Notes: This chapter is basically porn and angst. Bring tissues... For multiple uses, lol. Kill me.

Chapter 17: Scars

Shay watched Haytham go, with a puzzled look on his face. He'd gotten some answers, yes, but it only left him with even more questions than he had before. He knew next to nothing about Haytham's past, and now that he had a few bits and pieces of it to fit together, it was obvious that Haytham was just as broken as he was – if not more. He hadn't known that he had a sister, or of the fate of his family. Gist had mentioned that Haytham's father had been an Assassin, and that had been the extent of either of their knowledge. But lies and betrayal? It seemed like they were bitter old friends to Haytham, just as they were to Shay. He got up from the chair and wandered out into the foyer. He was dead tired, and his body protested the thought of doing anything, but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. He'd be alone anyway, that was a given. Haytham had obviously been struggling with some memory and chose to flee rather than allow Shay to see him fall apart.

Grudgingly, Shay made his way upstairs. However, the room wasn't empty as he'd expected it to be. Haytham was outside on the balcony, looking up at the stars. Shay decided to leave him be and wandered into the washroom. He was filthy and still stank of the tunnels. It felt like hours by the time he was finally clean and returned to the room. Haytham was sitting on the bed then, writing in his journal. His expression seemed far away, and he spared Shay no mind as he sat beside him and looked over his shoulder at the page in the journal. Haytham snapped it shut before he could read a single word.

"The way I see it," Shay whispered in his ear, "You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can try to talk it out. ...Or we could just have sex and you can try to forget about it until you are ready to talk about it. Your choice, boss."

"Option three it is." Haytham conceded and let Shay take him in a soft kiss. There was nothing rushed or desperate about it that night, and Shay took his sweet time divesting Haytham of his clothes – that would most certainly not be strewn through the hall. Haytham didn't let him have the upper hand for long, though. Shay mumbled a string of indignant swearing as Haytham nipped at a sensitive spot on his throat and shoved him down hard against the bed. He liked it though, letting Haytham take the reigns. He knew he could be gentle if he wanted to, but both of them obviously preferred it a little rough.

Shay sucked in a startled breath as Haytham left a series of hot kisses across his chest and nudged his knee into his groin. He arched himself against Haytham and rested his hands on his hips, his left hand brushing over the large scar on Haytham's side. He'd noticed it last time, too and had forgotten to ask what the hell had apparently tried to eat him. His thoughts came to a skidding halt as Haytham sucked at one of his nipples and he pinched the other one between his thumb and forefinger. For someone who'd never been with a man before, he certainly didn't have any reservations about diving in head-first, Shay had to give him that.

He'd forgotten how good it felt, really. To just let go, even for just a little while. It wasn't escapism if it was with Haytham, or so Shay reasoned. If letting the man drown his misery in sex actually helped, then Shay was glad to be of some assistance. If nothing else, maybe he'd actually be willing to talk about what was troubling him afterward. Shay moaned and squirmed in Haytham's grip, as he nibbled at the skin near his navel and blew a puff of hot air across the tip of his cock that was already throbbing with need.

"So noisy, Shay..." Haytham chastised him and pulled his fingers from his thoroughly disheveled hair. Shay twisted them into the sheets instead, finding that he needed something – anything – solid to hang onto as he felt an oil slicked finger prod at his entrance – much more carefully than the last time. Not that he even cared, as his brain completely short circuited when Haytham chose that moment to grip his cock tightly in his hand. If he were even slightly conscious of his surroundings, Shay might have been horribly embarrassed by the broken moaning that escaped him as Haytham worked. He was a writhing, panting mess about two skips from his breaking point when Haytham settled himself into position between Shay's legs.

"Ready?" Haytham asked in a husky whisper and kissed him hard.

"Aye. Get on with it, then." Shay replied, resting his hands on Haytham's hips and wondering how in God's name he'd managed to form a proper sentence while his entire body was crying out with need.

"Manners, Shay." Haytham said flatly, and gave him a glare that was equal parts stern and playful. Shay just stared up at him dumbly.

"...Please?" He mumbled, and sucked in a sharp breath as Haytham nipped at the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"Please, what?" Haytham pressed, sliding his hand along Shay's thigh and stopping just as his fingers brushed the nest of soft black curls at the base of his cock. He bucked his hips involuntarily, desperate for any kind of friction, but Haytham held him down firmly.

"Take me. Goddammit, Haytham! Please." Shay whined, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

"That will have to do for now..." Haytham said with a shake of his head and slid inside of Shay. Shay sighed in bliss and let his eyes slide closed as Haytham began to move, slowly at first. He had one hand twisted into the sheets, near to tearing. The other was resting lightly on Haytham's hips, just below the gnarly scar on his side. Haytham shifted his position slightly and pried Shay's fingers from the sheets. "Relax," He breathed in Shay's ear as he continued at a slow, yet steady pace. Shay did relax, moving in unison with Haytham as he began take him with a bit more force.

"Mm... Faster." Shay mumbled, fully aware that the only reason he wasn't a boneless mess was because of the fact that Haytham was holding him in place.

"Shh. No. I want to do this right this time." Haytham breathed, the words slurred slightly as he fought the urge to comply. Shay arched his back and mewled like a cat in heat as Haytham repeatedly angled himself right for his prostate. He certainly learned a few things since the other day, Shay thought vacantly. But then again, Haytham was nothing if not efficient. Surely mastering the art of bedding a man would be no different than anything else in that respect. Shay lost track of time, aware of nothing but the sound of Haytham's ragged breathing, his breath hot on his bare skin. Everything seemed to just slip away into the abyss, or simply it didn't matter. He was filled with, and surrounded by Haytham and nothing about it could have been more perfect.

