Assassin's Creed: Apotheosis

By: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer:

Assassin's Creed belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft. I am only borrowing them for my own amusement and that of my muses and fans. I will return them a bit battered, but otherwise unharmed (mostly).

Alert: Long chapter is very long.

Story:

Chapter 57 – Apotheosis

His eyes felt like sandpaper scraped across too thin of a surface as he cracked them open. The insistent shaking that had been on his shoulder stopped as soon as he saw blurred figures in his field of vision before he blinked his eyes several more times. His fight or flight instinct was muddled and felt weary otherwise, Desmond knew that he would have had his blade at the throat of the person who had shaken him awake.

"…coming awake sir," the voice was definitely not one he recognized as he blinked some more, his brain slowly starting up its functions as he vaguely recognized the outlines of his familiar hospital bedroom, the shapes of people crowded around him- Wait a minute…

Desmond blinked some more and tried to pull himself up as he knew that there should not have been this many people in the room and shook his head, trying to clear away the mental cobwebs he could feel were the onus of extreme fatigue, brought on by the effects of the Lance taking away his memories, or at least a memory of an ancestor. He could feel Altaїr's wariness swimming about him, his most dominant ancestor trying to assess the situation, but also a fog-like barrier around that awareness, as if he could not quite penetrate it. He wondered if something related to Altaїr had been stolen by the Lance when he had destroyed the Piece of Eden down in the vaults.

"…day is it?" he tried to ask, but the words seemingly tumbled out in a mumbled rush.

"December 20th," Lucy's voice made him look towards where she spoke on his left side and the blurry outline of people started to slowly form into actual figures around him.

"That's…" he barely suppressed a yawn as he blinked some more, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, "that's…"

"Desmond, stay with us," thin cold hands touched his bare forearm and he jumped a little from the touch, waking up some more with the rush of adrenaline through his body and saw that Lucy had grabbed his bicep before withdrawing her hand. "Sorry…I was outside a few minutes ago," she apologized quietly.

"…Yeah," he muttered before looking around him to see Rebecca having taken up Lucy's original chair beside his bed working on a laptop, her eyes concentrated on the screen. Behind her was Shaun who was trying to look at something over her shoulder while also shooting looks at him but at the same time trying hard not to look concerned. Standing by the door was a woman he vaguely remembered seeing at his father's enclave until he realized that she was Melinda the second-in-command and the same woman who had caught the teenagers outside.

Brad, of all people was standing next to Melinda, looking decidedly uncomfortable and Desmond saw him nod a silent greeting before pointedly looking towards the shadows where the curtains were still closed across the windows of his room. He followed Brad's gaze to see two golden orbs staring back at him and tilted his head a little in greeting to Altaїr to whom he saw the barest acknowledgment; his fellow assassin not even moving from where Desmond suspected he had been keeping watch.

It was oddly touching really, that Altaїr cared enough to be in the room, but then again, perhaps everyone else was in the room because of Melinda and as Desmond felt a little more awake, he turned to look back at Melinda.

"Let me guess, you called Quinn," he suspected that it was her voice that he had first heard when he had made his trek towards consciousness.

"Your friends insisted on being here when you woke up," Melinda's voice was neutral and Desmond detected no hint of animosity or annoyance, just simple acceptance. He did not know whether it was because he was Bill's son or because like Melinda, he was a fellow survivor of the hidden enclave, or even because of Altaїr's presence in the room.

"Thanks," he quirked a tired smile, "though I'm sure everyone's probably seen me take a nice long beauty nap."

"Nothing pretty about you Miles sleeping like a log," Brad muttered quietly in the room, but in its stillness, broken only by the muffled sounds of traffic in the streets below, everyone heard it.

Desmond stared at Brad for a moment before giving the other man a crooked smile as Rebecca tried to stifle her sudden snickers and even Shaun looked surprised. "Could say the same to you buddy, passed out in front of the bar and completely plastered."

Brad had opened his mouth to retort, but shut it as soon as a knock came on the door and Melinda opened it, revealing both Dr. Bakes and Quinn Andrews. Desmond suddenly felt something alien awakening in his mind and grimaced. He glared at the doctor and shook his head. "Get out of here," he said tightly, noting that everyone had turned to look at him, but did not waver in his gaze on the doctor whose lips formed an 'o' before she wisely retreated.

As soon as she had disappeared from view, Desmond relaxed a little, forcing himself to unclench his right fist as he pulled it out from under the covers, pushing himself up a little to sit instead of half-lying on the bed. He could feel Lucy letting go of his hand to help him rearrange his pillows to better support himself as Quinn approached, his expression not quite maintaining his neutrality, but neither was it completely hostile.

"Please leave, all of you. I would like to talk to him alone," Quinn asked, looking around to the gathered group and Desmond noted with some amount of pride and satisfaction that no one, not even Melinda had moved and instead were looking at him, silently telling him that they would stay even in defiance of Quinn's orders.

He also noted that Quinn's lips had thinned in annoyance at the fact that no one heeded his orders, but before the man could say anything Desmond nodded his assent to talking one-on-one with Quinn. He saw Shaun sending him a pointed look and shrugged before the Englishman returned one of his own and got up, Brad following him as the two headed out. Melinda followed them out before Rebecca noisily pushed her chair back and hurried out, eyes still on her laptop, but waved a cheerful goodbye to him.

"Are you sure?" Desmond turned to see Lucy half-standing up from the chair she had pulled next to the other side of his bed. He suspected that she was probably the one shaking him awake, otherwise his instinct to attack whoever was foolish enough to shake awake a predator would have taken over in those few seconds between conscious and unconsciousness.

"I'll be awake," he offered lamely, but she only smiled in understanding, knowing that while he was awake, he was probably not fine.

"I'll be outside then," she patted him gently on the shoulder before rounding the bed and headed out, closing the door behind her.

"Master ibn la-Ahad-" Quinn looked towards the shadows where Altaїr stood like a silent sentinel.

"He stays," Desmond cut Quinn off stonily, "and if you have a problem with that, well then I'm going back to sleep and you can face Iltani all by yourself."

Quinn glared at him before walking the rest of the way over and dragging the chair that Rebecca had been occupying, towards the foot of his bed and sat in it, leaning forward so that Desmond got a view of the dual hidden blades the man wore under his sweater. Desmond mimicked the move by lifting his arms out from under the cover and noting that his left blade was missing, an IV line stuck in the vein where the catch of his bracer should have been. But no one had touched his right arm, where the sliver of the Lance of Longinus sat.

It glowed a little, fading away slowly and Desmond knew that it had reacted with Dr. Bakes' presence. She had to have been holding her medical tongs close to her when she had arrived. He suspected that it had been deliberate on her part, Sethlans probably forcing him to become more awake by having the Lance suddenly invade his mind. While a part of him was a little grateful for the second metaphoric jolt of adrenaline, he was also very annoyed by it.

"I heard what you said," Quinn started conversationally, staring at his right arm.

"I say lots of things," Desmond knew what Quinn was referring to, but could not resist baiting the man. He still was a complete ass in his opinion, too absorbed in the here and now instead of thinking of the possibilities or of the fact that there were far more important things than just the Templars.

"Listen Miles, cut the bullshit-"

"Or what, back into your little office interrogation room?" Desmond rolled his eyes, "listen, just what the hell are you here for? To arrest me because I said I shouldn't have given the Lance to Iltani? Or for the fact that she's coming?"

"Both you jackass," Quinn shot back tightly, "just what the hell is going on?"

"Oh," Desmond nodded, plastering the most insincere smile on his face, "now you get it-"

"Miles-"

"She's coming, end of story," he dropped the smile and leaned forward a little, "I got her pissed enough to come here, to Montreal, probably tomorrow when the world's going to burn, and she's coming after me and me alone."

"What the fuck possessed you to do that? No wait, that damned thing on your fucking arm did-"

"Of course it did," Desmond interrupted him, "and you know what? It may just give your little assault on Johnson Space Center a chance to actually do what you want it to do now. I still think it's stupid, because stopping a rocket launch at NASA isn't going to do the trick. Plus, the Templars will launch that rocket, no matter what. All you're doing is senselessly sacrificing good men and women for nothing."

"Just because you want it to launch you fucking Templar-loving-bastard," Quinn hissed at him and Desmond narrowed his eyes.

"You leave Lucy out of this," he knew exactly what Quinn was trying to imply and glared at him.

"You're no better than the Templars," the man met his look with one of his own, "and if it weren't for your fucking attack dog back there-"

"You think Altaїr will do as I say? Buddy you've got a more serious power complex than you think," he barked out a laugh, "you want to know why I have him here? He's here to make sure that if I end up getting possessed by this thing, I get to have a nice clean death. Possession by a Piece of Eden isn't pretty, but you would know that wouldn't you?"

"Aubry died because of you," Quinn sat back, staring at him, "died because you decided it would be nice to take a jaunt to the vaults and destroy the only weapons we have against the Templars-"

"No one should have them!" Desmond shook his head adamant, "no one. Not you, not me, no one-"

"You fucking have one!"

"Because I don't want anyone else suffering on my account!" he half-shouted, feeling his anger rise again. Desmond blew out a noisy breath in an effort to calm himself down. "No one, not even you, should go through what I had to go through these few months. No one."

"You didn't have to do that, you know. We lost three good members of the Order just because you decided it would be a great idea to piss off Iltani and now she's coming here! Desmond, we're already thin enough! You want to bring down the rest of the Order up here? Is that it?! Kill us all?!" Quinn pointed a finger at him, "Because if you do, or even if you don't you're no better than Daniel Cross! Except he was a hidden mole. You just are outright hanging a fucking giant sign outside saying, 'look here we are!'"

"It's better than the alternative," Desmond shook his head.

"Which is?" Quinn snorted derisively.

"All of us ending up enthralled by the Pieces of Eden up there," he pointed upwards with a finger and the leader of the bureau shook his head.

"Which is why I am trying to stop her! Stop the launch!"

"That's only a short term plan, Quinn," he countered, "you're not thinking of the long term goal. There are already hundreds of Pieces up there in the sky because of constant NASA and even other country launches! Why do you think the fucking telecom business boomed so suddenly? Some of the satellites launched in the thousands up there have Pieces of Eden in them. I'm sure Rebecca at least gave you the map we stole from the servers through her office in New York so that you can see and verify for yourself right?"

Quinn only stared stonily at him and Desmond continued, knowing that he had hit the mark, "Sure stopping this one will stop the Templar's plans, but guess what genius? They have others. They can get one of their allies to launch it. I remember Mom and Dad saying that there are at least thirty Abstergo products in any given household in the U.S." He lifted up his arm with the IV attached, "I'm willing to bet at least the tubes if not the needle here is Abstergo made. Quinn, she wants to control all of those Pieces up there. You know as well as I do what they contain."

"I-"

"Don't say you don't believe it because you do. Deep down you know that I'm right."

"They can be used-"

"The Pieces of Eden want you to think that. How did Aubry act before he died, huh?" Desmond knew that he was being cruel and could see that his words were hurting Quinn, judging by how the man flinched, and on some level wondered if the man mentioned was close to Quinn, but pushed past it. He needed to be cruel in order to make the other man listen, to understand that there was so much more at stake.

"You leave Aubry out of this," Quinn hissed back quietly and Desmond shook his head, leaning back against his pillows.

"No one should be using them," he deigned to respect Quinn's wish as Quinn did with his request to leave Lucy out of their conversation, "no one. They've done nothing but bring grief to anyone and everyone who's used them. Tell me of one moment in the history of our Order did a Piece of Eden bring good fortune? Tell me one moment and I will tell you that I was wrong."

He could see Quinn thinking, wanting a chance to prove him wrong, but the man's expression slowly morphed into resignation before he shook his head and looked away, rubbing his chin. "Nothing…You…you are right-"

"I am not right, Quinn," Desmond could literally see the man's world shattering around him, "nor am I wrong. I'm just trying to stop all of this…"

Quinn nodded, not really looking at him, still staring out towards nothing before he grudgingly sighed, "What…what do you need me to do?"

"Just…listen, okay?" Desmond licked his lips, "you trained under my dad, right?"

"…Yeah…and another Master before he sacrificed himself to let us escape to here," the other man slowly turned to look at him.

"You probably had contingent plans in case the city wasn't Assassin friendly right?"

