When he did wake, it was to the polite sound of someone knocking. With his heart in his stomach, he dressed in Alex's shirt again, pulling on the pants and belting them before he moved the bureau and walked out to breakfast. With his heart in his stomach, he met Shaun at the door.
"Ready?"
He nodded absentmindedly, walking alongside him. Shaun was quiet for a moment, and Desmond could feel his gaze on him. He was, actually, feeling a bit lonelier now that he had called Alex and heard him speak. He was super lonely, truthfully. He wanted Alex back now. He wanted him in bed right now, so he could curl up against him and not worry anymore.
"What's wrong, Desmond?"
Desmond shrugged. All he had to do was stay alive until Alex or his brother got here. Which shouldn't be too bad, because they ate out. So it wasn't as if the food was poisoned—unless he had paid the chefs to do it. But that didn't make sense, because Shaun could murder him right now and get away with it.
"Surely you aren't lonely, are you?"
He shook his head, then shrugged. "A little. I'm just… used to nights and mornings with Alex."
"You seemed fine up until today."
"Yeah," he sagged. "I know. But I broke down and called Alex last night. Made me realize how lonely I was. And the place is kinda spooky now that he's gone, too. Really, now that all of the pirates are gone."
Shaun nodded, looking at him as they ignored the cityfolk passing by. "Understandable. You don't get nightmares easily, do you?"
"No," he said, "as long as I'm on my medication."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. Alex said he was bringing me more."
"Good. Otherwise I'd have to order him to."
They were silent as they walked to their favorite little café. They sat in silence for a while before Shaun sighed.
"The reason why I asked is because there's something I wish to show you tonight."
Desmond raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Shaun settled back, looking away and into the street. "Something extraordinarily important to me."
Desmond tilted his head. "Really? I've already seen your library."
"That, despite what you may think, is not the most important thing I own."
He damned his fanboy-ishness as he perked up and scooted closer. "What is, then?"
Shaun offered him an amused smile. "That would ruin the surprise, now, wouldn't it? All I can tell you is that it is horrifying, and if you are squeamish or are liable to get nightmares at all, I would not suggest taking up my offer."
Damn nightmares, now he was curious. "What is it?"
Shaun chuckled, still looking amused on his behalf. "You will see later tonight. Perhaps around lunchtime, if you wish, since the nighttime is infinitely more frightening."
"Lunchtime!" he said, squirming in his seat. "Yeah! Then!"
He had no idea what could be more important than that library. All fear forgotten, he kept pressing Shaun until they were done eating and back at the hideaway. He followed at Shaun's heels like a puppy up to the second floor, following him into an attic-like room. Shaun took off his suit jacket as Desmond looked around, standing in the doorway just in case he needed to flee.
"Uncover the eyes, please," Shaun barked.
"W-what—what the Hell is going on?"
Desmond was paralyzed in his spot, watching as the wall parted and out came two white arm-like things. The walls moved apart, revealing a small gray room lit by blue candlelight that was contained within glass tubes. There was a sheet of glass covering something. He was drawn forward. He couldn't quite make out what it was: whatever was behind the glass severely deteriorated.
"This is what is most important to me."
He was drawn toward it, wary of approaching. There was something enticing about it, and he was curious to see what artifact of the oldest world he was looking at. He couldn't make out anything about it, drawn closer and closer until he was standing right in front of it, the blue light hardly illuminating it. There was a strip of cloth draped across part of it.
"If you look close enough, it's me."
He jumped. Shaun was looking over his shoulder at the glass case. He stared at it, not seeing the picture.
"I don't…"
"Here," Shaun offered, walking back to the entrance and standing with his back turned. "Uncover the eyes, please."
He jumped when the arm-like things started moving behind the glass wall. They removed the cloth, and he yelped. There were eyes. Serious-looking eyes. The whole picture seemed to come together then.
There was a person, standing in the middle of it. It was creepy. The skin was wrinkled and peeling, half-decaying straight from the flesh. There were blood trails over the dried, and shriveled skin stretched around the eyes. In the background, he could make out the outline of many different people. Some of them looked like they were dying, others as if they were weeping. And they didn't look normal. They were surreal almost. He could almost make out who they were. He was drawn back to the eyes, which seemed to be staring straight at him, reading him. They looked jealous, greedy, evil.
"It's me."
He turned and stared at Shaun's back. "W-what?"
"Do you remember The Portrait of Dorian Gray?"
He inhaled sharply. "W-what?"
"It's me," Shaun said, gesturing without turning around. "That picture."
He turned back and looked at it. There was some resemblance to Shaun. His eyes were drawn back to the eyes of the painting. They were haunting. This is what Shaun looked like inside.
"If you wish," Shaun began, "you no longer must stay with me, now knowing just what I have done."
He turned back to the painting, his eyes drawn back to staring at the painting's eyes. He couldn't even actually concentrate on the background or the skin, but only through his peripheral vision. It was terrifying.
"B-but…"
He lifted his fingers to touch the glass lightly, almost wishing he could touch the painting.
