Well, firstly, my apologies for not posting in a while. The couple of weeks after school ends gets kinda hectic for me, so I'm sorry that you haven't seen a new chapter recently. However, since I've had the whole story typed out before I started posting it here, at least you don't have to wait for my never-ceasing writer's blocks to break up. :)

I'll try and post at least once a week from now on, it was unfair to you guys for you to wait that long.

So, here's a new chapter, sorry again for the wait!

Chapter Four:

The Animus

Lunch proved to be mildly interesting; Desmond had to explain to Altaïr what a sandwich was, though once Altaïr got the concept, the only question he asked was how they managed to cut the meat so thin. After lunch, Desmond taught Altaïr how to play Go Fish, War, and Solitaire, using the pack of cards Lucy had left on his desk. They played War for an undeterminable amount of time, before getting bored and talking about random subjects. Altaïr and Desmond swapped stories of their childhoods: Altaïr told a couple funny stories about his antics as a young Assassin, while Desmond told him about life at the Assassin's compound where he grew up. Desmond did most of the talking; Altaïr's stories were mostly short and to the point, and he preferred to stay quiet and listen to Desmond instead. As they talked, Desmond began to realize how mind-numbingly boring his stay at Abstergo would be if it weren't for the Animus.

Thankfully, Desmond and Altaïr didn't have to put up with Vidic for the rest of the day; Altaïr had only been around the man for five minutes and already didn't like him. Lucy popped by every so often to check on them, mostly making sure that they weren't killing each other or (at Vidic's urging) asking if she could get anything for them, with the exception of a lock pick or a key to Abstergo. Other than that, it was a pretty uneventful day.

Until dinner, of course.

"Alright!" Desmond said, grinning as he saw Lucy bring in two disposable bowls of spaghetti, "My favorite!"

Altaïr just stared.

"Again, there's no fork for Altaïr, because Vidic is paranoid," Lucy sighed, setting the bowls on Desmond's desk, "But I managed to get lots of extra bread and a heap of napkins. I hope it helps some." She disappeared from the doorway and came bearing two good-sized loaves of French bread and enough napkins to stuff a sofa. "They're also arranging a room for Altaïr, so you two won't have to share a room for much longer. It might even be settled by tonight." She scowled and added, "Personally, I'd prefer that I didn't have to run between two rooms to deliver everything that Vidic decides is important, but my opinion doesn't count anyway."

Desmond stared at the bread. "How exactly is bread going to help Altaïr eat?"

"I don't know," Lucy snapped, irritated, "Why don't you figure out something?"

"Jeez, sorry," Desmond said, surprised.

Lucy took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Sorry," she muttered, "Vidic."

"Oh," Desmond said, shaking his head, "I honestly don't understand how you can work with the guy."

"To tell the truth," Lucy said as she turned to walk out the door, "Neither do I."

Desmond smiled as he watched Lucy leave, and passed a bowl of spaghetti to Altaïr. The Assassin stared at the bowl as if it were a lizard corpse. "What is that?"

"Spaghetti," Desmond said, passing Altaïr some of the napkins and a loaf of bread. "Good luck eating it."

Unsurprisingly, Altaïr was puzzled by this new food. He tore off a hunk of the loaf, and experimented with trying to pick up the slippery noodles. It took him a couple of tries, but he finally managed to get a mouthful. He seemed pleased with the taste, and continued using the bread as a makeshift utensil, alternating between pinching the noodles between chunks of the crust and mopping up the sauce with the soft interior.

Desmond couldn't help but watch Altaïr eat; it was funny to see this deadly, serious Assassin get his hands dirty eating spaghetti. Before long, he had abandoned his fork and adopted Altaïr's strategy instead.

When Lucy arrived at Desmond's room to pick up the dishes (Vidic had decided he didn't trust the janitor with that task anymore), she found Altaïr and Desmond mopping up the last of their spaghetti sauce with the last of the loaves of bread, their hands and faces smeared with sauce. They seemed to have been having a great time; both of them looked more relaxed and happier than she'd seen in quite a while. "What in the world did you do?" she asked Desmond, a bewildered look on her face.

Desmond shrugged, wiping his face with a napkin. "Eat dinner."

"I realize that, idiot," Lucy said scornfully, shaking her head as she picked up the bowls and Desmond's fork, "I was referring to how you got Altaïr to smile."

Desmond hadn't noticed when they ate, but Altaïr had let slip a small smile; possibly the first one in a long time.

As would be expected of a master Assassin, Altaïr was an extremely light sleeper. Desmond quickly learned that Altaïr's death-like sleep the night before was probably due to extreme exhaustion; now, Desmond could hardly shift on the bed without Altaïr waking up. Desmond could quit worrying about someone tranquilizing Altaïr while they slept, because Altaïr would simply wake up, kick some ass, and then fall back asleep as if nothing had happened.

Desmond snuck off to take a shower while Altaïr dozed in the corner; he didn't want to spend the entire morning explaining how a shower worked, and wanted to get clean before breakfast. Altaïr was still asleep (or pretending to be asleep, you never could really tell) when Desmond came out of the shower, so he sat down on his bed and thought about the possibilities of the day ahead.

Lucy came in with breakfast about an hour after Desmond got out of the shower. Altaïr woke with a start the moment the door slid open, but relaxed when he saw it was only Lucy. She set the bowls of cereal down on the table (along with a few pieces of fruit for Altaïr), and left without saying a word. She seemed worried this morning; about what, Desmond couldn't figure out.