"Sudden official bribing and the sorts, yeah," the young leader nodded, the spark in his eyes reigniting, "but Montreal is an Assassin-friendly city, though some of its members are Templar affiliated."

"Iltani will probably come with an army of sorts, I don't know of what, but she'll probably come with an army," Desmond was not a tactician and he knew he was completely winging it as to what Iltani would bring.

"I can have the ones I had sent down to Johnson and Kennedy Space Centers double back and intercept her-"

"No," Desmond shook his head, "they'll be vulnerable."

"What?" Quinn frowned, "How?"

"The satellites," Desmond gestured towards the ceiling once more, "once the satellite launches and is positioned to activate, it will activate all of the other Pieces around the planet. People…"

"Everyone who is not immune or at least has some resistance will be enthralled," Quinn finished for him, looking back and forth between him and Altaїr who had stayed silent through the whole conversation.

"Hopefully only for a few seconds," Desmond glanced down at his right bracer, the thin blade of the Lance nestled within, "but knowing Iltani, she will want to drag it out as long as possible…"

"How? Oh wait, using the Lance right? And her own Piece?"

Desmond nodded, "Which will probably resonate and connect to the ones up there and probably hidden around the planet."

"That'll give her an even bigger army," the other assassin looked mildly horrified at the scenario, "and if my men and women…"

Desmond nodded before looking at his room's door, his Eagle Sense picking out the outlines of the others who had waited outside, and raised his voice a little, "Lucy, I know Dr. Bakes is out there. She can come in providing she doesn't have that Piece with her."

The door opened a few seconds later and Lucy smiled at him as Dr. Bakes stepped in, looking calm and not at all flustered. She shut the door behind her and stared at him with a mild expression on her face.

"What's the range of your Piece?" he asked, noting out of the corner of his eye Quinn starting in surprise. So he did not know that Dr. Bakes had a Piece of Eden with her and perhaps also of the fact that she was Sethlans. Though it did not make sense since he could have easily watched the recordings of him while he had been with her – yet at the same time, Desmond realized that the doctor could have some how blocked those recordings or done something to them with her Piece. The medical tongs of Hephaestus were an unknown quantity, but if there was some consistency with the Pieces of Eden, he knew that they at least influenced human minds.

"Not enough to cover this office building if that is what you had in mind," she replied in a mild tone.

"Enough for several floors?"

"Four, no more than that I would think. And…" she pointedly looked at the Lance on his arm and Desmond shook his head.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied. He literally had no idea what was going to happen when he unleashed the full potential of the Lance upon all of the Pieces of Eden in the world and above the Earth, but he just needed something to protect the innocents in the building, especially the families that had escaped with them. "Can you counteract her influence? And the others too?" he looked at her and saw her nod, the too-old eyes of Sethlans reflected back at him.

"I will certainly try. I did create them," there was the slight hint of smug superiority and while Desmond knew that he should have been annoyed by it, he also knew that Sethlans would not lie about something like this. He looked like one who was ready to accept his fate, however long it was coming.

"Miles, what the hell is going-"

"Get anyone who isn't a combatant into the hospital wing and on these floors. Tell them to lock the doors from within so that no one can open them from the outside. Dr. Bakes can protect them with her Piece-"

"I wasn't aware that Dr. Bakes had a Piece-"

"There are many things you are not aware of Master Andrews," Dr. Bakes pursed her lips a little, "and many of them I hope you do not become aware of. The truth itself is very painful and I am sure that you have figured that one out for yourself."

"Are you…like Master Altaїr back there?" Quinn wore an unreadable expression on his face, but Desmond could see that the other man was starting to realize that while he knew of Altaїr and Ezio as their names, he had not quite believed that they were the original Altaїr and Ezio until now.

"Yes and no," Dr. Bakes only smiled enigmatically before the barest of snorts from the shadows of the room told Desmond that Altaїr was thinking along the same lines as he was – Sethlans may claim to be sympathetic to their cause, but he was like the others, always taking the opportunity to be overtly dramatic and enigmatic just because he was part of the First Civilization.

"Yes and…no?"

"She can tell you later," Desmond cut in, shaking his head and earning a glare from Quinn, but ignored it, "the main thing is that, you have to emphasize to the others that they cannot, for whatever reason, let anyone into the rooms until it's all over."

"And how do we know when it's over?"

"Because there will be a moment where you will find yourself compelled to kill your neighbor, your friend, even hunt down your lover, and you will not be able to resist the impulse," the doctor's expression morphed into a deadly serious one, "you will not realize this impulse until you have finished committing the deed."

"That's…"

"Only a kindness and a guess at that. We can influence you to dance like chickens, or even do sinister things you thought not capable, but Tinia will want a bloodbath to kick start his domination of your race. We can do far worst," she said in a simple tone before her voice softened, "I am sorry to say, Master Andrews, you do not have the bloodline needed to at least resist in a capacity like Master ibn la-Ahad was to Al Mualim."

Quinn frowned at that, but Dr. Bakes continued, turning to Desmond, "I will help identify those amongst the Order who have had training and bloodline resistance to help you set up the defenses when she attacks. But beware, you will be few, and she will have numbers."

"I don't want to sit in here while a war is raging right outside my door-"

"Better to be safe than to be enthralled by a Piece of Eden," Altaїr spoke up quietly, the first words he had said since Quinn had asked to see Desmond and all turned to look at him. Desmond understood exactly where his ancestor was coming from and felt the same presence within echo his sentiments with grim darkness. He also understood on another level that Altaїr was talking about his own experience with the Apple of Eden and his possession by Juno. Both knew that he had been very lucky to have survived the destruction of the Apple and it had only been through a sacrifice he could not quite remember, except for tears of joy and sorrow that told him that…she…was free….that had somehow saved Altaїr.

Quinn looked at all of them before shaking his head in resignation, "Fine, but I'm setting up a remote facility on this floor. I'm still in charge here."

"Do I look like I'm disputing that?" Desmond interjected dryly and received a glare in return, but ignored it. He knew Quinn was posturing and also figured out that the man had essentially seen him as a threat to his powerbase just because he was the son of William Miles and had both the backings of the legendary assassins behind him. Desmond also knew that there was no sense in trying to explain to Quinn that he did not care to be the new leader of the Order, he just wanted to finish this and go back to his life of obscurity.

"Did she tell you how many forces she's bringing? And just because you were able to piss her off means you've got some kind of connection to her, so if you'll forgive me, I'm not letting you in on the plans," Quinn asked a bit testily, having recovered from his initial shock of seeing his world crumple around him.

"She's not sitting in my head if you're worried," Desmond shot back, but a small part of him wondered if it was really true. The connection between him and Iltani had never been explored and as far as Desmond knew, the only time he had been able to talk to her was when he was utilizing the Lance's powers. He really wished he had talked to…wait a minute, he thought he saw in his mind's eye a woman with dark hair and a sorrowful disposition, but also of pride. She had taught him how to use a gun, but he could not quite remember why…

"Desmond?" Dr. Bakes' prompt snapped him out of his musings and he frowned.

"I…can't remember… Altaїr, someone taught me how to use a gun, right? At the military base?" he looked at Altaїr, shaking his head a little, "I…know…those were the memories stolen by the Lance right?"

"Arden. Her name was Arden Allen," Altaїr said softly, "she was my apprentice."

"Oh…okay, sorry," Desmond nodded his thanks before turning back to Quinn, "and to answer your question, no I don't know how many she's bringing. But she's probably going to bring a lot more once that satellite is in position."

"I could have the police force set up a barrier-"

"No, too many potential people for her to use against us," Desmond shook his head, "maybe you're better off having the police set up a quarantine zone or something…"

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent," Quinn mused before getting up, "fine then. But I can't have you involved in the planning. You're still an unknown quantity as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't worry about me. I've got my own plans," Desmond planned to be standing next to the Piece of Eden in the vault when the satellite was in place and the whole Eye-Abstergo system was activated. The possibility that he would be able to stab the next Piece without Iltani's interference was sketchy at best, considering that he was sure that she would overcome whatever Quinn and the others planned to throw at her, but he could still hope.

The only reply he received was a look from Quinn before the man left, leaving Desmond to finally collapse back onto his pillows, the exhaustion he had been feeling since he had woken up almost overwhelming him. He shook his head, at least he thought he did and looked blearily up at Dr. Bakes and Altaїr, "One of you needs to give me adrenaline, something, because I can't…stay awake…"

Dr. Bakes stared at him shrewdly before shaking her head, "As a doctor, it is my recommendation that you rest. Your mind and your body have been through a traumatic event and is thus coping, but you will not, will you?"

Desmond managed a wan smile at the doctor as he saw Altaїr push himself away from the wall he was leaning on, giving him a small nod before leaving the room. It was only after the door closed that he registered the doctor's words and frowned. "Body? I feel…fine, I mean, besides having the IV in me."

Dr. Bakes grimaced a little, chewing her lower lip before speaking, "You were nearly shot, Desmond. Bullets grazed you, but it seems the Lance decided to heal those wounds when I tried to bandage them up."

"So?" Desmond felt like he was missing something here, something important. He understood that the Lance perhaps took the remnants of a memory of one of his ancestors and used it to heal himself and while he was a little angry that it had taken the memory away without his consent, he also knew that he really did not know how to force it not to do what it did. The words he had spoken to…Ezio, that was the man's name, Ezio, about winning its allegiance were true.

"Desmond do you remember what happened after you destroyed the Piece of Eden in the vaults three days ago?" the doctor looked at him and Desmond shook his head.

"Vaguely," he replied.

"Master Auditore was shot," Dr. Bakes said quietly as Desmond stared at her, the news sinking and a horrifying realization filled him.

"Shit," he breathed out quietly as the memories came rushing back to him. He remembered someone pushing him out of the way, but had not realized that it had happened in the vault. He had thought it was within that eerie place, perhaps in his mind, but definitely not in the vault, that he had been shoved away by someone else, someone trying to protect him from Minerva's wrath and hunger. It had happened before, the first time he had entered and destroyed two Pieces of Eden.

He closed his eyes a little as he searched the foggy recesses of his memory; he had heard sounds that were foreign and different. Pops that did not feel like they belonged in whatever ancestor had sacrificed to allow Minerva to take the memory. The pops were from a gun being fired, or perhaps several, and Desmond remembered seeing the well-dressed Italian man lying on the ground, blood pooling in a gunshot wound in his chest…

"Shit," he repeated quietly as he opened his eyes and stared at Dr. Bakes, "that's…my fault. I…was being stupid and thought that Ezio could watch my back and we didn't need Altaїr there because-" He stopped, pursing his lips and shaking his head, "Fuck…I-"

"He is not dead," the doctor said, "but is in a coma right now-"

"Still my fucking fault," he curled his right hand into a fist, glaring down at the sliver that was the Lance of Longinus on his arm, "I should have waited-"

"No you should have not," Dr. Bakes interrupted him, "any delay on your part would have fed into the doubt of your mind. It would have precipitated the end of us all. You knew what you were doing when you asked Master Auditore to accompany you to the vaults without a second pair of eyes. You will blame yourself for what has happened, but you cannot. You understand sacrifice and the need for it and so does Master Auditore."

"That doesn't mean I fucking consent to it," Desmond shot back, glaring at the doctor, but also ashamed at her words. She was right in every sense. He had committed to the path, had sacrificed his father for crying out loud, just so he could stop Iltani. Even if he denied it or he claimed that it was the Lance influencing him, he still bore some of the responsibility. Whether it was because he could not stop the Lance from influencing him or some other explanation, it was his responsibility and his alone. "And how the fuck do you know what Ezio wanted-"

"I know he searched long and hard for the mysterious Desmond of prophecy," Dr. Bakes' eyes hardened and Desmond caught a glimpse of Sethlans behind them, the weariness, too-old look, but also harshness that made him who he was, "and though he will never tell you this, his actions prove otherwise. He would have done anything to ensure your safety, Desmond."

If the words were supposed to be comforting, supposed to snap him out of the depression he had fallen in, they did the complete opposite. Desmond could feel the fury grow within him and became very still, glaring up at the doctor, "I never asked for people to sacrifice themselves for me."

The scathing look Sethlans sent back to him was simplistic and contemptuous, "Which is why Minerva chose you."

