Assassin's Creed: Apotheosis

By: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer:

Assassin's Creed belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft. I am only borrowing them for my own amusement and that of my muses and fans. I will return them a bit battered, but otherwise unharmed (mostly).

Story:

Chapter 25 – Blade

At least I won't be skewered, Desmond thought as he watched his ancestor with wary eyes, keeping himself relaxed but at the same time at an alerted state. Altaїr had at least recognized that his combat abilities were sporadic at best and at the very least, he only had been able to do the things he did in recent days under great duress. So to Desmond it felt like a back-to-basics class and that meant no vambraces with hidden blades on them.

For whatever reason, he had thought that Altaїr had always worn the one blade on his left hand in the design that made him lose his ring finger, but he had seen his ancestor remove a bracer from his right hand, something that had been well hidden under the sleeves of his clothing.

"Huh…don't know why I pegged you as a single-bladed fighter in this day and age," he commented.

"That is why most underestimate me," Altaїr replied with a hint of the smugness that Desmond long recognized from so long ago. He remembered that Malik and the others – no not him; Altaїr, the same man standing in front of him. Altaїr then, he could feel something concede and was inwardly surprised.

"Desmond?" Ezio prompted and he realized he had been staring at nothing in particular for a second.

"Uh, nothing, just," Desmond waved at his head, "I think I won like a round or something with the Bleeding…with the Animus? I don't know how the hell it works."

There was an audible sigh of irritation from Altaїr and Desmond shook his head, "I know, I know, inattention will get me nowhere and by now I'd probably be dead-Whoa!" He suddenly found his world turned upside down, as a leg swept through his own and barely caught himself from landing onto the hard sand-covered ground of the small training sale that was carved into the cave system. Rolling to the side he picked himself back up only to give a somewhat strangled yell as the air rushed out of him, kneed in the stomach before the lightest tap of the blade of a hand touched his neck.

"By now, your nose would have been broken, the bone shards piercing your brain. The blade would have just been the coup de grace in the kill," Altaїr said as Desmond coughed before straightening, feeling a twinge of pain run through his stomach as he stared at his ancestor who had stepped away from him. He understood that the knee had not been meant for his stomach at all, but rather the assassin had aimed lower just to prove his point.

He did not expect any special treatment and Desmond pursed his lips, straightening fully before dropping into a fighting stance, his hands held up in front of him, thumbs across the middle curled part of his fingers, ready. He saw the images of the Masyaf training salle in his mind, distorting the real image in front of him and quickly grabbed the training period Ezio had went through, balancing the two out.

"You can control it, Desmond. You know you can," Ezio's voice called out from where he was watching the two of them fight.

"How?" he called back, but dared not take his eyes off of Altaїr, the echo of his living ancestor resonating in him that he should be aware of everything around him, as opponents could circle him, but also aware of the immediate threat. "How did-" he barely managed to duck under a quick jab before trying to pivot and strike back, but his muscles, unused to combat even though he knew what to do, responded sluggishly, "-you guys – oof – control the Apple?" His last words were a little strangled as he found himself dumped to the ground again and remembered at the last second to tuck his head and relax his shoulders so not to give himself whiplash and a concussion.

He rolled to his feet again, brushing some of the dirt off and resumed his fighting stance again. "You know, it was hell of a lot easier when I was in the Animus being you two."

"Too much talking Desmond," Ezio chided, "we can tell that you know what to do and that your muscles are unused to the movements, but if you let yourself go-"

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of not having the Bleeding Effect take me over?" Desmond stepped back, blocking a blow before trying to counter with his own. He could see that Altaїr was holding himself back, going at a slower pace, but still nonetheless trapped his arm and extended it across his own chest. He felt the pressure against the joints of his elbow before Altaїr released the arm, indicating that he would have already broken it. So far, they really had been fighting he would have had a broken nose, pierced brain from the nose shards, broken hips from falling, possibly a twisted ankle from being swept to the ground, and a broken elbow. I am the epitome of a walking wounded, if not dead, he mentally groused as he stepped back and fell into a fighting stance once more.

"If you start talking in Italian or Arabic, we'll just knock you out for real until you regain your senses," his Italian ancestor replied in the most blasé voice ever.

"Your apprentices must have hated you back in the fifteen-hundreds."

"La Volpe, Niccolo, and the others handled new recruits and their training. Are you already forgetting how I operated?"

"Good point," Desmond remembered that when he had been Ezio, the man operated on a solo basis, though he had allies who helped him, he mostly did not train recruits. He had a sense that Ezio had sent out recruits on missions, but most of their training was done by the others of the Order. Releasing the mental grip he had of the Monteriggioni training salle, he allowed the Masyaf one to fill his mind just as Altaїr attacked again and this time, he saw it.

It was one of his, no, one of Altaїr's favorite moves, ones he had performed countless times while in the Animus. A low profile move designed to kill by breaking the knee caps before slicing the blade across the victim's throat, instantly silencing him without too much noise. He knew the counter move and twisted his body just so hooking his leg around Altaїr's, seeing the quick flash of surprise on the assassin's face before attempting to grab his arm.

His hands closed on empty air before he realized what had happened and suddenly found himself swept to the ground once more, but managed to catch himself with an arm on the ground and rolled to his right, where he knew where Altaїr would be and kicked out, feeling his leg connect with its intended target and the quietest of growls of surprise from his target. He leapt to his feet and raised his arms in a quick block, jabbing back with his left fist.

The jab was met with an elbow block before he twisted a little to avoid the subsequent blow and attempted to knee his target in the stomach. It was like fighting a mirror, he supposed as he could somehow sense and feel the blows before they were ever there. His muscles were still sluggish which bothered him because he knew that they should not be like that – they are! – but he would be able to compensate to fight this doppelganger in front of him. No! It was not a doppelganger- his thoughts were cut off as his opponent grabbed his knee and tried to twist him to the ground, but he fought him off by breaking his grip on the soft bending part of the elbow. At the same time, he tried to head butt him, but his target danced backwards, out of reach before he advanced forward.

His left hand twitched and it was only when he did not hear the familiar snick of the blade releasing itself from its holster or hear anything from there that all of his thoughts screeched to a halt and Desmond, my name is Desmond, froze as he found himself staring dumbly at his left arm, where the familiar vambrace should have been sitting under his hoodie. His mind felt empty, devoid of all emotions, thoughts, whispers of ancient ancestors-

That precious second of inattention cost him as he suddenly found himself grabbed from behind in a bear hug. Desmond reacted on pure instinct and moved, bending his knees while at the same time jabbing his right elbow back hitting Altaїr's solar plexus. His left arm came up in a move that broke the grip the master assassin had on him before stomping his foot down on the instep. In less than a second, he was free, spinning away before settling in a fighting stance.

However, Altaїr did not attack and instead had straightened, though one hand was across his stomach, but the man did not show any sign of discomfort. However, the part of Desmond that was Altaїr felt a little smug at actually managing to hurt the living one enough so that he felt it. Desmond managed to shove that smugness to the side of his mind before the master assassin could read it in his expression.

"That was new," Ezio hopped off of the flattened stalagmite he had been sitting on and walked over, waving to Desmond to relax and he did, but was still a little wary of a surprise attack of sorts. "Where did you learn that?"

"I…uh…one of my patrons a couple of years ago taught me a couple of basic self-defense moves?" Desmond did not know what happened, but he realized that neither Ezio nor Altaїr had ever used a move like that. The faint memory of fighting guards in a souk in Damascus floated across his consciousness. Altaїr would have never allowed a guard to get that close to him even when he was ambushing him. There would have been a counter, whether through the bracers or with a sword.

"Instead of turning away to set up for another attack, turn into the attacker and use your blade," Altaїr commented quietly, "you let the Bleeding take over."

"I know," Desmond pursed his lips and shook his head, "thought for a second that I was really fighting as you…"

His ancestor did not say anything except to give him a look that plainly said he was complaining. It was the same look he had seen in Victorian England – no, Arden had seen – when she had been training with him. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead, trying to alleviate the headache that had formed in between his eyes. Open them again, he saw that Altaїr had settled himself into a fighting stance again and that Ezio had sat back down, watching them with an eerily eagle-like gaze.

"Again," the Arabic assassin called out and Desmond settled himself into a fighting stance once more.

The assassin attacked once more, punching him straight in the face. Desmond blocked with his arm, retaliating with an elbow strike only to miss, his momentum carrying him forward. He tried to twist into another attack like Altaїr had said a few seconds ago, but was trapped with a foot touching his knee and putting some pressure on the kneecap itself indicating that it would have been a break. He could imagine the rest of the scenario, break the knee, and slice the blade across the throat as the person fell forward.

The pressure relented and Desmond stepped back, resuming his stance.

"Focus," the master assassin said before attacking him again.

This time, Desmond tried to move out of the way only for Altaїr to advance forward so quickly that he recognized the way the master assassin's arms were crossed, indicating that if he had both of his blades activated, they would have scissor his throat in two, a move that he had used many times as Ezio.

His ancestor stepped back again and stared at him, "Why are you hesitating?"

"I'm not!" Desmond could feel the frustration from all of his ancestors Bleeding into him, magnifying his own. He was trying, could they not see it? He was trying, but his muscles, unused to actual combat were not cooperating with him! He could see the moves, see the finishing attacks, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it!

"You are afraid," the lilting accent of British Received Pronunciation made him turn to see Arden walking towards them, dressed in nearly the same clothes he wore. He suddenly saw stars as his world tilted upside down and he smashed to the ground, hitting the side of his head against the rocky ground.

"Ow," Desmond managed to croak out as he blinked the stars out of his eyes and saw Altaїr's feet stepping back and knew that the assassin had taken advantage of his distracted state to attack him and punish him for his inattention. He turned his head a little and saw that it was indeed Arden, walking towards them, hale and healthy looking unlike her prone pale form he had seen in the hospital room in what seemed like days ago, but was only a few hours before.

Pushing himself up from the floor, he sat and rubbed the side of his head, feeling bits and pieces of sand and rocky pebbles fall out of his hair as he noticed that Altaїr had finally stepped out of his fighting stance and gave a cursory nod to Arden.

"I am well, Altaїr," Arden had a neutral expression on her face and it puzzled Desmond as to why. He would have almost called the expression cold and distant if it had not been for what he had seen between former master and apprentice. But glancing over to the Arabic assassin he also noticed that Altaїr wore a neutral expression and nodded once. "Hello, Ezio," this time there was a definitely warmth to Arden's tone as she turned a bit to address the Italian ancestor.

"Madonna," Ezio grinned from where he sat, "it is good to see that you are well. Did…?"

"Tabitha," was her reply before both Altaїr and Ezio nodded, "I have sent her away for now."

"Bene," Ezio flicked an absent hand towards Desmond, "the young pup would not like it."

Desmond could only guess at the reference to Tabitha was probably a reference to the Lance of Longinus that she carried and wondered if Arden had sensed something or what was going on in the last hour or so with his nightmares. He still did not know if the Lance was Arden's Piece of Eden or how it had gotten from Jack's hands to hers, but he was grateful that she had seemingly sent Tabitha away. He did not need the creepy rotting corpse girl to be anywhere near here, and he most certainly did not want to see the Lance right now, not with what had happened still so fresh in his mind.

He was a little more than annoyed that he had been referred to as a 'young pup' by Ezio, but since it seemed that both of his ancestors were not inclined to attack him or give him 'encouragement' he took the brief respite as a chance to catch his breath. He could feel the initial headache he had gotten in the cafeteria growing a little, pressing upon him. It wasn't debilitating yet, and he certainly wasn't seeing any ghostly images around him, but the added presence of his ancestors in front of him coupled with the recent trauma he had witnessed was making him uneasy.

Arden's quiet footsteps, ones he had remembered walking around Victorian Era London in, made him look up from where he sat. She peered down at him, her eyes holding none of the too-old look both Ezio and Altaїr wore, yet they were not youthful ones anymore. There were something about her light brown eyes that seemed familiar, but he could not quite place what it was. However, this close to him, he could see that she looked a little like him, yet was probably the least similar, in appearance, to his other two ancestors. There were definite signs that she came from their bloodline, but she looked more like Maria and Claudia Auditore than Ezio or Altaїr.

He could feel the faint swirl of her memories Bleeding into him, whispering, but it wasn't as strong of a presence as his other two ancestors. She extended a hand out to help him up and he lifted his own before he suddenly felt a flash of warning from the presence that was her in his head – don't! – disappearing just as quickly before he remembered. He…no, she had experienced nearly the same thing while she had trained with Altaїr, with Andrew.

Her smile at his hesitation made him dizzy as he felt her presence Bleed a little more into him; the same exact smile that Andrew had worn, when she was wise to his actions during their sparring time. "I can see myself," she commented as he slowly got up, brushing some of the dirt and sand from his pants, squeezing his eyes shut to try to stem the Bleeding. He had not lived her life he, he knew that, but with her in front of him, it seemed to exacerbate the Bleeding. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Altaїr step back to let his former apprentice take over while Ezio had shifted positions and was watching them with something akin to laughter written all over his face.

He had the same expression when Stephen and I fought, he remembered before grimacing a little. It wasn't he that had fought with Stephen Miles; she had fought with Stephen way back then.

"You are afraid," she said again, circling him before attacking with two quick jabs. He backed away, blocking them as best as he could. Her attack was unlike both of his ancestors and for some odd reason, he could not quite comprehend them. "Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not," he replied as she attacked again, kicking high before spinning and aiming for his knee. He managed to grab onto her leg before she suddenly ripped it out of his arms with a twist of her hips, nearly sending him tumbling back into the ground. He did not recognize any of her attacks, neither in the brief memories of her life that he had lived through and could feel the not-quite-panic of his two ancestors trying to adapt and adjust to her fighting style adding to the Bleeding that he was hard pressed to mentally keep at bay.

"You know how I fight-"

"I don't, I didn't experience your life-"

"Liar," her words cut through him and he felt a stabbing pain in his head and instinctively placed a hand on his temple – "Liar!" she screamed at him. He was lying, he had to be. There was no way that what he had just said was the truth. Because if it was then… - the image of Altaїr's stoic expression shocked him out of that brief memory before he glanced to the side of the training salle to see his Arabic ancestor currently wearing the same exact expression. A sudden fury clouded Desmond's mind, fury that he did not know he had – how dare he – her fierce whisper echoed and resonated within him, before he turned back just as Arden attacked him again.

He quickly dodged her attack, side stepping to the right before his left hand swiftly dealt a punch to her stomach, recognizing it as a variation of how Altaїr tried to launch a first strike. He would deal with her before going after Altaїr. How dare he, the whisper brushed across his consciousness again, fueling him. That's a variation of Ezio's style, he could see it clearly now as he saw how she moved. She had combined the two styles of their mutual ancestors and used it to her advantage plus with a little extra modern training that she had obviously learned during the years she was alive.

She attacked him with two jabs, one he blocked with a forearm the other he caught with his other arm before trying to twist it and break her arm before she kicked out, catching him in the stomach, sending him back a little. He released the grip he had on her arm before punching her, aiming for her solar plexus. She blocked with her left arm and he felt the impact of the bracer she wore underneath her hoodie. Armed! A part of him snarled in anger before he kicked out, extending his right arm out in a back hand. She caught his arm and he turned into her attack, sending an uppercut into her jaw where his own hidden blade should have been on his left hand; it would have pierced her brain, he thought viciously.

She reeled backwards before charging at him again, ever silent, but he saw the smile on her face and it only served to make him angrier. He tried to block her attack, but she slipped under his guard and yanked him forward just as the sliver of the thin blade slid out of her bracer and touched his neck, not quite piercing him, but enough to make him freeze in place. She did not deserve to have such a smug expression on her face, not after – just like her mother! – Elisabeth's face flashed across his eyes and he choked, the fury suddenly draining out of him. His breath came in heaving gasps, sweat pouring down his face that he had not noticed earlier.

"You did not hesitate that time," she whispered in his ear, her accent echoing along the lines of the voice in his head that was hers.

He could hear his own breaths, harsh against his ears, grating against the draining fury that had overcome him before she released him and he stumbled backwards, blinking his eyes. It was like seeing things for the first time as he stared at her. She sheathed her blade with a quiet snick as a wiry grin worked its way up her face and she turned to the others. "Well?"

"Interesting," Altaїr said and Desmond took a shuddering breath, rubbing his forehead, the headache a little stronger.

"I…what…." He knew he had fought, his muscles, along his back and his arms and legs were aching all of the sudden, but unlike previous times when he had Bled, he remembered every single detail of it though he could not quite remember the fight. He knew he had Bled, and he knew he had fought at the same time, using those memories to fuel whatever unnatural anger had risen in him.

"You controlled the Bleeding, though not very well," Ezio hopped off from his perch and walked over, tossing him a water bottle to which he drank from.

"Did I…talk in Italian?" Desmond wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"No, but it is progress nonetheless," Ezio clapped him on his shoulder, shaking it a bit in reassurance, "what did you see, if I may ask?"

"Uh," Desmond glanced at his other two ancestors, suddenly wondering if he should mention that there was something in Arden's tone that had triggered the memory followed by the same exact expression he had seen in Altaїr's face. He sensed that the memory he had experienced was something that the two would not want to talk about and for some odd reason, felt protective of that. There was clearly some kind of rift between former master and apprentice, he could see that now by the way the two stood close to each other, yet their body language shouted that something had happened to break the bond between them. "It's kind of hard to describe…" he finally replied, "I saw…well, I…"

"I saw my anger reflected in your own face," Arden crossed her arms in front of her, "and I saw you move from Altaїr's fighting style to Ezio's with fluidity. I saw some of my own fighting style too and then…one I did not quite recognize-"

"Jack's," the name fell from Desmond's lips before he could stop it and saw Arden still at the name. He could see the flash of pain and agony in her eyes and bit his own lip, "Sorry…I didn't mean to-"

"It is fine," she replied, a little too woodenly to convince him, but he took the dismissal for what it was worth.

"You Bled Jack?" Altaїr however was a little more concerned and Desmond saw that he was wearing his bracers again; his familiar left one far more visible than his hidden right one.

"Not exactly," he scratched the back of his head, "it's only when she got under my guard and- what?" Both Altaїr and Ezio were staring at Arden, concern written over their faces before she lifted her bracer and he could see a faint unearthly dark glow from it. He recognized that glow, and he could feel the utter revulsion of all of his ancestors within him trying to back away from it. He needed to get away from it, it was evil, it was anathema, it was-

"Desmond!" Ezio's grip on his shoulder tightened, and he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Did you…do you not see it? Feel it?" he tried to suppress a shudder of revulsion as he stared at Arden's bracer, her memories of how Jack had choked her with it, how he had lived through him and had nearly raped Lucy coming back to the forefront.

"We do," Altaїr's seemingly nonplussed answer startled him from the onslaught of memories and he looked at his first ancestor, shocked.

"Then…"

"Unlike Altaїr and Ezio, I need to have the Lance, or a part of it, upon me at all times," Arden said quietly after Altaїr did not elaborate further. "I think this was the reason why you Bled Jack."

Desmond did not miss the way she had forced out Jack's name, the pain of discovering that he was her father still evident in her voice after all of these years. He understood now, her expression when she and Ezio had discovered who had attacked him at the base's training ground, understood that it was not a blank expression she had worn, but rather, unfiltered shock. She had said anything, but her eyes had told him that she had been screaming inside, sobbing, and had relived painful memories that he suspected she had buried a long time ago.

It was an effort for him to suppress the shudder and he knew he was not successful in that attempt at the quick look of concern Ezio shot at him, followed by the barely noticeable tightening of his grip on his shoulder. He knew that grip was telling him that he was here, that this was reality, not the storm of memories swirling in him that he tried to keep at bay. It was hard not to fall back into Arden's memories as she was holding up the bracer, to relive the screams, the attack…the pain…

"W-Why…did I Bleed Jack?" he managed to get himself under control, "with…that?"

"The Lance leaves a residual imprint of its previous wielder," Arden replied, "I am sorry, Desmond."

"Yeah…" he could not quite shake the feeling that Arden was not telling the whole truth, but he did not want to find out at the moment. She lowered her hand and the bracer with the hidden blade sliver that was the Lance stopped glowing. Desmond felt the instinct to flee far away from it died down in him, leaving him drained once more. It was also then that he realized he was utterly exhausted, from both the lack of sleep and from the training he had received from both of his living ancestors.

"Get some sleep," Altaїr was staring at him with a critical eye and Desmond nodded, ignoring the bristling of his ancestor within and mentally telling him to shut up. He was mildly surprise to feel the bristling fade away as Ezio's firm hand guided him from the training salle, leaving Altaїr and Arden there.

"What time is it?" he asked as he trudged up the steps strapping his bracer back onto his left arm, grateful that Ezio had not let go of his grip on his shoulder. He could feel the headache growing now and fought the urge to rub his temples to try to alleviate the pain. He did not know why, but he did not want his ancestor to worry over him, not after giving him a way out of this war. He felt a little dizzied, but he supposed it was from the lack of sleep and a bit of dehydration. Ezio's grip was like an anchor, telling him that this was reality, not the churn of memories that was threatening to overwhelm him. He thought he could see the faint images of ghostly figures running, but wasn't too sure.

"About five in the morning," Ezio's tone was back to what he remembered the hint of laughter in them, unlike the seriousness and age-old quality he had spoken with in the cafeteria.

"Good freaking god," there had been a few times he had worked into the early morning hours, especially seeing a sunset going into work at the bar and leaving in time to see a sunrise. Those were the days he wanted to kill a few of the patrons who made him stay that late, or early, at work.

Ezio laughed a little, echoing a faint laughter within his head, but he did not find it disturbing unlike other times and instead took comfort in it. "You did fine, kid."

"I Bled," he shot back, "how is that fine?"

"But you were able to control it," Ezio replied, "were you able to do that before?"

"No," Desmond admitted, "but I feel like I was going to slip and somehow lose myself. I..." He hesitated as the cavern halls started to look familiar, the reminder of why he had fled from his room coming back to him, "I don't want to end up like Sixteen... I mean, what happens if I..." It had taken a physical effort on Lucy's part to knock him back into reality, to knock Jack's personality that had seemingly taken over him, away. He knew that his ancestors would be true to their words and knock him out if he ended up losing himself again. He was more afraid of the fact that one day, just knocking him out or physically shaking him out of his ancestors memories would not be enough, that one day, he was going to start babbling and there would be no one to stop him. One day, the physicality of blood would overwhelm everything else and he would paint the walls with his own madness.

He heard Ezio sigh and squeeze his shoulder in reassurance as he guided him back to his room, "We will cross that bridge if it comes to that." The unspoken words that someone would always be there was meant to reassure Desmond, but a part of him wondered if they should just leave him, leave him to his growing madness, to the Bleeding because a part of him was afraid that at that point, he would not be able to control himself anymore and would attack anyone while lost in the thrall of his ancestors lives. If he had attacked Lucy as Jack, who else would he attack when living the memories of others? Jack could not be the only insane ancestor in his bloodline, he was sure of that.

"Desmond," Ezio spoke up after a few minutes of silence as they continued to walk.

"Yeah?"

"Arden does not know Jack's real name," his ancestor said and Desmond looked at him puzzled.

"But, he's her father…"

"Altaїr and I rarely see eye to eye, but this is one of them."

"But she has the right to know-"

"It would break her," Ezio calmly interrupted him; "it would destroy everything that she has lived for and everything that she is."

"But…she's…strong," it was the only word he could come up with to describe his British ancestor from the memories that he had lived of her and from the way she presented herself to him at the base and during the training. He would have called her cold, professional, independent, but strong was a much better word for her both for her physicality and mental state, especially in light of the knowledge that Jack was her father. She seemingly accepted the fact and moved on, working with Stephen the last he remembered.

The corner of Ezio's lips flicked up in a sad smile, "Altaїr does not want her to know." The unspoken words that Altaїr would take that knowledge to his grave, if and when he reached it, were not lost on Desmond. He realized that whatever rift had seemingly formed between former master and apprentice, there was still the hint of protectiveness and father-like feelings the Arabic ancestor had for Arden, even after all of these years.

"All right," Desmond could see the unspoken request from his ancestor to honor Altaїr's wishes.

"And here we are," Ezio opened the door to the common room as he steered him past the couches and opened the door to Desmond's tiny room. However, Desmond froze, the onslaught of what he had almost done just hours ago coupled by how he had fled, rooting him to the spot. His room had been cleaned up, the small end table and lamp that had been knocked down standing straight once more and he realized Lucy had straightened everything in the hours he had been gone.

"You okay?"

He pressed his lips together and nodded tightly, unwilling to show how rattled he was. "Yeah, just tired..."

"Get some sleep Desmond. You did well," Ezio left the room, closing the door behind him. He heard his ancestor's footsteps cross the common room before the sound of another door closing told him that Ezio had left. It was only then that Desmond allowed himself to relax and found that he was shaking all over. He could still see Lucy sitting on the ground near the door, half-naked, bruised and a little bloodied. Squeezing his eyes shut in a futile effort to rid his mind of the searing image, reached out to lock the door, only to find that there was no lock on the door.

He wanted to make sure that if he did Bleed in his sleep again that Lucy would not be able to get into his room and possibly be injured again, but the lack of a lock on the door puzzled him. He looked around before finally taking the lamp off of the small end table, putting it on the ground and taking the table itself and propping it up against the door. If he hallucinated or was in the thrall of one of his ancestors' memories, maybe before he attacked anyone else, the sudden pain of smashing his shins against an end table would be enough to snap out of the memories.

With his task done, he crawled into the covers of his bed and finally allowed himself to relax, hearing the whispers of his ancestors brushing his mind before he fell asleep minutes later.

Author's Notes:

There is a certain point I want to get to this story before Revelations comes out and I have about three weeks to write about four or five chapters before Uncharted 3 comes out in early November and I'm distracted until Revelations two weeks after that. Let's see if this can be accomplished. Anyways, recent news regarding AC3 to conclude Desmond's story (but not the AC universe) next year has gotten me excited – does that mean we get a fully playable Desmond for the majority of AC3?

Oh, it's not that obvious from this chapter or previous ones, but my favorite character in Assassin's Creed is Altaїr. Desmond is a close second followed by Ezio.