Part One

Chapter 13

The attic is quiet, dark save for the light of the swirl and machinery. The computers are on, broadcasting words and numbers and levels but I ignore it. I ignore everything as I creep carefully into the room. Ken waits outside, still slightly hysterical and absolutely refusing to step back into the attic until he's sure he won't be killed.

Killed by what?

I'm not sure. We hadn't been able to get him to say anything coherent. The others wait with him, roused from sleep at the ass crack of dawn by his nearly hysterical shouts. Except for Altaïr. He trails behind me, just as carefully and a lot more silent that I can ever hope to be.

True to Ken's words, there are two.

Two floating swirls twinkling innocently next to each other. They're identical. Same size and shape except the one on the left has noticeably redder hues. It mixes with the blue of the first swirl, casting a purple glow across the room. Other than that the swirl does nothing as it floats there, though it's not the swirl Ken's afraid of.

But the figure standing next to it.

He stands tall, proud, ready to defend even though he's in—extremely—unfamiliar territory and more than a little confused. Seeing him like this, young and healthy and not weighed down with grief and struggling to understand his purpose in life like I'd last seen him fills me with something so light.

It's like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders and the images of him as an old and weary man melts away as I stare at him.

Assassin's Creed: Revelations.

Seeing him like that, old and just completely lost had torn me apart from the inside out—never mind what seeing Altaïr peacefully die in his old age had done to me. But seeing them both now, alive, healthy, and young chases the lingering sadness away because, before me, stands Ezio.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze.

"I guess that answers that," I tell Altaïr as he comes to stand next to me at the top of the stairs. I don't have to look back to know he's ready for any attack to come. I know that he stands ready, legs spread and knees bent as he looks Ezio over. "Look, it's late. I'm tired, we've been through a lot of shit today, so just tell me. Do you know why Minerva keeps sending you guys our way?"

"No?"

"Damn," I curse, turning back to Altaïr with a pout on my lips. I don't bother to balk or stare at Ezio. Dealing with Altaïr has already taught me that it's better to treat them like normal human beings than lethal Assassins. "I was so close to getting an answer. Just a few more minutes and I would have had everything I needed to know. Fucking hell!"

"Jen!"

Mother's voice bounces off the wall, overshadowing Father's warning call, as she climbs the stairs, angrily tucking her robe around. I have only seconds to duck behind Altaïr as Mother's hand strikes out. I'm just lucky enough to dodge out from under the hand reaching for my ear but nothing stops the scolding.

"How many times must I warn you about that foul language of yours, young lady?" Mother asks, hands on her hips as she towers over us even though she's, honestly, not that tall. She only reaches Altaïr's chest but even he shrinks away from her anger. "One more foul word while you're under this roof and I will wash your mouth out with soap, is that understood."

"Mom," I try weakly but the fire in her gaze has me ducking fully behind Altaïr and swearing with everything I have that will obey.

"Good," she says, fixing the robe more securely around herself. "Now, what were you so close to finding out?" she asks just as Father races up the stairs himself, a little panicked, and pulls her behind him to shield her from danger. "Oh, would you stop it. If he," she says, exasperated as she point Ezio's way, "didn't kill Ken—because we all know anyone from their timeline is fully capable of killing us all in our sleep let alone taking out someone before they can alert others—then he's not going to kill us, right?"

"No?" Ezio says as Mother turns her expectant gaze his way. The answer comes out more like a question but it seems to satisfy her. She's the only one, though. If that was supposed to make anyone feel better it failed.

Miserably.

"Great," Mother chirps, tucking stray strands of blond hair behind her ears as she moves out from behind Father. "Now, Jen, what were you close to getting an answer for?" Mother asks sweetly. I don't know if she's ignoring the elephant in the room because she's more interested in what I have to say or because it's definitely too early to deal with Minerva's bullshit.

Too bad all of this is Minerva's bullshit.

"I think we should deal with him first," I say as I point to the Assassin looking more than a little lost. He eyes roam around the room, trying to make sense of what's happening. They never settle for long as he tries to take everything in.

"You guys take care of that," Father says as he moves to his computers, dragging a slightly reluctant Kenny into the attic and towards the computers. "Ken and I will see about the swirls."

"Oh sure, choose the less violent option," Mother mumbles, arms crossing over her chest and a pout coming to her lips but Father just presses a quick kiss to her cheek with a chuckle. "Don't forget you have work at ten, Mister. I expect you washed, shaved, and dress by nine."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good, now you two," she says, turning her attention to Altaïr and me. I'm still hiding behind him but I poke my head out from my cover so Mother knows I'm listening. "Look at those eye bags. You two look like you're about to keel over. As soon as this is finish you two will be off to bed. No buts!"

