Hello again!

A/N: Two chapters in one day! Hope you're going to enjoy this one, it is only a bit longer than usual, but a lot of action takes place.

Warning: Minimal graphic gore, but not much.

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

Ann finally confronts Charles.

Enjoy! :)

XIX

'You corrupted everything we stand for, and lost everything we gained. All of it, sacrificed on the altar of your own spite.'

"Goodbye Charles."

All Ann heard was a loud shot slicing through the afternoon air. The breeze hit her skin first, then she felt the torture as the projectile slashed through the clothed flesh of her arm. It easily broke apart the fabric of the thin sleeve, at the same time slitting the skin deeply enough to leave an open wound, a metallic scent of blood filling the air around her as she felt the liquid seep through and trickle slowly down the rest of the fabric. She let out a painful cry and fell to her knees, grasping at the injury with her palm. Yet she didn't see darkness like she expected to, she didn't die, the bullet never even went through any of her vital organs like Charles planned for it to. As she looked up, her eyes teary from the initial blow, she discovered that she was still alive because Charles wasn't the one to fire the bullet.

It was Haytham.

But the shot wasn't aimed at her.

The woman gasped as she saw with her very own eyes Charles' limp body falling to his knees – with a fresh bullet-shaped hole tearing the flesh of his temple – before letting out an inhuman, cracked, cry of shock and pain, and finally falling forward onto the dirt, small clouds of it forming around his dead body as he collided with the ground. As the view cleared, her tears freely falling from her lashes, she saw Haytham stood directly behind the man, a few feet from him, with his hand up in the air, clenched around a flintlock. He pulled the trigger, it went straight through the target, but ricocheted and grazed her own arm in the process. Haytham certainly felt he needed more target practise at that moment. He then realised what he had done, what crime he committed, before he dropped the pistol to the ground and stood there for a second, staring at the scene before him.

Ann began to softly cry and whimper, unable to hold back the fear that she felt the whole time. She saw death, she felt its grasp. It was terrifying. Haytham cautiously walked over to the girl, avoiding looking at Charles, instead focusing on her and only her. Like that day in the forest, after killing the wolf, he kneeled on one knee in front of her, hiding the dead body from her view and waiting for her to notice him and his warmth. She took a breath, her fingertips wiping her tears away to no avail, and then, just like Haytham planned, she saw him right before her eyes. He took off his tricorn, resting it beside her, and leaned forward. She didn't know how to react, the man she wished for actually appeared before her and saved her life, killed his own Templar 'brother,' in order to save her. She reached her palm out, her fingers shaking, with such hesitation he thought she would retreat. But soon enough the softness of her skin melted against his own, and he leaned in to the touch with content he never felt before in his life. She was there, she was alive and she needed him. He felt as her fingertips moved in circles, feathering across his skin, her nails digging in very softy when she herself drifted towards the man, their foreheads clashing tenderly before she leaned her head down, the tip of his nose brushing her temple, his lips skimming across the bridge of her own. His lips quickly swept across her skin until they found the rim on her ear though, which led him right to where he wanted to be. His hands carefully drifted across her chest, reaching her shoulders which they rested upon, tightly holding onto her.

"Haytham," she whispered, her voice never so light and angelic, yet so frightened.

"I nearly lost you," he breathed in her ear, his voice incredibly gentle, pleading, apologising. How could she not forgive him everything when he spoke to her with such love in his tone?

He wanted to say more, so much more, but his expression changed when he opened his eyes to see the one man he was running from for so long. A few feet before them stood Connor himself, his hands clenched into fists as his hidden blades retracted, his eyes narrow and focused on the scene, his brows furrowed into an expression of pure fury and disbelief. His teeth were visible, gritted together as if he was about to growl at them like a hungry animal.

Ann noticed Haytham's sudden silence and softly pushed his body away from hers, tilting her head to the side to see who or what he was staring at with such intensity in his eyes. She immediately spun around on the spot, hissing briefly as she felt pain course through her arm. Her eyes caught the sight of Connor and she gasped, his eyes were blood-shot and merciless. Never before had she seen a man possessed by so much anger. Haytham got up abruptly and stayed behind the woman, not even flinching when he saw Connor take a step forward. The girl however still couldn't believe her eyes, how did the Assassin find them? How long did he follow her for? How did she never notice his presence?

"Connor," she whispered and pressed her clenched hand against the ground, pushing herself off as she returned to her feet, shaking the dirt off her palm and grabbing her wounded arm in an attempt to pause the gushing blood. Another hiss escaped her lips and she closed her eyes for a few seconds, embracing the stinging pain. At least she was alive. A miracle in itself.

