There was a clash of swords as he met Altair's attack from the air. He could feel Ezio stir in the back of his mind as he countered the following blow.
"You'll have to use more than the most basic of moves to win against me," Desmond taunted, parrying another blow.
Altair grunted as he backed off, a smirk on his lips as the people screamed and ran. "What a pleasure to see you again."
Desmond looked away with a pout and laughed when Altair tried to strike. He knocked the sword out of the way and managed to get his side before he heard his own hidden blade slide out to meet Altair's.
"You are better than you appear, my brother," Altair grunted, kicking him in the stomach and sending him backwards.
Desmond rolled out of the way as the Great Eagle smashed into the stone beside him, and he twisted on his back to kick him in the head. They were on their feet in an instant, and their swords together in another, parrying and countering, clanging and ringing throughout the empty market. They seemed to dance all over the ground as they lost and won ground. He was pleased to see Altair struggling as they fought. Desmond yelped when he felt the sword bite into his shoulder through the armor, and he kicked out, connecting solidly with Altair's leg.
The guards at the edge of the market were watching intently. As the fight wore on, he felt himself wearing down. He needed to end this quickly. With a quick glance, he eyed the wall on the other side of the market, ducking and doing a sweeping kick with his leg. He darted to the wall, checking quickly to make sure Altair was behind him. He ran several feet up the wall, Altair following, and he pushed off, leaning back and grabbing Altair's shoulders.
Altair went with the motion, shocked at the way Desmond bent, and Desmond slammed Altair's head into the ground, stunning him long enough for him to pin the man and release the hidden blade against his neck.
"Game over, Altair," he huffed.
The master assassin struggled, and when he realized he had been defeated, he relaxed.
"So what now? You can't kill me."
"No, but I can make it look like it. Trust me?"
"I don't have a choice."
Desmond chuckled breathlessly. "This is gonna hurt, but just act dead."
He reached into the belt and grabbed the gun. He pressed it to Altair's shoulder. Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger and watched the explosion of blood on the other side of the wound. Altair grunted and went limp. Holstering the gun as sneaky as he could, he got up and picked up Altair's body.
"He's dead!"
A roar went up from the people as Desmond struggled to get the body through the crowd. He limped over to his Granddad, the injuries and bruises making themselves known.
"Get out of the way! I need to take him to the doctor's office!"
The crowd parted just enough to let him limp through.
"Give us his body—"
"Let him enjoy the spoils for a minute! Come, Desmond. To the doctor."
They followed him to their house, where he set Altair down gently. "Get Malik and some supplies for surgery, we have to remove the slug."
"Slug?"
"Get Malik and the doctor!" he snarled. "Altair, you're safe now."
He felt Altair stir, and watched his hand clasp the bullet injury. "What was that?"
"A gun. I'll show you how it works later. Just know we're getting the slug out."
"Slug?"
"The bullet. Bullets are like really tiny arrowheads design to rip your skin to shreds."
Altair looked at him with unfocused eyes. A few minutes later, Malik came rushing in with a doctor. Desmond pulled out a bullet from the clip.
"We need to get this out of this wound."
He watched as the doctor removed the bullet and stitched him back together. It was only after Altair was tended to that he even let the doctor touch him.
"You won? Or just shot him with your… weapon?"
"I won, and then I shot him to fake his death."
"And what of the 'body?'"
"It was stolen. A death like his? Totally believable."
Desmond took off his backpack. He dug around for the electronic he had. When he heard a small knock at the door, he jumped up and crumpled on his bad leg.
"I will get it, my grandson. Let the doctor tend to you."
He watched eagerly as the doctor yelled at him to hold still. He bit his cheek till it bled as the doctor stitched up his leg. It took forever, but he was as silent as a mouse the entire time as the doctor poked and prodded, bandaged and wrapped. The most the doctor got was a wince. Granddad came pacing back in a while later, holding his electronic.
"Someone wanted to return this. Said you dropped it."
