Hola ! Long time no see!

Yeah; I've been super busy and I just didn't have anytime for my baby-I'm starting to feel like Haytham Kenway! I'm kidding, I'm kidding-but in all seriousness, I've been busy and I just don't have a lot of time anymore.

But anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter-sorry it's so short and possibly boring-but anyways, enjoy!

Chapter Eleven: The Bobcat and the Bird

It had been seven months-seven months since Ziio had been murdered, and Haytham had made no progress on finding Charles Lee. He couldn't even find Thomas Hickey, who was more than always in a bar, drunk out of his mind and flirting with some poor unfortunate lady.

Haytham was mad; furious actually. Charles Lee shouldn't outsmart me! He thought to himself. Think Haytham, thin! You trained him for God's sake! Haytham growled in frustration and tugged at his hair.

He clenched his hands into fists. "God dammit!" he yelled, slamming his desk. "Where could he be?!" The new maid, Rowena Archer, barged in with a gurgling Connor on her hip, her eyes wide.

She huffed wildly. "Goodness gracious, Master Haytham! You're giving quite a tantrum up here!" She said, moving Connor up her hip. Connor reached out to Haytham. "Dada," he gurgled, waving his hands around. His brown eyes were pleading at Haytham and his black hair flailed loosely around, covering his face.

Reluctantly, Haytham reached out and took Connor from Rowena. He sighed. "I'm sorry Rowena-I just need some time to think." His thoughts traveled to Lee and Hickey.

Rowena nodded understandingly. "Why yes of course." She smiled. "It is little Connor's birthday today!" She tapped Connor on the nose softly and returned her gaze to Haytham. "So you do have a lot of planning to do. Perfectly understandable."

Birthday…? Haytham voiced silently. "Right yes," he muttered, rummaging through the mess of papers on his desk, looking for any sign that it was Connor's birthday. Haytham froze. "Um right. What day is it today?"

The maid frowned. "April 4th, Master Kenway." She looked at Haytham, thoroughly concerned. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Haytham nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm perfectly alright, I just need to send out some invitations for the birthday party." He sighed inwardly. He didn't have time for birthdays, but it was Connor's. Charles will have to wait…

. . . .

Haytham knocked on the large wooden door, anticipating the moments to come. The door creaked open, and Gaston Hill's face peered through the crack. "Hello?" he answered. Haytham stepped into the light and Gaston's eyes widened. "Haytham Kenway, is that you?" Gaston whispered, aghast.

The former Templar nodded. "Yes. I haven't seen you in quite some time." Haytham muttered. "Something came…up." His eyes drifted off towards the bushes of flowers planted nearby the door, which were in full bloom and a bright pink.

Gaston smiled. "Well, you'll have to tell me all about it, hmm?" He opened the door and beckoned Haytham to come inside. "Please, come in!"

Stepping inside, Haytham's jaw dropped in amazement. His house was magnificent, yes, but Gaston's was…it was grand; stately; ginormous; impressive-it was beautiful. Haytham's house was out of the picture-Gaston's was opulent; Haytham's was indigent in comparison.

Gaston smiled smugly, and soon was admiring the beauty of his house. "Grand, isn't it?" he asked Haytham, who was still in awe of the house. Gaston ran his left hand over the towering pillars which kept the house standing. They were a dark brown color and had intricate details etched into them.

Haytham nodded. "Yes-it is quite a house." Gaston chuckled. "House? It's more of a mansion. It's-" Gaston's booming voice faltered and he cleared his throat. "Well, what brings you here? And without Ziio at that!" He peered behind Haytham. "She isn't running late, is she?"

A memory of Ziio greeted Haytham, and it hurt like a painful jab to the stomach. It pained him to think of Ziio-to think of her deep brown eyes and her perfect jawline; the way her eyes brightened when she laughed, or when her hands ran across his back.

It hurt him more than anything else.

Haytham swallowed a cry of despair. "She's-" His voice cracked and Gaston's eyes furrowed in worry, as if he had said something wrong. Haytham ignored his friend and continued. Just tell him Haytham-don't be so soft. He breathed deeply. "Ziio is dead."

Gaston frowned. "What?" he asked and he cracked a nervous smile. "Don't kid with me Haytham!" He nudged Haytham with one elbow. "This is no laughing matter." Gaston chuckled but Haytham didn't crack a smile; he only stared.

Haytham looked at Gaston, careful not to show any emotion. "Do I kid often Gaston?" he asked in a low, deadly voice. The beer-bellied business man shook his head.

"No, but-" he started.

A finger shot up and Gaston was silent. Nodding, Haytham faced away from Gaston, who was thoroughly confused and hurt. "That's indeed correct." Haytham muttered. He turned around on the balls of his feet, facing Gaston once more. "I only come here for a favor-a simple one at that." He paced around the room slowly.

Haytham looked Gaston in the eyes. "It's Connor's birthday today, and I would like you to attend his birthday party." Haytham's expression gave off that this request was not to be denied, and Gaston didn't deny it.

Gaston nodded quickly. "Well, of course I'll come!" Gaston bellowed. "I'll be there."

The business man was nervous, like when a bird knew it was being hunted; Haytham was the bobcat, and Gaston was the bird.

Silence filled the room, and the pair stood, not daring to make any movement. Haytham broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad that's settled- see you at eight!" Gaston nodded as he watched Haytham leave.

"See you at eight..."