Well... Here it is. The last chapter. I must say, it has been quite an experience, posting my fanfic here. As I've said a hundred times before, thank you for all of your encouraging reviews. However, now it's time to draw this fic to a close.

As for what I'll do now... I don't know. I have an inkling of some KOTOR oneshots drifting along in the back of my mind, but no other fic I have is available on this site. Now that I can finally lay this fic to rest, though, I can start work on my original novel once again.

I didn't originally plan to write a sequel to Merged Horizons, but a few of my reviews have wondered about one. I must say, if you all really loved my fic, and you would like to see a sequel, send me a PM or something. I'll probably put my Gaia account on my profile, and you can send me messages that way as well.

So, here is the final chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter Ten:

Goodbyes

Naturally, Desmond panicked.

He started banging on his door, demanding to be let in (or out, depending on how you looked at it), as a medical team carried Altaïr away on a stretcher.

From what he could see, Lucy was pale and shaking; Vidic was furious and frantic, shouting orders and yelling at the medical team, Lucy, and anyone else who was unlucky enough to be in the room. Lucy got up and started screaming something back at him, causing another huge argument.

Desmond kept screaming and pounding on his door. No one noticed through the sound-proofed walls.

Lucy and Vidic had long since run out of the room, but Desmond didn't care.

After some time, his voice had gotten hoarse, and his arm was really starting to hurt. He slumped to the ground, unable to believe it.

Lucy came back into the Animus's chamber after an hour or two, apparently attending to some sort of business with the Animus. She looked up suddenly, as if realizing Desmond was still in his room, and quickly opened the door.

"What happened?" Desmond snarled, grabbing Lucy's arm and pinning her to the door frame.

"He went into cardiac arrest," Lucy said with a strange calmness, her eyes on the ground, "A combination of the stress of the Animus and the sedatives did it."

Desmond's expression turned from anger to fear. "Is he…?"

"We were able to bring him back," Lucy said quietly, "But he's unconscious and on an IV."

Slowly, Desmond released his grip on Lucy's arm. He took a deep breath in an attempt to relax himself, and rubbed his face with his hand.

"This can't go on any longer," Lucy said quietly, bringing Desmond back from his momentary bout of depression, "We need to send him back."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Desmond said coldly, "You can't exactly help any; you've got your job to worry about…"

"That was then. This is completely different," Lucy muttered. "Now are you going to help me, or not? The best I can do is get him off of the tranquilizers long enough for him to metabolize the rest of it, and recover enough to be fit to be sent back. You're the one with the rest of the code."

Desmond glared at her, but said nothing. What she said made perfect sense; he just didn't want to admit it.

They were silent for a few minutes.

"Can I see him?" Desmond asked hoarsely.

Lucy glanced out into the Animus's chamber, then nodded and left, motioning for him to follow.

She carefully led him to Altaïr's room, and opened the door.

Altaïr was lying down, eyes closed, an oxygen tube running from his nose to a tank beside his bed and an IV dripping steadily into his arm. A heart monitor beeped rhythmically on the other side. The sheets shifted slightly as his chest rose and fell with his slight breaths; his eyelids twitched occasionally, as if he was looking around in a dream.

Desmond stared for a minute, hopelessly lost yet again.

He leaned down to Altaïr's level and whispered, "I'm sorry," into his ancestor's ear.

Lucy waited at the door. She didn't need to guess what Desmond had said.

--

"We need to take Altaïr off of the sedatives," Lucy said to Vidic, her voice echoing through the air ducts and into Desmond's bathroom. "He won't recover if we keep suppressing his heart rate with the tranquilizers."

Vidic was not pleased. "And risk him going psychotic and attacking all of our men? No. He'd kill us all."

"Not if he's confined to his room. He'll still be fairly weak; he won't need to be put back on the tranquilizers until he's strong enough to pose an actual threat."

"No."

Lucy sighed angrily. "Please, Dr. Vidic. Think of what a loss this would be if he didn't recover…"

"We could always just induce a coma."

"With his heart rate right now? You'd basically be killing him."

"Not if we were careful; if we administered just the right amount—"

"And what if we didn't? He'd be dead, and Mr. Rikkin would skin you alive."

"I understand that."

"So why take the risk? Altaïr can't harm us if he's still too weak to get out of bed."

Vidic was silent for a minute. "I—"

"I'll oversee the entire thing," Lucy said, "You can focus your energies on something else. Just leave it all to me."

