Hello Readers! Here's another chapter. This one's a bit longer than the previous few :)

! AC3 Ending Spoiler Alert ! Disclaimer: All characters (except Annora and Marie) belong to Ubisoft, as do the cover images.

After Charles leaves, Haytham and Annora must work out where they stand and how the truth will affect their relationship.

Enjoy! ^^

XIII

'How desperately difficult it is to be honest with oneself. It is much easier to be honest with other people.'

Ann stood there, staring down at the blades in dismay. Was she ready to kill in order to survive? She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and looked towards Haytham, his eyes bore only sorrow, and he refrained from smiling. She turned after a while, his hand escaping as she stifled a sob.

"I guess everything's over. No more London, no more promises, no more false hopes."

"Ann..."

"I'm such a cheat. I cheated myself, imagining that I would have felt happy if I told myself I loved you, that I would have found someone who wanted me," she muttered, her voice wanting to break while her body trembled, "but when I already had that happiness, I... I took it for granted and neglected it. I feel so horrible, I cheated on you, even though we're not even together. I hate myself for it, it may have been just a kiss but... He had no idea who I was, to him I was some kind of soul mate, to him it was fate."

"I know Connor, I predicted as much."

"To me," she turned her head slightly, eyes catching how the light of the outside sun illuminated the room, speckles of dust flying around in circles together, silently falling on the fabric of the armchairs and the once polished surfaces of the bookshelves. "It was his eyes, they wanted me, and I felt like I could no longer control myself, like my body was no longer my own."

He took a step forward, reaching his hand out, the floral cotton of her dress fitting over her arms perfectly, every inch of carefully woven material sliding over her body like a blanket. The body which he so desperately wanted to hold.

"Do you not realise that's how I feel every-time I'm with you?" He asked, taking another cautious step towards her, she flinched when he caressed her shoulder softly, still keeping somewhat of a distance, as much as he desired to touch her again, he was afraid she no longer trusted him.

"It's such a powerful feeling isn't it? Like you don't ever want to let that person go because you cherish them so much. That's what Connor felt. That's what I feel also."

She turned around then, throwing his hand away, the veins in her eyes visible as stray tears escaped her lashes. He watched her but she refused to meet his eyes. It pained her even more that the feelings between them were mutual, yet through her Father's death they were supposed to be mortal enemies.

"I never felt that around him, you must be mistaken. I only ever felt like that with you."

He felt a wonderful, unexplainable joy glow within him, but her eyes showed that she felt nothing but sadness and guilt. She may have made a mistake, she was young, he should have understood how much she craved for someone to say they loved her or at least cared about her. But what he did was unforgivable, he was the one at fault, he was the one who rid her of the only family that understood her, that taught her. He could see it all in her eyes.

"I killed him, and for something like that I can't ask for your forgiveness for I simply do not deserve it," he said, simply, without excuses. There was no point in denying nor escaping the truth, and he didn't want to deceive her any longer. She looked up, he was clothed in the long navy trench coat he had on when he first arrived, and it felt like he was leaving, and never coming back.

"How could you have known Haytham? What done is done, I just wish I knew sooner."

"I understand," he replied, noticing how her hands looked cold and pale, how the flushed skin broke and how her knuckles were bruised, he inspected the cut on her cheek, a silent gasp escaping him, his chest clenching with worry, he indeed was love-sick.

"And although you might not believe me, I care for you still, after all that's happened," she whispered and his eyes gleamed with relief and shock, how could she not hate him after he lied to her the whole time and hurt her like that with what he had done?

Her eyes filled with tears, unable to hold back, and she began to cry. Her hands struggled to hold back her sorrows, while Haytham struggled to watch her in such a state. If she was hurt, he was hurt also. What she felt, he wanted to feel it with her. He took hold of her waist with both hands and to her surprise pulled her forward, their bodies colliding as her hands caught his shirt, sobbing as he embraced her, his body tied to her. He rested his chin on her head, her soft hair tickling his skin as he fell for her all over again.

"I know what you want, you want to stay friends with me but keep your distance, because you need time," he said and felt her nod, a loud cry escaping her lips. "Yet I don't want to lose you. I don't want make the mistake of letting you slip away."

"Haytham..." He heard her mutter as she calmed down, letting her go, "do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do," he replied quickly, "and I hope I haven't lost you yet."

"No you haven't, but I do need time, I need to come to terms with who you really are and what you have done. I need time to collect my thoughts. So until then I think we should indeed become friends and not lovers. Maybe then I will figure out what it is that I feel towards you."

"I will wait as long as it takes, but promise me," he reached his hand out and she hesitantly rested her palm in his, his slender fingers caressing her skin, making her realise how deeply she craved his touch. How she wasn't able to stop such a craving, how she wasn't able to bring herself to hate him. "Promise me you will never give yourself to another man."

She looked up into his eyes, they cared for her, they didn't want distance or lies or betrayal any more, they wanted her, all of her. She nodded and gasped as Haytham slid his hands up her arms comfortingly, her eyes closing as she felt his lips against her forehead.

