Peace Be Upon Us

His body lay still, spread eagled on the hard stone floor. His eyes were closed, his face expressionless and peaceful. The tiniest of smiles played across his lips like a shadow of his final thought: He was done. It was finally over.

Rebecca stumbled into the room, shortly followed by Shaun and William. The temple was dark and quiet, and by the time Rebecca's eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, she stood right before Desmond's empty shell. She let out a small gasp.

"Shaun, William, he's over here!" she shouted, hurriedly squatting down beside Desmond. She grabbed his arm and shook him carefully. "Desmond, wake up." He didn't move. In fact, he was too still. Suddenly worried, Rebecca put a finger to the artery in his throat and froze.

"Rebecca, what happened to him? Is he alright?" William asked her anxiously. She shook her head, her face stony.

"Rebecca?" Shaun asked sharply, alarm etched onto his face. "What's wrong?"

"He… he has no pulse," she said eventually, her voice almost strangled. Shaun blinked and stared at her in disbelief.

"No!" William shrieked, dropped to his knees and pushed Rebecca out of the way, desperately trying to revive his son while muttering furiously. But Desmond would not wake. Rebecca took a few staggering steps backwards and covered her mouth with her hands. Shaun put his hand on her shoulder. She turned immediately at his touch and hugged him, her shoulders shaking. After a while that seemed an eternity, William stopped. He punched the floor, and then gripped his hair.

"Damn it!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Damn it… I lost him. I lost him again." William buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Desmond had no physical wounds, no signs of outer damage, yet he was dead. He could not be saved, and William knew it, which made it so much harder to accept.

"He did it, though, didn't he?" Shaun mumbled after a while. His stare was hard and empty, fixed on a spot in the air right in front of him, unseeing. Rebecca peered up at him through tearful eyes.

"I think so," she said shakily, and Shaun sat down on the floor, pulling Rebecca with him.

"He saved us all," Shaun said quietly. "And yet, here he is, all dead, the bloody git."

"Shaun—" Rebecca started, sounding bemused and slightly affronted.

"Sorry, Rebecca, I just…" Shaun said quickly, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

"We've lost them both," William croaked from beside what remained of his son. He had turned away, unable to keep watching Desmond. Rebecca looked up at him at the mention of Lucy, and new tears blurred her vision.

"Where do you go when you die?" Rebecca asked suddenly, not directing the question to anyone in particular. Her lower lip was trembling. "What happens to you?"

"I don't know," Shaun said, sighing. "I've never thought of it, and to be honest, I'd rather not think of it until I have to."

"Maybe it's not so bad," Rebecca murmured hopefully. Shaun chuckled.

"Well, we can convince ourselves of anything, can't we? Hell, we might wake up on a cloud made of cotton candy one day, with rainbows and unicorns floating about while Elvis sings us lullabies," he said sarcastically. Rebecca laughed, and William smiled ever so slightly.

Desmond opened his eyes. He lifted his hand to shield them from the bright sunlight pouring onto his face from the clear, blue sky above him. He sat up, much faster than he meant to. He felt like he didn't weigh anything at all. He plucked at the grass beside him. It both looked and felt real, yet he couldn't bring himself to believe it was. He knew he was dead.

"Well, if this is dying, it's not so bad," he mumbled to himself, and then he felt a bit surprised he could speak. He stood carefully, brushing off his clothes and looking around. He noticed he was still wearing his familiar jeans and white hooded jacket, though this did not surprise him. It was all he'd been wearing the past few weeks, after all.

The grassy field stretched on forever, Desmond thought after quite a while of walking. There were no trees, no bushes, not even a single flower or pebble as far as he could see; only green grass and blue sky, stretching beyond the horizon. The repetitive landscape was starting to unnerve him. The only thing that seemed to vary was the terrain, sloping up and down, forming tiny hills and hollows here and there. He heard nothing but the whispering wind and the sound of his own footsteps. He sat down in the grass again, staring ahead without seeing. He didn't think he could bear staying here, all by himself, for much longer.

