part 5 of desmond's story!

we're getting close to the end of his stay in abstergo. if things are confusing... well, i hope that when i get to the point, it'll be a good retrospect thing.

this story is still incredibly self-indulgent and i'm doing what i want here, but i do like getting comments and stuff from people!

ps, they've been bonded since they were 8. that kind of connection does stuff since they're just starting to develop and grow

Day six, and Desmond was… not doing well. He wasn't doing badly, he felt, but it definitely wasn't going well. He had a headache that came from using the Animus constantly, a sharp stinging pain that started at the base of his neck.

He had been confused as to its location until he realized that was where his neck rested on the Animus. The machine did read his brain waves and kept his body still while he used it.

Day six, and he figured he'd just 'wake up' when they told him to, and spent his time visiting literally anyone else.

"How are you doing, Elise?" Desmond asked, watching her as she worked on something at her desk.

She wore her sword and her pistol, even in the supposed safety of her home. That was troubling, though understandable with recent events.

"Are you really asking me that?" Elise asked, eyebrow raised, "We've been all getting echoes of your headache, you know."

"It's why I'm asking," Desmond said dryly, smiling faintly. "Focus on something else and all that. Besides, I realized that because I'm dealing with my entire… situation, I haven't really been paying attention. And you seemed stressed."

Elise smiled softly at him. "Thank you for worrying. I've mostly just been stressed, dealing with the whole attempted coup and all. And Arno has been…" Elise trailed off, and rubbed at her eyes. She accidentally smeared some ink along her cheek. "Anyways, just focus on yourself."

"I'd really rather not until they come and grab me," Desmond admitted, and rubbed his arms.

"Oh," Elise said, her brow furrowed. She glanced at her papers and then back up at Desmond. And, near silently, the others all arrived, their own work in hand."Well, stay as long as you need."

"Thanks," Desmond said. He smiled at his other selves. He savored the warm feelings they were sending him. "Sorry. I know you all had something else you were supposed to be doing."

"Oh, shut up Desmond," Elise said gently, and rolled her eyes. "You are ours, and you'd do the same for us."

For all that Altair had a coup planned, he still followed the orders that Al Mualim handed him. Most of it was to keep attention off of him, for it would do no one good if the Eagle of Masyaf was seen disobeying orders. Part was to investigate for what reasons these nine men were chosen to be killed.

Like always, it was a power play. Each man, disgusting and worth killing on their own regardless of affiliation, each told Altair more of what he had already suspected. Al Mualim had their treasure, the Apple of Eden, and wished for no one else who knew of it to live.

Altair completed the assignments, yes. But he did them quietly, in the shadows, so that no one knew who killed them. For the past century, since Masyaf was founded, the Order of Assassins worked liberally and freely. They were meant to be a beacon of hope, so that the people could see them working, and knew that they were defended.

But that purpose had been lost since then; they were no more than mercenaries, now. It was not a bad life, for they still strived to teach others, and to lead them to self-realization. But it was not the way that they should remain.

Altair, son of Umar and Maud, was the Eagle of Masyaf. History would say that he was the Mentor that led to the rebirth of the Assassin Order, giving it the shape that it would follow for the next millennium. Few would know that he had seven other selves that would shape it along with him.

Even less would know he walked with seven others at his side.

Desmond blinked tiredly at Lucy, who handed him his food. It was another long day. Vidic had him in the Animus until dinner time today, and he certainly felt it. It bled to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was leaning tiredly against his shoulder, and chewing absentmindedly on some jerky.

"You need to eat, Desmond," Lucy said worriedly, looking him once over.

"Okay," Desmond agreed, because he really did need to eat. He ate his sandwich mechanically.

"How are you feeling?" Lucy asked.

Desmond swallowed and thought how to answer. May as well go for honesty, there really wasn't much reason not to. "I'm exhausted, actually. It's hard to keep track of time, and I've been getting headaches alongside forgetting which language I'm speaking. And Altair's memories are… much clearer than some of my own."

Part of it had to be the Bleeding Effect- the headaches were proof enough. But he couldn't discount the fact that he had been cramming near days and weeks worth of memories in his head at once, vivid in the way only the Animus could provide.

