Summary: It's a long drive to the next safe house. The assassins pass the time by learning more about each other, their past and the issues that plague them now and then. After all, it's been seven years since Lucy has seen Rebecca or Shaun, and no one's known Desmond for more than a week. There's still plenty to catch up on and "More to Discover."
Author's note: Well…hello there! This is the first story I've written, period. When I update, it will be sporadic because life is erratic. Not much else to say, other than a warning that it's really wordy, mostly dialogue, and is more of an exposition of my understanding of the Assassin's Creed universe than anything else. This entire story is more of a set up for things to come, if I decide to continue this train of plot. As for pairings, I'm still not sure if I'll go into that. If I do, it'd probably be Lucy and Desmond, so sorry to all the Shaun and Desmond fans out there. But that's a long ways off, if at all. For now, please enjoy "More to Discover."
Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed and all characters and plots therein are the intellectual and physical property of Ubisoft and the game's creators. This piece of work is for entertainment purposes only and no profit is to be gained.
More to Discover
Chapter One
Words: 5073
"Allright. Guess I better get started…"
Desmond blinks slowly as his consciousness was brought back to reality. Leaning forward, he rubs his face like he's waking up from a nap.
"Are we done?" he questions, looking up at Rebecca who is reaching across the Animus 2.0 to fiddle with some wires and straps.
"For now, yeah," she replies. "That's all the memories we have of Ezio right now. The Bonfire was the last big event in the corrupted data, according to Shaun."
"Besides," Shaun interrupts from the other side of the truck, "You know what happens after that anyway. All you would be doing would be going after Borgia again." He turns back around to his computer. "No need to waste any more time," he finishes with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
Rebecca's face pouts a bit as she finishes powering down the Animus 2.0. "And we can't go farther until we search through your DNA to find another ancestor, or further memories of Ezio. It's too delicate of a process to do it in the truck." As if reminding the small group of assassins that they were still on the run, the truck runs over a bump in the road and shifts some of her equipment around a few inches.
"Shit!" Rebecca exclaims, hastily checking the wires connected to the Animus 2.0. "I think that's as good a sign to stop as any," she says. "If that happened while you were hooked up, it wouldn't be as easy to fix as plugging a wire back in."
"Yeah, we should definitely stop then," Desmond says, inching away from the Animus like it would attack his brain by him being to near it. He looks around the slightly swaying truck as Rebecca keeps checking her instruments. The Animus 2.0 and her computers lie along one of the long sides of the truck while Shaun is a few feet away, on the other side and closer to the doors. "Say, where's Lucy?" Desmond asks.
Shaun sighs dramatically and turns around to send a withering look at Desmond. "Who do you think is driving the truck, Desmond?" he mocks. Desmond sends back a glare, but it is wasted as Shaun already turned back around to face his computer.
"Speaking of which, that's the other reason we're stopping. Lucy has been driving for a while, she needs a break," Rebecca says offhandedly, choosing to ignore the tension between Shaun and Desmond. "She'll probably take a nap in the passenger seat, so I guess we'll see you in a few hours."
She hits a few more keys on her keyboard to hibernate her computer and then turns and carefully steps around the equipment on the floor. Desmond grabs her shoulder before she moves to climb past the partition to the front of the truck. His face is like a little kid looking at their vegetables, scrunched up and distasteful.
"You're just going to leave me here with…him?" Desmond asks apprehensively. He doesn't want to deal with the cynicism on his own.
Rebecca laughs a little and smiles in a carefree way. "Don't worry, he's like that to everyone. You get used to it." With her aloof charm, she pats Desmond on the shoulder and climbs forward in the truck. Desmond turns back towards Shaun as an awkward silence fills the space Rebecca left.
Desmond scratches his head and tries to look around the truck and find something for his eyes to focus on other than Shaun at his computer. Finding nothing, he sighs and picks his way back to the Animus. Desmond gingerly sits back on it, wary of Rebecca's words but still noticing how comfortable it is compared to the Abstergo model.
After a few more minutes of awkward silence as the truck continues on its way, Desmond can't take it anymore. He's just about to give into his curiosity and ask Shaun what he's doing when Shaun surprisingly breaks the silence.
"So how's it feel, Desmond?" Shaun asks, still facing his computer and typing away. His voice is light, almost forced, a far cry from the harsh tone of before.
