Notes: Apologies for the lack of updates. I think my job is legitimately trying to kill me.

Chapter 27: Never Give Up

In the days that followed the confrontation with Laurent, Haytham was relatively useless – considering his injury and mindless anxiety over Shay's condition. William and Charles took over the politics and paperwork that Haytham normally handled, while the others spent the time digging for any new leads. Liam worked independently to find any information he could, and spent most of his time alone. He still returned to the Green Dragon every night, though. When Benjamin asked him why he was still hanging around, he just shrugged and told him that he'd promised Shay to help kill the bastards. However, they were either being very cautious or had moved to another port as there hadn't been any signs of their presence.

A week later, Shay was still unresponsive. They had him moved from the Morrigan to his room at the Green Dragon; thankfully the owners stuck to their policy of not asking questions. Connor, who had immediately adopted Shay as one of the few people he trusted, rarely left his side. Haytham had needed to bodily drag him out of the room one night to make sure he actually ate something. Instead, he just sat there staring at the soup Catherine had made like it had somehow offended him.

"What is wrong? Do you not like beef stew?" Haytham asked, nearly at the end of his patience. Apparently, looking after an emotionally damaged child was no less taxing than being in a relationship with a suicidally depressed killer. Connor looked up at him, and shook his head.

"Everyone I care about dies," He said flatly. "I need to be stronger so I can save them."

"It is not that easy. Sometimes, no matter how strong you are, there just is nothing you can do. You cannot save everyone. In my experience the harder you try, the more graves you end up digging." Haytham told him with a sigh. "Eat the soup, Connor."

"Will he wake up soon?"

"Of course." It was a lie, and Haytham wished someone would just rip his heart out. He'd asked Church the same question. The answer was 'maybe', but most likely not. 'Don't expect a god damned miracle, Haytham', he'd said and shooed him from the room while he changed Shay's bandages. The wound wasn't infected, and was beginning to heal, but it had done a lot of damage. The bullet had missed Shay's heart by less than an inch, and the only reason he was alive was because the shooter had been far enough away that the distance minimized the impact. Or, at least that was Benjamin's theory. There was no way the shot had been taken from close range. Each moment that passed was agonizing. Would he open his eyes and begin to recover, or would Haytham check on him only to find that he wasn't breathing anymore? He didn't even notice that he'd started pacing the length of the Green Dragon's loft. Connor watched him with interest. So did Liam, who had chosen that moment to turn in the for the night.

He watched Haytham for about five minutes before he snapped. "Come on, walk with me." He ordered and started back down the stairs. "Connor, stay here." He added when he hopped off his chair to follow. He pouted, but did as he was told. Connor had also decided that he was fond of Liam. He didn't have much respect for people he didn't like – a trait Haytham was working to remedy with very little success.

"You need to make arrangements, Haytham. He's not goin' to walk away from this. You need to accept that." Liam said when they were outside, safely out of Connor's earshot.

"Perhaps, just in case," Haytham replied glumly. "But not yet."

"It's been almost two weeks, and he's not showin' any signs o' improvement." Liam insisted. "It would be better for everythin' to be in order while you have the time to make preparations."

"No, I can't do that. If I do, it would mean I've given up on him." Haytham snapped. It was childish, he knew that. But if he gave up on Shay, how would he ever live with himself? Liam sighed irritably and leaned against the wall of the inn.

"You think I want this, don't you? Do you know why he's still alive at all? Because I couldn't kill him. I couldn't watch him die. That was why Achilles sent the others after him, because he didn't trust me to do what needed t'be done. ...He was right." Liam told Haytham, and stared ahead into the distance. "What we need to do is focus on the job. If he does wake up, he'll be right furious with us for makin' no fuckin' progress."

"Tell me when you find something." Haytham muttered, and went back inside. Pathetic as it was, he couldn't handle handle that type of talk. Shay would wake up – he had to.

Connor had left the loft, and Haytham found him curled up next to Shay. ...Shay who was just as far gone as he had been a week ago. Maybe he should make arrangements for a proper funeral. No. He had to believe Shay would recover. He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted Connor on the shoulder. "Would you leave us alone for a bit?" He asked, and Connor left without protest – though he did glance at Shay with a frown, the way he looked at things that confused him.

"Shay you bloody idiot." Haytham said more to the otherwise empty room than Shay himself. There was no reply, of course. Absently, Haytham ran his fingers through Shay's hair and wondered exactly what he would do if he didn't pull through. Shay wouldn't want to be laid to rest in Boston. He hated it here. The Morrigan was the only place he considered to be his home. But again, Haytham could not think these thoughts. He wasn't dead yet. He was still here, still breathing. Barely, but he still was.

"Don't you dare leave me." He said in utter despair. Maybe, just maybe if Haytham hadn't been staring vacantly at the wall with his back to Shay, he might have seen his lips twitch into the ghost of a smirk.

"I... wasn't plannin' on it... Sir." Haytham nearly fell off the bed in his haste to to turn around. Shay looked up at him blearily and closed his eyes tightly. "Am I drunk? Where'm I?" He mumbled incoherently.

"...Connor! Connor please find Benjamin!" Haytham yelled. "What can you remember?" He asked quietly and laced his fingers through Shay's. Shay shook his head weakly. Talking was probably too much of an effort for him, Haytham realized.

"You are in your room at the Green Dragon." Haytham told Shay patiently. "You went after Laurent and... Well, he must have shot you."

