Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

Edward resented the fact that it was sunny. It should not be sunny, not on this day. Nature should reflect the darkness in his heart and the sky should weep so his own tears could hide among the rain. Alas, nature stubbornly refused to be depressed, despite the fact that he was.

Edward also wanted the fucking priest to shut the hell up! Tessa was dead and she didn't care what the Lord said or cares about. Hell she didn't even care that she left behind a husband and a son. The dead didn't care about such things, they didn't care about those they left behind. The dead were heartless sons of bitches, the lot of them. The priest finished his rambling —finally! — Haytham dressed up in an infant's suit and very unhappy about the entire thing began to squirm in Edward's arms. Ádewalé, Thatch, Jack, Ben, Charlie, and that one bloke from Tessa's office, slowly began to lower the glossy black casket with white roses atop it, into the ground. Anne got up to the mic and in her sweet Irish lilted voice began to sing The Parting Glass.

Edward didn't gasp in big heaving sobs. He stood there, watching as his wife's cold body slipped further and further away. The tears came unbidden, rolling down his cheeks in silence. He wanted to scream, to shout, to curse her and God and the universe and everything! Hell, he wanted to join her. Maybe he should, he had enough booze back at the house to drink himself to death. It would be so easy too: Turn the TV on and get the rum and just drink until everything became numb and the pain finally, finally, went away. Nobody would care, hell, they'd probably understand!

He felt a touch on his cheek.

Edward turned his head and saw Haytham, staring at him with slate colored eyes, the wind ruffling his baby fine golden brown hair. He sucked on his lower lip and patted Edward's cheek again.

Right… Haytham… his son. His son would care, his son would be all alone, an orphan, unable to understand why his parents left him. Edward put his hand on his son's head. "Don't worry Haytham," Edward whispered, "I won't abandon you. I promise nothing bad will ever happen to you." It was a promise he meant to keep.

He kept that promise, right up until yesterday, when Lucy took his son. "How ya doing?" Anne asked, coming to sit with him on the couch, a mug of tea in her hands. Edward sighed, staring blankly at the morning news on the TV. The determination he felt last night had dwindled upon waking. Now he just felt exhausted.

"I just feel empty inside," Edward said, "like some great hand just ripped out all my inners."

Anne nodded, sipping her tea. "I know. I felt that way after Sean died."

"Sean?"

"My son… Mary never did tell you… did she?" Anne asked, at Edward's befuddled look Anne smiled, a sad smile. "Thought not. Mary… she's not the one to dwell on such things. We… we wanted a family, so we used a fertility clinic. I got pregnant, and carried to term… we had a little boy… Sean… for about a week before he died suddenly." Anne bit her lip. "We… we don't know how… he… he just didn't wake up the next morning."

"Oh, Anne… I'm sorry," Edward whispered. Anne wiped her eyes.

"Don't be Edward. It happened… a good while ago. Mary and I have learned to cope with our grief… we eventually tried again… once the pain stopped being so raw… Mary ended up miscarrying. We decided that it was God's way of saying we weren't meant to be parents."

"That's bullshit! Just because you two are lovers—"

"Edward," Anne said, putting a hand on his arm. "We know, and we thank you. Why do you think we dote on Haytham? He may not be our son, but we're the mother he'll never have." Anne's smile was sad and kind.

"Do you think… I can get him back?" Edward asked softly, staring into his coffee cup. After Tessa's death he easily drank almost every night. Until Mary locked the liquor cabinet and took the key with her, telling him that was no way to raise a child. That's when he started drinking coffee. It was a poor substitute. Now, Haytham was gone and Edward didn't feel much like drinking. He didn't even think he had the energy to drink.

"Of course Edward," Anne said, rubbing Edward's arm. "That social worker said it wasn't forever and you are a good father."

"I try Anne, I try."

"That's all any of us can do," Anne agreed, looking up when the door opened. "Mary, hi." Anne waved at her wife.

"Edward," Mary said, closing the door and eyeing her friend. "Why are you still not dressed?"