Altaïr said nothing as they ate; he seemed to be more nervous about today than Desmond was.

Desmond frowned. Something wasn't right.

Things only got worse once Vidic showed up at the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Miles, Altaïr," he said, taking a swig of coffee from his mug, "I need you in the Animus's chamber ASAP."

Desmond did a quick translation for Altaïr, and his ancestor paled slightly. The two reluctantly stepped out of Desmond's room, Altaïr looking like he would desperately like to hide back in Desmond's room.

Lucy was already at the controls of the Animus, rapidly typing in code. She glanced up from her work, and looked a little bit upset. "Dr. Vidic, are you sure—"

"Yes, Lucy, I am," Vidic said from his desk, glaring at her over the screen of his laptop.

Lucy frowned. "Desmond… I need you to keep Altaïr calm while he's on the Animus."

Desmond was startled, and it showed. "What? No way. You can't put Altaïr on that thing. He'd have a heart attack."

Vidic glanced up from his laptop, annoyed. "This can be done with or without your cooperation, Mr. Miles."

"Oh yeah? And what'll you do with Altaïr then? He's not just going to sit obediently while you pump him full of tranquilizers." Desmond said, scowling, "He's not exactly big on technology either, so it'll be great to watch you try and convince him on the Animus."

"We can argue about it all day, Mr. Miles," Vidic snapped, "Or we can get it over with right now. With luck, we'll find what we're looking for immediately."

Lucy glanced at Altaïr, then at Vidic. "Um, it'll be a little difficult to sync to a memory if it hasn't been created yet, Dr. Vidic—"

"Put Altaïr on the Animus. Now." Vidic commanded, glaring first at Lucy, then at Desmond.

Desmond gulped. This wasn't going to be pretty. "Altaïr?"

The Assassin turned his head to Desmond, and nodded.

"I need you to lie down on the Animus for me." Desmond said quietly, gesturing to the Animus.

Altaïr stared at it for a second, then glanced back at Desmond. He shifted back to the Animus for a long moment, before turning to look at Desmond again.

"Look," Desmond said cautiously, putting his hands in his pockets, "I need you to go out on a limb and trust me, alright? I promise it won't hurt you."

Altaïr grimaced. He gave Desmond one last glance, before slowly climbing onto the Animus's table.

From his desk, Vidic smiled. Things were going just as planned.

Altaïr glanced around nervously, his head moving in small, jerky motions. He almost had a seizure when the Animus's view screen slid over his head, and probably would've ripped it off had Desmond not been there to calm him down. He stared at Desmond pleadingly through the viewscreen. Desmond could already see that this was not going to end well; the Animus's holoscreen was the least alarming thing that could happen on the Animus, and Altaïr had already reacted badly.

Lucy shifted uneasily, and she glanced over to Desmond. "Make sure you keep him calm. There's no telling what could happen if he gets too excited."

Desmond didn't think "excited" was the word for what Altaïr was feeling right now, but he wasn't in the mood to correct Lucy. "Deep breaths, Altaïr," he told the Assassin, who was as tense as if he had just walked unarmored into a room full of Crusaders.

Altaïr shut his eyes, willing it to all be over soon.

And so, it began.

Altaïr trembled as his vision clouded, and was slowly replaced by a distant memory. He did not understand what was going on, but definitely did not like it.

Desmond spoke soothingly to his ancestor, trying to keep him from flipping totally over the edge. Altaïr was not handling this well.

Lucy was watching her control screen anxiously, and was therefore the first to know when the synchronization began to fail. She typed in a code frantically as she watched his heart rate spike, then said, "We have to take Altaïr out, Dr. Vidic, his subconscious is rejecting the Animus—"

"So did Desmond, on his first time through," Vidic said calmly, taking a sip of coffee, "And Altaïr will be no different."

The warning lights on Lucy's control screen were flashing urgently. "If we don't, he could die." She glanced up at Desmond and hissed, "Calm him down!"

"I'm trying!" Desmond snapped back, his reply sandwiched between two Arabic phrases. "He's freaking out!"

"No shit!" Lucy muttered. Louder, so Vidic could hear, she said "I'm aborting the synchronization."

"No!" Vidic said suddenly, leaping from his chair.

"So we should let him die?!" Lucy said over her shoulder as she began typing in the abortion code.

Altaïr, however, had had enough. With his eyes squeezed shut as tight as they could go and his face grimacing, he reached over his shoulder and began to pull the holoscreen away from over his head. The Animus resisted, but the joint began to spark and groan as the warning lights flashed faster.

That was the final straw, for Lucy. She finished the abortion code, and the holoscreen retreated back into the Animus. Altaïr scrambled off of it, and cowered behind a column.

"Dammit, Lucy!" Vidic snapped, stalking over to the Animus, "You should've continued the synchronization, everything was going normally—"

"Until the warning lights came on," Lucy retorted, "And Altaïr's heart rate spiked to over a hundred! Had we kept him on there any longer, he would've died!"

While Lucy and Vidic argued, Desmond crept back behind the column to find Altaïr. The Assassin was curled up, knees to his chest, hands on his head, shaking uncontrollably. When he heard Desmond, Altaïr's head snapped up, his face contorted into an expression of terror. "N-never make me go on that—that thing—again," he whispered, his voice shaking.

"Never again," Desmond said quietly. He helped Altaïr to his feet, and the two retreated to Desmond's room to wait out the storm.