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Chapter 3; The Tundra
Desmond found himself pulled back into the fold after that, trusted again, now that he'd been able to convince Lucy that he and THEY could work together. That he wasn't any more dangerous than he had been before.
He thought it was a load of shit anyway, but he supposed he had to deal with it until this… 'Seperation' she had mentioned. He wouldn't have been in this mess if not for Lucy and the Assassins and Templars. He would have been happily mixing cocktails and learning to play guitar, or fixing his motorcycle or… or… He shuddered.
If it hadn't been for the assassins and the Templars and their shit, Desmond—the real, original Desmond, would still have been alive and doing all those things he did.
The real Desmond wouldn't have been driven insane, wouldn't have killed himself… And THIS wouldn't be happening…
But, did that mean that he wouldn't exist if this hadn't happened? Did that mean that he wasn't Desmond? That he was someone new? Or did that mean that he was Desmond, just in a new body?
He decided to stay as far away from Lucy and Rebecca as he could and tried not to think about it because thinking about it made his head hurt and made the OTHERS feel too close.
Lucy didn't let him do much of anything when he was allowed out of his cell. It was obvious just looking at him that he was beyond exhausted. But, he could read over information for errors, wincing because the whole time Ezio was pushing at him, practically clinging to his back like an angry chimp pounding him on the head with a skillet.
Ezio didn't much appreciate the fact people had been spying on him. Certain things, yes, he accepted that they had to be seen… But following him around in his head while he was looking for comfort in the arms of a woman? Or when he had to relieve himself? Or during those waning years of his life when he'd started to become ill more frequently, when he was always so completely bone tired, when the smallest abrasion and cut became sometimes so horridly infected a doctor would have to cut or sear it closed, when just the slightest dampness of the world at night when he was forced to sleep outside would give him a cough or chills and a fever that would last for days, perhaps even weeks, for no reason at all?
No, Ezio would have none of that. Those things were private, there was no point in anybody else seeing, or knowing about it!
"Rude!" He would shout through Desmond's mouth sometimes, forcing his eyes closed; "You're all so very VERY RUDE!"
And Desmond would lean back in his seat and rub at his brow tiredly and try to respond in a calm voice; "We didn't have a choice—" His left fist would curl in his own hair and he'd have to pry his fingers free and pin that hand beneath him to the chair then sit there for a while with a look on his face Shaun said was better suited someone trying to work through a tough bout of constipation, as he wrestled Ezio back to the rear of his mind, or let himself relax while Altair did it.
Lucy didn't know how he'd managed to not pass out yet. She dreaded when he did lose consciousness. Prayed that they were able to wake him up again… that nothing bad happened to him, or his two passengers. She didn't know what would happen when IT happened. When Desmond's body finally gave up and knocked him out. What would happen to the three consciousnesses in his mind? Would they all be forced to merge? Or would everything be OK when he woke up… Or would he simply not wake up at all?
She noticed a trend as well, a trend that didn't set well with her. DESMOND wouldn't eat, ALTAIR would if he was forced, but EZIO, on the other hand, would… with great relish.
He especially seemed to enjoy chocolate. Or, unfortunately for Shaun, Nutella. Shaun had walked in on him one early morning standing in the middle of the kitchen with the only jar of the stuff in the house, the only jar of nutty, tasty spready stuff Shaun wasn't allergic to, with a finger in it swiping the last delicious brown paste from an otherwise perfectly clean container.
"A jar…" Shaun had said, still in shock of it; "He ate a whole jar."
Ezio was also eerily quiet. He rarely spoke, unless it was to shout profanities at them, or to chat at Rebecca, and Lucy had a sneaking suspicion it was more because she reminded him of Rosa than any actual trust he had for her.
He would sit there, as far as he possibly could get from whoever had been appointed his guard at the time… And watch. Memorizing, learning… Calculating
Ezio… Was not at all who she had thought he was.
Everything their history said he did, everything it had said he was, his strength, his cunning, his power… was all there, that was for sure… But there was something else as well— And it was terrifying.
At first she'd been excited, thinking of him as a weapon against the Templars. Thinking of all three of them as weapons against their enemy. How awesome their combined power would be. The Assassins might actually have a chance to win this—
She'd never expected to find herself on the other end of Ezio's stares. Never expected for all that hate and knowledge, to be focused on her as if she were the bad guy.
