Chapter 6: Cabin Fever

The Temple stirred. It was not Those Who Came Before who gave it life, rather, it was its own entity that complied with their wishes. The structure made of steel and stone was organic in nature- it breathed with the pulsing of the earth.

The Precursor's earth- one that resonated within each one of their bodies; They were of the earth as much as the earth was of Them.

That was why, perhaps, that the Temple and Their artifacts had been so timelessly infallible. Forged from the fire and steel that had come as ore in the ground, no mortal could truly control them, much less destroy them.

The Temple had been dormant since the age of the Precursors; they were unable to activate it in time for their own demise. Still, like the humans who had spawned from their zeal, they were persistent. They had the power to bend time and space around them, so they did. In meticulous calculation and in enough time for the humans to figure the puzzle out, they had named a chosen one and a date that would serve as their deadline. There could be no other way.

"Desmond Miles lives," the Temple whispered in an eternal unrest. This was not the prophecy Those Who Came Before had foreseen. Juno was free- Minerva and Jupiter could feel her energy intertwining with every system man had created; she became one even with those that they hadn't. She'd reach the Core soon enough.

They had created mankind, not to control them, but to observe them. The universe was infinite in possibilities that were theirs for manipulating. Human life was futile, it was pointless- yet Desmond Miles lived. Through forces that would kill even the Precursors themselves, put an end not only to human civilization, but all civilization, a mortal being survived. He defied. He would rise from the proverbial ashes and live.

Desmond dreamt. His entire being was exhausted, yet he still woke with silhouettes of dreams on his eyelids. He never remembered them- only that they resonated with a muted glow of blue among the black of sleep.

The blue should have been comforting- blue was the aura of an ally, the color of something that was cool and flowed to carry anything harmful away. It was familiar- the color of Lucy's eyes, the remnant color of the Animus core, Clay as he gave up the last part of himself to save Desmond- the blue that encompassed the Temple's power and that heated to white to destroy him- absorbing the sun and incinerating him with it.

Desmond couldn't remember his dreams, but they made him afraid; an uneasy knot of doubt made itself apparent every time he woke. Sometimes, he woke with tears on his face, streams of them rolling into each other to cover his cheeks. Perhaps the most disconcerting thing was that he didn't know why he wept. Was it from pain, or the memories that such vague dreams left him to relive?

Desmond looked down at his arm. The blackened skin was gone- the healing tissue now an angry red. It seemed to hurt more as it healed. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

The monotony of being bedridden had dulled Desmond's awareness. Though he was now conscious for longer periods of time, and becoming even more lucid as his father and the others came to watch over him and keep him company, he was still numb to the passing of time. The days passed in a blur, the sun rising and setting through his window, as it always had, and now would continue to. Sounds of life blurred into each other as the others moved about; they set up equipment, cleaned the settled dust that seemed to cling to everything. Desmond wondered how old the cabin was, and how long it had been since someone had lived there.

After a few days, or weeks, or handful of times the sun rose and set in its unstoppable rhythm, Desmond had endeavored to get on his feet, the anxiety that welled within him near to torturing him as much as the impatience that came with being bed-ridden.

He remembered the Templar attack, in the vague haze that being in such pain would allow, and how he had crumpled to the floor without so much as being able to take a step.

Desmond grit his teeth in the memory. He looked down to his feet as he sat on the side of his bed, wanting to curse how much he was shaking. His burned arm had been wrapped and put in a sling, and his left was supporting him as he sat. William stood next to him, anxiously holding out his hand for support. Desmond pointedly looked away, taking a deep breath and shifting his weight so that he stood.

As Desmond lifted himself to his feet, he trembled. His legs threatened to buckle underneath him, and as Desmond threw an arm out to steady himself, William reacted, grabbing Desmond's shoulders. As much as Desmond hated the weakness that overtook him, he leaned into the support.

William gripped Desmond tighter as he felt his son's weight in his arms. Muscle atrophy. Rebecca had mentioned it as one of the side effects of being in the older models of the Animus for too long. The same condition applied to medical patients who were confined to bed- otherwordly injury or no, Desmond was no different. He couldn't support his own body yet.

The prospect broke William's heart. He was beginning to wonder how many pieces it could be shattered into before it wasn't there anymore.

"If you want to see the others, I can..."

"No. If I'm getting out of this room it'll be by myself, or not at all," Desmond mumbled. His words were mostly obscured by his frustration. His breathing was heavy, the small amount of movement already tiring him. William complied, helping Desmond back to where he sat on the edge of the bed. He decided to ignore the tears that had formed in Desmond's eyes- they were blank underneath as William helped Desmond to lay, propped against a pile of pillows. Desmond's gaze wandered to the window across the room. Mid-morning light poured through the layer of clouds that had brought snow since the last night. However long it had been, Winter was still strong.

