So the first part of this chapter is entirely Heron's fault :D I hope you're prepared to cry
also longest chapter of 'canon' FM to date!
Desmond sat there for several seconds, taking stock of what he was looking at. It didn't look like how he remembered exactly. An older memory tickled the back of his head. Outside he could hear someone driving out of the Farm, headed to god's knew where. It could have even been his father. He could smell the summer air coming in through his open window, thick with the smell of wildflowers and freshly mowed grass. Outside his room, from behind the partially closed door he could hear someone moving around and a hissing noise.
What day was it? What year was it?
Desmond lurched out of the bed and was so confused by his own body that he ended up stumbling and face planting into the wood floor so hard he saw stars. Movement outside the door stopped and for some reason unknown to Desmond he felt like he wanted to cry. He didn't know why. Falling had hurt really bad but he was never the type to cry really. Or he hadn't been? Tears still sprang to his eyes regardless of what he thought or wanted.
His bedroom door opened, "Desmond you okay?" and Desmond looked up from where he was still sprawled on the floor and now tears did start to flow. "Are you hurt?" they asked, coming into the bedroom.
"Duncan?" Desmond heard his voice, several pitches higher than he was used to, say.
"Did you hurt yourself when you fell?" Duncan asked, kneeling next to him and pulling him off the ground. Desmond could barely breathe. There was his brother. It was after he'd gotten back from the hospital after being nearly beat to death by two other boys his age. His arm had been broken in three places, he'd had four ribs broken, a bruised pelvis and jaw bone. And of course his eye. He'd lost vision in his left eye and the trauma from the beating had caused early onset cataracts in the eye so it was a milky brown color instead of its natural hazel.
"N-no," Desmond stammered and got to his knees, tears pouring down his face and making his breath hitch.
"You sure?" Duncan asked him gently. Desmond nodded, unable to speak, "Then why are you crying?" Desmond had no answer, he just cried harder and threw himself at Duncan, hugging him as tightly as he could manage. Now he knew why his body had felt so strange. It was smaller. He was in a child's body, clinging to his brother for all he was worth. Duncan hugged him back, trying to shush Desmond and figure out why he was crying loudly into Duncan's shoulder, getting the entire thing soaked in his tears. Desmond never wanted to let go. He'd let go once and had always regretted it.
"I missed you," Desmond said, voice shaking.
"Missed me?" Duncan asked, "you just took a nap," he said, still stroking Desmond's back gently.
"I…" Desmond felt tongue tied, "I had a dream you died," he said. Yeah, it was just a dream. Right? Right now it felt like a dream. All those awful things had happened to someone else. Some other Desmond. But not him.
"No," Duncan said, gently prying Desmond off him to look at him clearly, "that was just a dream Desmond," he said and stroked Desmond's head. "Now we have some homework before I go see Lisa okay?" and he stood up.
"Lisa?" Desmond asked, confused. He was so confused. He swore that his dream had been real.
"Yeah, my therapist. I go and see her every Thursday. You sure you're okay? You did bump your head," and he held Desmond's head in both hands, worry written across his entire face. Tears welled up in Desmond's eyes again. "Des are you sure you're okay?" Duncan asked. Desmond just hugged him again and in fact wouldn't let Duncan move an inch without pulling Desmond off him. Duncan was tall for his age, he'd probably have been even taller than dream Desmond when he grew up. And like Duncan Desmond had late growth spurts, so he was still easy to pick up and take over to the bed.
Duncan sat with Desmond in his lap and just pet his hair while Desmond cried some more. His brother didn't know what was wrong, but whatever it was could obviously be cured by some love and attention.
The dream still haunted him and what he'd become. Dream Desmond. He'd been so scary. So angry and alone. His heart ached for Dream Desmond because he'd dreamed the entire thing up. Some strange adult version of himself. But he'd felt everything. He knew how much Dream Desmond hurt, all the time. How he couldn't just be happy. How he couldn't let anyone close, and when he did something always happened anyway. He was too young to know or feel these things, but he felt them. He felt them even now in every inch of his little body and they were compounded five fold when daddy came home from work and would ask him how his day was and never seemed to really care. Or he did but what he heard wasn't what he wanted to hear. Sometimes he'd sleep in mommy's room, other times he left after dinner and went to sleep somewhere else. Most of the time he slept somewhere else. He felt them even more when Duncan and daddy fought, stern, tight lipped conversations that were spoken through clenched teeth. Duncan locked himself in his room for the night after each one and came out perfectly pleasant in the morning. Sometimes daddy would yell at Desmond afterwards. When he did it was about how he better not end up like his brother. Daddy never slept in mommy's room then and Desmond put himself to bed those nights.
Desmond ended up passing out as Duncan held him, worn out by so many more emotions than he was capable of handling swirling around inside him. The blanket tucked around him felt like Duncan's, warm, strong arms. When he woke up he was alone and managed to keep from crying again knowing Duncan was talking to his therapist. Duncan said it was important he went there, so he could get better even after he got out of the hospital.
