*Begin A/N*

This story is currently on indefinite hiatus until I have the time to finish it. At the very least, you can enjoy what I've done so far. Sorry :(

*End A/N*


I can hear a heartbeat.

"'Becca... keep an eye on that thing, please."

All of my gates save for my ears are sealed shut for the moment. I lie in darkness, fading in and out of a dream I cannot seem to fully awaken from.

"Damnit... he's drifting again. I warned you about this. Too much."

A voice. Two of them.

"Hmph. He's weak. That's all it is. He just needs to get used to it."

No. Three.

"All this time you're wasting on trying to figure out where he is... when you could just as easily be letting him run with it, and working it out on his own. We don't have a lot of time, ladies. He needs to keep moving, no matter what."

"Oh, shut up, Shaun. He's got to rest. "

Her inner thoughts are loud, agitated. She pauses, thinks it over. Ah, now to appeal to his selfish side.

"He's no good to us if he's dead, so we're not gonna push him. End of issue."

No one seems to notice other than me, but I can hear him muttering under his breath as he skulks away, holding his own personal temper tantrum as he returns to his desk. Despite his heartless demeanor, I can still smile, give the man a break. At least he's dedicated.

"Jesus. His heart rate's slower than all hell. He's really out."

"Keep monitoring him. Can you see anything?"

Lucy's nails tap nervously against the flesh of her elbows; I can hear the scrape of her skin cells beneath the soft, keratin shards of her fingertips at a molecular level.

"Nah. I think he's in some sort of temporary remission. He might be fighting it due to fatigue. I think we're gonna stop here."

I can't see them... but I can hear them. Better than I could ever hear anything before... it's almost as if all of my senses have been tied together into one, great big cognizant ball of wires. Every individual interacts with them all as a whole.

"Okay, I've got a pulse on the rise. He's coming back. Keep it steady."

I can hear, no - feel Lucy as she steps up behind me, calibrating the machines. I can see Shaun's distaste for it all, and taste Rebecca's excitement as her eyes bounce back and forth across the monitor in front of her, eagerly eying the code as it spews past her a mile a minute. I can't say that I blame her. They're just as anxious to know about what's in my DNA as I am. Their excitement makes me excited. I want to continue. I want to. But...

"Desmond, are you okay? Hey..."

When I was connected, I could experience everything. Now, as the head brace retracts and the withdrawing slip of the needles tingles my brain like ice, I can barely feel Lucy's hand upon my shoulder. Separated from the Animus, my body feels so... numb. More and more, this thing is becoming my addiction, my threat, my sole release. I feel through dead men who are ages old more so than I can through my own, living self. And this truth frightens me. I open my eyes and sit up.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

Her presence is coming in faster now. I recognize the makeshift lab around her image, and understand that I'm returning to Earth, from a faraway satellite.

"We had to stop; you've been in there for quite a while. One of the longest sessions I've seen you endure yet. I know we said we don't have much time, but we do have to be careful. We don't wanna fry your head."

They're letting me do it. As taxing as it is, they've little objection to my desire to comply and overexpose myself to these memories, other than a distant, ambivalent interest for my well-being. Perhaps the sacrifice of one is worth the greater cause.

"I'll just... a short nap. I just gotta recharge. Wake me up in about an hour or so."

Lucy nods, but there's that split-second hesitation in her eyes. She's tense, fidgety. Clearly, she's thinking the same thing I am. They're close. We are running out of time.

"Okay. We'll uh, we'll wake you when we need you."

She turns around and walks away on heavy heels. It's one of the rare times she denies me eye contact. The urgency in her voice is blatant and filled with disappointment, but her earnest attempt at politeness is laudable.

I make my way upon weary legs towards the rather comfortable looking bed in the back corner. It's a welcome sight, even if only influenced by my being unbelievably tired, and I muse about how ironic it is that I'm so eager to lie down after already having been lying on my back for hours (or has it been days?). In far contast to the Animus's seemingly recreational application and spirit, none of it has yielded me any sleep or comfort. Now, the idea of true rest without it sounds almost fruitful - if not a bit terrifying.

Sleep.

As much as I look forward to it, still something about it fails to satisfy. My mind... it won't leave me alone. It won't stop moving, thinking, willing. Some part of me still clings to outer consciousness, to all of these displaced memories, like condensation upon a window. I haven't found all of the answers yet. We can't stop now! But... I must. Everything is already starting to blur together. What is real? What is now?

I need to sleep, even if only for a little while. I need to clear my head. To see absolutely nothing but black. I can hear a familiar voice fading in and out, like an ancient recording projected from some distant time. I understand the words. The harsh, unrefined accent.

Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.

Exhaustion finally takes its hold. I fall onto the bed. I drift - not by free will, but solely by the desperate dictations of my dwindling body. Even in sleep, I am in overtime. Behind closed lids, I still see the world; a world before I ever even knew it.

Everywhere I look, I see death in all its forms, delivered through the backs of my enemies' throats by the silent blade tucked beneath my wrist.

Please... let me dream something... blissful.

I drift a little further.

Something that, this time, does not take a life, but... gives...