Notes: Ugh. Guys I'm so sorry. My laptop got ruined and I lost my WIPs of these next few chapters and I couldn't bring myself to rewrite it for a while. I also can't find my flash drive that had my list of ye old slang words that I took ages putting together. Anyhow, moving on. There is going to be Shay/Haytham/Liam in the future seeing as there's been so much support for it. :3 Thanks to anyone who's still reading this!
Chapter 33: That's your plan?
"He won't talk to me." Haytham said flatly from where he stood at the Morrigan's helm, gripping the wheel so tightly it was painful. All Shay had done in the three days since leaving new York was drink until he passed out, and drink some more when he woke up. The only thing Haytham could think of was what he would do if Shay took about a hundred steps backward, and reverted to the mess he was after he thought he'd killed Liam.
"Me neither." Liam replied, leaning against the wooden railing in front of him. He had his hood drawn low over his face to keep the pouring rain out of his eyes as he watched over Shay's crew. "We need to do somethin'."
"Yes, but what?" Haytham snapped and fruitlessly tried to shake some of the water out of his saturated overcoat. He shivered and pulled it tighter around himself. It was a cold, driving rain that chilled him to the bones. The storm was getting worse, and that worried him. Ever since sailing through that storm on board the Providence during his first trip to the New World, Haytham had a healthy respect for foul weather while sailing. Not to mention that it was his first time at the helm in a storm, and keeping his bearings was a lot more difficult than he wanted to admit.
Liam shrugged. "I'd suggest sex, but honestly I don't think that's goin' to work this time." He said after a while of watching the grey, choppy seas before them.
"Do you know anything about this 'Therese' woman that we're after?" Haytham grumbled, flinching slightly as a particularly loud, echoing roar of thunder passed.
"No, not really." Liam told him. "Only that – Shite! Turn her hard to port! Brace! Everyone down!" Liam yelled and grabbed onto the railing for dear life. Haytham heard the deafening roar of the rogue wave that had come out of literally nowhere before he saw it. The only thought in his mind was that Shay hadn't gone over this while teaching him how to sail.
"Haytham we need to hit that wave head-on, or that monster'll sink us! Hard to port! Harder, damn it!" Liam barked. The crew scrambled to find something, anything, to hold on to as Haytham steered the Morrigan so hard that the lower deck dipped into the water and she almost tipped over. He nearly lost his footing as the ship righted herself, just before hitting the massive wall of water. Most of the deck was submerged for a moment as they partially passed through it, rather than over it. If Haytham thought he was wet before, now he was soaking wet. He hardly had time to think of it, as the Morrigan reached the crest of the wave, she tipped straight down and Haytham actually did slip this time – smashing his head right into the Morrigan's wheel. The pain almost knocked him out cold, but somehow he managed to keep conscious and regain his balance as the Morrigan's heaving deck finally leveled out.
"That was too close." Liam whined after a fit of coughing up seawater. Somehow, all of the crew managed to hang on as well. "Haytham, are you - Mills! Get your arse up here!" Liam yelled, barely audible about the roar of the choppy waves that were growing steadily worse. Haytham shook his head, which was positively throbbing and wiped away the water that was trickling down the side of his head from his hair, only it something wasn't right. Why was it warm? Oh, he thought to himself when he saw his hand covered in blood, that would be why.
"Take the tiller!" Liam shouted to Mills as he steered Haytham in the direction of Shay's cabin. Liam threw open the door and Haytham staggered in behind him, not entirely sure if the heaving the deck below his feet was the storm or a concussion.
"Sit." Liam ordered, pointing at the (somehow) still upright chair in front of Shay's desk. Shay was dragging himself out from underneath the other one that had obviously tipped over with him still in it, and then been buried in a pile of books from the shelf behind him. Connor was also there, as Liam has told him to stay inside until they got out of the storm. He unhelpfully picked up a book, one of Shay's old Captain's logs, and started reading it.
"...The fuck was that?" Shay mumbled, a lot more coherently that Haytham thought him capable of in his current state.
"Biggest rogue wave I've ever seen." Liam grumbled as Haytham lowered himself into the chair.
"It's a bit early in season for storms like this." Shay mused, and paled when he saw Haytham. "That's a lot o' blood..."
"No, Shite." Liam replied, pulling one of Shay's white undershirts from an open drawer. Connor watched with wide eyes and ran to his father's side. Liam gently shooed him toward the other side of the room, and told him to start picking up Shay's books to keep him out of his way.