Desmond ended up dragging his blanket out to the living room and crawling onto the couch. There was no TV. He didn't even know what a TV was. Except he did because Dream Desmond had loved TV. He didn't know that TVs were real though. He knew the house didn't have a TV, yet he still sort of expected there to be one in the living room. Because that was where you put TVs.
He curled up on the couch because he wanted to be there when Duncan got home so he could see him when he opened the door. And then he just sat, and waited. There were no books in the house that Desmond could read. They were all too hard to read and Duncan had to read them to him. And he didn't really have any toys. He had some blocks and things, but not like the toys Dream Desmond had seen in toy stores or in the big box stores.
Instead he thought about Dream Desmond. Or maybe Future Desmond? Dream Desmond had been able to see the future. What if he could see the future too? What if he'd just seen his entire future? He pressed his blanket to his eyes as they started to water just thinking about it. He didn't want to end up like Dream Desmond. Dream Desmond was so tired and angry and lonely and scared. But he was also so nice and brave and strong. He ended up crying for Dream Desmond because all he wanted was a normal life. A normal life with a normal family and normal friends, and he'd never been able to. He wasn't good enough for those sorts of things. He wasn't allowed to have things like that.
He perked up, sniffling, when the door opened. "Hey Desmond— are you crying again?" Duncan asked as he came inside. Desmond shook his head and wiped his eyes. Duncan came over to him and knelt. "What's the matter D?" he asked. "You've been so upset today since you took that nap."
"My dream-
Duncan frowned, "It was just a dream buddy," he said gently and stroked his hair. "Now c'mon, come help me make dinner and then we have homework," and Desmond let himself be pulled off the couch. Desmond held Duncan's hand as they went into the kitchen.
They washed their hands and Desmond helped Duncan make dinner. They had chicken nuggets, tator tots, and mac n' cheese. Desmond's favorites! Duncan was quiet while they had dinner, which Desmond didn't mind. They usually had quiet dinners.
"Is daddy not coming home tonight?" Desmond asked.
"No," Duncan said, "he's busy working."
"Oh, okay. Did you like seeing Ms. Lisa?"
"Yeah," Duncan said slowly, "made me realize some stuff," and Duncan had finished eating. Duncan always ate fast. He got up and Desmond quickly scarfed down the last of his tots so Duncan would take his plate into the kitchen.
Duncan put the dishes in the washer and they did their homework. Or rather, Desmond did his homework. Duncan just sat next to him and helped him do his math and helped him study his vocab for his test at the end of the week. Desmond thought it was sort of weird since Duncan always did his homework at the same time Desmond did.
Something felt weird. He didn't quite know what it was. Duncan seemed so… calm. Usually his brother had an edge. Though Desmond didn't know why he hadn't realized till now. It was like he'd never even noticed it but now he had some new insight on Duncan's behavior.
It came to him while he was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed after they did homework and Duncan went to go check on the horses in the stable out back. Dream Desmond had lived through this day already. He finished brushing and washed his mouth out and then stood at the back door waiting for Duncan to come back inside. He had to wait a few minutes though he knew he was supposed to go get in bed after brushing his teeth and Duncan read him a story. Then the door opened and Duncan came in.
"Desmond," Duncan said, though he didn't have the normal stern tone he took when Desmond stayed up past his bedtime, "why aren't you in bed?"
"What day is it?" Desmond asked.
"Desmond-
"What day is it!" Desmond said again.
Duncan sighed a little as he turned Desmond towards his room, "Its Thursday, you know that."
"The date. What's the date," Desmond pressed, dread welling up in his throat as they went into Desmond's room.
"August fifth," Duncan said and made a motion for Desmond to get into bed.
"Nineteen ninety-five?" he asked starting to get freaked out now. Dream Desmond's least favorite day of the year was August sixth. He always called out of work on those days, no matter what, and he even went to work on his birthdays. Before they'd all been lost he'd spend the entire day reading his journals out loud to his apartment like he was talking to someone. Like he was talking to his dead brother. He'd also fast for the day and make 'the last meal' as he called it. Chicken nugget, tator tots, and mac n' cheese. It never made Dream Desmond feel better exactly. But it always just felt right and at was all he could think of doing since it wasn't like he could visit Dream Duncan's grave or send flowers.
"Its been nineteen ninety-five all year," Duncan said patiently. "Now c'mon, get into bed," and he pulled back Desmond's blankets.
Desmond instead hugged Duncan's leg, "Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked.
"What? Desmond, c'mon now you're a big boy. You need to sleep in your own bed?"
"Please?" Desmond asked, his voice cracking.
"Desmond what is with your today?" Duncan asked and pulled Desmond off his leg gently.
The tears jumped to his eyes instantly, "I don't want you to go," he sobbed.
"What?" Duncan asked but his face looked a bit pale.
