Sorry guys, took so much damn time to update. Sorry, life's been a bitch. Thanks to all the new readers, reviews, and all of you in general. Thank you so much. It felt impersonal to just say thanks in general.

For following;

devin conway 16. (Sorry, it wouldn't allow me to type in your name the correct way)

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DatGooz

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Capt. Jekyll

BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD FAN

Thank you all so very much for following this story, it helps to know that people are waiting on the release of a new chapter.

For the favorites;

Fallendestinyxx

devin conway 16.

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BLACK DAGGER BROTHERHOOD FAN

Thank you people so much. It brings a smile to know that someone holds this story as a favorite.

And no, I didn't forget about the reviews. Thank you guys ESPECIALLY. You guys help motivate me to write even more. I could not have made another chapter without the support of you guys. Thanks so much.

The reason for this chapter being HEAVILY delayed was my indecisiveness. I kept reworking and revising this story. Again and again and again. I apologize.

Chapter 3. Bad Medicine

"The art of medicine consists in amusing the patient while nature cures the disease."
-Voltaire

What the fuck happened? How could shit hit the fan so…so fast? That's it, he'd have to leave tonight. The media would want a piece of him after they found out that he had been 'resurrected', after all, they aren't the type to back down from something huge as someone coming back from the dead. He was going to have to disappoint the bastards though, when they look for a man who doesn't even exist. It'd be just another of those stories, that's all it'd fade into; a story, myth, rumor, whatever you'd call it.

It wasn't as if he wasn't expecting to leave some time or another, Miles did. It was to be expected. That he'd just disappear and no one would even know he existed. Rebecca had apologized about the whole "sucking your face" incident, apparently she did questionable things when excited, her retort being something like, "I was y'know…excited. I was startin' to feel like you weren't gonna' come back, but then you did. You wouldn't believe how….relieved I was. Y'know what I mean? Well, that doesn't really justify why I did that shit, but…just…well I mean I can't just ask if you have met someone that came back from the dead, but, have you? Sorry, that's beside the point," she rambled some more until she was satisfied with "I'm sorry I sorta made out with you like some-well, I'm glad you're alive."

Go figure, and she was just happy that he wasn't dead. Dead. What would happen if Desmond Miles died? And what happened to his team? Why hadn't they contacted him yet? Sure, of the four days out of a week, he'd stayed at a hospital but surely they would have gotten something to him. It was getting closer to the time when some of the hospital staff was starting to leave. Maybe if he got sleep now, he'd get up near 2 in the morning, then make his escape. His eyes felt heavy anyway. He said that more to himself than he did just confirming facts.

As he started drifting, he swore…Des could…hear something. It said "Always remember. Never forget. Don't trust, don't don't…. don't…" 'Don't what? What was it saying?' The voice steadily faded. He fell deeper still into the arms of sleep. "DON'T DO IT, STOP! You must know the-i aM YoU! The creed the creed the creed the creed-"

"When I was very young, I was foolish enough to believe that our Creed would bring an end to all these conflicts. If only I had possessed the humility to say to myself, I have seen enough for one life, I've done my part. Then again, there is no greater glory than fighting to find the truth."

Altair, you must-

"I have lived my life as best I could, not knowing its purpose, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon; and here at last, I discover a strange truth. That I am only a conduit, for a message that eludes my understanding."

Ezio, you must-

"I realize now that it will take time, that the road ahead is long and shrouded in darkness. It is a road that will not always take me where I wish to go – and I doubt I will live to see it end. But I will travel down it nonetheless."

Connor, you must-

"In a few short months my life changed forever. I know my easiest days are behind me, but I don't want them back – not now. My name is Desmond Miles, and I am an Assassin. I am an Assassin."

Desmond, you must you must you must you must-The voices piled over each other, desperate to be heard, some were even in different languages. What disturbed the man further was that, Desmond could understand them, until it all stopped, all that was left was silence-Desmond you must remember the creed. "Nothing is true; Everything is permitted."

