, as he regarded her with a nonchalant stare. She realised how foolish she must look to him, standing agape in the doorway in her nightclothes… Glancing down at herself, she realised how inadequately dressed she was, and she hurriedly tightened her loose dressing gown around herself in an attempt to recover some modesty. She then met his gaze, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to give you this," he said, his voice and expression emotionless, as he held out the satchel.

Kira didn't take it- not at first- for even in her sleep-deprived state, she knew that this could be some sort of trick. She didn't understand; why would he give it to her? Whilst she hesitated, she realised that some of the rain was making it through the doorway, and she took a step away from it, whilst folding her arms across her chest so as to keep warm. Haytham clearly misread this action, though, for he stepped forwards a little, still offering the satchel.

He spoke simply. "I am not trying to trick you. It is yours, you can have it."

Reluctantly, her eyes not leaving his, she reached out and took it. She weighed it in her hand for a moment, but it felt no different than before. Was it true? Was he really giving it to her? She frowned at him, unsure of what to think. "But why?"

"The reason is not important. Now, if you don't mind, I shall take my leave."

She nodded, slightly, and watched as he turned to leave. He had progressed only a few steps away before she regained her senses.

"Wait!" she called out suddenly, much to both his and her own surprise.

He stopped, then turned to face her with an inquisitive gaze. Hesitantly, she took a few steps outside to meet him, despite the feeling of the rain beginning to dampen her clothes. "Won't you come in?"

It was his turn to look confused. "Why…?"

"Because I don't understand you- not in the slightest. But I'd like to."

His brow creased into a frown, but after casting a glance at the overcast sky above, and noting that the rain was showing no signs of stopping, he shrugged indifferently. "In that case, I would be glad to accept your invitation."

Already anxious to get out of the rain, Kira led him inside. Despite the fact that she had asked him in, she couldn't escape a feeling of unease as she heard him shut the door behind them. She wasn't actually sure of what she was doing, but she was curious of Haytham's incentives, and decided to let this curiosity get the better of her. It was something she would probably grow to regret, but for now, she dismissed the thought. After lighting a few lamps, she found herself standing awkwardly before him in the sitting room, unsure of how to act.

"Can I… get you something to drink? Tea, perhaps?" She asked it more out of habit than kindness.

"Have you anything stronger?" he responded, as he took off his drenched hat and coat, and placed them to the side.

"Yes, of course." She turned to make her way to the kitchen. "I may join you in that."

As she poured a drink of whiskey for herself and her guest, she made sure to keep her ears alert to the movements he was making from the next room. Having assured herself he wasn't up to anything, she picked up the drinks, noticing her hands shake ever so slightly. What was she doing? She was frightened, and rightly so. After all, she had just invited a powerful enemy into her abode, and for what? A friendly chat? She prayed that Achilles would never find out about this.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the living room, drinks in hand. As she entered, she observed Haytham crouched over by the fireplace, in the process of lighting it. It only then occurred to her how cold it was in the house. She had been so lost in her thoughts before that the chill in the air had gone unnoticed, but now she shivered, grateful for the fact her guest had taken the initiative to light a fire. He looked up at her approach and took the drink gratefully when she offered it to him.

Whilst he continued with his task, Kira returned to her armchair, sipping at the whiskey quietly as she watched the beginnings of flames appear from within the fireplace. The alcohol and the prospect of fire warmed her, but she frowned as she saw Haytham pause and regard the drink she had given him with a suspicious stare. He raised it slightly, inspecting it distrustfully. She rolled her eyes.

"I haven't poisoned it, if that is what you are thinking."

He shrugged. "You did say you would kill me, should I come near you again. You cannot blame me for being careful."

She smiled. "No, I suppose not."

Still, satisfied with what Kira had said, Haytham took a few sips of the whiskey before returning his attention to the fire. As before, Kira watched him for a minute or two, still considering what she could say. She shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

"Mr Kenway, I was hoping I might be able to apologise for what happened earlier."

He said nothing, his gaze still fixated on the budding fire, and she took this as a sign to continue.