Caught off guard, Desmond stumbles over his words. "I'm sorry, what?" he asks. Shaun turns around and Desmond notices that his chair is bolted to the floor and all of his equipment is braced in place, unlike Rebecca's. The majority of her stuff is braced or anchored, but quite a few important looking things are barely held in place, knocked further loose when the truck hit the bump earlier.
"How does it feel?" Shaun repeats. "To finally be an assassin, that is." When his question is only met by a blank and slightly annoyed look from Desmond, Shaun groans before continuing. "Back at the hideout, Desmond. That was the first time you killed, was it not? So I ask you again, how does it feel?"
"Oh," says Desmond lamely. "That." Desmond doesn't know how to answer or how to feel and his uncertainty is clearly written across his face. "I…don't really know?" The way he says it makes it feel more like a question than an answer.
"That much was all over your expression," Shaun deadpans. "You should really get better at controlling your emotions. That, or stop being redundant," Shaun mocks. Shaun hunches over his knees and shakes his head. "But that's beside the point. It's better to work through any confusion you might be feeling now so it doesn't get in the way later."
Desmond's face had distaste on it as Shaun kept poking fun at him, but it shifted to curiosity at the end of his statement. "What do you mean, I've got to "work it out" now? Is something wrong?"
"Not yet, at least." Shaun sits back up and crosses his arms. "You ever heard of PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress? If the idea of killing ends up affecting you to negatively, you won't be much of an assassin. Not to mention the past couple days would have been a complete waste." He pauses for a second before snidely remarking, "Though it may still turn out to have been anyway."
"Hey man, why do you always have to be on my case?" Desmond angrily says. "I don't know why you're always so negative to me, but it's really getting on my nerves." Desmond swings his feet over the side of the Animus so that he's facing Shaun. "If it's a fight you're looking for, let's bring it."
Shaun holds up his hands in a peacemaking gesture and shakes his head. "No, no, Desmond. I'm just cynical. I told you back at the hideout that I'm big on conspiracies, yes? It makes me suspicious of everything, even when I see it for myself." Shaun stands up and moves to Rebecca's equipment to sit himself down in her chair and converse more easily with Desmond. "Besides, I think the fight last night proves the training isn't a waste. There were some moves I never would have expected from a slacker like you."
"Thanks, I guess," Desmond says as Shaun sits. Though hardly calmed, Desmond reigns in his anger and leans back on his hands.
"No, really Desmond. You came farther than I thought you would in just two days," Shaun says as he moves a few wires out of the way beneath his feet. "But that brings us back to the question, hm? How does it feel to kill?" Shaun puts his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his hands.
"Look, I'm not sure you're the person I want to be talking to this about," Desmond says as he leans away from Shaun's gaze. "That's kind of a personal issue, and you're not exactly the personable type. Besides, what qualifications do you have to be asking that kind of thing?" Desmond crosses his arms over his chest defensively and swings his legs back up on the Animus so that he's not twisting his neck around. Belatedly he realizes this makes him look like a patient in a psychiatrist's office.
"Well, you look here, Desmond," Shaun says, his tone reverting back to the sarcasm of before. "I may not have a medical degree, but I've seen a lot of my friends, other assassins, go through what you are right now. When they didn't deal with it, tension just built up until they snapped." Shaun shakes his head and looks down the truck towards the doors. "Most eventually got back on their feet, but…I've seen a number of good assassins be set back."
Desmond's anger dissipates as he hears Shaun get reflective, but he still isn't willing to open up. "Yeah, I'm not one of your assassin friends, though. No offense, but I barely know you." Desmond shifts uneasily in the chair. "I'm not going to open up to you, especially since I still don't get why you're doing this."
"Why I'm doing this-must you be difficult, Desmond?" Shaun asks as he gets exasperated and throws his arms in the air. "And you wonder why I'm 'negative' all the time." As he brings his hands back to rest on his arms he says, "Rebecca and I talked while you were in the Animus and decided to help you deal with this for Lucy."
"For Lucy? What do you mean?" Desmond asks, his curiosity stirred.
"You may have only known her for a week and a half, but Rebecca and I knew her seven years ago at the compound. We were all good friends," Shaun replies. Though his words at first could be read as pointed, he says it all in an unusually casual manner. Adding sarcasm back into his words, Shaun continues. "For some reason, she really seems to care about you."