"But mom," I complain anyway, making my eyes large and wide and just the tad bit watery. I do it just for the sake of whining and snicker when she throws a murderous glare my way. "Okay, okay. We'll go to bed, promise."

Altaïr nods he's compliance

"A…another one?" Father says, then, gathering our attention. His eyebrows are drawn together as he stares hard at the swirls, almost as if he's waiting for them to spill all their secrets. "One is amazing, exciting, but two…two is suspicious, ominous," he mutters as he inspects the second swirl.

Ezio's attention also turns to the swirl, hand reaching out for the blue one, but Ken stops him. His sudden, unexpected, hysterical and fearful reaction gone now that the shock has worn off. Seriously, an Assassin popping out from out of nowhere would scare anyone shitless. Especially if it's the in the middle of the night and you're all alone.

Hell, even I ran when Altaïr first appeared.

But I had been okay afterward. Even made him clean up his mess. So now that the shock has worn off, nothing stops Ken from latching onto Ezio's arm and stopping the idiot can get himself pulled into Altaïr's world.

"Don't," he cries as he pulls Ezio away. He could stop Ken, we all know he could have but Ezio lets himself be led away from the swirl and towards us. "Here, they'll explain what's going on. Then you can go gallivanting across time and space."

Ezio shoots him a weird look at that, making me wonder why he, fresh from the swirl, can understand us when Altaïr hadn't been able too. Well, at least he couldn't understand Ken until Ken had jumped through the swirl too.

"I'm Jennifer," I tell him, pushing that particular mystery aside since I already have too many on my plate to take that one on as well. "This is Altaïr. Yes, The Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Eagle of Masyaf, Son of None, The Grand Master but that's a mouthful so you can just call him Altaïr. We all do," I tell him, completely done with subtly. If Minerva wanted subtly she wouldn't have thrown him, head first, into my world. "This is my mother Anna, that's my father Alexander, and the blonde over there is Kenny.

"Now, you've jumped roughly six hundred years into the future, with the help of that," I tell him as I point to the red swirl. "Don't ask us why it's there or how it happen, 'cause we still haven't figured it out ourselves. Well, we haven't figured out the technicalities of it but it was put there but a woman called Minerva. You probably saw her before you got here.

"That aside, we know who you are, Ezio Auditore da Firenze. We know what you are, Mister Assassin and we're here to help," I tell him, taking his arm and leading him back to the swirl. He comes willingly and I bet that's more because he's confused beyond belief than any actual trust on his part. "Now, to get home, you just jump through and hope you don't break your neck. Okay? Okay. Bye, have a good day."

"Jen!"

I flinch as everyone but Altaïr shouts my name.

"Fine, fine," I grumble as I let go Ezio's arm and back away from the swirl. I've already learned my lesson about standing closer than strictly necessary when it comes to them. The last thing I need is to take a trip to renaissance Italy….

Wait.

That doesn't sound too bad actually.

"No Jen," Ken says, hand landing on my shoulder when he sees me inching towards the red swirl. Seems he's on swirl duty, then. Well, Idiot duty would be a better word for it. Once he's sure I won't throw myself head first into trouble he turns back to Father. "Right as the swirl opened, there was a bright light—there! You see that? I'm not sure what kind of energy that was but the system seems to have picked it up."

"Ezio Auditore, eh?" Mother says as she turns her gaze to me. "Is this the one you're constantly raving about and calling a—what was it, dear?" she asks turning to Father causing cold dread to pool in my stomach. Father turns at her words, giving Ezio a stare of his own.

"A slut, honey, I believe our darling Jennifer called this fine man a slut," he hisses out and if I could die of embarrassment I'd be six feet under by now. But I'm not that lucky so, as I feel a stare burning a hole in my back, I take cover behind Altaïr.

And if Father and Mother hadn't been so preoccupied—one with staring at Ezio and the other trying to figure out the swirl—I'm sure they would have commented on the away Altaïr tenses and shifts his legs apart. He's getting into his fighting stance so I bury myself into his back to keep him from doing anything stupid.

I do not need two Assassins decking it out in my attic.

"Um, Mr. Hernandez," Kenney calls, politely—even though he's been told time and time again to quit it—thankfully drawing Father's gaze from Ezio. "You should take a look at this," he mutters. I peek out from behind Altaïr to watch Ken hand him a datapad. "They're identical, ripped at the same force and speed," Kenny says as he points to something on the pad while Mother continues to stare at Ezio. "I believe The Light and its Energy might have been present the first time as while."

