Chapter One

Subject is developing signs of anxiety, paranoia, obsessive compulsive disorder and, most recently, multiple personality disorder. In addition, if subject's lack of sleep continues, he may be an insomniac, as well.

Lucy sighed and rested the clicker pencil's eraser on her lip. She knew the importance of full disclosure, but even she, in all her controlled, sterile objectivity, found it difficult to write the next line. Yet, she managed.

I have been having sexual relations with the subject for the past three weeks. I am trying to become pregnant with the subject's child.

Although it is difficult to diagnose oneself, I have seen in myself signs of the same conditions. Insomnia is the most obvious, followed by anxiety and paranoia.

My own recent string of irrational actions -- pursuing a sexual relationship with the subject; conducting research with the Animus in an effort to overthrow Abstergo; forgoing condoms -- are all well outside of my norm. I view these as signs of my own deteriorating mental state.

I have no doubt that Abstergo is well aware of all of these actions. But then again, that could be my paranoia. It is becoming increasingly difficult to tell. I take strides to hide my journal in my mattress and then to place hairs and other bits of dust on top of it. I check to see if these particles were moved when I go to retrieve the journal the following night. I realize that this is hardly a new trick: It didn't work in 1984, after all.

She cursed herself for allowing the journal to become more conversational again. It was meant to be a scientific record if it were ever found by anyone outside of Abstergo.

If, she repeated in her mind. But somehow, she doubted that either she or Desmond would ever see the outside world again.

Lucy glanced at the clock. 4 a.m. She knew the building never slept. Somewhere, people were working already, or hadn't gone to bed at all. Yet she was supposed to keep normal hours. Vidic kept a tight schedule, with each hour of his day mapped out in precise detail.

Much like his general disposition, Lucy thought. Except for his drinking problem.

As a result, Lucy usually worked a typical, white-collar 9 to 5 day. Yet not recently. Not since Desmond arrived.

I am in love with Desmond. At least, I believe I am in love with Desmond. It is only natural for us to gravitate toward each other since we are both in the same predicament. We are trapped in a prison of stainless steel, glass doors and curt grins.

Yet isn't love something that grows out of shared experiences?

Warren would be walking through the front door, about fifteen stories below from where she sat, in three short hours, but she hadn't slept at all. He always arrived two hours before he actually made it up to the labs. He had meetings with his superiors as well as research to comb over in preparation for the day's work.

Of course, "work" had been quiet recently, ever since Vidic and she had completed their objective with Desmond. They knew the locations of the Pieces of Eden, and somewhere, some teams of Abstergo operatives were out hunting for them.

But they would need more information, and that meant more memories. And more memories meant more subjects.

There was only one bed in the labs. One. That bed was currently occupied by Desmond.

Lucy had saved his life once, convincing Vidic that Desmond still had valuable information locked away inside his DNA. But how many more times? How much longer until men in white coats quietly shuffle him up a few floors, never to be seen again?

And how much longer until she herself made that walk? Would they come for her while she was working in the labs? Or would they come while she was lying in bed wide awake? She lived in constant fear of that moment.

I don't want to die. Not yet, anyway.

Her pencil dropped as she heard a loud rapping on the door.

Her heart pounded in her throat, and her fingers began to quake.

But then the rush of adrenaline calmed as quickly as it had surged. At least now there would be no more waiting. At least now she wouldn't lie awake at night, wondering if the shots create excruciating pain while you're locked in your motionless, paralyzed body, as she had read.

"Ms. Stillman," a stern, male voice said as he pounded on the door again. "Ms. Stillman, we require your attention in the labs immediately."

This wasn't right, she thought. Those who were killed were always brought upstairs, not down to the labs.

"What is it, Dr. Kaputska?" she called out, trying to pitch her voice to sound thick with sleep.

"It is your subject. The bleeding has taken over his psyche."

The adrenaline came back in a wave. She knew what that meant, but she refused to say it. "What do you mean, Dr. Kaputska?"

"He believes he is his ancestor. And we think he's looking for you."

Author Note:

I do not own "Assassin's Creed." And for any of you who finished "When Death Begs," you know what I would do if I did own it! XD

This is a short intro ... After this chapter, I'll go back to my standard length of 2,000 to 3,000 words. I can't promise that my updates will be as regular as they were when I was doing the other one, either. But I will try my best!

This is rated M for violence and mild sexual content. If you read my other fic, you know I try to keep it pretty clean.

By the way, you do NOT have to read "When Death Begs" to follow this story. They are meant to be two complete separate stories. However, this technically does take place after the last chapter of my other fic. As a result, if you DID read all of the other one, I'll sneak in some tidbits for ya.