"Not that one!" Shay complained as Liam pressed the sleeve of the shirt gingerly against the wound just above Haytham's forehead to soak up some of the blood. "There's towels, you know..."
"You're a lot less drunk that I thought you'd be." Liam commented, examining the injury a little more closely. Shay scoffed but didn't reply. "Sorry, Lady Bird, but this is definitely goin' to leave a scar." Liam added to Haytham. Haytham ignored both of them, not entirely sure he'd ever been quite this miserable. At least he hadn't been soaked to the skin and half frozen when Lucio stabbed his sorry arse.
"Aye, well... Give me a minute, we need some thread to sew that closed." Shay mumbled, followed by the sound of him rifling through one of the desk drawers. Haytham took a shaky breath and wished they'd give him a blanket and let him bleed to death in peace. Somehow, he wasn't sure he trusted Shay or Liam with first aid. Unconsciously, he leaned into the solid warmth of Liam's body that was pressed against his shoulder.
"Give me that, just hold him steady." Liam ordered, and Haytham felt the familiar touch of Shay's calloused hands on his cheek replace Liam's, as he gently tilted his head to the proper angle. By the time Liam was done cleaning and dressing the wound, Haytham was vacantly wondering if he had ever considered a career in torture and extortion. He was almost certain that he had whimpered like a little girl at some point, and the only thing holding him upright was Shay's firm grip on him.
"I'll get him cleaned up and into something dry, you go make sure Mills doesn't kill us all. This storm is a nasty one and you're the best sailor here." Liam told Shay, who grunted something unintelligible in response and placed a soft kiss on Haytham's forehead before leaving. Haytham immediately missed the comfort of his presence. He leaned back in the chair with a weary sigh as he listened to Liam digging through Shay's dresser drawers.
"You'll want to bottom one." Haytham mumbled, realizing that Liam was probably well aware that Haytham's own clothes were probably stashed somewhere given the nature of his relationship with Shay. Liam said something under his breath and tossed a pile of clothes onto Shay's desk.
"We need to get you out of those." Liam said in a tone that suggested he was far less than thrilled by the idea of undressing Haytham.
"I can do it myself; go." Haytham groaned and stood up. He would have hit the floor like a sack of potatoes had Liam not caught him on pure reflex. How he managed not to vomit from the way his head spun, Haytham would never know. "Perhaps not." He added groggily, and tried to extricate himself from Liam who firmly shoved him back into the chair. Liam didn't say a word as he began undoing the belts and clasps on Haytham's coat, other than muttering something along the lines of 'too many fucking buttons'.
"I have to give you some credit", Liam said as he slipped Haytham's undershirt off and tossed it on the floor in a corner with his coat, "for someone who's absolute shite at sailin', you did all right back there." Haytham made no particular effort to reply, and nearly choked on his own breath as Liam undid the lacing on his pants. Why was he so nervous? It wasn't like there was anything sexual about the situation. He decided to settle on not being particularly fond of being so vulnerable and alone with a former enemy. Anything else, and he'd have to literally drown himself in Shay's rum.
"All right, stand up – slowly." Liam directed, hauling Haytham unsteadily to his feet. He held his breath as Liam pulled off his pants and patted him dry with a towel. Getting the dry clothes on was much easier and Haytham did it himself for the most part, aside from leaning heavily on Liam as he hobbled over to Shay's bed.
"Get some rest. You'll be fine in a bit." Liam said and threw the covers over him.
When Haytham finally woke God only knows how many hours later, the sea was calm. The pain in his head was a dull throbbing, which was irritating but not incapacitating. He could make out the muffled sounds of the crew singing a shanty, as well as Shay and Liam speaking quietly within the cabin.
"What are our plans for reaching London, anyway?" Liam asked uncertainly. "The Morrigan can't carry enough supplies to make the trip."
"Aye, I know. That's why we're stoppin' in Boston. One o' my boys has a couple o' frigates we took from the French. He's a tea merchant, sort of. Actually he's a fence and a smuggler, but the Order needs money and reliable couriers. His crew makes regular trips across the pond, and they won't mind changin' the schedule a bit to get us there." Shay explained.
Haytham sat up slowly and yawned. He felt a bit groggy, but relatively functional. "Where in London is that we are going, exactly? I never asked." He inquired.
"I can't say, I've never been there. All I have is a basic map and some coordinates." Shay replied. Haytham sighed and stood beside Liam, who was leaning against the desk and studying the map. It certainly was the most basic map of London Haytham had ever seen. Only the different districts were marked, and a couple of ports along the Thames. He doubted it was even a recent map.