It was winter, it was night, it was snowing, it was dark, it was a lake, it was it was it was it was it was itwasitwasitwasitwasitwas-The voices started all over again and Desmond was on solid ground, but he could see three beings rise from a pitch black lake of liquid fire made of darkness, but with them they brought a light- a bright ethereal, transcendent blue light. They weren't alive, however, they were all skeletons. Walking skeletons, dressed in garb that varied from time periods, which stopped a short foot ahead of the man among dead. His legs refused to move, his arms felt stiff, as if he was nailed into the air to stay as he was. They were all holding their hands out to him, they pointed at him. Slowly they brought their hands down, the light extinguished, he could hear their footfalls in the dark, they were coming for him, his hairs rose on the end of his neck-they were going to make him end up like them. They were going to kill him.

NO! He won't end up like them! He won't end up dead! Not like them! Not like them! Not like Them! NOT LIKE THEM! NOT LIKE THEM! Don't touch me I'm not like you Don't touch me I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not-DON'T TOUCH ME, I'M NOT ME.

"Did you ever hear the saying, 'The knowledge that makes us cherish innocence makes innocence unattainable'. Some dead guy said that. But, that doesn't make it any less true." An omnipotent voice echoed out of nowhere, riding along the wind that traveled through the trees.

"Get the fuck away from me! I won't let you touch me!" A mantra, it seemed, as that was all that Desmond would keep saying, over and over.

One was about to grab his arm, when he thought he remembered something for a brief moment in time; he knew all of them. But he soon forgot as the lumbering figure approached Miles; and they stared face to face before the thing's mouth opened, it screamed at him,

"Aleksei! Hey! Hey! Dude, wake up, you're shaking!"

Des is noticeably startled. His nightmare had a hold on his thinking.

Kill them!

Without thinking, Desmond shoots up and raises his fist to attack the damn skeleton, only to be met with a familiar face that leaves him thinking, 'What was it called again, the bleeding fiction? No. Not it. Not it.' The female stares at his fist, the man's fist merely inches away from making contact with her nose. She looks at it in question, more like an obstacle that just got in her way, then proceeds to move his arm down to the bed and look him in the eyes. Only then does the man realize that the woman before him is Lucy. He's not sure how he feels about her visiting him, she almost never did, except when it was for the tests.

"Hey Aleksei, are you alright? You almost clocked me there." She just stares at him before cracking a small unsure smile. He tries to smile back.

It doesn't work very well.

"Sorry, bad dream." Des hopes that it suffices.

It does and to his surprise, he is both relieved and disappointed.

"Well, you should get some sleep. You don't look too good."

"What about you? What're you still doing here?"

"I was just checking up on Rebecca's good friend just before I finish up some paperwork."

The way she says friend is weird, almost as if she was suspicious of his relationship with Rebecca. 'Of course she's suspicious, I started 'nom nom-ming' on her friend's face right in front of her. I might as well just be holding a giant sign reading "I kiss women after a near-death experience, go team Desmond!' He berates himself. Maybe he's still a bit groggy from his dream.

"Alright, I don't know about you but I'm going to get some more sleep in before the day begins,"

Lucy nods and goes towards the door before Desmond stops her again, "What time is it by the way?"

She doesn't look back but answers nonetheless, "It's around 2:20 in the morning,"

He nods incoherently, about to fall back asleep when, "I suggest you give God your good graces before going to bed."

He's wide awake now, 'so much for sleep. Sleep is overrated anyway, who needs sleep? Losers need sleep! I'm not a loser!' Desmond understands now. Lucy knows what he is-who he is, and he knows what she is. More or less.

He doesn't recall hearing her talk about God before, but he never saw a tattoo, no insignia, no anything (She probably kept all the dominatrix stuff in her basement). But it was enough, however, enough to put him on edge. 'Aleksei' had a feeling that he wasn't going to get anymore comfy than he was in that moment.

Click.

She left. Good. Miles didn't want her in his room anyway, with her weirdness…and stuff. 'God, I sound like a little kid whining over a stupid argument or some shit.'

He stealthily left his bed, fixing the sheets and grabbing some supplies in the small cabby (Prestidigitation, always come in handy, especially useful for entertainment at a party and stealing valuables from an unsuspecting victim, like the lady who cleaned a certain room and lost a key somehow, and the world may never know what happened to that key) that was locked until the key was produced and used. Desmond grabbed two pillows and lined it up in his bed, making it appear that it was preoccupied, when in fact, it was not.

