Notes: I am really sorry for vanishing. Life has been kind of an epic burning trainwreck for me. Also, bring tissues, this bit is an angst fest. I totally made myself cry writing the later part of this chapter.
Chapter 32: If you Can't beat them...
Shay spent the better part of the following day helping Gist and the Morrigan's crew mend a bit of damage to hull that she'd taken from a nasty scrape with a rocky sandbar on the way back from Boston. Haytham was still steering too wide, apparently. He'd have to teach him how to properly handle his beloved Phantom Queen just in case, heaven forbid, he was ever unable to captain her again. He was sweaty, covered in mud and wearing nothing but a pair of worn trousers when Charles came looking for him and Gist. They shared a glance as Charles approached and wrinkled his nose at their appearance.
"Master Kenway needs the two of you in the dining hall, now." Charles said flatly. "Just clean up first, for the love of God."
"What's he on about?" Shay muttered, brushing dried mud off his pants. Gist shrugged and grabbed his coat from the post where he'd hung it near the docks.
"I don't know, best we don't dally." He replied and led the way back inside.
Shay was anything but clean, but it would have to do. At least he'd gotten most of the muck off, and tied his hair back into something resembling a neat pony tail. It was getting long, though. If it weren't for the fact that he knew Haytham liked it that way, he probably would have chopped it off a month ago. Deciding he'd rather be a little dirty than face Haytham's wrath for being late, Shay made his way to the hall. Charles, Ben, Jack, Chris, Thomas and Liam were all there waiting for him. He stood beside Haytham who gave him a curt nod.
"All right, now that we are all here, I have an announcement to make. I have given this quite a bit of careful thought, and I would appreciate you all approach this with at least half of dignity you managed to muster when we welcomed Shay into the Order." Haytham told them, and held up a hand to silence Ben who was already about to bemoan something. "Today, we welcome Liam O'Brien into our fold."
Shay could swear that his jaw dropped to the floor as he glanced first at Liam who regarded the others with a glare that just dared them to start talking shite, and then to Haytham who gave him a subtle wink.
"Do any of you, other than you Benjamin because nothing ever pleases you, object to this decision?" Haytham asked the group. Thomas snickered at Ben who was standing next to him and went about ten different shades of red. But the amazing thing, Shay thought, was that not a one of them objected. ...Not even Ben who damn well would have made his opinion known regardless of Haytham's comment.
"Very well, Liam. Do you swear to uphold the principals of our Order, and all that for which we stand? Never to share our secrets, nor divulge the true nature of our work? And, to do so until death – whatever the cost?" Haytham asked, meeting Liam's eyes.
"I do." He replied, without a trace of hesitation.
"Then I welcome you to our fold, brother. You are now a Templar. May the father of understanding guide us all." Haytham concluded, and pressed one of the iconic Templar signet rings into Liam's palm. "That once belonged to my father, if you were curious."
"Your father? But wasn't he an Assassin?" Shay asked, unable to help himself. Haytham gave him a wistful smile.
"Yes, but before he joined the Assassins he had a few dealings with the Templar Order. He stole the identity of a would-be traitor to the brotherhood, in order to collect a reward from the governor of Havana for handing over their maps to the Templars. He played along long enough to join the Order under his false identity – entirely to make a monetary profit, of course. Eventually he became an Assassin, but he always kept that ring as some sort of reminder of the mess he'd made." Haytham explained. "...Or so Jenny told me, at any rate."
For a moment, Shay had forgotten that Jenny actually existed. Haytham rarely mentioned her, and with mostly good reason. Liam slipped the ring onto his finger, over the scar there from where he'd been branded as an Assassin in observance of the old Tradition that went as far back as Ezio Auditore's time. "Your family seems about as stable as somethin' out o' Shakespeare's plays. It's a good thing you two can't have kids to pass your dysfunction onto. No offense, o' course." He said, smiling.
"We have Connor." Shay reminded him.
"I suppose one day he will stab me in the back for how terrible of a parent I am." Haytham grumbled. "Luckily, he has you, Shay."
"Arsehole! So that's why I'm always the babysitter." Shay grumbled, as the others fell into a fit of badly stifled laughter.
"Quit belly achin', Mum." Liam quipped and clapped Shay on the shoulder.
"Call me that again, and I'll put my boot so far up your bum I'll kick your teeth out, Auntie Liam." Shay replied indignantly. The pair of them joked back and forth all the way out to the courtyard, leaving Haytham to deal with the others. Shay flopped down onto one of the benches, and Liam took the seat beside him.
"What made you decide to join the Order?" Shay finally found the stones to ask. Liam recounted what he'd told Haytham about how he'd been no less of a traitor himself. Shay's head spun as he imagined it. It seemed impossible, and yet... He knew Liam, he knew when he was spinning a yarn. He wasn't; not this time. It felt like an immense weight had been lifted to know that he didn't have to fight to get Liam back if he'd never really lost him.
"I chose to trust you, and I chose right." Liam said, breaking the companionable silence. "I'm not sayin' we can ever be what we were, but... Friends?"
