Fragility of boundaries #1 (Shay x Haytham fanfic)

Scream.

A desperate cry for help resounded in his ears, drowned out by the rumbling sound of buildings falling down.

Shay was running. He had jumped off the roof, while rushing ahead at his full speed, just before the construction collapsed, turning the former homestead into a mass grave. His lungs were burning. Every single breath filled them with choking dust hanging in the air, sticking it to his nostrils. He could barely see anything. The world was blurring before his eyes. The man forced his aching body to an even greater effort, knowingly exceeding the boundaries of his own strength.

He heard the scream again, filled with an unimaginable suffering even more.

The hazy shadow of a human figure loomed among the ashes.

"Liam?"

Shay stopped. He looked down at his hands with his eyes immediately widening in a horrified disbelief. They were all covered in blood - warm and sticky, leaking between his fingers and staining the ground beneath his boots with crimson red.

A heavy, nauseating stench of death wafted above the ruins of Lisbon.

There was nowhere to run.

The shadow looked him straight in the eye.

You have become a monster, Shay…

***

"Captain Cormac?"

The former assassin slowly raised his eyelids, blinking several times. The excess of light exploded inside his head with a dull, throbbing pain. "Gist…" he rasped, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes and narrowed them instantly. "Go to hell. Leave me alone."

The first officer didn't seem discouraged by such a rough answer. To be honest, he has known Shay well enough to know that there were some particular reasons behind his behavior. He didn't only mean the nightmares (which he was well aware of anyway), but first and foremost, a gunshot wound, which Shay has been struggling with for almost three days. Neglectfully dressed and certainly infected, it was healing unnaturally slowly, bleeding at every careless movement. As if this wasn't bad enough, he developed a fever, occurring alternating with chills and persistent headache. All this combined with occasional insomnia has made Shay feel exhausted both physically and mentally. Gist understood all this perfectly, but peace of mind was the last thing he would now be able for Shay to provide.

"I'm afraid I can't, captain" he said with sincere regret. "Master Kenway insisted on seeing you." The word 'insisted' combined with the surname 'Kenway' created way too clear message - you cannot refuse.

Still, Shay refused. "Tell him to visit me tomorrow."

"Too late." This voice no longer belonged to Gist.

Shay didn't even have to look at the door - he would recognize this blameless, English accent everywhere - as usual, lined with restrained politeness.

Gist, feeling the Grand Master's eyes fixed on him in a meaningful glance, had quietly slipped out, closing the door behind him and returned on the upper deck without saying a word. Up till now, Haytham Kenway's visits on Morrigan were pretty rare, but when he had received the information, that Shay is in a really bad condition, he arrived as soon as possible and - to the surprise of most of the crew - even decided to stay a bit longer. Truth be told, no one expected such a huge interest from him, but, on the other hand… Shay was undoubtedly his favorite. At every turn he emphasized how great expectations he's been associating with him in the matters of the Order. Gist doubted, however, that his visits were purely officially motivated, but it was only his own, tentative guess.

"Master Kenway…" Shay began, but Haytham immediately silenced him with a gesture and unceremoniously sat on the edge of the bedside chair. "How do you feel?" he asked without preamble, predicting the answer he was going to hear.

The former assassin grimaced with a bitter half-smile. "Very well, sir" he said, with his voice still reduced to a rasp. "Why do you ask?"

"Cynical as always" Haytham commented in a mock rebuke, crossing his legs.

"I learn from the best" This time Shay's smile has become a little bit more honest, but disappeared soon after he tried to lift slightly at his elbows. Shay quietly hissed through his teeth and fell back on the bed, feeling the impulse of shooting pain spreading from the wound above the right clavicle.
Haytham slightly narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the Irishman. Shay really began to be mad at Gist for letting the Grand Master of the Templar Order see him in such pathetic condition. The last, which he would wish at the moment was for anyone to take pity on him, and certainly not someone like Haytham Kenway...

The room sank into silence. There was only the monotonous sound of the waves crashing on the side of the ship. Haytham opened his mouth first.

" Will you please tell me what happened?" he asked, glancing pointedly at the bandage soaked with fresh blood. "Gist says that two days ago you've barely gotten to the ship, bleeding from the shoted arm and didn't tell him a word, except the order to stand at the helm."

"It's those filthy bastards..." Shay growled. Haytham had no doubt that he was talking about the assassins. " They knew that I was on the trail of the Manuscript."

The Templar Master frowned. "Did they prepare an ambush?"

"Aye, Sir" Shay replied, coughing. "But it doesn't matter anymore. They're all dead."