Desmond shivered as William helped him pull blankets to cover him again. The cabin was full of drafts, and despite fires going and space heaters running, Desmond felt hyperaware to the cold- and any other sensation as it brushed against his skin, or reverberated in his ears, or met his eyes. It was as if he had been born again, and everything felt more extreme than it actually was. Perhaps whatever burned him was going to heal him, as well.

Apart from the cold, Desmond felt drained from even such a small amount of exertion. William sat at his son's side, as quiet as ever, the look behind his eyes conveying a war being fought. It seemed the notion was ingrained inside Desmond, as well. He squinted, trying to will away the fog that would inevitably turn into ghosts. This is what I have become. Desmond shut his eyes, willing away his waking mind for the numbing effect of sleep, and hoped that his un-graspable dreams wouldn't turn into nightmares.

William looked away as Desmond fell asleep. If they were to do anything, if Desmond was going to fight again, it would take time and patience- both were things they were all short of. They had been given a date for the end of the world before. Now, a different end beheld an ambiguous time and place. There was no way to know when or where or what to do. William closed the curtains in Desmond's room. He was afraid- afraid that Desmond would fail, that they all would fail, but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that if Desmond was strong enough to survive through all he had been through, he was strong enough to bear what lay ahead of him.

Rebecca had kept herself busy, constantly setting up equipment, checking radio waves, furthering the ancestor's understanding of the English language and the 21st century, looking after Desmond; she constantly moved, more anxious than afraid of what would happen if she didn't. Their flight from the city was still as fresh and raw as it had been that night. It wasn't until Shaun forced her to take a break, sleep, and rest that she was able to stew in her own thoughts. Rebecca hated it. She sat, curled in a chair, holding a hot cup of tea, when Shaun came to sit beside her.

"Hey." The tenderness of Shaun's voice surprised her. It didn't seem common for the man to be anything but sarcastic.

Shaun, in turn, couldn't think of much else that wouldn't be a sarcastic remark about their situation.

"Are you doing alright?" Rebecca looked up.

"I'm fine."

"Like hell you are."

"Excuse me?"

"You've been working yourself to exhaustion, and have hardly said a word since we've got here. And that alone, I might add, is reason for concern enough." Rebecca sighed.

"Do you ever wonder if we're really, you know, truly doing the right thing? Killing people isn't exactly morally looked upon as good."

"Rebecca, I..."

"I know the horse has been beaten to death on his subject, but..."

"You had to kill someone during your mission with Connor," Shaun finished.

"They were about to catch our trail. Connor was about to be ambushed, and I couldn't go after him without being seen, so I..." Shaun grimaced in sympathy.

"We are assassins. It's kind of part of the job description."

"He had a family, Shaun. Templar or not, he was a human being whose life I took from him. What gives me that right?"

"Nothing. But it was necessary to save not only Connor's life, but ours as well."

"That's what we keep telling ourselves, but does it really hold any bearing?" Rebecca put her tea down, her voice anxiety-laden. Shaun was at a loss.

"I think it's the fact that you feel guilt that provides any consolation, if any can be given." Shaun rubbed the back of his neck.

"I just keep thinking about Those Who Came Before, and how Juno's threat takes away the labels of 'Assassin' and 'Templar' and strips us down to all being human. It's futile to kill each other when we should be trying to fight against Them."

"The Templars have always been manipulative bastards. Their god-complex almost reaches that of the Precursors. They think they have a chance at bargaining," Shaun scoffed.

He looked toward the kitchen, where Ezio stood, and was apparently trying to find Yusuf's favorite kind of tea-or, the closest thing to it, hundreds of years in the future. Shaun could have sworn the Italian hadn't left the man's side since they had settled in. He chuckled.

"Well, despite the futility of human existence, I really can admire the ancestors."

"Why is that?" Rebecca questioned.

"They care for their friends, whether or not they are able to figure out how to boil water." Shaun smirked, his face softening as he put a hand on Rebecca's shoulder, before walking over to aid the Mentor who was being perplexed by the modern-day stove. Rebecca smiled at how Ezio's furrowed expression lightened as Shaun offered his help. They were slowly beginning to trust one another. The thought was heartwarming.

"You need to turn the stove on, like this." One of the burners flared to life as Shaun turned the dial. Thank god the gas and electricity had still worked. They didn't know how much longer it would last; they figured it was a temporary dwelling, anyway. Ezio jumped back in his surprise at the stove.