He nodded. "Thanks. I was gonna go look for it."
He took it and looked at the screen, watching the doctor through the screen. He frowned and lay back. It had been recording for a while. He fiddled with it until it stopped, and he found his way back. His memories of handling the iPhone were fuzzy, but eventually, he found the thing—vidrow, was the word that came to mind, or something akin to that—and watched it. He grinned when he saw it had caught the end. A bad angle, but the man with the glasses would have a good reaction. He felt certain of it.
He fiddled with it to turn it off and put it in his backpack, zipping it up again and gritting his teeth when the doctor prodded his broken rib. It took quite a bit before he was patched up. Altair did quite a number on him, but at least he could finally claim he beat the Grand Master. The doctor made it clear he wasn't allowed to do any hard labor for a while, and he sighed: it was going to be a long time.
"I'm surprised you beat him," Malik said. "You don't look like you could've."
"I get that a lot. I'm too thin; I'm too weak… but I like surprising people." He grinned at the one-armed man, who shook his head.
"Novice."
He closed his eyes. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up, sore, and the space next to him was empty. He groaned and rolled over, wincing at the pain.
"You're awake."
He cracked an eye to look at his granddad. "Yeah, and I'm really sore."
The old man chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Malik took Altair back to the bureau using a sheet."
"Good. He'll be safer there."
"We've been fending off admirers all day."
"It's nighttime?"
"No, morning. You slept all night. Your fight lasted quite a bit of the day."
He yawned, stretching. When the thread holding his leg together was tugged, he winced.
"The doctor recommended you stay in bed until you heal. Malik said he was going to have problems keeping Altair stationary."
Desmond chuckled. "It'll be hard, but I've gotten good at following orders."
True to his word, Desmond managed to stay in bed for the following week. It helped he had people from far and wide bringing him gifts and adoration for "killing" Altair. There were all kinds of gift: gold, food, and expensive spices that he gave to his Granddad and his daughter, and there were small drawings and toys that kids would bring him. He accepted it all graciously, saving each picture, note, or toy, until there was a small pile by his bed. He would pass the hours stuck on bed rest looking at them. His gun and iPhone lay forgotten in his backpack, which was stuffed under his helmet.
By the end of the week, he was up and helping around the house. He made meals for the family and learned to wash the laundry. The daughter's only child, who was old enough to have married and moved out, came and visited, and not so subtly suggested that she had a friend who was single. Desmond laughed and said that while he wanted to marry, he wasn't ready for kids yet.
He found himself growing lighter and lighter. By the end of the second week confined to the house, he had a permanent place in his granddad's household. By the end of the third week, he felt as if he had been there all his life. He had stepped out onto the streets for the first time in three weeks, and breathed deep of the summer air. It was hot outside, and the uniform he wore did little to help, but he didn't care. The sun felt good on his skin, and the fresh air filled his lungs.
"Desmond."
He turned to see Malik walking toward him. He smiled, feeling so much lighter than before.
"Yeah, Malik?"
"Come with me."
Desmond fell in step beside him, greeting the people on the street and chatting eagerly. When they entered the bureau, he led him back to his room. Altair was sitting up, watching him, with his shoulder still bandaged tightly.
"Malik has told me about you."
Desmond tilted his head, but sat at the end of the bed when the Grand Master motioned for it.
"I have the Apple in Masyaf. You will accompany me there."
"Okay?"
Altair frowned, and Malik sat beside the Grand Master. "Desmond, you're going home."
"I am home," he said, smiling.
"Your home is in the future."
"What?"
"You're an assassin from the future."
"An assassin, yeah, in terms of loyalty, but I don't know where you're getting this future stuff."
"Idiot, how can you not remember your own past?" Malik hissed. "And yet, still remember about the assassins and the Templars?"
"What? No. I've always lived here. Granddad will attest to that if you ask."
"Desmond," Altair began, then fell silent, watching the man.
Desmond stared at Altair, not sure what to think. Finally, Malik growled.