"I wouldn't expect anything else" Haytham muttered gruffly. "Still, one of them managed to hurt you..."

Shay didn't answer. This conversation was annoying him more and more. He pursed his lips, avoiding looking into the blue-gray eyes. Master's words acted on him like the hit of a whip - he suddenly felt like a child with a bruised knee, who's being reminded of his own obvious mistakes and told to be more careful next time and not to cause trouble.

Haytham must have seen a change on his face, since he involuntarily mellowed. "I didn't intend to hurt your pride, Shay" he said quietly, surprised by the fact that he was excusing his own words to his subordinate. Haytham Kenway wasn't a man who would look for anything to explain himself - excuses are the domain of those who don't understand the essence of their actions - they are characteristic of the weak. Haytham was never the weak one. It seemed to him that no one would be able to break through the mask of cool distance, which he carefully worked out over the years. Too overt displays of emotion were nothing more than just facilitating the task of those who would like to destroy him. People's loaylity lasts as long as they feel respect. And respect commands the one, about whom they know he will not hesitate to shoot them in the head when they start to act against his will. Respect cannot be achieved by sensitivity and remorse. Haytham knew it all well. He knew, and yet hasn't bitten his tongue. "I'm just worried about you." He has said these words significantly faster than he could think them through and immediately regretted opening his mouth, encountering the Irishman's surprised look.

He's worried about me? Shay repeated in his mind, not knowing how he should react to that unexpected, and so unlike Kenway, openness. Before he could say anything, Haytham decided to save him from this dilemma.

"You're more precious to us than you think, Shay" he said, surprisingly smoothly returning to his usual, balanced tone. " You know how much the Order owes you. Never forget that."

" I wouldn't dare to, Sir."

"Good for you." Haytham nodded approvingly. Such a response he expected, even if it was just a neat maneuver to cut an uncomfortable topic. The Grand Master rose from his chair, brushing off the coat, then slowly walked to the door, reaching for the door handle.

"Ah, one more thing." He turned, his piercing gaze resting again on Shay's pale and tired face. "I allowed myself to force your crew to change the course. Currently we're sailing to the nearest port and I don't even want to hear it's a waste of time." His eyes narrowed slightly in a warning. "You need a doctor, whether you like it or not. I see what condition you're in, but anyway, I have to admit that you look a bit better than yesterday."

The former assassin shuddered. " How long have you been on Morrigan, Sir?" He blinked, confused.

"Since yesterday's evening. Gist had let me see you, though he warned that you've probably fallen asleep finally. I didn't want to wake you up, so I decided to wait with talk until morning."

"Thank you for understanding, Sir..." Shay choked out after a while, more than ever having an impression that Haytham hardly enforced himself to this seemingly indifferent tone.

Kenway waved his thanks aside as if it was something completely obvious. "The only form of gratitude I want from you now is your full recovery. Gist has ceded me his cabin, so if you need anything, I'll be next door " he said, then left, without waiting for any response from Cormac, leaving him with more thoughts crowding his mind. He was mostly the cause of them.

It took a while before Shay realized that he was staring blankly at the closed door. Haytham's words reminded him of one of those things he tried to forget. They reminded him of Liam. He was the one that brought him to the Brotherhood... They were in their teens then. During one of the novitiate trainings, when Shay had to perform his first leap of faith, Liam smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his shoulder. "Just close your eyes and jump. Imagine that I'm right beside you" he said.

Shay immediately felt a tightness in his stomach. He wanted to laugh hysterically. The same Liam - his loyal, wonderful Liam turned out to be the first one who decided to send him a farewell bullet in the head. At first, Shay sincerely regretted that Liam didn't kill him then. Death seemed to be a way better option than life of a traitor, hunted by people he used to call 'brothers', however, joining the ranks of the Templar Order changed everything. The victim became a hunter. Shay realized that Haytham himself gave him many reasons to live by inducting him into the Colonial Rite and, contrary to appearances, revenge wasn't the most important one. The Grand Master made sure to make Shay feel needed and appreciated as never before.

Through Shay's mind flashed the thought that Haytham's excess of concern might possibly bring more good than harm. Maybe his unexpected sincerity was actually a well-considered maneuver? Even if it wasn't - Shay had no choice but to try to get rid of his pride and wait. Since the Master decided to bring him back to the state of a relative usability, there was no point in any objection.
The Irishman felt a twinge of an unhealthy curiosity. He wondered if there was something else, except his usefulness for the Order, what made Haytham devote his precious time to him. Maybe it was the right time to find out.

Show me how much you care then, Master Kenway.