There's a part of Haytham that knows he should be worried about this. That normal people would be worried about suddenly switching bodies with their son. But it's only a small part of him, and the rest of his mind is far more interested in Connor.
He's angry, more angry than he can remember being in a very long time. Possibly ever. Part of it is his own, leftover from frustration that the assassins couldn't help him find his father, and disappointment that he couldn't work things out with Connor. Apparently he's as bad a father as he is a son.
But that's only part of the anger. Connor's mind is out of his own body, transferred to Haytham's. But there are still traces of him left in his body. Instincts. Certain ways of moving. Feelings. And every time he looks at- at himself- the rage just comes roaring up, joining with his own anger, catching him up and carrying him along for the ride. It crowds out all rational thought, forcing his focus onto the fight, and only the fight.
His attention is so single minded, he doesn't even realize anyone else is there until someone slams into him from behind, knocking him off his feet. For a second, he struggles, but he's completely pinned down, and he's been fighting for a while. There's at least one bone broken, and he's covered in blood and bruises.
He squints up through a swollen eye and recognizes Desmond just as he leans down and punches Haytham in the face. "That's for being an idiot," Desmond says, kicking his weapons away. "Seriously, Con- shit, Haytham- what are you doing? You're going to kill yourself? Is that the plan?"
"No!" Haytham tries to shove Desmond away, but he's obviously expecting it and doesn't budge. "Get off."
"Not going to happen," Desmond says. "You're completely out of control- and I worked at a bar for years. I've seen a lot of stupid fights. Yours might just be the stupidest of them all."
"It's none of your business," Haytham snarls. "This is about family."
"I know," Desmond says. He leans close and speaks clearly, as if to an especially stupid child. "Guess what? We're family. If sharing a head with someone doesn't make you family, then I don't think anything does."
Haytham finally manages to shove Desmond off him, but he doesn't move farther than to sit up and glare at him. "Maybe you haven't noticed," he says. "But having a family hasn't worked out too well for me."
"Alright," Desmond says, and glances off to the left; when Haytham follows his gaze, he sees Altair struggling with Connor. He can't watch that for more than a few seconds before his brain starts to hurt, though, and he quickly turns away from the sight of his own body. "Maybe you have a point about that," Desmond goes on. "I mean, most people don't have problems like this. But that doesn't mean you give up and try to stab a blade into your own face, alright?" He shakes his head. "You have some serious problems."
There's really no way to argue with that, but at the same, there's clearly no way to go forward from here without some kind of resolution. He walked into Fort George earlier that day, expecting to either kill Connor or be killed himself. There's no way either of them is walking out without some kind of final outcome.
Altair walks up to Desmond and says something quietly to him. While neither of them is paying him any attention, Haytham finds his attention wandering back over to Connor. His son is staring back at him from behind his own face, and- for a while at least- they're both calm enough to examine each other in silence. It's strange enough to be looking at himself from the outside, Haytham decides, but it's even worse knowing there's someone in there, and that it isn't him.
"Okay," Desmond announces. "Here's how this is going to work. First, both of you are going to calm down."
"I am calm," Connor says.
"And you're going to stay calm until we figure out how to fix this," Desmond goes on, ignoring him.
"What do you mean, 'figure out'?" Haytham asks. "Won't it just undo itself after a while?"
"It should," Altair says.
"But this is the first time anyone's actually switched bodies," Desmond finishes. "We've had people sharing bodies, obviously, stealing bodies-"
"You were in a coma," Altair mutters.
"Even a weird body rotation thing, once," Desmond says. "But I'm pretty sure that had something to do with me being in a coma. Anyway-" he coughs and turns a little red. "And I mean obviously it's just random chance, and it's not like it's because of someone using an apple the wrong way."
"So what you're saying is, this is your fault," says Connor. He still sounds upset, but he's not out of control angry anymore.
"Maybe," says Desmond.
"And you're also saying that you don't know if we're getting back to normal," Haytham adds.
Desmond turns a brighter shade of red, and says, "I'll work on it. Just... try not to kill each other before this gets fixed, alright? Do you think you can do that?"
"You don't have to treat us like children," Connor says.
"Then stop acting like brats," Altair snaps at him, and Connor recoils as if he's been slapped in the face. "Both of you are more intelligent than this. So figure out how to work this until we get it fixed." And without another word, he walks off, followed a few seconds later by Desmond.
Haytham gets up slowly, testing every joint to make sure nothing's been hurt too badly to use. He's also playing for time, trying to avoid looking at Connor for as long as possible. But eventually he runs out of ways to stall, and has to look up.
Connor's watching him, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed. "So what happens now?" he asks.
"I don't know," Haytham says. "That's up to you. Are you going to be difficult?"
"Am I-" Connor gives him a look. "Am I going to be difficult? You tried to kill me."
"I think it was mutual," Haytham says. "I'm willing to-"
"I'm not talking about what just happened," Connor says. "I'm talking about twenty years ago. You ordered my village burned to the ground. You could have killed me, my mother, and everyone else there!"
"I could have," Haytham agrees. "If I'd ever ordered anything like that."
"You-" Connor's expression goes through something complicated that Haytham didn't even know his face was capable of. "You didn't."
"I don't even know what you're talking about," Haytham says.
"It was your men I saw that day," Connor says. "Trust me. I remember."
Haytham shrugs. "Well, believe it or not, they don't always do exactly as I tell them to."
For several seconds, Connor says nothing. Then he nods, just once. "Alright." His voice is cautious. "What do we do?"
Cautious isn't great, but it's better than angry. "We need to go somewhere safe," he says. "I don't want anything to do with your assassins, and I don't want you near my templars. I don't think any of them would make it out alive."
"I agree," Connor says. "And... I think I have an idea." He doesn't look Haytham in the eye as he says it, focusing on something just over his shoulder instead. "It's... not a good idea," he admits. "And five minutes ago I wouldn't have suggested it..."
"I've never heard you so reluctant to get to the point," Haytham says. "Where do you want to go?"
"My village," Connor says. "No templars, no assassins. But-" and now he is looking Haytham straight in the eye, and it's clear that he is absolutely serious. "If you put any of those people in danger by being there, or if I find out you were lying about that fire, I will kill you. I don't care whose body you're in."
Haytham hesitates, but right now he really has no choice. There's nowhere else he can think of that's out of the way enough to keep anyone from finding them, but close enough to get too quickly. He still has doubts, though. "Aren't there people there that know you?" he asks. "They won't believe I'm you, and I don't wan to explain all this."
"I haven't been back there much recently," Connor admits. "I've been busy. There's only one person that might notice something's wrong."
He starts to walk off, and Haytham follows. "Who's that?" he asks.
"My mother," Connor says, without looking at him.
Haytham stops in his tracks. Ziio. Of course.
This is going to be even worse than he had imagined.
-/-
So... this chapter was fun to write. And also awful, because it didn't turn out how I wanted at all. Too many emotions. Bleh.
3/1/14 Edit- minor fact corrections, because I'm OCD, and because this story is getting convoluted and lengthy enough that I can't remember everything that's happened anymore.