Hey! An update! In the same year! Thank you everyone for your support and I can't wait to hear your feed back.

Chapter Eighteen – A New Home

Lucy sighed as she sat on the small twin bed. The bedroom was small like the bed and devoid of any characteristics. It was like a model home. Well, apartment. Staged to look like someone was living there but lacking enough personality that a potential buyer could see themselves in it. White walls, no picture frames, colourful but dull bed spread, a desk with a lamp, a closet all but empty with a spare set of sheets.

Her first day at Abstergo. Her first day officially infiltrating the Templars Italian Headquarters. And it had been uneventful. Like the room. No signs of suspicion, no signs of long term goals outside of the one advertised (though that was expected). There was a temptation to email Bill and let him know that she had arrived safely. But he most likely knew that already.

For a brief moment, Lucy eyed her duffle bag. She wondered if in the future she would be packing it again. Sure, Bill had told her that this was a long-term mission. But that didn't mean her goals wouldn't change, that her mission wouldn't change.

Standing up, she went over to her bag, unzipping it. She had to rummage through the bag a bit before she came across what she wanted. Carefully Lucy pulled out a large quilt, unfolding it and wrapping it around herself.

It still smelled like home.

It still smelled faintly of the cigarettes her dad would occasionally smoke. Like the fabric detergent her mom used on everything, even when she hand-washed things. If she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, Lucy could almost smell the maple bars her mom would bake on her birthday and around the holidays.

But the strongest scent was the hand lotion that her mom used. Hand lotion that had been given as a gift from her dad. A constant gift really. Her dad wasn't always creative when it came to gifts. But her mom loved it. Her hands were always dry and so Lucy grew up surrounded by the smells of shea butter, apple blossoms, and soft mints.

And the scents of those hand lotions were still embedded in the materials of the quilt. It helped keep the sudden homesickness at bay. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Especially with the knowledge that her mom had made it during Lucy's training at the Miles' Farm. Waiting for her daughter to come back.

Not for the first time, Lucy wondered if her mom was making another quilt. Or if she was waiting for her current mission to finish.

She was grateful for it though.

Grateful for the small piece of home.

"Ugh! What's that smell?" Shaun groaned, waving a hand in the air in front of him.

"It's Desmond." Lucy said casually.

"Well we did travel through an ancient sewer." Desmond grumbled.

"What? Did you swim in it?" Shaun asked incredulously.

Almost immediately Desmond pointed at Lucy. "She made me!"
"I was not going to toss you in the air to get a bridge lever down." She responded with a huff.

'And you weren't going to make her swim in foul water.' Altaïr added.

"Don't worry. I'll bathe as soon as I can." Desmond said, stretching slightly. "But first, let's finish unloading the truck and maybe think about how we're going to set things up."

Shaun muttered something about sewers and Rebecca was more concerned about setting up the portable Animus. Desmond began moving in the various supply crates and boxes.

The old Sanctuary was surprisingly in good condition, even with the few signs that betrayed its age. It was sizable enough for them to house all that they needed and to have a little bit of space to themselves. They would be safe from most forms of surveillance here and, with any luck, the locals wouldn't give them anything but a brief second glance when any of them had to leave the villa.

It was the best they could ask and hope for, given the circumstances. Desmond made a note to thank Lucy for suggesting Monterriggonni in the first place.

'Don't forget you talk as well.' Altaïr said gently, as if he was trying not to disturb Ezio.

In fact, Ezio had been silent since entering the Sanctuary. And Desmond couldn't bring himself to ask what had the man so silent. Not when he was certain it was due to the state of the Auidtore Villa. While the Sanctuary was in good repair, it was questionable for the rest of the once-grand home. A good portion of the main floor had seen better days, but no one had yet to see the state of the second floor and the loft above that.

The night moved on though. Shaun reestablished most of his system, Lucy had her station, Rebecca almost ready to set up the Animus once she put the final touches on her power solution, and Desmond was able to wash off thanks to a water spigot out in the villa gardens. However, the night air was a bit nippy. Hopefully they would be able to figure out a way to take of basic hygiene without too much fuss.

He walked back into the villa, eyes wandering over various spots on the wall where paintings used to hang. Where blades and shields hung for decoration. And not for the first time, Desmond wondered if his emotional attachment would be as strong as it was if it wasn't for the Animus. The thoughts and associated feelings were pushed aside for now.

Carefully he walked up the steps to the second floor, mentally taking note of the weaker steps and the ones that creaked heavily underneath his feet. He took in the decades, if not centuries, of water damage on the walls and ceilings. There was no sign of the paintings that used to hang on this level of the Auditore home and only the broken remains of Ezio's armory were left of what was once a vast collection. There was furniture that was mostly intact, and therefore most likely recreations. It wouldn't surprise Desmond if the place had been an attempt of a museum at some point or another. Until tourism and money dried up with interest in a small village between Florence and Tuscany. Something that the recent economy recession probably helped with as well.