As he left the bed to go to the window to make his hasty retreat, he heard some shuffling. It didn't sound like a struggle, more like moving around in one place, when he heard a familiar sound, "Yo, Vic' are you awake?" 'Rebecca? What's she-'

All of a sudden, in the moment that Desmond was compiling his thoughts together, suppressed automatic gunfire was being shot through the wall. He didn't have time to react as his left shoulder was hit by two bullets, causing him to careen to the floor, he didn't even have time to howl in pain the gunshots kept flying throughout the room, breaking glass, ricocheting off of the walls and metal, and the window behind him broke as well. Desmond was safe, for a moment, as he fell behind his bed and onto the floor. The gunshots stopped and Desmond knew it was only a 3 second window until the hitmen broke into the room. His mind was still reeling, 'what the fuck happened?' was the first thing to pop into his head. Followed by 'Shitheads. That's what happened. These motherfuckers can't even begin to understand how pissed they will eventually make me. Perhaps when my fucking arm stops hurting so bad.'

These guys were pros, the real deal. Luckily for Desmond, he was already by the window, so he picked himself up with all his might and leapt out of the window, just as three people donning doctor cloaks, body armor, and gasmasks came into the room and started to open fire on him. Unbeknownst to him of their current gear, they all brandished necklace designs on their gloves. While they didn't wear the insignia themselves, these were the signs of Hitmen hired by the very wealthy people who decided that apparently Desmond was another cockroach that needed to be swept under the rug.

He was tagged again, this time by the glass he passed on the jump. He tried to clear the jump, but as he vaulted over the window, a precarious piece of glass dug itself into the man's left hand, (He knew of the glass' existence, but he'd take a flesh wound over a coffin anyday) it was small and awkward; unmoved by the gunfire, it still stood tall. It wasn't that big, yet that didn't stop the pain he felt as it cut through him, causing Desmond's hand to slip while he vaulted, an anguished cry left his lips followed by a surprised shout as he fell, gunfire following closely behind him. Inside his palm, he could feel the glass rub agonizingly close to the bones in his hand.

Des tried to perform a roll to recover from his fall, but the man's roll was clumsy due to the added injuries, landing mostly on his right side mid roll, his hand being stuck with glass didn't help, as all it helped to do was dig deeper into his palm, eliciting new wails of pain.

He picked himself up as fast as he could, his body screaming a t him to stop the pain, yet his mind reeled a couple times but focused on trying to survive; stumbling a few times as he did so, giving his pursuers enough time to take pot shots at him. Miles' right shoulder was burning from the pain. It was obvious to him that he wasin a shit-ton of pain, which made sense since it took the brunt of the fall, that, and pain tended to hurt.

He broke into a sprint, running as far away from the gunshots by the window as possible. While he was running, he managed to pry the piece of glass away from his hand, he clenched his teeth as hard as possible while he formed a fist, grunting from the exertion and pain. His upper left arm was bleeding pretty badly, and while his sweatshirt was absorbing the blood, it was clear to him, he wouldn't last long like this. He would pass out from blood loss.

"Should we follow him?" said a male voice, a bit young.

"I don't know, dipshit, I mean we were contacted by our client to kill this man in order to get paid, so I guess not." It was a heavier set man, his voice deep as it growled the smartass comment.

"No need to be a smartass, we can't help it if he's an idiot." A female this time.

"Fuck you. I call shotgun." The young male said.

"Fuck you too." The female replied.

He made the effort of ripping a part of his left sleeve to bind it around the wound. As he crossed it around his left arm, he used his teeth to hold the bind in place as he tightened it. More grunts of pain, more rapidly losing blood. He used another piece to bind around his left palm, the open wound causing a blood trail. Just what he needed. Des closed his fist around the cloth, trying to stop the bleeding as much as possible. The man's wounds were beginning to numb, and he was pretty sure that he could only feel his heart and his legs, which was a double edged sword, he didn't have to focus on anything but running, however, that meant he was that much closer to death.

Luckily for Desmond, he was a really good fuckin' runner. The only way they'd catch up is if he died while running from the wounds or if they had a car, which is what he was assuming.

