Hey everyone! To all the people that have reviewed, and liked this story, thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Shaun Hastings looked up from the stack of homework that he had piled in front of him. His classes were finally coming to an end, but that didn't mean he was done. His new position at the museum had him busy most days. Tracking down information about a certain piece, helping the older curators find new places for borrowed pieces, and making sure all the information was correct. It was a daunting task, but one he enjoyed.

Grabbing a particular book, he rubbed the orbs that laid under his glasses, trying to rid them of the grit from lack of sleep. It was going on two in the morning, and he had to be at work at eight. Then once he was done there, it was back home for a quick shower, a quick bite of some type of food, and onto his last class before the small break between summer and fall. That would be his last semester, and as much as he enjoyed his professors, he would be thankful for the end.

Slumping onto the couch, the weariness washed over him, and Shaun tried his damnedest to suppress the yawn that clawed at the back of his throat. He really needed a vacation, but his job did not allow such luxuries at that time. He had papers to fill out, signs to address, and that was the last thing that crossed his mind as his tired mind slipped into the comfortable black that was sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been out of it for, but something prodded at his foot, making him curl up into a ball, mumbling incoherently at the person daring to disturb his rest. The prodding continued, and with an irritated snap, he called out. "Bloody hell! Does one not get any rest in this damn place?"

"And if you continued with that, you're gonna sleep through work." His sleep addled mind registered the words slowly, but once he caught on, he opened his eyes to see Connor Kenway standing there, arms crossed over an impressively wide chest.

Medium brown eyes met bloodshot blue as Shaun finally came back to the land of the living. "What time is it?" he asked, yawning into the back of his hand as he sat up, scratching the top of his head.

"Six forty five. You were supposed to meet me down stairs like fifteen minutes ago." The larger man took a seat on the chair near him, eyes watching.

"Shit." He scrubbed his eyes once more. There was not enough hours in the day for everything he had to do. Then something occurred to him. "How did you get in here? You don't have a key and I know I locked the door."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You have shitty locks. Really easy to pick if you know what you're doing."

Shaun sat there and blinked dumbly for a minute, then asked. "How the hell do you know how to pick locks?"

He could see the man's chest rumble in a quiet laugh. "I would get bored when I was home alone, a lot."

Connor's father, Haytham, was one of the curators of the museum, and much like Shaun, he immersed himself in his work. There were times that he lost himself for days on a new exhibit, completely ignoring his home life. Connor had told him that's why his mother had filed for divorce early in the marriage, and moved back to her hometown with him. Ziio had been killed in a fire when Connor was about eight. Shaun knew his friend's history, just like Connor knew Shaun's.

Yawning once more, Shaun stood, stretched, and groaned as his body protested to the movements. It was going to be another one of those days, he could already tell.

After a five minute shower, fresh clothes, and a granola bar, Shaun followed Connor down the hall, steaming coffee mug in each of their hands, they made it to the Ram that was parked on the curb. Shaun had a run in with an unfortunate deer three weeks before when he was, ironically, going to get Rebecca, who had also hit a critter. Her car only had a flat. His Focus had been trashed beyond repair. So, until such a time that he could actually find the time to get a car, he had been riding in with Connor.

"You do know you spend more in gas than what it's worth to drive this, correct?" The red head pushed his glasses up higher onto the bridge of his nose.

"You wanna walk?" His dark brow rose, and Shaun quickly shook his head. "Then don't say anything about my truck."

The blacked out Ram was a nice truck, and the guy kept it in good shape. The only thing he disliked about the whole thing was the height. Standing at only 5'10", it was a pain in the ass to get into the raised cab. Connor, who topped out at like 6'3" had no problems getting into the thing. Sometimes he was envious of all his taller friends.

The ride to the museum was done in silence as Shaun took the time to fully wake up and drink the black morning brew. Haytham was standing by the bay door when they arrived, clipboard in hand, writing something down as Caleb waved them through the back gate.

The older Kenway looked in their direction as they walked over to the loading dock, his lips pulled thin, and his steely blue eyes cutting into them. "You're late." Was all he said as he looked back into the truck, his frown getting worse as he observed something.

"It was my fault. I overslept." Shaun knew better than to be nothing but truthful with the man. He seemed be able to tell when someone was trying to bullshit him.

Giving a curt nod, he spoke. "See that it doesn't happen again." And that was that.

Connor grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, and began to drag him into the bowels of the building. Behind the scenes where no one, save for the guards and workers ever got to see. "I think we should steer clear of him today. He's been in a foul mood since yesterday night when Lee called. Something about a project coming in from Chicago." The man spit Lee's name out like a bad taste.

He knew the history behind them. Charles Lee had always been Haytham's right hand man, and when Connor ended up moving in with his father after his mother had died, Lee had slipped, or on purpose, calling Connor a mongrel, a half breed. Haytham hadn't taken kindly to it, chewing Lee up one side and down the other, but still kept the man on as his assistant. There were always rumors that Lee was gay, and lusted after Haytham. Strangely, Shaun could believe that.

"Steer clear of Poppy dearest, and bash Lee upside the head with that Pompeii vase that is still half covered in hard lava. Got it." Both of them, not being able to help it, began to snicker just out of earshot of the elder Kenway.

Time always flew when he worked on a new project, and today was no different. Studying the ancient tome, he could barely decipher what it was, or even what language. The patterns in the speech told him it was Middle Eastern, but the language escaped him.

"Do you ever do anything besides read?"

Looking up from his work, he saw Altair standing there, fingers laced through the belt loops on his pants, damn near golden eyes scanning the page. His expression told of one of indifference, but he had known the man for going on two years now, and knew the tanned man had a sharp mind, but even sharper tongue.

"You know, if you did it sometime you would understand the draw to it. Can you even read?" He quipped, but knew that the man could.

Shrugging, he turned to walk away, but before he walked from the room to do it rounds, he spoke. "Your book there. It's Arabic. Old as shit, but still Arabic. They were talking about the Hashashin." And he slipped out the door, leaving Shaun sitting there, completely in shock over what he had just heard.

Finally getting over his udder disbelief that the security guard could read it, he ran after him. "Hey!" Altair stopped and looked at him. Poker face as usual. "How the hell did you know that?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighed heavily. "My dad traveled the world when I was a kid. Took me with him a few times. He speaks fluent Arabic, and my great grandparents came from Syria. Taught me while I was growing up." He looked down at his watch. "Look, I gotta go relieve Seth at the monitors. See ya." And he walked off without as much as a backwards glance.

Mumbling under his breath about the man not being a complete idiot, he walked back to the room he had been occupying, and sat back at the book. Its pages brittle, and some of the words were hard to read, but after looking at it for a time, he began to understand. Not much, because he was no linguistics expert, but with some time and patience, he might be able to decipher it.

I thought I would share everyone's ages. I keep forgetting to do that.

Desmond, Connor, Ezio, Leonardo-25

Shaun, Malik, Altair, Edward-27

Isabella, Rebecca, Sofia-24

Lucy, Seth, Maria-26

Alanna, Kadar-23

Connor and Edward, instead of being grandson/grandfather, they are cousins. I just can't write him as an old guy. Sorry!