Notes: Hehe, this thing has gotten so out of hand. I only meant for it to be like 25k words. What happened...?

Warnings: A little elaboration on the previously mentioned non-con, but nothing graphic.

Chapter 31: A Proposition for a Traitor

To Shay's credit, his first reaction wasn't immediate denial. It was mild confusion, followed first by shock and then panic. In other words, it was anything but the usual 'I've just been caught cheating on my lover' reaction.

"I don't... Did I really...?" He stuttered, looking at Haytham with wide eyes. Haytham sighed and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. They'd been through too much to throw it away now. He owed Shay that much at least. He ruffled Shay's hair lightly and drew the covers up over his shoulders.

"You did." Haytham told him in a flat tone, carefully devoid of emotion.

"But I didn't... I mean we haven't... Not in years and -" Shay rambled, flustered.

Haytham pressed his finger to his lips to silence him. "I know. I trust you. Calm down, take a deep breath, and tell me about it."

Shay took a moment to compose himself and uncertainly met Haytham's eyes. "I can't let go. I don't know why. I know that I should, that it's just a memory now, but... I want him back, at least as a someone I can call a friend. I know we'll never be what we were, but sometimes I think about it... And how much I miss it." He explained miserably. Haytham somehow managed to swallow the jealousy that surged through him – for the moment, anyway. What would he do if Shay went back to Liam? He didn't know. The answer wasn't there. It wasn't as simple as shooting him in retaliation for breaking his heart, or poisoning Liam's tea. ...Not that he would do either of those things. He'd only kill Liam if he were truly a threat to the Order and, and at that moment he was anything but. Regardless, Haytham was the Grand Master of the Colonial Rite, and a grown man – not a bloody scorned woman. He chose his words carefully. Or, at least he thought he did.

"And if somehow all crimes were forgiven... Who would you choose? Him, or me?" Haytham asked, holding his breath as Shay regarded him with a pained expression.

"That's the hard part, en't it?" He said quietly. "I can't have both o' you."

Haytham paced the length of his office aimlessly, ignoring the pile of paperwork that Charles had left for him. He was at a loss as far as how to handle Shay. If nothing else, it was a volatile situation. If Shay chose Liam and left the Order Haytham would lose not only one of his best assets, but so much more on a personal level. He felt a little bad about leaving Shay to sleep alone, but if it particularly upset him, he hadn't made a comment. Haytham needed to be alone, needed to think. ...Not that it was particularly helping. He could see Shay from the window in the office. He was sparring with Charles in the courtyard, Connor sat on one of the carved stone benches watching them studiously. Haytham turned away and glared at the stack of papers with enough venom to set them ablaze. He didn't really care about fighting with the lobsters over land ownership rights at the moment, though he supposed he had best attend to it. Shay would be furious if the authorities removed Fort Arsenal from his possession to use as a storage facility.

Just as he reached for the sealed envelope bearing Colonel something-or-other's seal, the door to his office swung open with a soft squeak. Expecting Shay, he steeled himself. Only Shay ever went in without knocking.

"Father?" Haytham let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and and turned to Connor.

"Yes, Connor?" He asked, sitting down at the desk and making a damn good show of hiding how much of an emotional wreck he was. Connor scooted himself up on the large ornate chair opposite him and tucked his legs underneath him. Haytham made a mental note to teach him how to sit properly on a day when he was likely to have a bit more patience.

"Were you mean to Shay?" Haytham blinked in confusion, and frowned.

"Not that I am aware of." He replied. "What is wrong with Shay?"

"Charles told him to ask if you were getting your work done, but he said he should leave you alone – that you wouldn't want to talk to him. He seemed sad." Connor said, in an accusing tone. "You should tell him you're sorry."

"It is not that easy, little cub." Haytham explained.

"Why not?" Connor pressed. Haytham sighed, and thanked whatever Gods there were for having the patience to deal with this.

"I love him, but I am losing him." He said flatly. Connor probably already knew, he was as damned perceptive as his mother, with all of Haytham's stubborn pride. It was a deadly combination.

"When you really love someone, you know when you need to let them go because they would be happier someplace else – no matter how much it hurts." Connor said cryptically.

"Did your mother tell you that?" Haytham snapped, bitterness in his voice. He knew the answer. She'd said that to him herself on the day she left. It was the last thing he'd ever heard her say, and the words stung like a blade had been thrust right through what was left of his heart. "Well, I am not ready to let him go! Now go practice your numbers!"

"Why? I want to play in the garden." Connor pouted.

