Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

Birch shivered as he unlocked the door to his house. "Mr. Fayling?" he called, as he entered. "Haytham?" there was no answer. He walked into the living room to see Fayling on the couch, asleep. "Mr. Fayling," Birch muttered, nudging the man's foot. The man jerked awake, white hair fluffed around his head.

"Oh, Reginald," he said, "your back."

"Yes," Reginald gave a brittle smile, "where's Haytham?" Mr. Fayling glanced about the room before shrugging.

"Try his room," Mr. Fayling said. Birch nodded. "Well, I'm going to head off." The old man stood, stretched, and gathered up his things.

"Haytham wasn't too much trouble was he?" Birch asked.

"Oh, no." Mr. Fayling said, "Haytham is a rather quiet child. Well, after Christmas then?" Mr. Fayling picked up his briefcase and left the house. Birch glanced up the stairs.

"Haytham? Haytham are you up there?" Birch called, but silence met him. Frowning, he climbed the stairs and knocked on the door to Haytham's room. "Haytham? Haytham are you in there?"

"Go away," Haytham called. Birch frowned, tried the handle only to find it wasn't locked and opened the door a crack. He noted that Haytham was sitting in front of it. "I said go away."

"I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine, now leave me alone," Haytham spat and pushed the door close with a resounding snap. Birch frowned and opened the door again. "I said I was fine, didn't you—"

"I heard," Birch said, forcing the door open and Haytham to move. The boy retreated to the center of his room, shoving a piece of paper into his pocket. "I don't appreciate being treated like that Haytham. I know I'm not your father, but I do expect you to show me a certain amount of respect while you are living under my roof," Birch said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Birch," Haytham muttered.

"Reginald, please," Birch said with a little smile. "Now, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Where's Starrick?"

"At a friend's house until Sunday," Birch said, glancing around Haytham's bare room. He noticed the chess board on the top shelf. "Do you play chess?"

"I know how to play," Haytham said, slowly. "My father taught me, but he's not very good. I mostly play with my Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch."

"Your Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch?" Birch arched a brow. "I wasn't aware your father had brothers."

"They're not really my uncles," Haytham explained, watching as Birch went over to the shelf and pulled down the chest set. "They're friends of my father's. I just call them Uncle Ben and Uncle Thatch. We play chess when they babysits me."

"I see, so what was your home life like?" Birch asked, setting down on the floor and patting it for Haytham to join him. Haytham plopped onto the floor, staring at his feet. He noted that one sock had a hole in it. He'd need to ask Birch for needle and thread to fix it. "Haytham?"

"It was okay," Haytham finally said. "Father worked a lot, but he found time for me. His friends… my aunts and uncles, would watch me and fill in when he couldn't be around."

"Where's your mother?" Birch asked, setting up the pieces. "I can't imagine—"

"No, you can't," Haytham snapped, looking up at Birch, with slate colored eyes filled with pain. "My mother died when I was a year old."

"I'm… I'm sorry, Haytham," Birch muttered. "I can only imagine how difficult her death must've been on your father."

"He started talking about her when I was seven. He showed me a video of her holding me and singing a lullaby. It was the first time I remember hearing her voice."

"White or black?" Birch asked, gesturing to the board.

"Black."

"That means I'm white then," Birch said, turning the board around, "and I have the advantage."

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Haytham muttered. Birch chuckled moving his pawn and watched as Haytham moved his pawn. They played in silence for several minutes, Birch watching as Haytham analyzed the board, taking his time before he moved. Birch took the first piece of the game.

"I told you I have the advantage," Birch said. Haytham felt a smirk curve his lip.

"How do you know I didn't force you to take that pawn?" Haytham asked, flicking his slate eyes up at his foster parent. Birch blinked, leaning back slightly. Then a smile spread across his face.

"Touché," he agreed. They continued to play in silence, more pieces, both white and black, were removed from the board. "Do you like school?" Birch asked as Haytham castled his king. The boy shrugged.

"It's alright," he said, "I find some of the material boring."

"Boring?" Birch asked, studying the board. He moved his knight, taking Haytham's bishop.

"Yeah, like history and math. I'm really good at those subjects. So I find them boring," Haytham said, he studied the board before moving his queen.

"What about friends? Do you have any friends at school?"

"I do," Haytham said.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"No."