"'Lo, Mary," Edward greeted, raising his coffee up to her. "I just… Haytham's gone and—"

"He's not gonna fall out of the sky into your lap! We had a plan last night to get him back!" Mary shouted, marching up to Edward. "Where you encouraging him Anne?"

"Mary," Anne said, getting up and steering Mary into the kitchen. "Look, I know you are trying to help and—"

"Don't lecture me, Anne! He needs to get his act together if he wants to get Haytham back, I'm just trying to help."

"Edward knows that, and he understands that, but acting like a psychotic drill sergeant isn't going to make him move any faster," Anne said, "he's still processing everything. You know he's determine to get Haytham back."

"He's just sitting there in his undershirt and boxers like a lump on the log!" Mary hissed, gesturing to Edward.

"Uhm… I can still hear you two," Edward called from his seat on the couch.

"Edward!" Anne and Mary shouted. Edward sipped his coffee. "But my point is that if you keep nagging him, he'll just shut down. I mean… even I can't really believe Haytham's gone. I keep expecting him to walk through that door…" Anne muttered, glancing at the front door.

"Well he's not," Mary snipped. "That stupid social worker bitch took him, and if Edward doesn't change his course then he'll never get him back."

"Mary, please just relax. Let's get something to eat then we'll do—"

"No! Edward needs to get his ass in gear, Anne. I'm not going to lose another child or so help me I—"

"Sean is dead, Mary!" Anne shouted. "And so is that baby you lost. They are dead. Haytham is Edward's son, not ours. Please… I know it hurts and I know it's frustrating. I live with the pain every day, but we can't… we can't let it spill over now. Not when Edward needs us the most."

Mary turned to face Anne. "Just before you forgot doesn't mean I won't."

Anne's face drained of color. "How dare you say that I forgot our son's death! I was the one that found him. In his crib… as if he was sleeping… just like he was when I checked on him earlier. I found our son dead Mary!" Anne hissed.

Edward sighed, getting up from the couch and walking over to the two women. "Hey, Anne, Mary," he said, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. "Stop it." He hugged them both. "Don't fight. Please don't fight. I can't take it right now. I'm sorry Sean is dead… I'm sorry you lost that baby Mary, but…" he looked at them, "I'm barely hanging on. I just want to… it feels so hopeless and if you two start fighting then… well, I don't want to think about it."

Mary and Anne sighed, returning Edward's hug. "Sorry, Edward… it's just… with Haytham gone…" Mary trailed off, unable to meet Edward's gaze.

"We remember our struggles with… having a family," Anne whispered. Edward nodded, running his hand through his hair.

"No. I understand," Edward said, letting them go and grabbing his coffee cup. He trained the contents in two gulps. "Alright. Let's do this," Edward said.

"Good, get dress and we're going shopping!" Mary said, a wicked good grin on her face. Edward swallowed, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Anne?" he looked at Anne, who chuckled.

"We're going to get you a suit."

Yes, Edward decided, this is hell. I've entered hell. Thankfully, he was spared by a knock on the door. He grabbed his robe off the arm of the couch, hastily put it on before answering the door. "Ziio," he said, surprised to see the little Mohawk girl. "What brings you here?"

"Is Haytham home?" Ziio asked. "I saw a strange care outside your house yesterday and it drove off. Mom said you and Haytham were having issues, so… we left," Ziio said, looking at her feet. "Can you tell him I'm sorry I missed his party."

Edward smiled sadly, rubbing his face. "Of course sweetheart. He was really looking forward to seeing you."

"Really?" Ziio perked up, "I mean. Oh. Cool. Uh… here can you give him this? It's his birthday present." Ziio said, handing Edward the wrapped box. "It's a dreamcatcher. I made it myself."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Edward agreed, accepting the gift. The car across the street honked its horn.

"I gotta go," Ziio said, "bye Mr. Kenway! Tell Haytham I stopped by!" Ziio waved and trotted down the driveway, not hearing Edward bid her farewell. She stopped at the edge, dug into her pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. It had her name, new phone number and new address scribbled on it. She glanced back at Haytham's house, then at the car where her mother was waiting. Ziio tucked the bit of paper into her pocket and rejoined her mother in the car.