"I swear, your technology is that of gods." Shaun had to cover a snort at the exaggeration. "I wish. Then we wouldn't be in this dire straits of a situation." Shaun leaned on the counter. When Ezio made no attempt at conversation, Shaun sighed.

"So, how's Yusuf? The past week has kept me too busy to keep tabs on everyone."

"Restless, but healing- or so I hope." Shaun nodded in agreement. They were lucky that all the collective suffered was Yusuf's injured knee and Connor's black eye. It disconcerted him. If Abstergo was so focused on finding them, or more probably Desmond, they could have taken all of them within a moment's notice.

The teapot howled as the water boiled.

"Alright, it's ready. What kind of tea did you pick?" Shaun picked up the teapot, walking to find a mug in one of the cabinets.

"Chai- the ingredients all seem like things Yusuf would like." Ezio put the tea in the mug Shaun handed him. "Thank you, Shaun." Ezio nodded to him as he walked out of the kitchen, heading to the room that had been designated to the two of them.

"I brought you tea." Ezio walked through the doorway, walking toward the bed where Yusuf lay. The man grunted, rousing from a half-doze with his eyes wandering until they met the Mentor's.

"It sure smells wonderful." Yusuf sat up, wincing as the movement sent stiff tendrils of pain through his injured leg. They had been icing it on and off, yet some of the swelling still hadn't gone down.

"How are you feeling?" Ezio handed Yusuf the mug, the latter finding the warmth pleasing to both his fingers and his belly as he sipped the hot liquid.

"I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"Deal with injury and age as if you were still a young man." Ezio scoffed.

"Hardly- this cold makes me move about as if I'm one of these floorboards." Ezio tapped his foot.

"I don't think floorboards move by their own volition, Ezio."

"That wasn't the point." Ezio rested his chin on his palm, feigning an exasperated expression. Yusuf smirked. A few moments passed, when Yusuf's face fell.

"Ezio, I..." The thought had been eating away at him since he'd arrived in this foreign time and place- even the mentor's prior reassurances did nothing for his conscience. "Before, when I asked about Sofia, you simply said that 'she was saved.' The last thing I remember of that evening is the Byzantines..." Yusuf paused, the memory bringing unwanted pain and fear. "The Byzantines had outnumbered us, and before I could get to them all-" Yusuf remembered the scar that had appeared on his back upon his traversing time and space- it matched the Templar's still too-familiar blade. The thought sent a phantom ache through his spine.

"Yusuf," Ezio interrupted his thoughts.

"They took her, Ezio." Yusuf was surprised at the tears that had formed in his eyes. "Before I could kill the last one, they had taken my life and hers from my grasp. I failed you, brother." Yusuf broke he and Ezio's eye contact, looking down.

"Yusuf, listen to me. Sofia was saved. I was able to find her, and free her from her captors before any harm came to pass. That chance would not have been given, had it not been for you." Ezio reached forward, grabbing Yusuf's shoulder. Sometimes, he had to reassure himself that his friend was still in front of him, and that it wasn't some sick game being played by the Apple.

"You gave your life so that you could fulfill my wish to keep Sofia safe. Never would that be marked a failure." Yusuf raised his eyebrows, touched by the sincerity in Ezio's voice. He cleared his throat.

"You and Sofia made it out of Istanbul safely, then?"

"We did." Ezio's face fell, however as he remembered where his journey had led him to last. So much for giving up the fighting. Did Sofia search for him, did she know he was gone, or where he had gone? Looking outside to the thick blankets of snow, he missed how the setting Constantinople sun had cast such a warm glow on Sofia's face, her smile radiating as much as the Turkish Summer did.

"Were you, you know..." Yusuf gestured, attempting to ask a question without actually asking it.

"What?"

"When you ended up here, were you dying directly beforehand?" Ezio sat back in his chair, bewildered by the question.

"A charming question, but no. I was in Altair's library. The Apple of Eden allowed me to speak to Desmond Miles, and then the next thing I knew, I was in the Temple with the man himself and Altair."

"It's strange that the last thing I, Malik, and Altair remember our deaths, while you and Connor were still alive, and pulled here." Yusuf's face furrowed in his confusion.

"I do not know, any more than you do, Brother." Ezio sighed. Yusuf shrugged his shoulders, fidgeting as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

"How much longer until I can move around like the fit young man I was a week and a few hundred years ago?"

"You sound like a child- and you call me impatient."

