It was getting to be dark. He knew it was because his internal clock told him it was. He was still waiting. They'd given him lunch, a sandwich and a bag of chips, a bottle of water to wash it down. It was still sitting where they'd left it for him just inside the door. He knew better then to eat it. It could be laced with something, poison, or more likely, a sedative.
He knew, without a hesitation, that the others were looking for him. Fuck they'd probably found him already, they were just waiting to see what he'd do. He wondered if they were inside the fence by now. It seemed likely to him, of the four three of them could move like silent shadows even without an Apple. Jake was still loud, out of and not enough practice in moving stealthily, but he was learning again quickly. Just like Desmond learned quickly, pre knowledge to do something before they could actually do it.
The sun had set now. It was surprisingly late, almost eight. He was about to get up from the floor- it was more comfortable then that chair- when the doorknob turned. He stayed very still as it turned and the door opened slowly.
Desmond said nothing. Did nothing. He just looked up at the man who came into the room. "Hello Desmond," Andrew said.
Everything about them was both the same and different. Desmond had his father's face shape, though his was wider, more full, and could pull off facial hair. Desmond couldn't. His hair was black to Desmond's brown and short, gray running through it. Desmond's hair had grown out in the past six months, but his hair always grew slowly and thus was still an adequate length that didn't drive him insane. Andrew had more fine lines on his face then Desmond remembered, circles deeper under his eyes that sagged, like he didn't sleep much, kept up by ghosts. But Desmond was fit and the color of bronze from the sun, darker them even his natural skin tone he'd inherited from his mother. Andrew was pale and gray, he didn't go out I'm the sun much it seemed and while he had mass there was no muscle behind it. He was not a warrior like Desmond was, he was a pencil pusher.
"Hi dad," he said without any inflection at all.
Andrew's smile was old and thin and lacked any warmth. "Good to see you again."
"That what you tell yourself at night?" he asked, "that it'd be good to see your worthless son again?"
Andrew frowned, it was an expression that even after ten years Desmond would recognize anywhere. It was disappointment, a look common on his face that always drove Desmond nuts. He'd looked this way when he'd found out what Duncan had done. Not even sad just... disappointed. He was also so fucking disappointed in his children. They were never good enough for him. "You aren't worthless," Andrew told him.
"Now I'm not," Desmond said, he was still sitting, arms on his knees. "Now I fit into your fucking 'plan'," he even did air quotes. Andrew said nothing and Desmond sighed, hanging his head between his knees, against his chest. "On the way back to America you know what I thought?"
"What?" Andrew asked, his voice low, he wasn't paying Desmond any attention. Even now, when his son was right in front of him, his mind was elsewhere.
"I thought about committing patricide," he said just loud enough for his father to hear. "You know what that means?" be asked, head still bowed.
"Yes."
"It means I wanted to kill you!" he answered anyway, ending in a yell, looking right at Andrew. "I wanted to fucking kill you for what you've done. It's because of you that I kept having to go into the Animus, even when my mind was fraying at the edges and I was being mentally pulled apart at the seems," he shrugged to his feet. He was taller then his father, good. "You told Lucy to keep me in, push me to do more. It was killing me Did you know that? No, better question, I'm sure you knew that. Did you care? Care that your only son was dying? Or were you finally just happy I wasn't being a total fuck up like you thought I was growing up?" he wasn't yelling, no, not that. His anger had been leeched of heat and rage after his first outburst. Now he was just icy and so cold that the room could have dropped a few degrees from how cold his voice was.
"I was doing what I thought was best," his father said.
"For who dad? For fucking who? Not me obviously," he stepped closer to Andrew, able to look down on him. The last time he'd seen his old man he'd just started his growth spurt, he was a late bloomer. Now he was fully grown and taller then his father by a few inches. It felt amazing to be able to physically be taller than him.
"We all have to make sacrifices Desmond," Andrew said calmly, sounding like nothing. "Some of us more then most."
"And this was supposed to be my sacrifice? My life, for something I never wanted, an organization I was a part of only by birth. That was it?" he asked cooly.
A silence settled. Desmond's now quiet rage and Andrew's stony indifference. Desmond knew he didn't care. He could tell in the fact that he was looking through Desmond, hearing what he was saying, but not reacting to it. Eventually Andrew asked, "What do you want from me Desmond?"
"What do- what do I want? I think that's the first time you've asked me that in my life. I want a lot. I'll settle for an apology. For ruining my life, my brother's life-
"Don't bring the dead into this," Andrew said. "Your brother was a coward and couldn't handle what was asked of him and every child at the Farm. He killed himself because he was weak."
