"Who was that guy the priest mentioned earlier? Something about working?"

Shaun furrowed his brow. "Job? With a long 'o'?"

Desmond chuckled quietly.

"It's a story in the Bible about a man who suffered greatly."

Desmond pursed his lips.

"Come here, and I'll read part of it to you."

The assassin looked thoroughly shocked. "Really?"

"I know you hate reading."

Hesitantly, Desmond crawled beside Shaun as Shaun put his glasses back on and picked up the Bible, opening to the chapter. As he started reading the book of Job, he felt, in that instant, as if he were his mother, and Desmond, him. An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia washed over him, and he ended up falling asleep with his head resting against Shaun's stomach, curled next to him. Shaun watched him sleep for several minutes before marking the page and taking off his glasses, setting them next to his pillow and turning out the light. As he settled down, he pulled Desmond close, feeling an indescribable warmth bloom in his chest.

The next day went by slowly, and as Desmond went under in the Animus, Shaun couldn't help but watch and contemplate if the newer assassin was serious about last night or not. It wasn't as if he could just ask: there were too many ears during the daylight that could overhear, and that could end in disaster for him if someone found out—or even worse, death. He had struggled enough with death since he had been taken from Kate.

His typing slowed as his thoughts went back to the woman he had dated before the kidnapping. She had been the light of his life, and she had only reinforced his faith. What he lacked, she made up for, and even though he lusted after men, he had fallen "head over heels" in love with Kate. He spoiled her with chocolate and walked with her in the park. They would talk about the men that ran through, ogling over the ripped ones that ran shirtless. She was perfect—despite Rebecca humiliating him by announcing they had never made it past second base. She just didn't know the circumstances.

With a sigh, he picked up his typing again and stared at the screen, wondering if Desmond was actually interested or if he was just curious. He realized he was falling behind and mentally kicked himself, forcing himself to become engrossed in his work. It wasn't until he felt someone smack him in the shoulder that he stopped working.

"Hey, take a break. Eat."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Hello to you, too, Sleeping Beauty."

Desmond raised an eyebrow, and Shaun sighed. "Right, note to self: show the illiterate sod Disney."

"I can read!"

"Being illiterate can also mean that you are not familiar with literature of any sort. It doesn't mean necessarily that you cannot read, despite modern influence of the word."

Desmond frowned and pulled up William's chair, gesturing to the bowl of chicken noodle soup on his desk. "Eat, asshole."

Shaun scoffed and looked at the bowl. It did look appetizing. Desmond twirled around in William's chair, grinning like a shit. After the chair's height was totally changed, he stopped and stared at Shaun, who had moved the bowl closer but remained untouched as he worked.

"Um…"

"What do you need, Desmond? I'm terribly behind."

"I had some questions about last night."

Shaun froze. His fingers were poised above the keys.

"I mean, if you're still willing to help me."

He straightened and looked over his shoulder at Desmond, who was fidgeting in the chair. The man was looking everywhere but at the historian, and Shaun slowly spun around, leaning back.

"You meant it?"

"Huh?" Desmond looked at him. "Yeah, of course I did. But I've got questions."

Shaun studied him for a bit. "Ask tonight."

Desmond nodded once and pushed the chair away, leaving him to his work. Shaun never saw the smile Desmond sent his way when he saw him eating the soup absentmindedly.

That night, Shaun was snug in the extra blankets on his bed. William and the others had brought along beds with them, and Shaun had never been happier. He felt someone lift the edge of the blankets, and he turned to find Desmond crawling in with him, dressed in just boxers, compared to Shaun's sweatpants and long sleeve sweatshirt. When Desmond had settled down, the historian saw him pick the Bible out of its spot and flip through the pages to the book of Job.

"Shaun," Desmond whispered as he stopped on a page and pointed to a verse. "Can I ask my questions?"

Shaun propped his head on his hand and moved closer to him, leaning to see the verse.

"Why doesn't he just kill himself? Instead of saying, '"I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil."'"

Shaun shook his head. "Sometimes, suicide is not the immediate solution. There are people who prefer to live and struggle."

Desmond frowned. "Then why doesn't he give up on God?"

Shaun turned the page back and pointed to chapter two, verse ten. "'"You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"'"

Desmond pursed his lips. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why can't we accept just good and not evil?"

"Because we have sinned, and while Jesus has paid the price with his blood, there is still evil in the world that the original sin unleashed."

They were silent for a time longer, and they ended with Desmond resting his head on Shaun's chest, listening to him read the next few chapters. At the end of chapter five, Desmond interrupted him.

"But God caused it."

"Right."

"Why did he say to take his case before God?"

"They don't know that it was God who did such things. They also know that God will care for them, no matter what happens, God will provide."

Desmond twisted his lips. "I don't know…"

Shaun was running a hand through the newer assassin's hair as if he were a child. "Desmond, we cannot always expect to have an easy life. There will be trials and tribulations we cannot know and cannot comprehend. Faith gives us an anchor to cling to, something to keep us weighted down in the middle of a storm."

