Desmond watches the stars.
He's been doing that a lot these past few months, mostly because there's not much else to do, trapped in an eagle's body as he is. The boredom should bother him more, really, but most of the time it just… doesn't seem to matter. Flying as an eagle feels like everything good about flying as a human, but amplified and improved a hundredfold.
Human bodies, no matter what changes have been made to them, are not really designed to fly. Desmond had thought he knew what it meant to really fly, but until being reborn as an eagle he'd never realized how much his weight and size and general shape were holding him back. For all he had lost since dying, he has gained something as well. True, beautiful flight, the likes of which he's never even imagined. It's only at night, when exhaustion pulls at his wings and forces him down, that his mind starts to dwell on everything he's lost.
But tonight is different. Tonight, when he turns his eyes heavenward, it is not to distract himself from the usual loneliness, because he is not alone anymore. Altair is on the street below him, leaning casually against a lamppost, arms crossed, jacket hood pulled over his head, eyes scanning the crowd for the people he had come to meet.
Desmond keeps one eye on the man, too afraid of losing him again to risk looking away. But his other eye he points to the horizon, watching for an expected visitor of his own. There's no sign, though, and Desmond gives a mental eye roll and eventually gives up looking. This isn't the first time he's spent the night alone, and he's far more interested in Altair right now.
Eventually, Altair straightens, turning to greet a woman as she hurries down the street toward him. Desmond has been perched at the top of the lamppost, but flies down now to land on Altair's shoulder. He has to dig his talons in a little to keep from falling off, but Altair doesn't make any protest. If anything, he seems to brighten a little, straightening and reaching a finger up to stroke one of Desmond's feet as if he still can't believe he's real.
"What's wrong?" The woman- Rebecca, Desmond realizes, now that he's closer- looks between Altair and Desmond, confusion obvious on her face. "You sounded like something was wrong when you called. And you left to find John hours ago, is he- did you-?"
"He's alive," Altair says. "Not that he deserves it."
"Then what stopped you?" Rebecca asks.
Altair points at Desmond, and Rebecca turns her curios gaze on him. At first she only seems confused, but then she breaks into a familiar, ear splitting smile. "Hey Des," she says. "Your wings look exactly the same."
"Where's Haytham?" Altair asks, as Desmond gives Rebecca a disbelieving look. He always forgets how perceptive she can be when she wants to take the effort. "We should get out of the city."
"Still at the junkyard, I think," Rebecca says. "He should have been back already, but…" she shrugs. "Maybe he found a lead, or something."
Perfectly on cue, Rebecca's phone starts to buzz, and when she pulls it out her face melts into an expression of relief. "Haytham," she says, pressing the phone to her ear. "Where are you?"
Haytham speaks for several moments, and Altair waits in silence as Rebecca listens intently. Her eyebrows go up, and she manages a few words of agreement, and then a goodbye. "He's back at his apartment," she tells Altair. "He says he has someone with him. Someone you and he both used to know."
Desmond watches Altair's face twist up in confusion as he tries to work out who Haytham's friend might be. If he'd only had a voice, Desmond could have explained. But it's only been a few hours since he showed himself to Altair, and there is a deep weariness in his bones that prevents him from trying to seem human again so soon. Not that he could have, not in public like this. So Desmond only sighs, and ruffles his feathers. At least their reactions will be entertaining.
Edward will get a kick out of that.
-/-
Edward is at Haytham's side, looking exhausted but human, when Rebecca leads Altair and Desmond (still on the man's shoulder) into the apartment. Rebecca- who after all has never met the man- goes straight to Haytham's side and looks at him impatiently, clearly waiting for an explanation. But Altair stops in the doorway, staring at Edward like he's just seen a ghost.
Which to be fair, he sort of has.
Until tonight, none of them had known Edward might still be alive. Of course, they hadn't known Desmond could be, either, but he had 'died' less than a year ago, amid circumstances that had been about as strange and unnatural as they could get. In his opinion, coming back was almost to be expected. Edward, on the other hand, had died years ago in as cruel and unfair a way as possible. No one much liked talking about him, and it had been years before Desmond had been told anything at all about him.
Meeting Edward in person last December had nearly been enough to convince him that this must be some sort of afterlife. After all, he was seeing dead people.
He flies for hours before finally slowing.
Desmond has no idea how long he's been in the air, and he doesn't much care. He feels like he's been waiting his whole life for the absolute freedom of this moment. And besides… if he dares to slow down, even for a moment, he knows the horror of the day will finally catch up with him.