"Because I bloody said so!" Haytham shouted and Connor scurried out of the office. He immediately regretted yelling at Connor. He had good intentions, even if he had the tact of a drunken deckhand. But then again, who was to blame for that but Haytham himself? If he hadn't been such an arrogant sod, Ziio wouldn't have – No. That was a dangerous train of thought. It had been a long time since had entertained the idea that they could have reconciled and been married. She was gone now, anyway. Gone. The pain that welled up in him was overwhelming. He'd give anything, anything, to see her smile again. To feel her touch, to – . ...So that was what Shay was trying (and failing) to cope with. Maybe he shouldn't have left him to his own devices. Again. When the bloody hell would he ever learn from his own mistakes? Possibly never. All he could do was keep picking up the pieces. Stiffly, he pulled on his coat and decided to be a man about it, like he should have done from the beginning. "I am really starting to wonder which one of us is the damned woman." He grumbled to himself.

He passed by Connor in the dining room. He was surrounded by a pile of wadded up paper and concentrating on learning his times tables. For what it mattered, he learned quickly and was eager to prove his value to the Templars, despite the fact that he knew nothing of their Order. "I am sorry for shouting at you." He said somewhat sheepishly. Connor looked up and gave him a crooked smile.

"It's okay. Say sorry to Shay." Connor replied. "I'm sure he'll forgive you for whatever you did."

Haytham didn't grace the statement with a reply. He swept out of the hall and nearly ran smack into Charles in the foyer. Charles said something to him that was completely ignored as he strode through the door behind him. For a moment, he imagined Charles standing there staring at the door as though it had offended him. He smirked in spite of himself. He spared Shay a glance as he apparently examined the large red blooms of a rose bush that was nearly twice his height. Strange, that it had bloomed so early. It was only the second week of April, after all. Haytham smiled to himself, knowing that Shay tended the flowers when he thought no one was looking, and that he would deny it until his dying breath. Willing himself to leave Shay be for the moment, Haytham continued on through the main gate, nodding to the guards as he passed.

He found Liam seated at one of the small tables outside of Shay's favorite tavern in Greenwich. He had a cup of tea in one hand, and a small battered book in the other. Wordlessly, Haytham sat down in the chair opposite him. Liam stared curiously over the top of the book for what felt like an eternity before he put it down, and took a sip of his tea.

"Hey, Beth, fetch another cup o'

tea would you? That's a good lass." He called to the blonde barmaid that was lounging at the next table over, nursing a tankard of something much stronger than tea.

"Anything for you, Liam!" She said sweetly and sauntered inside.

"All right, what the shite did you do? You look like someone's died." Liam asked, frowning.

"Aye, probably me by the end of this conversation." Haytham grumbled, and gratefully took the tea that Beth handed him before waltzing back into the tavern. What such a lovely young thing was doing serving drinks at a run-down ale joint was beyond him.

"Out with it." Liam urged, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair that protested with a loud creak.

".Shay is still very much in love with you." He said bitterly. "And, I may or not have accidentally given him an ultimatum to choose one of us."

"Bollocks." Liam swore and shook his head. "That's a right mess you've made. Do you really think he could choose? This is Shay we're talkin' about. He follows his heart, and doesn't think to use his head until he's already neck deep in trouble. Still, he's all yours. I can't... I loved him once, but the son of a bitch killed off everyone else I cared about. After all that's happened... I can forgive him, but nothin' more."

"You could be his friend." Haytham hissed.

"It's a little late for that." Liam retorted. "Maybe, I could have... Before I found Hope's body."

"Then why did you sabotage Achilles' every plan to be rid of him?" Haytham asked, remembering Shay's recounting of the letter he'd found. It was a bluff at best, but it had the desired result. Liam stared at him slack-jawed and at an utter loss for words.

"I did no such thing." He answered, but he was grasping at straws. He'd been caught in a lie and he knew it.

"Tell me about it." Haytham pressed.

Liam stared into his empty tea cup for an eternity before he finally answered. "When La Chasseur turned up dead, I knew it was Shay. I know his work when I see it. When he went after Kesegowaase, I made sure we were playin' booty. I sent the reinforcements along with Hope to attack the British troupes in town, leavin' the fort with half it's defenses. Kesegowaase never had half a chance. For what it matters, I didn't kill Monro. That was Hope. I tried to stop her, but I was too bloody late."

"Why did you try to save Monro?" Haytham asked curiously.

"Because he was a good man, who did good for people who couldn't help themselves. I didn't think he deserved t'die just because he was a Templar. I never questioned my orders before, but after seein' how badly Shay regretted killin' Smith and Washington, I started thinkin' on it. Hope didn't exactly agree and took matters into her own hands. None o' them trusted me again." Liam explained. "Hope... I killed her as much Shay did. I knew the path Shay would take as he chased her, and led her right to him like a pig to slaughter. I told her our ship was waitin' at the docks... Only it wasn't, and she had no back-up. And Chevalier... Honestly, if Shay had somehow cocked up killin' that arrogant bastard I would've done it myself, and planned to. In the arctic, I stalled Achilles for nearly two weeks before he got tired o' my shite and I followed him into the precursor temple."