"Look, what you did? It was wrong, and you should not have lied to me. Even so, I should not have acted in the way that I did. We did not need to fight. We should have been able to... to come to an understanding, of sorts."

"The fault does not lie solely with you. I am afraid we were both equally to blame, even if it was you who… overreacted."

She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself, knowing he was right. He looked up at her, somewhat surprised by her lack of response, but entertained by it all the same. She met his gaze and found herself frustrated by how he smiled at her amusedly.

"Do not misinterpret what I have said. Yes, I am apologising for what occurred, but that does not mean I forgive you. At the end of the day, you are my enemy, and I still despise you… I am simply stating that even as enemies, we should solve our problems more diplomatically."

Haytham straightened, the fire now blazing, and took a few more sips of his drink before replying. "It is a shame that more Assassins do not possess your desire for a non-violent solution to our problems. Much bloodshed could have been prevented."

Kira was inclined to point out that the Templars were just as keen to encourage violence as the Assassins, but she held her tongue. "Unfortunately it is the way of the world: that peace cannot be achieved without blood being spilt. I only hope I live to see the day when this is changed."

"As do I."

"Then at least we can agree on something."

"I am certain we would agree on many things should we ever have the time to discuss them. I think that you and I are more alike than either dares admit."

She laughed a little at that, in a way that told him she didn't believe him. He wasn't offended- he just smiled back at her, agreeably, and told himself that one day he must remember to prove her wrong.

They fell silent for a small while, both unsure of what to say, both lost in their own thoughts. It was Haytham who spoke first.

"May I ask you something?"

"That depends on what it is."

He tilted his head slightly to the side, inquisitively, as he regarded her. "Do you truly despise me as much as you claim to?"

She nodded her head a little. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

He frowned at the frankness of her answer, and then conceded that at least she was being honest. "No reason- I was merely… curious."

"Oh, come now," she started, sensing she had offended him, "what did you expect me to say? That secretly, I am very fond of you?" She laughed. "What reason have I to be?"

He narrowed his eyes at her; that had been a little too honest for his liking. Still, to his own surprise, he didn't reprimand her. He stayed silent, afraid that if he spoke, his temper would get the better of him, and another dispute would be sparked.

Kira leant forwards, somewhat shocked by his silence, as she had expected some fiery retort from him. "Mr Kenway, I do not mean to offend you, but I have no illusions of your regard for me. I am sure you think very lowly of me, but-"

"On the contrary, I think very highly of you."

She leant back into her chair a little, a frown forming on her face. She hadn't expected that, and she could muster only a simple answer in her confused state. "You do?"

"Naturally. You possess a great many skills and qualities: you are perceptive, intuitive, resilient, intelligent... Why shouldn't I think highly of you?"

Kira had fallen silent, and she couldn't help blushing at the sudden and unexpected praise. True enough, Haytham was a Templar, but that didn't mean she shouldn't be pleased to have impressed him in such a way, especially given his position.

Haytham saw her cheeks redden and smiled, pleased that his praise meant something to her. He took the opportunity to draw a chair from across the room, and he seated himself by the fire, grateful for the warmth it was providing- despite the fact that most of his attire had been soaked through. Kira watched him, still deathly silent, as she considered what to say to such a compliment. She took a sip of her whiskey, the alcohol a trickling river of fire in her throat. She spoke softly, staring deeply into her drink in order to avoid his gaze. "That's very kind of you to say."

"It is certainly kinder than what you have said to me, yes."

Her complexion turned an even darker and more obvious shade of crimson. "I didn't mean to-"

"I understand. Still, I find it difficult to believe that you despise entirely everything about me. Come," he smiled, leaning forwards in his chair confidently, "use your imagination. There must be something you like."

Kira said nothing, and for a while, Haytham presumed it would stay that way. He shrugged, about to speak when she instead spoke. Her warm, brown eyes rose to meet his cooler ones. "Your voice."

"My… voice?" His brow furrowed in confusion as he wondered what on earth she meant. He tilted his head, intrigued.

"Yes. When you speak, I almost feel as if I am in London again."

"You miss it?"

"It has been so long since I have returned there- but yes, I miss it. I should like to go back again sometime soon, when things are less troubled here."