That broke Desmond out of his fury before he felt every emotion drain from him and he flopped back against his pillows, the dawning realization of what those words really meant chilling him. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he lifted his right arm and stared at the Lance, "All this time…and…"

"I will leave you to your rest," Sethlans looked at him his gaze neutral, "I am sorry, Desmond."

"…Yeah," he knew he could have asked if there was any other way, but he knew that it was a question already answered. If there had been another way, he would have already taken it. On some conscious level, perhaps buried so deep because he did not want to confront the realization; he knew that he had written his own fate when he had agreed to do what needed to be done. Maybe that was why he sought out the familiarity of the garage, the familiarity of normalcy…one last effort to somehow comfort himself before the end.

He barely heard the doctor heading to the door before speaking up once more staring at the closed blinds of his room, "You're not sorry."

There was a pause in the doctor's steps before he could imagine her nodding, "No…I am not. But I wish I could be."

"Sacrifice for the greater good, huh?"

"We all make our own sacrifices," she replied before opening the door and leaving. When the door clicked closed Desmond threw an arm over his eyes and breathed deeply. There was no other way…and he wanted to do nothing more than scream out his frustration. But he could not. Not with so many counting on him…

It was much later in the night, the sun having already set several hours ago, that Desmond found himself sitting in a chair that he scooted next to Ezio's bed. The lights in the room flickered twice, a sign that the solar flare activity was getting stronger the closer December 21st came. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, the scratchy sandpapery feeling that he had felt when he had first woken up still hanging over him. He knew that he could easily fall asleep in the chair, but Desmond instead, shifted and hunched forward, pressing his chin against his knuckles as he stared at the light rise and fall of the Italian man's chest.

A breathing mask covered part of his face and while Ezio's body was clothed in medical gowns and IV lines set up to feed him nutrition along with various wires hooked up to monitor his breathing, Desmond had to admit, it was a bit surreal to see the man like this. He thought he could imagine him dressed in the Renaissance period clothing that Ezio had shown him was in the back of the Alfa when they were working on it, but that image was gone before he could contemplate on it. He knew that trying to grasp onto it did him no good, a phantom pressure pushing on his head before he thought he felt the familiar oily sensation of the Lance…reminding him that it was ready to steal whatever memories it wanted from him.

Desmond suspected that it was the Lance that had stolen the memories of Ezio, but he did not know when. He still had the vague feeling that he knew Ezio from before and certainly in the brief moments of clarity remembered him and another girl he had met while he was at the military base.

He sighed and scrubbed his eyes again before looking at the neatly folded Renaissance outfit that had been deposited next to a small table on the opposite side of the bed. Someone, Desmond suspected it was probably Altaїr, had brought him those clothes from the trunk of the Alfa. "What am I doing here," he mumbled as he scrubbed his eyes again, blinking them hard, twice, to try to keep himself awake. "I don't even remember you anymore…but…"

He shifted his body a little, "Sethlans says that coma patients usually can hear others even though they're unresponsive. I dunno…maybe because she's got so many years alive there's some truth to that, or whatever, but I just…" Desmond grimaced as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm sorry. I fucked up and I should have been more aware."

He did not expect the unconscious man to answer him as he continued to stare at the light rise and fall of his chest. His guilt for what had happened was suddenly replaced by a swooping anger as he all but glared at the tubes and wires. "Why the fuck did you do this Ezio?" he hissed quietly, the exhaustion pulling at him once more, "no one asked you to sacrifice yourself for me. Why? You said…" He shook his head as he remembered talking with the other man as they were driving from Denver. He remembered Ezio had said something about living for him, waiting for him for all of these years. There had been something in those man's words that had struck him as wrong yet at the same time, so wholly right.

"This isn't fair," he hunched forward once more, "you can't just dump all of this crap on me and expect me to accept that you're just fucking lying here after taking the damn bullet for me. What the hell?" Desmond knew that he sounded like he was whining, but at the same time he also rationalized it within himself that it was partially Ezio's fault, if not mostly Altaїr's fault for all of this. After all, isn't that what a dead man did? Or at least a man who knew he was going to die? Blame everyone for everything that had happened?

"You told me," he reached out and poked the other man's shoulder, but there was no reaction from Ezio, "you told me that you lived for me. I…why? Why for the love of God, why? You probably conspired with Altaїr, I don't even fucking remember, for me to get this? Get the Lance right? So why the hell do you want to die for me when I'm going to die in the end?! I don't…"

He shuddered as he crumpled in on himself, "I don't want to die…I…I don't want to die…"

He didn't realize he had been rocking back and forth in his seat, hunching his shoulders in on himself as he stared at nothing in particular until he looked up and saw the same steadily rise and fall of Ezio's chest. "You…" Desmond swallowed past the painful lump in his throat as he realized that he was afraid. Of dying or of whatever it was, he just felt afraid. "You knew…didn't you? That's why…you and Altaїr…you told me to get out while I still could, right? That's what happened after…" He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the horrific image away of what he had almost done to Lucy. He still could not forgive himself, even after he had asked her for a clean slate. He could not.

He laughed a little bitterly, "Maybe this is what happened to Altaїr, right? Bitter, unable to die until I destroyed the Apple. Maybe this is what it's like to live with a Piece of Eden bound to you…"

"But you…" he tried to grasp onto the vague memories he had of Ezio, feeling the pressure against his mind, the sudden snaking oily feeling of the Lance awakening once more, but ignored it. "It would be so easy for me to blame you, to say that you're only keeping me alive long enough so that I can die when all of this ends, right?"

He sat back in his chair, suddenly emotionally exhausted, "But that's not you…I…know you. You're a kind-hearted man who lost so much. I can tell even if I can't remember it. You said that your brothers, your sister, they lived so long ago…you told me your car is named Sofia. Those were people you lost, right? Ezio…did you want to die?

"I can't really remember, I know the Lance took another memory, but somehow, I get the feeling that you trained one of my ancestors. And I know, I…know he or she, probably betrayed you. Betrayed all that you stood for and what you were hoping, right?" He let go of the vague memories and immediately felt the Lance's presence slowly fade away, the pressure gone from his mind, leaving only the ghostly headache of what had been him holding onto seemingly fibrous strands that were not there.

"I hope…" Desmond glanced back up at the Italian assassin's still form, "I hope I make you proud…"

Pride, hubris, was probably the deadliest of all sins, if Altaїr had anything to say about it; worst than envy, wrath, even lust. Arrogance combined with an unnatural life made for a deadly combination that he knew he had fallen into after living for so long. It was what made him weak, made him foolish, and had made him stupid. But hubris was also the best leadership quality one could ask for in a time of crisis. Pride and confidence, perhaps a form of arrogance was needed in this time and it had been easy – perhaps too easy – for him to fall back on the qualities that he had embraced when he had led the Hashashin from the shadows into the day, when he had led the European assassins from the day into the shadows.

And it would be Iltani's hubris that would lead her to her downfall, he was sure of it.

He had met each gaze that stared at him as he walked from room to room, from floor to floor, nodding once in acknowledgment. Everyone knew who he was, what he was, and there were no more secrets save for the one that Ezio had managed to wrest from him in his moment of weakness. He was Altaїr ibn la-Ahad, Grand Master of the Order, immortal to those who did not know the Apple was destroyed, and their leader in this time of crisis, this time where everything led up to.

And so in fully embracing himself, the first time in a very, very long time, shedding the personas that he had cultivated over the years, he wore the familiar robes of the Crusades, having had them made several days ago. There were clear modifications to his robe this time, including a few Kevlar padding and reinforced gauntlets that contained both of his hidden blades. His belt was modified to fit the more modern throwing knives as well as a couple of pouches for the clips of the handgun he wore under his armpit, but overall, it was the same outfit he had designed so many years ago.

He quietly watched Quinn Andrews direct the rest of his men and women that were part of the bureau in the secondary operations center he had set up after evacuating all of the floors to the medical floors. More than once in the past hour as he idly watched the proceedings, he had felt the heat of the young man's glare upon him. It was a clear sign that Quinn was not happy with what he was doing and knew that the younger man felt like he was babysitting him, watching and evaluating him. But Altaїr was beyond caring what Quinn thought. Quinn Andrews had never learned a lesson in humility and saw Altaїr's blatant display as a sign that he was grabbing power – which he was in a fashion – but at the same time was also clever enough to know that he could not just go and order him around.

It was a political game Altaїr was very well versed in, but the two of them also knew that as a symbol, Altaїr, dressed in the robes that made him who he was, would give inspiration and confidence to the already nervous populace of the men and women here. He had debated the merits of letting the young leader know that as soon as Iltani was dealt with he would disappear, leave everything since his work was done, but at the same time also knew that Quinn would not believe him. The man would most likely find a way to try to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he would not take over the Order once more. It was admirable in a way, but Altaїr also knew that Quinn was perhaps a little too zealous in making sure those who were threats to his power, to his leadership were out of the way.

Quinn Andrews would never kill a fellow Assassin, but Altaїr had a feeling that the man would most certainly make the lives of those who were perceived to be threats to his power a living hell. In a way, so much like William Miles, in a way so much a product of his generation and the war between the Templars and Assassins. Ezio was right, he could easily take up the reigns of power once this was over; remake the Order in his image, the way things should be, but Altaїr also knew that the hubris, the temptation, the arrogance of doing such a thing was not right.

He stayed for a few more minutes, adjusting his hearing to confirm that the ten other men and women, those who descended from Adam and Eve like himself, all somewhat immune to the Piece of Eden's influences, were all set in their defense of the base. Out of nearly two hundred Assassins at the base, there were only ten adults who had the necessary bloodline, some of them even with the Eagle Vision that he and Ezio possessed, though none of them knew how to utilize it.

There were five more, but they were all children, one of them just a baby, and Altaїr had flatly denied Quinn or Sethlans to utilize them. Only three of the ten adults had military training, the rest were clerical Assassins and one of them was the young mechanic named Chuck whom he had seen work with Desmond in the garages.

Ten Assassins, all of them to protect an entire enclave, the entire race if need be. He shook his head inwardly. They were all going to die when Iltani attacked.

It was not pessimism that drove that thought, but rather practicality. If he was leading an invasion force, he would first take out those who were immune to trickery, or in this case, somewhat immune to the Pieces of Eden. He would then go for those who knew how to use weaponry and turn them against the innocents, the children and elderly who had no defense. Demoralization of the enemy was always the first or second step in the plan, and Altaїr knew that Iltani would use that to her advantage.

Three days ago, Desmond had whispered the words that Altaїr had always knew would come true. Iltani was coming. He had hoped it was not true, but at the same time accepted it as what it was. Those words had also all but confirmed what he knew the young man was doing and while he had three days to prepare, getting that same notion into Quinn Andrews' head was another story. Three days wasted in his opinion…but three days at least to warn the multitude of contacts he and Ezio had cultivated through all of the years alive.

Quinn need not know that the city of Montreal was also preparing, albeit silently as not to alert Iltani of the secret preparations. The media had not been informed, the leaders of the governments not informed…but overall, everyone was preparing.

Pushing himself off from the wall he was leaning on, he quietly exited the secondary operations center, noting that several were watching him leave and could sense Quinn's relief at his exit. There were only a few more hours until the stroke of midnight, until December 21st arrived and while a practical man might have taken the time to sleep, to gather his strength, Altaїr was not really one for practicalities.

Instead, he headed to the elevators and took them up to the prisoner levels, exiting as a wash of cool dry air blasted into his face. He keyed in the code to open the door to the cells and stepped in, the door sealing close behind him with a hiss. The cells built here were an ingenious design – vacuum sealed and dry so that a prisoner would have no advantages of any sorts. All of bunks, sink, even toilets were rounded edges and made with materials that were nearly impossible to use as tools to get out of the cells or to commit suicide. The office building was supposed to be a SAS safe house for the British until the Assassins moved here if Altaїr's knowledge was correct.

"Two hours, or there about," Warren Vidic muttered as he stopped in front of his cell. The man sat on the bed, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

Altaїr did not say a word as he stared at Vidic who only flicked a look at him at his silence in wake of the words he had spoken. A loud sigh emerged from the Templar scientist's lips, "Come to finally gloat Master Assassin?"