Desmond was quiet, content against the historian. He sat through chapter six and seven before falling asleep, struggling to stay awake. Shaun smiled down at him, continuing to comb through his short hair. He found himself singing his favorite lullaby his mother used to sing: "Amazing Grace."

He watched Desmond fight valiantly against sleep as he entered verse two. His eyes were hardly a sliver by the end of three, and halfway through four, he was out cold. Shaun sang until he reached the end of the song before he turned out the light and fell asleep, still holding Desmond close.

Shaun began to find that he longed for the nights. He wanted the day to end so he could curl with Desmond in the tiny bed underneath all his blankets that would eventually be pushed off by the annoying oaf. He wanted to wake up with Desmond on top of him, pressed close because it was chilly underground, and the covers had been kicked off. He enjoyed reading to him from the Bible. He taught Desmond hymns and songs of worship in their spare alone time to help keep his spirits uplifted. He enjoyed listening to the man pray every night. He couldn't help but wonder if that was what his mother felt like as she brought him closer to God.

The others began noticing the change and confronted Shaun, who told them off. Desmond began bringing Shaun food and would sit with him while he ate. He would fold his arms and rest his chin in them as he watched the historian eat, occasionally talking or asking a question. His eyes began to get a healthy glow to them. He was focused, alert, and not so jumpy.

They noticed a change in Shaun, too. He was becoming more forgiving. His words had less bite, and he was quieter during the day. They told him that he seemed a bit more spacey and perked up the closer to night they got. He would watch Desmond as if he didn't know he was doing it. They wondered just what was going on every night behind the closed doors of their base.

They were breezing through Job, and, much to Shaun's surprise, Desmond didn't have many questions. His questions had brief answers, usually pertaining to suicide or the like. Shaun enjoyed the other's company at night. Several times, while Desmond was in the Animus, and the others thought he was absorbed in his work, he heard them discuss the possibility that maybe he and Desmond were sleeping together.

Lucy dismissed that idea quickly, he dutifully noted. Rebecca seemed fixated on it—although Shaun suspected it was only for the idea of free porn. He shuddered at the idea. William was just glad they were getting along, but Lucy seemed slightly opposed to the fact.

And then his life went to Hell. Shaun frowned at the soapy dishwater, cursing his existence as he bit back his tears. First, his computer had frozen and a spark caught and now his computer was completely destroyed—thankfully, he had backed up the memories. And since, he couldn't work, the others put him on permanent cleaning duties until further notice. As if to rub that in, the other six went out for the night, leaving him in charge of babysitting Desmond, which in and of itself wasn't the problem, but the idea behind it. He had Rebecca's phone with her terrible heavy metal ringtones, since he had knocked his phone from his desk and didn't notice until Desmond stepped on it, and they heard a sickening crunch.

Then, the crème de la crème, he had checked the London newspaper he subscribed online to, and found, on the front page, Kate, his Kate, his Kitty-Kat, murdered in an armed robbery. He was in tears as he scrubbed absently at the plate, not really seeing what was in front of him. They trickled down his cheeks silently, falling and dropping into the dirty water, but he didn't notice. When a hymn pushed its way to the front of his mind, he didn't pay any attention to it. The words slipped from his mouth as he cleaned.

"I don't get it."

He turned to see Desmond looking at him. He was sitting on his haunches, staring intensely.

"If you're gay, why are you crying like you love her?"

"I did love her." How dare he accuse him of not loving her.

"You're… bisexual?"

"I didn't lust for her, but I did love her. She was perfect."

"I don't get it."

He turned back around, trying not to choke up. He couldn't believe she was gone. "She," he began, pausing to take a deep breath, "she was beautiful. She didn't want a man interested in sex." His voice broke, and he struggled to talk, his voice coming out in ragged breaths. "She—I—Desmond, I miss her. I didn't… get… attend… funeral." His knees gave way, and he was sobbing again for the second time in less than a month. He clutched hopelessly at the counter, crying against the sink.

At some point, he felt Desmond tug him into his arms, and he collapsed in a boneless pile in his arms, sobbing into his chest. As he sobbed, a song pulled at the back of his mind, and through his tears, he found himself singing. It was broken and unable to be understood, but he clung to the song like a lifesaver.

When he woke the next morning, he found himself firmly caught in Desmond's arms, feeling as empty as empty he could get. He felt Desmond stir and hug him tightly.

"You're awake," the newer assassin muttered. "You cried yourself to sleep yesterday. Lucy was pretty mad you didn't get the dishes done until she found out what happened."

He said nothing, pressing his ear to Desmond's chest and listening to the heartbeat.

"I finished Job last night."

He let his hands curl against his chest.

"I hope you get the same ending after everything you've been through."

And he looked into Desmond's eyes, filled with concern and warmth, and he broke down crying again, clinging to him. He didn't look when he heard the door open and close. He didn't respond to the dip in the bed or the voice that was talking to him. All he could do was cling tightly to Desmond and weep into his skin, his mind running through all the things he'd never be able to do with her again.

No more walks in the park to gawk at the men.

No more holding hands and sharing gossip on the way to get ice cream.

No more snuggling together as they watched a movie.

No more going to church, or singing worship songs, or discussing the Bible together.