"What the hell is this place?" he asked out loud, almost wishing the wind would answer him.

A faint humming reached his ears, and he jumped to his feet, searching the surrounding area for the source of the noise. He turned left and right trying to determine its direction, and then started walking. As the sound grew stronger, he sped up. Eventually, he was running at breakneck speed until he stopped abruptly on the top of a small mound. A figure lay a few yards away in the sea of green, singing quietly. It was a short, blonde someone.

"Lucy?" Desmond called without thinking. She reacted quickly, jumped up and spun around, her arms raised in a defensive stance.

"Who's there?" she asked sharply, and Desmond's heart leapt. It was Lucy. She was just like he remembered; her dirty blonde hair pulled back in the same knot, her pale, oval face, her slightly pointed chin and her astonishingly blue eyes. She was wearing the same white top and jeans she had wore when she saved him from Abstergo, and he noticed her brown jacket lying in the grass. He stared at her, his mouth ajar, not even daring to blink out of fear she might disappear. When Lucy spotted Desmond, she took a few quick steps backwards. Then she stopped, looking closer, and recognition dawned on her face. She took a couple of steps back toward him.

"Desmond?" she whispered, taking another step. "Is… is that you?"

"Lucy," Desmond said again, smiling broadly and raising his hands. "Please, don't attack me, I'd hate to— Whoa!" Lucy had stumbled forward up the hillside and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Desmond stood quite still, feeling a little embarrassed. Unsure of what to do, he remained standing with his hands raised stupidly in the air in front of him.

"You're here," Lucy said happily after a while and released him. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Lucy…" Desmond whispered. His voice was barely audible. The painful memory of why Lucy was here suddenly came crashing down on him like a punch to his face. "Lucy, I am so sorry." He looked away, trying to force back the images that his mind harshly threw at him: the Vault, the Apple of Eden, Juno and her cryptic words, his hidden blade piercing Lucy's abdomen… Every image felt like a knife in his ribs. Lucy looked him straight in the eyes, smiling sadly. He wished she would stop.

"Hey… Desmond, stop beating yourself up about it. It's okay," she said, grasping his chin carefully and turning his face towards her own, forcing him to look at her. He shoved her hand away and took a step backwards.

"What do you mean, 'It's okay'?" Desmond said angrily. "This is my fault! You shouldn't have to be here, wherever this is!" He turned away, his throat burning unpleasantly. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Desmond." Lucy's voice was as gentle as a warm southern breeze. The sound made Desmond's spine tingle. "I know what you're thinking. You blame yourself for what happened underneath the Colosseum—Desmond, will you please look at me?" She touched his hand, and he yanked it out of her reach. He didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want her to forgive him. He wanted her to storm and rage and yell at him for what he had done, yet she was trying to comfort him. It felt sick and wrong.

"Why are you acting like this?" Desmond asked quietly, his voice shaky. He couldn't see Lucy's face, yet he could clearly picture her bewildered expression in his mind.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding politely curious, and Desmond clenched his fists. He spun around to face her.

"Lucy, I… I killed you!" Desmond forced the words out of his mouth. They stung and hurt him deeply, but he knew them to be true. Lucy said nothing, and the sad smile she was wearing did not falter. "You're here because of me! I didn't mean to… I couldn't stop! After everything you've done for me, after all that's happened…" The words tumbled out of him in a rush; the vent had burst open, and he couldn't stop talking.

"Back at Abstergo, you were the only one who cared for my mental health and safety, you protected me from Vidic, put up with my attitude and you gave me just enough information to keep me going. You were the only friend I had, the only person I felt I could trust. And when Abstergo had no use for me, you defended me, gave them a reason to keep me alive. Then you broke me out, gave me a place to hide, introduced me to Shaun and Rebecca, and helped me train, helped me make myself useful. And then—" Desmond hesitated. The vent was starting to close, and he found the words harder to bring out. He swallowed.