It was easy to see how Warren Vidic was similar to William Miles; brilliant, egotistical, and ruthless, everything William was except a Templar. Names and labels were meaningless to Altaїr for all of his long life, but in this case, the line between Templar and Assassin was thin indeed. Each man was a mirror of each other, each man driven by the same ideals. It was only perhaps a twist of fate that Vidic was turned to the Templar side by blaming William for the death of his young wife.

"William is alive," he said calmly and saw Vidic still every so slightly before he bowed his head and let out a quiet sigh. The barest of shudders passed through the man's form before he looked up again, stroking his beard. Altaїr knew that Quinn would have picked up on his words, but at this point, he did not really care what happened.

He knew that there was a chance the man would tell Desmond, but Altaїr also knew that Quinn would probably want to withhold the information from Desmond, not for his protection, but rather as a way to control the young man.

"You're taking a big risk telling me this I suppose," Vidic scrubbed his face before resting his chin on his hands again, "and I probably can guess why. Seventeen-err…Miles' spawn doesn't know?"

His silence was his reply and Vidic stared at him, shaking his head. "Cold bastard…"

"I've been called worst," he shrugged and heard the barest of snorts from the Templar scientist before he fell silent once more.

Vidic scrubbed his face again and closed his eyes, "If you're looking for proof that he may or may not be sustained by the Lance, I don't have the answers. I knew she was looking for the Lance, hell I knew some of its powers, but does she have the capability to do something that cruel, fuck yes. Will she do something that cruel? Sure, why not. Is she capable of doing something that cruel? Yes. Did she do it? I have no fucking idea."

"And why do you doubt that?" it would have been easy for him to come to the conclusion on his own, but Altaїr knew that he was compromised – both by his feelings for Iltani, and by Iltani herself. He needed an outside opinion – but Vidic need not know that.

"Because Gods are not infallible," Vidic looked at him from the corner of his eye and Altaїr got the distinct feeling that the Templar considered him amongst the so-called Gods, part of the First Civilization like Tinia and Minerva. "If anything, they're so human and humans have flaws."

"Ordered structure and thinking?"

Vidic barked out a laugh, "If you are trying to twist the Templar philosophy upon its head Master Assassin, then you have not learned. It is not ordered structure and thinking as you so eloquently put it, but rather a controlled chaos. Even the chaos of madness can be controlled and Iltani, she has that control."

"…Really…" Altaїr tilted his head a little, wondering what Vidic was getting at.

"Just look at what she's been doing for the past hundreds of years. She knows what she's doing even if she's probably insane. A part of her, a very tiny perhaps insignificant part of her knows what she's doing. Everything she does, maybe even her episodes of madness if it's anything that now, is controlled. When she got the Lance from who knows where all those years ago she delivered Subject Sixteen straight into my arms after she gave him it."

Vidic shook his head, crossing his arms, "She didn't need to do that. She could have jump started this whole thing way back when, taking the Denver Piece and using it even. She could have brought everyone to their knees. But why not then? What's so special about this solar flare that's supposed to end the world? Beats me…could be something sinister, could be as simple as nostalgia. I have no fucking idea what's going on in her head."

"She delivered Sixteen for a reason, Master Assassin. And I get the nasty feeling that it was for Seventeen's stint in the Animus. We used the map you saw in your Apple after Al Mualim, we could have easily used it with Sixteen's memories through Malik al-Sayr or perhaps someone else's memories," Vidic quieted down shaking his head, "so to answer your question, no I have no idea if she will use the Lance on Bill…"

Altaїr stayed quiet for a few minutes, his mind turning over what Vidic had said. It had all but confirmed everything he knew about Iltani, everything he had learned from his communion with the Apple, with Juno whispering promises and knowledge to him. It confirmed years upon years of research and study; years of being alive and years of planning.

And he hated it.

Hated himself for what he did, hated for being so badly manipulated during the times he knew he was being manipulated and the times he had thought his mind was of his own volition. But that hatred…self-loathing…he pushed it away. If there was one person that would truly hate him, it was Desmond. Only Desmond could hate him as much as he hated himself and somehow, he knew that the man would forgive him – even if he did not deserve that forgiveness.

Desmond was a kinder man that he was…

Altaїr reached over and punched in the cell door code and it slid open with a gentle hiss. He saw Vidic stare at the opened door and back up at him. "Your daughter will be in Room 2b when everything starts."

"I…" Vidic trailed off, speechless as he suddenly looked older than his middle age.

Altaїr did not say anything else as he spun on his heel and walked out of the cells. There was only one thing left to do. Stop Iltani long enough so that Desmond could accomplish his plan…the plan that he had thought he had devised. The plan that Iltani had manipulated all along…

He could stop her, or die trying.

It would have been for a more romantic scene if it was a couch instead of a tiny medical bed with room enough for one. But Desmond did not care as he absently ran his fingers up and down Lucy's arm, her body pressed against his as they lay in the bed. They were still fully clothed, no hints of desire, nothing to indicate that they were about to make love, just a comfort that was there from holding each other. It felt right and Desmond was content.

After he had finished his visit to Ezio's room, he had arrived back to his room to see Lucy absently pouring over various news websites and meteorological data from both the Canadian Space Agency and NASA. She had told him to get some sleep with a promise to wake him in a couple of hours and he had done so, only to wake up naturally an hour later to see her still staring at her laptop, though looking a lot more tired.

He had watched her for a few minutes, pretending to be asleep until she caught him and told him the latest space weather updates. The solar activity was getting worst and Desmond knew that it was nearly time. He had impulsively gotten up and hugged her before sitting the two of them down on the edge of his bed. He had felt her stiffen a bit before he told her that he was not expecting anything from her and just wanted to get her away from the constant news exposure.

She had only laughed before starting a story about one of her college roommates who happened to be a journalism major and a news junkie. That had spiraled into stories from him about some of his clients and even one local TV news anchor when off the job would come to the bar and demand that the channels be switched to something other than news.

"Hey Lucy?" he suddenly asked, breaking himself away from his thoughts as he stared out at the glittering night lights of Montreal, "what are you going to do after all of this is over?"

It was a loaded question and both of them knew it. There was a good chance neither of them would see the next day after this and Desmond knew that he definitely would not see it, but…he had to ask. And Lucy could not know. He could not tell her…

She stayed silent for a few minutes before shifting a little, exposing what used to be a warm spot where her shoulder met his solar plexus to the cold, but he did not mind. "Probably…travel, I guess."

"Any place in particular?"

She shook her head, her blonde hair brushing against his cheek, "Just…disappear for a while I think." She absently waved a hand, "Get away from all of this."

"…Yeah," Desmond knew exactly what she was talking about and smiled a little, "you mind if I come with you?" He was proud that he had managed not to choke on the line even though it tasted like ash. He was not going to go with her, he was sure of it…not after…not-

"I don't see why not," he glanced down at her to Lucy smiling up at him, but saw the barest of trembles in her lip. Apparently she was not as good as he was in holding in her fear, "You're going to need to teach me how to disappear off the grid, right?"

"Sure," he tried to smile, but somehow, his muscles wouldn't cooperate and saw Lucy's weak smile falter before she reached up and traced his chin with a finger. "Lucy-"

"Don't," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "just…don't…"

"Okay," he agreed as he tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer to him. She shifted and rested her head against his chest and he knew that she was listening to his heartbeat. He willed himself to stay calm, to not show the fear and the pain that he was feeling. It hurt…it hurt like nothing before and Desmond tried to shove it deep inside him. He didn't want to die…not when he realized he had something to live for. Lucy had caught him when he was falling, spiraling into darkness; Lucy was his anchor.

"We'll disappear after this, okay Desmond?" she whispered into his chest, muffling half of her words, "just you and me. No Order, no Templars, nothing. There will be fights, there will be joy, but it'll just be you and me. Right?"

Desmond could not answer past the sudden painful lump in his throat and instead nodded. I'm so sorry Lucy…I'm…so… He could not finish the thought and kissed her gently on the top of her head. There was nothing to be said, nothing that could be said, so the clung onto each other, the final moments of peace…

Shattered as the clock struck midnight and the general alarms sounded.

Altaїr pulled himself from his meditation as the general alarms started to blare in the building. He had been sitting on the chair next to Ezio's bed as he would on the ledge of a wall, one leg pulled up so that his foot was flat against the chair, the knee touching his chest, his other leg casually swinging. It was not a typical meditation pose, but rather one that he had adopted during his training days as an apprentice. Even Arden had found it unusual, preferring the crossed-leg traditional pose, but then again, she had never questioned his habits.

Ezio, on the other hand, had decided to occasionally trick him on more than one occasion, calling it a test of balance. It was also a test of creativity, to launch attacks when one seemed to be at peace and for Altaїr, the first time he had dodged Ezio's attempt to trick him, he had surprised the Italian Assassin.

"Safety and peace brother," he uncurled himself from the chair and stood up, giving one last look at the Italian Assassin, the man whom he loved like a brother, but also would never admit it. "I will see you on the other side."

As he left the room, he never noticed the slight twitch of Ezio's fingers nor the beginning flutters of the man's eyes as he made his trek back towards consciousness.

The tiny radio jammed into his ear told Desmond all that he needed as he hurried down the emergency stairwell. The lights in the stairwell flickered and occasionally went out for seconds at a time, an indication that even with the industrial generators in the office building, the intensity of the flares were getting worst – enough to affect standalone generators. He burst into the garage, ducking immediately behind a large pillar as bullets flew through the air. The satellite had been launched, but due to the increasing corona mass ejections, throwing solar waves and flares into space, there was no accurate reading on when it was going to deploy its payload or what would happen. Reports had indicated that even the launch itself was a massive feat and Lucy, while looking through the latest news, had said that NASA had considered delaying the launch.

The Kevlar armor he wore under his white hoodie jammed itself against parts of his body as he pushed himself against the pillar and looked towards where the others were deployed, all arrayed in different areas of the garage. He frowned as he spotted the familiar face of Chuck, the young mechanic whom he had befriended. Surely-

"Chuck!" he yelled, catching the young man's attention as he ducked under a makeshift jersey barrier before firing wildly with his handgun towards the smoke-filled side of the garage.

"One of the ten," the young mechanic shouted back and Desmond was puzzled until he suddenly felt the Lance scream a warning before a live grenade landed near him.

Desmond's eyes widened, but even before he knew what he was doing, he had scooped up the grenade and tossed it back into the smoke, his vision flicking briefly into Eagle Sense as the grenade landed exactly where it had been thrown from. The ensuing explosion was mingled with cries before several Assassins behind the other barriers cheered and poured a renewed effort into concentrating their fire in the opening he had created.

"Nothing yet!" a little girl's voice suddenly burst forth from the earpiece and Desmond froze, wondering why of all people was a little girl, a child, was talking on the radio before he caught a glimpse of the Arabic Assassin on the other side of the garage, back against a pillar like he was, gun in hand, occasionally pointing to a couple of the Assassins near his side to concentrate their fire on something else.

"What the hell are you doing?" he had not realized he had spoken in Arabic until he felt his ancestor's presence engulf him. However, instead of pushing it away, he embraced it, letting the memories of Altaїr fill him as he glared across the wafting smoke and gunfire.

"What is necessary," was the curt reply back and Desmond could feel the bristling anger of the memory at the real live one from across the battlefield. However, he realized that he did not even see the little girl anywhere around the barriers and realized that the girl was perhaps upstairs, near the secondary operations center, perhaps watching to see if there was any sign of possession, anything to indicate that all of the Pieces had been activated, enthralling everyone.

He gritted his teeth as he sent a pointed look towards Altaїr, indicating that he knew that it was necessary, but that did not mean he agreed to it. The other man ignored his look before pointing towards an area where the two nearest Assassins, one holding a rocket propelled grenade launcher fired into the area. Another explosion ripped through the area and more screams filled the air, but the dust and smoked cleared a little for Desmond to see the walls black and burnt, pockmarked with bullet holes and several bloodied bodies dressed in military fatigues lying on the ground.

It was a literal war zone, he realized, as he shook himself out of the funk he had gotten into and reached out to grasp the calm, collected readiness the memory of his ancestor had. He could not hesitate, not now, not anymore. Flicking his vision to his Eagle Sense, he saw hues of red in blotches within the smoky area and saw a cluster near him. "Eleven o'clock," he said into thin wire of the radio's mouthpiece, "machine gun turret."