He wandered to the small corridor and the ladder that lead up to Ezio's loft. For a long moment he stared at the space, trying to decide if he wanted to even go up. There was little doubt in his mind that of all the rooms in the villa, that Ezio's loft would be the worse off. But Desmond was curious to see what had become of the space. And he could feel Ezio's own desire to see what had become of his home.

With a steadying breath for his nerves, Desmond climbed up the rickety ladder into the old room.

"Where's Desmond?" Shaun asked.

Lucy looked up from her monitor, surveying the large space. Desmond was nowhere to be seen. But before she began working, she last saw him hauling things for Rebecca and helping set-up the Animus.

"He's looking around the place." Rebecca announced as she came down with the last of her boxes. Lucy felt her heart stop for a moment. It was going to be daylight soon. If someone saw whatever poster the Templars had put out for them, for him, and called the police…

"Don't worry. He's in the house. Probably just wants to see what things are like now." Rebecca said with a shrug.

Shaun let out a sigh of agitation, clearly not thrilled at the idea of Desmond running around either.

"I'll go see if I can find him." Lucy said as she got up from her chair.

"Have fun." Rebecca replied her attention fully on her Animus. Shaun just gave her a slight nod before returning his attention back to his own work.

It took a while to find Desmond. He wasn't on the main floor or in any of the rooms on the second. And panic had nearly begun to take hold of her when she remembered that there was a loft that she had yet to check. It took her a minute to find where the ladder was, but she found it. It was reasonably intact but Lucy was quick, trying to keep her weight from resting on the rungs for too long. The thing creaked awfully on her way up, so there was no way Desmond wouldn't know that someone was headed up. She reached the top of the ladder and peeked her head over the ledge.

There was a moment of letting her eyes adjust to the lighting. But there was Desmond, staring out one of the windows. Carefully she pulled herself into the room. The floor creaked as she approached him, but not as loudly as the ladder had. His head barely turned in her direction.

The room was dusty and over time had become more of a storage space rather than a bedroom. It was cluttered with replicated paintings and furniture, most of them covered with plastic sheets now covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Hey." Lucy said softly as she came up besides him.

He gave her a small smile. "Hey."

They stood there, watching the sky as it began to lighten. She wanted to bring up the near moments they had. But she just wasn't sure how to breach the subject.

"It's weird." He said suddenly, voice soft. "Being in the same place your ancestor was. That you've seen them live in. Knowing what it looked like, how things ran… It's really weird." He gave a small humorless laugh.

Lucy nodded. "I can't imagine what it feels like."

"I don't think it would be half as bad if Ezio wasn't remembering things on top of all that."

The sky slowly began to change from its midnight blue to soft pastels of early morning. The town slowly came to life. People moving trash bins, going to work, and some heading home after a long night shift or evening out. Lucy's eyelids felt heavy and she began to realize how long she had been up. How long they had all been up.

"It's…It's been a long day." She said softly.

"Yeah… It has."

They looked at one another. And suddenly Lucy realized that they were very much alone. Together. And that they really should talk about whatever was going on between them.

"Um…" Lucy began.

Oh yes. Very good. That's how we should start this kind of conversation. Good work, Lucy.

"…We should talk about… this thing… that's going on. Between us."

It sounded as awkward as it did in her head. And her face burned with embarrassment. Lucy couldn't bring herself to look at him. The silence was agonizing. But eventually Desmond said something.

"Yeah." He answered softly. "We… we should, shouldn't we?"

He moved away from the window, removing a plastic cover off a sofa (made in a style she was certain that didn't exist in the Renaissance period) and sitting down. She joined him but the awkward feeling continued on.

"This sounded like a better idea earlier, didn't it?" Desmond asked, a nervous chuckle leaving him.

A nervous laugh of her own left her as well. "It did, didn't it?"

"Well, it doesn't help that we've been up since… Jesus, I have no idea." He pointed out.

There was another short bout of nervous laughter. For a moment, Lucy looked out the window. The sky was lighter now and the town was becoming more awake, joining the rising sunrise.

"Desmond…" she murmured softly. "…Do we… do we… try to…?"

"Date?" he finished. "I don't know."

He heart fell at the words. How much she wanted to try for a relationship only now making itself known.

"I-I mean! If this whole thing wasn't going on, it be a littler clearer." He explained. "Or at least easier."

"You've got a point there." She mumbled.

Gingerly, he took her hand into his and she in turn laced her fingers with his. Even in the early and chilly September morning, his hands were warm. Hers' always felt cold in comparison.

"What do you want to do, Lucy?" Desmond asked, voice quiet.

She let her head rest on his shoulder. "You know, I haven't really thought about it. There hasn't been really any time."

She felt him nod, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her hand.

"I guess that makes two of us."

"So… do we just… take it from here?"

"What? Like, just carry on like always? Business as usual?"

Lucy frowned. "No. Anything but that."

He chuckled. "Agreed." A sigh left him. "Maybe… we just play this by ear. Try and spend time together every now and then."

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Like this." His hand squeezed hers' for a brief moment. "I think we can make it work."