"Is that what you think? Really? That that was why Duncan killed himself? Oh that's rich. Do you want to know why he really killed himself? It was because of you. Because you were never happy with anything we did. Ever. Because you were always busy and never had time for us. Because you were busy fucking other women while your family held on without you. You didn't raise him or me, someone a lot more worthy of being our father taught him the things he'd need to know about the world. And he raised me better then you ever could."
"I had the Farm to run. Your mother-
"Couldn't even look at me!" now he yelled. "She hated me and acted like I wasn't even there. Parents of the fucking universe go to Andrew and Kaley Miles," and he clapped sarcastically. There was another long silence and then he asked, because he had to ask. "Is she dead?" his voice was quiet. Lucy had told him about the attack on the Farm, she thought he'd be worried for his parents. He hadn't been, not really.
"May god rest her soul," was all Andrew said.
Desmond just smiled bitterly, "Good for her. Got away from you."
"Don't say that about your mother."
"I'm not. I'm saying it about you. Better she doesn't have to deal with a lying, cheating husband anymore," Andrew now focused on him. Of course. He wouldn't when he was talking about Desmond, but mention Kaley and bam, reaction. "One who would put his entire family on the back burner for what he wanted. Well," he extended his hands to Andrew, "you got it dad. Are you happy now?" he actually asked it seriously as his hands dropped back down to his sides. "Or are you still the angry, abusive asshole I remember when I was a kid?"
"I was never abusive. I never hurt you or your brother."
"No, but you made others hurt us. Kids. You were making kids hurt each other. Or do you forget how Duncan ended up in the hospital in the first place? Your negligence," and he laughed meanly. "Always comes back to it doesn't it? I ran away, Duncan killed himself, fuck I was born, because you can't look after the things you should."
"Are you just here to lecture me boy?" Andrew asked, and in this they were the same. He could hear his father's patience wearing out. He could take the abuse, just like Desmond, but eventually he had enough.
"I'm still waiting for that apology for screwing everything up actually," he said, staring him down.
"I did nothing wrong."
"You almost got me killed!" he yelled, then he turned away rubbing the back of his head. "Fuck why did I bother?" he asked himself. "You're just like you were. Selfish. I thought maybe since you got what you wanted you'd have changed," he smirked meanly back at the older man, "Looks like that's a no." Andrew said nothing. "Nothing to say then dad?" he asked sarcastically with a sort of sigh. "No great words of wisdom? Not even asking me to help. Or do I not get a choice again? You're just expecting me to be a good little soldier and do what you say… like I used to, so you wouldn't look at me like I was such a failure."
"We do need your help," Andrew said.
"Wonderful," Desmond said, "with what?"
"The Temple is here. We can't find it. You could."
"And why should I help you?"
"Because if you don't the Templars could find it first, and then all would be lost."
"That isn't a reason. Why should I help you?" he asked it slowly so there was no misunderstanding his meaning.
Andrew blinked at him, "Because you're my blood, my son. I know you don't want to fail me, not really," and if that wasn't a cold hand around his heart nothing was.
"Is that the best you've got? Really?"
"It's the truth. You wouldn't be here, or have threatened one of your old cell mates to see me if you really didn't want anything to do with me. I want to be proud of you Desmond. Do something to make me proud," and all the color drained from Desmond's face.
"Would you have been proud of me if I'd died? In the Animus?" he asked quietly. He was scared of the answer because Andrew was right. God damnit he was right and it hurt. Desmond still just wanted daddy's approval, like he had growing up, trying to show he wasn't Duncan, he wasn't like anyone else. He was just himself and his parents should love him because of that, not in spite of it.
"You were actually doing good there son."
"I was dying," Desmond stressed.
"Our operatives die all the time, for a much less noble cause then helping us permanently end this war." Desmond just looked at his father hopelessly. "Staying in the Animus would have been a noble death."
Desmond pressed his hand over his mouth and looked down, he couldn't even look at Andrew. Then he glanced up and at the door. Through the little window he could see movement and his brow furrowed. Andrew followed his line of sight in time for the door to be pushed open without any restraint. "I think that's enough of that," Altair said, standing in the door, Ezio and Hawk were standing in the not-a-tent behind him, grim faced and serious.
"Melik?"
"Took you long enough," Desmond and Andrew said at the same time.
"Hello Andy," Altair said with the coldest, meanest smile he'd ever seen the ancient make and stepped into the room with them. He then flicked his wrist and his hidden blade shot out, resting between his little and middle finger. He raised his arm and put the tip of his hidden blade against his father's throat.