"And then we found the Vault under the Colosseum," he said in a slightly strangled voice. "I thought—I really thought that finding that Piece of Eden would help us. But when I touched it, it—"

"Stop," Lucy said. Her voice was still very gentle, yet there was a kind of firmness to her tone that shut Desmond up immediately.

"Desmond, listen to me," Lucy said slowly, emphasizing every word. "I know what happened down there." Desmond gaped at her.

"I know it sounds weird, but when you touched the Apple and I froze, I couldn't move or speak, but I could still see and hear," she said quickly. It sounded like she had gone over this in her mind over and over. "I could barely see Shaun and Rebecca, but I could tell they couldn't move either. I don't think they could see us, since they were facing another way…" she trailed off, sounding wondering and a little confused. Desmond waited, unable to say a word.

"Anyway," Lucy began after a short silence, "do you remember that strange light the Apple was emitting? Well, it sort of looped around me at one point, and then I heard a woman speaking. Who was she?" Desmond was jolted out of his shocked state.

"You heard Juno?" he asked in disbelief. Lucy's eyes widened.

"Juno? The Roman goddess? Are you serious?" she asked in a rush. Desmond shook his head.

"Uh, she was a member of that ancient civilization, 'Those Who Came Before', like Minerva. Juno spoke to me a lot while we were in the Vault, but you guys couldn't hear her," he said uncertainly. Lucy looked perplexed.

"I thought all those people were dead."

"They are, I think," Desmond said, scratching his head. "What spoke to me was a kind of hologram of Juno. She looked computerized, like she was glowing… They had insanely advanced technology, so I guess they had ways of speaking from beyond their graves. That's why people thought they were gods, too."

"How come you could see and hear her and we couldn't?" she asked after opening and closing her mouth a few times. Desmond shrugged.

"I think it might be because of the high concentration of 'First Civilization DNA' in my blood, like my dad called it," Desmond said. Lucy looked completely lost.

"Wait—your dad? Do you mean…"

"William," Desmond said shortly. "He's my father. You knew that, right? I mean, the Assassin Order wasn't all that large. A bit of a coincidence, him having the same last name as me, don't you think?" Lucy stared at him, her eyes unfocused.

"Well, I guess I suspected it…" she said slowly, but then she shook her head. "Um, right. Anyway, I'm not going to pretend that I understood even half of the things this Juno said—"

"Neither did I," Desmond interrupted. "All of those people of the First Civilization spoke in riddles most of the time."

"You saw more of them?" Lucy asked, but then she shook her head again. "Wait, don't answer, I don't need to know that right now. Please, Desmond, try to be quiet for a while, or I'll never finish what I want to say," she said kindly, looking apologetic. Desmond nodded.

"Okay… Juno," Lucy said thoughtfully. "What she said—I couldn't make much sense of it, but I understood that she had somehow taken control of you when you touched the Piece of Eden. And I think she thought that I—that I would somehow stand in your way, that I would hinder you from doing what you had to do." Lucy stopped talking. Her voice had grown unsteady, and there were tears in her eyes.

"I saw how scared you were when—she was forcing you to stab me. I know that, and I could see the resistance and the fear in your face. I remember when she angrily told you to stop struggling…" A steady flow of tears was running down Lucy's cheeks. Desmond couldn't bear to watch her, weak and vulnerable, but he was unable to look away.

"I don't know why this happened, but I—I've been telling myself, at least, that there must have been a good reason. Did she tell you?" Lucy looked at him hopefully. Desmond struggled to find his voice.

"I… I asked another one of them, but they wouldn't tell me. They just said that 'it was something that had to be done'. They wouldn't tell me," he repeated. Lucy looked disappointed, but then she smiled sadly again.

"I didn't want to… to leave, Desmond, but what's happened has happened. What I need you to understand is that I don't blame you," Lucy said, wiping tears from her face.

"You should," Desmond said gravely.

"What?"

"This is still my fault! I should have fought her harder; I should have been able to stop myself!"

"Desmond, there was no way you could've—" Lucy said, but he cut her off.