Ezio who looks more than a little confused as he stares at all of us.

"So what is its purpose?" Father asks as he looks at the datapad. "It didn't behave erratically, nor did it shoot out in all directions. The energy had an intended target, so what was it and what did it do?"

"Jennifer, honey," Mother calls, bringing my attention back to her. "Why don't you and Altaïr take Mr. Auditore downstairs so your father and Kenny can work in peace?" Mother suggests, sweet smile in place, but the look in her eyes has me nodding instantly. "Well then, breakfast will be in one hour and I expect everyone there," she says with a pointed look to the two by the swirls before turning sharply and exiting the attic. "We'll discuss things then."

"Right, um, Ezio?" I call, having to fight to keep myself from shrinking back behind Altaïr as Ezio turns to me with a glare. It's the wrong thing to do apparently. The quiet snick of a hidden blade sounds around the room like a gunshot. "Altaïr!" I yelp, grabbing a hold of his hand. "Put that away before Mother sees it!"

The blade is sheathed in a second. The threat of Mother is just too much. Altaïr hasn't been around her that much but he's seen enough to know that she means business.

"Come with me and I will explain—in detail—what is going on," I promise Ezio as I motion to the door.

His only answer is a nod and he follows after us as we exit the room.

We make it all the way to the living room without an accident but the tension is still high. Especially, since Altaïr won't settle down. His gaze is glued onto Ezio almost as if he's challenging him to make the first move.

Unfortunately, Ezio looks dangerously close to doing just that.

Shit.

"Sit, please," I say, ushering Altaïr onto Mother's crème colored loveseat before taking a seat next to him. Ezio moves to the recliner without taking his gaze off of Altaïr, causing me to I curse internally. How am I going to explain this if Ezio won't lower his guard?

He's waiting for an attack that won't come. An attack from Altaïr specifically. With another internal curse—I'm not about to take Mother up on her promise—I realize that I'm going to need Altaïr to leave if I want Ezio to relax.

If he doesn't there isn't a chance that he'll believe me when I tell him what's going on.

"Hey, Altaïr, um, why don't you give mom a hand?" I ask innocently, trying not to fidget when he gives me that look that questions my intelligence. "He won't listen with you here. You can just stand in the dining room if you want," I say under my breath, words almost inaudible. He hears them though and exits the room with a nod. "Um, I'm sorry about Altaïr, he's just a bit overprotective."

"And with a good reason, I would be as protective as him with a young lady such as yourself," he says, voice just so sweet, smooth that it makes me want to barf. Really? I don't know whether to be insulted or impressed. He's been here for less than an hour and he's already hitting on someone. "So tell me, beautiful, where am I?"

Well, at least this one speaks English...I think. For all I know we could all be speaking in Italian.

Quiet curses and silent muttering waft in from the next room—the dining room. I snicker quietly as I hear Mother's voice. Even though I can't hear the words the tone obviously says that someone—Altaïr—is being scolded.

I wonder if she's brave enough to wash out his mouth...

Yeah, she is.

"What's that last thing you remember before you ended up here?" I ask, turning my attention back to the situation at hand. I need to find out where the swirl opened up and if it'll be a problem. Not that we'll be able to close it but I rather know if we'll need to be on our guard than wait for an attack to happen.

"Running across the rooftops of Monteriggioni," he says, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe even a tad bit in frustration but his voice is calm when he asks, "Why?"

I bite my lips as I think of a way to tell him that he's in the United States of America. I'm not sure if American has even been founded in his time yet. Or, if it has, how widespread the news of the New World is.

Maybe, up front, like I did with Altaïr, would be best.

"As I already told you, you've traveled to the future. The swirl you've come through has spat you out six hundred years in the future. Take a look around you, Ezio, does any of this look strange?" I ask, motioning to the room around me.

For the first time since we walked into the room, Ezio lets his eyes roam around the room. I watch the way they linger on the turned off television. But he doesn't know it's a television—a fifty-two-inch plasma—because he doesn't know what a television is. All he sees is a black box hanging on the wall.

"Watch," I whisper, grabbing the control on the coffee table. Once his eyes turn to me I point the control to the plasma, powering it on. The screen lights up instantly. A familiar—to me—yellow sponge comes on the screen screaming for his lost snail.

SpongeBob?

"How did this happen? How is this even possible?"

"Minerva," I whisper, shutting off the plasma as Ezio jumps from his seat. If he knows her or not, I'm not sure, but he still mouths the name as he stares around the room. "I'm not sure how or why she did it but she sent you here for a reason. Did she tell you what needs to be done?"