When the climax came, it took Shay completely by surprise – with the force of a hurricane. He clung to Haytham, half convinced he'd be swept away by the waves of pleasure as they crashed through him. Distantly, he thought he might have moaned Haytham's name. His whole body trembled while Haytham drew it out as long as possible and hit the edge himself, filling Shay with the heat of his release. It wasn't until Haytham collapsed on top of him, gasping for breath and whispering a slew of incoherent endearments, that Shay realized he hadn't even touched his cock. With some amusement, he thought to himself that sex was like anything else – an art improved through skill and attention to detail. Haytham, being the stickler for little details that he was, didn't need to repeat the process some fifty times to figure out what felt best and how to do it.

"Shay?" Haytham mumbled, nuzzling his nose against the ex-Assassin's cheek as they lay basking in the afterglow.

"Mmm?"

Haytham trailed the tip of his index finger along the scar on his face. "What gave you this scar?"

"Tell me what gave you this one, and I'll answer that." Shay said lazily and rested the palm of his hand against the marred skin on Haytham's side. He didn't reply, but a slightly sharp intake of breath suggested the Shay had hit a nerve. He decided to try to his luck. "Well?"

"I was stabbed a few years ago. By a young man." Haytham replied. Shay gently prodded his shoulder and and kissed him softly.

"And?"

"...It nearly killed me." Haytham replied evasively. "Obviously, to leave a scar like that. Shay, your post-sex etiquette needs work as well, I see."

"No, no. You started this one." Shay retorted, resting his head on Haytham's chest. It felt so good just to touch him that there simply weren't words. Haytham let out an irritated sigh and ran his fingers through Shay's hair.

"I was ordered by the Grand Master at the time to to capture a young man, to be reunited with his mother so that she would be willing to translate an encoded journal detailing information about the precursor site that I was sent here to find. Little did I know, he kept them prisoner in terrible conditions. When I discovered that it was he, Reginald Birch, who had my father murdered and fed me lies for my entire life, I conspired against him. The day that we killed him, I found and released his prisoners – Maria and Lucio were their names. Lucio apparently couldn't forgive my ignorance of their plight and ran me through. I cannot say I blame him, really." Haytham replied, in a strained tone. With the way he spoke, like he'd rather hang himself, Shay realized it wasn't any easier for Haytham to open up about these events than it had been for him to discuss Liam.

"Did you let them go?" Shay asked, frowning. Haytham nodded stiffly.

"Apparently the last thing I said before I blacked out was to spare them, though I have no memory of it. I would have anyway. What befell them was my fault. Birch's mindless obsession with the precursor artifacts robbed him of any morals he might have once possessed, but I was ignorant of that, choosing instead to believe that he had nothing to do with quite a few atrocities over the years. All the signs were there, but he had been my mentor who had taken the place of my father. I refused to see any evil in him until it was far too late to reconcile." Haytham explained wearily. "The Assassins may have their fair share of bad apples, but so too do the Templars."

"There was a friend of mine, who was there that day. Jim Holden was his name. In many ways, I think he may have been to me what Liam was to you, though we were never lovers. He was a dear friend to me, and an accomplice in my crusade against Braddock who murdered his brother. When we rescued my sister from the Ottomans, we botched the mission. He stayed behind to distract the guards while Jenny and I escaped." Haytham continued.

Shay just let him talk, terrified that if he interrupted Haytham might stop. "So, he died so you two could get out." Shay said sadly, when Haytham fell silent.

"No, no. It was much worse. He... Shay, they... He was captured, and sent to a monastery where the Coptic priests there made him into a eunuch. I rescued him of course, but it was too little and too late. He worked alongside me long enough to see Birch dead. ...And once he was sure I'd recovered from Lucio's attack, he took his own life. I cannot blame him for that. Never. I would have done the same in his place. Though, I do blame myself for his fate. All he cared about was making sure I survived and was well enough to be back on my feet."

Shay made a face that was somewhere between a wince and disgust. "I hope t'God those bastards are all rottin' in eternity boxes, too. A man's not a man without his cock."

Haytham chuckled quietly to himself at Shay's choice of words. "I do not know if I killed them all; getting Jim out was my primary concern. But I did slaughter every one of them that I could find and burnt the monastery to the ground. I can say that was honestly the only time I have ever enjoyed killing."

"Good." Shay replied and yawned. "What happened t'your sister after all that?"

"She lives in the old family home in Queen Anne's square, back in London." Haytham explained. "We exchange letters, but mostly only to make sure the other is still alive. We really have very little to say to each other. Again, her fate was also my fault. Rather, I could have found her much sooner than I had. ...But I allowed Reginald to lead me astray."

"How... How do you live with all o' that and never have a problem knowin' which way's up?" Shay asked, his eyes meeting Haytham's.

The hollow despair Shay saw in Haytham's eyes was enough to answer the question without words. "I do not." He finally admitted.

"Well, no need to keep runnin' from it. You can cry on my shoulder too, if you want. God knows I spent enough time cryin' on yours the other night. You know I wouldn't tell a soul." Haytham glared at him and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"...Are we quite finished with this conversation?" Haytham complained.

"Fair enough. And... I honestly don't know where this scar came from, since you asked. Either when I threw myself through the window o' Achilles' manor to escape, or when I fell. I don't really remember much o' what happened that night. Probably for the better." Shay replied, looking up at the ceiling.

"Probably." Haytham agreed, and Shay let him pull him as close as physically possible as he drew the covers over them.

Eternity box – a coffin