"Friends," Shay agreed, and gripped his hand tight. "...With benefits?"
"No, Shay." Liam groaned. "...And don't you start poutin'!"
"Ah well, it was worth a try." Shay said with a crooked grin. "What's our next move anyway; did Haytham say?"
Liam watched him in silence for a moment. "You aren't goin' to like it." He finally said in a sympathetic tone.
Liam was right, Shay decided, he didn't like a single blasted part of it. It was too risky, and frankly left too much to chance. Still, it was the only shot they had. He heaved a sigh as he tailed the gang's courier to a remote area. Once he was sure he was alone, Shay crept up behind the poor bastard and snapped his neck. He died without making a sound. Quickly, he robbed the dead man of his clothing and shoved the body into a bush to buy some time before it was discovered. Then, he pulled on the man's clothes and hid his own inside the large bag the courier used for carrying letters. Liam and Haytham were waiting near the market, both also disguised – Liam much more convincingly than Haytham.
"Take your hair down, Shay. You look too prim to be a proper lout." Liam commented with a nod. Shay grumbled a string of obscenities under his breath and untied the ribbon holding his hair back. He hated having it down, it only got in the way. Still, Liam had a point. Haytham still had his tied back, but it was disheveled enough to be passable.
"I still think I make this look good." Shay said to Haytham with a wink. He coughed to cover up a bark of laughter and nodded to Liam.
"Liam, you and I will sneak in from the back. Shay, walk right in the front door on the pretense of delivering a letter to the boss, to be in his hands only. We will whistle when we are in position. When you hear our signal, kill him." Haytham explained, as if it weren't the tenth time they'd gone over the (completely idiotic) plan.
"Her, Baker is a woman." Shay reminded him. "All right, let's get this done. Oh, and one other thing, Sir."
"Yes?"
"If I survive this without gettin' shot again, you owe me a good romp. And if I do get shot again, you have to tell Charles you think he has a nice arse. I still think this plan is rubbish. We're like cattle walkin' right into a bloody slaughterhouse." Shay hissed and gave them both a mock salute before turning toward the guarded entrance to the gang's compound.
"I'll pay you to tell Charles you think he has a nice arse, regardless o' whether he gets shot or not." Shay heard Liam whisper, which was met with a stony silence.
"Letter for the boss, her hands only." Shay said in a no-nosense tone to two beefy looking men guarding the front entrance to the compound. They shared a suspicious glance and whispered to each other just low enough that Shay couldn't hear. Shite, he thought to himself, the bastards are already onto us. Or not, he conceded as one of the men nodded and motioned for him to enter the compound. Shay allowed himself a moment to relax, knowing the hard part was over. Apparently the lookouts had more muscles than brains. He knew right where to find Baker after spending the better part of the day scouting the area to be as prepared as possible. ...And there she was, inside a large tent bent over a table, with a map spread out in front of her. It would be so easy to just do as he was told and kill her, but then he wouldn't have any answers... Fuck the blasted plan, he thought to himself.
"Constance." Shay said curtly, leaning nonchalantly against the tale beside her. She made a small sound of surprise, but otherwise gave no indication that she had been startled. Shay watched her curiously as her bright green eyes narrowed, and a small hand wrapped itself around the hilt of a dagger at her waist. She was a tiny woman, barely over four feet tall with dark auburn hair, and a dusting of freckles across her pale face. Shay knew better than to equate her petite stature with weakness, however. She'd almost killed him once, and he'd be damned if there was going to be a repeat of that particular fiasco. But... Something was off. He could swear he knew her face, but he just couldn't place it.
"You're alive. How?" She growled under her breath.
"I'm not that easy t'be rid of, darlin'." Shay replied with a shrug. "So, are we goin' to do this easy way? Tell me where the precursor site is, and I won't have to make this a bloodbath."
Constance glared at him a moment longer before quickly scribbling something on a scrap of parchment which she tucked into Shay's pocket. "Therese, the one they call 'the crow'. She was a Maroon, and is now mentor to us in Achilles' place. Stop her, before she makes the same mistake you did in Lisbon. You don't have much time. She was the one who shot you. I... Tried to stop her."
"She has the precursor box?" Shay whispered.
"Shay, you have to kill me." Constance said flatly and drew her dagger. Quick as an arrow she managed to slash Shay across the face as he dodged, but she wasn't fast enough. Shay grabbed her hand and twisted the dagger out of it, snapping her wrist as he did. It fell to the ground where it hit the flagstones with a clatter, and Constance's thugs where on Shay like flies on shite. Somehow, she managed to escape the fray, only to find herself choking on her own blood as Liam engaged his hidden blade and drove it into her throat. Between the three of them, they made short work of the thugs, most of whom wisely chose to flee.
Uncertainly, Shay examined Constance's body. Around her neck was a heavy gold locket that bore the Templar cross. Frowning, he pried it open only to find a nondescript lock of dark hair. Recognition hit him like a brick wall, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he could remember how to breathe. "Mary." He mumbled incoherently as a few long forgotten memories flashed though his mind.