"How could she have done this?" Desmond roared, suddenly furious. "Why was she able to make me… how could she have had so much power over me? Do you have any idea how much I—" He stopped speaking, and his sudden anger drained away. He looked at Lucy, then at the grassy ground at his feet. He looked up at Lucy again and felt as though he was seeing her clearly for the first time. How could he not have realized it sooner? He felt like he had known Lucy for years. When she had died, his mind had been thrown into chaos. He hadn't had the time to mourn her properly. He hadn't been able to go to her funeral, and he hadn't been allowed to visit her grave afterwards. He hadn't really known her for very long, but still…

"What is it?" Lucy asked gently. "Desmond, what's wrong?"

"How much I…" Desmond stammered, and his voice broke. He couldn't believe that he only just realized how much he cared for this woman. It had always been there. When he first saw her at Abstergo, when he had calmed down properly, he had thought she was beautiful. Nothing more. But then he had started talking to her, trusting her and confiding in her even though he didn't really know her. She alone had been kind to him, cared for him and his needs. Then she had rescued him. Was it then his feelings for her had evolved? He couldn't remember when. Maybe he hadn't had the time to figure it out because of all the pressure that had been put on his shoulders. All that stuff about the Templars, the Pieces of Eden and the end of the world. He suppressed a smile; it sounded like his life had been a sci-fi movie.

"Desmond?"

He was quite surprised when he realized how close Lucy suddenly was. She was holding his hand, looking at him with concern. He gazed back into her eyes, her gorgeous, stunningly blue eyes, and then he leaned forwards and kissed her gently, carefully.

At first, she stood as still as a statue, frozen solid. Then, she responded with such enthusiasm that she jumped into his arms, her hands around his neck, kissing him back. Desmond was both a little shocked and exhilarated.

Supporting Lucy's weight was so easy; it was as if it was nonexistent. He stood with her in his arms, and he found himself wishing this moment would never end. Eventually, Lucy sighed, rested her chin on his shoulder, and Desmond felt something wet trickle down her cheek onto his jacket. Her breath came in small, sharp gasps, and he carried her down the hill and put her down on the grass next to her own jacket. However, she refused to let go of his hand. He sat down next to her and watched her. She was crying and sobbing, yet she was smiling broadly at the same time.

"Hey… you okay?" he asked after what at least felt like a couple of minutes. He still didn't know anything about how time flowed in this place. Lucy laughed.

"I—I'm not sure. I feel absolutely overjoyed, but also kind of regretful," she said, gazing ahead at the endless grassy fields and mounds. "I feel as if I—as if we've lost something." She squeezed Desmond's hand as he nodded.

"We're both dead," he said monotonously.

"To put it bluntly, yeah," Lucy said, sounding crestfallen.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Desmond asked hastily, mostly to change the subject.

"I'm not sure," Lucy sighed and leaned against Desmond. "Does it really matter?"

"No, I guess not."

"So, what do you make of this place?" Lucy asked him after a few quiet minutes. He shrugged, careful not to dislodge Lucy's head, which was resting on his shoulder.

"I think it's awfully boring," he chuckled. "If I hadn't found you so soon, I'd probably have gone crazy by now."

"I take it you haven't seen anything but grass, either," she said, laughing. Then she bent closer and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, but I've been waiting to do this for a long time. You don't mind, do you?" Desmond looked at her, puzzled and a little abashed.

"What—mind? Who, me? I, uh…" he stammered, and she laughed again.

"Desmond, don't act like that!" she chortled and punched his arm affectionately. "We're not kids, after all." Desmond felt his cheeks burn.

"Well, actually, I—I have close to as much experience with this kind of thing as a kid would have," he said hesitantly, and Lucy stopped laughing and lifted her head to see him properly.

"Wait—you've never had a girlfriend or something like that?" she asked him, looking astounded.

"Well, yeah, but it was never anything serious," Desmond said, almost defensively. "I spent half my life on the run, you know."

