There Desmond Miles stands, facing down the single ancient and god-like creator that remained, equally as alone as this being has been for so long. The very same being that forced his blade into Lucy's stomach, waiting until after her body was cold and dead to claim it was for her betrayal. The same being offering the world's safety on a platter for the cost of his own life.
He looks up at Juno, a manic glee hidden behind her eyes as her face gives an alien impression of sympathy, her body stiff like an animal ready to be set loose from a cage. She is completely unfazed by Minerva's warning to Desmond, she has high hopes that he is going to make the right choice.
The right choice for her, at least.
Desmond scowls with disgust, at her and at himself as he recoils his hand away from the apple she had offered. Her true nature is well known to him by now, yet he almost followed her orders like the cattle she thought humans were meant to be. Just another tool to be used and discarded once deemed worthless. She almost fooled him, again.
He turns from the false goddess, end of the world be damned he would not give her the satisfaction of a willing martyr. Realizing his impulsive betrayal Juno cries out in anger, lashing a hand out. A beam of solid light whips through the air, striking the retreating assassin on the back of his left leg, slowing his steady walk as he gasps in pain. He grits his teeth, taking another stubborn and painful step forward with the leg. She lashes the beam again like a whip hitting him in the shoulders twice, the strand hits just below his eye cutting and burning the flesh all at once.
"You're a fool!" Juno screams, the rage in her voice venomous. "Your kind will die because you are too stubborn to accept your role in fate! Without me to guide you all, you are doomed to kill yourselves!" Desmond bites the inside of his lip trying not to whimper from the pain as he stumbles to the exit, weakly finding footing in the steep path. Maybe it was selfish, but the end of the world would be better than dying by her hands, after all there is no guarantee that the world will be safe from Juno herself.
Outside, the three other assassins lie in wait anxiously, a heavy air of depression hanging over them. The rush the leave the cave feels like hours ago, but the early sunset of winter made it hard to tell how much time truly passed. The stress added a hesitation to check the time, as though the world would implode the instant someone pulled out a phone.
Rebecca has taken to sitting in the back of their van where everyone has taken turns napping inside at lease once as a desperate attempt to avoid the invisible presence of Juno in the cave, the few fond memories of group naps quickly becoming bittersweet. It's strange how a few months can seem like a lifetime. She lowers her head into her hands, fighting off the returning tears. Shaun is close by, pacing a path into the dirt on the uneven terrain of New York's mountains. A hand continuously runs through his sweat soaked hair as he looks miserably to and from the cave's entrance, struggling with the urge to sprint back inside and give the ancient a piece of his mind.
William stands the furthest away from the others. Their relationships with Desmond were vast in their differences, Desmond's bitterness towards his father has been adopted by Shaun and Rebecca more than they would admit to the older man's face. Maybe rightly so, he thinks as he closes his eyes while looking up to the stars, it seems like a thing of the past now. They all love Desmond, and William's left uncertain whether he should hope to see his son again or mourn for the martyr bringing back the cool dawn.
Their dead, grief-heavy silence is broken by echoing sounds from the entrance of the cave behind their turned backs. Whipping their heads towards the sound of shuffling footsteps a figure begins to slowly become visible as it exits into the bright moonlight, limping as it clutches its shoulder and clearly favoring one leg as bright red blossoms over the broad of its shoulder. Shaun is the first to react, already restless on his feet. He rushes towards the figure, careful not to stumble over the supplies they thought to salvage with no concern towards the identity of the mystery figure until he's close enough to see Desmond's tired smirk. Shock is not a visceral enough word to describe the flood of emotion in Shaun's system as he reaches out to hold him steady.
"Think I really pissed her off." Desmond grimaces as pain shoots through his body with every step and blood drips down the side of his face. "Never was too good with the ladies…" With his witty joke said his eyes roll back, collapsing into Shaun's arms vaguely aware of being barely stopped before making impact with the dirt and hearing someone shout at Rebecca to pull out their first aid.
William runs over to his son's side, helping Shaun carefully carry him to the back of the van where Rebecca has laid out a blanket on the flat surface with the disinfectant and gauze already set out. She grimaces at the sight of the nasty cuts on his back, and dives back into their kit for needles and thread. William glances back to the cave once more as they numbly try to find the best position to set Desmond in, the jaws of death that almost claimed his son slowly closing as a bright flicker of light vanishes forever behind the stone entrance.