Shaun straightens up and sends a serious look at Desmond. His tone matches his face and it draws Desmond's attention completely, pushing out the sounds of the truck on the road and the slight clinking of chains around the doors. "We care about Lucy. So if keeping her happy means dealing with you," he shrugs, breaking the moment, "then so be it." Shaun leans back in Rebecca's chair and looks up to the top of the truck. "She wouldn't be very happy, with herself or with us, if we let you fall apart. So I decided to put things aside for her sake. Are you willing to do the same, Desmond?"
Desmond looks down with guilt in his eyes. "Yeah, I guess you have a point." Desmond cares about Lucy, of course. She was the only kind contact he had at Abstergo, and she saved him by helping him escape. And by defending him. And by regulating his time in the Animus. She was nice, and pretty and…it was hard not to like her.
Desmond shook his head to clear it. "But the killing thing-it's…complicated," Desmond says. "It's not easy to talk about."
"Goodness, Desmond, it's not supposed to be easy to do or talk about," retorts Shaun, bad mood in full force. "Can't you just get on with it? If you'd just-"
"Okay, Okay!" interrupts Desmond. "I'll talk, I'll talk." He turns his head away and looks around the truck for the umpteenth time, this time noticing how impersonal and stark it looks. "It would just be easier if I knew you better, or something."
"Oh, so you need to know something about me? Well I prefer the color blue over red and my favorite food is pound cake," Shaun mocks, not answering seriously at all. "Or how about my favorite film, Desmond? Would that make you feel better?" Derision colors Shaun's words as Desmond faces him again with annoyance on his face.
"Shut up, Shaun. You know that's not what I mean," Desmond says with aggravation. "Besides, movies are old news. The last studio closed last week."
"How do you know about-? Never mind, that's not important right now," Shaun says while filing the statement away for later scrutiny. He leans back and tilts his head. "What is important is dealing with this. We've been dawdling for too long, and we should get started. You say it's hard to talk about because it's complicated, right?" Desmond nods an affirmative as Shaun continues. "Well, let's start there, then. Why is it complicated?"
Desmond leans back again and brings his hands up to his face. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sighs. "It's just…I don't know…"
"Is it the moral issue of having someone's blood on your hands?" Shaun prods, trying to guess the problem. "Or is it a god-like complex of holding their lives in balance? Or maybe-
"No, no, no!" Desmond exclaims, his voice having a hint of distress in it. He turns his head toward Shaun with a look on his face that could only be described as lost. He closes his eyes for a moment and pushes away the distress and loss, so when he speaks again it's with a level tone and face. "I-you remember how I told you I've never killed anyone, back at the hideout?"
"Yes, of course," Shaun says. "That's why we need to work out this issue of your first kill…or kills, as it is."
Desmond takes a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out in a huff. "…I don't think it's right," he says after a moment.
"Ah, I see the issue then," says Shaun placidly. "Feels like it's wrong to take another's life," he said, figuring that he had already found the issue. But Desmond was shaking his head. With a frown and a quizzical look on his face, Shaun says, "No? Okay, then what isn't right?"
"What I said before," Desmond speaks up, "wasn't right." After another deep breath, he continues.
"I don't think it was the first time I've killed."
A full minute passes without any noise, save for the road beneath the truck. Shaun blinks slowly. "Alright, I wasn't expecting that. People usually know if and when they've taken a life," Shaun says while scratching an eyebrow with a finger. "Care to explain then?" Shaun is very confused; he feels like he's looking at a puzzle with a piece missing.
After another pause Desmond continues. "I mean, I, Desmond Miles, never killed before then," Desmond says. "But Ezio…Altair…they've killed countless times." Desmond is staring off into space as he speaks, eyes unfocused and dazed looking.
"…Desmond, are you hallucinating? If you're having multiple awareness problems-"
"No-it's not that," Desmond interrupts. "I know who I am right now. But in the Animus, who am I?" Desmond faces Shaun with a staid look on his face. "The whole point is that I'm 'becoming my ancestors.' I'm synchronizing with them, controlling their actions just as they would have done in the past. And my ancestors killed."
"Well, that doesn't really mean you killed…" Shaun trails off. But to himself, he's wondering what it does mean.