Haytham glared daggers at Shay as he uselessly tried to wipe the imaginary blood off his hands onto his stolen clothes. "What were you thinking? She could have killed you! Why reveal yourself?"
"Wait... Is that...?" Liam gasped, taking a step back from the body. "Fuck, what've I done now?"
"Killed an enemy?" Haytham supplied.
"No! No, not an enemy. Honestly, I forgot she existed. ...That was a long time ago." Liam replied with a shrug. "Shay? When you're done havin' a crisis, we do still have a problem. Shay! Fuck's sake."
Shay stared somewhat hopelessly at the bloodstained locket resting in his palm. It was the same one he'd given her all those years ago, on the morning before he'd set sail with his father on the fateful voyage that turned his life upside down. Only, then it had been etched with a rose. He could still see the faint outline of the original design under the Templar cross. All these years she'd carried it with her, maybe even watching over him all that time in some strange way. What was it she'd said? She'd tried to stop Therese from killing him?
"Haytham, go find a bloody shovel. We can't leave her like this." Liam growled and shoved a protesting Haytham in the general direction of what looked the gang's supply shed.
Shakily, Shay pulled the bit of paper that Constance – no, Mary – had given him out of his pocket. Coordinates. ...Also a heavy key carved of black metal, obviously the one that had been taken from the gunsmith's workshop. There was nothing else, only a few hastily scribbles words: "Please don't forget me". How could he? And yet, he had. It had been years since he he'd so much as thought of her, this woman that he would have married if his father's ship hadn't sunk. Maybe they'd even have a house and a few kids running around if Mary's father hadn't broken the betrothal he'd arranged with Shay's own father when they were children, refusing to allow his daughter to marry a penniless sailor. That morning, when he gave her that locket with a lock of his hair, had been the last time he'd seen her. All he'd heard when he finally made it home alive was that her family planned to move to Boston, and that she was set to marry a wealthy London merchant old enough to be her father. ...Only that it was never to be as she took her own life. Which, obviously, she hadn't. That part of the story, Shay realized, he'd never know the whole of.
With a weary sigh, Shay tore off the bit of parchment with Mary's last words on it and pressed into the locket. Gently, he undid the clasp and stored it in one of his pockets. He didn't dare wear it, the delicate chain would break for sure. The sound of Haytham and Liam returning shook him back to reality. "Lets go. We haven't got a lot o' time. It's goin' to be Lisbon all over again if we don't hurry."
"But, Mary -" Liam started to say and Shay cut him off mid-sentence.
" - Wouldn't want us to waste the time she bought us by cryin' over her. We have to get our arses movin'. I need the Morrigan ready to sail yesterday." Shay snapped, pointing in the direction of Fort Arsenal. Liam swore under his breath.
"For what it matters, I'm sorry." Liam said, regret evident in his voice.
"No, she was going to force me to kill her... You just managed to get in the way. It's not your fault. You didn't know who she was either." Shay said, shaking his head. "Go on, I'll be there soon. ...Just give me that damned shovel and both o' you leave me the hell alone." Liam took off at a run back toward Fort Arsenal, obviously at a loss for words. Mary had been his cousin, after all.
"Are you going to tell me who she was?" Haytham pressed.
"Not now. Help Liam. I'll be there shortly." Shay quipped. "...I should warn you that I am going to spend the better part o' this trip three sheets to the fucking wind."
"Shay...?"
"Go, Haytham! Not, fucking, now!" Shay shouted, shooing him away. The flash of hurt that crossed Haytham's features made Shay instantly regret the words. "I – I just... I'm goin' to need you later."
"Do you want help?" Haytham asked as Shay picked Mary up as carefully as he could. With all the death he'd seen, this was the first time he truly felt like he might vomit from the sight of a dead body – other than flashbacks to Lisbon, of course. All he remembered of Mary was a gentle girl with a soft smile, who loved roses and sneaking out to the docks to watch the sun set over the ocean. She didn't deserve to die like this, laid to rest in an unmarked grave. No, she should have been married to a good man with a few little ones, in a big house with a garden full of the flowers she loved – like she'd always wanted. Not this.
"No, I need to be alone." Shay said, feeling utterly numb. He felt like he should cry, or feel... something. But there was nothing. Only emptiness. It didn't take him long to dig a shallow grave, she was a wisp of a thing, after all. She'd always been small, like her mother. As if by instinct, he found his way to Fort Arsenal, not paying any attention to his surroundings. He cleaned himself up the best he could and cut a handful of the roses from the bush in the courtyard as he left. Miserably, Shay went back to gang's compound, stepping over corpses to get to Mary's grave.
"I won't forget you." He said mostly to himself and left the roses on top of the pitiful little mound of dirt. The sun setting on the horizon, he turned in the direction of the docks where the Morrigan would be waiting. The Coordinates led to England.
Dallying – wasting time
Spinning a yarn – telling a story, or a lie
Bum – butt
Bellyaching – complaining/whinging