I'm motivated. I had a suggestion come in, and I'm takin' it. And oh hey look, more favorites and follows of sympathy! I love you guys.
I was a bit worried how crowded I was making things? Bah humbug. You came for the modern AU. You got the modern AU. E'rybody cheer for this mudderfcudng AU. (Or you came for the fluff. Dat lovely fuzzy fluff.)
Keep in mind I started the timeline here in August, on Desmond's original date of capture by Abstergo in the original. Also, sorry, I have another college-heavy week and weekend to tackle now. The updates are shorter for now, but I felt like I should release what I have as I go instead of waiting for one bigger 2k-3k chapter once a week. What do you think, bigger updates once every 7-10 days or shorter ones more often as I get 'em done? Shoot, this just might go over 40k, I'm having fun...
September
A tide of change had come crashing down on Desmond in mere days. He felt as though Altair had picked him up yesterday, when at this point a month had passed. Everything was coming back to him; all those days hiking, training, and tuning his mind were flooding him, along with the bleeding effect. Learning techniques from his ancestors themselves relieved the effect most of the time, but it did not help him when he fell asleep. In his dreams he was without their aid. Memories from Ezio were strongest, and as Desmond was progressing through them, painful. He felt Ezio's physical and mental strain as his own. The man had lost his entire damn family; all in front of him when he could do nothing but see their lives stolen. Desmond struggled to figure out how a person faced with so much loss could turn out as he did; still compassionate and dignified. Also, he had to admit, Ezio was a smooth sort of philanderer; in a cheesy way. Having such a romancer in his lineage was somewhat embarrassing. At the same time, he hoped to learn some of that charisma.
Altair on the other hand...
Halfway through the second week together, Altair disappeared, leaving his supplies behind. Desmond woke late at noon near Rome when he was greeted by Connor, informing him Altair had left with little more than a quick, "Keep Desmond out of trouble, if Ezio is not captured he would meet you in Rome."
They both guessed he had left to hide the Apple somewhere, though Desmond sensed Connor withholding more from him. Beyond that, some memories of Altair's life were coming through, so far Desmond gleaned that he used to be a real prick. He was highly skilled and radically rebellious prick. At a glimpse he had to possess some critical self-discipline later. Connor informed him of all their former ranks; Altair had been the leading mentor of the Creed during his time, Ezio did the same in his own time period, Haytham had been a Templar Grand Master, and Connor himself had salvaged the Brotherhood. Desmond had many questions for Ezio if they met again, yet none for Altair- none he thought he would get a good response for, at least. Surely Altair was not that sour all the way through. He was like a block of cold chocolate with a chewy, rowdy nougat center swaddled in a crunchy wrapper of ill humor.
And today Desmond was determined to get a piece. As soon as he saw Altair meandering through the crowded Rome streets, he leapt to his feet. For the past three days he only experienced Connor's memories and a steady flow of Ezio's. Nothing he did mentally seemed to evoke Altair's memories. Being physically close to him had some effect before he left, bringing to mind purely boring mental images of desert landscape. Desmond had seen his fill of desert scenery from his birthplace. Maybe being near him now after a week of absence would bring something new. That, and Desmond needed to know where the hell he had been.
Desmond opened his mouth to speak, and Connor spoke quicker: "What happened to you?"
"Hm?" Altair peered sleepily from under his hood. He shouldered a different pack, a black satchel Desmond thought seemed familiar.
Recognizing it now, Desmond gestured to his chest. "You're covered in blood."
Altair stared at the rusty brown stains on his sweatshirt. "It isn't mine."
"Do I want to..."
"No," Altair narrowed his eyes, "you do not want to know. Is Ezio not here?"
Desmond's heart sank. "We haven't seen him." Something about that satchel in particular was poignant... He had seen someone else wear it before. Abruptly, the synapses clicked in his brain. "You met with my father!"
"Shh!" hissed Connor.
The three began walking, away from passersby. Altair's feet scuffed wearily over the stone pavement. He yawned, answering, "I may have, perhaps, how do you know?"
"That's his bag, my mom stitched a tear on the side. She... wasn't that good at it then." A sad, small laugh tumbled out of him. Concern showed through as he questioned, "Is... is she okay, then?"
Altair cast a sympathetic look back at him. "I do not know. I did receive the satchel from your father, he did not want you to know his involvement."