"…Very well," Vidic said, sounding relieved, "We'll go with your plan of action. Just be careful; if something happens and someone dies, I'm the one who's getting in trouble."

"Yes, Dr. Vidic," Lucy said, sounding relieved as well, "Thank you."

Desmond climbed down from his sink as soon as he heard the clack of Lucy's heels against linoleum, and pretended to not have heard anything when she came in.

"Well?" he asked.

"I know you can hear everything from the air duct in your bathroom," Lucy said scornfully, "I'm not stupid." She coughed, and added, "I got permission to let him heal up, at least. I'll get him off the sedatives right away." She turned on her heel and left. "You're welcome."

"Oh, yeah, thanks," Desmond said hastily, but Lucy had already left.

--

Altaïr was faring considerably better after a couple of days; he was still too feeble to get out of bed, but he wasn't unconscious, and didn't have to listen to the beep of his heart monitor anymore.

Lucy came in with an IV bag; the first one Altaïr had ever seen. Usually they changed them as he slept, but the current one was nearly empty now. Vidic had decided that Altaïr was now too dangerous to be left to his own devices in an empty room.

Altaïr recoiled as he saw the bag, dread crossing his face.

"Shh, shh," Lucy murmured, trying to calm him down in the only way she could. She knew that Altaïr wouldn't take it well; he already had ripped the IV needle out of his arm twice, causing the medical team to bandage his arm in such an elaborate manner that he couldn't take out the needle without undoing the bandage, which was nearly impossible without a good pair of scissors. He almost seriously hurt himself when someone came in with a syringe; in a desperate attempt to escape, he accidentally tangled himself up in his sheets and fell off the bed, pulling down the IV rack on top of the startled nurse and acquiring a nasty bump to the head on his bedside table. The IV was the only option anymore.

Lucy, of course, knew that the saline solution in the bag she had swapped with the original wouldn't hurt Altaïr. If anything, it would make him stronger. But he didn't know that, and that was the problem.

Altaïr wasn't giving up without a fight; as soon as Lucy had disconnected the tube that ran from his arm to the drip bag, he jerked it out of her grasp and the metal prongs of the IV rack and coiled it up toward him. He glared at her, daring her to try and take it back.

Lucy made one or two failed attempts to get it back, before she realized it was hopeless. She didn't want to call guards in, because one of them might notice that her bag wasn't full of horse tranquilizers. She especially didn't want to call Vidic in; that would probably send Altaïr into hysterics, and he might end up hurting someone.

She only had one choice.

Lucy checked behind her nervously, and made it so that the hidden cameras wouldn't be able to see her hands. She didn't like doing this; it was too risky to blow her cover now.

Silently, she showed Altaïr her left hand, with the ring finger down.

The universal symbol for the Assassins.

Altaïr's eyes widened, and Lucy quickly put a finger to her lips.

He stared at her for a moment, disbelief crossing his face.

She nodded, her finger still on her lips.

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. He understood.

He reluctantly showed her his IV tube, and she quickly snatched it and hooked it up to the bag of saline solution. As she left, she gave him a small smile, and pressed her finger to her lips once more.

Altaïr nodded, and laid back his head. As he drifted back into sleep, he let out a content sigh; his hunch had been right all along. Lucy was an Assassin spy.

--

Either Altaïr was a very good actor or Lucy had accidentally forgotten to swap IV bags; he acted mostly the same as when he was on the tranquilizers before: he mostly slept, reacted strongly to bright lights, and looked downright miserable most of the time. However, she knew he was only faking; when she'd come in with another bag of saline solution to swap out with the old, he'd smile subtly, before squinting and turning away.

After some time of this, Lucy managed to convince Dr. Vidic to let Desmond see him again.

"Hey, Altaïr," Desmond said cautiously as he walked into the room.

Altaïr squinted up at him, as if he couldn't focus his eyes. Desmond saw the spark in them, though; Altaïr was back.

"Desmond?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Lucy intervened. "You have ten minutes, Dez. Any longer than that and Vidic will come and drag you out." Pausing for a second, she whispered, "The security guard currently on video duty is also taking a nice break. He'll be back in ten."

Desmond was about to thank her, when he had a revelation. Since when did she call him Dez?

Lucy left quickly, leaving Altaïr and Desmond alone.

"Nice to have you back, Altaïr."

Altaïr smiled and propped himself up. "It is nice to be back. I knew we could trust her."

