Chapter Four, The Truth Hurts, Love

Warning: Some swearing is included in this!

A man dressed from head to toe in a white garb leapt from roof to roof, keeping up with the figure in front of him. The night was young with a tint of bright afternoon blue on the far horizon. The two people ran in what looked like the frigid cold weather of Russia. A thick cloud of snow blinded their vision to a certain extent and blanketed the land. Their leather shoes trudged through the snow, slowing down their movements by only a fraction of a second. In the distance, something shimmered a vivid silver, luring them in closer to their target. With one jump, the pure white ground below their target was splattered a glistening red and they were on the move again. Successful, the two assassins grinned at each other and-

Shaun was violently pulled out his sleep by a thick pair of hands gripping his arm. His whole weight was dragged quickly out of the bed and once he managed to open his eyes, he saw nothing. The room was still dark and all he could see were the blurred red numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table.

"Let go of-" before he could finish his sentence, a pair of sweaty hands covered his mouth. He could hear Desmond's muffled shouts, but he too, probably had a hand covering his mouth. Thinking quickly, Shaun elbowed the man to the gut, where he heard him grunt and stumble backwards. With only seconds to react, the historian wound up his fist, struck the man in the nose and knocked him straight to the ground. Blindly, Shaun spun around and flipped on the lights. In front of him, a rather burly man was dragging a flailing, naked Desmond towards the door. But the moment the light turned on, he turned around with a shocked and bewildered expression at the other naked man.

"This was supposed to be an easy job," the man growled in frustration and tossed Desmond aside with ease. He began to make his way over to Shaun with quiet but intimidating steps and Shaun had no choice but to grab the lamp beside him and whack him over the head with it. The glass shattered at impact, instantly knocking the man unconscious. The goon fell to the ground and smacked his head on the coffee table, causing blood to seep out onto the once light blue carpet. Panicking slightly, Shaun hurried over to Desmond and crouched down beside him.

"Are you alright?"

"What the fuck was that?" He shouted, rubbing his bruising side.

"We have to get out of here," Shaun frowned as he stood up and extended a hand to the puzzled man. Inside, Shaun was completely cussing himself out for being such a selfish idiot. How hadn't he known that the Templars had been on the move? Subject sixteen had been wearing down and they were obviously looking for a new test subject to tear apart. But how was he supposed to know that it was Desmond? "What's your name?" Shaun growled as Desmond took his hand and leapt up, crashing into his side.

"You don't fucking remember? Desmond!" Shaun did not like the tension that was radiating off him, but it was understandable. After all, the man had just almost been kidnapped by two large creeps who now lay on the ground, unmoving. Quickly, Shaun gathered their clothes from yesterday and tossed Desmond's to him. Under ten seconds, Shaun was already completely dressed with his glasses on while Desmond was struggling to do up the zipper on his jeans. Such a tiny child, Shaun rolled his eyes as he walked over to him and helped him as fast as he could.

"And your last name too," Shaun snapped and opened the front door. He peaked down the hallways, making sure no one else was waiting for the two to return. Luck was finally on his side as the corridor was empty.

"Why does it matter?"

"Just tell me!"

"... Greene. Desmond Greene."

It didn't sound right. It rang in his mind as false, but he didn't have time to think over it. "Alright, Desmond Greene, I'm going to try and take to somewhere that you'll be safe. Obviously, someone is trying to screw you over here and-"

"Why though? What do you know that I don't?" Desmond shouted, banging his fist into the wall. Shaun cringed. He couldn't tell him the truth; that Abstergo was going to take him down.

***

Desmond's blood boiled as Shaun constantly pried for answers that were completely irrelevant now. He had been on the run ever since he was sixteen and lately, he had been undercover. That part was at least true – he had lived here for three years. Three whole undisturbed years. But this supposedly called 'historian' had probably led the monsters to him. Ever since he had been born, Desmond had been hiding on an Assassin farm, shielded from the evil that lurked outside of their boundaries. But at the vulnerable age of sixteen, he ran from those problems that had arisen in his so called desert sanctuary. He ran and ran until he made his way to the city and began to live his life in secrecy. It was no fun, continuing with a fake name, fake age and fake everything. He could only watch relations progress from a far and never make them himself. Whenever he felt like he was growing too attached to anyone, he ran to another part of the city and started over again.

He had moved to the night time partying section of the city and he had liked it. No one wanted to keep relationships; they wanted things done in one night.

He found himself taking the chance of using his first name but still keeping a false last name. He had felt safe; something he had yearned for year after year. At the age of twenty five, Desmond had found life quite dull and for a second time in his life, he took a risk – taking someone back home with him.

Now, the Templars were onto him and they weren't going to stop. They were both in danger and Desmond knew that they only wanted him; they would probably kill Shaun due to his of unimportant value to them.

His mind was swimming with questions; how had they found him? What were they going to do to him? To Shaun? How could he run now? What name would he have to use? His thoughts were immediately cut short by Shaun rushing over to him.

"Are you alright?" Of course he was. He had just been dragged out of his bed and almost taken capture by an evil company.

"What the fuck was that?" The charade was on – Shaun obviously had no idea what was going on. The way he fought was just a coincidence, nothing similar to the Assassins.

