Chapter 4

9/27/2013

0400

Brooklyn, New York, USA

Juhani sipped a cold cup of coffee as he watched his target sleep beside his wife on the monitor.

He'd been unable to trail the young Mentor too closely – Desmond's two bodyguards were both well trained and at least one of them shadowed him at all times while the other stayed beside him. He'd managed to plant two cameras in their apartment, and it was that video feed he watched, stifling a yawn.

The past two days, he'd observed Desmond, his bodyguards and the baby move between what he presumed were the Assassin's offices – located in a nondescript office building – and his own apartment which he was in the process of unpacking. His wife generally arrived home around dinnertime, and they'd usually spend the rest of the night relaxing in each others' company.

Juhani frowned. He wondered why England had insisted he keep such a close watch on Desmond and his family...they seemed like any other family, really. He hadn't been given many details about them, other than Desmond was the current leader of the Assassins with some Precursor-related abilities.

England had told him she was very curious to know if Desmond's son also had the same potential.

The sound of crying over the mic brought his attention back to the apartment. He saw Desmond rouse, padding over to the crib and picking up his son, rocking him gently as he crept out of the bedroom on silent feet. Juhani watched as Desmond deftly changed his son and warmed a bottle for him. The young father seated himself on the couch, his son cradled in one arm, and the baby's cries ceased as he eagerly drank his breakfast.

He saw Desmond yawn, and unconsciously, he did the same, cursing himself.

Juhani turned away from the monitors, preparing to take a cat nap, when he heard another voice speak in the apartment. The voice was clearly a man's, speaking Arabic. The Finnish Templar turned back to the monitor.

His eyes widened as he looked at the monitor. In the middle of Desmond's living room stood an old man, clad in traditional Assassin robes. It was he who was speaking, and Juhani muttered an angry curse. He didn't speak Arabic, so he had no idea what they were saying as Desmond responded in the same tongue.

He hadn't heard the strange old man enter the apartment, and he frowned. It was as if he'd appeared from nowhere, and Juhani watched as the baby finished the bottle. Desmond burped the baby gently, and the old man smiled as he took the child, murmuring what was obviously an endearment. The baby in his arms cooed and gurgled, his golden eyes alight, and it was then that he noticed the old man's eyes were the exact same shade.

Desmond stepped out of the room, and through the mic Juhani heard the shower start. The old man was pacing the living room now, rocking the baby in his arms and murmuring softly in Arabic.

Juhani frowned, flipping through the file he'd been given on Desmond, locating a digitized image taken from the Animus of one of Desmond's ancestors, one Altair Ibn La'Ahad. He placed the image from the Animus beside the video feed of the strange old man, and his eyes widened.

Though Altair appeared to be at least in his eighties now, the images were an exact match. He sat back, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. Altair couldn't be standing in the living room of Desmond's apartment in 2013 rocking what must be his great – with several dozen greats' tacked on for good measure – grandson.

Juhani's attention was temporarily drawn from the spectacle his brain told him couldn't be happening as he heard quiet laughter from inside the shower. His glance went to the bed, which was now empty, and he noticed Lucy's form beside Desmond's in the steamed glass of the shower door. Juhani deliberately muted the mic from the bedroom camera and resolutely focused his eyes on the living room once more.

Altair now looked out the window, the baby in his arms. Absently, he still rocked the boy, his golden eyes on the pre-dawn light that was now making its way into the sky. When the sun was fully up, Desmond and Lucy emerged from the bedroom, Lucy obviously dressed for work.

Desmond was wearing his usual jeans and hoodie – Juhani wondered for a minute if he even owned any other clothing – and as he watched, Desmond bowed his head to Altair, murmuring what was obvious a thanks. The ancient Assassin said something in Arabic, his tone teasing, and Juhani watched Desmond and Lucy both blush before he handed back the sleeping baby. Juhani kept his eyes glued to the video feed, and as he watched, Altair disappeared as if he'd never been.

Juhani blinked and stared, but neither Desmond nor Lucy seemed disturbed by the fact Altair's ghost had apparently babysat their son for half an hour and then disappeared. It was clear to Juhani this was a regular occurrence.

He watched as Desmond packed a bag for the baby, kissing Lucy as she rushed out the door. As Desmond met his bodyguards at their usual time, and began to make for the subway, Juhani picked up his cell phone, punching in a number.

It was clear there was more going on here than he'd been told, and he wasn't about to antagonize the Mentor of the Assassins, his bodyguards and who knows how many not-quite-dead Master Assassin ancestors Desmond had in his bloodline.

England's voice was tired as she answered the phone. "Juhani, do you have any idea what TIME it is?"

Juhani growled.

