Lucy remained completely still, watching Desmond carefully. Her eyes flicked to the sliding door for a second. It was about halfway between them. If she could move fast enough…
She didn't have to. The door slid open, allowing Dr. Vidic to enter. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked as professional as ever. Lucy couldn't take the risk of dropping her defenses when Desmond was in such a state.
"What's going on in here, Ms. Stillman?" he asked gruffly. "I told you to bring Mr. Miles back to the Animus almost five minutes ago."
"There's a problem," she started. "Desmond-"
"I am not Desmond," Desmond said, still using that darker, older voice he had spoken with moments ago. "I am Altaïr."
Vidic looked intensely displeased. He lifted his watch to his face and spoke into it. "Security needed on level four."
Desmond darted forward and knocked Vidic down as alarm bells began to ring all around the room, accompanied by flashing red lights. Lucy ran after him.
'This is too soon,' she thought. 'God, I wish their timing were better…'
"What is this?" Desmond demanded of Lucy.
"There's no time," she said quickly as a thunderous rumble sounded through the building, rocking the floor beneath her feet. She leapt forward and grabbed Desmond's wrist. He jerked it away from her in the same moment. She felt herself getting frustrated. "I'm an Assassin," she said in as low a tone as she could. "I'm trying to help you."
He studied her for a moment with unnaturally cruel eyes, then seemed to relax his stance a little. Another explosive sound rattled the building. Lucy ran out of the room and took off down the hallway with Desmond close behind her. She was about to turn a corner when he gripped her shoulder and pulled her backwards, flattening both of them against the wall.
"What are you doing?" she whispered loudly. Desmond closed his eyes, taking a deep, sharp breath. Red flashes of light bloomed behind his eyelids, reforming into the shapes of people running along the corridor. They held perfectly still as a group of armed men ran past them. Lucy barely had time to release her held breath before Desmond took her wrist and pulled her along a different path.
"How did you-"
"Shh," Desmond said abruptly. Lucy glanced back and saw an opening along the wall, a hallway they had run past. She silently led Desmond towards it. It meant taking a longer path to reach their destination, but she was willing to take that risk if it meant not being captured by the Templars.
They moved along a series of hallways and elevators. Desmond would stop every now and then to close his eyes and listen. Sometimes they would keep going, and sometimes he would signal for her to stop and move back to a hiding place. The last elevator they took dropped them in the parking garage. A white truck was parked in front of a very large hole blown in the side of the building. Lucy ran over to help the two Assassins quickly being overtaken by a flood of Abstergo soldiers, and Desmond followed.
"Lucy! Where the hell have you been?" the girl called. She slammed her foot into the back of a black-clad soldier's head and knocked him unconscious. "We've been waiting for you."
"We got a little tied up," Lucy answered as she disposed of another soldier. Desmond fought silently in the background. Lucy glanced at him just in time to see him make the motion of stabbing his enemy with a hidden blade, but he looked down in blank surprise to see that he had no weapon. The soldier grasped his wrist, but Desmond twisted and flipped the man over so he was flat on the ground, then brought his heel down on the man's neck with a muffled crunch.
"Yes, well-" the other Assassin began, though he was cut off by a soldier's fist colliding with his jaw. Lucy tripped the soldier and kicked him out of the way. "At least you're here now," he finished, holding a hand to his bleeding mouth. "Grab Desmond so we can go."
"Desmond!" Lucy called. He showed no sign of a response, so she jogged over and grabbed his shoulder. He spun around and nearly attacked her, but his wild eyes softened when he realized she wasn't a direct threat. "We have to go."
He wordlessly followed her back to the truck and climbed inside after her. The other girl pulled the metal door closed, and the vehicle took off, quickly slamming Desmond into the side. Lucy took a seat on the floor, and once he righted himself, he did the same. It was dark except for a narrow window on the metal wall opposite the door that let a few shafts of light stream in from outside.
"Someone explain this to me," he said, restraining the confused anger brewing within his heart. "Now," he added. He hadn't realized how little his voice would carry in the bouncing, careening truck that seemed entirely unfamiliar to him.
"What's to explain? We busted you out," the other girl said with a smug smile. "You oughta be thanking us."
"Something's wrong, Rebecca," Lucy said grimly, never taking her eyes from Desmond's face. He still looked the same; that much was clear. But his entire demeanor had changed from that of the grudgingly obedient Desmond she knew to one of someone much colder, much more calculative. Someone like Altaïr. He coldly glared back, distrustful of her still. "I think it's the Bleeding Effect, but…different."
"What do you mean?" Rebecca questioned. She reached into a purple bag and pulled out a thin laptop, opening it and precariously balancing it on her lap. Lucy eyed Desmond nervously before speaking again.
"He thinks he's Altaïr."
He shot her a look. "I am Altaïr. Why do you continue to say otherwise?"
"Well, if it is the Bleeding Effect, at least he's picked up the Animus's language translator along the way," Rebecca said with a shrug.
"You aren't at all concerned?" Lucy asked, astonished.
"It should pass soon enough. We'll make sure to keep him out of the Animus for a week or so."
"Where am I?" Desmond asked suddenly.
"Italy," Rebecca answered. "Our hideout's across the border in Switzerland, though. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us. Hope you brought a book."