Haytham sighed, opening his eyes and staring at the unfamiliar white ceiling overhead. It was still there, damn it. Haytham closed his eyes again, willing himself to wake up in his own bed, his father making breakfast with The Eagles playing in the background. Maybe Jenny will ping on skype to wish him a happy belated birthday. Everything will go back to normal, the way it should be. All he had to do was open his eyes and he'll be home.

Haytham opened his eyes again. The ceiling still the unfamiliar one. The bed hard and uncomfortable. The sheets smelled like laundry soap. Only the things he brought from home where familiar. "Let's try it again," Haytham muttered to himself, squeezing his stuffed eagle and closing his eyes. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's not place like home…" he muttered. If it worked for Dorothy then it may work for him.

The door to his room opened up. "Hey, Nathan, are you gonna ever get out of bed? Reginald as breakfast ready."

Haytham snapped his eyes open and sat up. Starrick leaning into his room, one hand on the door handle the other on the frame. "It's Haytham."

"Right," Starrick rolled his eyes, "but get out of bed Heath-tham."

"It's Haytham! How many times to I have to tell you that?" Haytham shouted, flinging the covers off. He marched up to Starrick, who snickered and closed the door with a bang. Haytham yanked it back open and yelled, "and stay out of my room!" before slamming the door. He slid down the door, hugging his knees, his lose hair hiding his face. He sniffed, forcing back the tears, though a few came unbidden. There was no longer a point in trying to will himself back home. He stood, dressed, made this bed before heading downstairs.

Starrick was sitting there, watching Saturday morning cartoons, while Birch was at the stove humming as he cooked. "Morning," Haytham greeted, his tone melancholy. Birch turned around, a wide grin on his face.

"Good morning! Good morning!" he said. He was dressed in a burgundy button down shirt and khaki slacks with a lilac apron. Haytham's eyes grew wide, the color combination was horrid, but upon the apron there were neon pink unicorns with little sequins for eyes and hooves. Haytham looked at the pancakes, shaped like prancing unicorns. A mix of syrup and melted butter oozed off the horns.

"Uh… Unicorns?" Haytham asked.

"Oh, yes," Birch said, removing another unicorn shaped pancake. Haytham took his seat at the table, accepting the plate of newly made pancakes. He poured syrup over them and sliced some butter. Haytham pushed the butter around the pancake, watching it melt. He cut off the head of the unicorn and ate it. "I'll be showing you around the house. I also made arrangements to get whatever school work you'll be missing from your teacher. I'm a principal at the high school, so I'll be able to pick it up after school. Don't worry, you won't fall behind, I hired a tutor. Mr. Fayling, and old friend of mine."

"Great," Haytham muttered.

"But it's only for a few days, Christmas break starts soon, end of next week?" Birch asked.

"Something like that," Haytham muttered, watching Birch set a glass of orange juice before his plate.

"Cheer up Haytham," Birch said, taking the pan off the heat and turning the stove off. He sat down next to Haytham and patted him on the back. "Everything will work out. It's a pity that this happened so close to Christmas, but I'm sure you'll see your father again. I can't imagine him wanting you to be a ward of the state."

"Or you can just give me back," Haytham said, "my father is a good man. He takes really good care of me. He always had!"

"I understand Haytham," Birch sighed, sipping his coffee, "but I don't make the rules. Hurry up and finish your breakfast. I want to show you the rest of the house."

"Fine," Haytham said, cutting up his unicorn pancakes. "Can I see my father for Christmas?"

"I'll talk to Mrs. Miles, see what she has to say," Birch said, picking up the empty plates. Haytham made himself eat a few more bites before handing the plate off to Birch. "You know, not eating will only delay things, and possibly get you sent to another foster home."

"Thanks for letting me know," Haytham muttered, "but I'm just not hungry." He rested his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands, watching Birch move around the kitchen. It took the man only a few minutes to straighten everything up.

"Alright, I'll show you the rest of the house." Birch said, taking off that horrible apron. "This way."

