The tenses are still all over the place, but I'm sick of trying to fix it. My english teacher would have my head.
He is Desmond, She is Lucy. /Italics are Lucy's thoughts/

[_L_]

She caught him one time, as she was picking up fresh supplies. He later figured she must've spotted a shadow prowling on the roofs, and stashed the supplies before checking it out. After all, dark in-the-middle-of-the-night shadows have a nasty habit of turning out to be hostile, and in their situation it could mean only one thing- blown cover. Peeking up over the edge of the rooftops, she'd visibly relaxed the moment she recognised a rather familiar white-hooded shape shuffling around. She knew it could be nobody but him.

Curious though, the way he paced, fixated with this one rooftop. Even more curious was the fact his hood was actually up for once. He never wore it like that. She'd made a joke about it one time, that he was breaking 'tradition', and he'd reckoned it'd only get in the way. But she couldn't help but notice the strain in his voice, and the way his eyes seemed to harden. She'd known what he was thinking really- that it'd feel too much like them.

By the time she reached his side, he was bending down to touch the tiles. Despite taking care to announce her presence quietly, a habit you pick up when living with a bunch of trigger-happy assassins, his head still snapped up at a frightening speed... but if anything, he looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. She would've laughed, had she not noticed the tension in his shoulders, or dirt caking his jeans, or the distant look he had in those overly bright, slightly glazed eyes. But before she could formulate a question, he jerked away from her abruptly, attention returning to roof in question.

Her blood ran cold. Something wasn't right.

Biting back her suddenly nagging fears, she asked him what he was doing.

He answered rather monosyllabically how he couldn't believe it was still here.

Tilting her head towards him, she asked him what he meant. It... startled her to see the pain in his eyes.

/Pain? Wait... oh no. Oh no no no no no n-/

Gaze never wavering, he answered in all seriousness-

/-o. Oh please, please don't let this be going where she thought it was. Please, pl-/

-and in a voice not entirely his own: the place where he failed.

The place where he fell.

The place where he watched his uncle die.

He would make Cesare pay for that, he swears it.

/-ease. No. ...no./

He must've heard the sharp intake of breath, or else felt the way she froze at his words. His expression had changed, irritation flickering on his face for a moment before he realised, a look of cold horror dawning across his own features as he realised what he's just said. What it meant.

"Merd-Shit. SHIT. Shitshitshitshit. L-lucy... I... it... I didn't... Zio...it was... I... I mean, he... L-lucy I... I... don't... dio mio..." He fumbled over his words for a few seconds, stuttering and stumbling in and out of english while she tried to remember to breathe.

/This can't be happening! Not, not yet, not again... it marked the beginning of the end and she wasn't ready to lose him yet.../

Cursing, he yanked his hood back down and took off so abruptly across the roofs she almost missed it.

/...she'd never be ready to./

She lingered there for a moment, watching his graceless yet graceful form skid away across the waxy roofs with almost practiced ease, before slipping back down into the alley way and sinking to the ground. She feels sick. Maybe she's shaking. Memories try to creep up on her, poisonous whispers in her ears but she shuts them out. Squashes them back down. Locks them up behind the wall she's built.

/The wall she cowers behind when it threatens to overwhelm her. But guilt's a luxury she can't afford anymore. It... it has to be done. It has to./

(Keep telling yourself that, dear.)

When she gets back to the sanctuary, he's already asleep- or at least, he's curled up in his sleeping bag with his back to the doorway,

/She knows it's an act, he never sleeps that quietly any more./

but she doesn't bother him.

/She knows false platitudes aren't going to help here./

She doesn't tell the others either. Not tonight. She can't face it yet.

/She can't face this ever./