They lay Desmond's unconscious, near dead weight onto the thin padding that the blanket set out provide. Rebecca mumbles a joking apology about the lack of a proper hospital bed to him as she wipes away some of the blood on his face, the crescent cut under his eye would be deep enough to scar. They quickly remove the blood heavy jacket and shirt, careful as they try to assess the true damage he'd taken, propping him to the side as Rebecca preps the antiseptic steeling herself to clean the wounds. They all wince at the state of his back.
Deep, bloody cuts run up the length of his back, the edges of the wounds were burnt and bright red while the centers of the cuts ran at least an inch or so deep, still running with blood. Rebecca clicks her tongue, placing down the bottle in her hand and passes the chemical-soaked cloth to Shaun.
"Oh honey, she got you good." She lightly touches the flaking, dried blood forming around the far edges of one of the cuts, clicking her tongue again as she wipes her hands clean and pulls out the last of any of their painkillers and local anesthetic. As she prepares a needle Shaun passes on the cloth in his hands to William after he notices a dark stain soaking into the left leg of Desmond's jeans. With no hesitation Shaun takes a pair of scissors lying close by and cuts the lower leg of the pant's off until the shorter, but equally deep, cut on their patient's calf is revealed.
"No rest for the wicked, eh?" Shaun shoots a look up to Rebecca as he examines the legs earning a n eye roll in response.
After some time, Desmond slowly begins to wake himself up. His body feeling an equal amount of sore and exhausted, making his mood instantly dive down towards 'grumpy' from the combination. As his mind begins to truly return to consciousness it becomes apparent that the air is still hanging heavy with tension, much like how it felt when he exited the cavern. From his reclined position Desmond struggle to see where everyone's position, but it's safe to assume they've all simply gone back to where they were before albeit Rebecca has lost her place in the van. All he can see is the dark sky though the small window in the back of the van that peeks out to the scattered trees outside. The familiar stars in the sky are all that can bring comfort to him in these rural, unfamiliar parts of New York. The moon is out of sight, giving the impression of an impending daybreak. Ominous, in the terrified air of dead silence. No doubt everyone is looking up to the dark horizon with the cold winter night.
The air is sharp, biting at any of Desmond's uncovered skin peeking out over the edge of the blanket someone had tucked over him, his signature hoodie lying in tatters just within sight nothing more than bloody scraps now. Damn, that was his favorite jacket. His only jacket, really.
There's a brief thought of pushing himself up or raising his voice to get someone's attention, but his body already protests the simple act of breathing. The stitches that no doubt went up the majority of his back ache at the thought of moving forcing Desmond to resign in his pile of dirty blankets. He closes his eyes against the harsh winter air as it brings little comfort in the rustle of leaves as they move in the wind. No one has noticed him wake up or made the attempt to speak up if they have. He's left with his thoughts, unable to break the silence himself.
Time continues to march on, Desmond fighting off sleep whenever he catches himself drifting despite the temptation and physical need. If the world is going to end his state of consciousness matters little, but if they live he needs to see it even if his wounds need the rest more.
He's pulled back awake once more by the sound of crunching footsteps. Tilting his head as best he can towards the noise he startles his father as he steps up into the back of the van. William recovers quickly from the shock, not breaking the silence as Desmond watches him approach. He gives his son a tired smile, the night of terror taking a visible toll on his face. He sits himself on the car seat next to Desmond, cluing him in that he'd been moved to the retired Animus he'd been healing in before. William opens his mouth s few times trying to find the right words to.
Unsuccessful, he instead settles on sighing and reaching a hand out to gently rest it over Desmond's giving it a light squeeze. Desmond hold's it back, careful of his shoulder, understanding the frustration of having to way to guarantee protection to the ones he cares for. Without his mother here, they could only comfort each other and hope for her safety until dawn arrives.
And it does. No day of judgement. No horsemen of the apocalypse. No end.
Just another sunrise. Though it may have been as usual as ever to the outside world, here it was beautiful. Bringing warmth to those lying exhausted in the fight for the future.
"So, what now?" Desmond winces at his own dry and raspy voice, but he refuses to stay quiet any longer. No one can find the words for a response as he takes a long drink of water. Shaun shrugs, the cup of rea in his hands threatening to spill with the movement if he tips it any lower. Rebecca looks at the ground shewing the inside of her lip while William appears lost in thought as he watches the bushes around them sway in the wind. After a night like that, they couldn't really be blamed after they'd crashed without so much as a 'goodnight' as soon as the sun was in a visible position in the sky.