"Yet, you still consider yourself an Assassin." Haytham mused in disbelief. If it was true, Liam was by far a worse traitor than Shay. Shay was a known evil, but Liam preyed on their trust and took them down from within.

"No. I don't. I haven't in years, not since Achilles drove Shay to kill himself rather than let him have that blasted manuscript. I knew then that I was on the wrong side, if whatever Shay had seen was worth dyin' for to keep it from happenin' again. ...But it was too late to turn back. It doesn't matter. I had to do what was right, even if it meant watchin' them die." Liam replied, fiddling with the hem on sleeve for some sort of distraction.

"Perhaps. What of the Templar Order? Would you never consider lending your skills to us in a more permanent nature?" Haytham inquired, curious of the answer.

"Is that an official invitation?" Liam said, regarding Haytham coldly.

"Aye, so long as you remain loyal to our cause. With what you have seen of us now, I suspect it is quite different from what you have been led to believe over the years." Haytham told him. "Think on it, and find me in my office when you've made up your mind. I need to go attempt to remedy the mess I've made of my more personal affairs."

"If I refuse?" Liam asked.

"Then you will leave once the smugglers are dealt with, as you had originally planned to do, if you think you have it in you to stay away. Though, I doubt you will refuse. After all, you have seen the true face of the world." Haytham replied cryptically and left without waiting for a response.

Shay was sitting in the garden with Connor on his lap and his arithmetic book in his hands. Haytham hung back for a moment and watched in silence as Shay tried pitifully to explain how the concept of division works. Connor looked completely lost. Haytham sighed and seated himself right next to them. Wordlessly, he scooped a hand full of small stones from the ground beside them.

"There six of these stones, imagine for a moment that they are slices of a cake. If all three of us each share the cake equally, how many slices do we get each?" Haytham asked, and arranged the stones into three groupings of two. "Two pieces, see?"

"Oh, I understand now!" Connor exclaimed, snatched the book from Shay's hand and ran back inside.

"But that's almost exactly what I said." Shay commented incredulously.

"Maybe he just needed a visual representation." Haytham said with a shrug. "Shay, I wanted to apologize. I should not have asked you to make a choice like that."

"It doesn't matter. Liam wouldn't want that." Shay replied, somewhat distantly.

"No, he would not. I just finished speaking with him, actually. That letter, Shay, it was true. He really did thoroughly trash the Assassin's plans to be rid of you, and I believe him." Haytham told him, and hesitantly he added: "It was Hope that killed Monro, not Liam. He tried to stop her, and in doing so lost their trust for him. At any rate, what did I do last night that made you so uncomfortable?"

"I don't like to be held down that." Shay answered vacantly, completely ignoring the other statements. Though, if his change in demeanor was any indication, he was relieved to know that Liam wasn't actively trying to kill him.

"Yes, but why exactly? I would avoid a repeat of it." Haytham pressed. Shay chuckled under his breath and shook his head.

"I should've known you'd ask. I don't know why I bother." He replied, giving Haytham a soft smile. "There was a group o' about five men, I think maybe four. I don't really remember. They were the local louts that always hung out at the bars, pickin' fights and whatnot. One night I was drunker than a skunk and they followed me out, plannin' to rob me. When they found that I was piss broke, they decided to just kill me for their trouble. Well, after they had a bit o' fun with me. They didn't get any further than holdin' me down and rippin' my drawers off before Liam sent them packin'."

"Christ." Haytham said, hardly able to imagine a time where Shay couldn't have killed five men blind-folded, one handed and three sheets to the wind.

"Aye. I think the thing that really threw me, was that after that was when I started to wonder if maybe I'd like it with a man. You know, even though I wanted nothin' to do with sex for the longest time. I didn't want to be touched at all; it just reminded me that I was a weak, helpless sod. I'd think o' how disappointed my father would be to see me, that I couldn't get my shite together well enough to watch my own back, and I'd want to die. The worst was that I couldn't look Liam in the eye for months because all I could think of what it might be like to be with him, with someone I trusted. Well, until he finally – literally – backed me into a corner and made me talk about it." Shay continued, and fell silent when the Assassin in question slowly made his way across the other side of the gardens and into Fort Arsenal, hands shoved in his pockets.

"And how did that go?" Haytham asked curiously.

"He laughed at me, and I sulked around like a scorned woman. Eventually he realized I wasn't pullin' his leg and decided to give it a go. We were all we had, after all. He had only just started workin' for the Assassins then. Though, to be fair anythin' more serious than a kiss didn't happen for nearly a year." Shay answered, looking up at the darkening sky. "Are you goin' to make me sleep alone again?"

"No, you idiot. I won't." Haytham told him and patted him on the shoulder. "Shall we find some supper?"

Lobsters – The British

Playing Booty – playing with a plan to lose

Three sheets to the wind – very, very drunk