"Oh, Desmond, I'm sorry. I forgot," she said sadly. "Did you ever get close to anyone after you left the Farm?"

"Not particularly close, no. I had a couple of buddies I used to talk to at work, but…"

"You were afraid of getting too close?"

"I guess you could say that," Desmond sighed.

"Desmond, weren't you lonely?" Desmond looked at Lucy and discovered she was staring at him with a horribly sorrowful expression. Her gaze was so intense, it made him uncomfortable.

"Lucy, please, don't look at me like that," he said, a note of pleading in his voice. "I was fine, I got out of it with my sanity intact, so please don't give me that look." Lucy's expression didn't change, but she nodded and put her head back on his shoulder.

"Do you regret it?" she whispered. "Leaving your parents?"

"Yes… and no, maybe," he said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I regret leaving them. I wish I hadn't been so impatient, and I wish they had been more open with me," he said and gave Lucy's hand, which he was still holding, a gentle squeeze. "On the other hand, if I had never run away and been caught by Abstergo, would I ever have met you?" Lucy sighed deeply, contently, and Desmond could tell she was smiling. They sat in silence for a while, listening to each other's breathing and the wind rustling the grass.

"Hey, can—can I ask you something?" Desmond said eventually, feeling a little embarrassed. Lucy raised her head again and gave him a funny look.

"Desmond, you don't have to ask if you can ask me something," she told him, sounding amused. "Just ask."

"Okay, uh…" He suddenly felt really stupid. "Well, I was wondering how long—uh, when did you…"

"Are you asking me when I fell in love with you?" she said, practically quivering with suppressed laughter. Desmond scratched his head, grinning sheepishly. Lucy shook her head.

"Oh my— what is it with guys and the word 'love'?" she chortled, and Desmond elbowed her. "Alright, sorry, I just—" She burst out laughing again, cleared her throat and forced herself to stop, though the wide grin on her face took longer to disappear. Desmond waited until she had calmed down.

"I guess it already started when you had just been brought to Abstergo," she said eventually. "I had helped Vidic with extracting memories from other Assassin subjects before, and it never felt good, but when you arrived, I noticed I felt positively cruel. I wanted to take care of you, help you, give you information and hope, but I couldn't risk exposing myself as a spy to the company. I was already having trouble sneaking into the surveillance office to edit out any footage of our conversations and your nightly sneaking around." She paused for a moment, thinking. She heaved a sigh and continued.

"I became very persistent about giving you regular breaks from the Animus sessions because I couldn't bear to watch you sink into derangement like subject Sixteen had done. I wasn't doing such a good job at delaying your progress as I had hoped, and when Vidic got the memory he needed, I almost panicked. I quickly thought of multiple arguments to give him a reason to keep you alive, but I knew it wouldn't be enough, so I decided to break you out. I spoke to William, then Shaun and Rebecca and had them set up a hiding place not too far away. When we got there, you changed. You became more relaxed, and my feelings grew stronger. I argued with myself often. I didn't have time to be distracted by a small crush, I told myself. We needed to get that Piece of Eden, and only you could help us, even though it would be risky for you." She stopped talking, and Desmond saw her close her eyes, her brows furrowed.

"Sometimes, I sank into periods of depression. I was sick and tired of this never-ending war, this fight for the means to control mankind, this unknown threat of the sun. Our people were dying, and nothing ever changed. I wished for peace and a nice, quiet life that was about living and not surviving. I was putting the life of the person I loved on the line in a desperate attempt to help the rest of the world. I asked myself if it was worth it. I felt selfish for thinking like that, but everything seemed so hopeless. I was terrified the bleeding effect would start giving you hallucinations, breaking your mind, but we didn't have enough time. I thought you might be hiding it from us when you started sleeping badly; you were twisting and turning every night as if you were having nightmares… Vidic found us, and we kept running." She paused again. While she had been talking, Desmond had put his free arm around her and was stroking her shoulder absently, listening.