"It has been the first time in several months I have looked at it. It is not that pleasant for me, if you could have guessed. If you pay attention carefully, my soul, now so corrupted, and the canvas, so deteriorated, have the images of those I have hurt residing in the background."
Desmond studied it closely, ripping his eyes away from the painting's eyes long enough to strain to try to pick out the people. He thought he saw Kadar weeping in it, the remnants of a blue pair of eyes and tanned skin barely there.
"Is that…"
"If you're going to say 'Kadar,' undoubtedly, he is portrayed."
Desmond's eyes grew wide. "W-why did you—"
"It was necessary. Despite the fact that I love him, I cannot be with him. Malik would never listen again."
"But…"
"The contract simply states he will work for me, and cannot raise a hand against me."
Desmond was quiet. Part of him wanted to believe that Shaun still loved Kadar—but he doubted Shaun could "love" in the first place. Kadar looked so broken in the picture. He wondered if—
"Is there a way to fix the picture?"
"Perhaps, but I fear I have been doing evil for so long I cannot remember how to do good."
His gut said that he shouldn't buy into that.
His heart said that he should help him.
And his gut was always right.
But his heart was so much more convincing.
He blinked, his brows knitting together as he longed to see the painting fixed. Perhaps he could try to help Shaun for a little bit. Just enough to fix the background.
His heart rejoiced.
His gut tightened.
There was something else gnawing at him from the corner of the painting. He focused on the blurry image, eventually outlining eyes and a face, and there was something so familiar about this man. He knew he had seen a man similar to the blob in the corner, and he was certain he could identify him if he could just see him a bit better. He seemed to be dying, writhing in pain and bleeding from a wound on his forehead, and then it clicked.
That was Rebecca's fiancé.
His eyes widened. He knew he knew that face. He knew it. He had seen the man in the obituary from the newspapers he had read in the town of Majibul. Shaun had murdered Rebecca's fiancé. Just as he had broken Kadar's heart to get to Malik.
So then, he had to wonder why was playing nice with him.
Unless…
"Altair and Gilberto," he murmured, straightening and stumbling back.
Shaun was using him to get to Altair and Gilberto. He looked at the man's back, and he could feel his heart sinking.
But his gut told him otherwise.
Perhaps his gut wasn't always right.
He looked back to the picture, back at the eyes. He was ready to punch the glass and rip it into shreds, but the eyes stopped him.
The eyes weren't evil. They were panicked.
He was going crazy. He had taken his medications. He knew he had. Both that morning and last night to help calm his fear and paranoia Shaun was going to kill him. He needed to call Altair. His medications weren't working right anymore. The painting was changing before his eyes.
He forced himself to look at the floor and muttered, "Cover the eyes, please."
He jumped when the arm things actually listened to him. He covered his face with his hands and sunk to his knees. He just wanted to go home. He didn't want to be here anymore. Shaun was too much. Shaun was… more than he could handle. He just wanted to go home. With Alex.
"Desmond?"
He felt Shaun walk over and place a hand on his shoulders. With a grunt, he jerked away and rose, glaring at him, hurt. Sure, he had expected to be used by the man just as he had been used by the pirates, but he hadn't expected to be used to lure his brothers into a trap. He snarled, shaking his head.
"Stay away from me, you filthy piece of shit."
Shaun looked genuinely surprised. "D-Desmond?"
"I won't let you get your hands on Altair and Gilberto. I won't let you contract them!"
Shaun blinked, rising slowly with his hands on the cane head. "Desmond, what are you talking about?"
"I know what you're doing! You're using me to get to Altair and Gilberto so you can contract them into service! And then you'll own their souls just like you own everyone else's! I won't let you own them!"
Shaun blinked again. "Desmond, what nonsense are you talking about?"
"I knew I heard Altair call someone an 'invasive rat' over the phone when I called him! He was talking to you!"
Shaun raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. "So you overheard that."
"Yes, I did! And you won't—"
He waved a hand dismissively, causing Desmond to shut his mouth, his hands curling into fists as he trembled with rage.
"Desmond, listen. How does a contract happen?"
"When two people agree with something and sign a piece of paper."
"More or less. Now, what happens if one of them doesn't agree?"
"Then he doesn't sign it."
"Bingo. So, if Altair doesn't agree—"
"You'll use the pirates to force him."
Shaun huffed. "Listen: they do not have to fight for me. They choose to because they want to. They cannot raise a hand against me to injure me. Foolish of me not to make sure they must fight for me, but I was naïve to the fact they might. But, I am their enemy, so to speak. I am also Altair's enemy, because I have his baby brother under my charge. Now, Alex and Altair may not be on good terms, but if I am a common enemy, then Alex will not stop him from attempting to kill me."
Desmond gave him a wary look, and Shaun held up his hand in surrender.
"I swear by it, Desmond. You can ask Alex when he returns."
"Then why does he listen to you?"
"Because I give him employment and immunity from the law in exchange for his service. I could rip his contract in half and feed him the 'antidote' to the Blacklight virus if I wished, but I have chosen not to."
Desmond frowned, his fists loosening slightly. "I don't get it."