"Does it, though?" Desmond asks.
He lifts up his left arm, the hidden blade still worn on his wrist. "I controlled their actions."
He flicks his wrist, releasing the blade. "I wielded the weapons."
He thrusts out his hand, palm first so the blade points out along the truck. "And I killed them." He puts the blade away and lets his arm fall to his side. "I did the deeds, so I can't say I haven't killed before." Desmond's face and tone are forced even, but a hinto of anxiety comes out in his words.
Shaun is a bit stuck as how to respond. This isn't his element in the first place; he was never a very open, touchy-feely kind of guy, and he definitely was lacking of a psychology degree. What was he supposed to say? He wanted to help Lucy, so he had to help Desmond deal with how it feels to kill. But this was throwing a wrench in things.
Or was it?
Suddenly, Shaun realizes something. "Well, Desmond, this is all well and good," he pauses to wave away the look Desmond gave him, "But it doesn't tackle the issue at hand."
Desmond roll his eyes. "And what do you mean by that?"
"What I mean is that it doesn't matter if it was the first, second, or two thousandth time you've killed. What matters is how it made you feel," Shaun says with a nod. He leans back and crosses his arms in satisfaction, glad to bring the conversation back on track. But then he frowns as he catches the weariness on Desmond's face.
"But it does matter," Desmond says tiredly. "I know how I should feel, how I would have felt two weeks ago if I had to kill. But I didn't feel that way when I was in the Animus and working through Altair's memories because it wasn't his first time. With Ezio… when he killed it was for the first time. But he felt differently than I would have." Desmond leans forward and hits himself lightly in the chest. "When I was killing those guards at the hideout, I wasn't acting like it was my first time killing. It's like I completely skipped over my first kill, as stupid as that sounds."
Desmond pauses for a moment before smirking halfheartedly. "It's like I was desensitized by video games." The smirk grows a little stronger before he says, "I guess the video game setup in the Animus came back to bite us in the ass."
Shaun smirks back, a little more at ease since Desmond is also at ease. "Ah, the corruption of violent video games," he jokes. "You know, it wasn't our idea to have it that way, we just kept the same setup in the 2.0 so that we could move faster."
"Yeah, I know," Desmond says as he waves a hand at Shaun. "Vidic and Abstergo came up with the controls so that it would be easier to synchronize." Shaun narrows his eyes at this statement, but again files it away in his mind for later. He ponders how Desmond got his information for a moment before focusing again on the task at hand, but Desmond speaks up again.
"You know, this is the longest conversation I've had since I was kidnapped," Desmond says.
"Random much Desmond?" Shaun teases. "We were in the middle of something important."
"Yeah, I guess so…" Desmond mutters. Shaun is about to open the conversation back up before he realizes that Desmond probably has gone as far as he can today.
"Ah, forget it," Shaun says. Desmond quirks an eyebrow at his sudden outburst. "Let's stop talking about 'your feelings' for today. I was never much good at that in the first place."
"All-right then…" Desmond says curiously, drawing out each syllable with a tad of suspicion. "Sound good to me."
The pair lapses into momentary silence. But after a minute Desmond's inquisitive nature perks back up. "So…what are we supposed to do back here?" The truck was sparsely packed; other than Shaun and Rebecca's equipment, Desmond saw only a few bags that were presumably filled with clothes and supplies. He wonders what he's supposed to do for clothes since all he really has is what he's wearing right now. But Shaun breaks him out of his thoughts.
"Why don't we talk about something different?" Shaun offers.
"Is this some weird tactic to try to get me talk about my feelings?" Desmond asks suspiciously.
"Keep that up, Desmond, and people will start thinking you're me, what with all the cynicism you've been throwing around today," Shaun says, one upping Desmond in the sarcasm department. "No, you said earlier that you don't know me very well. The same could be said about you. Other than your file, I've got very little insight into who you are."
"I have a file?" Desmond asks.
"Yes, it's just a copy of Abstergo's info on you, and a few other things Lucy sent. It was surprisingly sparse, but they did have your assumed names, occupations, things like that."
"Great," Desmond says with disgust. "Now two underground organizations have files on me."
"That's the thing though, we should have had a file on you before," says Shaun.
"Say what? That's a little creepy," says Desmond as he tilts his head away.