Desmond couldn't go out like this, there was still so much work to do, and he still had so many people's lives riding on his help. If he was gone, no one would be safe. So Desmond made it imperative that he survive. Actually survive.

…..

It had been a good 7 minute sprint, and he was pretty sure they were going to be looking for him, Miles didn't even know where Miles himself was, Desmond knew was that he took few turns here and there.

Desmond did the only thing that people in his position would do, break into a 2nd story apartment building. As he stumbled against the wall for support, he didn't care to look at the blood he was trailing across the brick wall as he rounded the front door to the establishment, the blood had seeped through the wound at this point, but since the door gave so easily, Des found himself on his ass. "Going to have to do. Guess I'll just lay low here for a while."

'Why the fuck am I speaking to myself out loud? Is something wrong with me? What am I, an insane psychopath?'

Outside, Desmond heard the stop of an engine. They must've tailed him. Goddamn it! They were probably playing with him; waiting for him to choose his final resting place. Now he'd be cornered like a rat. Guess it was time to step up his game.

'I'm going to need a pair of Jordans.'

Rebecca had heard the whole thing about Desmond escaping and didn't really understand why at first. She thought it was because of-well, she didn't really understand why he left in the first place. In some weird way, she felt like he betrayed her. Like, 'say goodbye before you leave, shithead.' Type of way. Something felt off, one could definitely tell when going to work and suddenly having a bunch of crime-scene tape and cops all over a room like, well, cops to doughnuts. Waiting for an explanation, she waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

The friend she made was a terrorist. He was one of the lead terrorists in a shitstorm that happened somewhere out east in Europe. Some place named Yugoslavia, where Terrorists had infiltrated the local military and used secret documents to locate something of importance. Everything went "Fuck-all" in some area within Serbia. It was a city where the bombings had taken place.

Nobody knew what they were after, but apparently they had found it. Soon after, the Terrorists fled and speculation was that the Terrorists acquired some type of Bio-chemical plans. Another speculation was that they weren't after something, but someone. However, nothing could prove either way. That's all it was, speculation, nothing but rumors.

The cops hadn't told her all that, she had researched it herself.

Still.

The news hit her like a ton of bricks.

She…had been friends with a fucking terrorist.

She fucking chilled (420 blaze it) with the guy.

They were cool! What the fuck?!

She had never felt so betrayed in her life than in that moment.

However…

Life continued, and it had been 3 days since the incident with the cops.

"What the fuck happened here?" Questioned an angry woman with black hair.

"Hey now, young lady, watch your language." Replied an older gentleman, he looked like he had experience in the field, wearing the uniform of an Officer. He had a strong jawline, his face wasn't rounded, it was more… sharp, if she had to name it. He had a long nose that was a bit funny looking with scars running along it. His name pin read; 'C. Reed'.

"S-sorry, what's going on?" She replied meekly, looking past the old-timer to look into a room that had been absolutely scorched.

The officer let out a huge sigh, one that told of exasperation, it was obvious this man was tired.

"Looks to me that we have a Terrorist on the loose, this was a controlled fire, guy knew what he was doin'. Goes by the name Desmond Miles, his fake alias was that of a one "Aleksei Orel". You knew im'?"

A new guy's voice pops out of nowhere, "Hey chief! Oh-ho-ho and who do we have here?"

She doesn't recognize the guy, although his nose was short and stubby, black hair looked combed over and gelled. He was a bit overweight, and had a bit of roundness to his cheeks.

The 'chief' gave him a look that said 'not now'.

"Well, yeah, but I guess not as much as I thought." Rebecca spat out the last part with venom, she was upset, confused, and angry.

Upset because this room was for patients, so they'd be down a room. Since it's current…torched state.

Confused because 'Aleksei' was her friend, but it turns out he was a Terrorist. Which wasn't a smooth transition given the current circumstances.

Angry because this 'Desmond' was a piece of shit.

"Alright then, if you don't mind, we're going to have to ask you a few questions. If you'll come with me…"

The guy had taken her to the police station where she was questioned on her whereabouts when this happened, any information to help them in catching the guy, ect.