"That may be a while."

"I know."

Kira's gaze went to the floor, dejectedly. After a few moments, she shook her head, not wanting her thoughts to be plagued with rose-tinted memories of London, and questions as to whether or not she would ever see it again. She regarded Haytham, composedly. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"You seem to be impressed by my abilities, so what do you think of my being an Assassin?"

He paused, before stating: "I think you're a fool."

"Why?" She wouldn't usually let such a blunt insult slide, but for now, she was willing to do so- her curiosity once again prevailing.

Haytham leant back into his chair a little, making himself comfortable. "Because it is a waste of your potential. With things as they are with the Assassins, you will never receive the training and the experience necessary to better yourself any further. It is a shame- a dreadful shame- that your mentor is so neglectful of you."

"Achilles is not neglectful!" Kira exclaimed, more loudly than anticipated. She was willing to let any critique towards herself be overlooked, but to her mentor? Not a chance.

The Templar opposite her sat, unmoved by her sudden outburst. His cool gaze kept her heated one, whilst he replied, simply, "when was the last time that Achilles trained you?"

Kira froze, all signs of outrage vanished from her expression in an instant, as she already began to understand the point Haytham was making. "I- I don't remember…"

"Why has he not trained you?"

"I am not certain."

"Then I shall enlighten you. He no longer trains you because he's found a new pupil, and by my guess, a pupil that can be shaped into his own image. I'd wager that my son is far more agreeable than you when it comes to following orders, and if that is so, then naturally your mentor has turned his efforts to the student with more prospect. To put it simply: if there is another who is more likely to accomplish what Achilles wants, then why should he waste his time with you?"

Kira winced. His words were like the cut of a knife, and the truth in them only rubbed salt in the wound. She had turned a ghostly shade of pale, the reality of what he was saying weighing on her. Haytham watched as she stared at the floor, evidently hurt by what he had said. He felt sorry for her, naturally, but knew full-well that he hadn't told her anything she didn't already know.

"I am sorry," he said, "but you know it to be true."

She nodded, ever so slightly, in agreement, but then shook her head. "You need not be sorry. It has nothing to do with you."

"No- but it is an unfortunate position you have found yourself in, and for that, you have my sympathies." With these words, he finished the last of his drink, before standing abruptly. He reached for his hat and coat. "I think it best that I take my leave; the others will be expecting me."

She rose out of courtesy, straightening the skirts of her nightdress and gown as she did so. "Yes… of course."

Her mind still was alive with thoughts as she reflected on what had been said, particularly about Achilles. She passed Haytham and proceeded to lead him to the front door, which she held open politely. The rain still hammered on the ground outside, the sound of it still overpowering all other sounds.

"Thank you," Haytham muttered as he walked past her, straightening his hat as he did so. He looked up at the grey and gloomy sky and silently cursed it, before turning his attention back to the Assassin- a far more pleasant sight, though he would deny ever thinking so if someone were to ask. He tipped his hat. "Goodnight, Miss Lawrence."

"Goodnight Mr Kenway."

Kira closed the door as soon as he turned his back to her, endeavouring to keep the cold night air from stealing away the heat of the fire. She returned to her living room, and after putting away the two glasses, snuggled back into the warmth of her armchair. Her talk with Haytham had given her many things to consider, yet she was left with a feeling of contentment, despite this. Somehow reassured, she relaxed, her busy mind now a little more at ease. Only one thought remained, as she drifted into a comfortable sleep: everything would be alright. For now, at least.


Author notes:

Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story so far. Please review, follow, or favourite my story, as I appreciate all feedback, and I'd love to hear what you think. :)

Wow. Ok. It's been a while, and I feel particularly bad as I had promised to get this chapter out months ago. Unfortunately for this story, the holidays happened, (and didn't they go quickly?), and in the last few weeks I've been settling into college. So yeah, I've been super busy. But hey, I hope it's been worth the wait.

As for the next chapter? I want to say I'll get it out soon, but if you've been following this story for that long, you know that when I say that, it usually doesn't happen. Who knows, though? We'll see.

Thanks again for your patience! :D

Kittycat312