"Practically every assassin is on file in my database," says Shaun. "I'm personally against it because it's a horrible data security risk, but that's what the leaders want."
"Can you get to the point?" Desmond prods.
"Lucy said you grew up on "The Farm"."
"Yeah…what about it?"
" "The Farm" was one of our assassin compounds," explains Shaun. "It wasn't particularly big, but it was still large enough to have serious ties to the rest of our network. But you were born and spent…16 years there, was it?...and we don't have anything except a note of your birth and disappearance. The file doesn't even have your parent's names."
"That's still more than I would want most people knowing about me," Desmond says under his breath.
"Anyway," continues Shaun, "Would you care to fill me in a bit?"
"Not about back then, no," says Desmond frostily.
Shaun shakes his head. "That's not very helpful, Desmond."
"Look, I'll tell you something about after I left there, but I don't want to revisit that part of my past." Desmond moves himself farther up the Animus' seat so he is a bit more upright. "I left there to get away from it, and even though the rest of my life has gotten turned around in the past couple of days, I'm not letting 9 years on the run go to complete waste."
"Fine, fine, I suppose we can let it go," Shaun sighs. "How about you tell me about-"
Shaun's words are cut off as the truck's horn blares. The cargo area shakes as the tires momentarily run off the side of the road. Rebecca's voice is faintly heard in the back as she yells. "Learn to drive, jack ass!"
Shaun and Desmond are clenching to their seats throughout. When the truck finally stabilizes and seems to continue on its way, they slowly release their death-grip on their armrests.
"Maybe she's the one who needs to learn to drive," Desmond jokes weakly.
"Just be glad you're back here, out of sight. I road shotgun with her once. Only once," says Shaun, leading to the two sharing a quick laugh. "What about you? Do you think you'll be able to handle a driving shift?"
"I don't know," says Desmond. "It's been a long time since I've driven anything except motorcycles."
"Wasn't that how Abstergo caught you? A license?" taunts Shaun.
"Do you exist just to make fun of me?"
"No, but it is quite enjoyable," says Shaun. "But that's something. You like motorcycles."
"Yeah…I do," says Desmond. "To answer you question before, though, I could probably drive a truck if I had to. I had to work a lot of odd jobs, and deliveries were easy to work anonymously."
"I suppose it would be hard to find work when you're moving without an identity," muses Shaun.
"Meh, you get used to it, I guess," says Desmond while scratching the back of his neck.
Shaun raises an eyebrow when he sees that Desmond is using his left hand. "Don't you ever get…nervous having that blade right by your neck?" Shaun asks curiously.
"Huh? This?" Desmond brings his arm down and looks at his wrist. He casually flicks it a few times, bringing the blade in and out. "I went through memories where I had a hidden blade across years and years. I think I have enough practice with it to not stab myself in the neck."
"I still don't understand why you risk it," Shaun mutters to himself, leaning away from the sharp weapon. Louder, he says "You mind if I ask you about something else I don't understand?"
"Sure. Shoot," says Desmond. He expects another question about some skill he picked up from the bleeding effect.
"Where do you get your information?" Shaun asks, his voice unexpectedly intense.
"Information?" asks Desmond, caught off guard. "You mind clarifying that a little?"
"The film studio. The controls. How and why do you know those things," Shaun asks. "The film studio I could understand, except that you were a prisoner in Abstergo when it closed and I doubt Vidic just turned on the evening news. And I had to spend a lot of time hacking Abstergo's mainframe just to find out if they had a specified control setup." Shaun's voice steadily rises throughout his questions. His hands clench his knees as he leans forward. "Again, how do you know?"
Desmond leaned away as Shaun leaned forward during his rant. Once Shaun stopped talking, Desmond shifted his eyes to the sides and swallowed. "That's a little creepy, Shaun," he says.
"Oh, my apologies." Shaun straightened back up and shifted his glasses on his nose. "I didn't mean to be 'creepy', as you put it," he says with a hint of scorn. "But you know these things when in all rights, you shouldn't. How do you know about them?"