"Got it," was the cool reply from Altaїr before Desmond glanced to see the blue-hues of the Assassins behind the barriers suddenly converge their fire as several grenades also flew towards the indicated area. The resulting explosion and screams that filled the air made him smile grimly before he ducked back behind the pillar, bullets pounding against the concrete.

A sudden scream next to him made Desmond flick out of his Eagle Sense in time to see one of the Assassins, an older man fall to the ground, clutching his shoulder before a live grenade bounced next to him. Even before the Lance screamed its warning, he saw the wounded man roll on top of the grenade.

"RUN!" the man screamed and Desmond only had enough time to push himself off of the pillar before he was suddenly knocked into the nearby wall by the force of the explosion. Stars filled his eyes and pain erupted around his head and back as he bounced against it before he felt something else hit him, sticky and wet and realized to his horror that it had been the wounded Assassin…now blown into bloodied chunks.

His eyes widened as the utter horror of what had happened sunk in and felt sick. Desmond pushed down on the feeling of throwing up and saw Chuck also staring at him, eyes also wide. Suddenly Chuck jerked as a perfectly formed hole appeared between his eyes. The horror on his face stilled as his eyes rolled a little before he tilted sideways and fell to the ground.

Desmond knew that he was already dead, but another part of him screamed in denial. "No…" he did not realized his mouth was moving until he found himself suddenly cradling the young mechanic's body, staring at the perfect bullet hole in between his eyes. "…Chuck?"

He did not expect an answer, but Desmond could feel a tremble and realized as he lifted one of his hands from cradling the body that it was he who was trembling. But not from fear…from rage.

He looked up and glared across the battlefield, finding his target amongst the hues of red and saw a sniper set up at the far end of the garage, readying another bullet. That was his target as he saw the sniper glow yellow. He saw the rifle swinging towards him and dropped Chuck's body onto the ground before he leapt past the sandbag barrier. He could hear the Lance's split second of warning before he ducked a little, the bullet that had been meant for him sailing past his left shoulder, so close that he felt its passage.

He flicked the catch to his left bracer, the blade unsheathing and he slashed at the first Templar who had tried to take advantage of the chaos the grenade had cost. Blood gushed in a violent stream from the man's throat as he cut it open. However, Desmond spun away from him and drew out his handgun with his right hand, firing immediately into the next soldier's face, killing him instantly.

He was already onto the next group of soldiers, stabbing one through his Kevlar armor before flinging him into two more, releasing the catch on his blade for a second before activating it again and fired twice, one for each headshot. Three bodies fell as Desmond spun on his heel and felt the passage of several bullets in the air near his body. He dodged and weaved, killing the next soldier by clipping her across the neck, severing part of the carotid artery. She choked and held a hand up to try to stem the blood flow, but he ignored her dying gasps as he fired two bullets into the soldier beyond her, catching the man once in the neck and the other in the face.

A distant scream rendered the battlefield and took Desmond's attention from his next target as he leapt past a barrier and saw a flash of white robes and familiar red sash before a feral smile appeared on his face. It seemed that Altaїr had the same idea as he did and fired towards a soldier that was trying to ambush his ancestor, clipping in him the back of his neck, severing the soldier's spine.

He saw Altaїr look at him and met those golden eyes with a tilted head of his own before the same smile appeared on the other Assassin's face. The memory of his ancestor that was within Desmond rose to the implied challenge as the two of the moved as one, slashing and firing towards the group of soldiers, moving away from each other to duck from bullets coming their way, moving back towards each other to avoid a slash meant for the other.

"Clip," Altaїr called over and without even thinking, Desmond tossed him one of the clips he had stuck in the back of his pockets, using the his arm's momentum to break another soldier's elbow, bending it the other way before spinning the man to the ground where he finished him off with a bullet to the face.

He fired several more times, twisting out of the way and ducked against a sandbag barrier for a brief second before vaulting over and continued on. He could hear the panicked yells of soldiers trying to get a bead on them, but they were ruthlessly cut down by Altaїr. Desmond slid under the legs of a soldier, slashing at the man's inner thigh, spilling blood before kicking another in the knee as he rose up and blocked with his gun before slamming part of it across another's face.

The soldier rocked back as he finished off with a cut to the man's face, sending him to the ground and he whirled against another pillar as bullets impacted his hiding place. He grimaced as he felt a few flecks of concrete shards hit him, but the brief flashes of pain meant nothing as he wiped away the small drips of blood that accompanied the minor injury.

He reached in for another clip and noted that it was his last one and saw across the garage Altaїr ducking into the pillar opposite of his, also readying his weapons. "Two left, three on your side, two o'clock," he muttered in Arabic over the radio.

"Sniper access limited," Altaїr replied and Desmond nodded. It meant that he would have to be the one to take down the sniper. It also meant that the sniper was most likely occupied with Altaїr instead of Desmond, having decided the Assassin dressed in robes that were from the Crusaders era a far greater threat than someone in modern-day hoodie and jeans.

"You have a plan after this?" he peered out quickly and counted the number of soldiers that were streaming in, almost approaching the sniper spot to reinforce whatever soldiers had been left after being mowed down by the two of them.

"Emergency exit a few paces back," Desmond turned to see where the emergency exit door that had been guarded by several Assassins had bodies draped over it, which meant it was an easy access point. But since they had cleared the immediate area of any threats, the door looked utterly inviting.

"Got it," he replied. He had no idea what Altaїr had planned to do, but he also trusted the man with whatever plans were in place.

"Teams move to the stairwells," Altaїr suddenly changed his commands to English and Desmond knew that it was his cue.

He leapt out of his hiding place in the pillar and fired his gun twice in rapid succession, killing two guards before as he saw Altaїr move from his hiding place, engaging the other three that had been trying to slowly move towards his position. He could see the sniper setting up for the kill and Desmond knew that he was not going to make it up to the nest before he fired his shot.

He gritted his teeth and threw his gun, butt over barrel and saw it hit the sniper soundly in the head, knocking him off balance as his shot went wide. But before the sniper could recover or his spotter do anything Desmond slashed the spotter's throat before pouncing on the sniper. He stabbed him through the back, his blade encountering some resistance from the armor the man wore.

The sniper choked and gurgled before Desmond scooped up his thrown handgun lying by the man's side and fired a single bullet into his neck, silencing him. Almost a split second later, he heard three gurgles before rolling away from the perch as he sensed more soldiers approaching.

He landed on the ground in a crouch and felt Altaїr seizing the back of his hoodie, pulling him along before pressing a detonator switch that he had procured from his modified belt. He was shoved unceremoniously into the door of the emergency exit and started to climb the stairs just as rumbles started to shake the area. Desmond had to grab on tight and climb as the shaking intensified and felt Altaїr seize the back of his hoodie once more, pulling him along, moving at a far faster and smoother movement that Desmond could not believe.

"What the hell-"

"The garage is collapsing," Altaїr said coolly and Desmond's eyes widened in shock as he tried to climb faster. Debris rained down upon them and he winced as he lifted an arm to try to protect his head from the loose dust and concrete that was falling around them. He heard a giant cracking sound and looked up to see the stairwell splintering above him.

"Fuck-"

"Here-" Altaїr suddenly pulled him in the opposite direction and before Desmond knew it, he was thrown into another door which opened up into the ground floor level of the building.

Smoke, dust, and a cloud of debris followed them as Desmond coughed, trying not to breathe in the dust before feeling Altaїr brush past him. However, before the other man could move away, he grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. "What the fuck were you thinking-"

"It needed to be done," Altaїr stared at him as if he was a child and the brief moment of shared competitiveness, of shared brotherhood shattered.

"But...the others! Chuck-" he protested as he realized the Assassins that had died were all but buried underneath the collapsed garage, perhaps permanently if things did not go well.

"It needed to be done," Altaїr repeated lightly and Desmond frowned, wanting to protest, but instead stared beyond his ancestor's shoulder to see what looked like a huge mass of combat fatigues was now standing around a perimeter that led to a gaping maw that used to be the garage. His protests all but died as he saw that only a handful of soldiers now stood crowded by the doors, still trying to force their way into what looked like bullet proof glass that lined the front entrance of the building.

"Second line of defense, prep for assault," Altaїr turned away from him and Desmond saw him moving towards the group set up here behind sandbags and various barriers. One was even manning a machine gun turret. He saw Altaїr talk to one of the Assassins for a moment before moving away towards the survivors of the garage, touching each briefly on the shoulder before they moved towards the barriers to reinforce the defense.

Desmond grimaced a little, feeling bad, but before he could move, he saw Altaїr approach him again and tensed a little, wondering if the older Assassin was going to say something else.

"The possibility of a strike team ambushing from the top floors is not out of the question. You will need to direct the group set up in Quinn Andrews' former office. Do not use the elevators."

"Power fluctuation due to the solar flares?"

"No," the predatory smile Altaїr shot him made Desmond realize that the elevators were probably primed to explode if anyone so much as touched or tried to open one.

"Nasty," he grinned a little before nodding his assent. He turned to head towards another stairwell before two things happened.

The first thing was the shattering of one of the bullet proof glass followed by shouts of soldiers. The second thing was Quinn Andrews' frantic voice coming over the radio.

"Altaїr, the flare! It's arrived-fuck! The Pieces of Eden have-"

Quinn's voice cut off as Desmond suddenly staggered, the oily sensation of the Lance of Longinus suddenly burning into his mind as he felt something ancient and powerful render across his consciousness. He choked and gagged from the force of the power, dry heaving several times, but nothing would come out. He suddenly found himself unable to see, hovering over a black pit and blindly reached out, trying to find a purchase, anything to save himself-

A scream to his left pierced his mind and threw him back from the black abyss he had found himself hanging over as an Assassin suddenly clawed at her eyes, shrieking gibberish and foaming at the mouth. The others near her stared at her in horror before suddenly the man next to her started to laugh, high-pitched, his body shaking before he drew out his handgun and pointed it at the woman.

"Wait-"

"What are you-"

The single gunshot that rang in the air silence all of the others as they stared at the laughing hysterical man in horror before he turned the gun upon himself and fired a bullet into his head, his laugh cutting off in a spray of blood and choking wetness.

"Get to the vaults," Desmond turned to see a tight expression on Altaїr's face and opened his mouth to ask about him before the master assassin stalked forward as several more people started to laugh and cry, slowly drawing their weapons out to point at themselves or at their neighbors.

"Oh my God...it started..." Desmond breathed as he looked up briefly to see a hazy odd-glow render across the night sky, seemingly lightening the dark blackness of night into an unusual hue. Just as he blinked, he saw several auroras light up across the night sky as he realized that the solar flare, the one that was supposed to have killed the First Civilization had hit...and it had also activated all of the Pieces of Eden in orbit...

It had truly begun...and Desmond ran.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, the first tenet of the Creed that he had followed for so long as Altaїr danced the dance of death. They were innocent, but at the same time they were not innocent and Altaїr frowned as he stared at the bodies he had cut down. In just short minutes, he had killed the ones who were not immune to the Pieces of Eden, leaving only six Assassins including the one manning the gun turret in the lobby.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

He turned and saw the soldiers that had succeeded in breaking down the glass slowly straighten as and unnatural calm washed over them, clearly a sign of the Pieces' influence. He had hoped he would never see the same blank mindlessness in anyone's eyes like he had seen in Masyaf hundreds of years ago, but now…

"Prepare yourselves," he said quietly to the remaining Assassins as he stalked forward. Iltani was coming, he could feel it.

And in this battle, no one was innocent.

"Get to the vaults," the command echoed in Desmond's head as he blindly ran up the stairs, his lungs burning from adrenaline and the beginning pulls of exhaustion. He hated leaving Altaїr, but also knew the other man was right. As soon as some of the Assassins started to scream, clutching their heads, they knew that the Pieces of Eden had activated all over the world. There was still no sign of Iltani, but Desmond did not put it past her to show up soon. He heard the chatter over the radio about a strike team dropping in from the top floors, but it seemed like the two Assassins who were immune to the Pieces stationed up there had barricaded themselves well and were holding out.

The debris from collapsing part of the garage had prevented a lot of the ground forces from advancing and also had prevented Iltani's soldiers from gaining their foothold after they had dealt with the sniper and evacuated everyone to the medical and ground floors.

