Notes: Please comment! I'd really like some feedback on this story! It's kind of an ambitious project for me!. :3

Chapter 5: Drowning

Shay paced the boarding house room restlessly after Haytham left the way he'd come – through the window. He didn't know why he asked him to come with him to reclaim the fort, the comment about Gist had been nothing but noise. In truth, he just wanted Haytham there with him. He was a wreck on a good day, but his fear of disappointing Haytham was the one thing keeping him in line. Shay simply seemed to be able to think more clearly when he was with the Grandmaster. Maybe it was because he knew the truth of his ties to Liam, and how difficult it really was for him to hunt the brotherhood down. Gist knew some of it, but not the depths of what he'd felt for Liam. Haytham didn't know that either, really.

Knowing that he was at least alive was enough for Shay after he left the homestead, but that wasn't the case any longer. The only thing that gave him solace was the fact that Liam died from injuries he'd sustained when he fell during the quake, and not from anything Shay had done. That may have been a blessing in itself, because Shay knew he'd never be able to turn his blade on Liam.

Shay shook his head and slammed the open window shut, making sure to slide the lock into place. He'd never really thought of ever trying to move on, to find someone else – a woman to marry maybe. No one ever made him feel the way Liam did – no, that wasn't true. He just didn't like thinking about it, or the fact that a pathetic desire just to be in Haytham's company was what really prompted him to ask the Grandmaster to come along with him to the North Atlantic. There was nothing romantic there, though. The mere notion of that would be laughable at best. Still, he knew the others were concerned for him, yet Haytham was the only one actually trying to help. That, Shay had to admit, was the last thing he'd ever expected. Haytham was cold, unsociable and not the easiest person to approach by any means. Yet, he'd gone out of his way to look out for Shay's well-being.

Miserably, Shay threw himself onto the bed. He'd need to get some rest if he was going to sea in the morning.

Good as his word, Haytham was waiting near the harbor master's when Shay arrived at the waterfront. He nodded his head in greeting as Shay approached carrying a pile of maps and his spyglass. Haytham didn't look like he'd slept any better than Shay had, but neither of them made a comment. Shay gestured toward the Morrigan that was docked nearby and Haytham followed without a word.

"What did you tell them?" Shay asked as he waved to Mills who was waiting on the docks beside the Morrigan.

"That you and I are making a trip to Boston to track down a possible lead on the precursor box." Haytham answered smoothly. "Gist was rather put out that he was not invited, but I gave him enough work to keep him too busy to remember his own name."

"I suppose that'll do." Shay replied and leaped the gap between the dock and the Morrigan's deck with ease. Haytham followed and took his place on the upper deck beside Shay.

"All right boys, let's get movin'!" Shay ordered after handing the maps to Mills. He felt marginally better to be leaving New York behind for a while. Maybe they actually would go to Boston afterward. He had no new leads and Haytham knew it, but it wouldn't hurt to pick up some goods for trade. The Order didn't run itself on good intentions, after all.

Most of the day passed in silence between Haytham and Shay. Both of them occasionally sang along with the crew's shanties, but they hadn't really spoken to each other since leaving. It didn't bother Shay much. It was perfect sailing weather, a little cloudy with a good, strong wind. He took a deep breath of the salt air, letting it calm his nerves. In spite of his father's death, and all the difficulties his ship had faced, Shay was never afraid of the open sea. Rather, he felt at home.

"You should get some rest, Shay. I can take the tiller if you want." Haytham said to Shay, who blinked and yawned loudly. He hadn't even realized he was falling asleep where he stood until Haytham's words snapped him out of his trance. He nodded, and let go of the wheel. Haytham knew quite a lot about sailing, though it had been Shay who taught him the the actual mechanics of it during their last trip. He wasn't worried about leaving the Morrigan in his care; there was nothing but open sea for the next week and the crew would keep the bearings for him.

Shay struggled to stay on his feet as the ground buckled and shook beneath him. The sound of a woman screaming her child's name and begging God to save him made something snap in Shay's chest. He panted raggedly, scaling a wall that was already leaning toward the ground. Shear force of will kept him moving as he vaulted from a windowpane onto the crumbling clay roof tiles of another building. Keep moving forward, he told himself as he braced for the impact of a falling watchtower that crushed the row of buildings in front of him. Catching his breath, Shay pressed onward. Flames licked at his clothes as he leaped across an expanse of burning debris. He could see the harbor now. Only a little further...

Scaffolding collapsed in front of him,blocking his way to the docks. Cursing, and running on pure adrenaline, Shay strafed hard to the right to avoid it and darted down a side street. He leaped over the wreckage of a home and skidded to a halt in front of another pile of burning timber. The dead eyes of a young man looked up at him, almost accusingly. Then, the panic started to set it.