"Cover the eyes, please," Shaun said offhandedly, and Desmond jumped when the wall started to move again. "The fact of the matter is, Desmond, Altair will not have to sign anything if he wishes. I am sure that Alex has contacted him by now, and they have reached a truce. It will take more than just luring them here to convince them to sign a contract, I am sure. You trust your older brother more than me. I will have to work if I wish to recruit him. No doubt the others have already poisoned him against me."
Desmond stepped backward. "I don't believe you."
"Believe what you will, Desmond. I cannot change your mind. Regardless, I will be in the library if you wish to speak."
With that, he turned and left, leaving Desmond standing there, a scowl on his face. As much as he didn't want to admit it, what Shaun said made sense. He looked at the wall again, now covered and the painting sealed safely within. He didn't know why Shaun had chosen to show him. Without a second thought, he rushed out, back to his room, and pushed the bureau in front of the door before curling under his covers and attempting to block out any confusing thoughts.
It was later that night before he emerged again, taking his medications as he walked out to find Shaun. He stepped into the main room of the library, sitting down with a huff next to Shaun on a couch. He stared at the fire, ignoring Shaun's raised eyebrow. The man was looking through some thick text, an ancient tomb, by the looks of it.
"Can I help you?"
"I don't want to talk to you."
Shaun rolled his eyes as Desmond sat there, scowling. He didn't want to believe what Shaun was saying. He actually didn't. Both his gut and his heart were in agreement with that, and he knew that he was lining up for heartache if he kept playing friends with him. Eventually, tired of watching the fire, his mind blank, he slouched against the cushions.
"Why did you tell me I couldn't go with them on the mission?"
Shaun hummed briefly, setting the old tomb down and looking at him. "Why did I… Ah, I see. Simply enough, I enjoy your company. No one else has provided me with the same level of conversation you have."
"Why not?"
"They're all Neanderthals. Even Kadar, although he is a step above the others. The boy is smart, but not at all willing to argue, despite the fact that I cannot kill him. And then you come traipsing in with the monkeys, looking as if you belong with them, and you're mortal, above all things, itching for an argument and eager for intelligent conversation. You're an attractive person, Desmond. Both physically and mentally."
"I don't believe you. How do I know you're not just using me?"
"How do I know you're not just using me?"
"Huh?" Desmond blinked, looking at Shaun.
The man met his gaze, completely serious. His hands were folded in his lap, and his lips were in a thin line.
"I asked, 'how do I know that you aren't using me?'"
"W-what?"
"I mean, you use my funding to eat, you read my books, use my previous experience in reading them for conversation. You use my brain to sate your curiosity about the old worlds. You use my pirates for companionship, and you certainly didn't fight to go with them on the mission."
He tilted his head, and Shaun waved a hand back and forth.
"It's what a relationship is, Desmond. Friends, brothers, lovers, parents. It's about the give and take. You use me—I use you. You use Alex—he uses you."
Desmond frowned. "What?"
"You use me for necessities and conversation, and I use you for much the same conversation. You use Alex for protection and a warm body in bed, someone to fulfill your wild fantasies and daydreams, and he uses you for sex and reassurance he's not a monster."
Desmond snorted. "That's bull."
"Which part?"
"Alex uses me for reassurance he's not a monster."
Shaun laughed harshly. "It's true. Did he not imply that? Of course not, the man has as many subtleties as a herd of stampeding elephants. He doesn't know how to handle social situations. There is no social grace in him. You give him a feeling of humanity again."
Desmond blinked, then frowned and opened his mouth.
"Yes, yes, I know: you don't believe me. There is a reason he has slept with you more than once, and controlled himself in his purest state enough to let you play with it, rather than just snapping you in half and eating you like an hors d'oeuvre at a cocktail party. You make him feel as if he were human."
Desmond gave him a disbelieving look.
"Do you understand what I am saying now? Of course I'm using you—just as you are using me."
Desmond pursed his lips, looking back at the fire and exhaling softly. "I… suppose."
"You suppose?"
"I mean, you make relationships seem so… negative that way."
"Reality is not often pleasant."
He was quiet for a few minutes. So Alex did, actually, value him. Perhaps. He hoped. Shaun seemed to think so. Shaun also liked him. He smiled softly. Shaun liked him for who he was. So did Alex. He broke out into a full grin. He was no longer the dorky kid who dreamed of sky pirates anymore. He was the attractive kid who was liked by sky pirates.
"What on earth are you thinking about to make you smile like a goonie?"
Desmond turned to him. "Can we go out to eat?"
Shaun scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stood. "Nothing more than a man, after all. Thinking with your stomach."
Desmond laughed. "Can you tell me more about the Third World War?"
Shaun sighed, sounding put-upon as he walked with him into the darkened streets to go to their favorite café. And he wasn't entirely sure how, but once they returned, Desmond found himself relaxing on Shaun's bed, his head on his chest as he lay on him, listening to him talk about fighting in the war. It was fascinating, and every time he told the story, he added in details he had forgotten, now reminded of. Shaun was rubbing his back, talking quietly as he listened, and he yawned, emotionally drained from the fear and paranoia he had been feeling all day. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the final fight that almost destroyed the world.