"It's called cabin fever." Rebecca's voice sounded from the door. Ezio turned, Yusuf looked up to meet her eyes. "You're restless. Bill's gone out on a supply run, hopefully he can find something to help you move around better, Yusuf." Rebecca leaned on the doorframe, offering a comforting smile."I was about to check on Desmond, do you two need anything?"

"Is it safe for him to venture so far if the Templars are on our trail?" Ezio questioned.

"Probably not," Rebecca agreed, "but we can only survive on stale canned food for so long, and besides, were short on other necessary supplies as well."

"Is there any way Ezio and I could play a game of chess? Small talk was never his forte." Yusuf changed the subject, pointing at Ezio with his thumb.

"You seem to be forgetting my tales of Firenze, Yusuf." Yusuf snorted at Ezio's retort. Rebecca chuckled.

"There has to be a chessboard in this house somewhere. I'll scout the place."

William sighed as he broke past the tree line, the forest now behind him. Thank whoever abandoned that cabin for leaving their car. William had found the vehicle in an old garage near the cabin, and by some miracle was able to get it running again. The van would have been far too conspicuous.

The deep breath William took was less in exasperation and more in trying to quell the fear that had been rising as bile in his throat. It had been a week, yet it was as if he could feel the Templar's eyes on them at every moment. Venturing out into the general populace was dangerous, but they needed supplies. In lieu of the equipment they no longer had, they had to risk cutting communication between one another if they separated. It drove William mad.

He stopped at a Wal-Mart just outside of Manhattan, the parking lot desolate with the newly falling snow. The stuff didn't seem to stop. William's watch read 1:00am- hopefully it was a suitable hour for any possible Templar patrols to be out of range. William grit his teeth. It was never so simple.

It was a strange feeling, walking along aisles, finding groceries- when he and the others were facing powers that were above anyone's comprehension. If Juno was going to take over the world, then who was to say that she wasn't following their every move? Did she know Desmond was still alive? Was it a part of her plan in the first place? William turned a corner, ducking his head so that his baseball cap hid his eyes as another night owl-store goer passed him.

Was it so surprising that they escaped the grasp of the Templars? Perhaps they were left in the dark after their satellite project failed. No. William discredited the idea- the Templars couldn't have tracked them had they not had the most capable means.

The hair on the back of William's neck stood on end. Until they formed some sort of protection for themselves, whether it be with help, or their own ability to build foundations, they were vulnerable. Anywhere outside the middle of nowhere could have been giving the Templars a chance to attack them. They wanted Desmond so much, then they'd find him- sooner, or later. For all of their sakes, William hoped it would be later, if not at all.

He'd wanted to stay in the city- where carefully formed stealth missions would help them scope out the Templar offense, and give them a better chance of finding out what they were dealing with. It seemed, however that the assassins would work in the dark, whether they wanted to or not.

William sighed as he gathered the supplies and put them in the back of his car-they'd need help. Their radio silence would have to be broken if they were to proceed.

Desmond squinted as he stared at his toes. Beneath the blankets he was covered in, he could feel them curling, uncurling, and repeating the process over and over again. He told himself that if he could do that, then he could work up to his feet, then his legs, and then maybe he could finally move as if he weren't a newborn deer.

Desmond looked up as the door opened, expecting to see Shaun- Rebecca had left a few minutes prior. He was caught off guard when Yusuf stood in the door frame.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello isn't the appropriate greeting?" Yusuf shrugged, endeavoring to make his way to Desmond's side. Desmond felt the urge to laugh as the Master Assassin before him hopped on one foot to reach him. Yusuf sighed in relief as he reached the chair next to Desmond's bed, clutching his thigh, right above his knee.

"How's your knee?" Desmond asked. He swallowed a lump in his throat. The memory of seeing the man in front of him dead-Ezio seeing the man, dead- hadn't left him. He was but a spectator. The mental reassurance did little.

"Infallibly still injured."

"You didn't have to come to watch me, the others have had it covered." Yusuf was clearly in pain, and it twisted something inside Desmond's stomach that he'd caused it. Yusuf scoffed.

"Dela fell asleep, and I got bored. Besides, Rebecca needed some sleep, and Shaun seemed wrapped up in whatever he was doing."

"Thank you, I guess." Desmond smirked. Yusuf shrugged again.

"I figured I'm the most mobile of the two of us, so I should do something about it."

"Your entrance was so full of grace." Desmond could see why Ezio had grown so fond of the Turkish Assassin. Yusuf's smile made him want to do the same.

Despite Yusuf's optimism, Desmond still felt the pull of guilt- all of the ancestors, along with Yusuf and Malik were away from home. Those Who Came Before were responsible, they had to be, somehow, and some way- by proxy it all was his fault, too.

