So it's finally here.

The end of this story. It's kind of the end-end, but well. I didn't really want to write this chapter because it is the freaking end. T_T

MrJaffaJack: Britishally. Yes. Well, it's probably not a word, but who cares it is now a word. And thank you. =]

Lightningpanda: hahahah. Well IF there's going to be a sequel (and I am not saying there is going to be one), I will put those two in it. Yes. Definitely.

The Forgotten Reader: HOLYSHITDONTKILLME. Lolz, jk. I dunno. If my brain gets ideas for a sequel I will write it. And thank you for the big compliment. =D

IAmOneMagicVortex: Yeah it kind of is... D=

Daphne101: Ho damn, I hope your computer is still okay? o:

LunaEtSidera: Oh gawd, I am sawrry for doing that to you.

Guest1: Look an update whiehoe :D

Guest2: Well, you are not the only one my friend.

So... for the last time I will say have a good day and enjoy.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Lesia wearily opened her locker at the end of the school day. She stuffed books and other things she didn't need in it and closed it. The school bell just rang and the hallways were stuffed with teenagers running off to their next class or towards the exit to go home.

She put her jacket on and, with her bag in hand, she slowly strolled down the hallway, dodging kids that passed her.

When she neared the exit of the school, her eyes slowly searched for the table that was standing next to the exit. Ever since she went back to school, this had become a habit of hers. On the table rested a box, pencils and papers. Behind this, a picture of Logan was put in a wooden frame. The intention was to write something on a paper and put in the box for the family – Lindsey, in this case.

Lesia hadn't wrote anything. Logan didn't like to be standing in the spotlights – Lesia knew Logan wouldn't like this. And, she told him everything when she visited his grave. The two reasons why she didn't write anything.

She sighed and exited the school.

Her father was already waiting for her in the car. Every morning – except for the weekends – he drove her to school and at every end of the day he picked her up.

'Hey,' she said while opening the door to the passenger seat. She threw her bag on the backseat, slumping herself in the seat and closing the door.

'How was school?' he asked, giving her a glance.

Lesia fastened her seatbelt. 'Oh, great.' She grabbed her phone to check her messages and when she was done she asked: 'How was your day? No news from my mother?' Both of them had explained the situation to her mother and stepfather. They made up a story about how Jack found his daughter back (seriously, it was completely full of crap) and went on from there. Her mother didn't want to let her leave just like that so paid a lawyer to help her – but one can do only so little when the kid refuses to live with her mother.

Jack started the car. 'Not a word. I believe they dropped it. And my day was fine. I just got a call from Jenkins. He said he wanted to talk to us. So we have to make a quick detour to the bank.'

'The bank?' Lesia glanced over towards her father who shrugged; he didn't know the reason either. So Lesia put on the radio and listened to the music while watching the houses pass by in blurs.

'I will wait in the car for you,' Lesia said. Her father had just parked the car in front of the bank and Jenkins was waiting patiently before it.

'You need to get out too. He told me that we had to visit the bank.' Jack stepped out of the car, leaving a surprised Lesia behind. Why did she had to come with them as well?

She then stepped out of the car, facing a happy Jenkins.

'Finally! It took you long enough. Hey Lesia, how's your shoulder?' He gave her a questioning glance whereupon she shrugged.

'Fine.' She wasn't really in the mood to talk about her shoulder. Some movements did hurt a little, but it had healed fine.

Her father noticed her curt reply and said: 'Why are we here, Jenkins?'

Jenkins gave the two an unreadable expression. 'Yes. Well. I am not sure if you will believe me by word. So, follow me.' He turned around and entered the building – that didn't look as large as it actually was.

Lesia and Jack gave each other a glance before following Jenkins inside. The bank was quite luxurious and modern. But they only got one glance into the waiting room because Jenkins walked to the right, giving the woman behind the counter a nod. Jenkins had been here before.

They walked into another hallway where at the end of it two guards were stationed – both with bulletproof vests, guns and pistols. They were guarding a door.

Jenkins nodded to them as well while opening the door with keys he, apparently, had and stepped into the room.

Lesia entered the room a little tense while her father couldn't be more relaxed. Her father was probably used to all of it; to guns and men with angry expressions holding the guns. She still wasn't.

Behind the door a large room revealed itself with vaults. A lot of vaults.

'We had to ship it from Europe to here, but I assure you, nothing is broken or stolen. I got a confused call from one of our buddies in Europe that they had these things safely, locked up and that it was a bit odd that he never called me about it. Well it's here.' While talking Jenkins had moved to one of the vaults, entering a code into some sort of modern machine and opening one of the vaults. 'We put it here to make sure it was kept safe.' He looked at her when he said this. Why was he talking to her instead of Jack? Why couldn't he just say what the hell was going on?

When Jack nodded, Jenkins opened the door of the vault – which was the average size of a human being. They moved forward to see what had revealed itself behind the door of the vault. Lesia had no other words than another room for it was spacious and it contained walls. There was nothing in it except for the three things in the middle of the vault. She couldn't see precisely what the three things were because three sheets were put over it. One of them was really small, one of them was long and wide and the last one looked like some sort of box. On top of every sheet was lying a letter and in extremely old and beautiful handwriting was written: Lesia Amlee.

She gave her father and Jenkins a puzzled glance. Her father seemed as surprised as she but pushed her gently through the opening of the vault so that they were standing in front of the three things.

'None of us has read the letters, but we know who sent these things,' Jenkins mumbled behind them.