"Melik, what are you doing here?" Andrew was clearly confused.
"Melik?" Desmond asked.
"I went by that name in the eighties," was Altair's only reply, "I've been a lot of people," his eyes only flicked briefly at Desmond. "Now, Andy," he continued to look at his father. "I remember the last time I saw you I promised myself that the next time I saw you, I'd kill you. Greedy, selfish, cheating, lying Andy Miles," he said it like a rhyme. "You're name's been on my blade for about thirty years. Most people don't like that long when I decide it's their time," Andrew swallowed. "Should I kill you in front of your boy though?"
"You'll regret this. I'm the Mentor," he said, his head tipped back to avoid Altair's knife point.
"I killed Marcus. And then Daniel killed Jefferson. Maybe I'll actually get that hat trick, three Mentors in a hundred years. Haven't done that since the thirteen fifties when the Order was about to tear itself apart and there was a new Mentor every two years it seemed."
"Don't," they both looked at Desmond when he spoke. "Don't kill him."
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather he know he lost, then to just kill him."
Altair smiled, "Go, Hawk's got your things."
"You won't kill him?"
"No. I won't," Altair promised. Desmond nodded and walked past them. "Nice boy you got there Andy," Altair was saying as he went and joined Hawk and Ezio, when he looked in the rest of the not-a-tent, he saw Jake standing by the front door at the end of the tube. "But he's ours now," and Desmond slipped on his hidden blade even as Ezio was starting to propel him towards the exit. "Next time I see you I will kill you, when he isn't around to-" but then they were out of earshot and he missed the rest of it.
Outside the not-a-tent there was a strange silence in the compound. "What did you do?" Desmond asked.
"Drugged dinner," Hawk said. "They all went to sleep tonight and won't wake up till tomorrow afternoon, here," and he handed Desmond his Apple. He nearly fell over.
FIND IT
Ezio caught him when he stumbled. "You okay Desmond?" he asked.
"Yeah I just…" he shook his head.
FIND IT
"Does anyone else hear that?" Desmond asked.
"Hear what?" Hawk asked.
LET ME SHOW YOU
"That voice."
"Voice?"
"What's it saying?" Ezio asked.
"Find it. Let me show you."
LET ME SHOW YOU, it said again and really it was hard to hear anyway. It was quiet, like something speaking softly into his ear.
"Show you?" they were all confused now.
Then the Apple lit up without him doing anything, LET ME SHOW YOU. FOLLOW, and a thin beam of light shot out of the Apple towards the outcrop.
"Please tell me you see this," Desmond asked.
"The Apple's active, yeah," Hawk said.
"No, that," he pointed where the beam of light was pointing.
"There's nothing there- hey! Little Bird," Hawk called after him as he started to follow it, like he was compelled to do so. But not like how the Apple compelled him to do so, more like he just wanted to do it. He was curious and needed to find out where it was going. Needed to know. The others quickly followed him as he walked to the outcrop where the Assassins had been digging. There was a crude tunnel and Desmond went in, following the light.
The lights inside the tunnel had been turned off. He went into Eagle Vision, because his now good night sight was even better with it. "Oh wow," he breathed and stopped, spinning in a slow circle. The rock, which was normal under standard vision, was crisscrossed with what was very obviously Ancient geometric patterns, like the ones on his arm, bleeding teal at the edges.
"What are you seeing?" Ezio asked.
"You can't see it?" he turned to Ezio and Hawk. Their eyes were golden, but didn't seem to see.
"No. What is it?"
"It's like the inside of a Temple," he traced out a pattern only he could see on the wall and then turned away, heading deeper into the tunnel.
It ended in about fifty more feet, abruptly coming to a halt. Here there was a piece of smooth stone. But the Apple wasn't pointing to it. It was pointing to some normal looking rock where a great array of the designs converged in a multi-armed star. Ezio and Hawk approached the smooth stone even as Desmond stepped to the side, putting the Apple in his pocket. "The Temple?" Ezio asked.
"Has to be," Hawk said, "Though… it looks strange."
"Well that's just great, cause I can't see jack shit in this place," Jake suddenly said.
"Don't touch it," Hawk warned Ezio as he made to touch the smooth stone, which had obviously been put there.
"The Assassins have been it can't be that dangerous."
"Still don't."
Meanwhile Desmond wasn't listening. Slowly, he put his hand on the middle of where the star seemed to form and his head jerked up as the entire scene pulsed and a blip of bright light raced out from the center. "Oh wow. You guys have to tell me you saw that," and then he turned around to find the others.
They were gone, and so was the bit of smooth stone.
Shit.