"Yeah, she kind of surprised me there; I never would've expected her, Vidic's assistant, to be the one to help me get you back." Desmond shook his head in disbelief. "I thought all Templars were bad, but I've been proven wrong."

Altaïr paused. Desmond hadn't figured it out yet.

Should he tell him?

"Indeed, she must be one of those odd ones with a sense of justice," Altaïr said discreetly. With a small, internal smile, he thought, I'll let him figure it out for himself.

"We've only got a couple more minutes, but she's going to help me send you back," Desmond explained quickly, "She says that Vidic is having a major meeting with his boss in a couple days, and we'll try and get you out of here then."

Altaïr stared at Desmond for a moment. "Send… me… back?"

"Yeah," Desmond said, a little bit sad, "Back to your own time. Back to Masyaf."

Altaïr couldn't believe it. Finally.

He was going home.

"I am going home," he whispered to himself.

"Yep," Desmond said, "And soon."

Lucy came back to the door, this time brisk and professional. "Time's up, Desmond."

Desmond turned back to Altaïr before leaving. "Concentrate on getting better, okay?"

Altaïr just stared up at the ceiling. "I am going home."

--

"Are you sure you've got everything covered, Lucy?" Vidic said nervously, checking and rechecking his briefcase, notes, files, tie, and clothes as he prepared to leave the lab to fly on a private jet owned by Abstergo; his recent blunders had made Mr. Rikkin quite irritated, and he wanted to make a good impression at their meeting.

"Yes, Dr. Vidic," Lucy said mechanically.

"Positive?"

"Yes, Dr. Vidic."

"Are you sure?"

Lucy sighed. "I have everything under control. No problems." She stalled for a moment, before asking, "Are you going to tell Rikkin about…"

"No," Vidic said quietly, "He does not need to know. I'm already on a short leash and over my time limit. He'll be homicidal if I tell him I've been using some of my time to test an experimental machine, no matter how successful it is, especially since our most vital test subject almost died." He glanced around conspiratorially, and added, "It will just be between you, me, Desmond and Altaïr. No one else needs to know." He started out the door, then added, "If it's at all possible, try and see if you can get any information out of Altaïr's memories; I don't want the time to be wasted."

Lucy nodded obediently. "Yes, Dr. Vidic." She paused, before adding, "What if we can't get any more information? Do I just send him back?"

Dr. Vidic took a deep breath. "Not if you can help it. Try everything before resorting to that. What is it those Assassins say? Nothing is fact—"

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," Lucy said quietly.

"Good memory," Dr. Vidic said, his mind too frazzled to notice the absolute solemnity that Lucy had said the six words.

As soon as Vidic was gone for five minutes, Lucy arranged for the guards to take a well-deserved break, and got Desmond over to help her get Altaïr out of their time.

Altaïr was pleased to see them; Lucy quickly unbandaged his arm and removed his IV needle, making it so there wouldn't even appear to be a wound.

Lucy led Desmond and Altaïr to a separate lab, where she managed to find Altaïr's Assassin robes and weapons locked away in a storeroom. Someone was supposed to study them, but it never got done. She handed them to a very grateful Altaïr, who almost immediately started stripping. Desmond explained to him that he was making Lucy feel very, very awkward and that there was an empty storage room over on his right and a bathroom some ways down the hall.

"How exactly does this thing work, anyway?" Desmond asked as the trio raced down the halls to the Phoenix Project's room.

"It's mainly composed of a wormhole generator," Lucy said quickly, "That specifies a particular DNA signature in the timestream and creates a space-time vortex which attaches itself to the subject DNA signature, and then propels the subject in question through the space-time continuum to a particular place in the present, where the subject is released through the wormhole's exit."

"…Right."

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?"

"No."

Lucy sighed. "It makes a wormhole that finds the specific person or animal that you program it to, and takes it into the future."

Altaïr was still strapping on his weapons when Lucy ushered them into the Phoenix Project's room. It was a little dusty; her hands left definite marks on the touchscreen once she re-activated it, the screen humming almost excitedly.

For the first time in more than two weeks, Altaïr flicked out his Hidden Blade. He smiled as it slid out with only the faintest "schnick", and gleamed in the light. Oh, how he had missed it.

Lucy was typing in the code for the Phoenix Project's operation madly; Desmond hadn't realized how long and complex it was until Lucy had paused, deleted some portion of it, and retyped the missing parts for about the fifth time. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Almost positive," Lucy said without looking up from the touchscreen.