"Please don't kill yourself," and Duncan's face went dead white, both his good and bad eyes focused on Desmond's face. That made the tears spill over and Desmond sobbed loudly and fell onto his backside on the floor his grief of knowing what would have happened making it uncontrollable. Dream Desmond hadn't just been Dream Desmond, he'd been Future Desmond too. Duncan had been planning to kill himself tonight just like in his dream.
What if that meant all the rest of the dream real too? Getting kidnapped, the Animus and losing his mind, bringing about the end of the world. Becoming so empty and angry inside. The self hatred he'd felt all the time for his existence. The guilt that was like noose around his neck.
Duncan knelt in front of him and grabbed his arms, "Who told you I was suicidal?" he asked, more like demanded. It was a secret he'd hidden from everyone along with his depression. Dream Desmond had known though, because he was older and could look back on these years and see how depressed and strained Duncan was. Duncan never wanted anyone to know how depressed he was, that he was suicidal. He tried so hard to just… be normal and be good enough for their dad.
"No one," Desmond sniffed. "I just know."
"Desmond-
"Don't leave me alone," Desmond sobbed and hugged his brother. "I love you. Isn't that enough?" Duncan hugged Desmond tightly, so hard it hurt but Desmond barely noticed.
"Dad would take care of you," was Duncan's soft, weak, excuse in his ear.
"No!" Desmond cried. "No he wouldn't. The only one who takes care of me is you," he wiped his face as best he could with the back of his hand and arm. "Daddy doesn't care about me," and that made him cry harder. "Don't leave me with him. I need you. I need you," and he held Duncan as tightly as he could.
"I love you," Desmond said again. "I love you so much. I love you," and then he just started stammering it over and over again between his hitching sobs. It took him a while to realize his brother was crying too, his face pressed into Desmond's little shoulder. Duncan never cried. He always put on a brave face, even when he'd been in the hospital he always smiled for Desmond and never said he was in pain. But now Duncan cried with Desmond.
"I love you too," Duncan said after what felt like a long time. "I love you so much, Desmond," he still held Desmond tightly, like letting go and he'd fall apart. "I'm not going to leave you," and he kissed Desmond's head, then he pulled back some and kissed Desmond's face, not minding how wet and gross it was. Duncan's face was just as tear soaked.
"Really?" Desmond asked, hiccuping and trying to get his breathing back under control.
"Really," Duncan said.
"I don't want to be alone," Desmond said and rubbed his nose with his arm to wipe at the mucus.
"Me either," Duncan said softly.
"So I can sleep with you tonight?"
"Yes," and Duncan hugged him again, holding him gently. "You can sleep with me whenever you want," and he kissed the side of Desmond's head, stroking his hair. "And sometimes I might need you to come sleep with me too so I can have good dreams. Okay?" and Desmond knew what he wasn't saying. Nights he felt suicidal he wanted Desmond with him to remind him why he needed to keep living.
"Yes," Desmond said, hugging him back.
"C'mon, lets go wash up a bit," and Duncan heaved himself to his feet. Desmond grabbed his hand and they walked to the bathroom and washed their faces. Duncan changed Desmond's pajamas and then to his surprise put on his shoes. Duncan also put on his shoes and Duncan grabbed his hand and they left the house.
"Where are we going?" Desmond asked.
"Just up the road," Duncan said in a soft voice. "Near where Ms. Lisa lives."
"Oh," Desmond said and they got into one of the cars next to the house. Daddy had taken the truck earlier apparently so they took the car. Duncan always drove himself to his therapist, which was up the road a ways to a little town in the middle of nowhere between the Farm and Grand Rapids called Hill City.
Desmond had never been outside of the Farm before. It was sort of exciting but also scary. They drove about twenty minutes in the dark, through a pine forest and steep hills down a well maintained dirt road before they met a paved road. Little houses dotted the side of the road and that late at night they were the only ones out, even though the radio only said it was seven thirty.
They drove into Hill City and Desmond pressed his face to the window as they drove down the main street that was lined with buildings that were all still lit up. Duncan parked at a grocery store and they got out, Duncan keeping a tight hold of Desmond's hand. Desmond thought he should be more amazed of a grocery store and all the stuff to see and all the food. But he wasn't surprised. Dream Desmond had been into hundreds of grocery stores. They went to the ice cream section and picked out a pint of ice cream. Well, two pints of ice cream. One for Desmond, and one for Duncan. Duncan paid with cash, and then went back to the car.
The drive home seemed to last forever and Desmond nodded off even on the short drive. He half woke when Duncan picked him up one armed and carried him to the house. He was more awake for Duncan to scoop three big spoons into a bowl for him.
"You're the best big brother," Desmond said as he was eating his ice cream. Duncan just smiled. "Though driving with one eye is dangerous," he scolded and that surprised Duncan so much that he laughed aloud.
"You're right. But I do it anyway," Duncan said. They finished their ice cream and brushed their teeth again. Desmond followed Duncan into his bedroom and Duncan changed into his sleeping clothes. Pajama pants and a cotton T-shirt.
"Duncan," Desmond said as they got into bed.
"Hmm?" Duncan asked.
