Running away was something that came easily to Desmond, who had done it a few times. In the past, however, he'd always had the advantage of running away alone, and he was discovering that doing it with a partner gave a rather unwelcome boost to the challenge.
They were blessed in that the entrance to the car park opened up directly onto a main street, and the city's grid system made it easy for them to zig-zag their way through alleys, never staying on the same street for too long. This also meant that Desmond was in constant risk of losing sight of Kaczmarek, which was something that he definitely didn't want to do until he could be sure that the man wasn't trying to lose him as well. At one point he tried grabbing hold of Kaczmarek's hand, but some of the paths they were taking were so narrow that he quickly realised hand-holding was not going to be an option.
After the first few minutes Desmond stopped hearing the sound of guards chasing after them. After ten minutes of near-sprinting he developed a pain in his side and stopped to lean against the window of a launderette. To his relief, Kaczmarek backtracked from where he had run on a little and joined Desmond, his breath ragged and dark patches of sweat visibly forming on the front of his T-shirt. There weren't many people around at this time of day, but the few people that there were gave the pair of them very odd looks.
"You..." Kaczmarek paused for a moment to get his breath back. "You need to get out of that uniform. It makes you stand out a mile."
"And running around naked won't?"
Kaczmarek looked around, and then ducked into the launderette. Desmond heard one of the dryers inside stop spinning with an abrupt clunk as Kaczmarek opened the door, and after about a minute he returned, holding a pair of jeans and what looked like a large hockey jersey with a penguin on it.
Desmond nodded gratefully and walked into an alley that led to a damp, overcast car park. He stripped off the Abstergo uniform while Kaczmarek watched, and felt his skin heat up even in the freezing weather. As soon as the effect wore off, however, he realised that the hockey jersey was going to be insufficent for keeping out the cold.
"We need to get somewhere inside," he stated, his teeth chattering. "A hotel or something."
"I hope you have some money, then, because Abstergo commandeered all my credit cards."
"Right ... shit." Desmond realised that his wallet was presumably somewhere at Abstergo, probably in Warren Vidic's desk.
Kaczmarek looked at him, studying his uncertainty. "Are you serious? The Assassins didn't give you any dough to help you get by?"
"The Assassins?"
Kaczmarek's frown lifted a little in realisation. "The Assassins didn't send you?"
Desmond shook his head, with no idea how to begin telling Kaczmarek the truth. The other man seemed to be working himself up to the challenge of deducing it anyway.
"No. The Assassins wouldn't send an agent in to rescue someone like me. I'm not valuable enough to them. If they were going to launch a rescue mission then it would be for Subject Seventeen, but either they decided to leave him behind or..."
There was a long moment. Eventually Desmond nodded wearily, wishing that they could have this discussion somewhere warm.
"You are Subject Seventeen."
Desmond was starting to get light-headed from exhaustion and cold. "I told you I'd figure out an escape plan," he said.
Kaczmarek looked somewhere between confused and horrified, and was taking steps towards Desmond with the air of someone who really wanted to be walking away. His eyes had acquired that brittle edge that Desmond had come to associate with his moments of insanity. Beneath the concealing layer of the hockey jersey, he tensed his muscles ready to deal with an attack.
"Miles?" Kaczmarek murmured slowly, scanning Desmond's face with his piercing gaze. "Vidic called you Miles."
"Desmond Miles. I'm William Miles' son. But-" Desmond held out a hand placatingly as Kaczmarek visibly recoiled. "I haven't seen him in years, I swear. I ran away from home when I was sixteen, I'm not even an Assassin, not really..."
"That guard back there would probably beg to differ."
Desmond opened his mouth and then realised that he had no counter-argument. He thought about the blood dripping down the window of the booth and wondered if the guard had been a husband or a father. Would it matter if he was? Was his life worth less if he had lived alone, just as Desmond had done for the last few years?
Kaczmarek was walking away.
"Hey!" Desmond yelled, running after him. "I just busted my ass to get you out of Abstergo! If you think I'm just going to let you vanish on me..."