"Almost?"

"It's not really been tested…"

Desmond paused. "So… This is all in theory."

"Yes."

"And it could go wrong."

"It could've gone wrong when you called him here," Lucy snapped, "But it didn't. I've written down the reversal code as best I can." She typed some more, and then paused. "What was the date that you brought Altaïr here?"

Desmond thought for a minute. "Er… It was Wednesday the other week…"

Lucy did some quick mental math and typed down her answer. "The time?"

"Um… About 3:30?"

She finished typing her half of the code, and turned to Desmond. "She's all yours."

Desmond hunched over the touchscreen, and began to type.

He started slowly, as his mind struggled to remember the code; as his mind began to remember the flow, he typed faster and faster, until the one key left to press was ENTER.

"Alright, it's done," he said to Lucy. Altaïr was already standing inside the metal tube, eager to be out of the future and back home.

Desmond looked up at his ancestor for what seemed to be the last time. "So… I guess this is goodbye."

Altaïr paused, then nodded.

Desmond took a deep breath, then said, "Bye, Altaïr."

His ancestor smiled sadly. "Goodbye, Desmond."

"I'll miss you, I guess."

Altaïr just shrugged. "I am always close at hand; I am in your blood. You do not have to look far."

Desmond stared at the ENTER button; it mocked him. The past few weeks had certainly been an experience like no other.

Turning away so he wouldn't have to see, Desmond hit ENTER.



Altaïr felt himself lapsing into unconsciousness; whatever force had taken him to his descendant's time had hit him with the force of a tidal wave, causing him to nearly black out. It took all his willpower to not pass out right then and there.

He slowly found himself sinking down into the ground that had suddenly materialized beneath his legs, and was falling… falling…

A voice called out to him. Altaïr…

Altaïr…

"ALTAÏR!"

His eyes opened a crack, just as a slap struck him hard on the cheek.

Altaïr's eyes fluttered open and he squinted up into the silhouetted figure looming above him, the sun shining painfully bright. "Malik? Is that you?"

"No, it's Robert de Sable," the silhouette said with a sarcastic tone, "Of course it's me, you fool. Al Mualim has been looking for you everywhere."

Altaïr blinked; was he really back home?

"I thought you were supposed to be in Jerusalem…"

"The Bureau leaders are supposed to give a report to Al Mualim today. I just finished mine, before he sent me looking for you."

Altaïr was still skeptical. "Malik, what day is it?"

Malik rolled his eyes, but told him; the same day Altaïr had supposedly left.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Gone?" Malik said, raising an eyebrow, "You just got back from your assignment in Acre; what do you mean, gone? Al Mualim has been looking for you for a good thirty minutes, at the very least."

Altaïr blinked. He could've sworn he was gone for over two weeks, but had it only been a half hour?

It must have been a dream.

A very strange dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Even now, as Altaïr got up and dusted off his Assassin robes, it was fading in his mind; the pain of the syringe and the awful medicine, the horror of the Animus, the terror he had felt were all just memories now, and quickly being forgotten, as he forgot most of his dreams.

One image refused to erase itself, however; a face nearly identical to his own, with a sad smile and a mournful look in those striking, dark green eyes.

"Desmond…"

Malik scowled. "You've finally gone crazy, haven't you?"

"No," Altaïr said quietly, staring up to the sky, "Just a dream."



He was gone.

Desmond couldn't really believe it; Altaïr was gone.

He felt Lucy's hand on his shoulder. "He's home now, Desmond. Don't worry about him; he can take care of himself."

Desmond nodded, more to himself than Lucy, and asked, "How are you going to explain this to Vidic?"

"Altaïr's heart got dangerously close to giving out again, so I kept him isolated for a couple hours to burn off the tranquilizers, and sent him back." She glanced over at him. "Right?"

"Right."

"And you agreed to work with me on the Animus to make up for lost time?"

"I never agreed to that."

"Vidic will be furious otherwise."

Desmond sighed. "Alright, I guess."

Within a few minutes, Desmond was back on the Animus. He used his eyemouse to search the DNA strands to where he left off, and was relieved to see his vision cloud over as the synchronization became successful.

Altaïr was right; all it would take Desmond was a trip to the Animus to see him again.

-The End-

Thank you all, again, for reading my fanfic, and for all of your reviews.