Notes: This is completely irrelevant, but did anyone else notice that Mary Read and Shay have almost the same scar on their face?

Chapter 8: Good to Know

Haytham had known something was wrong with Shay as soon as they set foot on the shore. He was jumpy, nervous and honestly just seemed to be completely traumatized. ...Which, needless to say, was utterly out of character. He also knew that from the way Shay tried to steel himself after seeing the first broken body, that he should probably tell him to wait. He'd seen this before with soldiers, when he'd worked alongside Braddock during and after the siege of Fort Bergen Op Zoom. Certain things could trigger memories of traumatic experiences and they'd fall into a state of shock that it was never easy to pull them out of. Well, assuming he'd gotten to the poor bastards before Braddock, who had about as much patience as a starving lion with a steak dangling in front of its nose. ...But what was it about this place that was getting to Shay? Dead bodies alone wouldn't do this to him.

Haytham had outright panicked when Shay nearly passed out, babbling something about a child he had to save. It wasn't until he saw the guardsmen crushed under the fallen wall that the pieces fell into place. The level of destruction, the placement of the bodies... It reminded him of Lisbon, which had been a horrid enough affair that it lead to Shay questioning everything he'd believed in. Surely, it left him with a few scars besides the visible ones. Regardless, seeing Shay fall apart like that had been unnerving at best, but Haytham had seen worse. Besides, what was he going to do? Leave him there? Never.

He watched Shay like a hawk as he drew the red satin duvet tighter around his shoulders. He'd calmed down considerably once Haytham had gotten him into the captain's cabin. Luckily, the crew seemed to have bought the story about him falling on some ice. He'd also barked orders at them to set a course for New York, and could feel the Morrigan begin to move away from the shore. Shay looked up then. The longing and pain Haytham saw in his eyes was overwhelming. For a moment, he wondered if Shay would stab him with something if he touched him. Really, he just wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. Playing the cold-hearted killer was a thousand times easier than compassion for Haytham.

"Can I ask you somethin', Sir?" Shay finally spoke, giving Haytham an odd sort of stare.

"Certainly." Haytham replied, glad to see him finally in an apparently stable condition.

"When I told you that Liam was my lover, did that change anythin'?" Shay inquired, looking away. Haytham raised his eyebrows. Where was he going with this? What did it matter? He'd seen far worse with what had happened to Jenny and Jim Holden. What was it to Haytham if Shay's tastes were a little deviant? It wasn't like he or Liam had been forced against their will, or hurt anyone because of what they shared.

"Change anything? No. It put a few things in their proper context, certainly. But I do not see why it should change anything." Haytham replied, looking out the window at Fort Baie Rouge slowly vanishing in the distance.

"And you don't see anythin'... Wrong with it?" Shay pressed, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders so he could remove his coat that was wet from falling in the snow. Haytham watched him silently, starting to get a sense of what Shay was really trying to ask. And how did he feel about that exactly? He chose his words carefully.

"Not especially," Haytham told him with a shrug. "I do not see how any harm could come of it. There are far worse things in the world." The silence that followed was palpable, but companionable. He'd finally gotten somewhere with Shay, that much was obvious. He was less evasive, and Haytham suspected that may have been half the reason Shay went ashore with him. Perhaps he felt safe with Haytham. Maybe the whole reason he'd even asked Haytham to come was because he already knew what had befallen the fort, and doubted he could handle dealing with it alone. Actually, that was looking more and more like a viable theory.

"That's good t'know." Shay said quietly after a while. Was it, now? Haytham had no idea how to feel about that, really. To him, such feelings were an alien thing. Even sex he'd really only ever used to gain an advantage in a few schemes in the past, or just because he needed a good romp every now and again - like any other man. Ziio was different, of course. But even then, it fell apart. He'd like to blame Charles for that, really he would, but deep down Haytham knew it was his own damn fault. He stole a glance at Shay who seemed to be intently studying the pattern embroidered into his blanket. ...Anything to avoid to meeting Haytham's eyes. He wondered if letting Shay come along had done more damage than good.

"I'll be alright," Shay said after a while. "Why don't you make sure Mills doesn't think we're doin' somethin' untoward." Haytham scoffed, but took the opportunity to escape for what it was.

