Notes: Oh man, Shay's in trouble now...
Warnings: sexual content, and referenced past non-con. Nothing too detailed on that, but it's there.
Chapter 30: A Prisoner of the Past
Shay sulked behind a pile of crates near the waterfront back in New York. Haytham had tried his damnedest to convince him not to go with Liam to meet his contact, but Shay wouldn't have a word of it. As much as he wished the opposite, Shay simply couldn't trust Liam enough to take his word for granted – an argument that Haytham was hard pressed to disagree with. Still, he had to avoid being seen. The man had worked with La Chasseur in past and might recognize him, so he followed Liam in the shadows from a short distance. It was difficult to keep up, though. He was mostly recovered, but not quite enough to do anything that required any kind of actual physical exertion. Shay darted behind a corner, catching his breath as Liam stopped near the docks. He motioned for Shay to stay hidden, and he fell back into the shadow cast by a moldering pile of unused lumber as a man approached Liam.
He wore the hood of an Assassin, but he had the look of a sailor about him. His skin was dark, and his long, black hair that poked out from his under his hood was done up in braids with beads at the ends. His muscled arms were covered in tattoos. One of the maroons, then? It took a moment for the notion to register in Shay's mind, but in a flash he wondered how much Laurent actually had to do with the killings, as this man fitted the description just as well.
"Jean, how've you been?" Liam asked in a cordial tone.
"Let's skip the niceties. What do you want, Liam? You do realize the brotherhood sees you as traitor these days, do you not?" The Assassin answered gruffly, his voice a deep baritone. Liam? A traitor? Shay strained to listen, a hundred and one questions popping up in his mind.
If the accusation bothered Liam, he ignored it. "I killed Laurent in Boston." He said flatly. "I didn't want to, but the bastard didn't leave me much choice. Was he workin' with you lot?"
"Laurent? No, we've been trying to hunt him down for some time. Ah Tabai hoped we might be able to get some sense back into him, but... Well, he actually gave me the order to deal with him as soon as I could. It seems you've done my dirty work for me." Jean sighed and tapped his foot on the rough flagstones beneath his feet. "What about the Templar attack dog? Our spies tell me he took a nasty shot."
"Dead." Liam said shortly.
"So, why are you poking around, anyway? As far as I was aware, if you stayed out of our business, we would stay out of yours." Jean asked, and Shay bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. The bastard was smart, he'd give him that.
"Because you aren't stayin' out o' my business. Well, your boys aren't at least. Anticosti is off limits to them, they know that. Tell me why you let your men kill a bunch o' women and children, and I'll consider lettin' 'em live." Liam snapped icily.
"There was a Templar spy in -"
Liam rolled his eyes and gave Jean a stern glare. "No. I would have known. And dealt with it myself."
"Look, they're just smugglers. They make good spies and make getting weapons easier. They aren't always the sharpest tools in the shed." Jean retorted. "They've gotten a little bold lately, sure, but that's no reason for you to come out of retirement and meet me in person. It seems to me, that you might have found a new cause -"
"Listen here you bloody sack o' shite! I want one thing: the name o' the man that killed Cormac. Give me that, and you can walk out o' this alive." Liam hissed, Shay barely managed to hear the words but he had his air rifle cocked and aimed before Liam finished the sentence. If Jean didn't co-operate, he died. Actually, either way he died. They had agreed on that before they even set out. If they let him live, he'd surely warn his men. Besides, Liam didn't want to run the risk of him escaping with the knowledge that he was in New York and asking questions. It wouldn't do the Templars any favors either, Shay knew. Which, to say the least, wasn't really like Liam. ...It was more in line with Haytham's way of thinking, if anything.
"Oh? What is this? Revenge? Wasn't killing Laurent enough to satisfy that?" Jean asked, breaking into a fit of laughter.
"You could say that. It's a little bit personal. If anyone was goin' to put a bullet in Shay's heart it should've been me." Liam replied irritably. "Talk."
Shay tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind that the statement had probably been truthful, at least to some extent as he kept listening. It hurt, really, not knowing where he stood. On on hand, Shay felt like Liam still cared about him, on the other he was reasonably sure Liam was waiting to stab in him the back when he exhausted his usefulness. Shay didn't know why he cared so much, though. He had put Liam and everything he had once meant to him firmly in the past. So why was it, that he just couldn't give up the feeble little hope that they could fix things?
"Constance Baker. ...And she ain't no man." Jean snapped, and Shay nearly missed it after he allowed himself to get caught up in his thoughts. "She's your gal, but you'll never catch her. We're done here. Now piss off." Jean added and shoved Liam aside.
Shay sighed and pulled the trigger. Liam had his boot on the unconscious man's throat by the time Shay slowly made his way closer. If nothing else, news would probably take some time to get back to the Assassins, never mind the local authorities. Shay wordlessly searched Jean's corpse for anything useful, and pocketed an envelope bearing Achilles' seal when Liam had his back turned.