No more trips to the ice cream parlor, or laughs at the punk rockers, or talks on his mother's front porch while they ate the cookies she would make for them because she loved the dear and was proud her son still had a girlfriend despite his preferences.

He had just lost his best friend, and it ripped him in two.

The next few days weren't there. He woke; he worked; he ate; he slept. He grew thin; he grew pale; he grew weak, and everyone worried. It wasn't until a few weeks later, when he found himself standing under the stars, wondering how Kate was doing in Heaven, he found his answer.

Desmond materialized beside him, or, at least, that's what he thought. In his hands, he clutched the Bible.

"Shaun…"

Shaun looked at him.

"I—I know you hurt right now, but, um… I found this verse I thought you might want to hear."

Shaun looked at him.

Desmond took a deep breath, opened to the page, and began to read. "Isaiah forty-nine, verses thirteen through sixteen: 'Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth; burst into song, O mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.

But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me."'"

Shaun continued to stare at him as he shut the Bible, and Desmond offered a weak smile to him.

"I want you back, Shaun. Don't forget me like the mother does her baby. I can't walk in the dark if there's no light to guide me."

It took a bit to process what Desmond had just said, his thoughts moving at the speed of a sloth, and when they registered, they dawned on him with the brilliance of the world's first sunrise, and his eyes grew wide as he stared at the man. Just as Kate had prepared his faith for trial, so now the torch had been passed to him. He looked at the heavens and stared, wide-eyed, at the stars. He looked back to Desmond.

"Come, and I will make you fishers of men," he whispered.

Desmond looked confused.

"Will you forgive me, Desmond?"

"For what?"

He reached out and took Desmond's hand, holding it against his heart. "For neglecting you. I've been terribly irresponsible in my duties toward you as a disciple of Christ."

He was pulled into a tight hug, a crushing hug, but he felt completely at home there. Desmond was smiling against his hair, laughing. "I don't need to forgive you. I forgave you the instant it happened. I'm just glad you're not turning back into your old self!"

Shaun felt the tiniest hint of a smile tug at his lips, and he maneuvered so he could hug him back. His hug was weak, but he felt safe. Desmond pulled away and offered out the Bible.

"I've been reading this thing to myself for weeks now, and it's incredibly boring."

Shaun took it gingerly and sat down slowly on the grass. Desmond immediately sat against him, eager to have Shaun read to him.

"It all depends on what you read."

"Then I read all the boring shit."

Shaun opened the Bible to the New Testament. "It will take me a bit to recover from this depress—"

"I don't care, just so long as your back. And if you need someone to cry to, I am here. Just… Don't scare us—scare me like that anymore, okay? Sure, Kate's awesome, but Kate's in Heaven, and I'm right here, and I need you."

Shaun placed a hand on his leg as they sat side by side. "I won't leave you for a long time yet."

"Good. You know…"

He looked at the man. Desmond was looking away as if he were embarrassed.

"I've praying for you, the entire time. So that you can have an ending like Job. Maybe even find someone to replace Kate. Not entirely, because no one could do that, but, you know, give you someone to love?"

Shaun studied him as they sat there, not missing the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks, or the way he looked away from Shaun immediately after he looked at him. A small smile tugged at his lips when he felt Desmond's hand move and cover his hand. He twined their fingers together and almost laughed at Desmond's surprised expression as he lay back in the grass. Desmond lay down cautiously and let go of Shaun's hand. He rested his head on Shaun's shoulder, curling up into a tight ball. The historian closed the book and wrapped an arm around Desmond's waist, in which Desmond hesitantly laced their fingers together again. They were silent for a moment.

"It helps."

Shaun gave a low hum.

"With the bleeding effect."

"Lucy said your screaming wasn't as bad anymore."

"I've been praying for the night terrors to go away, and they aren't as bad."

"It's incredible how God works."

Desmond tried to nuzzle closer. "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Church."

Shaun crinkled his brow. "Church?"

"Yeah. It was in one of the passages I tried to read."

He licked his lips, feeling the warmth of his companion's body. "It was pleasant. Mass, however, is much stricter than some of the protestant churches I've been to."

"Which one did you enjoy most?"

"The Presbyterian one. At first, I was appalled by their casualness, but I've since then grown to treasure it."

Desmond was silent for a few moments. "Do you think I'll get to go with you sometime?"

"Our next scheduled off day is on a Sunday. I can take you to the small church in the next town over, if you like."

"How would you get passed Lucy?"

"With everyone in church Sunday morning, it would be ideal to take you to a different town to let you run around. All the 'damn Templar bastards' will be in church."

They were silent. Shaun looked to the stars, his thoughts drifting back toward Kate and all the memories they had. As he recalled them, he began to wonder what a future he and Desmond would have: if Desmond would get married to Lucy, if he'd continue to grow in Christ, or even if they'd still be friends further down the road.

"I think I'd like that."

"Huh?"

"To go to church on Sunday."

Shaun nodded. "You will have to get up early. No sleeping in. And wear your cleanest clothes. It helps to look your best for God."

Desmond nodded in agreement. They ended up falling asleep in the grass.


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