"You must miss home," Desmond said, changing the subject. Yusuf looked away for a moment.

"I do- and knowing that I'm not only an ocean away, but centuries away, it makes the yearning even more prominent. Still, I have fellow Brothers to fight and search alongside." Yusuf stretched his arms to either side of him. "When I consider that, the thing I miss the most about home is the warmth; no man is fit to bear this cold." Yusuf feigned a shiver. Desmond laughed.

"Welcome to New York, where it rains and snows and it's all around just fucking cold. Being this far north will do that." This time, it was Yusuf who chuckled.

"And others wonder why I never wanted to leave Istanbul. So much cold not only chills the body, but the soul, as well." Desmond smiled, a sad nostalgia coming over his expression.

"Enough about my home, what about you, Desmond Miles? Where is your home? Certainly it could not be here."

"It was Connor's home, at one point."

"And so the man is hardened for it-but you... you're still tender." Desmond sat, speechless for a moment.

"How would you know that?"

"Your emotions are written on your face, in your language, in the way you move. A man's disposition is greatly affected by where he is at rest."

"I... don't know. I lived on a secluded compound in the woods, growing up... and then I ran away, lived in this state for a while, and then got captured." I've felt home through three different pairs of eyes, felt the safety of it and the heartbreak of it being taken away. "I've started to think that there's no such thing." Was home with his mother and father, his family? What else had he to seek refuge to? Yusuf tsked.

"There is always home."

"I've felt lost, and vulnerable my entire life."

"It is not always where one feels safe, but where one comes to self-realization." Desmond turned the words over in his head. No matter how he arranged them, they still provided no solace.

"Shaun, can you and Rebecca set up a secure phone line from here?" William had returned from his supply run, barely setting his things down before telling the others of his plan.

"Good morning to you too, Bill," Shaun responded. The sun had just started to break the horizon, yet William didn't need to ask why Shaun didn't seem to have slept. Shaun pulled his glasses off, rubbing a hand over his eyes to relieve them of his computer screen.

"Has anything come up?" William walked over to where Shaun sat. Shaun shook his head, trying to stifle a yawn.

"As far as we know, we know nothing of Abstergo's plans, but they know nothing of us. It's better than nothing, I suppose."

"Good. We need to call one of our teams." Shaun's eyes widened.

"I thought no one was to know about all of this?" Shaun questioned. "The chance increases exponentially that we're found the more people who know."

"We need help, and somewhere to stay. We can't camp here for long. All things beside, I'm not comfortable staying so close to the Temple. Not after all that's happened."

"What's going on?" Rebecca walked into the room, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and trying to tame her messy bed-head.

"Bill wants to reach out to some of the others." Shaun glanced between the two in front of him.

"I thought..."

"I said to keep Desmond and the ancestors a secret, but we're at a loss. We can't do this alone- matters involving the Precursors have always been on a top-secret, need to know basis. However, we don't have the resources to pull this on our own."

"Who would we notify?" Rebecca sat down at her computer.

"Where was Gavin the last time we had correspondence?"

"Somewhere with the Altair II."

"He and his team are still at sea?"

"As far as I know."

"Could you triangulate his location?"

"With some digging. We ditched our cell phones during the last Templar attack, so the ship's wireless markers are going to be difficult to find- they're encrypted and buried within the network."

"I got us new burner phones. Find and set up a link as soon as you can."

"Will do, Bill." Rebecca turned to her computer screen, fingers already tapping rapidly at the keys. Shaun stood.

"Who's been watching Desmond?" William asked, realizing that neither Shaun or Rebecca had been at his side.

"Yusuf," Shaun replied.

"While I was gone? What if something had gone wrong?" Shaun sighed, running a hand through his hair. William had begrudgingly agreed to let the ancestors help in watching Desmond as he recovered- that way William, Shaun, and Rebecca had more leeway in their operations. Still, the threat of the Bleeding Effect seemed to be ever present- especially since Desmond's lapse after the Templar ambush.

"Rebecca or I would have stepped in."

"We agreed only to have the ancestors..."

"Watch Desmond while you were nearby, I know," Shaun said, nearly at the end of his patience. "They're going to be in close proximity soon enough, though and Rebecca needed the sleep." William sighed.

"What are the others doing?"

"Connor's outside, teaching Altair how to climb trees the last time I checked, Malik seems determined to read every book in this cabin, and Ezio fell asleep sometime while he stayed with Yusuf," Shaun said.

"Make sure no one hurts themselves." William rubbed a hand over his face, imagining Altair of all people falling from a tree and breaking something. It was the last thing they needed.