And they were all of important moments, as Altair lived and learned and decided that the coup was the only way to go. If Desmond had a way to use his second sight when viewing the memories as a memory rather than living through it, he was certain that they'd be golden.

Lucy looked at him, brow furrowed.

"Was I speaking English?" Desmond asked tiredly. He did not like not being able to tell which language he was speaking at any given time. It had been literally more than a decade since any of them had trouble with it.

"You were," Lucy confirmed. "Though you did have an odd accent, of sorts. I was just worried about what you were going through."

"That's good," Desmond said. Odd accent? He looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who shrugged, but nodded at his unspoken question. Huh. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't speak a language from either Europe or Asia as a first language. To those unfamiliar with it, Desmond supposed it would cause an odd accent. "The language thing, I mean, not… everything else."

"I understood what you meant," Lucy said, smiling faintly. "I'll find you some painkillers for the headache."

"Abstergo has a pharmaceutical company attached, I sure hope you can find me some good pain meds," Desmond said dryly. Lucy laughed lightly at the tone. Yay. Brownie points.

"Altair is heading to Masyaf now," Ratonhnhaké:ton said quietly, looking to Desmond. "We're getting closer. I don't know what will happen to you, here, since it's likely to coincide with when you're in the Animus."

Desmond closed his eyes, and pressed closer to Ratonhnhaké:ton. Yeah, he didn't know either.

Robert de Sable was no idiot; he saw what was happening to his allies, and knew that he was on the list to be killed next. Altair may have made certain that the general populace didn't know that Masyaf or Assassins were behind the deaths, but Sable knew of them already.

Still, having a body double sent to the funeral was something else. And cowardly, if a smart move overall. But the double, whose name he didn't know, was an impressive swordsman. But though they were an enemy, they were not the blinding red of Sable.

Altair spared their life. It was to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, out of respect of their skill, and also because they were not his target.

"Altair, he plans to ride to Richard and point him to Masyaf!" Malik hissed in worry, when Altair returned to the Bureau that evening. He didn't care to be quiet. The Assassins here were trusted, and knew of their plans.

Altair breathed harshly through is teeth. They were to move in a couple of weeks time. None of them could afford another attack on Masyaf so close to their planned coup. Most of their resources had to be put towards recovery afterwards.

"We must ride to King Richard," Evie said quickly, brow furrowed. "History paints him as reasonable. He will hear you out."

"I will go to meet the King, then," Altair said to Malik. He shook his head when Malik looked ready to argue. "No. You must continue to prepare here, and I will ride out. There is enough time for me to do both."

Malik sneered, but Altair knew better than to take it to heart. The worry was obvious. "You are a fool, Altair. But we don't have the capability to worry about an attack. Go, with my blessing. I will finalize everything here."

"Safety and peace, Malik," Altair said.

"Safety and peace," Malik repeated.

Desmond did his quick walk around the main room. He felt listless. He had been kidnapped for a week total, if he counted the travel time from New York to Rome. Desmond trusted his captains and the people he had left behind, but he still worried. The communication circuit between them was strong; no one should be drastically worried about him just disappearing.

That didn't mean he still didn't worry. Especially for Nonna, who was getting to be so old, no matter that she had a strong heart and an even stronger personality. All of her children were elsewhere, leaving her alone in that apartment… Desmond shook his head. He wasn't compartmentalizing as well as he should.

Altair arrived in Masyaf tomorrow. The Animus compressed time; what took minutes of travel was actually days, if not weeks, of travel in reality. It was strange to realize that he had practically relived the last few months in only a few days. Harsh on his brain and his sense of time, but also just really completely strange.

"You need to rest," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "Go to bed, Desmond."

"You too," Desmond said, looking him over. Ratonhnhaké:ton was dealing with a revolution, after all. "But yeah, time for bed."

"Whoo, day seven, let's have it for day seven of my stint as a kidnapped bartender in Abstergo Industries," Desmond said cheerfully the next morning. He went to grab his breakfast, which was an actual omelet, alongside a muffin and juice. Nice!

"Good morning, Desmond," Lucy said flatly, though her eyes were amused. "What a wonderful introduction today."