"Not Laurent," Shay said and coughed. Haytham tried to stop him from talking, but he did anyway. "He had... He had help. A woman, I think. He distracted me."

"Must've known he was good as dead if he actually tried to fight you off himself, so he had back-up. He always was a clever bastard. If it's any consolation, Haytham kicked him in the jewels for you." Liam said from the doorway.

"I...did?" Haytham said, frowning.

"Aye, when he tackled you, just before I stabbed him in the gullet with his bayonet." Liam replied with a smirk. Ben shoved him out of the way and leaned over to examine Shay. Even in his sorry state, he managed to give his least favorite Templar a withering glare.

"H-how much're you chargin' for this?" He slurred as Ben checked his bandaging.

"Oh, we'll settle up on that later." Ben muttered. "Don't move, idiot. The only thing holding you together is a few stitches!" He added as Shay made a pitiful attempt to sit up. Haytham gently shoved him back down.

"Does this mean he is out of the woods?" Haytham asked, hopefully. Ben just laughed and walked out of the room, not even deigning to answer. While it was a definite 'no', Haytham had to literally fight with himself not the throttle the man for his arrogance. ...And if anyone knew a thing or two about being an arrogant prick, it was Haytham.

"If anything," Church called from the hall, "I should go down in the history books for digging a bullet out of a man's heart, and having him survive two days – let alone half a month. Even if he dies now, it's still a noteworthy achievement in the field of medicine. Pity it'll never get put to paper considering we're doing the devil's work. I'll have to charge extra for lack of scholarly recognition."

"Haytham, can I... Ugh. Can I stab that self-righteous sod?" Shay asked, his words a little more coherent.

"You are not in fit shape to stab anything." Haytham chastised him, but leaned over and whispered in his ear. "...As long as it is not in public."

"That's what I love about you." Shay replied, and laughed – to his obvious immediate regret.

"What else can you remember? Did Laurent say anything useful?" Haytham inquired as Liam shooed Connor away and shut the door behind them, blessedly giving them a few moments of privacy. Shay only shook his head. Haytham decided not to press the matter. Shay was his primary concern, the rest could wait. No good would come of pushing him, when he could hardly speak without being in pain. "Do you recall what I said to you, when Church finished patching you up?" Another mute shake of his head. Haytham hadn't expected him to remember, but it didn't matter. Shay loosely held the edge of Haytham's sleeve as he got up, wincing as he put too much pressure on his sore side.

"...Stay." Shay mumbled and blacked out, his hand falling limply back to the bed.

"As if I would even consider you leaving you, idiot." Haytham whispered and kissed his forehead.

As the days passed, Haytham worried a little less about Shay. He still spent most of his time dead to the world, but he was mostly coherent when he was awake – a good sign, according to Ben. Sensing that he was beginning to recover, Connor seemed to cheer up as well. He could be found sitting with Shay, sometimes trying to read him passages from Haytham's books. Haytham kept a wary eye on both of them. One afternoon, he found Connor sitting on the stairs by himself, staring vacantly into space. Half wondering if he'd be able to get back up, Haytham sat down beside him.

"Is something bothering you?" He asked, looking down at him. Connor had grown a bit since he took him in, Haytham thought. Or, at least put some weight on. He'd been a skinny slip of a thing when they first met.

"I miss my mother." Connor said flatly.

Now that, Haytham thought to himself, is not a topic I want to touch with a ten foot pole. Yet, there was no avoiding it. "I do as well. She was a remarkable woman. I will not mourn for what could have been, however; she would not want that."

"No," Connor agreed. "She told me once that she left you because she hoped you could learn from your mistakes and fix them. So you could be a better person."

"Well, that is depressing." Haytham replied, though in truth he knew that. She'd said those words herself, though he had often tried not to think about them. Recently, it had been different. It was a struggle for him to keep what he had with Shay from falling apart, but he needed only to remember Ziio to find the right path. Or, the rather harsh lesson she'd taught him.

"I think she was wrong." Connor said, looking at Haytham out of the corner of his eye.

"...Pardon?"

"You're not a bad person, father." He said, pulling at the hem of his shirt sleeve. He was something of an odd sight, really. A little native boy with feathers in his hair, yet dressed to the nines just like the Templars who'd been watching over him. It was actually Charles and John who had taken him to the tailor. He was quite the little gentleman when he wanted to be, but also a bloody terror when the mood struck him.

"You did not know me then." Haytham told him, and wondered if he was any different – if he had changed at all. Maybe. He was still a jaded, bitter soul. ...But, no, not so much anymore. Shay was like a bright spot in the darkness, a reminder that there was something in the world worth fighting for. Connor, too, of course. He doubted he made a very good father to the boy, but he had to try – even if just to do try to do good by Ziio's memory.

"Don't care." Connor said stiffly.

"Why did you leave your village, Connor?" Haytham asked. He'd never had any luck before, maybe he'd break down and answer this time.

"To kill Charles Lee, but it wasn't his fault. Still don't like him." Connor answered bluntly.

"Why not return, then?" Haytham asked, still wondering how a child so young not only knew how to kill, but had been plotting a murder. Either way, Connor only shook his head and hopped down the stairs. Haytham didn't stop him. Perhaps he shouldn't let him wander freely around the docks, but the locals knew not to mess with the little native boy – unless they wanted to deal with him and/or Shay. Suffice to say, no one paid Connor any mind. Regardless, it was like trying to earn Shay's trust all over again. Connor, however, was much more fickle and thoroughly unpredictable. ...A trait he had most certainly inherited from his enigma of a mother.