"I'm sure Connor can..."

"Hastings."

"It's below freezing outside and..."

"And I've been driving in it for the past eight hours. I'm going to go check on Desmond, you go find our over-curious assassins."

"What did you manage to find on your supply run, Bill?" Rebecca turned, curious.

"Food, purified water- I also picked up some medical supplies, a knee brace and crutches for Yusuf, along with bandages, and the like."

"Any complications?"

"No. But that's what has me so worried. Something's wrong, and it's not just that the ancestors have come back from the dead."

Altair stared at the tree branch above from the ground. Connor had moved with such ease to the highest tiers of the tree, he had been admittedly awestruck.

"It is just like climbing the side of a building." Connor called from above him.

"At home I do not climb with numb fingers." Altair abhorred the cold. It was not for lack of tolerance for the bite of the wind, but for the inability to feel that grew as the cold sapped the warmth from his veins.

"You can do it. Just do as I showed you." Altair sighed, his eyes hardening as he focused on his obstacle. He took off at a run, his hands scrambling for purchase as he latched on to the tree trunk. Using his momentum to pull himself upward, he leapt to grab onto the nearest branch, struggling to plant his feet once he had lifted himself up. He'd balanced upon smaller surfaces, but this one swayed with the wind and was alarmingly slippery with snow. Altair sought the support of the tree trunk as he caught himself. He let out a satisfied huff.

"You have done well." Altair nodded in thanks, rubbing his hands together. They were numb with the cold, but he could still feel the pain of the bark tearing at them. The skin of his palms and fingertips were reddened and raw. He had calluses from his own climbing, but Connor's must have been gnarly and rough enough to sand the wood off the very trees he climbed.

"Do you think you could climb any higher?" Connor asked. Altair remained silent, unwilling to give up so soon, moreso to show his own weakness. He stood back from the tree trunk, bearing himself for a short running start. His foot nearly slipped as a voice called from below:

"Altair, Connor, I assume you haven't hurt yourselves too badly, yet?" Altair caught his balance, shooting an irritated gaze to the man below. "William says that he wants you two inside, where, it is a great deal safer and warmer." Shaun stood with his hands buried in his coat pockets and his face buried in a scarf.

Connor had climbed down from the higher branches and landed next to Altair- with more grace and delicacy that Altair would have thought such a large man capable of.

"Did we do something against his wishes?" Connor's face scrunched in worry.

"He's just worried about the lot of us. Climbing trees in the middle of Winter isn't exactly child's play." Connor nodded, starting his descent. Altair lingered for a moment after Connor touched the ground. The latter looked up at him.

"Is something wrong, Altair?" The Syrian shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking away in his embarrassment.

"You did not instruct me in how to descend." Connor's eyes widened in apology. Shaun put a hand over his face.

"Are you a cat? You are the Master Assassin of Master Assassins and you can't get out of a tree?" Shaun sighed. Altair's eyes narrowed.

"New tasks require new skill sets, which take time to acquire. I apologize if my aptitude is not up to your expectations, Shaun," Altair hissed. Connor stepped forward, offering to resolve the conflict.

"It is as I said before, Altair. It is just as if you were climbing a building. You are plenty capable of doing so." Altair inwardly groaned, inching toward the tree trunk, finding adequate handholds before letting his feet slide off the branch.

His short descent was not so much controlled as it was fast- his feet skidded along the side of the tree trunk, his grip on the knots in the bark the only thing keeping him from falling. The last few feet offered no traction, to which Altair reached the ground with a grunt, losing his footing on the slippery ground. He stood, brushing off the snow that clung to his clothing; he pointedly avoided the eye contact of the others.

"It is okay, Altair. I had a hard time when I first climbed a tree."

"Can we please go inside?" Shaun begged.

"Thank you for trying to teach me, Connor."

"We can try again when there is less snow." Connor and Altair nodded in agreement as they stepped inside the cabin.

"I found the snowmen," Shaun called.

"You guys must be freezing." Rebecca stood, walking to a nearby couch and grabbing the blankets that had been stowed there.

"Oh no, I'm fine, really," Shaun started.

"Not you, Hastings," Rebecca scoffed. She offered the blankets to Altair and Connor, the two taking them gratefully. Altair engaged Connor in a conversation about his weaponry, taking a particular fascination in his bow and tomahawk.

Rebecca turned to Shaun, who was settling back at his computer.

"I've set up the secure connection. We should be able to contact Gavin on the Altair II."

"I'll get Bill."

William stood with the phone in his hand, staring at it as though he could will it to do his job for him. He took a deep breath, entering the number and waiting with his teeth grit as it rung.