"When exactly were you going to tell me... about this?" Connor shouted across the breeze.

Ann's eyes darted to his own and at that moment she felt no anger, but instead guilt and regret. Regret that a good man stood before her, ready to do evil deeds out of nothing but jealousy and resentment. "Are you still going to deny any relation to my Father, or did he force you to do anything against your will?"

"He didn't force me into anything," she replied before he could say any more.

Haytham stood behind her, watching as blood seeped around her fingers as she held onto the injury with incredible strength. At that moment he certainly admired her, and couldn't help but reach his palm out to rest on her shoulder. She felt a shiver run down her skin as she realised what he did, his skin felt warm and soft, comforting, even in moments such as those. No matter what he did, he was still the one to comfort her, every time.

Connor observed the gesture and shook his head in disgust.

"I don't believe anything you say, after all those lies... I can't imagine how foolish I was to let you lead me on like that."

"I never lead you on!" She was quick to object to his accusing words, and felt like anything she planned to say would no longer convince him otherwise. "I told you to stop before you got hurt. I never intended for you to find out, to hurt like this."

"Who do you take me for god-dammit?" Connor yelled, "you think I'd just let you leave without a word and continue living in the lies you told me? You were always suspicious, hell, I thought you would warm up to me eventually... But all this time you were conspiring with my own Father? The man I believed, with my whole heart, I had killed."

Ann couldn't deny anything he said any longer, she was conspiring with the Templar, not to take over the colonies, or the Order, or to kill the Assassins but to escape it all. She was only doing it because she loved Haytham though, it wasn't for her own gain. It was to make sure Haytham was safe, taken care of, and never again alone.

"Have you no sympathy?" Her voice was profound and she had enough, being thought of as a pathetic Templar when all she was doing was saving Haytham. She never anticipated such a life, never expected to meet the one man she followed through the streets of Boston and New York, admiring him from afar like a child. She never chose this new life, filled with misery and danger, but a life which was no longer lonely but heated with passion and longing for the impossible. That life chose her, Haytham, despite it all, chose her.

"Your Father, the man you so greatly despise, he fights for something just like you do. Even if you do not understand it or are incapable of interpreting his vision. He hurts too, just like all of us... That's why he hurts others. I've already told you this, I thought you would understand it more than anyone."

Haytham didn't know what to feel at that moment, he never appreciated those who pointed out his flaws, but with Ann it was different. He didn't feel pitied by her, but strengthened instead, he felt like she understood him at levels beyond his own understanding. Like she belonged with him and knew him all his life.

Connor cast his eyes down and parted his lips to speak, yet didn't know what to say. He thought of himself as someone who gained great wisdom and matured since he first became an Assassin, but when faced with such words, spoken by the woman he loved, he felt like all of his wisdom was an arrogant façade, he never really understood anything. Or rather anyone in that case.

"I'm sorry for hiding all of this from you, but I'm not sorry for the fact that to this day you are unable to grasp the ideals of both the Assassins, and the Templars." Connor heard no emotion in those words, as it was difficult for Ann to say them in front of both men. Connor took a few steps forward so they would hear him and looked up at her, parting his lips to speak, his tone calmer than before, but still layered with disbelief and disgust.

"So when you spoke of a man whom you loved, with such fondness in your tone, such honest admiration... You spoke of my Father."

There was a silent stillness that deliberately filled the once prominent autumn breeze. Ann's eyes were no longer narrowed with the vigour and poise they displayed moments before, instead they widened as she became startled, feeling the weight of Connor's words. She looked at him with dismay, and felt something inside her break, as if he just told them the world's most hidden secret. Well... to her it was. Haytham knew, she told him some time ago, yet she felt like he would be disgraced by her if he heard it said by another man. She felt sweat trickle down her forehead, not only due to the pain that emanated from her wound, but from the tension she felt in the air and the nerves that came with it. At that moment she sensed how her cheeks must have ignited with a blood-red hue. Her senses clashed together, and she heard Haytham's slow and composed breathing behind her. He didn't sigh in annoyance or smirk or scoff or anything of the sort. He just breathed. Then, his voice floated free, low yet silvery. Questioning her, but not accusing.

"Is it true?"

She felt as his hand left her shoulder, heat escaping, replaced with the coldness that seemed to surround her since the beginning of her days. She felt like a coward, like a naïve and easy woman, unable to ever hold back what she felt for the man ever since she saw him. So she only nodded, very slowly, praying for such a humiliation to end, and beginning to only feel anger towards Connor for revealing the only secret she ever had. There was a silent battle between them, one which would only be resolved if Haytham spoke out, and spoke true.

