Connor My Dear Boy (FINISHED)

20

Haytham drove in silence. He had offered to bring Connor with him, but he had stated that he was still feeling ill, so Haytham let him sleep.

When Haytham arrived, he parked the car and walked through the front doors, approaching the front desk. A man sat at the counter, hands flying over a keyboard, and the name tag on his desk read Garnier de Naplouse. He held up one finger, indicating that Haytham should wait for a moment, before looking at him expectantly.

"Can I help you?" de Naplouse asked.

"I would like to pay a visit to someone, if he is available," said Haytham.

"Name?"

"Malik Al-Sayf?"

de Naplouse typed away at his computer. "He is meeting with an occupational therapist at the moment, and he should be done in about forty five minutes. Then there will be an hour before he meets with his physiotherapist. Would you like to wait?"

"I've got the time," said Haytham.

"Excellent," de Naplouse said. "I will call you up when he's ready, if he would like to see you."

Haytham sat down stiffly on one of the chairs in the waiting area. All around him, people were reading, or bustling around. Haytham's gaze rested on a worn, tired looking father and his two year old twins that were playing at his feet, fighting over a toy.

"No fair, Jacob!" shrieked the girl. "I saw it first!"

Another man was talking rapidly into his phone in what sounded to Haytham like Italian while his sister, a posh looking woman with a lot of makeup on, glared at him and gestured for him to be quieter.

"Stai zitto, Cesare," the fancy woman snarled. The man on the phone glared at her for a moment, but quieted down and continued to talk on the phone.

A young woman with black hair sat next to another woman with reddish hair. Both were obviously pregnant and were chatting happily with one another.

"Perhaps afta' the babies are born?" said the one with black hair.

"I dunno, Mary; England's the wrong way 'round the globe for an Irishwoman," said the redhead with a grin.

Haytham sighed and let his head drop back onto his chair. It was going to be a long wait, but it was going to be worth it.

Haytham picked up one of the magazines sitting on the table next to him and looked at it blandly. He read the words without really seeing them until he spotted someone he recognized, walking up to the main desk. He spoke with him briefly for a moment; de Naplouse looked doubtful and the boy looked worried. The boy nodded slightly and shot a glance around the room, seemingly nervously.

"Altaïr," Haytham called out.

Altaïr spotted his teacher and hesitated before walking over. Haytham noticed the stitches on the cut on his lip, both the cut and the stitches standing out starkly against his swarthy skin. Haytham also noticed the missing ring finger on his left hand, still covered in bandages. "Hello Mr. Kenway," he mumbled.

"Are you here to see Malik?" Haytham asked kindly.

Altaïr hesitated again. "Yes. I've… I've come twice now."