It made sense though, Alek-no, Desmond had known of Cross before she even mentioned him, seeing as how he brought the guy's name up out of nowhere, all she said was that she was tired of her boss. She never said that her boss was Cross. It was starting to make sense. He actually scoped out the place before going in. He knew every single one of them.

Knew all of their personal information.

He probably even knew of Crosses' short temper and was going to plan something when he hit him. But it probably fell short due to his 'episode'.

Or maybe that was what he was trying to trigger in the first place, he needed someone with a short temper to trigger the episode, no idea why though. Thinking like this was getting her nowhere.

"What fucking time is it?" Rebecca spoke into thin air.

Crane even looked over to her Led styled clock to see it not working. The female techie wasn't surprised. She would always smash the damn thing to the floor when she woke up.

She heard some movement downstairs and groaned. Her landlord was at it again, at first she had thought being 'active' at that age was sweet, it turns out she was second guessing herself. He and his wife were well over 50, yet still managed the stamina of a 20 year olds. To make matters worse, she had accidentally seen some black leather 'items' fall out of a bag when they were packing to visit another house they owned in Florida. They weren't even ashamed that their intimates fell out into open view, just proceeded to greet her and pick it all up.

Some more movement. A few moments later moaning was heard, along with the sound of spanking.

'Jesus.'

Deciding that sleep wouldn't befall the woman just yet, Rebecca moved to the kitchen fully dressed in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra to grab some water , maybe some chips if she still had any left.

While Rebecca moved to the kitchen in the dark, her steps creaking along the worn, wooden floors, she heard the moaning intensify.

'Ugh, how can they even keep going like that?'

As the raven-haired woman made her way to the sink, she realized that one of her glasses had broken, Rebecca realized this because she had consequently stepped on it.

"Agh! Jesus fucking Christ-"

She went to assess the damage done to her foot when the woman smelled something.

It smelled a lot like cigarettes, and last time she checked, Rebecca didn't smoke. Well, cigarettes anyway.

Rebecca hobbled as best as she could to the light switch.

Click

What she saw made her stomach drop.

There, sitting on her counter top was her cat.

"Dammit! What are you doing on the counter, missy?" Rebecca's cat wasn't that old to be able to jump onto the counter, if indeed that was at all possible from the height of the counter itself.

The cat reacted to her words and moved closer to her, when Rebecca reached out for her cat, it purred.

"Careful next time, I could have seriously hurt myself, y'know!"

When the young woman was petting her cat, she realized that a part of her cat's fur had been stained a sticky shade of red.

"What the-"

Quickly as she came, her cat left and bounced off the counter and out of the female's questioning gaze. When Rebecca refocused her gaze back to the mobile feline, it ended rubbing itself against something very alive, sitting in her chair at her table. The unexpected visitor continued to pet the cat.

It was Desmond. She felt the nerves in her head explode a couple of hundred times over as she questioned what the hell he was doing here, and how the hell he managed to even be here.

Desmond continued to stare at the woman ahead of him.

He looked really fucking haggard. It was as if the guy would drop dead at any moment. The 'terrorist' was wearing a really big fucking trenchcoat, it was big enough to hold at least another person-besides himself-inside. She couldn't see under the table at the moment so it wasn't possible to see how far down his knees the coat drooped. Desmond's face was scratched up and was covered with small bandages. His blue eyes glinted an entire different color, if that was possible, they looked yellow. And for some strange reason, she had the urge to follow whatever command Desmond had ready, totally harmless or very, very naughty, although the feeling passed over like a wave, and anger quickly found itself surfacing.

Whenever Desmond lifted his hand to pet the cat, Rebecca could see the tight bandage around his hand, it was made obvious that the bandage wasn't going to be of much use, if the dark red blotch of blood bleeding through his wrap was of any indication.

"-fuck…" The woman finished from earlier.

"I'm going to n-" Immediately Mr. Miles was cut off, the tomboy felt the angry boiling temper within her reach nuclear levels-Hell! Feel it? Desmond could see it.-she decided to take action, in one swift movement, Rebecca made her presence known to the man looking up at her…

SMACK!

The smack echoed throughout her entire, shitty apartment, and for some reason, Rebecca completely thought Desmond would have somehow evaded her attack.