"Who is this?" Gavin's gravelly voice grated over the phone, but it was more than a relief to hear such a familiar voice. William let out the breath he was holding.

"It's Bill."

"William? Why are you calling? What happened? We could risk..."

"Rebecca set up an encrypted line, we should be safe, for the time being."

"So I take it you were successful."

"Desmond was. In a matter of speaking," William said, his voice dropping as he contemplated the weight of his words.

"What went wrong, Bill?"

"Well, obviously, he saved the world-but at a price."

"Oh my god, William, is he..."

"Desmond's alive. The Precursors claimed he would die to save the world. We left to escape the storm, and when we came back, he was..."

"Alive?"

"One of his arms was burned as if with the sun itself, but he's alive. Recovering, slowly, but alive."

"Something tells me you didn't call me for an update."

"With Desmond's..." rebirth? resurrection? "being alive, we came across even more anomalies. Five, to be exact."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it's better if I show you, otherwise you'd call me insane and disappear."

"What is this all about?"

"Where are you now, Gavin?"

"Off the coast of Finland in the Baltic Sea. Before December 21st, we were tracking a lead on that Templar who attacked Adriano's team. The same one who captured you in Egypt." William grimaced.

"Berg."

"He's done a lot of traveling over the past months- must be high up within the Order. We were lucky to be so far north when he finally headed home."

"You said you were tracking him before the 21st. What are you doing now?"

"Our tracking systems and equipment has been offline since the solar flares started. We just recently got our cell signal and internet up and running again- you're lucky to have called when you did."

"Do you have sailing capabilities?"

"We do." Gavin paused. "What do you need, William?"

"Gather your team. Send me word when you're nearing the States."

"Are you in trouble, Bill?"

"We were hiding in the City, but our hideout was compromised. We managed to escape back into the woods near the Temple, but we can't stay here forever. We need resources, supplies- and help."

"Where do you want to meet?"

"The New York coast is too exposed. We'll travel farther north, and I'll let you know our coordinates."

"I'll be within range."

"Thank you, Gavin."

"Thank me after you tell me what's going on. Safety and Peace be upon you, Mentor."

"To you, as well."

"I hope you're happy." Vidic clasped his hands together as he sat at his desk. Haytham sat across from him, looking so infuriatingly uninterested in any of his words that Vidic was set to burst. They had sent out an entirely inclusive, Order-wide alert for the assassins. Abstergo had teams all over the world if someone so much as heard the name Miles they were to report in to the HQ in Rome.

So far, there had been no word.

"Happy about what, exactly?" Haytham leaned back in his chair, impervious eyes emitting nothing but ego. "If you're inquiring about my general well-being, I suggest you work on your consolation tactics."

"We've lost them. Due to your misplaced affections, we've lost both our enemy, and our answer to all of this."

"Very intimidating, Warren. Blaming me for your inability to lead your people." Haytham's voice was cool.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I work for control, I die by my own son's hands for it and this is what the Templars have become? With all of your new, advanced technology, you're still floundering when the enemy is crippled and broken, and even more vulnerable than normal."

"We will find them. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it takes, we'll find them." Haytham's eyes narrowed.

"You're afraid of something. I don't know what, but you're scrambling because you fear what all of this means." Warren grit his teeth. He was about to reply, when the phone on his desk beeped in notification.

"A call for you, Mr. Vidic."

"Who, and why?"

"Juhani Otso Berg, he claims to have information for you." Warren's eyes flicked to Haytham in spite. "Put him on the line."

"Mitä vittua?!"

"Juhani, it's good to hear from you."

"I thought you had died, that our work with the Animus was finished. Then, in the middle of the night, I get a phone call, issued from you that stated I was to be on high alert for people who should also be dead." Warren remained silent. "When you told me about your other research, and the tests, you never told me it would be like this."

"I unerringly said that I was to be kept out of that research. The Assassins are back, how, I don't know-" The same force that brought Haytham and I back? "But we might as well make the most of it."

"You're telling me that you're alive, and you have no idea how?"

"Have I ever been anything but honest with you, Juhani?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Warren rubbed a hand over his face.

"Our research that stemmed from the Animus Project is still far too primitive. It's still in its first stages, so we have limited resources. We're making progress, but that progress would be destroyed had I been included with my death."

"The test subjects?"

"Still being sustained." Warren heard Juhani sigh on the other side of the call.

"There's a reason you called me-let's hear it."

"I have contacts off of the coast that say an unmarked vessel left the region."

"Couldn't it have been a privately owned ship?"