"How come you have funny scars right here?" he asked and patted Duncan's stomach. He had lines of short scars in neat rows all the way up his stomach to his belly button and flanks and vanishing down below his pant line. "Was that from when you were in the hospital?"
"No," Duncan said, cuddling him. "Sometimes I get so sad I can't feel anything and it feels like I can't breathe or move. So I—
Desmond just gave him a confused look when Duncan's words failed him.
"I used to," Duncan said in a whisper. "I used to get so very very sad. I'd want just any release I could get. So I'd take one of dad's knives and just… make a little cut."
"Didn't that hurt?"
"Yes," Duncan said. "But I felt numb before that. It let me feel again. It was a release. It made me feel better."
"But you don't do it anymore?"
"No," Duncan said so softly Desmond could barely hear him. "I haven't since I went into the hospital."
"So you don't feel that way anymore?"
"Sometimes I do," Duncan said, holding him tighter. "But now I do other things than hurt myself to feel again."
"Good," Desmond said, "I'm glad you don't hurt yourself anymore," and he kissed Duncan on the cheek. Duncan just smiled at him and Desmond snuggled up against him. "Night D," he said.
"Night D," Duncan kissed his cheek again and Desmond closed his eyes.
Desmond hadn't slept that well in twenty years.
—
As soon as Desmond touched the Apple he felt a force on his body. A hand on his soul that froze him in place. He moved his eyes, trying to force his body to move. Images flashed through his mind, ancient things and old prophecies. A lot of it didn't make sense. Why? Why?
The force turned him. He could hear Juno talking to him, some more things about prophecy and destiny, but Desmond could barely hear her. It was like he was swimming through mud, his movements slow and forced. He started walking slowly back towards the others. He didn't really call them his friends. He didn't really have friends though. They weren't moving, but rather seemed to be locked in space. Desmond could see their eyes moving.
He was forced forward, and would have fallen and stumbled if the firm hand didn't seem to be around his neck keeping him upright. He shambled on stiff legs closer to them, the guide pushing him towards Lucy first. His hand flexed against his will, his hidden blade came out and images and understanding washed over him.
He saw what would be. He knew that there were Assassins heading towards the temple now, but there were Templars too. Lucy had called them. She'd called them both. They'd come for the Apple, and for Desmond but the faces who shoved him into a van were equally unknown to Desmond. He didn't know if they were friend or foe and he realized: it didn't matter. The future was the same. One way or another he'd be a captive of one of the organizations. Flavor didn't matter, he'd be a prisoner. He saw the Abstergo Eye, what the Templars would do with it, why it'd be bad, and ultimately that it'd fail if Lucy didn't die.
She'd ruin everything. He could feel that in the back of his mind. She will ruin everything. But there was something under that he couldn't pick apart. What would she ruin? A plan. What plan?
He was getting closer now. "No," he said softly, looking into Lucy's eyes. She was aware, staring at him, her eyes the only thing that could move, and she was afraid.
What was the point? What was the POINT!? It wasn't going to work! The Eye was a failure. The future painted to Desmond was the same if Lucy lived or died. He'd be strapped in an Animus 'for the good of the cause' by either side. He could feel a low current in his mind and he felt more than saw flashes of Rebecca and Shaun. He knew they were next.
His hand was drawn back and he stared in horror at Lucy. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to do this. He didn't need or want a pointless deaths on his hands! "No," he said again, amazed he could move his mouth. Tears collected at the edge's of Lucy's eyes, she knew he was about to hurt her. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. He didn't want this! HE DIDN'T WANT THIS!
"No!" he yelled as his hand was moved forward to deliver what would be a killing blow and under force of will changed the direction of the strike. He ended up sinking the blade deep into his own abdomen. His body was suddenly under his control again, his body going limp. The Apple fell from his weak fingers and rolled away. He stared at Lucy, breathing hard and she could move now.
"Desmond?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock and face white as milk.
Desmond tried to say something, but all that came up was blood. He knew the feeling of dying. He'd done it a thousand times already in the Animus. He wasn't afraid of death. Blood bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. "I told you I'd keep you safe," he managed to say and pulled the knife from his stomach. The strike had meant to kill Lucy, so it hadn't just been a stab in the chest, which he could have handle, but also a yank up on his arm, digging the blade through flesh. He'd given himself the wound instead and he could feel his lungs filling with blood.
He managed to stay standing a few seconds more before he collapsed.
"Desmond!" he heard them yell but Lucy was the one who was at his side in an instant.
"What happened?" Shaun yelled.
"Go get the others," Lucy ordered zipping up her jacket.
"But Lucy-
"Go get the others now!" she yelled, looking at the two of them, "They should be at the temple entrance. Run." Shaun and Rebecca looked overwhelmed even as Lucy was wriggling out of her shirt under her jacket. Of them only Lucy seemed to have her head together. The techs hesitated a moment before taking off, Rebecca sprinting, Shaun as fast as he could go.