He grabbed Kaczmarek by the arm and the man calmly turned, fisted a hand in the front of Desmond's jersey and shoved him backwards into the rough bricks of the wall. "Relax, Miles, I'm just going to acquire some capital and I can't work with you breathing over my shoulder."
Kaczmarek's body was impossibly close, impossibly real, his bloodied forearm a hard line down Desmond's chest and stomach. Then he was gone, and Desmond sank to the ground, his back scraping against the brickwork. He closed his eyes, attempting to recover his composure, and realised just how exhausted he was, unsatiated by his short, taser-driven sleep from earlier.
It was fifteen minutes before Kaczmarek returned. He brandished two wallets and a fistful of notes in front of Desmond's face proudly, like a dog offering his master a bone.
"Where the hell did you get all that?"
"You live in the Animus long enough, you learn everything you need to know about being a pickpocket. Come on, we're still only a couple of miles from Abstergo. We'll take a bus downtown, find somewhere to hole up for the day and then travel out of the city at nightfall."
It was strange to see Kaczmarek making plans like this; the man seemed to swerve between being completely together and being totally unstable, but Desmond was too tired and cold to argue. He was about to struggle to his feet when he felt a hand in the crook of his elbow and Kaczmarek lifted him up effortlessly. He was strong, Desmond realised, and fast. Had he been working out in between Animus sessions for the last two years?
The bus arrived just as they made it back onto the street. Desmond slumped into a seat while Kaczmarek paid for both of them and passed out almost immediately.
A particularly nasty bump in the road woke him up with a jolt, and Desmond realised that he had fallen asleep on Kaczmarek's shoulder. The man didn't seem to mind. He was looking directly ahead, watching the road, his eyes flicking nervously from right to left, and Desmond realised that his body was shaking in a way that wasn't completely due to the bumpy road.
Desmond laid his head back down on Kaczmarek's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling the trembling in the other man's body start to abate a little.
Desmond woke up again when Kaczmarek moved, standing up so fast that Desmond's head slid off his shoulder and he nearly fell off the seat altogether. By the time he had recovered, Kaczmarek was already off the bus and Desmond nearly didn't make it in time before the doors closed behind him.
Staggering a little as he landed on the sidewalk, Desmond looked over to see the outline of Kaczmarek's arm silhouetted against the morning sky as he pointed towards a sign down the street.
"There. $20 per person, per night."
"It looks like a shithole."
"You want the Ritz, you pay for it, Princess."
"Technically you're not paying for this, the people you robbed are."
"They don't have refined tastes. It's either this or we get on another bus and you carry on drooling all over my shoulder." He walked off briskly before Desmond had a chance to respond.
Desmond nearly fell asleep against the wall of the hotel reception while Kaczmarek was paying, and when he opened his eyes he found the guy behind the counter giving him a dirty look. He struggled against the wait of the almost pathological exhaustion, but in the end Kaczmarek had to half-drag him to their room.
"One bed?" Desmond mumbled sleepily as Kaczmarek pushed him through the door.
"It was cheaper that way."
No wonder the receptionist had given him a dirty look.
Desmond fell onto the bed, ready to pass out blissfully, and groaned when he felt a tugging on his feet. "Gerroff."
"You're not sleeping in those clothes. They're the only set you have and I'm not scavenging in any more launderettes."
Kaczmarek removed his shoes and pulled Desmond into an upright position. Realising that it was the fastest way to get peace, Desmond found the hem of the hockey jersey and tugged the oversized piece of clothing over his head. Before he had even finished he felt fingers tugging at the button on his borrowed jeans and tensed in shock, but Kaczmarek seemed not to see anything strange in removing another man's clothes.
"Lift," he said, after undoing the zip. Desmond braced his arms on the bed and raised his hips, allowing Kaczmarek to slide the jeans down his legs. He tossed them to one side and then shoved Desmond ungraciously back down onto the bed. "Now you can sleep."
He fell asleep the second his head the pillow, stirred a few moments later as he felt Kaczmarek slide in next to him, and then easily sank back into unconsciousness.