"I don't think so. It's been sailing across the Baltic Sea for weeks- lingering near the coast. No one's seen or reported any extraneous activity. It disappeared just a day or so ago."

"I still don't see how this is relevant, Berg."

"I thought it was just someone's ship, but now it leaves without any provocation at the same time you issue a red alert for the assassins? It seems too suspicious."

"Can you track it?" Juhani went silent on the other end of the line. "Juhani?"

"Our scouts say that it was heading for open sea- it could be heading for the United States, or another remote location. We tried to get track the signal their sonar equipment was emitting, but it was blocked- we couldn't get it. Their signals have been dead since the solar flares. It seems too strange to have them making an encrypted transmission, only to leave soon after."

"It's them." It was a long shot, but at that moment, it was the only shot they had. "Send a team to follow the ship, engaging only if there's certainty that Miles and the others are going to be on it."

"Do you want me on this?"

"No. I'm going to book you a flight to Rome. It's about time you came into HQ."

"Okay." Vidic hung up the phone, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"You're following such an unsupported lead?" Haytham interrupted Warren's train of thought.

"It's all we have, what else am I supposed to do?" Haytham let out an exasperated huff.

"We wait, and use our resources on a more solid trail."

"We can't afford the luxury of time, I'm afraid."

"Why?" Warren regarded Haytham for a moment, before sighing and rising to his feet.

"Do you promise to serve under the Templar Order?"

"Is there even a question?" Vidic's eyes were cold, and the understanding passed between them both. His Father and son assassins were assassins- and nepotism is plenty reason to betray a cause.

"You have my word."

"I need to show you something." Vidic turned, beckoning Haytham to follow him. The former walked to the nearest wall, a digital screen appearing before him. Typing in a code, Haytham watched in utter fascination as the screen disappeared, and a panel opened from the wall in its place. As the panel was activated, a door opened to an elevator. The two men entered. A smooth, artificial voice sounded as the doors closed.

"Vidic, Warren. Top level security clearance authorized." Haytham did nothing but glance to the speaker in the corner of the elevator, his hands clasped behind his back. Vidic internally cringed. He would have thought that the man would be at least somewhat awed by such technology.

The elevator began its descent.

"You mentioned research- very secretive, if I understood your operative correctly," Haytham started.

"Only the Inner Sanctum of the Order knows of this. Do you remember the Animus Project I told you about?"

"The one in which people of the current day can relive the lives of their ancestors." Vidic nodded.

"Animus technology sprouted from the Pieces of Eden, and their capabilities. The Precursors, as you know, are far more advanced beings than mortals can even comprehend- some would say that they're synonymous with gods. Gods... can do a great deal more than sending one's consciousness back through time." The elevator doors opened, a corridor that was illuminated to white appeared in front of them.

Underground, artificial light, Haytham mused, squinting his eyes against the brightness. He followed Warren down the corridor, unclasping his hands from behind his back as he was led through a door.

The room they entered was dark, lightened only by the panoramic window that covered a wall to their right. An atrium appeared on the other side of the glass. There were mountains of equipment, more substantial than anything Haytham had ever seen before. Though the room was full, the main portion of the floor was dedicated to three identical machines- they looked as though they were enormous glass jars laying on their sides, supported by more of the current century's technology.

Haytham suppressed a gasp as he realized there were people in them.

"Are they..." Haytham stammered. The work of gods. Vidic's implications raced through his head and back again.

"Alive. They weren't always that way. The budding of Animus technology has enabled us to modify the different models, create life sustaining systems- and with the help of the Precursor's artifacts, create life, from death."

"Immortality."

"If we succeed, they'll be born again, a new life available to reshape for them. Desmond and his ancestors have experienced the same thing, as have I, but from a different source. I need to know what that source is- It's not just Those Who Came Before, it's something bigger."

"You want that power."

"The Templars would triumph- our goals would be fulfilled, once and for all. If the Assassins have it, the world will fall as if the Catastrophe had happened anyway."

"Men cannot hold the power of Gods, Warren."

"We already do- and we will." Haytham stood silently at Vidic's side, jaw clenched in his unease, yet his bearing was certain. "Welcome to the Order, Haytham." Vidic looked down at a monitor for the machines in the next room. He read the names; the three of them would be the dawn of a new world.

Lucy Stillman- Daniel Cross- Clay Kaczmarek.

A/N: For those who were confused about Juhani's statement in Finnish, "Mitä Vittua?!" (based on my research and my early-teenage obsession with a number of Finnish heavy metal bands) means "what the fuck?!" (Also, if I'm incorrect on that, let me know!)