The Right Side

A Break

It still messes him up at night. Even when he looks at her, images come flooding back. She wasn't even hurt and it was horrifying.

"Haytham!" Clarke yells when she sees him, her torso, arms and hands covered in blood that luckily isn't hers. She's crying. She's shaking. William Johnson is in her arms.

Haytham couldn't wrap his mind around it. The native - whom Clarke informed was named Ratonhnaké:ton  or Connor - had a motive. It was Charles Lee. That was his target. But with him attacking the other Templars, it only led to one thing. He knew Achilles. He knew he trained Shay Cormac and that he was still capable of training another. He was bringing the Assassins back.

But still, why would an Assassin play games with someone like Clarke? Someone who didn't remember anything. Someone who's mind had been broken and generally didn't pose a threat.

Unless there was more to it. There had to be.

"Clarke?" Haytham asks as he enters the livingroom, seeing the blonde sitting on the couch facing the window. Just like the first day he met her. It's only been two days since the incident, but he knew it hurt her. Not physically, so he couldn't pin point exactly what was wrong. Well, he could, but it was more than just Johnson dying. "May I sit with you?"

"Yes, of course," the girl nods amd scoots over slightly. "You don't need to ask."

"I like to know the lady is alright with it," he nods and sits next to her. She has her knees to her chest now, eyes out the window as her fingers tap her legs silently.

"That's cause you're a gentleman. You're a good guy."

"I try to be."

Silence falls over them, though Haytham doesn't try and press her into talking. It seems as though she's been thinking. Hopefully not about anything bad, he wanted her to be okay.

Finally, the woman speaks. "When... I was with William... I remembered something."

"You did? Really? What was it?"

"Not something good," she shook her head. "Someone close to me died. I think they were close to me, I remember crying a lot. But I tried to save them, too. I didn't. It was a little boy. I just wish I knew who it was and who killed him."

The Grand Master didn't know what to do, not having much connection with women other than what happened with Ziio. Ziio was also closer to his age, and Clarke was nearly half. But she needed comfort, so he offered it.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, and he moved closer to her. "I'll help you remember. If that's what you want, of course. I'll do anything you need, just let me know and I'm here."

When she doesn't respond automatically, he worried he's crossed some line. That she didn't want to be touched, or that he was making her seem weak. But when he removed his hand, the girl turns and wraps her arms tightly around his torso. He's shocked, but he can feel her shaking. Most likely crying.

Haytham places his large arms around her and hugs gently, making her squeeze tighter. "I'm sorry you had to see what happened to William," he says gently. "It won't happen again."

"It's my fault he's dead." Her voice is muffled, though she doesn't move. "I gave Connor the letter. He said he needed to help his people. I wanted to help."

"It's alright. That's in the past, you had no idea what he'd do. But now you can't trust him with anything. I want you to stay away from him, please."

She nods, and Haytham rubs her back gently. Softly, his lips press to the top of her head. His heart hurts for her, not knowing what to do to help. What if remembering was too hard? They'd just need to take a break for a bit. Clarke did, at least. The Grand Master knew he couldn't stop until his work was done.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Connor, you need to calm down," comes Achilles's old voice. He leans heavily on his cane, watching the native pace the livingroom. "It will be alright."

"I had her trust! She helped me! She forgave me! I went and killed one of her men!"

"You were going to anyway, were you not?"

"But she watched it happen. I... I saw her. She was trying to save him. Then he came."

"He? Your-"

"My father! She called to him like he could help! Like he was the one she needed! She doesn't need him, she shouldn't be with him but she doesn't understand!"

"I'm not going to have a conversation with you if all you want to do is yell and not listen. I'm willing to offer advice, if you want it."

Connor lets out a breath, running a hand through his dark hair before facing his mentor. "My apologies. Please, speak."

Moving to a wooden chair, the old man sits slowly. "Clarke looks to your father for reasons... I cannot figure out. Of course, he's her mentor. Like I am yours. But I suspect more has added to their trust. That is for you to figure out, as you continue to communicate with her."

"How-"

"She will not trust you again easily. But you need to try. You two can accomplish many things if you work together. I suggest you attempt to explain yourself to her. Not forcefully, for she will be very upset with you. Hopefully, she has no idea who John Pitcairn is. Or we will have more to apologize for."