His head had careened to the side. The man before her just spit out the blood to the side onto her floor and caressed his cheek, muttering something like "Fuck all."

On the spot, the woman became lost like a child and tried to do the first thing that came to mind, "Oh my god, sorry, sorry. Holy shit, I clocked you good, are you alright?"

Why the fuck was she apologizing? This fuckface was a godddamn terrorist!

Despite her best efforts to stop all the apologizing, Rebecca had continued to do so until the man recovered from the blow.

Desmond raised a hand to signify that he was indeed alright.

She watched him turn to face her, his eyes glowing blue or yellow, and she questioned herself on which it was.

He gave her what appeared to be 'bedroom eyes' and she couldn't really gauge her feelings from somewhere between take me right now? to definitely now. All the while he stared at her- he just licked the crimson blood from his lips-and she couldn't help but feel an increase to those emotions, and to be entirely honest,she was starting to warm up to the idea of having hot, steamy sex with the supposed 'terrorist' right in her kitchen with him.

"Rebecca, you good?" It was his voice, and Jesus H. Christ, did it sound deep and inviting. 'Good? I'm waay better than good, all you gotta' do is keep talking.'

"Are you-I don't know, sick or something, do you take meds?" bouncing out of her reverie, she realized where she was, and who she was with. Right now, her brain processed two things; first, her apartment, two, Terrorist.

"You piece of shit, I hope you-MRRPH!" Miles put his good hand over the techie's mouth to silence her, which made her head swoon, to her unfathomable glee, and put a finger to his mouth. His breath held the lingering tell-tale of cigarettes, yet his entire being held the smell much more strongly.

She struggled for a second, trying to get the sudden and very inappropriate arousal out of her head. Which unfortunately caused her recently glass-wounded foot to well, procure more pain for the raven-haired beauty before the guy in the room.

Rebecca winced and let out a small groan into his palm, and that's when Desmond had tried to help.

She felt something hard and warm against the left side of her stomach, and when Desmond's trench coat opened slightly to reveal a silenced Mp5 with a sling around his neck, did she wish it wasn't the warm barrel of a sub-machine gun, rather preferring her rather erotic fantasies more than ever.

"Are you good? Where are you hurt? Were you tagged?"

Tagged? What the hell was he talking about?

Only then had he mentioned that one word that she noticed the smell of blood throughout her apartment, it wasn't thick. It smelled like it was drifting in the air around her, faint traces moving about.

She fell to her knees, and Desmond wasn't strong enough to hold her body up.

"Get off me."

Her head was starting to spin, what the hell was going on? She could only stare at her hardwood kitchen floor.

"I need you to calm down, can you understand me?"

Rebecca could barely understand him, the static in her ears was gaining more and more volume.

"-cca -ok at me. Look at -" What was he trying to say?

"Look at me."

The techie did as she was told and just focused on his face, willing the air into her lungs.

"Now, calm down."

She slowed her breathing, finding her breath hitch ever so often.

"Do you think you can stand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm-I'm good."

The female adult wobbled to her feet, holding onto Desmond as support.

"Why do I smell blood?"

"It's the only reason I can trust you right now."

Why was he being all cryptic and shit?

"What the hell does that mean?" She pressed, trying to figure out what the fuck he was getting to.

"You were going to be…'terminated', they sent guys after you. So, I know it wasn't you that tried to kill me that night."

Too much to process at once.

"Waitwaitwaitwait, just wait. First, what do you mean by 'I know it wasn't you that tried to kill me-', second; who sent guys after me, third; Why do you have a gun and look like you just got dragged by a car? Finally, why did you torch the room you were in?"

"All in order?"

"Preferably, yes, I think that's why I put them in order."

"Alright fine, but you gotta' promise me something."

"What is it?"

If he asked for sex, she wouldn't be sure either if her arousal would take the reins for her and then proceed to fuck each of their respective brains out or she would get incredibly offended and then fuck both of their brains out.

"I need you to come with me."

"Why would I go with a goddamn terrorist?" She couldn't stop the bite even if she wanted, she was incredibly frustrated and the man causing those feelings was bloodied and dirty, not to mention the fact that he was armed.

