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The water was shockingly cool after the heated air inside the warehouse, his skin breaking out into goosebumps as it soaked through his layers. Haytham felt Connor release him and surfaced with a gasp. The air smelt of cinders and gunpowder, but it was distant, the immediate danger gone. He pulled himself out of the water with ease, but saw Connor struggling to do the same as his grip on the wall faltered, causing him to slip back with a quiet splash and a soft whine of desperation. Haytham reached down and grasped his forearm, pulling Connor onto the bank where he lay panting and shivering.
“Connor?” He’d seen plenty of people crash when their adrenaline wore off, but this was different. His son didn’t look exhausted, he looked terrified, his pupils blown wide and his breath coming out in soft pants. Haytham pulled him into a sitting position and grasped his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Fire-everywhere…” He glanced back at the burning warehouse wide eyed, tears beginning to pool at the corners. After a few seconds Haytham cupped his cheek and forced Connor to look away from the flames, moving his own body to block the view.
“Come on.” Haytham shifted and slung one of Connor’s arms over his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around the Assassin’s waist and hauled him to his feet with a grunt. Haytham led a numb and nearly unresponsive Connor to an Inn owned by a couple allied with the Templars. He was given a room tucked away in the corner of the second floor without questions asked as to the reason for his presence there, or his company.
Haytham pushed Connor across the threshold gently before he knelt in front of the brickwork fireplace, rising when the flames began to lick at the larger logs. He turned to find Connor standing a few feet behind him, eyes fixed on an indeterminate point in space and sighed. He gripped Connor by the shoulders and shook him gently until some amount of awareness came back into his eyes. “Get yourself out of those soaked clothes. I’ll be back shortly.” Connor nodded numbly in response and Haytham began to unclasp the coat himself until Connor’s hands took over.
He slipped out of the window and across the rooftops to retrieve Connor’s robes from the shed they’d stashed them in, watching the warehouse from a distance for a few minutes to ensure its destruction, before returning to the Inn. He entered the room to see the borrowed clothing piled in a sodden heap in the corner.
Connor was curled into a tight ball of limbs near the fireplace, having dragged a quilt and pillow off of the small bed. He had purposely positioned himself so that his back was to the flames, wanting the warmth they provided without having to watch the way they consumed the wood, turning it to ash. If he could have lain all the way across the room, he would have, but the jump into the water had made him cold enough that the heat was needed. He had tried, multiple times, to close his eyes and sleep, but found it impossible as memories plagued him. Eventually he’d settled for staring blankly out the window, waiting for Haytham to return and keeping his mind busy going over the random detail that floated in and out of his head.
Haytham stripped off his own water logged clothes, leaving his breeches on and draping the rest over a nearby chair. He sat beside Connor, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “What happened back there?” Haytham felt a hand on his thigh and a moment later Connor pulled himself sideways to rest his head on the Templar’s lap. “Is this about Ziio?”
“There was fire everywhere. It was so loud. When I found her I could barely see.” He shivered violently, his nails digging into Haytham’s skin through his breeches. No mater how old he became the memories were still there. It had taken years before he could look at an open flame without seeing her face behind it. “Then she was gone.” Connor sat up, his eyes misting over. “I thought I would lose you too.”
Haytham reached out and pulled him into an embrace, feeling strong arms wrap around his own back, squeezing tight enough that he wasn’t able to fill his lungs completely without a slight effort. “You didn’t lose me.” He stroked a hand through Connor’s hair as the Assassin began to cry softly. “You won’t lose me.”