"Somethin' wrong, Shay?" Liam asked as he helped him tie some bricks to Jean's feet before they shoved him off the edge of the docks. Thankfully the area was deserted, so they didn't have witnesses to silence.
"I – No. Baker... D'you recognize that name, Liam?" He asked and nudged Jean's rifle off the edge of the dock with his boot. It fell into the sea with a muffled sort of splash, followed by a trail of bubbles that seemed to shimmer in the fading light.
"She's a nobody as far as I know – one o' Hope's apprentices. Or, she was one o' Hope's apprentices." He replied tartly. Shay shook his head mutely. "He have anythin' useful on him?" Liam asked, glancing pointedly at the shadowed depths of the water.
"No, just some coin and a bit o' sotweed." Shay lied effortlessly.
"Fine then, let's head on home. There's naught t'be done for now. Tomorrow's another day, and all that rot." Liam told him nonchalantly.
"Aye, and Haytham'll skin me alive if I stay out too late in this pitiful shape." Shay muttered, mostly to himself. If Liam had an opinion, he kept to himself. It was then that he realized that Liam had referred to Fort Arsenal as 'home'. ...What did that really mean? He had to wonder. Surely, it didn't mean that he felt that he belonged there. That couldn't be possible, not with Ben's constant harassment, Thomas' alcohol fueled insults, and the others' general disapproval. Haytham was the only one that tolerated his presence with any semblance of being civil. Shay shook his head and followed Liam deciding not to think on it too much for the moment.
Shay lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the bedroom. The letter bearing Achilles' seal was tucked in his desk drawer – under Haytham's journal that he absolutely did not touch. Ever. Under pain of death. He didn't want to look at the blasted letter. He knew he'd have to, but he figured he might as well prolong the inevitable. What if Achilles was back in the game? Was sparing the bastard's life a mistake? Haytham would be furious. Shay could just imagine it now... 'I told you this would happen! You should have just let me kill him! What were you thinking, Shay? Were you thinking?!' Dejectedly, he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow that smelled a bit like Haytham. He cringed inwardly and felt like a child waiting to be chastised.
"Fuck it." Shay swore and kicked the covers off. He snatched the offending correspondence from the drawer and lowered himself to the carpet in front of the fireplace, using the orange glow of the waning flames as light to read by. Uncertainly, he slipped his finger into the folds of the parchment and carefully tore the seal.
Ah Tabai,
I sincerely apologize, but I stand by my previous statements. I will remain in retirement. Just this once I will answer your questions, but I would humbly request you leave me in peace after this.
You are a fool if you honestly believe that Shay is dead. Wounded, perhaps, but probably not dead. Make damn sure next time. We made that mistake, after all. It only cost us everything. Your messenger tells me you've lost track of Liam as well. His loyalty is questionable at best, especially where Shay is concerned – do not forget that. He will protect Shay, and has thwarted our plans to be rid of him several times in the past.
As far as the precursor site... Just let it be, but make sure it stays out of Templar hands. No man needs the kind of power those artifacts hold. You know what happened in Haiti, and Lisbon. I doubt I need to remind you of that. Honestly, I am shocked you even asked.
Sincerely,
Achilles Davenport
Feeling somewhat relieved, Shay tossed the letter into the fireplace, watching vacantly as it was consumed by the flames. What was he going to do about Liam, though? It had been Shay who asked him for assistance, but the more time that went by, the more he wanted him to stay. ...Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that Liam was waiting to off him – in spite of what he wanted to believe, and the contents of the letter. The letter mightn't even be real, after all. ...Even if he knew Achilles' tidy script well enough to recognize it. Besides, Liam would never side with the Templars. He was only doing so now because their interests were aligned, of course.
"Shay? What the bloody hell are you doing down there?" He visibly tensed at the sound of Haytham's voice. Once was a time that not even a sodding mouse could sneak up behind him, but lately... "Shay?" Haytham repeated, now standing beside him. With a sigh, he told Haytham about the letter, and let the other man half drag him to the bed.
"What else is on your mind?" Haytham pressed, acting as though he didn't even care about Achilles' correspondence with Ah Tabai. ...Maybe he didn't. It wasn't exactly something of significance. Shay watched him in silence for a few moments as he took off his coat and pulled the ribbon from his hair.
"Liam, mostly. I wish I could trust him." Shay mumbled. And more, he thought, why can't I just let go?
Haytham fixed him with a searching sort of stare, and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. "Rarely is anything ever truly black and white." He said thoughtfully. Shay didn't reply. Haytham shoved him down into the bed and kissed him near to asphyxiation. " Stop fretting. Whatever happens will happen, and we will deal with it when it does."
"That doesn't sound like you, Sir..." Shay mumbled, pressing his face against Haytham's shoulder.