"Who the hell said that?" He demanded, his eyes lit on fire (proverbially, of course, having your eyes light on fire would be painful, unless you're Scorpion).

"Some cop that I met near your room."

"Name." He was practically seething at the moment. Rebecca thought it wise not to anger the man further.

"Uh, his name was like something Reed."

"Did his name have a 'C' in it?"

"I believe so, yeah," The techie answered while recollecting her thoughts.

"He was a bit of an older guy, dude looked like he's seen some shit."

Miles took a breath to calm down. He didn't need to get angry at Rebecca for giving him some useful information.

"Alright. First, some hitmen visited me last night, I'm guessing they used a voice recorder of some type and used your voice to distract me. Second, there's a big organization that's out to kill people like me, you weren't the main target, if anything they probably thought you worked with me. I have a gun to protect us from them. I look like hell because these hitmen were tracking me. Finally, that wasn't me who set the room on fire, it was the hitmen to cover my and their tracks."

Okay. Rebecca tried her best to take a breath and understand. Or at the very least, try to understand.

"why are you being tracked?" She felt the need to ask this final question.

"C'mon we gotta' go." Des' was completely avoiding it.

"Wait why?"

"Cause' if we don't we will die. These people will stop at nothing to kill me and you."

"Why me?"

"Because since they thought you were working with me, they sent a hit out on you. Since the men who were going to kill you in here are already dead, they can only assume that you know how to kill, thus you are my wingman." At the end of his spiel, Des' put out his hands at 'thus' and dropped them at 'wingman'.

"There were people sent in my own apartment to kill me?"

"Yes, but it's okay because they're dead."

"That's so fucked up, and just because people who were meant to kill someone does not make it okay if they end up dying instead."

"Duly noted, I'll try to remember that next time there are people trying to kill us. Now pack your things, we need to leave, the longer we stay here, more of a chance that more will show up. I need you MOVE!"

"Alright! Alright! I'm moving,"

"And please Rebecca, put on some clothes."

Had she really talked to him naked?

"Fuuuck, fuck. This is so fucked." The raven haired woman continued to repeat this while she stuffed a suitcase full of her clothes and belongings.

Approx. 10 minutes later.

"Alright, we good?"

"Clothes, suitcase, cat, cat food. Yeah, 'we good'."

"Let's move out."

"Oh, wait. I gotta do something."

"Hurry."

"Yeah, yeah, will do."

As Crane re-entered her apartment, she knocked on her landlord's door. The elderly man came to the door. The entire conversation didn't take long, the summary being;

"Today? Grandchildren? Hospital? Florida? Visit? Need? Hungry?"

"Yeah! You need to go! Meanwhile, you should stay at the house you own there!"

"Miriam! We need to pack our bags! Clay's in the hospital, and he's hungry!"

With that, Rebecca took her much needed speedily exit.

As Rebecca entered Desmond's newly 'acquired vehicle' after loading everything up in the trunk, with the cat in the back seat, She thought it time to ask some more questions,

"So, Des'-"

As they entered a red light, Des' turned to look at her,

"Rebecca?"

"Yeah?"

With lightning fast precision and extreme amounts of skill one could only muster at being totally kickass and awesome, Desmond knocked the woman next to him out with a few pressure point manipulations.

Besides, he already took precautions, she didn't have anything thing that would prove fatal if he knocked her out.

He needed to be careful. No telling who he could trust.

Although if one thing was for certain, he, not anyone else, he would make it up to Rebecca, personally. She didn't deserve this, to suddenly become a target, her life had been normal just a few days ago.

His hand drifted to her now unconscious face,

He would keep her safe, no matter what, if it cost him his life, so be it. He had made the mistake of not protecting someone he held dear before, he wasn't going to lose another person just because he interfered with their life. He would kill all who tried to so much as harm her. He was in debt to her, for fucking up her chances at leading a normal life.

The light changed color and Des' was driving away from the apartment, going to meet up with a few 'associates'.

If you haven't figured it out already, Rebecca hadn't been completely honest with Desmond on her sexual preferences, who knows, maybe sexy times?

Please leave a review, it helps motivate me to move along the process of making another chapter faster.

Till' then,

out.