Assassin's Creed: Light of the World
Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns all characters, trademarks, etc. I am merely borrowing their characters for a little fun, and none of this is written for profit.
A/N: The sequel to "Man of the World." Takes place after the epilogue of MotW. If you haven't read that, a lot of this won't make any sense. In a nutshell, Desmond doesn't kill Lucy in AC: B.
This story is complete. The third story in the series is "Fate of the World."
Chapter 1
9/24/2013
16:45
Brooklyn, New York, USA
Desmond sighed as he put down the moving box in their new apartment, stretching. Lucy had gotten a job at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, teaching classes in cognitive neuroscience...now an accepted science due to the advent of the Animus' use in the entertainment industry.
She'd taken a few classes there to finish out her psychiatry degree, and more and more in her classes she heard stories of people who'd wound up committed to mental institutions due to Animus overexposure. He certainly knew what that felt like.
He'd worried about the effects of going back to work so soon after the birth of their son, Kyle, but surprisingly it had been Altair who had advised him to let her do as she wished...and though she was sometimes stressed out by her job, it was clear she loved being back at work, and Desmond had been relieved to see her happy.
Due to his current employment status as the new Mentor of U.S. Assassins, Desmond and his son spent most days together. The other Assassins had not minded Kyle being present, indeed, Desmond's own ancestors – bound to him via his absorption of the knowledge of their Apples of Eden – doted on the boy. Desmond would often leave his office for a walk and find Ezio pacing the training floor, rocking Kyle in his arms and singing softly in Italian.
Kyle was a good-natured baby and seemed especially content when it was Desmond or Ezio holding him. He seemed to prefer Ezio a little more, Desmond mused, probably because he took great pleasure in tugging on the Italian Assassin's beard.
Today his mother and father had offered to watch Kyle overnight, while Desmond and their team moved them into their new apartment. The new apartment was a definite step up from Desmond's own previous living space, their income being supplemented by the fact Desmond was awarded a small stipend of the Assassins' funding for living expenses.
John's voice came from behind him.
"Sir, if you gather any more wool standing there, I'll be able to knit you a sweater with it."
Desmond roused from his musings and realized he was standing in the doorway. John stood behind him with a box in his hands.
"Geez, sorry John." Desmond grinned, moving aside so the other man could set the box down. John smiled at him. "It's okay, I mean, I was only standing there holding that box of books for 10 minutes..."
Desmond groaned good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. "Am I ever gonna hear the end of this?"
John grinned at him now. "I dunno sir, does hearing the end of it involve a beer?"
Desmond looked thoughtful. "A beer does sound pretty good...Luce said she was probably gonna be late tonight anyway...something about grading papers written by students who think Snopes is a quotable source." He chuckled. "I gather she doesn't think highly of some of her students' research skills."
John laughed now, his dark gaze amused. "I'll tell Mike."
He went off down the hall and Desmond looked after him a moment.
Desmond had told John and Michael they were free to pursue their own lives after the events in the Temple, but they had both stubbornly insisted on living near Desmond and his family, and Desmond was fairly sure that one of them shadowed him around the clock.
He'd once asked them point-blank why they insisted on guarding him, and to his surprise, it had been Michael who told him firmly, "We lost a brother, Desmond. We're not losing another. No matter what you order us to do, we'll be around. So you can deal with it, or you can continue to argue about something that won't change."
Desmond had been stunned into silence and could only nod in agreement. He'd never heard Michael - normally reluctant to say more than a sentence at a time speak so passionately about anything – at least, he mused a little sadly, since the Temple.
"Sir, you're doing it again..."
Desmond's thoughts were once more interrupted by John, who grinned at him, Michael standing behind him. Desmond laughed softly. "Okay guys, give me a few and I'll be ready to go." He stepped towards the back of the apartment, moving around the piles of boxes that were, he recalled with some amusement, almost all Lucy's. He himself owned virtually nothing...his old apartment had been rented out to another tenant who'd had no idea what might have become of his meager possessions.
He hit the speed dial on the smart phone Lucy had insisted he get shortly after his father had officially transferred the mantle of Mentor to him. He still hadn't figured out all of its functions, despite his brain being packed with the knowledge of millenia from the Apples.
It rang, and Lucy picked up, her voice sounding a little impatient.
"Lucy Miles."