He kept running; it was all he could do. Shay flew up a set of marble stairs as they cracked and turned to dust under his feet. He slid along the ground to keep from being crushed by a falling wall, and stumbled to his feet just in time to climb the side of a still intact general store. Tearing across the rooftops, he threw himself in the shattered window of a watchtower near the harbor. The force of yet another tremor sent him flying across the room and straight through the window on the other side. The glass splintered into half a million pieces as Shay fell and hit the water hard.

The impact forced the air from his lungs as he fought to get control of his limbs. The choppy waves tossed him about like a piece of driftwood as he fruitlessly kicked trying to reach the surface. He could see the sunlight dancing on the water, but it felt like something was pulling him down. His lungs burned with the need for air and his vision went hazy. But just before it all faded to black, something grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the surface. Desperately, Shay clung to the side of the little wooden rowboat, gasping for breath as his rescuer pulled him up by his shoulders. He could swear that his heart stopped when he saw Haytham Kenway dripping wet, sans his hat and cape.

Shay came awake on the floor of his cabin on board the Morrigan with a pained gasp. His heart pounded in his chest. He gathered his wits and crawled into his chair near the desk. He poured himself half a tankard of strong whiskey and knocked it back like water, just as the door to the cabin opened. He blinked in confusion, and frowned when he saw Haytham standing there.

"Shay? Is everything all right?" He asked.

"Nightmare." Shay grumbled, hiding his face in his hands.

"Odd, you were calling my name." Haytham replied. Shay wished he could simply crawl into a hole and die. Calling his name? That was a new low, one he'd rather pretend never happened.

"I don't recall that." Shay said shakily, knowing Haytham could see right through the thinly veiled lie. Haytham pulled the door shut behind him and seated himself in the chair in front of the desk. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He was waiting for a proper explanation, and Shay knew he wouldn't leave until he had it. He swallowed, but his throat was as dry as old parchment and he coughed instead. Wordlessly, Shay poured himself more whiskey and downed it.

"Lisbon." He choked out. "I was drownin' and... You pulled me out o' the water just before..." He shook his head hopelessly. That was as good of recount as Haytham was going to get, like it or not. In the silence that followed, Shay wondered if the dream had been symbolic rather than his usual nightmares. In a sense, it fit. Haytham was trying to drag him out of the abyss. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The thought calmed him considerably.

"I see... How often do you have these nightmares?" Haytham asked, but even Shay knew that Haytham was aware of the answer and just saying anything that came to mind to fill the silence.

"A better question might be 'when don't I have them?'" Shay answered glumly, and something in Haytham's stormy grey eyes made him wonder what it was Haytham actually saw in him. Why was he going to these lengths to try and save him from himself? His priorities should be to the order, not sailing to Fort Baie Rouge on what Shay was sure Haytham knew was just a whim.

Shay leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and hiding his face in his hands. It was pathetic, and he'd admit it over his dead body, but he'd give anything not to have to sleep alone. The hardest thing after leaving the Assassins was waking up to an empty bed, without Liam beside him. The other Assassin had been a trusted confidant and so, so much more than that. That was what he needed now, more than anything, but he had no one like that. Haytham was dangerously close to it, and that unsettled Shay a bit. When had the Grandmaster, who had never been anything but cold and calculating, become the person Shay wanted to run to? Yet at the same time, the last thing he wanted Haytham to see was this consuming weakness.

"Shay? Are you well?"

"Depends on the definition." He replied, sounding broken. Vacantly, he wondered how Haytham would react if he asked him to hold him as Liam had years ago. The mental image almost made him crack a smile, if only because Haytham was sure to think he was joking. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice Haytham get up and stand beside him until he lightly rested one of his hands on Shay's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Where did that come from, Shay wondered. Haytham had zero patience for whining. So, again, why was he putting up with Shay's melodrama? Regardless, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm sorry for all this. It feels like I'm findin' fault with a fat goose. I need to move on, but I can't let go." Shay replied, without looking up. He felt dangerously close to crying, and that was the last thing he wanted Haytham to see.

"You are only human, Shay."

"Please leave me alone for a while." He managed to say in a reasonably even tone.

"No," Haytham said firmly. "You need to face this. If you keep running, it only gets worse. Trust me, I know. Whatever it is you are not telling me -"

"It wouldn't make a difference, it's not somethin' you can fix!" Shay growled.

"Let me be the judge of that." Haytham said, still clearly refusing to leave.

"I just hope you don't think any less o' me..." Shay mumbled and hid his face in his hands.

Finding fault with a fat goose – whining, basically. Pointless complaining for attention, that sort of thing.