Back outside he took a deep breath of the icy air, hoping it might clear his head. Absently he bade Mills to return to his post in the crow's nest and took the Morrigan's wheel. He wondered if it was in his blood, how he quickly he'd learned how to maneuver the ship. It felt like second nature to him – as simple as breathing. Regardless, it was relaxing and carefully steering Shay's beloved Morrigan around the mess of ice burgs took his attention away from his thoughts of her captain. Haytham would never admit it, but above all else, he was scared. If there was one thing he didn't understand, it was human affection – laughable though it might sound. He wanted to help Shay as he was a valuable asset to the Templar Order that he could not afford to lose, nothing more. But now... Now it was more than that.

"Master Kenway?" Haytham grunted noncommittally and didn't even look at Martin who was acting as the First Mate. "I asked if you thought we should stop in Halifax on the way back? We're runnin' low on provisions."

"I suppose that would be prudent." Haytham replied, not even really thinking about it. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so distracted. He doubted he ever had been. His upbringing by both his father and Reginald had never allowed him to lose sight of his path. He questioned everything, and analyzed it until he understood it in his own way. There was an order and purpose to everything he did, a method behind the madness. But he just could not for the life of him make sense of the sudden affection he felt for Shay. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. ...It probably wasn't even sudden. It had likely been stalking him from behind for some time, and tackled him when he least suspected it.

Shay didn't leave his cabin for three days, only emerging for food and other necessities. Haytham piloted the Morrigan, and Mills took over for him when he stole a few hours of fitful sleep in between. Near noon on the fourth day, Haytham had decided he was tired of Shay's childish shite. He gripped the Morrigan's wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, and it was a wonder he hadn't ground his teeth to dust. The very second he was about to hand her over to Mills and kick down the door to Shay's cabin, he finally decided to grace the crew with his presence.

"Where are we?" Shay asked sheepishly, coming up to stand behind Haytham.

"About a day to Halifax. We shall be stopping to resupply." Haytham snapped, immediately regretting the steel in his tone.

"How's your leg, Cap'n?" Martin called, giving Shay a familiar smile.

"My leg? Oh it... Fine." Shay mumbled and stood beside Haytham, resting his hands on the railing in front of him. Haytham ignored him, and steered the Morrigan around a nasty chunk of rock sticking out of the ocean. Shay made a face and grabbed onto the rail to keep his footing when the ship tilted a bit too far to the side. Some of the crewmen snickered to themselves, one of them commenting about posh British gits and their need to overcompensate.

"Apologies." Haytham said with a bit of a wince. Shay laughed quietly and shook his head.

"It takes practice, more'n you've had yet anyway. Don't worry about it so much, Sir." Shay said, giving him a warm smile. ...And that was all it took to cool the mindless anger that had been welling up inside of him over the past three days. A smile. He wanted to stab something for the irony of it all. "D'you want me to take the wheel? You've got t'sleep sometime."

Haytham sighed, and moved aside to let Shay take his usual place at the helm. He didn't leave, though. He just took up his post as First Mate and shooed Martin away, barking Shay's orders to switch to full sail. Shay didn't comment, he just gave Haytham an odd look and stared straight ahead at the open sea. They'd be able to see Halifax's coast soon, maybe even reach it before nightfall tomorrow with a little luck. He watched Shay out of the corner of his eye. He seemed calmer than he had been before they left New York. Perhaps the journey hadn't been a waste, after all.

"What'll we do when get home?" Shay asked, breaking the companionable silence.

"Right now there is not much on our plate, unless something came up while we were away. But with the French defeated, we have some good opportunities to work our way into solid standing within the political system. Well, that is mine and the others' line of work, anyway. I'm sure I will find some task to put you to." Haytham replied, watching a gull circling overhead. Good, that meant they were close to land.

"Aye, I'm sure you will." Shay said with a smirk. "I vote for makin' Charles scrub out the jakes, though." He added with a chuckle.

"Hire a bloody maid. Charles isn't your cleaning lady." Haytham grumbled in mock annoyance.

"Thank God for that, I'd hate t'see him in a maid's outfit." Shay retorted, and both of them burst into helpless laughter. Somehow, Haytham knew he'd knew remember that afternoon for years to come. It was the first time in his life that he'd ever felt truly at ease, without having to wear a metaphorical mask to keep those around him at an arm's length. Still, he had to question everything he thought he knew. ...Because why did it feel so right to laugh and joke with Shay when it was in his nature to scoff at such behavior? What was it about being with Shay that brought out both the best and worst in him?

Jakes – outhouse/privy