Desmond shrugged, and when he got closer to his breakfast, he smelled… coffee. "Oh my god, Lucy, good morning, I love you, I will have your babies for you," Desmond said, grabbing the cup.

He refrained from actually chugging it, but it was a close thing. He was actually rather proud about it. At least he still had some measure of self control still.

Lucy actually laughed at him. Yay! He ignored Vidic in the corner, who sneered at him. Yeah, fuck you too you asshole. Desmond didn't care about you.

He bravely refrained from flipping him off. Which was even more impressive than not chugging hot coffee. Yeah, Desmond's self control today was great, thank you for asking.

"Desmond, if I didn't know better, I would say that you're drunk," Lucy said.

Desmond held the cup of coffee like it was the most precious treasure imaginable. How had he not realized he missed coffee this much?

Desmond looked seriously at her. "Lucy, I have a headache, I'm mentally and physically exhausted, I'm confusing my languages, and I swear I had a nightmare in which the walls were painted with blood. I drank water from the tap last night, so either your water is drugged, which is likely considering you kidnapped me, or somehow you managed to change your water line with a magically tasteless moonshine. But what do I know?"

Desmond knew a lot, actually. He was a bartender and he was rather proud of his position. Having dexterity training helped a lot when he started out, because it drastically cut off the training time. But Desmond had no idea that learning flair bartending would actually help the other way around either. He could proudly say that he had the best accuracy with throwing knives of the eight of them, and it all had to do with bartending.

"You're exhausted-drunk, not actually drunk," Evie said amusedly. She would be taking the first shift with him that morning. Depending on how long it was, she would either stay with him the entire day, or switch with Elise. "Though I do find that you act the same regardless. At least you're cheerful today, instead of despondent."

Lucy paled when he mentioned the blood on the walls. Whoops. Tired Desmond didn't care though. Evie rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Ah. That's concerning," Lucy managed.

"It was some real horror movie stuff," Desmond agreed. Because it wasn't just the blood on the walls Sixteen had left. It was like the walls were bleeding too. Really kind of creepy.

He mournfully put the coffee down to grab his omelet. Ooooh, it had sausage and ham as well as bell peppers. Nice.

Desmond eyed Lucy thoughtfully. Hm. It'd take a lot of work in medical advancements, but Abstergo industries did have some pretty cool medical projects going on. And that was even ignoring that they were run by rich old people with delusions of godhood. Desmond wouldn't mind having Lucy's babies. They'd be real pretty. And smart.

"No, Desmond," Evie said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. The edge of her voice was filled with worry, but Evie didn't actually bring it up. Desmond was only tired, after all.

"We're getting close to what you're looking for, aren't we?" Desmond asked Lucy. "It sort of feels like we're getting close."

Completely ignoring the fact that Altair was going to reach Masyaf later that day, of course. Their lives were like a movie anyways, might as well follow all the genre tropes. A coup was like the perfect big finale in Desmond's life right now.

Lucy hummed and looked over the monitor. "Yes, we are getting closer to the memory that we need. I'd say, following the rate you've been going, that you'll reach it by either the end of the day or early tomorrow."

"End of the day, for certain," Desmond said assuredly. If not, he'd be more concerned with how slowly Altair traveled, honestly.

"Are you going to push yourself?" Lucy asked worriedly. She glanced to where Vidic was, and said more quietly, "You don't have to do that, Desmond. You have to take care of yourself."

"As much as I can, anyways," Desmond said, shrugging.

Not much he could really do when he was continually forced into the Animus. He grabbed his juice and chugged it. The coffee… well, he'd savor that for as long as possible.

Lucy, despite her worry, smiled in understanding as he gripped his coffee closer. Ah, yes, she would understand the need for caffeine, wouldn't she? Desmond hoped they knew he'd be perfectly willing to attack them if they tried to stop him from drinking it before he finished.

Altair and Malik were meant to be in Masyaf, when they started. Their people were meant to be there, to smooth things over. They had meant to gather all of the information that they had gathered over the past couple of months, detailing why Al Mualim was no longer fit to be the Mentor of the Levantine Brotherhood.

Despite the violence they expected, they did their best to make it as bloodless as possible. These were their people.

Killing Robert de Sable was easy, if tiring. Eight against one wasn't really only against one, when Altair had seven other selves fighting alongside him. It was a fight that left Altair injured, yes, but very handily victorious. It was a death that settled Altair, as he avenged the injuries laid upon Malik and Kadar. And that he protected Masyaf from this particular attack.

Talking with King Richard was… enlightening, to put it mildly. He was a sensible king, all told.

Altair actually enjoyed debating philosophy with him for the single night that Altair remained in camp. That he had been treated as an honored guest despite it all said something, Altair felt. What, he didn't quite know, but he knew better than to question such good fortune.

Since Sable was the last of the nine Al Mualim had sent Altair to kill, his return to Masyaf should have been simple. He would report of his completed assignment, and then head to the healing halls to tend to his wounds. There he would wait until Malik and the other Assassins that Altair had gathered from the Bureaus made it to Masyaf.

"Something is wrong," Ezio hissed, watching the fortress with golden eyes. "Can you feel it?"

Altair stared up the mountains. "I do," he said simply.

The fortress was bathed in smoke, golden-important and red-enemy both. But the way that the red swirled… it felt artificial, almost. Like coercion and torture.

'How dare he.' the eagle within Altair screeched in outrage. It echoed through all of them. It was a call to arms. 'How dare he.'

"The Apple," Aveline breathed, staring in horror. "Al Mualim has used the Apple on everyone in Masyaf."

Malik was still several hours away. Altair could feel him, distantly, and was relieved to feel that he was closing the distance. Kadar-

"Kadar is in there," Altair said. Kadar, and Rauf, the novices and journeymen, and Isra, the Sisters, and all the women of the gardens. They all let out several low curses.

"Did he suspect that we were planning something?" Elise asked.

"No, he couldn't have," Ezio said, and shook his head.

"It had to be the Apple," Evie said grimly, "We already know that it has an extreme negative influence on people."

"Al Mualim is a Templar," Ratonhnhaké:ton said, "Regardless of what that means to us, we know what it means to him."

"Ambition for power, compounded with the Apple's influence…" Elise trailed off.

Altair closed his eyes, and spread his awareness as far as he could over Masyaf. It was easier, here, where he had been born and raised. He knew the shapes of the stones, and the wind. He knew the people, and the animals.

There, blue, hiding and small, but still there.

"There are people in there that have not been ensnared," Altair said, opening his eyes. Now that he was aware, he could see past the red smoke and to the heart of the blue. It was small, but it was there.

"We aren't just throwing a coup anymore," Desmond said, stepping forward to grab Altair's hand. "We are fighting for our free will."

"Yes," Altair said.

He eyed the outside of the walls. Al Mualim did not have the awareness that Altair did, but he had decades of experience over him. And with the Apple, he would know the moment that Altair entered Masyaf, if he wasn't already aware that he was there.

"Al Mualim would have planned for you," Aveline said, stepping up to him to grab his other hand. The others all pressed closer, gathering their collective strength. "But he did not plan for us."

"No," Altair said grimly, "He did not."

They walked up to Masyaf, all eight of them in unison. Wings non-existent wrapped around them, connecting their eight bodies, their souls resonating with each other. Their hearts and minds focused on this singular task.

This was their territory. Masyaf was theirs. The Eagle of Masyaf was the only Eagle here, but they were also only one Eagle of many. And Masyaf was the heart of their territory. It was time to clear it of their enemies, and rid the land of trespassers. Those that were previously allowed were no longer welcome, their presence poisoning the land instead of bolstering it.

As they walked to the gates, they paused. Together, they would enter and face what was to come, as was right. But they turned to the one, two, bodies that were needed elsewhere. They did not like this, sending two of themselves out, but needs must. To go willingly would save them the trouble that would arise if they were taken forcefully.

"We will be here, still," they said, "though we do not know how it will work. We will be here."

"Yes," they agreed.

With that, they, the two that would be working on their own, distant but not separate, turned on their heels. It took only a thought to shift to where their body was being held.

"Desmond, your break is over," Lucy said quietly. She glanced at Vidic, who watched them angrily and impatiently.

They reviewed the last few minutes, lived distantly but recorded all the same. Ah, yes. Lucy and Vidic had been telling them to get back to work. They had been with themselves, and had ignored Lucy and Vidic.

"Desmond?" Lucy asked worriedly, looking up at them.

They looked to her, confused. "Yes?" they asked.

"...do you recognize me, Desmond?" Lucy asked.

They, Desmond, raised an eyebrow. They looked to them, Evie, who also looked confused at the question. "Of course I do, Lucy," Desmond said. "Why wouldn't I?"

Lucy relaxed minutely. "No particular reason. You just weren't acting normally."

Desmond blinked at her, and then looked to Evie again. Yes, that did make sense. The eight of them normally didn't allow their walls down so thoroughly. It blended their personalities and collective perception, and made them all act oddly to those that knew them. It was because they were all incredibly stubborn individuals that they didn't keep their walls down more often.

"I'm myself, I promise," Desmond said.

Even if it would take only the barest of thoughts for Desmond and Evie to return to the others. Though, Lucy was perhaps worried about the Bleeding Effect? That made sense. If one weren't aware of the eight of them, it would be very easy to confuse the two. Especially since all of their thoughts were currently directed at Masyaf.

"I'm glad," Lucy said softly. She had become more and more blue over the last couple of days, Altair noted. She truly did care about Desmond, even if she was using him.

Ah, there it was. Desmond was more settled into himself, though their collective bond was still incredibly wide open. It would be so easy to return to the others, but Desmond had a task to do. Even if it was one he would rather not do at all.

"Hurry up, Mister Miles," Vidic said, glaring impatiently at him. "We don't have all day now."

"If you're ready, Desmond," Lucy said, and went back to her spot at the Animus monitor.

Desmond and Evie shared a glance. They were as ready as they would ever be. Desmond sighed and followed after Lucy.

0o0o0

Altair walked through the gates of the village, filled with trepidation.

It was too quiet. There weren't any of the usual sounds. No chickens, no dogs barking, no sounds of work as people moved around. He couldn't hear the shriek of children, or the footsteps of the people as they walked. Nothing. It was just… silent.

He walked forward, senses strained as he tried to figure out what was going on. It took several minutes of cautious walking, but he saw a villager as he reached the main square. But other than that singular person, everywhere else was simply… empty.

He walked up to the villager. "What happened here?" he asked softly. It was hard to break the unnatural silence. "Where is everyone?"

"Gone to see the Master," the villager said simply. He sounded… normal? As if today was just another day.

"Was it the Templars?" Altair asked. Had there been an attack? That would explain why there was no one there. Though, if they did, Altair didn't see any signs of a battle. "Did they attack again?"

"They walk the path," the villager said.

"What path?" Altair asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The path towards the light," the villager said, awe in his voice.

"What?"

"There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth." the villager said, as if reciting scripture.

"You've lost your mind," Altair said, and shook his head.

The villager looked at him. "You too will walk the path. Or you will perish. So the Master commands."

"It was Al Mualim, wasn't it?" Altair demanded. He had expected the betrayal, and yet it still hurt. "What has he done to you?"

"Praise be to the Master, for he has led us to the light!" the villager exclaimed.

...Useless. Altair moved past the man, intent on making it to the fortress. Even as he got closer, the village remained empty. Where was everyone?

"The will of the Master must be obeyed," the villager said.

Altair glanced back at him, and saw that the singular villager had been joined by others. As they gathered, so did the nonsense they said.

"Only speak, Master, and show us the path."

"Al Mualim! Guide us! Command us!"

"What is wrong with you?" Altair demanded, speaking despite himself. "Your minds are your own, why do you beg for guidance when you can make your own decisions? Why have you now decided to ask Al Mualim for said guidance, when Masyaf had stood for years before without it?"

"We cannot stray from the path," a villager said, voice distant.

Altair looked around. Their faces were all the same. Blank, and distant, and they moved listlessly as if… very carefully, he refrained from throwing up. An actual attack would be preferable to this. It was as if the souls of the villagers had been stolen.

This was… No. Altair refused to let this stand. He ran past the villagers and up the path that led to the fortress. Al Mualim would pay for what he had done.

Altair would not allow any less.

0o0

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