Chapter Twenty-Five:

Subject Seventeen

1230

"Ghazi hasn't returned home yet..." Ahdara sighed as she slowly lifted Rami from his cradle and brought the babe close to herself. "He isn't usually this late..."

"Perhaps he had a late shift?" I suggested as I set the table.

Ahdara sank slowly into one of the seats at the table and gently bounced Rami. He gurgled in delight. I grinned at him, and offered him one of my fingers, which he grasped with his tiny fingers.

Smiling, Ahdara handed him over to me, and I took him for a walk around the table before I kissed his forehead and handed him back. He smelt just like Darim and Sef had when they were babies, I noted.

"I hate to ask this of you, Suna," Ahdara said as she gently placed Rami's head in the crook of her arm, "but would you go ask him how much longer he intends to take?"

I nodded. "I can. He's working on that temple, right?"

"There or at the docks," Ahdara affirmed. "Take your time. Rami and I will be here."

I gave both Rami and Ahdara a kiss on the forehead before I left the home. I decided that the temple was closest, so that was where I headed first. Men were heaving rocks, painfully dragging them closer to the temple, but I saw no sign of Ghazi.

"Excuse me," I said, interrupting one of the men, "but is Ghazi here?"

He glanced at me and then shook his head. "No. He... He was called to meet a client at the docks."

"Thank-you," I replied, hurrying to the docks.

The docks were large, so it would be difficult to rightly decide where Ghazi was. I had searched for ten minutes before I reached the end of the docks, but I hadn't seen him. In fact, anyone I asked replied that they hadn't seen a man like him.

I stopped to scratch my head. Where could Ghazi have gone? He was usually on time when he came back home, and if he was late, he would have a messenger tell us.

I groaned as I thought, my stomach rumbling a bit, and turned my eyes to the direction of the ships in port. Families were coming off of them, but there was no Ghazi to help them with their luggage or supplies. He wasn't even speaking with the ship captains.

"Where are you, Ghazi…?" I whispered.

Sighing, I slumped into a nearby bench and rubbed my eyes. Perhaps I'd just missed him. Perhaps he was already at home and they were all waiting for me. Standing, I began to hurry back to the house. I hoped he was there.

"Hey!" Someone grabbed hold of my arm. I whirled around, my fist ready to fly into their face, but I stopped myself. His hair was greying, but he was clean-shaven and very little wrinkles on his face. "Suna. I thought it was you."

Darim.

Darim in white.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp, my chest rising erratically as I tried to get myself under control—tried to push away the memories of Abbas, Swami, and the dungeon—.

"Sister?"

I rested my head in my hands, avoiding his gaze and his form. If I didn't look, he may as well have been wearing black. "Darim," I responded. "W-What are you doing here?"

He motioned something. People came and stood beside him. I could already recognize them, so I pulled the hood I wore further down my face automatically.

"Father has become… difficult," Darim admitted quietly. "I came to help them settle."

"Auntie!" one of the girls screeched. She was probably just around her teens now. I hadn't seen her since before we left for Mongolia, and she was just a baby then.

I knelt and hugged Sef's second child, squeezing her for good measure, and then opened one of my arms to embrace the first of Sef's children.

"Hello Hala, Junah," I greeted silently. "It is good to see you again."

"I missed you, Auntie," Hala mumbled into my shoulder. "I wanted to visit you."

Junah nodded. Despite being the eldest, she was the quietest one. I looked up, blocking out the image of my brother in white, and smiled at Sef's widow, Rahaf. She had dark eyes and tanned skin, and black hair that was always tied back. She smiled back, albeit weakly.

"What do you mean 'difficult', Darim?" I asked, returning my eyes to the dirt. "About our father?"

"He…" Darim paused. "Mother's death has driven him into a deep sadness. Now, he never lets that accursed artifact out of his sight. He spends many days at a time in his room with it, asking it questions. He tries to understand it, but in understanding it, he understands less and less of himself."

I nodded slowly, and released my nieces.

"I was hoping that you could talk sense into him," my brother admitted.

I shook my head, sighing. "You know I cannot, Darim. Not as I am."

"But—!"

"I cannot," I repeated. "I'm sorry, brother, but I just can't."

I kissed the top of Hala and Junah's heads, hugged Rahaf, and then squeezed my eyes shut as I hugged my brother, and even gave him a kiss on the forehead for good measure.

"I'm sorry, Darim," I muttered, and then returned to Ahdara's home.

1770

"Achilles? Where's Ratonhnhaké:ton?" I asked, peeking my head into the old man's room.

"Connor is still in Boston," Achilles replied as he continued to write a letter, dabbing his quill in ink as he did. "Haytham Kenway was there. As was Charles Lee. They incited something, and we were separated."

I blinked. "Um… 'Connor'?" I repeated.

Achilles had a ghost of a smile on his face. "I can't pronounce his name for the life of me. 'Boy' isn't going to suffice if he's staying with us. So, I've taken to calling him 'Connor'."

"You haven't told him that Connor was the name of your son, have you?"

"No, and I trust you will not." The old man leaned back in his chair after placing his quill into the vat of ink. "It is simply easier on me."

I smirked. "Achilles, he can just check the graves outside."

"He could, but he's quite enamoured with your training," Achilles retorted. "Regardless, Sam Adams is teaching him about the ways of the city and how to avoid notice. Connor will return soon."

"Do you at least have my supplies?" I asked him, crossing my arms.

Achilles sipped some of the tea he had brewed. "Of course I did," he replied. "Connor bought it before that little outbreak."

"Excellent," I said dryly. "He's not going to be happy, you know."

"I am aware. But the experience will be invaluable to him. Especially so with the advice you gave him and the commotion in Boston."

I shook my head and left the room. As I began to make some soup for Ratonhnhaké:ton's return, I smirked to myself. He'd be angry, yes, but then he'd see the reason behind Achilles' actions. And afterward, he'd ask for more training so he wouldn't be caught unawares again.

2012

The sting of the gas burned my lungs and my eyes to a point where I just curled up on the floor and wished to die. But when it seemed like I would, I'd somehow inhale oxygen and the torture would begin all over again.

It had been hours. I could hear someone laughing over the intercom. I was certain that it wasn't Vidic, because he was busying himself with Bill.

Bill... It had been my fault we were captured. It had to be. But... No. No, we'd had no chance against the Templars. They were ready for us. In the museum, they had it cleared out, and stormed every exit and window. Their leader ordered an open-fire. We'd gotten into cover, but we were captured. I'd spied Bill sending a quick message to Desmond... Maybe I was wrong about Bill.

Our transfer to Italy was blurred by drugs and sedatives. The last thing I could clearly remember was the needle.

"Shut it down," I heard someone order over the intercom. "She's got to be dead by now."

I was in pain—pain I'd never experienced before, but I slowed my drastic breathing and waited patiently on the floor. Play dead, I thought. Play dead, Suna...

Suddenly, there was a rustling over the intercom. I peeled my eyes open as wide as I dared in order to focus.

"Shit!" someone yelled from the corridor. "Seventeen! It's seventeen! He's fucking here!"

"Get your gun! Stop him!" another hollered.

Desmond?

Somebody opened the door to the room I resided in and hurried over to me. They'd be transferring Walter and I somewhere else to keep us away from Desmond. I pretended to be weak—pretended to be dead, actually. They didn't bother to check as they began dragging me out of there. I risked cracking a smile as I breathed in the fresh air of the corridor, and then waited for Walter to be dragged beside me.

We were going to escape. All of us.

This would be the end of Warren Vidic and the Animus project.

I swore it on my life.