"We arrived in Monteriggioni, and you showed more symptoms of the bleeding effect. You saw and followed things no one else could see. It was helpful at times, but I was more worried it would spin out of your control. When we were in the tunnels under the villa, I often saw you jump at something I couldn't see, and then you told me for the first time that you were worried about your sanity. I couldn't do anything to help you, only try to comfort you with empty words… Apart from that, I actually enjoyed our time alone under the villa. We talked, you teased me and joked. It almost felt… normal. Then, when we got inside the Sanctuary, I had to force you back into the Animus. It felt so wrong." Desmond wanted to argue at this, but he didn't want to interrupt her. Lucy had never forced him to do anything. He had helped them locate the Apple of his own free will. She rubbed her eyes and sighed again.

"I gave you the freedom to take breaks whenever you wanted. I knew it wasn't a very good idea to waste time, but you needed it. What was also gnawing at my conscience was the fact that we were keeping you inside a cave, only allowing you out at night with a leash around your neck. You told me you left the Farm because you felt trapped and wanted to see the world. I as good as placed you behind bars in a murky dungeon. Every time you left the Animus, you went outside to stretch your legs, and I knew you felt isolated. I—I actually followed you a few times."

"What— really?" Desmond said incredulously, unable to stop himself. "I never saw you."

"I took care not to let you see me. Why in the world would I follow you outside at night unless I liked watching you?" she said, her cheeks a little flushed.

"You could have said that you wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I wasn't spotted," Desmond suggested.

"I thought of that as an emergency excuse, but it would seem a bit strange, don't you think? You're not a child, and I knew you were perfectly able to stay out of sight. I also had plenty of work I should have been doing," she said with a guilty smile. "Besides, I loved watching you climb buildings, sprint across rooftops and balance on poles as thick as my wrist. It made me proud of you, how much you had learned in just a couple of weeks. I admit I was scared senseless once when you climbed that big iron cross on top of the church and slipped on your way down, but you never even bruised yourself. I always snuck back inside the Sanctuary before you, though."

"What about Shaun and Rebecca? Didn't they notice?" Desmond asked, smirking. Lucy shrugged.

"It was only three or four times I did that, and Rebecca was always so absorbed when she was adjusting the Animus that I doubt she'd notice if Shaun poured mustard in her coffee."

"And Shaun?"

"He probably knew exactly what I was doing, but pretended not to notice," she said. Then she hesitated for a second. "I—I told him about my feelings for you one night when you were outside and Rebecca was getting supplies."

"Oh, yeah, I know," Desmond said without thinking. Lucy stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Wait—you knew? Did Shaun tell you?" she asked, looking somewhat hurt.

"No, no, no! After you—after your funeral, I overheard Shaun tell William when he asked about it," Desmond said quickly. Lucy looked relieved.

"Oh," she said.

"How come you told Shaun?" Desmond asked curiously. He thought that if she had told someone, it would've been Rebecca.

"I don't know… I'd had a really rough week. You—just after we arrived at the Villa Auditore and set up our equipment in the Sanctuary, you started screaming in your sleep," Lucy said miserably, on the verge of tears again. Desmond sighed and swore soundlessly.

"It was agonizing to listen to. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help you, and it was my fault. I had put you in that state." Desmond bit back his argument. He didn't want to interrupt her again.

"That night, I was so distracted and depressed that I couldn't concentrate on the report I was supposed to write. And then I suddenly started crying. I have no idea what happened, but I just lost control. Shaun heard me easily, brought me a cup of coffee and asked me what was wrong, so I told him," she said, breathing hard, no doubt trying to calm down. Desmond didn't know what to say to comfort her, so he wiped a tear off her cheek and kissed her forehead. It seemed to help.

"It surprised me how seriously he took it all," she said after a while. "Shaun, I mean. He didn't interrupt me or give me snarky comments, like he usually would have done. He listened, and then he comforted me to the best of his ability. I've never seen that side of him before, and I never saw it again after that."