"Don't think I'll let you get away with surviving Father," Connor interrupted. His voice was suddenly toneless and he took a few more steps towards them. "Get out of my way Ann..."

"Connor what are you planning to do?" She rushed her words and didn't follow his command. He readied his blades already, never before feeling so confident about his actions, never before rejecting another persons opinion or denying to take whatever they said or did into account. He took those steps himself, and in the end deemed himself worthy of any burdens he would gain. He was ready to kill Haytham... Again.

"I came here to reconcile with you, Ann, but now – now I'm here to finish what I had started as an Assassin. You should have never underestimated me."

Ann was startled by his quickened pace as he neared her, with the Templar who became the target standing right behind her. She was the only person that stood in Connor's way. Haytham didn't say anything to protest against his son's advancement, as if he was waiting for the day to come when he would die by his blade again, he didn't beg Ann for salvation either, he didn't lie and profess a love of some kind in order to continue his life. He stood behind her, calamity in each of his breaths, while she was still his shield, shaking, fear-stricken. Her breaths were in turn rapid and heavy, and she was afraid of the moment when she would no longer be able to stand on her feet, conscious, protecting the man for God knows what reason. Maybe it really was her love for him that led her to that day.

"I'm giving you another chance Ann," Connor's voice became honeyed, he turned his hand and curled his fingers slowly in an attempt to lure her, his gaze focusing on her eyes as it became soft and convincing, if not forceful. "Come with me and I will forgive you."

"Why do you resist?"

"I promised him."

"Promised him what? That you'll be faithful to someone who isn't even here with you? Who hasn't got the strength to protect you?"

"You don't understand, I can't betray his trust, he is a hurt man already. He has no one, except me. I can't do this."

"Don't abandon me, don't lie to yourself!"

She could have done what he wanted, she could have taken the second chance with open arms and be with Connor, a man who loved her, yet still loved his thirst for revenge more. He was blaming his Father for his devotion to the Templars, yet wasn't he committing the same mistake? She could have done what was best for herself though, stepped away and let the Templar be killed a second time. Despite this possibility, she wanted to attempt reasoning with the wild Native for the last time.

"Is it not enough that he got rid of Charles Lee? The man who hurt us both?" She asked as he stood only a foot or two away from her. Connor gave her a taut gaze and smirked.

"My Father began all of this and he will be the end, whether you try to talk me out of it or not. Time for forgiveness and sympathy is long gone Ann! He deserves to die, more than anyone, you should believe me, for I am his Son."

"Please, be reasonable, he is your blood, Connor. The Templar's have no power now. He can do nothing, he won't hurt anyone any more."

"He'll hurt you!" Connor yelled and pointed at her, his hand holding onto the blade, it's incredibly sharp end not far from her. She knew he wouldn't as much as touch her, so she held her ground firmly. Haytham understood at that moment, understood that to her he meant something. Something more than a friend or Mentor, to her he meant the world. He felt his heart clench in realisation that for the first time he was the one being protected, there was no one left, except the woman who so courageously stood before him, injured and afraid, but still strengthened by the truth brought on by her own feelings. Strengthened enough to resist his own, powerful but irrational son, who acted upon impulse whenever he saw fit. Then he saw the truth with his own eyes, he was hurting her, he was cold and emotionless, led only by desire, while all this time, she treasured him above all materialistic desires, above Assassins and Templars, above her life.

"Stop!" He suddenly shouted, startling both Ann and Connor. His eyes were no longer emotionless, but showed great affection and desperation, his hands clenched into fists.

"Out of the way Ann," Connor said, ignoring his Father's request and lifted his hand in order to push her out-of-the-way. However just as he was about to – not even minding the womans injury – Haytham grabbed the young mans wrist with all the strength he had, stopping him half-way. Connor's eyes narrowed, still over-estimating himself, he found his strength unable to resist Haytham's firm grasp, unable to move. Haytham quickly side-stepped and moved in front of the woman, letting the Assassin go but pushing him backwards with his other palm at the same time. He stumbled and gasped, never finding his balance like he planned to, and falling to the dirt, just like he used to when he was young and foolish.

"Don't touch her!" Haytham's voice resounded while the woman on-looked the scene with disbelief in her already teary orbs. "You still know nothing, nothing at all Connor. You allow your feelings to cloud your vision, to the point were you're ready to kill an old man for mistakes he committed in his past. You must be truly foolish if you cannot accept the fact that there is still someone left who cares for me," he continued, his voice vicious. "I will not let Ann go, even if you kill me, she will continue loving me and you will never have her heart for yourself!"