Lesia was a little lost. This was all so weird and mysterious to say the least. But her father gave her a reassuring look and she moved toward the first thing which was the small object. She grabbed the letter that was lying on top of it and, a little unsure, opened it slowly and read what was written inside:

Dear Lesia,

When you and your father were gone that last day, Ezio, Edward and myself made an agreement. We wanted to give you something. We wanted to do this to say thank you, but we could not give you anything in your world. So we made an agreement to make, or collect, something that has meaning.

When I returned to Masyaf after those three weeks in your world, I did not know what to give you. I did not have time to make something so I did nothing until I assassinated my Mentor. After that, I kept a journal for myself, and I kept a second journal for you. I give my thoughts and knowledge to you.

I am writing this letter at a very old age and I am about to give this and my journal to someone I trust completely. He will keep it safe and pass it on to someone he will trust. This will go on until it reaches Ezio.

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

Lesia was speechless. She slowly folded the letter back into the envelope and took the sheet off from Altaïr's journal and picked it up. It was very old – it smelled very old – but it was full of writings, full of thoughts.

With the journal in hand she looked up towards the other two things that were lying in the vault. Were they from..? Was this some kind of joke? She glanced back towards Jenkins, who didn't show any sign of laughter – he wasn't joking around. Then she glanced up towards her father who was standing next to her, looking as surprised as she.

If people didn't believe the Assassins were real – then this was the answer.

Lesia placed the journal gently back onto the sheet and moved on to the next thing, which wasn't the box. Her eyes glanced over the letter that was lying on top. She picked it up and opened it:

Dear Lesia,

I am quite sure that this letter will find you for Altaïr's gift has found me eventually. I do not know how, but I am certain I can do the same. These gifts are going towards Edward.

You do not know how much trouble you put me into to make this, even though I did not make it myself. I spent a lot of hours by one of my dearest friends and although he did not believe me at first, he did what I ask of him.

I want to thank you, bambina, Jack, Jenkins, Sully and Logan – may he rest in peace. If you had not been there to help us, we would have never return home. And I know I cannot, in any way, can get Logan back, but I do hope this gift helps you in some kind of way.

Your friend,

Ezio Auditore

Lesia folded the letter back into the envelope and her eyes darted towards the rectangular object underneath the sheet. What could that possibly be?

Her father helped her to get the sheet of the thing and when the object revealed itself, Lesia was at a loss for words.

She was staring at herself, smiling, and Logan – with glasses on – was standing next to her with an expression on his face that he carried with him at all costs. It was a painting, painted by the master himself. Leonardo da Vinci – his signature, almost too small to see, was written in a corner. Ezio had memorized her and Logan and made Leonardo paint them. The clothes were correct – the faces weren't completely correct, but they were recognizable in them.

'This is unbelievable,' she muttered.

'I am not even sure if you can hang that in your living room – it's too valuable,' Jenkins chuckled. He was already aware of the fact that it was painted by none other than Leonardo da Vinci.

Lesia was now glaring at the last gift – which should be from Edward himself. Her eyes glanced from the sheet to the letter and back. It looked like a box. There was only one thing that came to mind that looked like a box and was associated with Edward. She swallowed hard and opened the last letter while her father was still admiring the painting.

Dear Lesia,

I collected this along the way of my piracy to show my gratitude.

I hope it helps you out as it always helps me,

Edward Kenway

It was brief – Lesia had no doubt that Edward had been a busy man, even after he quit piracy. She folded the letter back into its envelope and pulled the sheet from the box – which turned out to be a chest.

'Oh God,' Lesia mumbled as she looked at the broken lock – no doubt Edward had done it himself. She slowly opened it up to find golden coins shining back at her. It was full to the brim. 'Is this real?'

Her father had walked over to the chest and was now investigating one of the coins.

From behind Jenkins answered: 'Yes. It is as old and real as can be. I tested it. That is a lot of money.'

Lesia rose to her feet as she did a step back to look at the things the Assassins gave her. She didn't know what to say. It was too much. Her father was done with investigating and walked over to her side, putting an arm around her shoulder.

'So what are you going to do with it, Lesia? It's yours. We just kept it safe until it was delivered,' Jenkins said.

Lesia was confused. She hadn't realized – until now – that this was hers. What the hell was she going to do with this?

'You should keep it here until you figured out what you want to do with it,' her father whispered in her ear – he had seen her panicked expression.

She put her arms around her father – and he returned the hug – closing her eyes as she did so. 'Thank you for being here,' she whispered into his jacket hugging him tightly. She was glad that she wasn't living with her mother and stepfather anymore – seeing her mother once per month or so was just right. And even though she would miss Logan for the rest of her life, she was finally in the stage of accepting that he was gone. Maybe she could do something with the money for Logan, something so the world would not forget him.

She was glad that the Assassins had made it home after all. They probably just picked up their story where they left it. She wished she could see them again sometime – but that wasn't going to happen. And that was something she accepted as well. There were two things she would keep in mind:

1. She would never mistake a game for just a game.

2. Playing Assassin's Creed would never be the same again.

So guys. That was it with this story. END.

I want to thank all of you who favorited, followed and/or reviewed the story. I love all of you guys and appreciated it greatly. You guys really helped me with your support - it motivated me to keep writing. Thank you for putting up with me all this way. When I have enough time, I will edit the mistakes I've noticed - but that isn't really interesting for you guys because the story will stay the same. I hope you all liked it and I will see you all later, or ever, or never. I dunno lolz. :]

Peace out.