"Medical floor status!" he tuned himself to Altaїr's voice, hoping for any sign of Iltani, anything that would at least tell him that she was here. He knew he could use the Lance and perhaps pinpoint her location, but he also knew that he did not want to expose himself unnecessarily.

There was no answer from the other end before Altaїr repeated his words. Desmond pursed his lips as he rounded another set of stairs and pulled himself upwards, taking two at a time instead of the three he had been doing. All of the elevators had been disabled and he was pretty sure that the garage debris would prevent anyone from using the cars to go up and down so easily. Even though he had not been given details of what grenades were attached to the elevators, he figured it was either a flashbang or a block of C4, both equally dangerous, both small enough to not blow the supports on the whole building. It was brilliant thinking – to make sure that the medical floors were protected from incoming strike teams.

"Quinn! Do you copy-"

"Quinn had to be disabled," Desmond froze as a very familiar, but breathless voice spoke over the comm, Italian accent and all.

Apparently it had even surprised Altaїr as he did not immediately answer, but before anyone else could speak Desmond tapped his own radio open, "...Ezio?"

The only reply he got back was a warm chuckle before Altaїr cut in, "What took you."

"I like my sleep," Ezio shot back in Arabic before the comm filled with several curses from Altaїr that Desmond was hard pressed not to laugh at. He had always thought of his ancestor as cold, stoic, and generally aloof, but this...he realized that perhaps how ever long Ezio had lived, Altaїr had thought of him like family and in a way was glad.

"You can sleep more when you are dead," Altaїr replied, "status?"

"I had to disable the whole room. Two civilians have helped me, but they are slowly succumbing to the Piece," Ezio sounded exhausted and Desmond stupidly realized that the man had after all, just woken from a coma, and thus was not in full shape. He was also probably still healing from the bullet wound and knew that it was probably a miracle that he was able to disable the whole secondary operations center with two others. That spurred him on as he continued up the stairs.

"Three floors away from the vault," Desmond added as he rounded another set of stairs and continued upwards.

"All have been locked in their rooms. Sethlans...has not been seen," Ezio continued and Desmond grimaced a little, wondering what that meant for his friends, for Lucy until Ezio continued, "but it seems some of the rooms have not been affected...yet."

Those words told Desmond all he needed to know about the situation. Sethlans had even said it would be a gamble at best, to protect everyone on a several-floor-radius, and it seemed that with the combined efforts of all of the activated Pieces of Eden in orbit, it had been too much for the being that stylized himself as Hephaestus to handle and thus had shrunk the radius of his Piece's protection. Desmond hoped that Lucy was part of that...but even so; he could not help but feel a little selfishly about hoping to keep her mind intact from the Pieces' influence over others.

"I need you to find him and-" Altaїr suddenly stopped and Desmond did too as a consequence, a flash of fear stabbing through him. Had he been hurt, had something happened? Was he shot mid-sentence?

"...Iltani," Altaїr's voice returned, a low growl, but filled with an odd emotion that Desmond could not place. It sounded almost like...sorrow. But that could not be true, could it?

There was a squealing sound before Ezio's voice broke over once more, "Altaїr, do not- do not- Altaїr you cannot do this by yourself-stop! You-"

The squeal was broken by the sudden brief hiss of static before silence reigned over the radio and Desmond heard a clear frustrated sigh from the Italian assassin.

"Ezio?" he queried, wondering what was that all about.

"...It is nothing-"

"Bullshit," he shot back viciously before turning around, "I'm heading back down-"

"No," Ezio cut him off coldly, for a moment sounding exactly like Altaїr, "you will get to the vault and you will stop this madness. Altaїr, by everything that he has done, can handle himself. This is his fight, Desmond. Do not interfere."

"But-"

"Stop this, Desmond," the Italian man's voice softened and for a moment Desmond caught a grasp of familiarity within that voice. Somewhere in the memories the Lance had stolen, that voice was familiar, proud...brotherly and warm. "For all our sakes, stop this."

"I-I understand," Desmond turned around and continued up the stairs. He could not help but echo the slight keening want the memory of Altaїr within him stirred up. It was not that he doubted his ancestor's abilities; it was that he had a very bad feeling about Altaїr facing Iltani – that he should be there to help him. He opened his mouth to ask Ezio to help Altaїr, but it seemed the Italian man was thinking the same thoughts.

"I will do whatever I can to help him, Desmond."

Altaїr lifted his boot and took a side step from the remnants of the radio he had crushed under his heel. His hands were held loosely to his sides, blades already extended and coated liberally with blood. Arden would be angry with the way her blade had been treated in the last few hours since the invasion began. But he could see the dusky black-blue of the night starting to give way to a lighter dawn and in that dawn, he could see an unusual hazy sheen covering the sky, Aurora Borealis flashing occasionally as the Pieces of Eden in orbit did their work in protecting the Earth from the massive solar flare that had erupted hours ago and hit the magnetosphere.

"Hello," she greeted in the same voice he remembered, the same one that had whispered his name in the dark of the night. "It has been a while, has it not?"

"Too short to be seeing you again," he shot back, his eyes darting to his left and right as he saw soldiers fanning out, not to form a perimeter, but to root out whoever was left alive on the ground level. However, they were slow in coming in, forced to go a single file due to the debris from where the garage had collapsed, leaving a gaping hole in the ground in front of the office building.

"Come now, Altaїr," he pushed away the memory of her purr, of how she was speaking his name. Instead, he let the anger and fury fill him, wrapping it around him like a second armor. "Do you really think you can stop me? Or perhaps you just wish to delay me? How thoughtful of you."

"Desmond will succeed," he said evenly as he watched her take a few steps forward, the Lance head swinging idly in her hand. He watched her other hand, wary for a hidden blade there.

She threw her head back and laughed and Altaїr flinched. He had once loved the laugh, her laugh. The first time he had heard it was when the two of them shared a camp, when he had been first assigned by Al Mualim to guard her. She had acted the part of Scheherazade, telling him stories over the camp fire as he tried not to listen and instead act the part of a bodyguard. To think he had thought of Adha as a naïve young woman who needed protection back then...

"You idealistic fool," she shook her head and Altaїr suddenly lifted an arm to block her swing with the blade as she moved. She was fast, he realized, faster than he had ever seen as he moved his blade down, sending sparks into the air before side-stepping and trying to elbow her in the face.

He only succeeded in brushing his elbow against the folds of her clothes before she whirled away and he blocked low and high with his other arm at the flash of another blade that appeared in her hands. He twisted, planting his feet firmly before kicking at her midsection and then punched her in the chest, sending her staggering back.

He knew that he could have easily stabbed her in the chest instead of punching, her but it all but confirmed to him that she was wearing a layer of armor underneath, armor that he knew his blades would probably not puncture at this rate. They were both too versed in how the other fought. He set himself in a low stance as she charged at him again, swinging wildly left and right, and he twisted just so-but felt his sleeve tear and a spike of pain rake across his bicep.

She laughed as she drew blood and Altaїr brushed away the pain silently before cutting at her, once, twice, spinning around to slash at her legs. He wordlessly acknowledged the cut he had made to her leg as she screeched a little and step back, kicking at him. He moved to the side and rolled to avoid the kick where his chin used to be and lashed out. She caught his attack with a sweep of her leg and he found himself spinning around from the momentum, feeling his arm sting with the force of her kick before pushing himself up and launching at her again.

She danced away from his attack, blocking one of his blows with the Lance head and he ducked under the slash that she tried to reach at him. He stabbed at her again from underneath, but she only moved out of the way to the side and before he knew it, his back exploded in pain as he felt a deep cut against it. He grimaced at the wound and skirted away from her next attack, blocking her blows before he realized that his movements were becoming sluggish and blinked, staggering a little.

Shit...he had forgotten that she always poisoned her blades...and even the Lance was poisoned when she had cut into him. He had only taken into account that she would only poison the blade in her other hand and not the Piece of Eden she wielded.

"You forgot, my dear," she chided him as he could feel his arms deaden, his world spinning a little as he tried to find his footing, his arms held up in an effort to make sure he kept his guard up. He had felt this poison once before as he recognized the symptoms and grimaced. He thought he saw her next attack to his right and moved to block it, but suddenly felt his arms battered away vicious and tried to move back, but his feet stumbled upon the debris and he felt himself falling-

Only to be halted as suddenly her face was too close to his. He literally smelled the perfume, the blood, the heady scent of her as he blinked again. Too close! She was too close-

"You could have ruled with me Altaїr," she whispered quietly before he suddenly found his lips covered in her own, kissing him with a sheer animalistic ferocity-

Altaїr's gasp was muffled as he felt something cool and cold slid in between his ribs and he pushed himself away from her, breaking off the kiss. He staggered back and stared at her to see her holding a thin flat blade, coated in red and looked down to see the bloom of blood starting to stain the white of his robes. He felt his breath hitch, but it was not from pain, but rather from laughter. His own stupidity...his own foolishness- Altaїr shook his head as he suddenly found that he was not able to support his own weight, crashing to the ground heavily as black spots appeared in his eyes.

The last coherent thought he had was that while he was Iltani's weakness and she was truly his own, he hoped he had given enough time to Desmond to do what needed to be done. He hoped that by delaying Iltani, by fighting her, that everything he had done was enough...

Iltani stared down at the broken body that was Altaїr ibn la-Ahad as his eyes slid shut, distaste curling her lips into a slow smile as she reached down and picked up the Lance she had dropped in order to stab him. She fingered her earring and could feel the pleasurable hum of the Piece of Eden as it had absorbed the emotion through the brief fight. Sentimentality was such an intoxicating port and Altaїr had mixed it anger and even the brief moments of pity and sorrow.

Such a fool.

"Perhaps I did love you once, Altaїr," she purred his name quietly, "or perhaps it was what you wanted to see." She shrugged, "Either way, you are of no use to me now." She stepped over his body and headed towards the emergency stairwell. The soldiers bowed to her as she walked past them, their eyes vacant and obedient. The Lance hummed its pleasure along with her earring and she took pleasure in the power that both fed to her.

"Get rid of those bodies," she pointed at one of the soldiers who leapt to obey her command and immediately began to drag one of the bodies of the Assassins that had tried to leap over the barrier to prevent anyone from gaining a foothold in the stairwells. It was clever of them, clever of Altaїr to make sure that grenades and C4 were stuck on random elevator doors on random floors, but he had backed himself into a corner with his foolish plans.

The sudden burst of machine gun fire outside the building made her pause and turn to see several soldiers fall to the ground before a soldier ran up to her.

"Sir, Miles has escaped!"

Iltani frowned, feeling the displeasure of her Piece as she glared at the soldier, "And what are you doing about it?"

"Yes sir!" the soldier replied and she knew that if he had been capable of coherent thought, those words would be vibrating with fear instead of blank obedience. She watched as the soldier pointed to several more before they advance towards where William Miles was thought to have escaped. She sniffed and spun on her heel once more, wrenching open the stairwell door and started to head upwards.

She had hoped to keep William captive to ultimately break him by killing his son in front of him before disposing of him. It was only through the damned Lance's caution that she had not turned him into a man with a half-life, a twisted life the Lance gave, and because she was not that stupid to sacrifice her memories all to keep Miles alive. The man was reckless enough, trying to escape several times, injuring himself through numerous attempts before she had finally sedated him for the ride up to Montreal.

A sudden smile came to her lips as she felt a pulse of power ripple through the skies and felt it reflect back with her own and absently touched her earring. Soon...soon enough she would have control over the whole of the First Civilization. They would obey her and her alone and she would be able to rule over everyone. Make all of the wrongs of the world right in her image...

And she did not need to know where Desmond Miles was surely waiting as she moved up the stairs; her feet carrying her faster than what were deemed normal. It was almost as if she floated on the air, flying faster and faster to her destination. She was now moving down a concrete hall of sorts, cold and uninviting, but slowed down as she felt the pulse of the Lance's power, echoing her own as she gripped it in her hand.

She came upon a semi-circular room and saw Miles picking himself up slowly from the floor, perhaps having felt something with that pulse of power. So weak, she sneered to herself before she laughed a loud clear sound and saw the young man turn, a startled, but determined look on his face as he saw her.

