The Shadow of a broken man (Jacob Frye)

Requested on: Nothing
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Mod: Adrasthée

OKAY SO TUMBLR HATES ME AND I COULDNT SAVE THIS ON MOBILE TO POST IT TODAY SO FUCK THE APP I’M SO FUCKING DONE, anyhow, the idea for the fics came to me a while ago and I shared it with @creednight​ on anon and it ended up rly giving me the push I needed to say “let’s try writing ac and write this shit out” so like, yeah, thanks a lot, seriously. She also agreed to beta read it for me and seriously that’s really nice of you, it means so much. So yall should check @creednight​ out even tho we have like 10 followers so it probably won’t change much  ANYHOW, enjoy!

-Adra

Ps: it’s kind of spoilery for the Jack the Ripper DLC, a dlc which I havent played and I am spoiled for everything BUT the part with Jacob, so some things may not work.

Pps: it’s not rly a reader insert BUT could be seen as one (for a fem!Reader) for the identity of the wife isn’t ever specified (also it’s a wife cuz sadly same sex relationships can’t have biological kids (you know what I mean) yet)

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His son was playing around with the other kids, all of the children, laughing joyfully, running around as the sun was gently warming the chilly autumn air. Passerbys, humming, talking and some of them even shouting as they were walking by, carriages peacefully strolling down the street. The city was as lively as ever, as if everyone had already forgotten the terror of the past weeks.

Sitting on a bench at the park, Jacob looked around him, taking in the strangely peaceful scenery. Everything seemed so normal. How could everyone had already forgotten what had happened?

Five women, his initiates, women he had taken under his wings, dead. Gruesomely murdered by a man he had failed in so many ways, their bodies violently torn apart in blind rage. The city, thrown into panic and chaos.

He looked down, frowning.

He had failed them all.

They all died because of him, because of his own stupidity. Because he had let his emotions get in the way.

Never let personal feelings compromise the mission.

Even after twenty years, he hadn’t changed in the slightest.

“Catch me if you can!”

His son ran away from his friends, giggling as they started chasing each other around, enjoying themselves like only kids could. Barely four, the boy already was a near carbon copy of his father, with his brown hair and dark eyes there was no denying them being related. He was always such a happy boy, a bundle of joy and innocence in his father’s sombre existence.

“Daddy! Daddy look! Look! I climbed it on my own!”

Jacob’s gaze shifted to his little rook, now perched on a tree he had seemingly climbed, his friends trying to catch him from the ground.

“Unfair! Get back here! We can’t play tag if you stay in the trees!”

The father forced a proud smile onto his lips for the small boy as he stood up from the bench and made his way closer to the cohort of children just in case he was to slip and fall. Those on the ground had started to try to climb the tree when his gaze shifted, losing itself into the void once again.

How could he protect his son? Hadn’t he proven enough his inability to raise a child? How many more murderers must he accidentally create before being forever forbidden to raise one? Perhaps, leaving him and his mother would be the right thing to do to save them from a terrible fate.

What was there to guarantee he wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Jack?

“Daddy! Catch me! Catch me!”

Jacob barely had the time to take a step closer before his son jumped off the tree. Catching him in his arms, he spun around with the boy, causing him to giggle happily.

“Easy there little rook!”

His boy smiled at him as they stopped spinning.

“Did you see it? I climbed the tree like a grownup!”

“Of course I did! I’m proud of you, love.” He smiled back.

The pride shown through the boy’s eyes as he heard his father’s words reminded him of the one that used to shine in Jack’s eyes whenever he’d compliment him on something he did.

Jack.

Jacob suddenly tensed.

Jack the Lad, as they used to call him.

Jack the Ripper.

The sudden memory of his former initiate sent waves of panics through Jacob’s system, the memories of what had happened haunting him once again. The bodies of his initiates, Jack taunting him, the chase through Whitechapel, the dimly lit room in which they fought… He could still feel the weight of Jack’s body on top of his as he had raised his knife. Phantom pain shot through his now blind eye.

And after that? Darkness. Pitch black emptiness surrounding him with nothing but the occasional laughter of the mad man, echoing in his cell. He had spent hours, days in there as hunger and dehydration slowly wasted him away in this filthy place, His wound slowly getting infected in the damp cell.

But nothing was worse than the torment of not knowing. Not knowing what was happening outside. Not knowing if his sister had arrived from India, if she had found his hidden messages. Not knowing if his wife, if his son, were safe, or if they had been murdered by the monster he had accidentally created.

At first he fought back, or at least tried to, screaming, hitting on the door, banging it with his fists until they bled, doing everything in his power until he had to stop, too exhausted to continue. Too exhausted to fight.

He even cried. He would never leave this place alive. Slowly, he lost hope as despair invaded his mind, reducing him to nothing more than an empty shell. He would never see his family again. He would never see his son again.

When his sister had found him, barely living, slumped against a wall, Jacob was nothing more than a shadow of himself. For days he stayed silent, barely eating, barely living. It was as if something had broken inside of him. He cried a lot too. Usually alone, when his son and wife wouldn’t be there to witness. He couldn’t bare the thought of showing them how truly weak he was. Not when he was supposed to protect them.

If he could even protect them anymore.

A tear strolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another one. And another one. And another one, until he found himself sobbing against his will. This dark feeling of despair overwhelming him once again, slowly choking him.

“Daddy? Are you okay?”

Jacob snapped back to reality when his son placed his hand on his cheek, wiping one of his tears away, a concerned expression on his face. He put him back on the ground, kneeling in front of him as he forced a smile on his lips, refusing to show him more of his torments.

What if he fucked up again?

“I’m alright little rook. Go, play with the others, don’t worry for me.”

What if he failed him too?

The boy frowned, not moving.

What if he were to mess up his son’s life just like he messed up everything else?

“You’re crying.”

What if he was leading his son to a tragic end, just like he had done with Jack?

His father tightened his lips, avoiding his son’s gaze.

After all, wasn’t he the sole responsible of what had happened?

The boy took his father’s hand in his small ones, giving him a serious look.

After all, didn’t he fail everything of importance in his life?

“It’s okay to cry Daddy. I’m here for you, things will get better, I promise.”

Jacob looked at his little rook with in shock, his voice strangled in his throat.

He would be okay.

A weight was suddenly lifted of his shoulders as tears of relief welled up his eyes.

Things would get better.

With only a few words, it was almost as if his son had put to rest everything that had plagued his mind for weeks.

He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to be strong, to be perfect. He could get better, be better.

His son was there.

And maybe, maybe he wouldn’t fail this time.