"That's the place the coordinates lead to." Liam told him, pointing a spot on the map.
"...But that's smack in the middle of the Thames." Haytham replied incredulously. "Or, perhaps under it."
"That was what I was thinkin'." Shay interjected. "One o' the precursor temples listed in the Voynich manuscript was supposed to be under water near Port Au Prince. It could be far below the city."
"Aye, that's the one Mackandal's men accidentally destroyed." Liam commented. "We don't even know what this one is, though. We need to be cautious. This whole damn thing could be a trap; there might not even be a precursor site."
"Aye, and we need to support the foremast with something." Shay whined. "A good gust o' wind will take it right down."
"What?" Haytham asked, frowning.
"The foremast splintered at the base when we hit that wave. It's still intact, but it needs to be replaced." Liam supplied when Shay ignored them both and headed back out to the deck. Haytham hurried after him, a little surprised by how mild the weather was. How had it gone from being a horrid storm, to a temperate summer day? Unless...
"Shay, how long was I asleep?" Haytham asked as they made their way toward the damaged mast.
"Four days." Shay answered. "We're almost to Boston; The storm threw us off course a bit."
"Four days?!" Haytham said in exasperation as Shay stared at the badly splintered wood at the base of the mast. It was definitely a mess, Haytham couldn't fathom what was actually holding it up.
"...Some of the spare wood from the hold. Maybe we can make a temporary brace." Shay mumbled to himself, leaning his weight against it to test its strength. The whole thing swayed slightly. "...Might not be enough to hold it." It dawned on Haytham that Shay was ignoring him, probably hoping he'd go someplace else.
"Do we need to talk?" He asked.
Shay spun around and regarded him in silence for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." He glanced around as if to make sure the crew were all out of earshot. "It's not Mary. I thought it about it, and it hurt at first, but as far as I knew she'd died years ago. I didn't even remember her. I haven't even thought o' her since long before I joined up with the Assassins."
"Then, what is it?" Haytham asked insistently, knowing damn well that he'd never get a straight answer if he allowed Shay to be evasive.
"It..." He looked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was listening. And spoke in a hushed whisper when he answered "Liam. I can't stop thinking about how badly I just want to fuck him senseless! But dammit, I know I can't and shouldn't want to!"
In spite of himself, Haytham laughed – hysterically. Haytham wasn't sure which was funnier the passion with which Shay said it, or the fact that he had to whisper it like a child trying to misbehave in class.
"Fuck's sake! Stop laughin' or I'll kick you in the hams!" Shay swore, looking across that deck at Liam, who was watching Haytham with raised eyebrows and a bit of a smirk.
"Well, I can't blame you really. He has a such a lovely arse." Haytham whispered in Shay's ear once he'd managed to compose himself. Shay stared at him in utter disbelief. Haytham nearly had a crisis wondering exactly where the remark had come from. Sure, Liam could be considered an attractive man; Haytham wasn't blind. But he didn't usually think about men that way, either – only Shay.
"I'd ask if you hit your head, but..."
"I do believe the fact that I hit my head has been well-established." Haytham retorted and ruffled Shay's hair affectionately.
"Whatever you say, you bloody hell cat." Shay grumbled and shook his head. "D'you have any actual advice, O almighty Grandmaster?"
Haytham thought about it for a moment and realized that, no, he didn't have a clue how to handle it. While the very thought of Shay even looking in Liam's direction with lust in his eyes made Haytham want to kill both of them, he knew that was hardly a mature way to think about it. There was one thing he could come up with, but the thought of it made his skin crawl. Still, how could he judge Shay? What if the boot was on the other foot?
"Believe me, I would rather poison Liam's bloody tea than suggest this, but... Maybe just once... You could..." Haytham grimaced and looked away from the scandalized look on Shay's face.
"Are you serious? That's your plan?" Shay asked, eyes wide.
"I think all three of us need to sit down, like the adults we claim to be, and discuss this." Haytham hissed under his breath and glanced in Liam's direction. He and Martin were laughing at some silly anecdote that one of the crewmen was telling them.
"I think that will end badly." Shay said icily and looked out over the ocean to avoid meeting his eyes.
"Probably." Haytham agreed.
Lady Bird – A pretty young lady. Or a total slut; I've seen it used a few ways.
Hams – breeches, technically. I've also seen it used as slang for balls.
Hell Cat – a very lewd, misbehaved woman.