He'd died, or near enough to make no difference. His skin had burned where it touched the orb, and every cell in his body had felt like it was individually screaming in pain. Until finally he had fallen, helpless and broken, into a heap on the floor. And that should have been the end- would have been, if Minerva hadn't chosen (for reasons Desmond still doesn't fully understand) to save him.
She'd healed him, changed him, and Desmond had flown off without a second thought, into the open air and the promise of freedom that flight has always held. Where he was going, where he had come from, none of that had mattered. But it does now, and Desmond feels his wings start to shake as he remembers the people he's left behind.
He lands at last, stumbling and almost crashing as talons grip the rough bark of a branch on a nearby tree. There are no tears in him- birds don't cry. Birds don't do a lot of things. They don't speak, they don't laugh, they don't explain to their family that no, really, they're still alive, just different…
Panic rises up in Desmond then, exactly as he knew it would the moment he slowed down enough to land. It doesn't matter, whether he's alive or dead. Because as miraculous as this new gift of flight is, it's separated him from everyone he loves, just the same as if he'd really been dead.
Something lands heavily next to Desmond, and he interrupts his self-pity to snap his head around and glare at the other eagle that has landed there. Its feathers are darker than Desmond's, and it- he- is a little larger. But there is understanding in his eyes, and that's enough to keep Desmond from taking flight again immediately. Those eyes are intelligent, far more than what he'd expect from a bird.
And as he thinks back, he remembers that there had been an eagle in the temple, too. He'd seen it just before he almost died, and again as he shot through the cave on his way outside, to freedom. It had followed him, but Desmond had stopped paying attention soon after. This couldn't be the same bird. That just wasn't possible- there was no reason for some random eagle to follow him for hours and hours.
The bird shakes his feathers and looks at Desmond with something that might be sadness before shaking himself out like a wet dog- and Desmond watches in amazement as a change works its way through the eagle, as the bird seems to vanish before him, and a ghostly, human shape takes his place.
The man that had been a bird looks down at Desmond, serious despite his easy smile. "I wish we could have met in better times," he says, and his voice is rough and thoroughly out of use.. "But that's life. I'm Edward."
And that's when Desmond puts it all together, and recognizes the traces of Haytham and Connor on the stranger's face. His mind, already struggling with everything else he's been through today, nearly gives up completely in the face of this new impossibility. But then Edward starts to explain, with all the enthusiasm of a man that does not get to speak often enough.
He talks about years spent on his own, about learning to shift his form, about searching far and wide for a family that is very good at not being found. And as Desmond listens, he lets himself believe that maybe- despite the inherent impossibility of seeing Edward here- his eyes are not lying to him. This is real, and he is still alive.
And if Edward can master himself enough to appear human, then in time, Desmond is determined to do so as well.
It had taken months to get to that point, months of ceaseless, tiring work just to be able to look human temporarily. Edward is better at it- he's had more practice- but Desmond's happy enough with what he has. Usually.
At this moment, as Edward, Haytham, Rebecca, and Altair all begin to talk over one another as the ask questions and try their best to explain everything that's happened, Desmond is left with nothing to do but watch.
Edward is the only one that seems to notice Desmond's growing unease. And as the conversation continues to grow louder and more chaotic, he's the one that crosses the room to rest a hand on Desmond's head. It should make him feel better, but it only drives home how different… how inhuman he has become. They are two of a kind, him and Edward, cut off from the others by the same transformation that saved them in the first place.
He listens as Edward explains what they've done over the past few months. Not that there's all that much to tell. Days of flying and hunting, nights spent struggling to stay human as long as possible. Some nights go better than others- there are times when they sit and talk for hours, until exhaustion forces them back into the shape of an eagle. Other nights, things are… difficult. Sometimes the change just won't come, no matter how hard they try.
Someone bangs on the wall next door, shouts something about how loud they're getting. Haytham makes an annoyed noise. "Neighbors," he says, half an explanation and half an apology.
"This really isn't the best place for this conversation anyway," Altair says. "We need to leave, make new plans, get everyone else caught up on what happened tonight. And…" he exchanges a look with Haytham and Rebecca. "There's probably a few things we should explain, too."
And that's the moment when the sick feeling starts to rise up like nausea in Desmond's stomach. Because it honestly has not occurred to him until that moment that things could have changed all that much for the rest of them. After all, they're still human. Still the same people they always have been.
But to be human is to change, and Desmond feels a stabbing sense of loss as he realizes that the family he left behind isn't the same family he's coming back to. He can only hope that there's still a place there for him.