"Where is Malik?"
Lucy and Rebecca were both silent. Desmond looked helplessly at them, already having studied his surroundings enough to realize that there was no way of looking outside.
"I must speak with him. Or that Leonardo; he might know what has happened."
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're trying to be Altaïr? I think you're getting your Assassins mixed up."
"It's not funny," Lucy hissed sharply. The truck made a sudden turn and catapulted Desmond to the other side of the truck so he was lying in a heap a few feet away from Lucy. She saw the sense of bewilderment in his eyes and knew he could not be pretending. "Listen to me, Desm-"
"Altaïr," he said harshly, almost desperately, like he was struggling to believe it. She sighed. It was a sort of a good sign
"Altaïr. Do you know who I am?"
He shook his head.
"My name's Lucy. This is Rebecca, and the guy driving is Shaun. We're Assassins. Those people back there were Templars."
"Where is my blade?" he asked, seemingly oblivious to every word she was saying. He looked down at his hand in absolute amazement. It occurred to Lucy that the real Altaïr was missing his left ring finger. She cringed inwardly as she realized what effect that had to be having on him.
"Right here," Rebecca said. She pulled a mass of leather and metal out of her bag and lobbed it at Desmond, who caught it with ease and slipped it comfortably over his arm, fumbling with the bulky sleeve of his white sweatshirt. He flicked his wrist to extend the blade, shocked when it didn't slice his finger off in the process.
"What have you done to it?" he asked with a mix of awe and disbelief.
"We've made a few modifications since your time," Lucy said slowly. His eyes flicked to her left hand, where he saw all five of her fingers intact. He let out a low growl. It appeared that Ezio's strange new way of living as an Assassin had infected everyone around him.
"You would not be the first."
Lucy's and Rebecca's attempts to further interrogate him fell on inattentive ears. Desmond – rather, Altaïr – was looking deep inside his mind and trying desperately to sort through all of the conflicting ideas and memories he found. He had never felt so out of touch with his own thoughts before. The idea that he was not actually himself set a deep level of fear into his heart.
He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until his eyes suddenly opened to complete darkness. He saw a row of small, flickering green lights from Rebecca's computer, but that was all, and they were hardly enough to illuminate anything. The truck was still rattling down the road, but it seemed to be going slower than it had before. He wondered where they were.
Something stirred against his chest. He realized Lucy was using him as a pillow, and he wasn't completely sure what to make of it. It was more than mildly uncomfortable, but he didn't feel like waking her up, either. Something told him to remain entirely still, possibly even to meditate as a means of relaxation, and that was precisely what he did. He did not go back to sleep, but his mind managed to grow calm enough for him to rest a little. His mind grew so disconnected from his body that when the truck finally stopped and Rebecca stood to raise the metal door with a loud rattle, it shocked him back into consciousness. His body snapped into a fighting position, and he inadvertently tossed Lucy aside. She muttered something under her breath before her eyes flashed open and she saw that they had arrived.
Rebecca gathered up her computer and hopped out of the truck with the energy and look of a sprite. Lucy climbed down after her, wondering how she could have so much spunk after such a trip. Desmond was still silent as he walked after them. Even his shoes made no sound on the pavement. He looked down and studied it like he had never seen it before. It occurred to Lucy that Altaïr probably never had.
"You should get some sleep," she said, though she cut herself off mid-thought with a wide yawn. "I'll explain everything tomorrow."
Desmond grabbed her wrist. Lucy looked at him with a mix of curiosity and fear. It didn't seem like he was going to hurt her, unlike when she had first awakened him at Abstergo earlier that day, but she knew he was perfectly capable of it. "I would prefer that you tell me now," he said simply. His words carried an indiscernible weight, and Lucy sighed.
"You're not really Altaïr," she began. He gave her a quizzical frown. The expression was almost humorous on his face, but she was careful not to laugh. "I know it's hard to believe, but look around. Does this really look like Jerusalem? Or Damascus?" She motioned at a sea of lights glittering in the darkness before them. In daylight, he would have seen the city of Bern spread out before him. He shook his head.
"I have been stranger places," he said, thinking of the bizarre collection of buildings and colored fabrics that had been Italy. He didn't see Lucy smile, because it quickly faded away.
"It's not the Crusades anymore," she continued. "It's 2012. About a thousand years later, give or take." He said nothing. "Why do you think you didn't have your hidden blade? Or why you still have your finger?"
He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers. All of them moved. It could not have been a trick. He felt Lucy's hand on his shoulder.
"Please come back, Desmond. The longer you stay in this state, the more of you we'll lose." She took a deep, slightly wavering breath. "I don't want that to happen."
"Guys, let's go already," Rebecca called from further up the driveway. Lucy started to walk in the direction of her friend's voice. She had only gone five steps when a rush of wind told her Desmond was gone. She kept walking regardless.
"Where'd Desmond run off to?" Shaun asked gruffly.
"I don't know," Lucy admitted, earning shocked looks from both of them. She looked back in the general direction Desmond had gone. "He'll be back."
She hoped so, anyway.
Yes, I know, I've been a bad author. I don't like to make excuses. I should have updated before now. School blah blah blah all that jazz. All I can say is that I will try to be better in the future. Apologies to all.