"I told you the Apple was erasing his memories. Why did you not believe me, novice?"
"I didn't think it was possible. I have studied the Apple for several years now."
He watched their banter, getting more and more hopelessly lost with every passing sentence. In all honesty, he didn't know what the Apple was, but he did know he could be a good spy for the assassins, and he was happy here. He didn't understand what they meant when they said he was from the future. He fit right in, and now that he could go out and about, he was planning on finding himself a wife and settling down. Have a litter of kids. Make his granddad proud.
"Desmond, you are not of this time," Altair said calmly.
"Yeah, I am—"
"No. Here." Malik pushed a thin, black thing into his hands.
"What's this? Where'd you get it?"
"You called it an I Phun. Or something like that. It was in your backpack, you idiot. Did you not feel me take it out?"
"It was?" He was turning it in his hand, not really sure what to do with it. He glanced up to see Altair and Malik look at each other.
"You turn it on by pressing the silver bar on the top. You showed me."
He pushed the silver bar on the top and jumped when the screen lit up. "I… Is that me?"
He was staring at the picture of him, dressed in the oddest blue pants. He was with a man with glasses, and a woman with bulbous projections on either ear. He stared at the lady with the blonde hair. She seemed familiar.
"Who are they?"
Malik pointed to each in turn. "You. Shaun. Rebecca. Lucy."
The names stuck as well as oil on water. "Huh?"
Malik ran through them again, and when they still didn't stick, he scowled and looked at Altair.
"So what now? It's clear the Apple is blocking any memory of his past."
"We will simply have to hope we can get him ho—"
"Who was the blonde woman again? She seems familiar."
He felt his chest ache as he looked at her. He touched the screen lightly as if to feel her skin, and Desmond felt as if his heart were tugged on. He felt an odd sort of despair creeping into his mind.
"You were in love with her."
The words didn't stick as he stared at her. Finally, ripping his gaze away, he handed it back to Malik.
"I still don't think I'm from the future."
"Desmond, you need to get…" Malik sighed, frustrated. "You need to go home."
"I am ho—"
"No," Altair said. "You will come with me to Masyaf. You need to go home."
"The question is, how will we get you out?" Malik said. "You are dead."
"I will sneak—"
"There is no way you could with all of the attention to Desmond and your injuries."
"He could be a distraction so that I could sneak out."
"We can try it," Malik said, "but you will have to be extra careful."
"I'll have to talk to Granddad," Desmond said, frowning. "Although, I don't entirely want to go back."
"You have to. It is not your time to be here."
"But…" Desmond sagged. "I've enjoyed myself here. Not the fame and popularity, but I just feel at home here."
"I know, Desmond." He looked when Malik placed his hand on his shoulder. "But you cannot remain. Imagine what those people in the iPhun must be feeling like. You need to return. You called them your family when you told me about them. It would be as if they were losing Kadar."
Desmond looked at his lap. He didn't want to leave, but the odds were stacking against him.
"Fine, I'll go talk to Granddad."
He walked out without another word and went to the house. By the time he arrived, the thought of going back "home" was all ready gone. He spent the rest of the day watching his granddad work. He helped make the meal and do the laundry. He fetched the water for them and enjoyed working with them. As the sun was going down, there was a knock at the door, and Granddad went to open it as Desmond helped his daughter prepare dinner.
"And then, you'll never believe this, Desmond," the woman said, "she claimed that you had never beaten Altair! She thinks it's all a lie!"
"Are you serious?" Desmond responded, grinding the herbs for her.
"Absolutely! And then she had the courage to hint at her daughter being unmarried. I am sorry, but as long as you live under my roof, you will never get married to that witch's daughter."
"I don't want to if her mother's not going to believe me."
"Good. And the dog woman from last time was in the market, too."
"What'd she have to say?" He handed her the bowl of ground up spices.
"Her mothering dog has fallen ill. All the pups caught what she had because of the milk. Poor things will waste away like everyone else in the poor district."
