Notes: I always felt like Benjamin Church must have done something or other to royally piss off Haytham, or he probably wouldn't have gotten his ass handed to him the way he did. Or maybe he was just a jerk and had it coming. ...Or both.

Chapter 23: This Won't End Well

"This is idotic. We're chasin' our damned tails." Haytham glared daggers at Liam across the meeting table in the Green Dragon. Shay watched both of them warily, silently hoping he wouldn't have to intervene. Haytham had made his opinion of Shay's choice to accept Liam's assistance rather clear, and Shay knew damn well that he'd take the first opportunity to get rid of what he most likely saw as an obstacle. He's jealous, Shay realized as the two men had the sort of staring contest that children did.

"What is 'idiotic' is the fact that you two are spending more time harping at one another than acting like adults." Benjamin snapped, finally drawing Haytham's scrutiny to himself instead.

"Are you calling me childish?" Haytham growled narrowing his eyes.

"For fuck's sake, can we talk about the damn smugglers? You're all actin' like a bunch o' kids." Shay interrupted.

"Damn right y'are." Chimed in Thomas, with a sour look on his face.

"Enough o' this, Shay's right. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can put it behind us and pretend it never happened." Liam added. "Mister Weeks and I didn't find much, but Shay and Haytham did - show them."

Shay stood, pushing his chair out from behind him with a loud scrape. Carefully, he placed a small bundle of cloth in the center of the table. The others watched curiously as he pulled open the loose knot holding the fabric in place.

"What the bloody hell is that, exactly? A rock?" Pitcairn asked incredulously as Shay revealed what appeared to him as a nondescript chunk of stone.

"No wait... That's..." Liam bent forward for a closer look, and saw the way the stone shone like stars in the night sky as the candlelight flashed across its smooth surface. "That stone... It must be from a precursor site!" He said excitedly.

"We've no idea, but if it is from a precursor site then those fools have no idea what they've stumbled upon." Shay replied. "Supposedly it had a key kept with it that was stolen. We don't know much about it, only that it was owned by a farmer by the name of Brown who lives a good ways outside of town."

"Brown?" Liam asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Shall I say hello to Molly for you, Shay?"

"Aye, and if you're up there again I'll remind you to blow off the loose corns with Anne." Shay retorted.

"...How did you remember that? You were so drunk you could hardly stand." Liam grumbled. Thomas, Jack and Ben all stifled a fit of badly concealed mirth.

"Anyway, old Daniel Brown and I aren't on the best o' terms. It's best I don't show up on his doorstep. Liam, Haytham will go with you; see what he knows. Jack, Thomas and I will see if anythin's turned up in the black market."

"The rest of you, keep an eye on the Inn and listen for any talk of a dark-skinned man wearin' a hood that might have been seen recently." Haytham added, with a nod to William, John and Benjamin.

"I have to wonder, though. If these men are just smugglers, what interest would they have in a precursor site? How would they even know about them?" William asked with a curious frown.

"I have a theory about that," Shay said, tapping his fingers on the table. "But I think I'll keep it to myself for now, unless I'm right."

"...I think know who you're on about, but he hasn't been seen since that disaster in Haiti." Liam added thoughtfully. "He also wouldn't o' left left behind a scene like that unless it was for a reason. He was always damned good at his work. Shay, don't you go after him alone. He's a dangerous son of a bitch."

Thomas and Jack went their separate ways, leaving Shay to investigate his own theories in peace. Or in relative safety. Laurent was a lethal killer. He'd worked for years freeing slaves after being taught how to fight by the Maroons. They'd never see him coming. Shay knew that, and he'd rather not have to haul the dead bodies of his allies back to town. If he was alone, he might have a chance. Maybe. That was assuming he even found the man. If he was still in Boston. If nothing else, he was relatively sure Laurent would be willing to speak civilly. ...They were both considered traitors by the Assassins, after all. Regardless, he knew that going after him alone was a bad idea. It didn't stop him. ...It should have.

"I'm sorry, it's nothin' personal." He said to a passing redcoat as he knocked him out cold with the butt of his air rifle, snatching his coin purse as he he did. He spared only a few seconds to tie and gag the naked the guard before hiding his unconscious form in a hay pile. He'd have time to regret tormenting an innocent man later, but he couldn't think of any other way to force Laurent out of hiding.

"Guardsman!" He called, waving to a patrol of passing redcoats. "Help! There was a murder just now! I saw it happen! A big colored man in a hood just killed that officer and robbed him!" The guards dropped everything and went to investigate, giving Shay more than enough opportunity to vanish. Thankfully, the patrolmen in Boston didn't recognize him. Back in New York, this scheme never would have worked. Now, he had only to wait. ...And to tip off a few of the town criers.