Lucy leaned over him and pressed her shift, now balled up, to his abdomen. "Desmond, Desmond," she said and touched his face.
"I'm alive still," he said, staring up at her.
"What happened?" she asked in a whisper.
"Someone wanted me to hurt you," he said. "I couldn't. I wouldn't," he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek.
She held them there. "Stay with me," she said, "don't sleep no matter what."
Desmond smiled tiredly, "I won't," he promised. "So long as you stay with me too." Lucy put more pressure on the wound. When Desmond glanced down he saw that her shirt was already deep red from his blood. "Its pretty bad isn't it?"
"You'll be okay," she promised, still holding his hand to her face.
"Promise?"
"I promise. Who'll keep me safe if you're gone?" she asked.
"Fuck, you're right," Desmond said, licking his lips, he tasted a lot of blood. At least being horizontal seemed to be keeping the blood out of his mouth.
Several minutes passed and they stayed there on the ground. "Hey Lucy," he said.
"Yeah?" she asked, her hand still gently cupping his face, even though Desmond's hand had fallen away. He'd lost too much blood and was getting weaker. His body was starting to go into shock, and that wasn't the worst of it.
He smiled at the absolute absurdity of it all, that fate had twisted itself like this. He knew things he shouldn't, saw a future timeline disintegrate into sand right before his mind's eye as he said, "There's blood in my lungs," and when he breathed it was laborious.
"You're going to be all right," Lucy said fiercely.
But Desmond didn't feel afraid. He knew he'd done the right thing. He wouldn't have to suffer after this moment. "Its okay," he said.
"No it isn't," she snapped and checked behind her for Shaun and Rebecca.
"I don't think they'll be in time," Desmond said. "I guess I cut a bit too deep," and his breathing was wet and gross sounding.
"Don't talk like that. You're going to be all right," she said, leaning over him.
"No, I'm not. But its okay."
"Desmond-
"I've seen this before. I killed you, because I wasn't strong enough. This time… this time I was," he smiled and reached up, touching her face. "I saved you from a horrific, degrading, fate," and the memory of what the proeathans had done to recreate her made tears jump to his eyes. He'd have taken any feelings he had back if it meant she could just rest.
"Desmond stop talking."
He laughed a little, coughed, and turned his head away from her to spit out several mouthfuls of nearly black heart's blood. "I will in a minute," he said weakly, and yeah his body was going into shock and shutting down. He knew because he'd experienced it before in the Animus, dragging his damaged body through the streets, waiting to recover or to find a doctor for some 'medicine' branded health packs. "I just wanna tell you something first."
"What?" she asked, trembling, looking down at him.
"I think you're the most amazing girl I've ever known. And I know you're a Templar," she froze. "I need you to leave me here."
"No," she said.
"If you don't, my father will find you. He knows. You know he doesn't take well to failure," he said tiredly. "He'll want to kill you, especially since I'm about to die on your watch."
"You aren't going to die," she said thickly.
"Yeah I am," he licked his lips, it was all blood. "I know what it feels like to die. I've done it a hundred times already. Don't— don't make me changing destiny end up with you dead anyway," he tried to swallow, and barely could. "Please, just leave before they get here."
"Desmond-
"Lucy, this is the last thing you can do for me."
Her lips trembled, "I will," she said and then suddenly wiped her eyes. "I will," she said again.
"Good," Desmond sighed and relaxed, eyes closing a moment before he opened them again slowly. Lucy wasn't holding her shirt to his stomach anymore and Desmond was now laying in a pool of his own blood. Even if she did it wouldn't do much good, it was completely soaked in blood and totally useless. "Thank you," he said weakly.
"For what?" she asked, "All I've done is hurt you," and she looked an inch away from crying.
"For giving a shit about me, when no one else really ever did." She grabbed his face in both hands, both were stained with his blood in some way, and pressed her lips to Desmond's firmly. He didn't have the energy to kiss her back. Instead he just breathed out and didn't end up breathing back in. When Lucy felt him go lifelessly still she sat back up and stared at the podium where the Apple had been and let some tears flow down her cheeks.
She stubbornly scrubbed the tears away with her jacket sleeve and then got up, and did exactly what Desmond had begged her to do. She left him there for the Assassins to find.
The Assassins weren't the first ones to find Desmond though and instead three wraiths came out from the dim teal light to stand over Desmond's dead body. They had a hushed conversation between them and then one bent down and picked the Apple up from the ground where it had rolled out of Desmond's fingers. The chamber was filled with a golden light and the sound of singing.
—
When Desmond looked down the street he saw proeathans for the first time. Decked out in armor with guns and taking up the entire street.
"They came to pick me up," D2 said, looking back at the proeathans, "since I failed. And to pick him up too," he pointed at Desmond.
"Not on my watch," Altair said, slowly backing up from Desmond's clone.
"He could come with us," Desmond said, since his clone looked like he knew he was so fucked. He'd failed. He was going to get in so much trouble for this. Desmond sort of felt bad for him. He didn't know what it was like, but he could imagine what sort of punishment they'd wreck upon the poor guy for failing to integrate successfully. Even though he was a clone he had an attachment to his body in that he didn't like seeing things mutilate it.
"No way," Altair said. "He said he wanted to kill you several times."
"But also that the proeathans would be pissed if he did," Desmond reminded him.
"Oh I want to kill you," D2 said.
"Why? You'd get in trouble?"
"Core function: kill Desmond Miles. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules, I just follow them," D2 said.
"Shame, you were kinda awesome."
"Well, I am you," D2 still hadn't moved from where he was sitting.
"Stop flirting with yourself, it's weird," Jake said.
"You're the one who thought we were going to make out," D2 said. "Someone's got a kink," he said with a smirk.
"Shut up," Jake said, but looked both mortified and horrified and embarrassed by that statement.
"Gross," Hawk informed them.
"Uh, guys, they're getting closer," Ezio said. At least someone had the priority to keep watching the proeathans. They were a block away now. "I think now would be a good time to run."
"What he said," Hawk said.
"You guys go," Altair said, "I'll hold them."
"Altair-
"I'll hold them," he shot a look at Ezio who'd spoken.
"Just make sure you run away too," Ezio said.
"I got it. Now go. Make sure they don't get him," Altair ordered.
"Okay," and Ezio grabbed Desmond's arm. "C'mon Des."
Desmond stumbled a little as Ezio pulled him away, but then he dug in. Something didn't feel right. "Des-
"Wait," Desmond looked back at his clone, who was still just sitting there and Altair was standing in the middle of the street armed only with his hidden blade, ready to wreck some hell.
"Desmond we have to go," Ezio grabbed him to drag him away. It was like when Ezio tried to drag him away from Altair back in Dubai and he'd had to watch Altair die. This was different though. This time he wasn't worried about Altair, he was worried about himself.
He shook Ezio off and before Ezio could grab him again he went and grabbed his clone by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "You're coming with us," he said and shoved D2 forward.
"Little Bird what are you doing?" Hawk demanded.
"I'm not going to let them do anything bad to him," Desmond said.
"You can't save everyone, Little Bird."
Desmond looked at the three of them. They'd known about the plantations, about the horrors in the world that had befallen their people. "Not with you three telling me what I can do I can't," Desmond said. "He's coming with us," and he had D2 by the back of the neck.
"Ffffffff—ine," Hawk swore. "With me, the rest of you, meet back at the parking garage as soon as you're able."
"Are you sure?" Jake asked.
"No," Hawk snapped, "But its how it is," he sent a hard look at Desmond. Ezio just nodded and bolted. "Lets go," he told Desmond as they heard the sounds of Altair fighting the proeathans.
Desmond grabbed D2 by the arm and dragged his clone along behind Hawk at a jog, D2 having to keep up or suffer face planting into the ground.
They followed Hawk down the street, around several corners and into an apartment building and up a flight of stairs. There the short Bostonian grabbed D2 and pushed him onto the floor and drew his cane sword, flicking it out to full length and putting it to D2's throat.
"What the hell are you doing Little Bird?" Hawk demanded.
"I couldn't leave him," Desmond said.
"He wants to kill you," Hawk hissed.
Desmond looked down at D2, who was staring at Hawk's cane sword only a few centimeters from his throat and pinning him to the wall warily. "I couldn't," Desmond said. "He's me."
"He is not you, he's a clone."
"I know that. But its like he's me, like if the proeathans actually got to me," and Hawk frowned deeply. "I'd hate myself for letting them get to me."
"Altair is going to be pissed."
"Altair can get the fuck over himself," Desmond said. "This is my apocalypse, not his. He's coming with us."
"He still wants to kill you."
"He won't," Desmond said.
"You're so sure?" Hawk asked.
When Desmond looked down at D2 they were looking back at him. "I'm like his big brother," he said and watched D2's eyes widen a bit. "He'd never hurt his big brother."
"Fuck you," D2 growled. "You're not my big brother."
"Not yet," Desmond said and looked back at Hawk. "I need you to make him believe that," he said.
Hawk was staring at him aghast, "You know what you're asking me, right?" Hawk asked.
"I do," Desmond said. "But to keep him safe I need to be safe too. He needs to think I'm not me."
"I don't even know if it'll work," Hawk said. "His memories are probably all just Animus functions. He's literally just a Bleed of you. I don't know it's possible."
"Try," Desmond said. "That's all I ask. Just try."
Hawk frowned and looked down at D2. "So what? You want to be Duncan now?"
Desmond shook his head, "No," Desmond looked back down at D2. "Our parents just had three sons, instead of two."
"Fuck… fine," and Hawk snapped his cane sword back into the retracted position and pulled his Apple from his coat. "One little brother, coming up," and the Apple started to glow gently, the light reflecting in D2's eyes and for a brief moment while the Apple sang Desmond swore he heard screaming.
—
It was Pluto, hovering just above the ground wearing flowing robes that make him appear etherial. The conversation they'd just had played back to Desmond in a loop and he felt like he was having a horrible sense of deja vu. For a moment he froze and couldn't move, staring at the hologram.
Pluto cocked his head to the side at Desmond. And then time seemed to rapidly speed up and he was caught back up in the moment. He shook his head a bit. What the fuck had that deja vu been? It was like he'd lived this before. Or was remembering a dream he'd had a long time ago. He was supposed to say something here.
"So, uh, what now? You said I'm something like... a prophesied hero... or something," Desmond said slowly, testing out the words. But it wasn't just 'or something'. It was more than that, he knew it was more than that but he just couldn't piece the two thoughts together. What he knew teased him just outside of ability to remember.
"Indeed," Pluto said, "You are more like us then any human has ever been." It was like watching a movie he'd watched when he was young but didn't really remember. So familiar, but yet not.
"All right. So, what am I supposed to do? Save the world, right?" There was nearly a script in front of him. He knew he needed to say things, do things.
"And restore the planet to its original condition. Erase wars and end corruption and stop your kind from marching towards their own destruction. If you choose to do so."
He stopped fighting the deja vu took a deep breath, going with it, "Big job."
"And very important."
"So this is a... totally hypothetical question. But say that my brother was here in my place. Any idea what he'd do?" But Desmond did know.
"We saw this as well. He was not strong enough to do what needed to be done. He left and let the world fall to ruin. Within a few decades at the least, few centuries at most, you people will have a drought of fresh water. The Water Wars will begin and entire parts of the world will cease to exist."
"Then... why would he leave? He wouldn't just have let that happen," Desmond insisted. It didn't sound like Duncan at all. He was a bleeding heart and didn't want anyone to get hurt. No… no that wasn't right. That was a shadow of a memory of a child. There was something else there, that he knew wasn't right. This wasn't right. That didn't sound like Duncan.
"You are not your brother, your brother is not you. He would have not done it. He prescribed to your organization's teachings, everyone has a choice. He believed people were better then what we said and he would have taken the risk of the world ripping itself apart over water, for there was a slim chance that it wouldn't. He would have bet on that slim chance."
That did and didn't sound like his brother. Memories were conflicting. Part of him said that yes, his brother was an idealist, a dreamer, but another part said that no he wasn't. The dreamer had had his wings cut off by garden shears. "Well, I'm not my brother," his mouth refused to obey him and just kept saying the lines. He needed to change it though. There was a change here, what Pluto was saying didn't mesh with the brother he remembered.
"We were counting on that," Pluto said pleasantly. A feeling of unease hit him, he'd missed it the first time. He'd done this before. He'd missed that tell the first time.
"I'm not really an optimist. In my life if there's a chance shit will go wrong, it will, and it'll do so sooner, rather then later."
"A wise stance," Pluto said. "So, what are you going to do?"
"I… I guess," Desmond said, breaking the script. It made his tongue feel light all the sudden.
"It starts here," Pluto said and motioned to the pillar, the pulsations were still increasing in speed and Desmond tried to get his heart rate to slow down, at least be normal. He was supposed to do this. This was his destiny. Right? He was prophesied, nothing could go wrong. It shouldn't. All he wanted to do was fix everything. But he couldn't remember what was broken. Something had changed and he couldn't remember what. Some important moment had been altered and this entire conversation felt wrong.
Desmond moved closer to the pillar, and while still perfectly smooth he saw a design had appeared on it lit in glue like some high tech tablet. The design was the outline of a handprint. Desmond's knew it was his handprint just like it was his heartbeat the tower and Apple were pulsing to the beat of.
"So what? I just put my hand on it?"
"Yes. That will start the process, once it is done, we'll take care of the rest," he smiled nicely at him.
"Then what?" another break in the script.
"So much," Pluto said, "There is so much to do. But we can't do any of it until you start it."
"Then what?" Desmond pressed again, not moving, looking at Pluto.
"I told you-
"Tell me more," Desmond said, this was different. This was the change. He remembered this scene now in crisp clarity. He'd walked blindly into the trap.
"I will once you-
"Pluto," Desmond said, "I'm ordering you to tell me," and Pluto blinked in surprise.
"What makes you think you can order me?" Pluto asked.
Desmond looked down at himself, he'd taken off his jacket already, standing in his shirt, to ask what they were. He'd been so naive back then, so foolish. Jumping head first into a pitch black ocean. As he watched the glyphs started to spread down his arms, burning themselves into his skin. It was as close to the surface of the reality of his existence as he'd gotten so far. He could manipulate the memories to some degrees now. The insight unlocked the changed memories and he saw them pile up in his mind's eye.
Now he knew why Pluto's words about his brother seemed so weird, why several memories conflicted against each other. He saw himself die half the time in Juno instead of Lucy. He'd saw the changes in history just once stupid mistake he'd made growing up could have changed. Some of the times when he felt he was followed he stayed and lingered, to see who was following him, and it would be Altair or Ezio or Hawk. Some of those times he confronted them, some of them he ran. The times he confronted them his teenage years outside of the Farm didn't suck so much.
Sometimes Duncan lived, but every time their father died. Duncan as an adult wasn't like the scared, depressed, teenage boy Desmond remember. He was like Desmond; he was a weapon. But Desmond was a well crafted knife with a nearly invisibly sharp edge, the perfect offensive weapon in the right hands but useless without direction. Duncan was like a pair of gauntlets. Not for smashing or punching, but skilled enough to use dangerous weapons to protect themselves from the many sharp knives in the world. They were both uniquely fitted weapons, one to attack, the other defend. But God help you if you got between Duncan and what he was trying to protect.
Sometimes Duncan died and Desmond became him. Other times he became the son their father always wanted. The perfect Assassin. Sometimes still he was the one who put the knife through Andrew's neck.
Other memories involved the way his life had gone in reality. At Abstergo he'd done things differently, he hadn't played so stupid, admitted to what he was. He hadn't gone with Lucy during the 'break out', knowing it would make things different. He'd been nearly self aware in that change. He'd wanted to see what would happen if he refused to play the runaway. Sometimes in Abstergo he'd gone up behind Vidic and the old man had paid him no mind until Desmond had his hands around the old man's throat.
Some memories had involved Jacob or Lucy. But they felt so… fluffy. Sometimes he picked Jacob and nothing bad had happened to him. Sometimes he just left Jacob after his nap and never looked back. It was his fault after all, that Jake was like this. The ones about Lucy seemed dull compared to seeing her recently. Something was different about those memories than the reality, he couldn't quite figure it out. There wasn't a single retry he'd told her he loved her.
That was the point of all of this. To see all this shit and make it through to the other side. To face every bad decision he'd made or could have ever made and try it again. And when he made a different decision it opened so many more. Tiamat had said this would make him 'better', as she and Cain seemed so keen on calling it now.
Well, he was certainly better now.
"Because I'm in control now," Desmond said looking up at Pluto.
"Just touch the monitor," Pluto said.
Desmond looked at it, he could, if he wanted to. Was this the change he needed to make? He didn't remember retrying this one before, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. What was the other choice here? "No," he said.
"Fool," Pluto said and the room was bathed in a yellow light. "You will obey, human," he said, "Touch the monitor."
Desmond looked up at him and then stepped aside. "No," he said, grinning. "You can't make me. Your people tried before, but even a not-stadalla was enough to take you out."
"Come back here," Pluto ordered, with every ounce of will he had. Desmond felt it as a twitch across his scalp.
"No," Desmond said. "Not this time, or any time. The proeathans can keep sleeping."
The fact that he knew what the proeathans were didn't seem to alter the memory of 'what if' too much. "Obey," Pluto said, "Or suffer the consequences."
"Consequences of what? You can't hurt me." He wasn't going to be controlled any more. Usually though when he made the 'correct' change he stopped living the groundhog day, moved to the next. This was the correct change. Wasn't it?
Nothing happened, Pluto said nothing, Desmond didn't move. Like they were two actors waiting for the next line. This… wasn't the right change. He looked down at his hands, the glyphs were gone. He wasn't the stadalla, not yet at any rate. He was just Desmond, powerless, who didn't command the AI of the proeathans. The AI who woke the proeathans and would stop at nothing to get them to wake.
That was the change.
Desmond went over to the pillar and pressed his hand to it. "What are you-" there was the prick but Desmond didn't pull his hand back as the machine took his blood. The machine drank and Desmond locked eyes with Pluto.
"You will not be waking the proeathans," Desmond said.
"Excuse me?" Pluto asked.
"You will not be waking the proeathans. At least until I say."
"You get no say."
"Wrong. You're my AI now, I get all the say."
"You presumptuous-
"Silence," and Pluto's mouth closed right up and he looked confused. "I won't let this world end," he said. It was his biggest mistake, the largest source of his guilt. That he'd allowed the deaths of nearly six billion people. "Not this time." Pluto looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't. "Bring my friends here, we're going to figure this out." Pluto did nothing. "I said do it!" Desmond snapped. Pluto scowled at him.
"Desmond?" he heard Ezio's voice from the tunnel.
"Not so hard when you know who's in charge huh?" Desmond said and Pluto just glared at him. "Big room," he called back to them and finally took his hand off the pillar. He smiled when the others entered the room to various noises of shock and awe. It'd be different this time. He wouldn't be alone this time.
I mention a lot more scenarios than what I wrote as happening/Desmond reexperianced. As I said in the last chapter of Tincture I scrapped it because it didn't fit the theme I wanted in this chapter. Changes in memory I mention here will probably end up in Tincture at some point.
And the theme of this chapter is simple and why I scapped out Centuries in the first place. These are obvious 'mistakes' in Desmond's life that make him feel overwhelming guilt. Centuries isn't a 'guilt' as it never actually happened in his life, it is a way his life could have gone if he'd seen how much pain Duncan was in and how much Duncan needed him.