"Wait, if she lives in the poor district, why was she in the rich district's market?"
"I don't know," the woman said as she gave him another herb to grind. "But she's in ruins right now."
Desmond looked upset. "I hope she makes it, and her dogs too."
"Don't we all."
"Desmond…"
He looked to see Granddad standing in the doorway. "Yes, Granddad?"
"What's this about you leaving us?"
He was confused. "Huh?"
"I was worried that would happen."
He saw Malik and Altair walk into the house. "What's this all about?"
"Earlier, we discussed you going back to your time. Remember?" Malik said, frowning.
He thought for a while, and handed the ground herb to the daughter before shaking his head. "No. I don't."
Altair and Malik exchanged glances as Granddad sat down next to him. "They said that you are going to Masyaf, where they will send you home."
Desmond tilted his head. "I don't remember that at all."
Malik growled, frustrated, and Altair scowled.
"Sorry," Desmond said quickly.
"It isn't your fault," Altair said, "but I wish I knew why the Apple was doing this."
"You are leaving us?" the daughter asked, and Desmond looked upset.
"I don't want to. I like it here with you guys."
"May I… may I travel with you?" Granddad asked the Grand Master. "So that I may say goodbye to my grandson, even though adopted?"
Altair frowned, but nodded. "We will give you an escort back, as well, but you may not say anything about what you will see."
"Of course, but I want to say goodbye to my grandson."
Desmond smacked the table and rose. "I don't want to leave."
"I know, Desmond. But you must."
"I… Why?"
"Why?"
"Why do I have to go?"
Altair frowned. "Allah help me: it's like caring for my child."
"What?"
Malik actually smirked. "His kid—your ancestor—has hit the stage of asking questions."
Granddad laughed. "Ah, I remember that with my child. Good luck, young man."
A dry smile pulled at Altair's lips. "Thank you."
Desmond flopped down. "I don't…"
"We leave tomorrow morning at sunrise. Meet us outside the gates. I hope the Apple doesn't erase your memory this time."
Desmond didn't respond. By the time they left, all thoughts of going home were gone. He wondered why Granddad and his daughter ate as if they were sad, and when he walked in to say good night to Granddad, he frowned.
"Why are you packing?"
"We leave tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"For Masyaf."
"The home of the assassins? I thought you liked it in Jerusalem."
"We have business to attend to there."
Desmond smiled. "Okay!"
As he left to pack, he missed the "I will miss you."
The next morning, he was bright and chipper, dressed in the Knight uniform with Malik's sword by his side, and Kadar's doll tucked into his tunic. He had the box of paper scraps and thank-yous from the citizens for "killing" Altair as his granddad had suggested. He was bright and bubbly as they met up with the two assassins.
"You're coming with?"
Altair raised an eyebrow.
"Granddad said we have business to attend to in Masyaf. Are you coming with?"
"Yes," Malik said as he hopped up on his horse. "We are the ones you have business with."
"Oh, okay. But why—"
"Because the paperwork is in his home."
"Oh…"
They rode off, and Desmond spent the entire time trying to cheer his granddad up. He was solemn and forlorn as they rode to Masyaf, and he couldn't figure out why. Altair and Malik were of no help either in figuring out what was going on, but Desmond smiled through his confusion. When they stopped in a small village for the night, he wrestled with the children and gossiped with the people.
"He acts as if he has lived here his whole life," Altair murmured, watching him from a bench as he talked with a shopkeeper.
"What is the Apple doing?" Malik said, leaning against the building.
They watched in silence as two little kids taught him how to play a game. Finally, Malik said, "He said, when we first talked, that Masyaf had fallen in the future to the hands of the Templars. Do you think the Apple is trying to straighten it out?"
"The boy is not immortal, so that would make no sense."
"At least I am speculating," Malik spat. "Although, he seems fixated on the fact that he feels at home."
"Do you think the Apple is trying to get him to go back to Masyaf in the future?"