Desmond was left with first watch without much choice, joined by a half-awake Shaun until he waited for his reasonable amount of melatonin that he took to kick in. Said man is still trying to kick off the clinging effects of his herbal induced slumber. William catches him as he starts to tip over again, officially spilling some of his still hot tea over the edge of the cup. Shaun curses before mumbling a thanks, raising his foam cup to his lips, eyes still half-closed.
William took second watch after only an hour or so, letting Desmond finally start down the path of recovery as he passed out almost immediately. They wouldn't be much of a team with their star player out of commission. It was about a quarter past noon when everyone finally rejoined the land of the living. Minus Shaun, of course.
"Uh, Christmas?" Rebecca offers half-heartedly earning a woozy snicker out of Shaun.
"Do any of us even celebrate Christmas?" Shaun speaks up, his brain starting to wake up after a half cup of caffeinated tea. He asks again half-serious. "Are any of us feeling especially Christian for this holiday season?"
"We can just spend time together, asshat." She gives him a hearty smack on the back, spilling even more tea onto the dirt. He swats her right back, but there's no malice in the action. In this moment they're all the family that the order is meant to be, the kind of family Desmond ran away looking for when he was younger and stupider.
Didn't expect to find it in the place he ran from.
"I've been craving some spiked eggnog since we got back to America, but I don't think any of my usual tradition are gonna fly now." Desmond sighs, his fresh wounds aching as he keeps himself upright. His father gives him a frigid, disapproving look that earns a sheepish smile in response. It's a fair enough thing to scold him for, Desmond's probably lucky to still have a functioning liver. Drinking had been a part of the job description, or so he liked to tell himself when knocking back shots with patrons.
"Always next year." Shaun places a gentle hand on Desmond's arm with a faux comforting look on his face. Desmond gives a sarcastic 'thanks' pushing the hand away with a wince. Yup, shoulder still hurts.
Scratch that, his everything still hurts.
"There is, isn't there…" William says in thought, his gaze still lingering on his son. There's little reason to keep fighting with his father now, but after years of disowning him Desmond still feels restless under the eye contact. He's saved from the stare down as William finished his line of thought, sharply turning his head sharply to catch everyone's attention making himself the center. "I think we should worry about finding somewhere to hide and recover after what happened here. The sooner the better."
"Always business with you, isn't it?" Desmond asks, being a pain as usual. Theres little venom behind the words now, though the distance between them is still tangible. Maybe they'd funny make peace someday, if William finally thought of Desmond beyond his given role of 'assassin.' There was a reason he ran away.
"There's time for the holidays after we're under the radar. No telling when Templars will pop up and you need to recover before then." It's likely meant to be a parental tone, but to Desmond its more like getting talked down to by a police officer. He sighs, it's going to take longer than he thought.
"We should probably head back into a city." Shaun says, tea finished and interest in seeing another squabble begin to form between the two. "Unlike Desmond, the rest of us aren't recent survivalists or nearly as dexterous. And since he's down for the count unless everyone wants to see me land of my face" Desmond covers up a chuckle under an oncoming cough. "It's where we're meant to blend in best. Even if we got spotted we can vanish into the crowd."
"Why not head to the big NYC itself?" Sitting forward, Rebecca leans her arms onto her knees. "No bigger crowd for Des to hide in while he heals up and things should be cool since our last visit. After that we can pack up and head out wherever we're needed, try to get him used to the modern world again." Shaun grins, pointing to her as she speaks.
"Exactly," he chirps, "I actually happen to have a new friend- quiet." The finger turns from her to Desmond who may or may not have opened his mouth to make a joke, "That one's only funny the first dozen times." The mouth closes with a click, Desmond's face falling into a pout. "She's offered to help out if we're ever close enough to Manhattan, I was thinking of taking her up on that offer."
"Won't that put her in a lot of danger?" Desmond asks, taking a step back in concern over involving an outsider.
"She can take care of herself, Desmond. And it's not like we're just going to take advantage of her, we'll offer our own assistance should she need it." Shaun rolls his eyes, almost insulted on this persons behalf. Desmond huffs softly, its out of his hands.