"Yeah, Shaun was all right when he wasn't being overly sarcastic and pessimistic," Desmond chuckled humorously. "Lucy, listen. The screaming—it wasn't as bad as it seemed, and it wasn't your fault. I never remembered my dreams, and I wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for the fact that every time I woke up, my sleeping bag was tied in a knot." It wasn't entirely true. He never remembered much of the dreams, except for his bedroom wall at Abstergo, covered in cryptic symbols painted in Sixteen's blood that kept coming back to him. He had often woken himself up screaming awfully loudly, and he had been constantly exhausted, but he didn't want to tell Lucy that. He didn't blame her, and he didn't want her to blame herself. Lucy smiled at him.

"You can't lie to me, Desmond," she said, not angrily, but there was an edge to her voice. "I appreciate your trying to spare my feelings, but I can tell when you're lying; you won't look me in the eyes, and you blink too much."

"Alright, fine," Desmond sighed irritably. "But it wasn't your fault. I signed up for this, so if anyone's to blame, it's me."

"Did you 'sign up' to be born into the Assassin Order?" Lucy asked disbelievingly. Desmond laughed.

"Lucy, of course I didn't, but that's not the point."

"What is your point, then?"

"My point is," Desmond said, lifting Lucy's hand up and putting his own hand against her palm, "that we were both born into the Assassin Order, and if you hadn't been the one to put me in an Animus, someone else would have done it. Apparently, I have ideal genes for the job." He rolled his eyes, and Lucy smiled.

"Your fingers are slanting," she said quietly. Desmond looked at her, feeling thoroughly confused.

"Uh, yeah… what about it?" he asked slowly, studying his own hand. She shook her head.

"Nothing. Just an observation." She took his face in her hands and kissed him. They tipped backwards onto the grass, caressing each other. Desmond stroked her hair gently, and Lucy laid her head on his chest, sighing.

"What about you?" she asked, and Desmond blinked.

"What?" he murmured. He felt like he had been about to fall asleep.

"You asked me when I fell in love with you," she mumbled. She sounded tired as well. "My answer might have gone a bit off track, but…"

"I've always felt something," Desmond said, thinking. "I don't think I realized what it was until I met you here, but I knew there was something. I've never grown to trust someone so quickly, and I've never told anyone so much about myself in such a short time." Then he laughed. "It doesn't match that essay of yours at all, but is that good enough?" She didn't answer.

"I can hear your heartbeat," she said abruptly, a questioning note to her voice.

"Really?"

"There's something odd here," she said. "We're both supposed to be gone, yet I've never felt so alive—so much like me." Desmond didn't say anything, but he understood what she meant. They lay in silence for a while.

"What do we do now?" Lucy asked him, and the moment the words had left her lips, Desmond sat bolt upright, lifting Lucy with him. She stared at him. "What's wrong?"

"There's a tree over there," he said, pointing ahead, and Lucy turned her head and gasped.

"There are more over there," she said, pointing towards a spot about 500 yards away, a little to their left. Desmond stood up and took Lucy's hand, helping her to her feet.

"Let's go check it out," he said excitedly. Lucy bent down and retrieved her jacket, smiled and nodded.

As they walked towards the changing landscape, hand in hand, a single forget-me-not rose out of the earth where the two had been lying, and reached for the sky. The flower grew and bloomed rapidly, its petals' color identical to the heavens above, until it shone like a brilliant star, glowing in the warm sunlight.

Shaun cleared his throat and got to his feet.

"C'mon, we can't sit around here forever," he said, giving Rebecca his hand, offering to help her up. She took it.

"Where will we bury him?" she asked, casting a glance at Desmond's body while she steadied herself.

"Bill?" Shaun called. William looked up. "What do you say we take him to that nice little cemetery outside Rome?"

"Do you mean… next to Lucy?" Rebecca asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, I think that feels about right," Shaun said before turning to William. "What do you say?"

William got to his feet carefully, not taking his eyes off his son. Then he nodded.

"Yes… I don't think he would have objected to that," he said. His voice broke, but his eyes were dry and his face determined as he turned towards Shaun and Rebecca.

"Let's go."