"Perhaps. But how could he tackle the entire…"
They looked at each other.
"There is something he had not said about the Pieces of Eden."
"No, no, he mentioned something about a prophet in one of the temples where they lie. Your descendant found it, and then Desmond did."
Altair twisted his lips. "Perhaps… None of this makes any sense."
Malik scoffed. "Of course it doesn't. There are things we cannot understand. However, the Apple is using him for something. I am sure of it."
"Perhaps," Altair began, thinking for a bit before continuing, "perhaps, if we are lucky enough, we will be able to see him in the future. Perhaps the Apple is trying to get him to return to take back Masyaf."
"By blocking his memories of the future?"
"Yes, and creating such a strong feeling of home, that when he returns, he will be driven to reclaim the lands to soothe his mind."
Malik looked back to see Desmond making necklaces with the kids, the game long forgotten. "Perhaps."
"I feel bad for his adoptive Grandfather," Altair murmured after a bit.
"Why?" Malik asked.
"It would be like losing my own child. I cannot fathom that emotion."
They saw his granddad sitting by himself, the saddest expression on his face. His eyes were trained on his "grandson" as he created a shoddy, but made with love, necklace. When Desmond had finished, he danced over and sat by his grandfather, tying it around his neck. They watched him hug the old man, who closed his eyes and hugged back.
"Your child will be an assassin."
"And I am okay when I detach myself to think of him as just an assassin, but when I hold him in my arms, or wrestle with him in the gardens, or hide from Maria with him, I cannot imagine… Will not…" Altair clenched his teeth together. "I do not know how he will let Desmond go."
"They have only been together for two months, Altair."
"That is more than enough time to become attached to a child."
Malik turned to watch as Desmond chatted with the old man, one arm around his shoulders as if he had been raised by him. The old man was playing with the necklace with a soft smile on his face.
"There's only one charm like that, I hope you know," Desmond said, grinning.
The old man laughed. "Good. Then I will always be able to tell your necklace apart."
He glanced at the small rock charm. It had swirling patterns in it to tell it apart from all others.
The next few days were quite the same: there was little talking save from Desmond, who tried his damnedest to make his granddad smile. When they walked through the gates of Masyaf, Desmond felt a tug so hard on his heart that he started jogging off. He didn't hear them calling out to him. Eventually, Altair was running beside him.
"Idiot, have you forgotten you're dressed as a Templar Knight?"
He skidded to a halt outside the gates. Here, he felt complete. With Granddad, he felt at home, but here, he felt complete. He reached out and touched the stones lightly. Altair was by his side, waving the guards off and explaining what was going on. He turned and jogged to the edge of one of the ledges, looking out over the land. It was gorgeous, and here was where he belonged. It felt like he had been here. The breeze tugged at his hair, which had grown shaggy, and he smiled. Inhaling deeply, he could feel the life in the land.
"He looks right at home here," Granddad said as he and Malik walked up to the gates.
Malik nodded. "It is his ancestral home."
The granddad was silent as he watched his grandson become absorbed by the land.
"I don't know if I can let him go."
There was a screech as a young child came running out. Altair scooped him up and threw him in the air, his eyes shining with love at the child's laughter. He kissed his son's head and hugged him tightly.
"You're home, papa!"
He looked at Granddad. "I don't know how you could either."
Granddad smiled warmly. "I remember that age with my daughter."
"Why is there a Templar?"
"He is a friend, my son."
Desmond jogged over. "It's beautiful here!"
Altair adjusted his child in his arms and nodded. "Come, there's something I must show you."
Desmond followed at his heels faithfully, walking with his Granddad, the box of thank yous in his arms and his backpack on his back. His helmet was on top of the box, and his sword bounced at his hip. He could feel the small weight of the doll in his tunic. Altair kissed his wife hello and led them up to the desk.
He pulled out a small, round object. "This is the Apple."
Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"
"Say goodbye to your granddad, Desmond; it's time for you to go home."
"What?"