Haytham sighed, following the man about, he glanced over his shoulder as Starrick turned off the TV. The other boy followed them. Most of the house, Haytham didn't really care about as it was like any other house, though there were a fair amount of unicorn statues and unicorn motifs about, which Haytham found odd. "This is my room, and you already know where yours is, and this room is Crawford's," Birch said pointing to each room.

"And this room?" Haytham asked, pointing to the plain white door. It seemed odd that the door was closed.

"Oh, that room is my private study," Birch said, a broad grin appeared on his face. "See," he opened the door. Haytham's jaw dropped, for in the room was every possible thing relating to unicorns. From My Little Pony and The Last Unicorn, to porcelain statues and a large painting.

"Is that you?" Haytham asked, pointing to the painting of a man with flowing brown hair, a toga about his waist, astride a majestic looking unicorn.

"Yes," Birch said with a touch of pride in his voice. "That is me, and it's my favorite painting. Come have a closer look." Birch lead Haytham to the painting. "It's magnificent."

It's stupid, Haytham thought. "Uh… yeah, very erm… regal."

"Oh, you think so? I do too," Birch said.

"Why did you have to encourage him," Starrick hissed behind Haytham, who turned and shot the other boy a glare. "Now he'll be rambling about it for a good twenty minutes."

"Well, what was I supposed to say? What I honestly thought?"

"Anything is better than listening to him ramble on about unicorns."

"…and they mocked me!" Birch said, impassioned, he turned to Haytham and grabbed him by his shoulders, giving him a little shake. "They mocked me Haytham! These men that would have been my scientific colleagues! They said that unicorns are fairytales, and that they were never real! I left the doctorate program after that, I could not in good judgement continue to pursue my education in zoology if I was going to get laughed at by members of academia!"

"See, I toldja," Starrick whispered, though there was a smirk on his face. Haytham glowered at him, knowing Starrick was enjoying Haytham's suffering too much.

"…I'll prove them all wrong!" Birch spun away then, arms akimbo as he stared at his unicorn painting. "I'll find a real unicorn… a live unicorn and show them all! They'll grovel at my feet and my name will go down in biology books! Reginald Birch, the man that proved the existence of unicorns!"

Haytham covered up his laughter with a hasty snort. He clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing that Birch was serious about that. That he was convinced fully of his own delusion. And Lucy said he was the best foster parent in the system. Haytham made a mental note to talk to Lucy when she came and checked up on him. There had to be something about being unhealthily obsessed with unicorns to qualify as child endangerment. "Is that a narwh—"

"Don't!" Starrick hissed, pulling Haytham away. "That's a 'unicorn horn'," Starrick said, jerking his head to the encased narwhal horn below the painting.

"But it's a narwhal horn. I've seen a picture of one before," Haytham pointed out.

"It's a unicorn horn, and you will refer to it as a unicorn horn, unless you want to listen to Birch lecture on how they are just mistaken and that the narwhale is the aquatic form of a unicorn."

"I thought a unicorn was a horned horse?"

"Do not ask me to unravel the mind of a madman," Starrick huffed, heading out of the room. "You wanna come? He's done with the tour for now."

"Won't he notice we're gone?" Haytham asked, looking back at Birch, who was still lecturing about how he was going to prove the entire scientific community wrong.

"Nah, he'll be at it for a few more minutes. I'm going to watch TV."

"Well, I'm going to go back to my room," Haytham said, following Starrick out of the unicorn room. He watched as the other boy headed down the stairs, before he headed to his room. Haytham closed the door behind him. He walked over to his bag and fished out the leather pouch Ziio made him. He traced the beadwork, smiling as he thought about her. He wondered what she was doing now. She'd probably laugh at Birch and tell him flat out that he's an idiot for believing in unicorns.

He pulled his journal out, along with his pen, flipped to a new page and began to write. Though this time, after the date, he started his entry with Dear Ziio…

"How's it going, princess?" Edward asked, sitting down before the laptop. Jenny was on the other end, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. "You going to come home for Christmas?"