He did nothing more however, stepping away hastily. She saw him clench his hands into fists as he traversed the small distance to the kitchen, he was angry, he evidently hated having to pretend he was alright with her terms, and she felt even worse as she herself wanted to just quit pretending to be strong and in need of time. Haytham's arms seemed a much better alternative.

But. He killed her Father. She should have planned revenge instead, but something in her heart told her that Francis wouldn't have wanted to be avenged, not now, he wouldn't have wanted her to kill a man who had no idea that she was related to the Assassin. It must have been Charles' plan in the beginning anyway, he executed her Father despite knowing the consequences. Haytham didn't. Haytham probably didn't even dream of surviving the confrontation with Connor - knowing his son would have been stronger - let alone meeting a woman who he wanted to be with at such a stage in his life. Maybe she needed time, but certainly not away from Haytham, they faced so many obstacles together and she had no intent to throw it all away by denying what she felt once again.

"Haytham," she said but surprise lit her eyes and she gasped as she felt his chest against her back, suddenly his heat entering her space like a thousand fires.

"Yes?"

"I...It's nothing," she whispered, not knowing what to say.

"You should rest, I want to treat your wounds."

"Wounds?" She asked, turning, noticing he held some rubbing alcohol, a woolen rag and a few bandages. He nodded and she lifted her palm to her cheek, not feeling the pain before. "Oh, these... They're just cuts."

"How did they come about?"

"The guards accidentally cut me when I struggled," she explained, letting out an awkward laugh as he directed her upstairs.

As they climbed the steps she dreaded what was about to happen, she was already unable to control herself when he pecked her head like that, if he touched her again she would surely lose it. Yet, a part of her wanted to lose it. A part of her wanted him to embrace her again, to take her, to love her with all that he had.

"So I guess you're hurt elsewhere as well?"

She heard the door close behind them and noticed the sun setting in the horizon as she rested her hands on the stone window sill and looked out the glass, watching the warm colours of autumn dance around the sky, no clouds in the distance, the view was beautiful.

"It's just a few cuts Haytham," she replied after a while, but the man had a different opinion.

"Ann," he muttered and she looked at him, his eyes motioning towards the bed, seeing no other option she obliged and did as she was told, sitting quietly on the edge of the quilt. He sat next to her, the weight shifting, after he took off his trench coat, throwing it onto the opposite bed that belonged to him. Her thighs touched his own, his heat enveloping her again. How was it that she was always able to feel people's heat so strongly? When she focused enough, she could have sworn she saw colours around people that she was familiar with and could hear them from far away. Maybe she was crazy, maybe something was wrong with her, but sometimes she saw spectres walk the streets, ghost-like residue left behind by past memories and events.

"You should take the blades off," the man said suddenly, she blinked in confusion and then noticed she was still wearing them.

"Oh, yes," she whispered and removed the weapons, placing them carefully under the bed. Her skin was scarred, pale and close enough to bleeding. She flinched as she saw the scars and Haytham caught her gaze, not even having to ask as she said, "the blades, I guess they scar the wearer, Father also suffered from this. They weakened him. I too feel weak, even though I have not worn them for as long."

"You can't wear them then, you can learn to use a sword, just please refrain from hurting yourself."

"But..."

"Listen to me Ann, I will not let you destroy yourself," Haytham cut in, his voice sharp and annoyed. She nodded, her expression saddening. He took the alcohol and poured some on the rag but heard a squeal. Ann scowled, she feared the pain that was coming her way. The man already saw through her eyes and took one of her arms, holding it in his palm softly. "This will sting a little, try to endure it," he whispered softly, his tone changing. He pressed the soaked rag to her skin and she let out a cry, before gritting her teeth and forcing herself to be strong, something she was never good at. She knew that if she let the pain get the best of her she would end up crying her eyes out again, that was one thing she wanted to avoid. She felt the pain melt away as the man tied a bandage around her forearm. She opened her eyes and noticed his soft smile, he was much taller than her and she always felt like everything would be alright when she was with him. He did the same to her other arm, scorching pain coming and going in what felt like an eternity.

"Ouch," she muttered, "that was hell."

"You made it through hell then," he replied, but then noticed she was still in pain. "Ann?"

"I'm sorry, the cuts still sting, I'll be fine though, thank you for doing this for me."

"I'm not done yet," he admitted and carefully pressed the fabric to the cut on her cheek. She hissed, but then suddenly felt his hand rub her thigh in comfort, her face flushing as her eyes tried to find something else to look at other than his own orbs.

"Haytham," she breathed heavily. Then she felt the damp air of the cottage hit her skin all of a sudden, noticing he lifted her dress up until her bare thighs came into view, her lips letting out a surprised gasp. "What are you doing?"

"Have you not realised you also have a cut on your thigh? How are you going to explain this one?"

She blushed and looked away again, "well, those bastards may have tried something. I didn't let them of course."

She heard Haytham sigh heavily, catching with the corner of her eyes how his expression shifted from annoyed to furious.

"Why did you not tell me before? I would've ripped them to shreds with my bare hands!"

"I didn't want to worry you..."

"You don't even have to try to worry me woman! You always worry me! You're just so fragile and naïve... I don't know how you managed all these years alone."