Altair tossed him the Apple, and he caught it by instinct. It began to glow softly. He jumped.
"What's going on?"
"It's going to take you back to your time. Say goodbye to your granddad."
"What?"
He dropped it, but the Apple didn't stop glowing. When he looked at his hands, they were slowly becoming transparent, and he panicked, clutching his granddad close.
"I don't want to go!"
He felt his granddad hug him back. "You need to go, grandson."
"Granddad! I don't want to go! What's going on!"
He was terrified as he clung to his Granddad, the box and helmet in his hands shaking. He was absolutely panic-stricken as the Apple glowed brighter.
"We'll see you later, Desmond."
"Malik! Make it stop!"
Malik had turned away, unable to watch. "Take the sword and the doll with you. Remember us."
Desmond's breathing was erratic as he clutched to his Granddad. "I'm not leaving!"
"I love you, Desmond," he heard his granddad say.
"I love you, too," he whispered. "I'm happy here!"
He found himself in the middle of a group of soldiers. He had his box and helmet in his hands. The guards were staring at him. He glanced around and recognized the ruins he was standing in as the village of Masyaf.
"What the bloody Hell?"
"Desmond!"
He turned to see the three from the picture on the iPhun thing Malik showed him. It sent the guards into a tizzy.
"Bring them to Rikkin!"
The box and helmet were yanked from his hands, and he was bound and brought before a frightening gentleman, who was sitting and playing with the Apple. He was young, with slicked back black hair and a thin, pinstripe suit. His eyes were a creepy bluish grey, cold and icy. A Russian Blue—"British Shorthair, damnit," Shaun corrected him—sat on the corner of his desk, watching them. The walls were adorned with antique weapons, each polished and cared for extensively. In the farthest corners were beautiful cobwebs with large, black spiders crawling on them. There was a desk before him, meticulous and drab, and behind it sat Rikkin. There was a door off to the side, and several men and women dressed in servant's garb standing at the edge of the room. The wallpaper was gold in the dim chandelier light coming from above his desk. The burgundy carpeting looked more like blood from where Desmond was kneeling on the plush floor. Around him, there were pieces of Eden on shelves, and Desmond could feel the hum of their power in his veins. He could feel the grief from being ripped from his granddad, but the pieces of Eden seemed to be trying to soothe him.
"So, you are the almighty prophet of Eden, the one who will bring us down. Funny, you don't look that frightening, and you're dressed in a Templar Knight uniform."
Desmond looked at the Apple in the man's hands. He felt lost, kneeling in front of this guy, trying to accept the fact his granddad was really gone, and so were Malik and Altair.
"I want my granddad," he muttered, looking at the floor.
"Oh my God, it's really Alan Rikkin," a young woman murmured.
He whipped his head to look behind him to see the blonde woman from the iPhun Malik had shown him. He jerked at his restraints. Alan laughed.
"Tell me, Desmond, do you know the power of these pieces? After plenty of research, we've found that they say that there is a terrible beast locked inside of them, and that Those Who Came Before locked it away in these pieces, and that's what gives them their power. They found a new planet after it destroyed theirs, and started over with creating humans. They predicted that there would be one man who could access its power and would become its new vessel."
Desmond's eyes were glued to the woman. His body ached for her, and the hum of the pieces was driving him crazy. It almost sounded like a beast whining.
"Who are you?" he whispered to her.
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "What?"
"Who are you?"
"Desmond, you know I can't understand Arabic."
He tilted his head, watching her.
"Why is he speaking Arabic? What the Hell has the Apple done?"
He looked at Rikkin, who was messing with the Apple. When he touched it, it pulsed with energy, and Desmond struggled violently against the binds. He could feel the throb in his bones. Alan continued to play with it, and the energy pulsing through the room got stronger and more rapid until Desmond cried out in pain from the energy. The other pieces were joining in and causing such a painful humming in veins he felt that he might die. He cried out again, thrashing against the binds and curling in on himself.