"No, but I am quite finished with chasing my own damn tail. Let them show their cards, then we will strike. I never was one to hunt shadows; it is a waste of time." Haytham explained. "As far as Liam is concerned... I have no more idea of his motives than you do. We need to remedy that."
Shay sighed quietly. "What d'you propose, Sir?"
"I 'propose' that we slay that beast tomorrow. Right now I want only two things: sex and sleep. In that order." Haytham replied in a husky whisper. Any response Shay might have had was cut short by a startled gasp as Haytham rolled over and pinned him tight to the bed. He didn't bother to try and claim a dominate position. Haytham was obviously in a mood of some sort, and chose Shay's body to take out his frustrations on. All things considered it was probably safer that way. Perhaps that was why the other Templars (aside from Church, obviously) didn't particularly take any real with issue with their involvement. Frankly, it made sense. Haytham was much easier to deal with, and significantly more approachable now that he had an outlet of sorts. ...He hadn't even threatened to put his boot up Thomas' arse in over a month.
"Well?" Haytham asked, with that annoyed expression he had every time he needed to repeat something because someone wasn't quite listening.
"Hmm?" Shay mumbled, not really interested in a coherent conversation with the way Haytham had his knee nudged against his groin.
"I asked how you would like me to take you." Haytham quipped and nipped at Shay's throat nearly hard enough to draw blood. That left a mark for sure, Shay thought to himself and made a mental note to make sure his collar was buttoned all the way to hide it in the morning. Haytham dragged his tongue across one of Shay's nipples and gripped his cock tight in his hand when Shay didn't answer immediately.
"And Liam called me a whore..." Shay groaned. "Patience, mate. You need some."
"I am not feeling particularly patient, Shay." Haytham hissed. "Fine, we do this my way. I think I shall make you beg for it..."
"...Beg?" Shay muttered incredulously. "I don't – Shite, Haytham!" He thought he might have been about to say 'I don't beg!', but whatever direction his thoughts were headed in came to a screeching halt as Haytham grabbed his wrists and pinned him hard to the bed. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to; Haytham obviously meant business. Shay wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. He tried to slip out of Haytham's grip. Haytham easily shifted his position and held him in place. A long suppressed memory flashed through his mind then, unbidden. His breath caught in his throat. It was cold all of a sudden, damp too. He felt cold stone beneath him, and the sound of cruel laughter filled his ears.
"What's the matter you tender parnel, O'Brien not here to save you this time, eh? Bet you're wishing you never left the urinal of the planets, now ain't you?" He remembered those words clear as anything. They'd been wrong, of course. Liam had saved his arse just in the nick of time.
"Let me go." Shay said flatly, giving Haytham a light shove. "Now."
Haytham obviously sensed the near panic in his voice and let go. "What is wrong, Shay?"
"Nothing. Just... Don't do that again." He replied, and wriggled free from Haytham's slackened grip.
Haytham stared at him silently for a moment, and pulled him tight against him. "Is it something we need to talk about?"
"Not now." Shay mumbled, melting into the warmth of the embrace. He didn't know any better; he wouldn't hurt him on purpose. "Quit your worryin' and fuck me, already."
"No need to repeat that." Haytham commented and snatched the small glass bottle of oil from the night stand. It never ceased to amaze Shay how easily they'd fallen into this routine – how comfortable they were with each other. It hadn't been like this with Liam. It had taken years to get to this point. ...Liam. He tried to push the thoughts from his mind as Haytham slowly began to move. What they'd had was a memory now, nothing more. This though, this was real and it was Haytham that mattered. Shay could tell himself that at least. He moaned quietly, arching himself against Haytham as he sped up his pace. No, he didn't need anything else. Whenever he felt himself starting to fall, all it took was a smile or a kiss from this enigma of a man to save him. Yet... Was the letter real? Had Liam actuallysabotaged the brotherhood's attempts to kill him? He wanted to believe it, God did he want to believe it.
A heated kiss from Haytham was enough to drive the thoughts from his mind – for the moment, at least. "You are distracted. Let us change that..." He purred tracing his index finger along the jagged, fresh scar across Shay's chest from his most recent near scrape with death. It was still healing, and very sensitive to the touch. Shay squirmed and dug his nails into Haytham's back, momentarily overcome by the pleasure mixed with a slight sting of pain. "That is better," Haytham mumbled and tangled his fingers into Shay's hair. Any sense of conscious thought left Shay entirely as Haytham wrapped his hand around his cock, which was his undoing. The climax took him so hard, he felt for a moment that he might have blacked out. It was Haytham speaking to him that snapped him out of semi-conscious haze.
"Shay?"
"Mm?"
"...Why did you did just call out Liam's name?"
sotweed – tobacco
Tender Parnel – a pussy, basically. A whimpy person.
The urinal of the planets – Ireland. This one actually kind of makes me a little angry, ugh. ...Along with that stereotype that all us Irish are a bunch of drunks.