"Of course, Dad, though I'll be visiting Mum first, then you and Haytham," Jenny said. "How is Haytham, by the way? I got some cool books on swords and fencing for him. I'm sorry I didn't send one for his birthday, but there was no time for me to go down to the post office."

"Haytham… Haytham's fine, Jenny," Edward said, rubbing his face. "I'm sure he won't mind it being late. You're his sister, so he'll forgive you."

"Are you alright, Dad? You look tired."

"I'm always tired, sweetheart, working nights."

"Well, you look more tired than usual. Is everything alright," Jenny asked, "you aren't keeping secrets from me now."

Edward chuckled, remembering when Caroline would ask him such questions. "You look so much like your mother."

"Dad," Jenny chided, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Don't try to change the subject!"

"With her wit too."

"Dad!"

Edward laughed. "Alright," he finally caved, "there is something wrong."

"Oh, no. Did Haytham break his arm?"

"No, no. Haytham's hale and hearty…" Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I lost my job a few weeks ago, bar fight I got involved in. Jackass pressed charges, they were dropped, but my former employer is being investigated for interstate drug dealing, human trafficking and prostitution. Social services came and took Haytham away."

"What? No!" Jenny shouted, hands covering her mouth. "How could they take Haytham away!"

"Because I have a criminal record and I'm going to be interviewed to see if I had anything to do with these charges my former boss is facing. It's all one big fucking mess Jen."

"Oh, Daddy…"

"You haven't called me daddy in years," Edward whispered. "Do you remember, you probably don't, but during divorce, your mother had to make a trip to visit her folks up in New York. She didn't want to take you, I think you were around three or four, so I got to watch you for a few weeks. We had tea parties every day, and I told you stories of pirate princes saving princesses."

"Did you dress up for these tea parties?"

"Of course," Edward said, throwing back his shoulders a bit. "I was Mrs. Merryweathers. I even let you do my hair and make-up. I think Thatch has a few pictures from then, I'll ask and see if I can't send them to ya."

"Dad, I don't need to remember embarrassing baby photos," Jenny laughed. "You hang in there okay? I'm sure you'll get Haytham back."

"I've only really had a handful of worse days in my life. The day your mother left me, the day I lost joint custody of you, and the day Tessa died."

"And now you have the day they took Haytham away to add to the depressing list," Jenny mumbled.

"Yeah," Edward agreed. "You have a pretty good accent now Jenny. Lost your New York twang."

"I know," Jenny chuckled, "I have to come home and get my Yank back on."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying London."

"Oh it's amazing, Dad! Will you and Haytham come and visit this summer?"

"Maybe," Edward said, "I should let you go. I'm sure it's getting late over there."

"Not that late, but I do have school tomorrow," Jenny said. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to the screen. Edward did the same. "Bye Daddy, I'll call tomorrow."

"Right, text me so I'll know."

"Of course. Anyway, night," Jenny said and broke the connection. Edward sighed, closing the program and the laptop before standing up. He showered, brushed his teeth, trimmed his beard, and stared at the suit hanging on his door. Tomorrow, he had an interview, thanks to Thatch, at a hotel that Thatch had… dealings with. Ádewalé made arrangements for someone to cover his shift at the auto shop. Edward glanced at the suit once more. Tomorrow… things will look better tomorrow.

Long chapter is long. And depressing.

So, I realized that I should've included Jenny as a little girl in the first chapters, then introduced Haytham. Alas, it didn't happen. Oh well. So, I'm planning a short spin-off series called "Edward Kenway's Guide to Child Rearing: The Jenny Chronicles" or something like that. Which will cover the few weeks, Jenny was in Edward's care when Caroline was out of town. Of course, this plan could just turn into a very long one shot. Not sure yet.

Also, Birch and his unicorn room finally make an appearance. I tried making this an Edward focus chaptered but… irunno. I just really enjoy writing Haytham. More Edward and Haytham in the next chapter. Next chapter will have Starrick being a little shit.

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If you don't, Connor will cry. Do you seriously want to be the reason for Connor's tears? Hmm!

-Nemo