"Can you feel the energy? Is it the god beast we heard about? Tell me, Desmond—is it calling you?"
That was the last thing he remembered.
When he woke, he jolted up and shoved the covers off the medical bed, running out of the door and into the hallways of Masyaf. He pushed people out of the way, listening to several people yell from behind him. He ran recklessly through the hallways, out the doors, and into the courtyard. Assassin novices were training there. He ran over to the ladder to the tower and climbed up, and up, and up, until he reached the leap of faith—his first one—and looked out over the land.
He didn't know how long he'd been out cold, but Desmond still felt the pieces within him like a drug. He looked out at the bustling little town: it's a modern town—it had been built back up. There were people walking back and forth, and he watched them move about. He felt it bubble in the back of his throat, and he threw his head back, screeching like an eagle into the breeze. It was loud and clear, and it felt good. He heard an eagle's call in return and a third. He stopped and looked again at the town. The people had stopped moving, looking at the man on the leap of faith. He screeched again, and he heard a chorus of three return calls.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"These lands are ours."
He looked to see the older Ezio smiling softly at him.
"They will not fall so long as the eagle watches."
He turned to the other side to see Altair, with his hood down, looking out over the land.
"They are yours, now."
He grinned as he looked over the lands of Masyaf. They felt right. "I won't let you down."
"The eagles of Masyaf have returned."
The breeze nipped at his underclothes as he stood with his ancestors on the wooden platform and watched the bustling activity of their lands. He felt powerful, standing there, the hum of the pieces of Eden thrumming in his blood. Everything felt right as he watched, and he felt like an eagle in its roost.
"Desmond?"
He turned, and Ezio and Altair were gone. The blonde woman stood there, watching worriedly with several others. He smiled warmly.
"Desmond, do you understand me? Nod."
He did so, turning back to watch his lands. He sat on the platform and let one leg dangle from the edge. He felt his ancestors within his bloodline, and he was proud to have come from such a line.
"Can you speak English?"
"Yes."
"What languages do you speak?"
"Italian, Arabic. A little Spanish. Some English. French. Sit by me."
"I would feel better if you came off there."
He patted his lap. "You won't fall."
"Desmond…" He eventually heard her walk over and sit next to him warily. "Do you even remember me?"
"No, but I know that I love you, and every time I see you, my body aches for you."
She was silent, and Desmond dared to place a hand on her leg as she sat next to him. He breathed deep of the mountain air.
"Masyaf is a beautiful place."
She nodded, and he raised an eyebrow. Feeling bolder than ever, he pushed her back against the platform and kissed her deeply, humming at how good it felt. When she pushed against his chest, he was reluctant to go with the motion, but he was glad to see she wasn't objecting to the kiss.
"Desmond, do you even remember me?"
"My brain doesn't, but my body does. I feel like I should know you, and when I think about it, it hurts here."
He bumped a knuckle against her heart, and she frowned. He nuzzled against her neck, kissing the smooth skin there. She smelled like Heaven.
"It's me, Lucy Stillman. I rescued you from Abstergo Industries."
He hummed complacently, still kissing her neck. "Really?"
"Yes, and we—st-stop that!"
He grinned and looked at her, resting their foreheads together.
"I'm trying to talk to you!"
He laughed quietly and was pleased by the soft look that crossed her face.
"We hooked you up in the Animus. Eventually, your mind collapsed from strain and you fell into a coma after finding the Apple. You stabbed me, remember?"
"No," came the immediate response, and he frowned, still pressed against her. "Perhaps that's why I feel guilty?"
"When we were both 'better,' you woke up and got sent on a mission. You disappeared, and the Templars got the Apple. After you returned, we were here, and were dropped by the Apple in front of Templar company. You went ballistic. You were foaming at the mouth and seizing, and then, the pieces of Eden disappeared, and you... transformed."
"Really?"
