For a long time, the only sound in the Sanctuary was the shuffling of papers, the quick tapping of Rebecca's fingers on the keyboard, and Desmond's labored breathing from inside the Animus. Since they didn't have any proper beds or blankets with them, Lucy had suggested he sleep in the Animus. It was better than nothing, at the very least. But that only remedied part of the problem. They had no sort of antibiotics to give the newest member of the group, and couldn't risk going into town to get some from the pharmacy. All they could do was let the fever run its course.

When her thoughts reached Desmond, Lucy glanced up worriedly from her work. He was coated in a sheen of cold sweat, but shivering violently. The vomiting had stopped, at the very least, but it was quickly replaced with gut-wrenching coughing fits that brought up blood and a thick, yellow-green mucus. Every cough sounded as if he was dying. And the way things were going for him, he would.


Malik stared in complete awe and outrage at the object that thrummed softly from within the honed talons of the eagle. This was the only solution the Brotherhood could possibly come up with?! This artifact? The very object that drove their former Master to insanity, that pushed the Templars and Assassins to the edge of war, and turned skilled and cunning warriors into mindless drones?!

Perhaps Altair was not the only one who still remained a novice after all this time.

The bureau leader sighed in frustration as he snatched the object from the eagle, which gave an indignant squawk at being knocked of its makeshift perch. At the moment Malik's hand brushed the smooth surface of the object, it began to pulse gently, the silver object softening until it felt as warm ad gentle as human flesh. It was resonating with something hidden within him, within everyone.

He frowned at it, pondering the impossible question it posed. The gentle purring of the Apple continued, yielding no sort of answer. Yes, it definitely responded to something, but exactly what, he had no idea. No one did. Some of the Brotherhood could activate it, some couldn't. Even the strength of the reaction varied from person to person. Most of the time, the artifact did little more than glow a bit for most people. But for those higher up, it hummed, warming under a person's palm. Very few elicited the reaction Malik did, making the object soften like it did. But with Altair . . . the reaction was several times more powerful than anyone else could, including the late master.

He sighed again, a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. Such a trivial thing should be left for those who pretended to have knowledge about the thing. There was something serious he had to attend to, after all. As if sensing his thoughts, Altair turned over in his sleep, a mild shudder running down his spine. The tension in the man's muscles had not loosened at all, which meant he was still suffering great pain.

In his hand, the Apple hummed loudly and began to glow even more powerfully. The thing was actually responding to the man, echoing the pain it could feel from him with comfort. The rafiq shook his head in disbelief, placing the artifact next to his comrade as he did so.

"This will mean the death of us." He muttered, just before the night around him blazed in a soft golden light.


Several hours after his initial collapse, Desmond still had not woken up from the deep slumber brought on by the fever. The entire time, Lucy worked to keep his temperature down while Shawn and Rebecca continued to fine-tune their equipment. Rebecca worked furiously at the Animus, trying to modify the code so nothing like this would happen again. She seemed to be working the hardest out of all of them, despite what Shawn may say to that statement. But, of course, it didn't mean they all didn't work hard, not at all.

Lucy sighed, walking back towards her desk for the first time in hours, rolling her aching shoulders as she went. Desmond's temperature had finally stabilized somewhat, and she really could use a rest. Plus, she didn't want to disturb him now he was sleeping so peacefully. She looked back at their youngest member and smiled fondly at the mildly peaceful expression. After all this time, she had noticed that he was either scowling or grinning like an idiot. He never wore such a relaxed expression around anyone.

A soft golden light emanated from the small chest resting in the center of the room, accompanied by a powerful humming that vibrated the entire container. Rebecca looked up in interest, approaching the box slowly, like it might explode if she moved too quickly. Shawn's gaze hadn't left his work, but his shoulders were visibly tensed. There was a ringing silence between them, while the hum carried on, echoing all throughout the safe house. It was Rebecca who finally broke the half-silence.

"The Apple is . . . reacting to something?"

"It seems so. But reacting to what?"

"Most likely Desmond." Both girls jumped as Shawn chimed in to the conversation. He had slid up next to the chest, studying the rays of light emanating from the object inside. "He and his ancestors bring the greatest reaction out of the Pieces of Eden, as far as we know, and he seems to be in some kind of distress, so it could be that."

Both girls shared a skeptical look before Rebecca glanced over at Shawn again. A challenge danced just behind the self-important glint Shawn always seemed to have in his eyes. Instead of taking up the man and his false bravado, she stalked up to the box and snapped open the two metal clasps holding the lid down.

Immediately after, the light intensified until it was like the sun had landed in the room. A high, keening ring resonated from the box, growing louder and louder until it became nearly unbearable levels. Everyone in the room clapped their hands over their ears, eyes screwed shut, as the light and sound intensified even further. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The light faded away, and the shrill keen ceased along with it. When no trace of the two elements remained except for a ringing in the temple.

Desmond shot upwards, gasping for breath and coated in sweat, eyes burning golden and staring straight ahead.

"Desmond!" Rebecca streaked to her friend's side, placing a hand on his tensed shoulders. "Are you okay?" When she asked, she began to rub soothing circles into the muscles, which he gratefully relaxed into. She repeated her question as his breathing steadied itself, sand he nodded slowly, but his eyes remained an eerie golden luster.

"My room . . ." He whispered, just barely audible over the echoes throughout the gigantic chamber.

"What?" That seemed to snap him out of his stupor. He blinked several times over until his eyes returned to normal, and he turned to face Rebecca. An almost trancelike concentration still glazed his pupils.

"In my room . . ." Lucy's eyes met Rebecca's for a split second before the both of them sprinted into the room closed off for the team's newest member. Both gasped in shock at the sight that greeted them.

Lying feet from the bed was the motionless form of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad.


Holy fucking shit crud bitch. This is one of the worst chapters of any story I've written so far. I am so sorry for this. But I know you guys were eager for a new chapter so I tried to get it out as fast as I could. Once again, I am so so sorry for this, I'll try to do better in the future. Anyway, thanks to any of you who suffered through this chapter for me! Until next time, buh bye!