"What did you leave for, I thought you said you were separate from the modern Creed?"
"Losing Ezio sets us behind. This," he waved to their surroundings, "is his domain, despite its changes over the years. Your ability to speak the native language has been a benefit, but we are at a disadvantage again, especially with Haytham captured as well. I contacted my Syrian brethren and through them their American mentor, Bill Miles. We will return you to North America, at least there both Connor and you have better footing."
The gears turned slowly in Desmond's mind. "You aren't coming?"
"Hmph," Altair sat on a stone bench, in the shade of a pavilion. "What makes you think that?"
Connor crossed his arms. "Considering you operate alone, and you have told us before you would not work with the modern Assassins."
Leaning his elbows on his knees, Altair began to speak slower with drowsiness, "Never mind it. I had to go alone this time because I expected contact with the Assassins to be dangerous. I was all too correct," he pinched the dried blood on his jacket, "the Templars followed me closely. I will follow for as long as I need to escort Desmond."
Desmond made a surprised noise. "Aren't you going to help me synchronize your memories?"
Altair fixed a chilling glare on Desmond. "You seem to be doing well enough learning from him," he lifted a finger toward Connor.
Wind blew through the pavilion, tugging at Desmond's sleeves. Connor seemed to accept his words at face value, agreeing Desmond's progress was decent. Cocking a brow, Desmond tried not to smile with the terribly petty realization on his mind. "Altair..."
"What?" he almost snarled.
Damn it all, the smirk was plastered on his face. "Are... are you jealous?"
"No!" The color rose in Altair's face. "I am not," he grumbled quieter, looking away. "Wipe that grin off your face before I scrape it off."
Connor gazed between them, surprised. "Altair-" he began.
"Put your hands up!" someone commanded.
The three saw the Abstergo guard moving toward them, leveling a handgun at Desmond. Connor unsheathed his blade, charging toward him. At the same time, another guard stepped around the corner by Altair. Reacting instinctively, Desmond stabbed the man under his chin. A dart whizzed by his shoulder, cutting the fabric. Connor eliminated the guard a second later. Altair was standing reaching to move Desmond. Before he could, another dart buried itself in Desmond's arm. Darts? They're being very careful...
Quickly becoming dizzy, Desmond blearily looked around for his attacker. At least three more guards were coming down the opposite street, the one reloading his weapon must be the lucky man. Suddenly Desmond found himself in the air, then moving... A muscled shoulder bumped against his stomach. He tried to turn, realizing fuzzily that he was being carried.
"You are in good hands, bambino!" Ezio smiled back at him.
The carpet cleaner droned loudly. An elderly woman dragged the machine back and forth over a fresh, dark red blotch over the gray rug. Berg paced in the lobby, each step long and precariously slow. Shay advanced from the elevator, rifle in hand as though he had been interrupted in cleaning it. "Sir?" he spoke. "Has anything transpired here?"
Holding up a hand, Berg said, "No, no... A dim witted messenger became a browning stain on the clean rug is all. He brought with him upsetting news."
Shay eyed the dark color on the rug, and the cheery woman scrubbing it away. "Which is?"
Berg cracked his knuckles. "Altair made a move rather early in the game. Cheating, though I'm not surprised of course- they are Assassins. The only reason he could be in touch with Syria's Brotherhood at this point in time would be to protect himself; he went alone, Apple in hand. It seems he has abandoned Desmond, suspecting Ezio is still in custody and would reveal the location of the Shroud... which, unknowingly, he has. We gained that much from his recent memory."
"We should replicate Ezio's maneuver, then," said Shay.
"My thoughts exactly." Berg pointed to a fleck of red by his shoe, remarking to the woman, "Missed a spot, ma'am."
She nodded, moving to clean the last of whoever was unfortunate enough to relay unsavory information.
Berg continued, "We will raise Altair's former opponent."
Dun, dun, duuunnnn.
Ezio is back, bitches! Haytham is still here. He'll be back in the line of action soon, and it will be marvelous. I definitely will write an AU Connor and Haytham family fic specifically for them once this is done, and I dare say I foresee other family fics... and me taking requests later... Hurhurhur. I'll also kill your hopes right now: no Arno. I'm sorry. I never played Unity so... Arno will not be in this.
And SWEET FANCY MOLASSES! over 4k views now