"We have to get out of here," Oh boy, it sure doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Just one slip up had cost him everything. He had been too caught up in the moment last night, simply giving into his craving for any human affection that he hadn't gotten in years. He was pent up, a nuclear bomb ready to explode when provoked. And that's exactly what happened; this man had provoked him and dug himself into the roots of Desmond's desires. He made it so he had to have him. Had to take him back home. Had to expose him for what he really was. He heard the British man ask him his name.

"You don't fucking remember? Desmond, you idiot!" He shouted, feeling his blood stir once again as he took his hand and crashed into him, his balance completely thrown off. He had to steady himself before he could let go of the 'historian'. He watched as he collected their clothes and tossed Desmond his hoodie, t-shirt, boxers and a pair of jeans. Just as Desmond managed to pull on his boxers then his jeans, he saw that the British man was already dressed. A crude remark crossed Desmond's mind but he didn't have time to think anymore of it as Shaun walked over to him, zipped up his fly and did his button. Ignoring the slight tint of pink appearing on his cheeks, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and slipped into his hoodie.

"And your last name," he snapped and Desmond did not like that tone he had used; at all. He watched as Shaun opened the door cautiously and peaked down the hallways.

"Why does it matter?" Desmond grumbled, pulling the hood up over his head.

"Just tell me!"

He couldn't tell him his last name. Already, he had given this man too much information and anymore would possibly have him under Abstergo's greedy hands in the snap of their fingers.

"... Greene. Desmond Greene," he decided to go with the very first last name he had chosen when he arrived in the city. That would have been almost eight years ago. Slowly but surely, Desmond watched as Shaun's facial expression turned sour as the gears in his head were turning furiously. He knew that the man knew something was wrong with that name.

"Alright, Desmond Greene, I'm going to try and take to somewhere that you'll be safe. Obviously, someone is trying to screw you over here and-"

"Why though? What do you know that I don't?" Desmond shouted. If there were judges here for charades, he knew he would have a ten out of ten. But did Shaun really know more than he did?

"Come on," Shaun growled as he already started making his way out the door. Having no other choice, Desmond followed him reluctantly. The two of them made their way to the stairs, taking every step quietly and with precaution. Desmond would watch from behind while Shaun would be the eyes in the front. They finally made their way to the lobby, which was completely void of any burly looking man who might have given them a second glance. Just as Desmond was making his way to the door, Shaun jerked him back.

"What are you, mad? Some of them are probably waiting behind that door!" He whispered, tightening the grip on Desmond's wrist.

"Well, they're probably waiting at the back doors too. We're probably completely surrounded!" Desmond snapped back. He watched as Shaun's eyes trailed off to a red door in the distance, with a sign saying 'exit' glowing on top of their escape. "That'll set off the whole building and-"

"That's a bad thing?" Shaun scowled, finally letting go of Desmond. "It'll wake up everyone in the apartment and they'll all come running down and then they can't get us in front of everyone."

Desmond hated to admit it, but he did have a pretty good point. "... Right. C'mon, let's go then."

Making sure that no one was watching them too closely, they pushed through the door and as Shaun had said, an alarm started to loudly go off inside. Already, Desmond could hear the protests of his neighbours of having to get up at three in the morning. Within minutes, people began to spill out onto the streets and in the distance they heard a fire truck making its way to the building. Looking at each other, Desmond knew that it didn't end here and that they had to keep running. There was no sense of splitting up because well... Desmond needed Shaun. In the five minutes since their abrupt awakening, he had learned more about Shaun then he had all last night –excluding the curve of his spine and the deep tenor of his voice- and yet nothing at all. Shaun knew something Desmond didn't, and vice versa. Desmond wasn't planning on sharing his family history with Shaun, and he expected the same respect from the 'historian'. Whether it was coincidental or not, Desmond was glad to have Shaun around even if it was just for the time being. Just as the fire truck arrived, the two of them bolted into the darkness of the nearby alleys. There was no way in hell that Desmond would get caught and then die at the hand of the Templars.

Gradually, they began to run out of steam. They had been running for what seemed like hours but the sun hadn't even hinted at its arrival in the sky yet. It was still dark and the only light they had was from a nearby lamp post, illuminating their faces a tasteless orange. Bent over with his hands on his knees, Desmond watched as Shaun did the same, both of them trying to collect their breath and sanity.

"Where am I going to go now?" Desmond mumbled as he stood up and stretched, keeping an eye out for any suspicious behaviour. He had put blind trust in this man and the Templars had almost taken him away. Then he put blind trust in him again and they were far from bad guys. He didn't know whether to hate him or love him.

"I'm bringing you... to my... home," Shaun panted, coughing dryly.

"Why should I trust you?" Desmond frowned, keeping his distance from the man. He didn't need a broken rib or arm now, since this was only going to be a momentary stop. Soon, they would have to move again and keep moving.

"Because, who else do you have to trust now?"

With that statement, Desmond remembered how much the truth actually hurt.

A/N: Wow, that was a quick update. With the help of a friend again, I have managed to devolp an actual plot for this story. So, there will be much more ShaunDes to come! It might be a little slower, considering I had done almost ten hours of English homework in the past two days. So, I wrote this at once again, six in the morning. A few things have been changed up and bent to make this work and well, I think I'm going to make a playlist to this. Many thanks to the reviews who make my day!