"Yes. You destroyed all of the Templar army here as some sort of beast. We don't have footage because you destroyed everything except the castle. You had wings and the biggest fangs. When you moved, it was like watching a ball of light. There one second, and in a different place the next. Your eyes were like pits. I've never seen anything so terrifying. Desmond, you ate Alan Rikkin."
"He must have been damn tasty. What happened after I destroyed the Templars?"
"You collapsed, and the pieces of Eden disappeared. You've been out for several months, now, as we rebuilt the land."
He hummed. "I remember Masyaf from the past. I beat Altair."
She laughed: it was beautiful. "Don't tell Shaun that."
"Shaun? He's the man with the glasses, right?"
She looked surprised. "How do you remember him, but not me?"
"Because your beauty and magnificence is so overwhelming that when I see you, I forget—"
He laughed when she slapped his chest lightly. "Stop it."
"Do you not want me?"
"I—we're working!"
"So? We'll be working until we die."
She shut up, studying him closely.
"I have the feeling I have something to show Shaun. I remember thinking about him a lot when I was here last time."
He kissed her again, trying to get her to respond, and when she did, he took the kiss a step further and rubbed his thumb against her hip. She pushed him away, swallowing thickly. "D-Desmond!"
"You don't want my affections?"
"Not here. Desmond, I have four others with me."
He glances up to see four people in white coats, looking slightly embarrassed as they waited on her. He smirked and looked back down at Lucy. "So?"
He nuzzled against her neck again, running a hand up her side. "Let me make you mine. Let the others know that you're mine, just like everyone will know the eagle has returned to his land."
She scoffed. "I don't think so. You sound like Altair or Ezio."
He smiled against her neck. "I would never be them. Malik told me not… to…"
He pulled back and looked down the undershirt. He panicked when he couldn't find the doll, patting himself down. Lucy sat up, looking frazzled.
"Desmond?"
"My doll!" Desmond said, looking at her. "Malik—Kadar gave it to me after I dug his grave! Shit, where is it? It looks just like Malik, but as an assassin!"
He was on his feet, searching the ground. Lucy placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's in your room. Why don't you calm down, and I'll take you there?"
He looked over his shoulder to see Altair and Ezio waiting on the other two platforms.
"Can I meet you at the gates?"
She nodded, and he smiled warmly, kissing her once more. Without a second glance, he darted to the end of his platform and jumped, catching out of the corner of his eye Altair and Ezio falling with him.
He'd never felt so good.
Drabble!Extras:
Desmond lounged on the couch with Shaun, watching a special on ancient Jerusalem. He had a bowl of popcorn in his hands.
"And we have just found an older man buried in what must have been a graveyard. It's fascinating!"
They showed the bones, preserved by heat.
"Could you imagine discovering that?" Shaun said. "I wonder who he was."
"And here is the stone we found him clutching."
They showed a small stone with swirling patterns. Desmond sprang to his feet, dropping the popcorn and ignoring Shaun's yell.
"That's my Granddad! That's the stone I put on his necklace!"
Shaun's brow furrowed. "What?"
"That's my Granddad! The man I stayed with when I was MIA here!"
Altair was at his desk, writing furiously. Malik walked in with dinner.
"Still messing with the Apple?"
Altair looked up and smirked. "No. I have something much more interesting to document."
He held up the pages from his Codex.
"You know I can't read the code without breaking it first."
He frowned and set them down, pulling out Desmond's gun. "Think he'll miss it?"
Lucy was frozen against the wall. Their mark lay in front of them, dead. Well, what was left of their mark. Her eyes slipped up to stare at the bright mass of energy clinging to the wall. Its legs were clinging to the wall and sticking out at odd angles. It was something between furry and feathery, if pure energy could even have a texture. Its eyes were bottomless black holes. When it hissed, slow and bone-chilling, Lucy could see its fangs.
She blinked, and it was right in front of her. She yelped and shrank against the wall as it pressed closer. The energy snapped and crackled, and the monster hissed again and began to fade. Desmond appeared, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.
"Shit, how am I going to carry him out of here?"