Lucy hummed in agreement, leaning more into his side. Their hands pulled apart as Desmond lifted his arm to better accommodate her. She bit back a laugh when he seemed to hesitate placing his arm around her shoulders.

"We're never gonna head the end of this from the others. You know that, right?" he said, his voice light.

Lucy smiled to herself, enjoying the warmth he gave off (and it helped that he no longer smelt like centuries old waste water).

"Who says that they have to know?" she yawned. The long day was starting to catch up to her now that there were relatively safe and the adrenaline gone.

He chuckled and his arm wrapped around her tighter, pulling her closer. The old sofa creaked ever-so-slightly as she moved with his actions. A large yawn left him not too long after. It seemed the hours had truly begun to catch up to him too.

She turned her gaze upwards, curious to see what Desmond's expression was at that moment. What was expected was closed eyes, a smile of some sort. But for a brief moment, Lucy was taken by the tenderness in his face. There was the same intensity from earlier in the back of the truck. But it was softer. Maybe by the fact that they had acknowledged themselves to be on the same page? Or maybe that he was no longer worried about crossing some unknown boundary?

Only for a brief movement did she look away. But when her gaze returned to his did she feel her cheeks warm up. Lucy hadn't realized that one of her hands had reached out and gingerly cup the side of his face until she felt the stubble. Her thumb slowly, cautiously, stroking his cheek, as she maneuvered her body to be closer to him. The arm he had wrapped around her shoulder following her before sliding down to his waist. Her free hand coming to rest on his shoulder and his onto her other hand, pressing it closer to face before turning his lips to her palm and gently kissing it. His eyes never leaving hers as he did so.

The slight and surprisingly pleasant scrape of stubble combined with the softness of his kiss took Lucy's breath away for just a moment. And before she could begin to tell herself to kiss him, to finish what had been started in the truck and days earlier in the old hideout, Desmond pressed his lips to hers.

Her mind went blank, forgetting about Templars and Assassins; forgetting that they were in an old abandoned villa, and focused on the soft press of his lips on hers'. The musty smell of the attic room fell to the wayside as Desmond's musky scent filled her nose. The sound of the sofa creaking as Desmond pulled her into his lap were as distant as the sounds as the town below them.

She eagerly moved her lips against his, sighing as his fingers began finding a way to thread themselves through her hair. Her eyes stayed closed as he briefly pulled away only to return again. Distantly she realized that she had wrapped one of her arms around his shoulder and had been running the other through his own hair. Gently, his teeth bit her lower lip, silently asking for permission to take things further. She found herself mirroring his actions for the briefest movement. Once again they parted, only just to intake more air. And when they moved, they met half way.

Grips tightened,

Their kiss began to deepen,

The sofa creaked loudly,

And then it broke.

The broke apart, Desmond threw out an arm to try and stabilize them, and Lucy wrapped her arms around him tightly, clinging to him. Disturbed dust flew up in the air and then began to settle around them. They became as still as statues, listening for something, anything. And after what felt like an eternity, Lucy peeked around Desmond's shoulder to see two of the wooden legs of the sofa broken off and across the room. She looked at him, whose own gaze followed hers'. He looked back at her. Surprise was written all over his face just as she was sure it was for her.

And then they started laughing. Many years from now, when thinking of this moment, neither of them would remember who started laughing first.

"Okay. So my idea of taking some of this furniture for ourselves is probably a bust." Desmond commented as their laughter died down.

She smiled. "It could still work."

He grinned before placing a quick kiss on her lips. "I don't know. Everything was going fine until you crawled on top of me."

Lucy playfully smacked his shoulder. "Well, you're the one who put me here."

A low chuckle left him as he let himself lean back. "I guess I was, huh?"

She hummed in agreement as she rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed above his heartbeat. Desmond yawned, causing her to smile at the sound, only for her to echo him.

"We should go back to the Sanctuary." He murmured.

With heavy eye lids, she nodded but made no effort to move.

"I'm sure Shaun and Rebecca got sleeping bags or something set up for the night."

"Day." Lucy corrected with another yawn, eyes falling closed as she snuggled closer.

"Whatever."

Neither of them made a move.

"We really should go back down."

"But I'm comfy right here."

She could practically hear his smile.

"Trust me, if we didn't have to move, I wouldn't make you. But I tend not to sleep too well with a whole bunch of light."

With a huff she got up. "Alright, mister picky. We'll go back to the Sanctuary."

"I knew you see it my way. C'mon, we'll share a sleeping bag." They stayed silent for a long moment before Desmond began back tracking. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. I don't want to-"

A tired, but happy smile formed on her face. "I think I like the sound of that."

He fell silent at that before his own smile returned. They quietly went back into the Sanctuary, avoiding the weak spots in the stairs that Desmond had found earlier, and eventually closing the Sanctuary door behind them. If Shaun and Rebecca were still awake when they came down, neither of them knew. They did their best to arrange their sleeping space as noiselessly as possible either way.

And as Lucy drifted off, she found herself smiling, fully relaxed and content for the first time since this had all started.