"Yes. When did it occur to you to tell me about the fact Miles somehow has a guy who's been dead 800 years walking around his apartment?"

There was a stunned silence, and then England snarled, "What?!"

Desmond sat at his desk, drumming his fingers on the desk as he read through the latest e-mail from the team in London. It was clear from their reports that the Templars were starting to take notice of the fact the Assassins had been after the Pieces of Eden, mounting offensives to stop them and posting the usual anti-Assassin rhetoric, calling them terrorists and a cult. Desmond sighed, leaning back in his chair.

The team had gotten the Piece and gotten out, but it was a close scrape. There had been more and more of those lately, and Desmond knew it was only a matter of time before someone died.

He wasn't prepared to deal with that again just yet. He typed a quick response, sending the team underground to wait out the media frenzy for a few weeks.

Lucas had been good to his word, sending corresponding reports from within Abstergo that contained site information for the Pieces he'd been able to glean information about.

There was a knock on his open door, and Desmond looked up to see his father standing there, his face like a thundercloud.

Desmond had years of practice reading his father's most minute expressions, and said calmly, "Who told you?"

William's voice was choked with anger.

"You're working with a Templar?" Desmond noticed the veins in his father's forehead standing out.

"I wouldn't say working with. More like, he's providing us information." Desmond shrugged.

William snarled.

"Desmond, when I turned over the mantle to you, I expected you to take care of the Assassins...instead you're sending them to sites to hunt for Pieces of Eden based on the word of a Templar!"

Desmond frowned. "Are you done? I've got work to finish."

William slammed his hand down on Desmond's desk. "How can you be so nonchalant about all this?" he demanded, and Desmond eyed him, his gaze going hard.

"In case you haven't noticed Dad, I'm not. I'm far fucking from it. We've got to get the last few Pieces we need, and unfortunately we need parts from several different kinds to build the defense grid – the permanent one."

William stared at Desmond, his gray eyes narrow.

"Cut off the Templar, Desmond. We don't need to be working with their kind."

Desmond shook his head.

"What would you have me do then, Dad? We have to have information. The Templars records of the Pieces locations are a lot more complete than our own, despite the map being in my head...the Templars have access to building plans and security codes. The map doesn't do us much good if we don't know what we're getting into!"

William threw up his hands. "Send someone to infiltrate the Templars!"

Desmond stood up, his gaze angry now, and he heard the training area outside the office go quiet. "Send someone to infiltrate...you mean like Clay, or Lucy?"

Desmond's golden gaze narrowed, and he hissed, "You abandoned both of them to the Templars, and when Clay realized he'd never escape, he killed himself...when Lucy realized she couldn't escape, she almost did the same goddamn thing!"

William looked as if Desmond had punched him, his eyes wide.

"That...that wasn't what I meant..."

Desmond snarled.

"That's a fucking lie, and you know it. It's exactly what you meant, because you believe in sacrificing for the greater good, and who the hell cares if the one sacrificed is your own blood?"

William stood back, staring at Desmond, his face twisting with rage. "You think I left you there? You think I didn't send anyone after you? When you got captured by Abstergo the first time, I sent our best teams! They died trying to save you!"

Desmond growled.

"They died, Dad. But you didn't do a goddamned thing. I didn't see you risking your ass. The only reason I'm not out there doing those missions myself is because everyone around me has decided I'm too important to risk. I never said I agreed with them, but Ezio and Altair can be very effective bullies since they reside in my head, and all."

The silence was profound as Desmond rose to his full height.

"Get out of my office Dad. When you've pulled your head out of your ass, we'll talk, but right now I'm too pissed off to even look at you."

William stared at Desmond a moment longer, then turned and left.

Desmond sat down after his father left, his head in his hands. Ezio's familiar scent wafted over him as the Italian Assassin appeared, seating himself on the edge of Desmond's desk.

"It is a difficult thing to have one's beliefs challenged, Desmond. Have patience with your father. He has good reasons to hate the Templars."

Desmond looked up at Ezio.

"I know Ezio...but if we're going to survive..if we're all going to survive, that cycle has to stop sometime." Ezio nodded. "I agree, Desmond. But old prejudices are hard to break...on both sides."

Desmond sighed.

"I don't want to work with them, but we don't have enough Assassins left. If we don't work with them for the time being, we're blind and deaf. My father never bothered to establish any kind of a reputable front for us...we've always been underground...we work in the darkness to serve the light."

Desmond frowned.

"I think someday soon, we'll have to learn to work in the light if we want to survive."

A/N: The plot thickens, and the balance of power becomes apparent. Fixed Juhani's nationality, cuz I apparently can't read...thanks for the catch Verpy!