"No," he says, eyes still roaming the room curiously.

"What did she say?"

"She said you are in need of my help," he says, brown eyes locking with mine. There's something about them that gives me chills. They're blank, emotionless, almost as if someone else speaking and he's just the puppet as he says, "That time is running out. She can't see you or the others. You evade her calculations. Your choices and decisions cannot be seen so I have been sent as a failsafe."

"The failsafe for what?"

"I do not know."

No more is said on the subject. Ezio snaps back to himself with those words, looking a little dazed. Once back to normal, though, he returns to inspecting the room. It's then that I find out just exactly why Altaïr hasn't asked anything about our Technological Advances. As I follow Ezio around the house, answering question after question, I realize that the reason Altaïr hadn't shown any interest is because he didn't care.

He's from the Medieval Era. Science just didn't fly during that time. It was love your God and accept him as the answer for everything or be killed. While I understand that Assassin's teachings were not as severe they still had their God.

Still believed in their afterlife.

So since Altaïr comes from a time were science was shunned and asking questions could very well get you killed, he remains uninterested. Asks absolutely no questions about computers or Televisions or lights or cars. Just accepts it and moves on. While Ezio, who comes from the time of great advancements in almost all things science, leaves no stone unturned.

"Hey, no, stop. That's fragile," I yelp, snatching my phone from his hands as he starts smashing the screen. "Like this, gently," I tell him, running my finger across the screen, unlocking it. "It's for communication, see?"

I dial the home phone, sending it ringing. He stares at it, eyes wide, and reaches for it carefully. His hands are gentle this time as he scoops it off the coffee table. He eyes it, unsure of what to do.

"Click the green button," I tell him and, when he does, I motion for him to hold it to his ear. "See, it helps us communicate from great distances instantly. No more having to wait for a courier. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Incredible."

See, I don't mind showing him my world. Explaining to him how things work isn't the problem. His small attention span is. Once his curiosity with the phone is settled he just lets it go. Fingers go lax as something else catches his attention and I have to dive towards the phone to keep it from crashing onto the floor.

"What is this?"

I turn to find him staring at Father's model of a 1967 Chevy Impala. It sits on the bookcase, proudly displayed beside Mother's Supernatural paraphernalia—Mother likes the show, Father likes the car—and my heart just about stops as I see him reaching for it.

"Wait, wait, wait," I cry, shooting forward. I latch onto his arm before he can grab it. "That's a model of a car. Um, it's like a carriage just without the horses," I tell him when he gives me a confused look. "It runs by itself and is a lot faster too. They're outside if you want to see them."

Getting him away from anything breakable is now the priority.

"That will have to wait for later," Mother says, emerging from the kitchen robe free. She's still in pajamas though, clueing me into just how tired she is because Mother's always dressed to impress. "Breakfast is ready so why don't you help Altaïr set the table while I grab the boys."

She doesn't wait for me to reply, just leaves the room because she knows I won't object.

"Okay," I answer anyways and usher Ezio into the dining room. No way am I leaving him alone with so many breakable objects laying around. I seat him at the table before going into the Kitchen, smile on my face when I spot Altaïr scrubbing at some pots.

"Thank you."

I'm not too sure what I'm thanking him for but I feel like it needs to be said. Altaïr just nods, seeming to understand what I can't explain. I continue to smile up at him as I gather the plates. After drying his hands, he takes them from me and waits for me to get the utensils before we make our way to the dining room.

Only to find Ezio on top of the table, one hand clamp onto the Chandelier while the other reaches for one of it's lightbulbs.

"No, don't!"

But it's too late, he jumps back, burnt and cursing from more than that as his footing slips on the polished wood. He keeps his hold on the Chandelier in the hopes of regaining his balance but it turns out to be a bad idea as the ceiling gives.

"Do all Assassins have a thing against Chandeliers?"

Ezio is fine, the distance between the Chandelier and the table isn't enough to cause serious injury—except to his ego—especially with his armor. The glass doesn't even shatter, it's fall cushioned by Ezio's body but the table creaks ominously.

"Here, let's get this off him before he really breaks it," I tell Altaïr, motioning for him to dump the plates onto a nearby chair. "Don't move," I warn Ezio as we carefully heft the Chandelier off him and move it to the floor. "Okay, tell me the truth. Does anything hurt?"

"I am fine," Ezio says, a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he sits up. "Just had the wind knocked out of me," he says as he shifts off the table meekly and stares at the mess he's made. "I would like to apologize—"

"Apologize to mom, not me," I tell him as I scoop the utensils off the chair and head back into the kitchen. "Guess we'll eat in the Kitchen. The table's not as big but there's no choice. Come. Both of you."

They follow me obediently and, together, we set the table in silence. The silence that is shattered by a loud gasp and the kitchen door being thrown open.

"Jen!"

"My apologies, Madam," Ezio says when Mother marches into the room, the others trailing behind her. The anger on her face is unmistakable as her gaze lands on me. "It was I who brought down your Chandelier. I will pay for the reparations necessary to make sure that it is returned to its former condition."

Mother stares at him for a long while, unsure how to handle the situation. She's used to children trying to worm their way out of a scolding, not men seeking to right their wrongs. She looks around the room, lost before returning her gaze back to Ezio.

"Um, yes. Well, that should be fine," she mutters a light blush on her cheeks before she clears her throat. "There's nothing for it now, though, so how about we just get to it?"

"Will he really pay for the damages?" Altaïr asks, voice a whisper as we move to take our seats. He ends up on my right, seated close to Father who takes his usual seat at the head of the table.

"Doubt it," I whisper back when I catch the smirk on Ezio faces as Mother lets the whole situation slide. "He doesn't even have a place to live."

Once gathered around the table Mother sets out the bowls loaded with food and everyone helps themselves. Well, everyone but Altaïr who ends getting his own plate of preservative-free food set in front of him with a kind smile from Mother.

"Thank you, Mrs. Anna."

"Oh dear, I've already told. Anna's just fine," Mother says as she swipes Ezio's plate before he can dig in. She sets another plate of preservative-free food in front of him before he can complain. "You boys make me feel so old when you call me that," she says, gaze pointed directly at Ken who just shuffles in his seat before she takes her own seat. "Now Jen, what have you learned?"

I recount my dream that I believe was more than just a simple dream and what I've managed to learn from Ezio. No one interrupts as I talk and I silently note that Alexis is nowhere to be found. I shrug it off though, figuring he's either too busy with school work or sleeping.

"You ever think Minerva's going to come to the realization that we can't really help her until she tells us what she wants?" Ken asks, pushing the eggs around on his plate. "We're not psychics here and unless she gives us some more information the best she's going to get is us fumbling around."

"Maybe she can't?" Mother offers as she takes a sip of coffee, black and unsweetened. The tartness helps to wake her up as she offers up explanations. "Maybe she can only have a few seconds with them so she has to choose the best things to say and then send them on their way?"

"How long would it take to say,'hey, let them know they need to grab the apple' or something?" I ask, incredulously and Ken nods in agreement.

"Maybe she can't," Father offers up with a shrug as he dumps sugar by the bucket load into his coffee. "If you're messing around with your timeline and ripping open wormholes, your primary concern would be keeping everything stable. Maybe saying the wrong thing can cause everything to spiral out of control. Especially, since she can't seem to see what our actions would be."

"If she can't see us, how would she know that could happen?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"She can't see what we will do but she can see their actions," Father says with a nod towards the Assassins. "They're keeping track of us through their actions. She can't see you but she can see Altaïr, can probably hear him and, while the conversation is one-sided, what you say wouldn't be hard to guess at," Father theorizes. "She can't see us but can guess at our actions and what she must have seen if she outright told us must not have been pretty.

"Imagine it," Father says, taking a sip of his coffee. "A man comes up to, one you don't know, and tells you a mysterious woman has sent them to you because she needs you to drop everything and go with him to defeat some unseen evil. What would you do?" he asks though he doesn't wait for a reply before continuing, "You would call the cops or a mental institution and the man would be locked up, never to see his own universe again. Causing it to crumble in on itself, spiral out of control, or end up in a horrible condition.

"So, instead, she sends you a lost soul. Once just as confused and clueless as you are to pique your interest so much so that you might even follow him back into his world because you're a curious soul," he reasons, taking a break to sip at his coffee. No one talks during his pause. "She must have run this simulation a thousand times, maybe even millions, if not billions. Trying out person after person until she found the one so invested in his universe that they would go to hell and back to do what needed to be done. And even then, telling you everything might have turned out to be too risky. So, instead, she keeps you guessing because she knows you'll always come to the right conclusion.

"Because she knows that you'll do everything, give everything, to save her world," he says, eyes locking with mine. There's so much conviction in them that my heartbeat soars. "You were chosen, handpicked from billions of others, to do what needs to be done because only you would be able to do it with only a handful of clues.

"Because only you can do what others couldn't. And whatever that is, it won't be pretty."