"Seems like we've got a plan." William says, his hands clasped over his knees.
The next hour is spent gathering up what they can from the entrance of the cave, Rebecca even being brave enough to try and re-open the damn entrance. All of the tech stuck inside is wiped but the hardware is always useful in case of emergency. For whatever reason, perhaps out of sheer spite from the goddess also trapped inside, the doors refuse to open. There's a solid five minutes of Rebecca looking at Desmond silently threatening to drag him over to try again. She eventually gives up, resigning herself to help William cover up footprints and past fires instead.
Desmond is restless in his own skin, reclined in the older Animus and all but stuck sitting still until his wounds officially closed. He'd help out if he could, though right now he was fading back into sleep. Being hurt sucks and being stuck back in this stupid chair was unfair, he's napped in this thing long enough to last multiple lifetimes. He's haunted his ancestors long enough.
"So, this girlfriend of yours… Can she be trusted?" Not one to usually look a gift horse in the mouth Rebecca isn't truly skeptical, but someone has to annoy Shaun while Desmond fades in and out of consciousness as he slowly recovers. Shaun sighs, tapping a finger on the steering wheel in his hands well aware of the game she's playing at.
"Well to start, her name is Dana." He starts talking as Rebecca crawls her way back to watch over Desmond just in case of an emergency. "Secondly, she's a rather nice person. A journalist, the adventurous type that tends to take personal risks in search of information. You two might just get along." Shaun mumbles, turning their van up onto the highway, an eerie lack of cars heading into the city even during non-rush hours. Still, an omen is an omen, Shaun thinks to himself. "What you should be worrying about is about us finding a place to slip in unnoticed." Rebecca waves the set of false IDs they picked up from a nearby contact still brave enough to repay a favor.
"Done and done." Sighing, she sets the papers back down, setting them on a pile of clothes that were going to start their new wardrobe. "What if she's not Shaun? Too much has gone to shit too quickly, and I don't think any of us could handle another incident in what's left of the year."
"We'd already be dead, Becca, or worse. I let her know just what's at risk." Shaun shakes his head. "It's just as safe for us as it is for her, she's an outsider to both parties who stuck her nose into something we shouldn't have. That's how we encountered each other actually, thank you for asking. I helped her cover up her tracks, even gave her some pointers on what too look for, in return for a future favor." More cars begin to join them on the highway, piling up quickly enough that Shaun changes his mind about continuing the journey in this direction. He flicks on the turn signal, merging right until he can turn off an exit watching behind them. Back roads would be faster with so many people taking up the empty space on the highway, Shaun decides as no cars follow them down the exit.
"Fair enough, I guess." Rebecca shrugs turning her gaze back to Desmond again as he shifts in the retired Animus. It'd be a good week before the wounds would close, but right now all he can do was stem off the ache with whatever painkillers they could get their paws on. She watches his eyes flutter open before quickly closing again and covered gently with his less painful arm.
"Dana," Desmond mumbles as he rubs the hand down his face, "sounds familiar." He lets out a long sigh, setting the arm back down. "Oh, I knew a Dana, told her my real name..." Thinking out loud Desmond hums as he looks out the back window of the van. "Think she had a brother, kinda the overprotective type… Maybe the wrong word. 'Bartender' probably didn't give him a good impression." Sighing again, he attempts to drag himself up enough to sit up, lazily stretching his arms and snapping awake as a joly of pain follows his movements. He gives up with a pained groan, settling back on the seat, his ancestors weren't too fond of the healing process either.
"Morning sleeping beauty, ready to join the rest of us yet? Shaun speaks over his shoulder, earning a grunt and dismissive wave in response. Chuckling, Shaun turns back to the road unbothered. "No need to wake up right now. Still a ways to go, hopefully an hour or so to Manhattan if the traffic stays good."
"Probably won't, 's a part of the NY experience." Desmond huffs a laugh, wincing as he shifts a little too much. "Haven't been home in a while, think they'll accept my rent a few months late?"
"That's right, you worked around there as a bartender before you got scooped up." Rebecca sits back in her seat in the front next to Shaun, crossing her legs as she got comfortable. "Think your Dana's are the same one?"
"Maybe." Desmond answers dismissively, turning his head to the front as he raises his voice over the engine. "Her last name Mercer?"
"It is…" Shaun trails off into an interested hum. "That makes for an interesting turn of events."