Ezio, it turned out… Was scary.
And he held no inhibitions toward slowly sinking a knife into your throat, grinning the whole time.
He was a sneaky bastard too, that was for certain, and they found that out the hard way when he wrested control from Desmond shortly after Lucy had contacted one of her informants about how the Templars separated and downloaded memories into their Blanks, and had refused to back off for more than a week now.
Lucy was beginning to worry that he might not be able to back away now, that Altair and Ezio would be trapped back there for good and the whole Brotherhood would be damned because of him.
Worse than that, he'd tried multiple times now to escape. Only just being caught as he tried to slip out the door, or out the window wearing stolen clothes, sweatpants layered over jeans, one of Shaun's sweaters with one of Lucy's belts over it and a blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape.
It was almost comical to find him in such a state because he looked like a child playing dress up, but she constantly had to remind herself that in his mind, he was dressed to travel and travel quickly. She had to drug his food to make him sleep, and even then he remained aware, staring at everything going on around him with angry, dilated eyes, slurring vulgarities at every chance he got.
It was horrifying thinking how close they'd come to losing them simply because Ezio was that quiet when he was trying to escape. Every attempt that had been foiled so far always seemed to happen by luck alone. They'd realize he wasn't where they'd left him, and fan out frantically searching the house, and there he would be, up high, with his eyes keen and alert—
Watching…
After the forth time Lucy began to suspect that the 'escape attempts' weren't really escape attempts at all, and she'd begun watching him back.
Ezio was smart, and he knew that were smart as well… Perhaps he was trying to flatter them by letting them think they'd foiled his attempts when in all actuality he was fattening them up like pigs for slaughter? Making them complacent and biding his time for something different. Something big?
But what?
And then it had come to her…
They'd given Desmond a hidden blade. Ezio knew there was one in the house, but when Lucy had first had a suspicion that the Bleeding was worsening, she'd taken it from him and hidden it.
It was quite possible that Ezio wasn't trying to escape at all, but was pretending, hoping that they would panic and think that he'd found the blade and would be very dangerous with it… Hoping that in their panic they would go to see if it was still in its hiding place and he'd be able to see it. Would know where it was, so when he was truly ready to escape he could do so quietly, without notice, and potentially leave no witnesses in his wake.
Lucy had never realized, before that point, how truly intimidating an assassin could be. Not until she'd thrown open the bathroom door and seen Ezio trying to squeeze out through the window and locked eyes with him.
There was nothing in his face but hatred and anger and confusion. And worse than that… He had the audacity to sit there and continue to stare at her even after she'd drawn her stungun and pointed it at him.
"We're trying to help you, Ezio. You have to understand that. We're like you. We are not your enemy."
He hadn't even blinked, just ducked his head under the sill and attempted to continue out into the growing storm as casually and innocently as if he did it every day.
And she panicked a little because even though she was halfway certain now that these escape attempts were just a ploy, there was still part of her that was terrified at the concept of losing them. So she just said it and let the fear color her voice, let the truth be known because if he was only trying to get away from them, he would leave, and if it was just a test, he would stay, he'd have to.
"They have The Rose, Ezio!"
And he stopped, turned his head and glared at her again. But this time there was something else in his gaze. Something sharp and deadly. It was the very point where he and his weapon became one, and Lucy found herself staring at its edge.
"There is no such thing… It is a myth. I searched for it for years. So did HE and look where we are becau—"
"It's real… It's real and they have it."
He grinned. A grin that made her think of Desmond, and suddenly she didn't see Ezio in his face anymore, it was only Desmond and she couldn't do it. She couldn't pull the trigger and stop him.
He knocked his knuckles against his chest and disappeared out the window.
Lucy stared at the black rectangle he'd left, snow blowing wildly in and ground her teeth. She wasn't one to curse, it always left her with the taste of Dial soap in her mouth, memories of her grandmother scolding and pushing young Lucy's head over the sink and shoving one of those disgusting yellow bars between her teeth. 'Recite! RECITE!'
"FUCK!" Her voice was shrill with emotion and she lowered the stungun and gripped her brow with the other hand.
She stomped to the window and stared out, looking for any sign of where he landed and where he'd gone—
"A peculiar thing, The Rose… One understands, simply gazing upon it, that such a thing is special, important in some fashion… One becomes covetous of it, much like the other Pieces. But where the others can corrupt with their power, and enslave the minds of men, the Rose simply is what it is. And cannot be opened, nor used, unless it wants to be."
Ezio was perched on the thin, miniscule ledge of the chimney above her head, smoke obscuring him save his eyes, squinted because of the acidity of the smoke, but vigilant.
Lucy let out her pent up breath in a whoosh and sagged a little in relief.
He looked down at her and seemed, perhaps as if he were on some level, made of smoke himself; "In my life time, I came across many such artifacts. Things that could not be explained… The Rose, unfortunately, I have very few memories of. I encountered it within the last remaining days before my life slipped into my descendant—" He grinned wistfully; "Such a strange feeling, realizing you are no longer yourself, but part of a child only just created—" His head shook, as if clearing such fanciful thoughts like he would shake water from his hair; "I remember thinking it was very pretty, and when I picked it up it—it sang to me… Inside my head." He touched his brow. "It seemed oh so pleased that I had picked it up. Like a child grateful to be saved from violation. I felt—in that moment—so increasingly sad for it… Out of all the Pieces, I have encountered only a handful I think to be truly innocent and without malice. The Rose, I believe is one of them."
"You're not worried that they'll find a way to use it?"
He shrugged; "It is possible, but highly unlikely." He smirked; "I could not even open it, so what does that tell you?"
"If there is a way to open it, the Templars will find it."
He didn't seem to react, but his eyes shifted somewhat, and Lucy knew the discussion was over.
"Why don't you come back inside, Ezio, where it's warm."
"Do you know why a caged bird sings, Lucy?"
She didn't answer.
"It sings not to please its masters, nor in joy of its fearless comforts, but weeps for what it will never know."
"Have you been reading Mia Angelou?"
His brow wrinkled and he peered down at her curiously; "Who?"
"Never mind…" She sighed; "Just, please, come back inside soon?"
He tipped his chin once, and turned his eyes outward, catching the movement of each snowflake and shift of bare tree branches.
She stepped back from the window and went into the hall, leaning her shoulders against the wall, head bowed into her hand. Oh, Jesus, what was she doing? He could so easily just leave now. Just climb down and walk away and she wouldn't know until she got worried and looked back outside.
Ezio was dangerous. He was stubborn and felt trapped and he was likely to do something stupid to make his point.
Since the day she'd started suspecting Desmond was experiencing Bleeds, she'd begun sheltering him. Keeping a close watch—a tight leash, on him. Trying to protect him…
But to Desmond, Ezio and Altair, it felt as if she didn't trust them… Felt as if they were prisoners. They felt angry and betrayed…
I have to trust that he'll come back… I have to give him a little bit of freedom and trust them to make the right choice. She scowled at herself; If this is what parenthood is like, I don't think I ever want to have kids…
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Shaun liked Altair. Not just because he thought the man was fascinating… But because when Altair was in control, he was practically immobile. Parked in bed reclined and nested in pillows and blankets reading, breathing deliberately slow and even.
He was never loud and obnoxious like Desmond, never angry and brooding and staring as if ready to slit your throat like Ezio. Altair was very unobtrusive, and when he spoke it was no nonsense, he just got right to the point, as best he could.
Unfortunately Altair was never in control for long, and he gave it up without much fuss to whoever came forward first it seemed. When Shaun asked him why that was he said simply; "If allowing them to step forward without fight retains his health then so be it."
Shaun still didn't entirely understand why he was letting them shove him back like that, when they would stay in control for days at a time. It didn't seem rightly fair, you see… but then again, Shaun didn't really know his thought process… Maybe Altair enjoyed that blackness in the rear of Desmond's pea-sized-mind.
Shaun sighed and silently continued writing his observations and searching-searching-searching for someone he thought worthy of taking his place here with the Animus Team. Lucy would tell him not to worry about it, that everything would go fine and he'd be back in a week with no fuss…
Shaun, though, knew what was at risk, and he refused to go into a situation like this without some form of backup plan.
Rebecca, oddly enough, seemed to be the only one who actually understood. She made suggestions, actually made suggestions that were well thought out and not her being stupid.
"What about this guy? He's from Canada." She said in an e-mail, "I think it would be appropriate… Bring the two bloodlines back together."
Shaun blinked at the computer screen and turned just ever-so-slightly green about the gills.
How ironic, he thought, and pulled at the collar of his sweater. He replied to the message with two sentences;
"Despite my unease over WHO he is, his qualifications are alright. He'll have to do."
Rebecca's expression remained unchanged but the message she sent back betrayed her cool, calm exterior;
"He already knows, Shaun. And you need to stop worrying, everything'll turn out alright in the end. This is all too weird to just be a coincidence anyway…"
He sighed and didn't bother typing his reply, just stood and walked toward the kitchen, pausing long enough behind Rebecca's shoulder to place his hand there, as if drawing some of her certainty, her faith into himself because it was quite obvious that he had none.
She patted his hand; "Don't sweat the small stuff, Shaun… We've got bigger fish to fry."
He hummed; "You really don't know how hungry you just made me there… I'd sell my left testicle for some fish and chips right about now."
She laughed quietly and shook her head, shrugging from under his hand as she continued on tinkering, typing in endless lines of code and numbers.
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A blizzard was brewing outside, spitting fat flakes and howling arctic winds without mercy. But they didn't have much choice in the matter of safe houses. And their current one was ticking closer and closer to its expiration date. To stay hidden, they had to constantly be on the move. Hiding in shadows and lurking in doorways. It was given. These were dangerous times, they had to be on constant alert.
One morning, Ezio hunched over the table eating granola cereal by the heaping spoonful, talking quietly with Rebecca about the 'lesser' pieces of Eden he'd encountered, watching with a detached kind of amusement as she scribbled down what each of them did as he described them, since Shaun was still asleep.
"—It really did nothing interesting." He said; "But if you held it up to the sun and looked through the glass, lines would appear that told you the direction… I remember Leonardo liked to lay on his back on the roof and gaze through it for hours."
"Maybe it showed him something you couldn't see?"
He shrugged; "These things were not like the others… Not like the Apples, or the Staff. These things held no malice. They simply were what they were and they had no intent of their own."
She nodded and looked over the list she'd made; "What about the Mirror. You never really explained that one."
He gave a single nod of his head; "I did not like that one… It made me feel watched, but the thing itself could not be destroyed. I tried multiple times to break it, or to melt it thinking perhaps it might be metal instead of glass. But as it was simply, it did next to nothing… Every so often a small symbol would blink in its corners, or it would go completely black for days… The only time it seemed to actually do what I assume it was supposed to do, was when it was submerged in water."
"In water?"
He nodded.
"When it was put into water, and you were to look straight down into it—it… it showed you things. Strange things."
"Like what?"
"I-I only looked into it once like that… I allowed others to try, but I never did it myself again."
"What did it do?"
"It showed me the darkness between all things."
Rebecca didn't like the look in his eye, so she changed the subject. "Okay… Were there any others?"
He thought for a moment, then nodded; "There was a bowl…"
"A bowl?"
He nodded; "It was a very ugly little thing." He held his hands up, indicating a thing about six inches across and two or three inches deep. "I rather liked this one. It did not do anything on its own. You had to have intent to make it work." He munched quietly for a few seconds on his cereal eyes distant, almost wistful. "It was a very ugly little bowl… But, I kept it on a table in my home, and every day would put four pieces of silver into it."
She blinked dully; "Is that all it did? Hold your spare change?"
He shook his head; "No, I encountered it quite by accident in my travels. It was extraordinarily ugly, and caught my eye in a market… I think I gave the woman two coins for it?" His eyes became distant as he thought, then shook his head and continued; "I kept it in my bag for a while, hidden below quite a lot of things… I used it for shaving a few times actually;" He chuckled. "Then one morning I had hold of it and was thinking 'How much can it actually hold?' so I dipped it into a fountain but it didn't seem to hold any water… No matter how many times I dipped it in, the water just seemed to drain out again. I thought it had a hole in it so I turned it over to look and all these THINGS just dumped out of it onto my feet!" He was smiling fondly. "Everyone looked at me and I must admit I did make an unusual scene, standing there holding a small bowl that seemed to empty continuously onto my feet." His arms spread wide; "Buckets and buckets of water came out of it, old fish bones, coins from places I had never been, jewelry, bits of old rotten food, an old knife!" His hands came close and made a rolling motion as if illustrating everything just emptying out of it; "On and on and on it kept emptying! And I had become quite frightened by that point, so I turned it back over and left as quickly as I could… When I arrived back in my home, I found a few boys milling about and with their help held the thing turned over for five hours collecting and sorting the things that came out of it in such an unending stream!" He chuckled; "Finally they became so sorely frightened themselves they fled screaming sorcery."
"Did it ever empty out?"
He shook his head; "I became so weary of holding it tipped over I finally just put it on the table in my home and started feeding things back into it." He propped his chin on his hand; "It really was such an ugly bowl…"
"What happened to it?"
He shrugged. "It was lost when my home was destroyed." A sigh; "I think, perhaps I would like to find it again."
Rebecca chuckled at the wistful, nostalgic look on his face and was opening her mouth to ask what he would do if he did find it again when Lucy strode purposefully into the room.
Ezio's shoulders squared upon her arrival and he bent over his cereal again.
Lucy looked at him with a somewhat pained expression on her face and announced in a low, calm voice that they were moving.
Rebecca leaned back in her seat and rubbed her face; "When?"
"Three days, I want to be out of here when they go after the Blanks." She turned to Ezio, noticing that dazed, separated look in his eyes that meant there was more than one person looking at her. "So, we've got three days to figure out exactly how to separate the three of you." She took a deep breath and let it out; "I want to try loading all of you into the Animus at once."
His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, it looked quite difficult, and his skin had gone paler than usual. But he nodded, Ezio's voice leaving his throat when he spoke; "W-we will not disappear?"
"I want to try, if it looks or feels like something's not right, Becca put in an emergency eject button."
The half of his face that was Ezio scrunched up in confusion and alarm; "Eject?"
"It'll pop you out if something goes wrong… It's really risky, but it's better than being a vegetable." Rebecca clicked her pen a few times as emphasis.
And he gave a little shiver, the left side of his body seeming to just slllliiiiiiip, and a queasy, almost sickened expression came over his face… All of his face. He gave a full body shiver and pushed the bowl of granola away, leaning back in his seat with his nose wrinkled up distastefully.
Lucy didn't like that expression. "Are you alright?"
"I guess he doesn't want to participate."
Lucy sighed, irritably and left.
Rebecca tapped her pen on the table a few times, propped her jaw on her hand and looked Desmond right in the eye, no, past his eyes looking for Ezio; "You're a big baby, you know that?"
Desmond felt his brows drawing down in disapproval and had the distinct impression that Ezio had been listening, just hiding behind his figurative shoulder… And more likely than not, Altair was back there with him, watching.
Desmond had felt hopeless, helpless now for quite some time. He'd tried to hide it behind laughter and a mask of optimism, but that mask was wearing thin, as was his patience…
He wanted his body back. He wanted his LIFE back—He wanted a LIFE. This war had killed him once, he wouldn't let it happen again. But what choice did he have now? He was trapped in this, just like Ezio and Altair were trapped in his mind.
His palm slammed onto the table top hard enough to rattle the spoon in the cereal bowl, and Desmond was suddenly on his feet, stomping after Lucy with a determined scowl on his face.
Lucy heard him coming and turned from the papers she'd been flipping through, something Shaun had printed out and asked her to take a look at. Desmond looked plainly angry, even though that was a weak estimate, but considering his physical appearance at the moment, he looked more like someone who would whine and cry and complain at you instead of someone who could kill you in fifteen different ways before you even knew what had hit you.
And then something peculiar happened. Desmond's left ankle wobbled, his right hand lifted to his brow and Lucy could almost see someone right behind Desmond's shoulder, overlapping him, and she ground her teeth in trepidation.
Desmond was confused at first, wondering if perhaps he hadn't stood up too fast because the world was spinning. Then he wondered if maybe he was about to pass out, something he'd felt he was on the verge of now for days. He was overcome by that strange feeling again, his whole left side was numb and when he tried to move only his right side responded at first, the left seeming to stumble and reluctantly follow. He was reminded of times he'd seen three legged races, or tug-of-wars. Half of him did not belong to him anymore. And his vocal cords seemed unable to handle two people trying to use them at once just stopped working all together.
He couldn't even imagine what he must look like, stumbling around, bouncing off the wall, scowling, maybe even drooling. He would be willing to bet he looked like a zombie.
"Stop—STOP!" Lucy grabbed both shoulders and pressed him against the wall. Eyes worried but commanding. "Sit down. We'll take this one at a time."
Both legs seemed to want to step forward at the time and Desmond, as well as his unknown guest, crumpled to the floor.
Breath woofed out of his lungs and finally his voice cut through. One having the upper hand and using it to their advantage;
"Idiota… Don't move when I move!"
"Stop it! Both of you…" Lucy winced and dropped to her knees; "You have to work together or you'll end up hurting yourself… selves."
His eyes rolled, and Lucy thought it was probably the only thing she'd seen them do together peacefully.
"Okay… What are you trying to do?"
Ezio spoke in a matter-of-fact voice; "You said that all three of us must be aware at once."
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise; "A-are you?" Her hands tightened on his shirt; "Are all three of you there? W-where's Altair?"
"Hiding… The piece of shit."
Her face fell.
Ezio snarled and thumped his fist on the floor; "I looked up to him and he's nothing but a bully! Treats me like a child despite the fact I am twice his age! This is Hell! I swear to you, it is HELL!" He was still a moment, then as if a light bulb went on in his mind he rolled and slapped at the right side of his face, the half Desmond found himself in charge of. "And that's for the misery you put me through!"
Desmond covered his cheek, feeling insulted and somehow freakish that the left side of his body was abusing him. Since Ezio seemed to have nothing further to say and was content to just lay there drumming his fingers on his chest Desmond decided the best course of action was to try and speak, just to see if he could, or if Ezio had won control of that as well.
"I think I liked doing this with Altair better… And what do you mean you're older than him?"
"If I understand correctly how this contraption works I will only remember what has happened until the point there is a child that will eventually lead to you… I apparently didn't father such a child until I was much older than either of you." He sounded proud of himself.
"And how old is Altair?"
"Old enough it seems… He is too serious, and always so depressing. I told him to go cry in a corner and he shut me away for days. Mistreats his elders… Bastardo."
Lucy scrubbed her forehead. It was hard to watch, harder still to wrap her mind around. Desmond was lying there having a conversation with himself, and every so often one eye or the other would blink. She was tempted to put a mirror against the bridge of his nose to try and get a whole picture and to ease the headache it was causing. At least the illusion of two people would be easier to handle than this…
"Okay, Boys… Lying in the floor all day isn't safe, so how about we either get you in bed so you're more comfortable, or into a chair."
"Yes, a chair!" Ezio tried to lever himself up but Desmond was lagging, content to just lie there, so he slapped him again. "Come on, Boy."
Lucy didn't think the image of lunacy could be more complete, but then Desmond seemed to give himself the finger.
They managed to work together long enough to get into a chair.
"How does this move?" Ezio kicked and the chair rolled a little way.
"It has wheels on it." Lucy called, following close behind, feeling very mother hennish. She managed to catch them before they hit a wall and pushed the chair into the kitchen. "Okay, so, we've established that the two of you can be in control at once and only minimal chaos ensues… Dare we try all three of you?"
"I don't see how it would work." Desmond said and motioned to his two halves. "I've only got two arms and two legs."
"Yes, but we have to have all three of you aware at the same time to get you all three into the loading screen at once… Can you two communicate telepathically?"
"No. I was not even aware of Altair's presence until two weeks ago." Ezio started picking at the granola cereal again. "I was in here looking for food—Why is it whenever I'm awake I'm so hungry?"
Desmond dropped his cheek into his palm but didn't have time to seize control of his voice long enough to answer.
"But while I was looking for acceptable food I found myself completely unable to move and he spoke, he asked if I knew how to cook and if I did if I would prepare a certain dish. I thought he was this one—" He motioned to his right side; "But the accent was wrong… Why did no one tell me we were related?" His face screwed up in rage.
"Can I talk now?" Desmond folded his arm over his half of his chest and turned to Lucy; "You said you needed all three of us aware at the same time?"
"Yeah."
"That's happened before… The day you Shaun and Becca told me what was going on. There at first we were all aware at once, I felt both of them but Altair wouldn't let us move. It was really strange, compacted, like we were all being squished together…"
"Like the Bleed you and Ezio had?"
Ezio nodded and Desmond felt seasick. "Yes, it was less than pleasant."
"You were completely freaking out."
"Don't be stupid," And he kept control to prevent Desmond from arguing with him. "How can all three be aware at once without becoming one?"
"Maybe if you're all in control of something different? Like, instead of splitting vertically, how about we try it by section? Or let Altair have control of your voice for a while. That might work."
Desmond didn't like that idea one bit, and since Ezio didn't seem to want to let him speak any time soon, he pulled a napkin out of the little forked holder on the table and a pen from his pocket, writing quickly that he didn't like the idea of only having minimal control of his body, especially his voice, because in the animus that was basically all he had to communicate with.
"It will only last long enough to perform the transfers, then you'll have your body back, and Ezio and Altair will have their own."
Ezio was fidgeting, "What if we disappear?"
"What?" Lucy sat down across from them.
He sighed and Desmond felt seasick again when his head shook; "There really is not sleep in here… There is just awareness of nothing. It's all black and pressing and soundless… I-I do not enjoy that feeling. And it leaves all of us exhausted."
Desmond rubbed at his cheek, wincing… There went another piece of his macho exterior. And then a cold knife slipped into the base of his mind… Was that where Altair was right now? Was Altair purposefully, and willingly locking himself back in that nothingness?
He turned the napkin over and wrote slowly; 'Let's try to get all three of us awake at once… but I want to be lying down.'
Lucy nodded. "We'll go back into the work room and you can lay down. That sound good to you?"
"Yes, I don't see how Altair can stand being alone like that for so long… It would drive me insane. Should I communicate like this as well? With writing?"
"If Altair has control of your voice, then yes."
"I cannot write this language. I only know to speak it because of the time our minds were meshed."
"That's fine, Rebecca speaks Italian."
The left side of his face looked suddenly incredulous; "She speaks…" He thudded his fist on the tabletop but said no more.
Lucy shook her head and pushed the chair toward the workroom then watched with detached amusement as Desmond's body stood, awkwardly, and practically just fell backward against the pillows and laid there.
The next fifteen minutes were spent trying to coax Altair into waking up.
It was strange how it was done. Desmond could picture, in his mind, little versions of himself and Ezio moving about in a large open space in his consciousness. Like a giant windowless dark warehouse. There was no sound, but they could sense, almost feel, where they were going.
Altair was back there, near the farthest end of his mind, sitting hunched over hugging his knees.
They couldn't speak back there, or maybe they didn't know how, but it was almost like finding someone under water, feeling their shape with your hands, identifying they were there and alive and you weren't alone.
Altair didn't want to move. When they pulled at him, trying to draw him forward toward consciousness, he resisted. But it seemed that being an immaterial bundle of thought and consciousness was kind of the opposite of being a physical person, and despite the fact he resisted, they were able to pull him forward quite easily, close enough to the front of their shared mind that he could hear and see what was going on.
"Stop being such an asshole… We're trying to fix this mess!" Desmond heard himself speaking his thoughts, disturbed slightly that it sounded so slurred and weak.
Lucy's face changed, looking relieved, and he wondered when she'd become worried.
"Jesus," she said; "Don't do that again, guys… I couldn't get any response from you at all! I was afraid you'd slipped into a coma." She pushed her bangs off her forehead and let out a breath in a whoosh, waving Rebecca away where the other woman was bending close, face worried.
"Sorry."
Altair was moving, writhing uncomfortably it seemed, trying to escape and shrink back into the darkness.
Ezio's side of the body shifted; "You're terribly stubborn. If we are to separate we must all be aware at one time, otherwise we risk killing one another."
Lucy leaned closer with wide eyes; "What's he doing?" she whispered, as if should she be quiet and peer closely enough into Desmond's eyes she would be able to see Altair.
"He's like a spoiled little girl child! Runs and hides when the game does not fall in his favor!" Ezio twisted slightly.
And then there was a thick string of Arabic and Desmond's hand was suddenly not in his control and had slapped the left side of his face. In the time that Altair had been aware of himself and aware of Ezio stuck in there with him, he'd been attempting to remain civil. He relinquished control, bowed out of fights and arguments, made sure Ezio and Desmond didn't end up killing one another, or themselves. It had been a very, very long time since Altair had been able to actually rest. And it had been longer still since he had been graced with a moment's peace that was not that unrelenting BLACKNESS in the closets of Desmond's mind. He'd gone a little mad back there. Having very little other than his thoughts roaring and shouting that this proved there was no higher power, that this proved there was only chaos… And Altair was damned tired of it. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to SLEEP goddamn it!
And Desmond was caught in the middle of it… literally. It seemed, at the moment, the only part of himself he had control of was his right foot and maybe his nose, but flaring his nostrils and kicking only seemed to add to the chaos of the two halves of his body fighting one another.
Lucy stumbled back a step in shock, watching as Desmond's two hands seemed possessed, slapping and grabbing at one another, punching and scratching and leaving bloody grooves in his skin—And that's when she drew the line. She wouldn't have these two strangers hurting Desmond. He hadn't asked for this to happen, they had no right.
"Stop it! Boys, STOP IT!" And she threw herself on top of him, grabbed one wrist in each hand and pinned them both above his head, sitting straddle of his waist.
The struggling ceased almost immediately and Desmond's face was a strange mash of about five different emotions, although the left side was primarily grinning and looking slightly aroused… And if the growing firmness against her behind was any clue—She wrinkled her nose in disgust and focused on the left side of Desmond's face; "Ezio… You're a horny pig, and if I wouldn't be hurting Desmond in the process I'd kick you in the balls."
His eye looked perfectly insulted but the right side of his face suddenly burst out laughing. It was a strange hiccupping sound, a mixture of Desmond's laugh, and what she assumed was Altair's.
She rolled carefully off of him and sat back in her chair, just looking at him for a few moments, trying to conjure up boundaries in her mind of where one person stopped and another began. It was eerie, that was for certain. Where as before she'd been able to sense Desmond, or whoever was in control by themselves, this time, she could sense all three at once. It honestly felt like there were three physical people laying there on that bed, perhaps all joined at the hip or something, despite the fact she saw only one… it gave her the beginnings of a very bad headache, so she closed her eyes and took a moment, just a short little moment to scream in her head and shout that it had worked. It didn't seem to be traumatic, aside from Altair and Ezio fighting, and all three of them were there at once. Maybe everything would turn out alright in the end. Maybe there was still hope. "Alright, so all three of you are in control at once?"
"Yeah." Desmond's voice was slightly slurred, but having three people trying to use it at once could do that to a person.
"Okay, so who has what?"
"Ezio's got the left side held hostage… I've got my right leg and I think I can wiggle my nose. Altair has the right hand and we're sharing the eye and ear. Oh, and that?" Desmond tone indicated his crotch; "That's all Ezio at the moment."
"Can you feel it?"
"Unfortunately, no, why?"
Lucy gave Ezio a meaningful stare and he flinched, drawing his knee upward a little incase she decided she didn't care if she hurt Desmond or not.
Rebecca came back over about then tapping a spiral bound notebook against her palm. "Everything OK?"
Lucy nodded and turned to look at her, sweeping her hair from her brow.
Rebecca let out a slow breath and motioned over her shoulder; "I was going over some figures earlier, and if all that commotion means what I dearly hope it means, you've got all three of them there at once… So, we can do a dry run. Stick him in the Animus and see if we can actually put all three of them into the loading screen or if they have to be more than just semi aware… Plus it'd give them a chance to actually interact… We just have to keep a close eye on his stats and pull them out if anything starts to look funky."
Lucy's brow creased as she took in everything the other woman wasn't saying. The risks, what could happen if it didn't work… But what it would mean if it did, and turned back to them, eyebrows raised; "What do you guys think?"
Since Desmond kind of flailed a little and seemed to be trying to sit up she supposed they were in agreement. She just prayed that it wasn't a mistake.
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