Connor raised himself up and watched as Ann slowly stepped in front of the Templar, directing his eyes to her as she put her bloodied palm against his chest, attempting to calm him down. She had enough of quarrels and danger and revenge. She wanted peace and wanted Haytham to walk away from everything, unscathed. Connor got up, slowly. He had to let her go. But that meant letting his Father – everything he did and everything he had to pay for – go as well. Was he ready to take that risk?

"Haytham, don't strain yourself," Ann whispered to the man, her eyes suddenly threatening to spill with tears, the wound luckily wasn't that deep, but the pain that came with it wasn't helping the situation. Haytham noticed how she struggled and took hold of her hands, bringing her slightly closer and letting their fingers intertwine for support.

"You should be the one who takes care Ann, this is my fault, my aim was dreadful, I'm sorry," he replied and saw her lips turn into a soft smile.

"It's not..," she breathed out and began to feel weak, "it's not your fault." The man let one of her hands go in order to unbutton his jacket, expertly slipping it off and putting it on her instead. The thick fabric was incredibly warm and scented with his fragrance. She groaned as the jacket pressed against the cut, but relished the comfort of the warmth it provided. Haytham put his arm around her waist and brought her closer than before, her hand finding his shirt and pulling on it as she held on, her knees starting to give way. Her voice was quieter and quieter. "Haytham, please take... Take me home."

"Of course," he quickly nodded, "can you walk?"

"I don't know," she muttered, "Haytham... it hurts."

He felt the fear spread through his veins as he watched her suffer, he no longer wanted to be a selfish bastard, he no longer wanted to betray or take advantage of her. He wished he was the one targeted by Charles, he wished he was the one suffering. He leaned down and extended his arm in order to take hold of the back of her knees. Her skirt was short, so it was easy to lift her legs up. At the same time his hand found the small of her back and moved his arm in order to bring her closer to him and lift her up into the air, clashing the side of her body into his chest, her hands falling to rest on her stomach, weak and pale. Haytham looked up then, seeing Connor's eyes as they followed his Father's actions towards the woman.

"Are you blind? She's injured!" The Templar shouted, his son giving him a remorseful look in response. Haytham's eyes found Ann's as he gazed down and saw her smile fade, her eyes half-lidded as she fought to keep them open. "Ann... You'll be okay, I promise," his voice shifted to an unstressed and gentle one when he spoke to the woman. He turned around without another word and began to slowly trot forward.

"Wait!" Connor called out though, stopping the man in his tracks. Said man didn't look back, instead he paused his feet and stood there, staring at the path in front of him. The breeze settled onto his skin, cooling it, and he heard Ann's quiet and ragged breathing. He didn't have time for another shouting-match, he didn't have time for a fight to the death. Connor didn't have that in mind though, instead he whistled as loudly as he could. Haytham heard the clacking of hoofs and a breathy huff approaching him and turned around to see a fully saddled horse. "You'll get there faster on horse than by foot," Connor continued. He couldn't describe what he felt when he saw his Father being the one to hold and comfort Ann. It tugged at his heart, he was worried sick for the woman, he wanted to treat her wound and take her back with him... But there was something in the back of his mind that urged him to leave them be, that something told him he wasn't the one. It may have been Haytham's turn to taste kindness, it may have been his second chance. "I'm doing this for her, not you."

"I know," Haytham quickly echoed and used all the strength he had to raise the woman up and sit her in the saddle. She wasn't unconscious, there was no infection that would have caused a fever strong enough to knock her out, but she was very weak and shivered with a cold sweat when he held her in his arms. He reached for Ann's sword and duffel bag, putting it on the horse, and for his signature hat, putting it back on his head before hastily resting his boot on the stirrup and grabbing onto the leather, pulling himself up and onto the horse, behind the girl. At that moment he caught his son's watchful eyes and nodded his head, muttering under his breath, "thank you for letting me help her."

Connor was surprised at the words uttered by the man he always thought of as a tyrant. Intentionally, there was no specific tone in his voice, yet it lacked any hatred or scornfulness, which always seemed to be present in the man's voice... When they met for the first time in Valley Forge or worked together to eliminate Benjamin Church. Connor only nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line. Haytham pulled on the reins and the horse began to steadily gallop forward, staying on the path, as Connor finally let go.

I'll try to put the next chapter up tomorrow :D Please leave a review/fave/follow if you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you! ^^

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy