Sometimes, the sheer, pointless cruelty of Juhani Osto Berg makes Haytham question every life decision he has ever made. In the past, Hayhtam had always told himself that there's a difference between individual people and the causes they choose to represent. He has fought side by side with some truly terrible people, even called them brothers. They had been templars alongside him, and while they were less than shining examples of humanity, their flaws had never tarnished the order they served in Haytham's mind.
Berg is different. The man is scum, despicable in every possible sense of the word. Haytham has suffered at that man's hands. He has been tortured, chained up like an animal, mocked, starved, broken, and ignored. Haytham cannot say for certain that there were no templars in his time that treated people like this, but he doubts that it was ever quite this extensive.
Berg continues to question him, and Haytham continues to wonder if he is in some way to blame for what has become of the order. On bad days, he blames himself for allowing the order to continue. This… the order has grown into this, slowly but surely, because it had been allowed to do so. Bit by bit, when little things were allowed, or overlooked, or… or… Haytham doesn't know, anymore. All he knows, for rock hard certainty, is that Berg is so… hard, so relentlessly and obviously cruel, that it has tarnished Haytham's view of his whole order. It cannot be the same as it used to be. It cannot be something he supports.
The only thing he has left to look forward to is Lucy, and her continuing visits. In the few days since they'd forged their tentative alliance, she's brought him information as well as food and other very welcome supplies. They talk about the state of the world, the details of the templar/assassin war, and anything else she can think of that he might want to know. But Lucy never talks about escape, and that frustrates Haytham. He wants to get out, so desperately it's like a fire inside him.
She's starting to lose hope in him, leaving earlier on every consecutive day. Soon, Haytham is afraid, she will drift away and lose interest in him entirely. If he wants her to retain interest, is up to him to come up with something new. Stupid, but there it is. He can't blame her for the way she seems to be writing him off as hopeless. He's fighting the urge to do the same thing.
Haytham can't physically do much, chained up as he is. He only has words, and no idea which words will be able to convince Lucy to risk her own neck to get him out of here. He worries at the problem for a while, and then makes a drastic decision. He's going to be honest with Lucy, and tell her that he's worried she'll leave. It's not like he has anything to lose.
"I need to get out of this basement if we're going to leave any chance of escaping Berg," he tells Lucy the next time he sees her. "You know more about him than I do. What would make him release me?"
Lucy thinks about it. To his relief, she doesn't dismiss him immediately. "You're not going to like it," she says at last. "But there's only one thing I can think of."
"Am I going to like it less than I like this?" Haytham asks skeptically.
"Maybe. It involves the animus."
"Oh." It is, in fact, possible that any plan involving the animus will be worse than simply being a prisoner in Berg's basement. "Well, let's hear it," he says, sitting down with his back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees.
Lucy settles down next to him. "Tell me what Berg said to you about the animus."
"Nothing," Haytham says. "One day he drugged me. It was in my food. I passed out, and when I came to I was somewhere else. A little room with nothing in it but an animus. That was all he said, just—this is an animus, get in."
"It's a machine for viewing an ancestor's memories," Lucy explains.
"Any ancestor? Berg only ever seems interested in my father."
"He's probably got his reasons," Lucy says. "Not that he'd tell either of us. But yes, any ancestor. And sometimes—usually, actually—enough of the animus starts to trick your mind into believing things that aren't true. Eventually, it starts to lose track of what actually belongs to your life, and what memories belong to your ancestors. It's called the bleeding effect."
"It makes you mad?"
"Yes."
"He definitely did not mention that," Haytham says. "how long does it take?"
"Depends on the person, the ancestors, the frequency and duration of use, the version of the animus being used…"
"So it's unpredictable and terrible and inevitable," Haytham grumbles.
"And the answer to our problem, if we're lucky," Lucy says. Haytham frowns, as a creeping feeling of foreboding wormed its way through his mind. He doesn't like this at all. "It's only a matter of time before berg brings you back to the animus. When that happens, we need to induce the bleeding effect."
"What? No!" Haytham scoots away from her, chains scraping along the ground behind him. "You just finished telling me how awful this thing is, we can't—"
"The only time you're allowed out of this basement is when you're put in the animus. It's our only window for a potential rescue."
"I don't know if I'd rather be crazy than a prisoner."
"He'll throw you away when he sees you start bleeding," Lucy says. "You won't be of any use to him after that, so he'll try to kill you—"
"Oh, yes," Haytham says, voice rising in a shrill way he doesn't like. "Perfect!"
"And that's when we run. Berg always asks me to come with him when you're in the animus. I'm a decent technician, probably better than almost anyone else he has the option of dealing with. I always tell him no and he hasn't started pushing yet. Probably because he knows I could sabotage the whole thing before he could stop me, if I wanted. But next time, I'll say yes. And when you're plugged in, I can trigger… there's a kind of scan setting. It's used on new subjects to find a particular ancestor or period in history. If I speed that up, it will overload you brain and trigger a bleed."
"And then?"
"Berg realizes you're not useful to him anymore. He loses interest, tells me to kill you, and leaves. We run."
"Except I'll be crazy. Will I even be able to run?"
"You'll just have to trust me to get you going in the right direction."
"And then?" Haytham says softly. "When it's over, and I'm still a madman?"
"We fix you."
"Really?"
"Well… maybe."
It's a choice between one type of horror and another. Haytham nods miserably, because at least it's doing something. Lucy leans over to put her arm around his shoulders. He lets her, because today is a dark day, just like all the days before, and undoubtedly many of the days still to come. And the two of them are very small, fighting a very large battle that's not fair, not fair, not fair.
-/-
Desmond has stopped trying to wake up early. It just makes him sleepy, which in turn makes him cranky, which makes Shaun insist he needs a nap and he doesn't like naps. They're boring. And anyway, the only good part of waking up so early is seeing William before school, and he doesn't wanna see William anymore. Things should be better than they used to be. William had been nice to him, and then suddenly it turns out he really thinks Desmond is crazy. He'd just been pretending. He'd been humoring Desmond.
When he'd said Desmond might be crazy, he'd meant it. He's still mean, just less… hitty than he used to be. Which is nice, but… Desmond doesn't want him to be mean or hitty.
It turns out that he can only avoid William for so long before people start to notice. Rebecca corners him while William is away at school and everyone has gone out for the day. Desmond gives her a worried look because the expression on her face means they're going to have a serious conversation.
"Desmond—"
He jumps to his feet and makes a run for it. The surprise of his escape attempt gives him a bit of a head start, but he doesn't get very far before Rebecca gets in front of him and cuts him off. Desmond tries to swerve, but there's a reason the doctors keep telling him not to run. His left leg suddenly shakes under him and goes numb; Desmond falls with a whimper and rolls, not quite fast enough to avoid Rebecca.
"Ow!" he whines, but she only shakes her head.
"Well why are you running away, then?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles.
"I do."
"Then talk to him."
"I did. He says the two of you don't have a problem."
"He said what?" Desmond growls a little, and doesn't say anything else.
"You know what," Rebecca says after a while. "I have three brothers." Which, as far as Desmond can tell, has absolutely nothing to do with anything. He leans over to rub the feeling back into his still numb leg, and Rebecca just keeps on talking. "Two of them are older than me, one's younger."
"Do you like them?" Desmond asks.
"I do now," Rebecca says. "When we were kids, we did nothing but fight… I thought they must be the most terrible people in the whole world."
"What did you fight about?"
Rebecca laughs. "What didn't we fight about?"
"I dunno…"
"It was rhetorical, Des. We fought about everything. Little stuff and big stuff and pretty much all the stuff in between. We argued about favorite colors and who got to sit in the front seat of Dad's truck and where to go for dinner when our parents let us choose."
"Do you still argue?" Desmond asks.
"No."
"What changed?"
"I did," Rebecca says. "I mean—sort of. I joined the assassins."
"And?"
"And, I know talking to my brothers could put them in a lot of danger now," she says. "So I can't. I just think about all the things I want to say to them. How much I miss them, and all the little things that remind me of them. But I can't tell them any of those things. So what I'm saying is—don't take William for granted. You're lucky to have him, even if you're arguing."
Desmond isn't actually a child. "I get it," he snaps. "Cliché moral message received. But I don't think this is the same situation."
"Well, no," Rebecca says. "I don't think anyone is in a situation like yours." She laughs, and Desmond thinks that sure, she can afford to do that, because she doesn't have to deal with William, or with Haytham and Connor and Edward.
Which makes him think. This is kind of a big deal, and honestly they could use some more adult sized people to help them figure out exactly what is going on. The only thing that stops Desmond from spilling the whole story is the threat of embarrassment. William already thinks he's crazy, he doesn't need Rebecca to agree with him. He's not crazy, he's not. "Do you want me to make up with William?" Desmond asks instead.
"It would be nice."
"But why do I have to make up with him?" Desmond asks. "It wasn't my fault!"
"Well then why don't you make up with each other," Rebecca says, smiling.
"Because he's being mean," Desmond says. He runs off without saying another word to Rebecca.
-/-
William and Lucy are paired together for their class's field trip to the zoo.
"The buddy system is very important," their teacher announces before they get on the schoolbus. "If we're in a group, and you see that your buddy is missing, tell me or one of the parents right away."
William shoots a look sideways at Lucy, who doesn't look happy at being paired up either. Neither of them complains, though. It wouldn't be worth the effort of explaining to their teacher that they're not friends anymore (or never had been, since their earlier 'friendship' had just been Lucy taking advantage of William's missing memories). William flushes angrily and looks away from her again.
On the bus, they have to sit next to each other. Lucy gets the window seat, and William ignores her while she curls up against the window and watches the road flash past. At the zoo, though, when they unload and start splitting into smaller groups, Lucy grabs his arm and pulls him away from the rest of the class.
"Hey—"
"Shut up!" she hisses, and won't say anything else until they're out of sight and earshot of the rest of the class. Then she lets go of him and steps back, crossing her arms. "I can't stand another second of being around those children," Lucy says. "I imagine you feel much the same."
"I guess," William admits. "I wouldn't mind a break."
"We're partners," Lucy says. "Buddies. So as llong as both of us stay away from the rest of the group, I doubt anyone will notice we're not there."
"I guess."
"So do you agree?" He nods, and she points up at a sign nearby. "Let's go see the penguins, then."
"Penguins?"
"Sure, penguins. We're in a zoo, aren't we? What did you think we were going to do?"
He shrugs. "It's just weird that you and me are going to look at penguins, of all things. I mean—a year ago, that would have been ridiculous."
"A lot of things that are happening these days would have been ridiculous a year ago."
"I guess."
"So—" She points at the sign again. "Penguins?"
They start walking, and soon enough come to the building that houses the penguins. Inside, it's dimly lit, and the sound of splashing water echoes from somewhere farther down the hall. "This is kind of creepy," William whispers.
"Scared, Miles?"
He stiffens, both hurt and offended. "No way!"
"Then come on!"
He hears her footsteps running away from him, and wishes he had Desmond's eagle vision. It's not well lit in here. Lacking that, he takes a deep breath and follows her as best he can.
The two of them pass through a set of doors, and into a room that looks like an aquarium. Tanks full of fish line the walls, each one backlit so that the fish inside are more clearly visible. At least that explains the darkness, even if William still doesn't trust it.
(He's definitely not scared, though. Cautious, maybe, but not scared)
"No penguins in here," Lucy says, and for a second the honest disappointment on her face makes her look like an actual child. "Onward we go."
William trails along after her, out of the fish room and into the next.
"Boo!"
He shouts in surprise and jumps backward so that the back of his head smacks into the wall. Lucy, no more than a dim shape in front of him in the semidark room, is doubled over and breathless with laughter. Her giggling is like a sharp spike being pounded into the tender part of his skull, and William pushes at her.
"Hey," she says. "Come on, it was just a joke—"
But jokes are funny, and William's not laughing. He pushes again, and she hits him—and that's it, that's the last point where they make any attempt at civility. William hits Lucy because he is angry and embarrassed, and because she's hitting him now, too. She half trips, stumbling into him, and they tumble backward together through the next set of doors and onto the hard, concrete floor on the other side.
This room, finally, is lit. Not more brightly than usual, but after being in the almost dark for the past several minutes, William finds himself momentarily stunned. Lucy freezes as well, pinned beneath William on the ground, one arm pulled over her head so that her shirt rides up on that side. William's eyes drift down, then go narrow.
"These are old," he says, pointing to the dark bruising there. She starts squirming under him, but William completely ignores her. "I didn't just do that."
"No," Lucy snaps. "You're not the only jerk that knocks me around, okay? You're not special, you're not unique."
He doesn't think much about Lucy's life, except for how it directly affects him. But ages ago, when he had still thought she was an ordinary kid, she'd told him that her dad sometimes hit her. Now that he knows better, now that he knows who she is, this is the first time William's really thought about where her bruises actually come from.
"Sorry." He moves away from her, suddenly ashamed, and she turns angry.
"Don't you dare pity me," she warns. "Don't you dare."
"Who did that?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Look, Lucy, I—shouldn't have hit you. That was wrong of me."
"Shut up," Lucy mumbles, not looking at him.
"No," William says. "I didn't realize—I was thinking like a kid. I was just… But a grown up hit you?"
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but also looks a little like she's trying not to cry.
"You're in the same boat as me and Desmond," William says. We can't help the fact that we're all kind of stuck like this. We have the same problems, and if things get worse there's no one else in the world that understands."
"So you're saying… what, you're saying that if I had a problem, you'd help me?"
He doesn't giver her an immediate answer, because he can tell she wouldn't believe a knee jerk response. But after what feels like a suitable amount of time, he looks at her and nods. "If I could, I would."
She lets out a long breath, and looks away from him, at the penguins. "Good. Because I have a problem."
Before William can answer, they hear a roar of childish voices coming closer, down the hall toward them. "Two problems," he corrects, pulling on Lucy's hand to get her moving. "That sounds like the rest of the class."
They make it all the way to the next door when Lucy (glancing back over her shoulder) suddenly shrieks in laughter. William follows her gaze, just in time to see the penguins they'd left behind swarming around their harried looking teacher. Luckily, she's too distracted by the birds to notice the two of them running away, giggling like a pair of mad things.
-/-
They find an out of the way clearing, next to a lake that's been set up with picnic tables and some spotty attempts at landscaping. They avoid the picnic table and the patchwork of stains covering it. Instead, they sit on the ground with their backs against a large statue of a camel.
"So tell me about your problem," William says, and Lucy hugs herself like she's cold, even though she can't possibly be. It's warm out.
"Can I really trust you?"
"Yea, sure."
She sighs. "Like you'd tell me anything else."
"Listen, if you don't want to tell me—"
"I'm with the templars. Templar. Just one of them, Juhani Otso Berg. He's my problem."
"I've heard of him," William says.
"He's…" William waits as Lucy visibly struggles with the right word to pick. Eventually, he gets impatient, and tries to help.
"Is he the one that hit you?"
She nods. "And I have to keep going back."
"Why?"
"Because if I run, they'll find me, and things will get worse. They'll drag me back and lock me up. If I go back on my own, it's not so bad. I have a little bit more freedom. It's not as bad, it's… it's not."
"It's not?" William presses gently. "Really?"
She looks down and swallows. "Alright. So maybe it is."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I have plans," she admits, after a pause. "They're just… not very good."
"Tell me?"
When she hesitates, he tries to smile. It feels… odd, to smile at someone that's supposed to be an enemy. But it makes her smile back at him. Crooked, but real. And then, she finally answers.
"Would you help me?" she asks. "Really?"
"If I can. If you don't turn around and betray me." He doesn't know exactly what makes him say that, only… well, he's scared. It's silly, because Lucy is no bigger than he is, but she'd already betrayed the assassins once, and… she wouldn't do it again. Would she?
Lucy nods. "I need to run with Haytham," she says. "We've been talking about it, and I can't leave him behind. So we made this plan—"
"Wait," William interrupts. "Haytham?"
"Kenway," she says. "You know he's with me, don't you? I mean, you asked me about him, so I figured… you already knew."
But William shakes his head. "Desmond told me to ask," he says. "I thought he was bleeding. He went through Haytham's memories in the animus."
"I didn't know that."
"It was after he stabbed you."
Her mouth twists up in distaste, and William catches himself biting back the instinct to apologize.
"Well, the point is, he's not bleeding," Lucy says after a moment. "Haytham's chained up in the basement at home. And he's a kid. He's our age."
"Wow."
And then, finally, she tells him everything, all the way through to her idea of getting Haytham out by getting him into an animus.
"That's a terrible idea," William says, and Lucy scowls at him.
"Do you have a better one?"
He shakes his head. "But—can you still come home with me after school? Is that allowed? Someone there might be able to come up with a better plan."
"Like?"
He fidgets. "Shaun. Rebecca."
Lucy flinches. "No. No, William, they'll hate me, after what I did. I betrayed them, remember."
"I won't let them do anything to you," William insists. "I promise."
"Really?"
And even though he doesn't think either of them believes he's really capable of protecting her if it comes right down to it, when William says yes, Lucy nods in answer.
"Alright," she says. "I'll come as soon as I can."