"I'm not going to let you-"

"Pathetic," Iltani swept her arm at him and laughed again as she saw the ripple of power burst forth from her finger tips and slam Miles into the table, sending him bouncing to the floor. A sinister pleasure filled her as she watched him pick himself up again, this time a lot slower. His eyes were filled with pain and he rubbed his left arm. She relished the feeling of defiance mingled with the pain he clearly was feeling and rubbed her ear, sucking in a deep breath of anticipation.

"You can't stop-"

It was so easily pathetic really, as she suddenly stretched her hand out and made a fist, grabbing him, before raising her arm a little. She saw his body move as a glow enveloped him lifting him up at the same time, the sensation of unlimited power filling her. It was heady and intoxicating, nearly making her sigh in amusement. She saw him stiffen in her invisible grasp before she slowly uncurled her fist, spreading her fingers apart. At the same time, she saw his arms and legs spread apart, mirroring her fingers' movement. She could see him gritting his teeth in the rivets of agony he must have been feeling as she slowly pulled at the sockets of his arms and legs, slowly stretching the muscles to their utmost tense point.

"Does it hurt, Desmond?" she sneered his name, grinning as she embraced the agony and fed it to the Piece upon her. She could feel its hum of approval and could hear the whispers of wanting more. Patience, my sweet pet, she chided gently. It frowned in disapproval before she threw her consciousness up towards the Lance and plucked the ever growing awareness of her brethren, starting to awaken from their Pieces hanging in orbit around the Earth.

She read the horror in his eyes, read the despair and laughed out loud. "You actually thought you could defeat me?" she allowed her Piece to amplify her voice, "I am a God. I am power you cannot imagine nor comprehend. Your pathetic species will be enslaved to us once more and you will serve us."

"You..." she rolled her eyes as Desmond struggled to speak, "are...nothing. Your...time has...passed. We...we the human race-" The rest of his words came as a strangled cry as she spread her fingers out a little more, pulling at his already too-stretched muscles some more. The babblings of a pathetic man was boring to her ears and felt her Piece approve her methods.

An idea suddenly occurred to her and she felt her Piece's growing approval as she hefted the Lance of Longinus in her hand. Its oily sensation was a pittance compared to her power and she easily batted it away. She did not need it trying to beg her to use it – it was only insurance against the others who dared to stand in her away.

She made sure to keep her fingers spread apart as she approached Desmond, lowering her arm a little so that he was hovering just a few inches above her. She reached out with the Lance and touched its tip towards his throat, but not hard enough to pierce skin and saw him swallow involuntarily against the blade as he stared at it. This close to him, she saw beads of sweat dripping down his face, the bunching of his jaw to contain the probable excruciating pain he must have been feeling and her lips curled upwards.

"I think I will let you live," she said in a simple tone, watching with some fascination at the way he swallowed against the blade on his throat. "You look like him...so much like him. Perhaps you will serve me at my pleasure like he had. Such a pathetic fool. So easily manipulated..."

"Who-"

She was surprised that he had managed to speak and saw the point of the Lance draw a small bead of blood against his Adam's apple. It was also then that she realized that Altaїr had never told anyone who she was to him and threw her head back and laughed. That sentimental fool! He had thought-

She shook her head and quieted her laughs before looking up at Desmond and felt her Piece changing her appearance ever so slightly. It was also then that she saw the horror form on Desmond's face and could clearly see where the Animus' Bleeding Effect had bled through as Altaїr's facial expressions were clearly on Desmond's face, heightening their similarities even further.

"...Adha..." he had even adopted the same Arabic accent as he spoke one of the many names she had taken on over the years.

She allowed the Piece to release the change of appearance within her and pursed her lips together. "One of the many names I had living all this time," she said before feeling the barest twinges of remorse. Altaїr had loved her dearly, but when he had seemingly abandoned his quest to save her, she knew that he was not worthy of her gift, of the offer to rule beside her when her plans came to fruition. It was perhaps the only regret she ever had – after all, he was the only one who had come close to figuring out who she really was and what she really wanted.

She inched the point closer to his throat, "I will let you live...with this, you see-"

"No-"

"You do not get to decide, Desmond Miles. I control your fate and I control the Lance of Longinus-"

"So do I-"

"A little sliver, nothing more, nothing less-"

"You were afraid of it-"

"Silence!" she resisted the urge to skewer him right then and there and glared at him, cursing him silently at the triumphant gleam he had in his eye and spread her hand out just a little more, causing that gleam to disappear as he gasped, the first time he had done so before groaned in pain.

"You will serve me with the Lance. A cursed life would teach you the humility that you deserve. You think yourself Adam reincarnated? You think your Lucy Stillman is Eve reincarnated? Pathetic. I will take my pleasure from you as your woman watches. You will break and you will do so in front of her. Then, perhaps, if I am merciful I will have you rape her. Force yourself upon her before strangling her with your bare hands-"

She suddenly screamed as she felt a blossom of pain erupt in her right hand, making her drop the Lance. She looked down to see a pair of medical tongs stabbed into her hand and whirled around-

"SETHLANS! HEPHAESTUS!" she screamed-

"You will do no such thing!" the voice was too close to her and she turned- "Desmond now!"

She turned the other way, trying to see what was happening-

An incredible wave of agony erupted from her ear before she heard someone screaming and realized it was herself-

Menra's eyes were a furious blaze of anger as she clawed like a wild animal, "Give me it! Give me it! Give me it!"

"No!" he clutched it to her breast, keeping it close.

"Give it to me!"

"I can give it to you!" he whirled around, frightened as this newcomer stepped into his vision. He looked haggard and exhausted and he sneered, her lips curling in disgust at this worthless creature, this slave that had dared to interfere. This was one of Adam's progeny he knew it for sure. He could smell the stink of animal on him.

"Give me it!" Menra whirled around to the slave and it was only too late that Tinia realized what she intended.

"No!" he reached out-

"The map," his vision was filled with the location of every single one of them. Every single one of them that had been saved through this method, saved to live a shadowed life, but no more...

"No!" he screamed again, trying to reach out, to turn Menra around. If she wanted it, then he could give it to her-not this worthless creature-this...slave.

"I need you to destroy all of this-"

"Give me it!" Menra was frothing at the mouth now, her wild unkempt appearance even more harried. She looked magnificently wild. He saw something detach from the slave and it was another one of the pathetic slaves, except...this one was different. He was almost translucent, a memory he realized. Dressed in robes of the Crusading Eras he did not look afraid, but rather proud and confident.

He saw Menra grab at him, a sudden slash of her wild claw-like arms and the man fell to the ground in a spray of blood.

" Altaїr..." he heard the slave crack quietly, but straighten nonetheless and Tinia sneered.

"More!" Menra screamed and the slave nodded.

"I can give you more. I can give you everything-"

"Everything?" Menra suddenly stopped, as if suspicious and Tinia knew it was his time to act.

"He is lying!" he reached out and pulled the wild-woman away from the slave. "I can give you everything. I can give you the memories you seek- All I ask for is control. Control over-"

"I want you to destroy them! Destroy the Pieces of Eden-"

"No!" Tinia waved a hand at the slave, but was surprised to see nothing happen. He gritted his teeth in anger, "No! Do you want to be the deaths of your brothers and sisters again? We have waited for so long-"

"Your time is over!"

"You will not talk slave!" he shouted at the man before turning back to Menra, "Menra, you know how it used to be-"

"Yes," Tinia suddenly recoiled as the wild look in Menra's eyes was suddenly replaced by an eerie calm – too calm for his liking. He realized his mistake...he had assumed that the Lance harbored Menra's rage, and only her rage. But in reality...this was Menra, Minerva in all of her glory and self.

"I know how it used to be Tinia," she stared at him and Tinia suddenly felt afraid for the first time in a long time. "I know what happened." He could only watch as she turned to the slave and addressed him. "Desmond," her voice was solemn, wise, just like he had remembered from so long.

"I...can give you the memories of my ancestors that are within me. The memories I haven't explored and have explored to some extent," Tinia was somehow glad to see that even the slave was afraid. Perhaps he would not go through with his threat-

"In exchange for the destruction of every single Piece of Eden, is that correct?"

The slave nodded and Tinia glared at him. He wanted to reach out and hit him, but somehow was unable to.

"Including the ones no one has discovered?"

"Yes," the slave nodded again, "I...want the war to end."

Tinia opened his mouth to protest before Menra turned to face him, "And what do you offer?"

"I can give you control, to make the world as you see fit," he could sense that he was losing and spoke the words, feeling as if they were ripped from deep within. "We can live side by side as you wanted so long ago. Your brothers and sisters, your fathers and mothers, all of us...living-" He stopped as he saw Menra's sculpted eyebrow raise before pushing on, "M-My host's lifetime of memories. The oldest of all, even older than that pathetic slave's ancestors' memories. Thousands upon thousands of years of life. A single uninterrupted lifetime-"

Menra held her hand up and Tinia felt his breath catch. She truly was weighing both gifts; both offers and he hoped that his weighed true.

"What you both offer are of value-"

"I...can give you my memories, my life," the slave suddenly spoke up and Tinia saw Menra turn to stare at the slave with a critical eye.

"He's only-" he suddenly found himself unable to speak.

"It's all I value, really. I mean, I don't want to give it to you, but you'll just take it right? I can't stop you, and I...I don't want to lose the only family I have left. Altaїr, Ezio, and I think a girl named Arden, I don't quite remember- I...I don't want to lose Lucy. I love her..."

There was a moment's pause and in that moment, Tinia knew he had lost, even before Menra rendered her judgment. He tried to break free of the invisible barrier holding him back, but even before he could do anything, he saw Menra turn to face him, her eyes blazing a fire of judgment before his whole world was washed in a terrible light-

-the scream cut off as she felt the cool point enter into ear, piercing the side of her head, a liquid feeling-

The explosion ripped across the compound in a wave that was unlike the air rippling before. It traveled in an outward expanse before bursting high into the air. From there, it looked like it had been lost in the early morning clouds before another ripple buckled the pristine odd glow that had persisted in the air, seemingly stretching for miles on end before the glow shattered into millions upon billions of pieces. Across the world, people would say that it was perhaps the best aurora show they had ever seen. History would mark it down as event that only happened once before and that was during the Toba incident thousands upon thousands of years ago.

But that did not matter as Lucy suddenly came to herself, blinking owlishly as she realized she was standing by the little cafe stand on the mezzanine level, a combat knife in hand, a gun procured from somewhere in her other hand. In front of her was an older man, white-streaked beard and all who had been holding onto her wrist tightly. She realized that she knew this man, dressed in the tattered remains of a labcoat...

"...Vidic?" she saw recognition light up in his blue eyes, the same blue eyes that she shared with him, her father, before he suddenly let her arm go.

"...Lucy? W-What...?"

It was then that she noticed the noise around her, people seemingly awakening from the stupor that all had fallen in and belatedly, Lucy lowered her hands, horror and guilt washing over her. Altaїr had been right...she distantly remembered Sethlans in the room that she, her father, and her friends had been in, the medical tongs that were Dr. Bakes' Piece of Eden glowing fiercely in the moments the solar flare struck and all of the Pieces of Eden activating. The doctor had an intense look of concentration on her face, sweat pouring down the bridge of her waspish nose and it had seemed like long moments of agony before they heard the distant popping sounds of what sounded like gunfire, screams and shouts before all had quieted down after a few minutes.

The radio she had worn had crackled to life with Ezio's tired voice, asking if they were all right before she had found her voice to reply and relayed the situation. What seemed like minutes after, but in reality was hours, Sethlans had suddenly apologized and before Lucy had known, a haze of anger, of pure fury and of mindless obedience had obscured her mind and she supposed that this was where she had ended up, on the mezzanine balcony fighting her father...

She shuddered, dropping the combat knife as she stared at Vidic who also looked ashamed. "I'm...sorry," she whispered before a new noise made her turn below the level to see someone trying to push their way in and brought up her gun.

She only lowered it as she saw the familiar, dirt-covered face of William Miles. "William?!" she called out and he looked up to see her before waving. "But I thought-"

"The bitch loved to play her mind games," William called up and for a moment Lucy hesitated before Vidic, of all people leaned over against the remnants of the balcony.

There was something on her father's face, as if he was warring with a decision not lightly decided. After a few moments, he finally spoke up, "If you're wandering about, maybe you can stop lazing around and get to work Miles!" Lucy felt her jaw drop a little in surprise at the familiarity her father had addressed William and even the hint of friendliness in his voice.