"What about… siblings?"

"I have a half-sister," Haytham said, "her name is Jenny. She's twenty-two."

"Oh," Birch replied. "Twenty-two… wow."

"My mother was my father's second wife," Haytham explained. "Jenny is going to school in London to be a fashion designer."

"Ah, interesting. Are there any girls you like at school?" Birch asked. Haytham froze, hand hovering over the piece he was about to move. He looked away. "Haytham?"

"What does it matter," he said morosely. "She's gone now."

"Gone?" Birch asked, confused. "Is she dead?"

"No, she just moved away," Haytham explained, moving his piece. "I guess it's for the best really. We're just kids after all."

"Well," Birch said. "That's… that's rather mature of you Haytham."

"I guess…" Haytham paused, studying the board. He moved his knight. "Check."

"You're sharp," Birch said, an impressed smile on his face. "But I was regional champion in college, and you," Birch moved his queen, taking Haytham's pawn that was directly in front of his king. "My young ward, just have been checkmated."

"What? No." Haytham protested, studying the board. He bit his lip, thinking. "Damn."

"Language," Birch chided. "A gentleman doesn't swear because he lost. A gentleman is a gracious loser."

"How did you do it?" Haytham asked.

"Beat you? While you do have a natural knack for the game, you are still rather young, and like I said, I was regional champion."

"Fine, what's the secret?" Haytham asked.

Birch chuckled. "You sound like Crawford. Wanting to know the secret to success. Well, I'll tell you what I told him. There is no secret to success. The only way to success is hard work and dedication. And knowledge."

"Knowledge?"

"Yes, knowledge is power Haytham. With knowledge you have the power to control your own fate. With knowledge you can even control the fates of others," Birch said, his lips quirking up into a little smile. "If you have the right knowledge that is."

"Oh."

"Haytham, never stop studying. Never stop perusing knowledge. The more you know the more you have control over."

"I… I guess," Haytham muttered.

"You don't want to be stuck in the same rut your father is in, do you?" Birch asked.

"No," Haytham said, thinking about the good will clothes he wore, the used car his father drove, how his father stressed over bills every month, how they'd go over to Aunt Mary and Aunt Anne's for dinner when money was tight and his father stealing gas from the neighbour's car. Everything he hated about his home life came flooding back to him. "I don't want to live like that."

"Then you must educate yourself," Birch said, "for if you don't others will try to control you, and you want to be the one controlling them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Haytham asked.

"Because I see a lot of potential in you Haytham," Birch said, before getting up. "I'll be starting dinner soon, anything specific."

"No," Haytham mumbled, "I'm not really hungry. So whatever you make is fine."

"Very well then," Birch said and headed for the door. He opened it.

"Uh, Reginald," Haytham called out, Birch turned to look at his young ward. "Do you know… what does it feel like to have a broken heart?"

"A broken heart?"

"Yeah," Haytham said, "what does it feel like?"

Birch walked up to the boy and placed a hand on his head. "You know; I don't honestly know. I've never had my heartbroken before."

"But, what about the people at the university that said you were an idiot for wanting to study unicorns?"

Birch chuckled. "My heart wasn't broken, just upset at the narrowmindedness of academia."

"If you never had a broken heart, then how do you know if you have one?"

"Well," Birch said, "I imagine a broken heart would be very painful. It's a special kind of pain, a broken heart. You know the pain the moment you feel it."

"So… people know when they have broken hearts?" Haytham asked.

"Indeed."

"I guess I have one then…" Haytham muttered. Birch frowned, mussing the boy's hair. "How does one fix a broken heart?"

"Love," Birch said, "love is the only cure for a broken heart." Haytham nodded sadly at Birch's words. Birch stood, invited Haytham to aide him in preparing dinner once more before he left the room and the boy to his sorrows.

And the END OF CHAPTER bat hits me over the head. :P

Next chapter will include the long await Starrick vs. Haytham fight, a bittersweet Christmas and other things. I had planned to include the bittersweet Christmas and the fight in this chapter but the fight has been giving me troubles but I think I finally figured it out!

I'll be alternating between this fic and my new Arno/Élise fic called Between Love and Honor, which is set in WWII France. (I know, shameless self-advertising!) So check that one out too! People have been telling me it's really good. :)

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-Nemo