Desmond searches his mind for what Shaun is talking about until he remembers earlier in the conversation. "You mean the film studio closing and the Animus controls? You're talking about two random sentences in our conversation?" Desmond shakes his head in bewilderment as Shaun nods an affirmative. "I thought Lucy told you that I had been sneaking out of my room at night. I read the emails on the computers at Abstergo and-"
"You got into Abstergo computers! They have some of the tightest security around," Shaun interjected. "How did you do it? Did you write a virus, or maybe-"
"I'll stop you there," Desmond says, reaching over to physically get Shaun's attention, which was already set on track to speculate for hours on how to hack a computer, before dropping back to the Animus. "I just picked up the passkeys I found lying around. I'm pretty sure Lucy left me one of them on purpose."
"Oh," says Shaun lamely. "Well, that's less impressive then." At the frustrated look Desmond gave him he continued. "But still surprising. I'm guessing Lucy must have hidden your excursions." Desmond had been nodding a confirmatory, but Shaun was pressing forward. "What else did you learn?"
"Well," Desmond says, searching his memory, "Most of Vidic's stuff was random pieces of news, like the film studio. Lucy was looking up something about a woman named Laura…no, Leila."
"That's interesting, but," Shaun asks, "Did there happen to be anything about the company? Like the controls for the Animus."
"Thinking back on it, yeah," says Desmond with a focused look. "When I first took a look, most of the stuff seemed arbitrary. But now that I know about…this," Desmond says with a wave of his hand, indicating the Assassins and their history. "Well, now I realize they were talking about Templar stuff."
"I suppose internally, the important people knew Abstergo was only a front company," says Shaun.
"They were talking about the Pieces of Eden, about me…and the past subjects," Desmond says with a small shiver. "That's how I first learned it was the bleeding effect that did sixteen in, at least."
"Yes, Lucy did tell us that," Shaun says with a hint of remorse. "We weren't able to do anything to help him, regretfully. But this information, Desmond, I can't believe you accessed it."
"There was one more thing," Desmond says. "They were talking about a launch, and they sounded like they were planning to put a Piece on it and set up their "new world"," he speaks with contempt.
"The launch?" Shaun asks excitedly. "Do you mean the one from DIA?"
"Denver? Yeah," Desmond says. "Something about the launch date. I don't quite get why they're moving it, but it's scheduled for December 21 now."
"So soon…" mutters Shaun.
"What was that?" asks Desmond.
"Nothing. Don't worry about it," Shaun replies. He shakes his head and continues. "And you just found these passkeys lying around?" Shaun asks incredulously. He gets up to move back to his station and begins typing furiously. "That's a lot of important stuff. Was there any more information?"
"Not that I can remember," says Desmond. At Shaun's disappointed look, he mutters "Sorry."
"It's alright," Shaun says as he continues typing. "You don't happen to remember the passkeys, do you? Even though they've almost certainly changed them since your escape, it could help me break into their system again."
"I don't really remem…" Desmond trails off before he reaches to pat his pocket. "Wait," he says. Desmond reaches into his pocket and finds a pen. "This was Vidic's. He just left it hanging out of his pocket and I took it off him when he wasn't looking."
"Brilliant!" exclaims Shaun. "Nice work not getting noticed. I know Lucy was covering for you, but still! That took skill." He reaches out and takes the pen from Desmond. "It's a good thing it didn't get damaged when you were fighting," he remarks. "You don't happen to have the other computer's key, the one in the conference room, you said?"
"I'm not really sure," says Desmond uncertainly. "I think it was 30062677? No, wait, the first number was a zero…three zeroes…oh! It was 00062677."
"Good, good," says Shaun. His fingers are still gliding over the keys of his computer even as he looks over his shoulder to face Desmond standing behind him. "Desmond, this is going to move a number of operations forward. Nice work." Shaun turns back around to his screen to become absorbed in his work, but he stops typing and faces Desmond again. "Oh, and Desmond…"
"Yeah?"
"Work on your memory. If you want to be any use as an assassin, you need to remember things better, without all of these vague snippets," Shaun snidely finishes before turning back around. "For now, write down anything else you remember from those emails."
Desmond snorts in annoyance. "Thanks a lot, jerk." But Shaun doesn't reply except for a knowing smirk on his face. Desmond rolls his eyes at him before shifting to get comfortable in the Animus chair. Finding nothing else to occupy his time for the rest of the truck ride, Desmond decides to take a nap. At the very least, it's an alternative to 'searching his feelings.' Maybe the sleep will help clear his mind from the past several days.
A/N: Feedback of any kind, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated! Please review and tell me what you think.