"I managed because I didn't have any guards or Templars coming after me," she replied, slightly offended. "How can you say that anyway?" She whispered.

"I shouldn't have... Just be careful Ann... I worry for you because there are so many things in this world that can harm you, and I can't protect you yet."

She frowned and reached out to take the rag from him, but he didn't let it go, instead forcing her to hold onto his hand in hope of him releasing it.

"What are you trying to achieve?" He asked, chuckling when she pouted.

"I'll manage to fix this up, remember I was the one who treated your wounds once."

"Now I'm returning the favour so let me finish."

"But," she began, trailing off when he pressed the cold fabric to her thigh, feeling her skin sizzle as the pain returned.

"Careful, that hurts!" She yelled, but he continued until she took hold of his hands and pushed them away. "Are you trying to torture me or something?"

"Yes, as punishment for not telling me before, you should have some faith in me even if I really am the monster here."

She didn't reply for a while, watching in silence as he bandaged her thigh, his fingers caressing her skin as he took his time. It really was torture.

"You're not a monster." She whispered when he finished, "a monster wouldn't have cleaned my wounds, at least not with such care. I don't think you're only returning a favour here Haytham. You just don't want to tell me why you worry so much and why you treat me like this."

"Truth is..." She looked up into his eyes, seeing his smile, "I want to feel your skin, I want to touch you, because I lust after you."

She felt as her lips parted in what she knew was shock, but she said nothing not wanting to give him false hopes and then disappoint him, despite being so overjoyed when she heard him speak those words. She needed time. As much as she needed the man who so desperately wanted her. He noticed how uncomfortable she was and decided to change the subject, he had to understand that she wasn't going to throw herself at him after everything she found out that day. Not yet.

"Charles will return, you must train and ready yourself, you may have to kill him. I am unable to do so in my current condition."

"I know," her head dropped and she stared at his hand, how the skin paled around his knuckles when he clenched her dress.

"I know you don't want to remember, but how did you meet Charles? I don't understand how one woman can be so involved with a man as cruel as him."

She gazed up again, looking to the side and staring at the vanity table as if it was the most interesting thing in the world while she focused on those painful memories. She had a choice, she could refuse to tell him, yet she wanted him to know everything, she wanted him to understand, to console her. She never told anyone. No one ever held her or told her it wasn't her fault, that everything was okay. The images, they stuck to the back of her mind, unable to be forgotten. She dreamt it nearly every night, and was always afraid, afraid the man would come back and finish what he had begun. The fear kept her up at night, until Haytham came. He made her feel safe.

"I met him when I still lived with Father's wife in Boston. I was about 13. He was very pleasant to us, he bought me gifts and took my family out to dinner. Father was away at the time, so his wife had complete control over me. I liked Charles, but I never really loved him like I thought I did," she explained before looking towards Haytham, his expression patient, worry glazed his eyes as well as interest and intrigue. "A year later, Mother – as we were to call her – told me I was betrothed to Charles and had no choice in the matter. It was for my own good she used to say, so I would live comfortably. Only in Autumn did I find out that Father was murdered, I knew about Templars and Assassins, yet I never suspected Charles to be one." Haytham noticed how her face paled and how her palms started to tremble. She clenched her hands together in an attempt to stop them from shaking and took a breath, it was becoming more difficult for her to recollect the events and seemed to be causing her great pain.

"Ann, you can stop there, I..."

"No!" She cut in quickly, grabbing Haytham's large hand with both of hers, her fingers intertwining with his own, she didn't notice, so it must have been on instinct. "I want you to know everything. Everything there is to know about me. I... After Father died, Charles found me here as I had run away from home. I thought he was there to console me, but instead he...he... I told him he couldn't marry me when I'm older because I did not love him in such a way but he retaliated. He forced himself on me, and I couldn't stop him... If he didn't step in Charles would have..." She began to cry.

"Ann, I had no idea such a thing happened," Haytham took her hands in his own and lifted them to his lips, feeling useless, there was nothing he could do, if he knew he would have saved her that day. But then he realised that she mentioned someone other than Charles, and his eyes opened in surprise. "But...Wait, who do you mean by 'he'?" She guided his hands towards her face and he softly wiped away her tears with the tips of his fingers before taking a careful hold of her heavenly face, urging her to look into his eyes and reply.

"This boy, about my age, he heard my screams and got in through the open doors, he had a bow and arrow and... It cut through Charles' arm. He was angry but somehow got hold of himself before disappearing outside. It happened so fast."

"A boy? He must have been fearless to stand up to a man such as Charles himself."

"His hair was dark and nearly reached his shoulders, and he was slightly darker skinned, like the Natives. He was dressed like them too."

Suddenly her eyes widened, and Haytham gasped, both realising who it was at the same moment. The man frowned before pinching the bridge of his nose, the woman placed her hand over her mouth as she struggled to hide her amazement.

"It was Connor," Haytham spoke up and she nodded in disbelief. "Connor was your saviour."

More chapters coming soon! :) Please leave a review/fave/follow if you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you! ^^

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy