When Altair had first dropped in with his apple related problems and bad news, Desmond had felt fine. When he uses his apple to stop by the eighteenth century to send (the very confused) Haytham and Connor to his own time, he starts to feel the first uncomfortable pangs of wrongness, rolling out of his gut in churning, shifting waves. When he gets to the sixteenth century and Ezio, the older assassin takes one look at him and says, "You too?"

"Yep," Desmond says. In the last quarter hour or so, he's gone from completely fine to being painted with the same twisting, dancing lights he'd seen on Altair. And, now that he's here, on Ezio. Edward has gone unusually quiet in his head, clearly affected by the same sense of wrongness that Desmond can feel. "We're meeting up in my time," he says. "To see if we can figure out what's going on. Wanna come?"

Ezio nods, but before they leave he stops to say goodbye to his wife. Desmond waits outside while the two of them have a hurried conversation inside the house- while Sophia knows the broad strokes of the kind of strangeness Ezio is involved in, there are a lot of details she hasn't been filled in on. She's never met Desmond, for instance, and now doesn't seem like a good time for introductions.

When they're done, Desmond lets his apple flare up inside him (it resists, taking longer than it should to get up to full power), carrying the two of them back home. "What," Edward complains. "Don't I get to come?"

"You're in my head," Desmond says. "Close enough."

"Oh come on," Edward whines. "I can't say anything or talk to anyone-"

"Please, Edward," Desmond closes his eyes as the hideout fades into reality around them. "Every time I use the apple, it gets worse. Please don't make me come get you, too."

And Edward doesn't argue, just glances down through Desmond's mind at the stuttering quality of the lights on his arms, and lapses into worried silence.

"Desmond," Haytham says, the second he notices him there. "Where's-"

"Edward's in here," Desmond says, anticipating Haytham's question. "Did I miss anything?"

"Altair caught us up on what's going on," Connor says, from his place wedged between the table and the wall. This is not a particularly large safe house, and with seven people crammed into the tiny kitchen, that's becoming more and more obvious. "He said his apple's acting up, and…" his eyes narrow as he takes in Desmond and Ezio. "Neither one of you looks much better."

"I don't understand this at all," Shaun announces. "Why would this just start happening? Why now?"

Desmond starts to say that none of them have any idea, and that's why they're all gathered here. They need to compare notes, see if anyone's noticed anything weird. Except that right then, the apple inside him explodes.

It has been more than two years since the apple has found its home inside Desmond. During that time, in a process so slow and gradual that Desmond has barely been aware of it, the apple has insinuated itself into every fiber of his mind and body. Every cell, every thought, every single piece of him is bonded to the apple, tightly and deeply, in a way that goes well beyond the merely physical.

And now it is bursting out of him, and Desmond feels like he's being torn apart in the process. It hurts, and Desmond is driven to all fours by the overwhelming pain. Breathing becomes a struggle, his limbs buzz and shake and then go numb, and his vision fades to a bright white haze of pain. Had there been enough air left in his lungs, Desmond would have shouted with the pain of it all, but as it is it's all he can do to keep from passing out completely.

And then the pain begins to focus. The apple's drawing into a tight ball inside him, a hard knot in the center of his chest. Desmond fights against it with everything he has, but the apple, as always, seems to have a mind of its own and no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop the apple from doing what it wants- slowly, agonizingly, the apple leaks out of him.

And then… the apple is gone. Just gone, as though it had never been there at all. The pain slowly fades, and Desmond is left in a shivering heap on the floor. He feels empty (because of the apple), and also unbearably alone- it takes him a minute or so to realize that's because Edward is gone, and he's alone in his head. But it's not until he opens his eyes, and realizes that the only ones left in the room are himself, Shaun, and Rebecca that Desmond starts to get the first inkling of just how bad things have gotten.

"Desmond?" Rebecca says, quietly, when she sees him starting to recover. "Are you okay?"

No, he's not. "I think so," he lies. "What happened?"

"Well, you collapsed," Rebecca says. Her voice is cautious, a little worried, like she already knows he won't like what she has to say. "Then Altair, and Ezio did too, and…" she stops, and her eyes drift a little to the side- Desmond follows her gaze and feels his stomach lurch as he sees three apples on the ground nearby. Even from this distance, Desmond can tell they're empty. He's not exactly sure what they're empty of (he's never understood how or why the apples actually work), but they're missing whatever spark it is that makes them pieces of Eden rather than pieces of metal.

"Something drained them," Rebecca says. "Everything went kind of… golden and glowy, and then it went back to normal, and everyone else just- vanished."

No apples means no time travel. No time travel means no ancestors. No ancestors means Desmond is- he's alone, completely alone, for the first time in a long time. And Desmond has said goodbye to people before, at the farm, and in New York after running away. But none of those people ever lived inside his head- losing his ancestors literally feels like a huge part of himself has just died. His head feels too large for just him by himself, echoing and empty where there should be someone else there with him. "Shit," Desmond says, stumbling to his feet. "Someone did this, Rebecca."

"Or the apples just decided to be weird again," Shaun says. "It doesn't mean someone's out to get you." Which is rich, coming from the guy that (according to Rebecca) stumbled onto the assassins through conspiracy theories.

"No," Desmond says, and he's absolutely certain of this. "Somebody outside this room took- stole the power from inside the apples. I know it."

"Seriously, Desmond?" Shaun snaps. "You do realize you sound crazy, don't you?"

"It's true."

"Who would do that?" Shaun goes on. "And how? Why?"

"I don't know!" Desmond yells back. He recognizes the anger in his voice but cannot bring himself to care, not even when his outburst startles Shaun into taking a step backward, away from him. "I don't know have any idea what just happened. That's why I'm trying to figure it out!"

"Desmond…" Shaun bites his lip, all traces of his usual flippant sarcasm chased away by Desmond's outburst. He doesn't go on from there, but his meaning is clear. Desmond, calm down, he's saying. Desmond, don't do anything you're going to regret. Desmond, don't.

"You don't understand," Desmond growls. "I've just lost everything important to me. Everything, Shaun! I will do whatever is necessary to get them back."

He turns his back on both Shaun and Rebecca, kicking angrily at the table leg as he passes. For several long minutes he just stands there, staring down at his own arms as if sheer willpower can make them light up again, and undo everything that's happened. He's vaguely aware of whispers behind him, but doesn't bother trying to listen to what the other two are saying. Finally, Desmond hears quiet footsteps, and feels Rebecca's hand on his shoulder.

"You're wrong," she says.

"I'm not," Desmond insists, without turning around. "I know someone stole the power from the apples-"

"That's not what I meant," Rebecca says. "I mean, you're wrong about losing everything. We're still here..." she gestures between herself and Shaun. "And if you're sure that this was caused by someone else, we're going to help you undo what they've done."

Slowly, Desmond turns around to look at them- at Rebecca's worried frown, and Shaun's expression of stubborn (if slightly nervous) agreement. Slowly, the anger starts to drain away, replaced by a sick feeling of shame. It curls up inside his stomach like a wounded animal, and Desmond takes a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down before he answers. "I'm sorry," he says. "I just- I don't-"

Rebecca nods. "It's okay. We'll figure this out. We will."