Even William looked surprised at the words, but quickly recovered. "Why don't you, you lazy asshole. Its your turn anyways," the last thing she expected was William to retort in that fashion. She had not really believed that Vidic and William had worked together before she had been born, but here was proof indeed and Lucy suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy.

A pair of strong hands steadied her and she realized that it was her father who had caught her, gently guiding her to sit down, but she shook her head. "No...no-" she could feel him trying to tug the gun out of her hand and instead tightened her grip on it, the rough edges keeping her grounded in reality instead of seeming obscured by the haze of obedience and madness that had engulfed her after Sethlans had lifted the protecting his Piece had been providing.

"It is all right madonna, it is over," the Italian accented English made her look up to see Ezio, dressed in the familiar robes that she had seen him run around in the Animus memories, limping towards them. He was holding an arm to his side and his breath was labored, a clear sign that while it looked like he had woken up from his coma, he was still not well. It was also then that she noticed both of his hidden blades were covered liberally in blood and the throwing knives he had on him were also covered in blood. Bits and pieces of grey-black Kevlar appeared underneath the torn parts of his outfit, but he looked every inch the Ezio Auditore da Firenze she remembered.

"...Ezio...but-" it only took her a moment to realize who had silenced the screams in the hallway, "you did it. You were the one who had stopped them..."

"Si," the other man grimaced a little before moving past her and leaned against the balcony. "Altaїr you better be alive..." he called down as his words devolved into what she was sure was several swears in Italian. Nonetheless followed his gaze down to see Altaїr, dressed in the robes of the Crusades lying seemingly broken upon a pile of rubble.

He was so still, she thought before she caught the twitch of a hand from the other man and something rolled from the hand, a small epi-pen like contraption before that same hand moved again and threw the bird at Ezio who smiled tiredly in return. "I knew it," the man muttered mostly to himself before Lucy stared at him, wondering what he was talking about.

"I only guessed what Iltani had done to Altaїr, but it seems like my guess was right. She would try to poison him once more with the same poison that almost killed him – perhaps sentimentality, and that the idiota would have at least the antidote ready. Iltani poisoned Alexander the Great and poisons were her forte. Perhaps her weakness too as she could not resist poisoning those she seemingly claimed to love and use."

"What?" Lucy felt like she was missing a part of the story, but Ezio shook his head.

"A story for another time," the Italian Assassin replied with a crooked smile before his expression morphed into a more serious one, "do you know where Sethlans went?"

Lucy stilled as she realized why Sethlans had seemingly left them. She had a feeling that Desmond had ordered the seemingly immortal woman to take care of everyone and if he had abandoned those duties... "Desmond-" the choked cry was ripped from her lips before she pushed herself off of the balcony and ran towards the emergency stairwells. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she ran up towards the vaults, her legs and calves burning with exhaustion as she pushed herself to go faster. Flinging the door open, she barely heard someone shout her name from further down the stairwell as she ran towards the semi-circular room. She skidded to a stop at the scene that was before her.

It was as if someone had painted the room in blackened blood as she looked around, her knees shaking. The overpowering smell of burnt flesh nearly made her gag, one of her hands coming up to cover her mouth and nose in an attempt to contain the smell. Sethlans was no where to be seen, but she thought she saw the tattered remains of what used to be a doctor's labcoat and a stethoscope. A blackened area surrounded the remnants of the the labcoat, but it seemed like the woman spontaneously combusted.

Beyond what was left of Sethlans was something that seemingly half melted into the walls and ground and she nearly threw up as she realized that it was a half-melted body there. Specifically a woman...Iltani. Her severe look was partially destroyed as blood coated one side of her melted face, one of her eyes that remain staring distantly into nothing, dead and lifeless.

A quiet groan made Lucy whip her head around to the other side of the semi-circular room to see Desmond, lying in a heap, the white-hoodie that he wore blackened and burnt. She hurried towards him, kneeling by his side and gently turned him over.

"...Desmond?" she whispered as she shakily caressed his lips and pale face. He looked so dead... She started as another groan emerged from his lips before noticing the shall rise and fall of his chest. "Desmond?" she tried again, gently grabbing one of his hands, feeling the slick stickiness of blood coating her own. She did not know if the blood was his or was someone else's, but her heart leapt to her throat at the twitching of his fingers in her hand.

She watched, holding her breath as his eyelids fluttered a little before he opened them, revealing the soft brown, flecked with bits of gold that she had long recognized and fallen in love with. "Desmond...?" she spoke his name quietly before those eyes focused on her and she smiled. "Hi..."

"...Hi?" her smile died a little at the question that fell from his lips.

"I...I caught you," she could see something was terribly wrong, and realized that there was no recognition, no warmth, nothing to indicate that he knew her.

"W-Who are you?" he asked before squeezing his eyes shut in pain and opened them again, "Who...w-who am I?"

And with those words, Lucy realized what had been sacrificed, what had been given up so that the world may live. She felt the tears fall down on her face as she held him close in her arms.

"You are Desmond Miles," she whispered as she felt him go limp once more, falling unconscious, "you are my love and you are my life. And I am never going to let you fall..."

Epilogue

"So how have you been?" they never met face to face since she had left, but Lucy did not mind not being able to see whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Well," the soft Arabic tinged voice replied back, friendlier and even with a hint of warmth that she knew was not imagined. It was a voice that sounded free from long-held burdens.

"Your wounds healing?"

"Slowly," the other man admitted and Lucy smiled.

"It'll take time, especially since it was poisoned too. Tell Ezio to also take it easy. He did get shot in the chest and he shouldn't be running around this much, not even after all these months. Maybe that's why I thought I spotted him a few hours earlier today."

"I will."

"He's doing better in wake of the complete memory loss," Lucy continued, squinting as she perused the wares in a small kiosk. The sun beat down on her, warming her face, but it was still a bit chilly. "Muscle memory is coming back. He's guessing that he used to be a bartender after we stopped by a coffee kiosk today. Was able to pick out a few blends and tell the barista how to make a good cup. And then also how much alcohol was needed in the cup to make it even better."

"Have you told him much?"

"Not everything, not yet. He understands, but at the same time, he also knows that it's going to take time. We're...happy..."

There was no answer to her comment on the other end of the line, but Lucy knew that it was not meant in a bad way, but rather an understanding of her comment.

"Can you...no wait...never mind."

"Your father is well as is his father. Both were assigned to the research divisions as were the others."

"Oh..." Lucy grimaced a little. She recognized the unspoken, 'Away from the leadership.' It was one of the reasons she had left so soon after everything was said and done.

"You don't have to keep an eye on us..."

"You do not wish us to do so."

She smiled and shook her head, "Yes." She paused for a moment before continuing, "I know you feel like you owe it to him to keep an eye on him, but I think...I think the two of you should ease off. We're...fine. Just trying to find our way in the world. You have done enough for the both of us. It's time...it's time to live your own life, okay?"

For a few seconds, there was no answer and Lucy thought that he had hung up, but then his voice returned, quiet, but proud, "Goodbye Lucy Stillman."

"Safety and peace, Altaїr ibn la-Ahad."

~END~

Author's Final Notes:

So here we are, at the end of a very long and epic story. I would like to thank all of my readers for sticking with this little monster until the very last words. Your support, encouragement, criticisms, have all been a great help to me and I couldn't have done it without you. I would especially like to thank my beta reader Legume Shadow for spending the last two years vetting and editing this story. And now, for a few answers you may have been asking yourself about this story.

The decision to kill off certain characters within the story has always been at the forefront. Over the years of writing, I learned that some characters must die in order to both advance the plot, but also to make an impact for the hero's journey. Some of the deaths in this story were meaningless, but when dealing with the reality of the situation, I always went for the more "realistic" aspect within the Assassin's Creed universe and applied it to the story itself. Desmond's journey was always going to be a hard one, even from the onset of the first game. In a way, I am pleased to see that Ubisoft did not shy away from their version of the ending of AC3 as I had not shied away from my ending of this story.

When I first outlined this story over two years ago, I always had an ending in mind – and that was that by the end of this, Desmond would lose all memories of his ancestors and lose all memories of his life. Whether he would become a shell of a man he once was or something else was still up in the air until I wrote the last few words of the story. I believed that the only way for Desmond to really get out of the Order and go back to his old life was to either lose his memories or die. Ubisoft chose the death option. I chose the other option. Of course, one could debate whether Desmond wants to get out of this life or not, but that's up for fandom speculation.

Onto the subject of Lucy. When Ubisoft announced that she was a Templar and a spy, and really dead, a part of me cheered and only cheered for the Templar spy aspect. The other part of me wailed at the fact that she was really dead. I can go on and on about why Ubi should not have killed her off (even though real-life events could have facilitated a different voice actor), but we won't get into that. I've always thought that Lucy was a strong character, both sure of herself and maternal. She was someone who cared…perhaps a little too much at times, but she was the anchor.

The immortals – or at least about Altair, Ezio, Iltani, Arden, Leonius, and Amunet. My original outline actually had a different plotline regarding these key characters, but Amunet was always written to go completely off the rails somewhere in the story and Leonius slated to die early on. The first of the group to actually die was Ezio, but circumstances changed as did some of the plot lines (the "final battle" was to take place in a Mayan temple similar to moondusted's "Above the Serpentine.") No one was to survive to the end of the story that was immortal in the original outline and its funny how things changed in the course of writing this.

Related to the above paragraph was the ever subtle sinister presence of the First Civilization. As a gamer and perhaps as a person in real life, I've always had an inherent distrust of any perceived "race" that was before humankind – anything to indicate that there was an advance race/advance lifeform before us. That naturally applied when we first saw Minerva in the Sistine Chapel from AC2. It was also what spurred me to start a story regarding the origins of the First Civilization before anything else was revealed. Since the Pieces of Eden were so powerful and based on Altair's codex, seemingly corrupted/possessed people, I decided to amplify that and write it into a story. I'm actually a bit amused that Juno really showed up in AC3…and was evil to boot. Actually, I'm more than amused – I'm laughing my ass off right now.

I also wanted to show a very sinister aspect of the Pieces of Eden, of advance technology that the Templars and Assassins barely know anything about, but covet it so much. I wanted to show the price of that hubris and that lust and thus decided the fabled Lance of Longinus would be a very appropriate way to show what happened when humans messed with technology they barely understood.

But I do have to mention one thing – especially to writers trying to get that single idea down – form an image in your head. Form the image of what you're truly aiming to write about and expand from there. The image that struck me before I started to plot everything down was Desmond vs Altair. Just that…the two of them clashing in mid-pose and I realized, yeah, what happens if Desmond met Altair in the modern day. And from there – how can I get Altair into the modern day – oh immortal – and why is he immortal? From there you can start plotting your story. My second image after that was Desmond vs Daniel Cross. Tee hee.

I was influenced heavily by Babylon 5, Two Steps From Hell, Thomas Bergersen, Jesper Kyd, Lorne Balfe, and probably way too much TV Tropes for my own good. Any further questions can be directed to me in your review or a PM. Thank you again for reading Apotheosis.

Acknowledgments as of 12/20/12:

Thank you to the following reviewers: moondusted, QuinnyBear, J. Tyler, xazz, Stardrag, chipswiththat, Dodectron, KuroKage1717, porkybun, The Exiled Azrael, twelvex, Commander Lagasse, JackOfAllTrades-MasterOfSome, N7-Frost, floutistvivi, Twylyte, East Coast Captain, Anna Cahill, Dolphin2ii, HikariNoTenshi-San, Hijokugei, Heian Edenwood, Mary Song, LyNn-6t7, Switch3d, Isis the Sphinx, Katya Morozov, 8XiongMao8, The Halfa Wannabe, khaos198, Sailor Dying-Will, Zxero88, Dandy in the Aspic, Kaiser Spartan, American-agent12, Tharrow, MollyTheWanderer, Hushed Dreamer, mizuko, Lady Nagome of the West, V is for Victory, Legionary Prime, Zachary, 7Nexus21, lorkay, LindseyWasHere, , Redblade, RyanB, LunaQuetzal, assassino1480

Big thank you to doubleleaf for the wonderful commissioned fanart drawn for me.

Anyone I have missed or anyone reviewing afterwards, I also thank you from the bottom of my heart. You've made it to the end. See you all in my next story!