It was nearly midnight when Laurent finally showed himself. Or rather, Shay witnessed him leap from a stack of hay and stab the only nearby guard as he made a desperate bid for freedom. He bolted in the direction of frontier to get out of dodge, but Shay caught up with him. Well, he'd like to think he did.

"Wait!" He called, panting with the effort of trying to close the distance between them. Laurent was fast and moved with the intuition of a cat, bounding over obstacles with little effort. "Damn it, Laurent! You son o' a bitch!" At the sound of his name, the Assassin stopped in his tracks long enough to look over his shoulder. Recognition showed in his expression, followed by panic. Shay was there to kill him, obviously. Shay swore vehemently and decided that he just wasn't fast enough. He was, however, a damn good shot. Laurent crumpled to the ground after a few more steps with a well-aimed sleep dart sticking out of his shoulder. He was understandably irate when he woke up a few moments later tied to a tree. He shook his head, his long braided black hair falling into his face.

"Traitor," Laurent hissed, tugging at the rope binding him to test its strength. Shay knew it wouldn't hold him. Not for long, anyway. He was infamous for getting himself out of almost anything. He had to be, what with his infiltrating slave plantations and all.

"Sorry about that, but I wanted to talk t'you before you ran off again." Shay said and withered under the venomous glare that the behemoth of man sent his way. He was no less intimidating than he remembered him to be, though most of that was probably because he looked like bull beef on a good day. Only Haytham could deliver a glare more murderous. "Anyway, the gunsmith. You did him in."

"Aye." Laurent snapped. "To stop you lot from getting your hands on something no man ever should before you sniffed it out, you damned dog."

"So, this is just about this stupid war that's been goin' on since time began, and not actually to do with the smugglers at all?" Shay asked, as Laurent slipped his hands out of the bindings. Shay made to grab him, but he swatted his hands away.

"Peace. I'm not a savage, I'll talk about this like an adult instead of skulking around like a child. There's not much point in running when the prey's already cornered." Laurent ground out and leaned casually against the tree he had been tied to. Shay wasn't so easily deceived, he knew he'd have a hidden blade at his throat if he made any sudden movements.

"Where's the precursor site, and what is it?" Shay asked.

"First, the smugglers. I have no idea what you're talking about, to be honest. I've been operating alone since the fiasco in Haiti. Achilles and Mackandal wouldn't see past their own ambitions, so I follow the creed in my own way. Also, my condolences. I heard about Lisbon, and for what it matters, I won't fault you for the path you've chosen. I've survived the same, after all." Laurent replied, dancing around the question for the time being.

"Haiti... Wait, you were there?" Shay asked in disbelief.

"It was me that Mackandal sent there to recover a piece of Eden, along with a few of his best Maroons. Only it... Well, you know the rest, and the Templars stole the artifacts while I escaped with my life." Laurent replied, glancing over his shoulder in a way that suggested paranoia to rival Shay's own. "I still don't know how I made it out alive, and some days I wish I didn't." Shay made no comment; he didn't need to. He knew what that weight felt like – all too intimately.

"But these smugglers, if they're the same ones that made a mess of that merchant schooner in New York, then I know where to find them. I've been killing them off as I can. I... May or may not have thought they were friends of yours." Laurent said sheepishly.

"Why tell me that, then?" Shay asked. "It don't seem like helpin' me is high on your list o' priorities."

"It's not, but stalling you was." Laurent replied with a smirk.

"Stallin' me... What d'you - ! Shite!" Shay made it about two steps before the sound of a gunshot rang out through the night. The thought didn't register in his mind that the shot had been intended for him until he saw the blood. He swayed on his feet as the pain came and he grabbed at his chest where the wound was, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as he collapsed to the ground. It was a lethal shot, and he knew it. Yet, the only thought in his mind when he realized he wouldn't be walking away from this one was of Haytham. "No..." He rasped, the sight of his own blood staining the ground swimming in his vision as it began to go to cloudy.

"It's nothing personal Shay, but you are the enemy. Rather, you were the enemy. You really took a stink for a nosegay, didn't you? All I had to do was mention Lisbon and you go all puppy-eyed. Good riddance." He heard Laurent tell him as his vision clouded. He was distantly aware of the sound of the Creole man's footstep's retreating into the distance while he struggled to breathe. For a moment, he thought he heard another shot ring out. …And then, it all went black.

Blowing off the loose corns – having the occasional tryst or affair

Taking a stink for a nosegay – being really gullible

Bull Beef – Someone that looks like bull beef is basically a big muscular dude you really wouldn't want to pick a fight with.