Desmond purred. "I still love the way you say your name, Mrs. Miles." Lucy laughed on the other end of the line. "Hi Des. Everything moved in?" Desmond looked around. "The boxes are in, and we've setup the bedroom and crib at least. John and Mike want to go out for a beer or two."
"That's fine Des...your parents are watching Ky tonight anyway, right?" Desmond nodded. "Yeah. Mom's been complaining lately about her grandson quotient being low, or something...I don't even think she realized I was standing there when I dropped him off."
Lucy laughed. "Of course not Des, grand kids always trump grown kids in the hierarchy of parenthood. Have fun with the guys Des, you've been stressed out lately."
Desmond sighed. "The Templars will only be running scared for so long, Luce. I'm worried about that other shoe dropping relatively soon." There was a silence on the other end, and then Lucy said, "Try not to think too hard about that, Des. Worrying doesn't do anyone any good."
Desmond sighed. "I know, but tell that to my brain." Lucy laughed. "Okay – Desmond's brain, quit worrying about the Templars and go have a damn beer with your friends!"
They both laughed. "Okay, Mrs. Smartass, I'll see you when I get home."
Desmond hung up and moved back towards the living room, where John and Michael waited. "Good to go, sir?"
Desmond nodded at John. "Yeah." They left the apartment, Desmond closing and locking the door behind them.
They made their way down the street, the sunlight glinting from the myriad of windows in the buildings above them. Desmond led them confidently onto the subway, and the three men were afforded a wide berth by the other passengers of the car.
They got off at a familiar stop, and Desmond looked around as they exited the station. They were close to Washington Park, and it had been this subway entrance he'd been headed for the morning Abstergo's goons had grabbed him. Desmond shivered at the memory, and John looked askance of him.
"Everything alright, sir?"
Desmond nodded. "Yeah. I didn't really think when we got off back there, but this was the way I used to come home from the bar." He pointed to an area of the sidewalk edging the park. "Right there was where Abstergo's goons grabbed me when I was kidnapped last year..." John's sharp eyes noticed something else, and he frowned, striding over to a telephone pole. It was plastered with dozens of pieces of paper, and among them was a faded, yellowed sign.
He tore it off, reading it clinically, then handed it to Desmond.
"This guy looks sort of familiar, wouldn't you say, sir?"
Desmond's golden gaze went to a faded picture of his own face.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
Desmond Miles
Age 25 – Height: 6' - Weight: 195 lbs – Brown Hair – Brown Eyes
Last seen Sept 1, 2012 near Washington Square Park, wearing white hoodie and dark jeans.
If you have any information, contact us at 212 -
Desmond frowned. The phone number was badly faded, and he strained to read it. When he had succeeded in reading the numbers, his gaze went wide.
"This is the main line at Bad Weather."
John looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Weather looks okay to me, sir." Desmond shook his head. "No, I used to work at this bar before...before Abstergo." John stared at him, his dark eyes wide. "You were a bartender?"
Desmond nodded, his eyes still on the missing poster.
"Yeah...for 9 years. I ran away from the Farm when I was 16. Eventually I wound up here, and the lady who manages this bar took me in."
Desmond looked down the street. "As a matter of fact, the bar isn't far from here." John and Michael looked at one another. "Well sir, do they have beer?" Desmond nodded, his expression distant.
"Then I'd say it's as good a place as any to have a drink...maybe you can find your friend and let her know you're okay."
Desmond hesitated. Part of him wanted to be able to thank Christine for the help she'd offered him, and part of him was reluctant to have anything to do with his former life. So many things had changed in the last few months...
Altair's voice echoed in his head.
"Your past is part of what makes you the man you are, Desmond. You have no reason to be ashamed of it or the people who helped you in your time of need."
His ancestor's statement stung. He wasn't ashamed of his old life, was he? What reason did he have to be? Altair was silent, but Desmond knew he and Ezio were listening, as they always did. John and Michael were watching him, and inwardly he growled.
"Damn it Altair, why do you always have to be right?"
There was the mental equivalent of a shrug, and Altair replied, "Blame it on my very advanced age, perhaps." Desmond heard Ezio snort with laughter.
"Okay you two, you've made your point. Knock it off."
Desmond could feel both ancestors' amusement as he looked at John and Michael. "Apparently everyone including the two ancestors sharing my head think I should pay Christine a visit. C'mon."
