The Beginning of Silence

Chapter 03

Did Vidic's eyes look more pitted and hollow since last month? Had the frown lines around his mouth grown deeper and more cruel since Desmond had seen them last? Or was it simply time and forgetfulness playing a trick on him? Desmond did no think his memory of the doctor had softened, so he attributed the subtle change to this: the doctor had aged. He'd grown noticeably older over the span of a single month; his snowy goatee was sparse.

Sitting wetly on pristine leather seats, Desmond felt every inch a prisoner. The fact that Suit #1 --named Thompson, apparently-- had the barrel of his gun shoved uncomfortably in Desmond's side did not detract from the illusion. Still, at least he was out of the rain. Be grateful for small favors, as his mother used to say, when he lived under her thumb.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've contacted you again," Vidic said.

Desmond shrugged. He had relaxed somewhat once they got in the car. In these close quarters, what with the gun so close, there wasn't much he could do in way of escape. Thompson blocked the only door, and Desmond didn't fancy fighting his way past a gun. Resignation, pure and unadulterated, was the source of his stoicism. "It crossed my mind."

Vidic smirked. "As it should have, Mr. Miles." He paused, lacing his fingers beneath his jaw. His tone lost whatever joking quality, however slight, it had contained. "I've come to ask for your help, Desmond."

Desmond snorted. "Ask? More like insist."

Vidic waved a hand dismissively. "Forever arguing the semantics. The fact is that Abstergo needs you, Mr. Miles, and I am here to make sure you deliver what we need."

That took Desmond by surprise. Hadn't they gotten what they wanted from him? They had the coordinates of the Piece (or was it 'pieces?') of Eden. "I don't understand. You've already seen Altaïr's memories about your… objective." His lips curled in distaste, thinking about the artifacts scattered across the earth and what Abstergo could do with them. Suddenly, what might have been a kernel of understanding dawned. A thought rose to Desmond's mind, insistent and mind boggling. "Don't tell me you—?"

Vidic silenced him by confirming Desmond's new suspicion. "The artifacts were gone by the time our teams got there."

"So the Assassins beat you to the punch," Desmond laughed, relieved. He had faith in Lucy and her peers. Better them than Abstergo.

Vidic glared at him. "I'm afraid not. Their resting places, though very well hidden by Altaïr, had been untouched for centuries."

"For centuries?" Why didn't Desmond like the sound of that, or the implications in the mad doctor's tone?

"Yes. Someone moved them, but not long after they were hidden—relatively speaking, that is. We're guessing thirty years, at most."

"Lemme guess," said Desmond. "You think Altaïr was the one to move them, and you wanna hook me back up to the Animus to find out exactly where. I mean, it's not like you went thirty years after him first picking up the Piece, so there's no way you could have known he'd move them later, right?"

Vidic's eyes glittered in triumph. "I thought you'd say that… but no. Someone else did it; someone close enough to Altaïr to know how his mind worked. Someone who would be able to circumvent the traps your ancestor left for those seeking the Piece. We're looking for that person."

Desmond frowned. "So what are you gonna have me do?"

"Relive Altaïr's life from the earliest memory possible; one from his boyhood, perhaps. We'll be on the look out for someone who grew up with him, who watched him develop the mind he possessed as an adult. He was about twenty-five or so when you first 'met' him, so we have quite a span to observe. It's best if we start now. We have two months."

Something about that didn't make sense. "Two months?" Desmond asked incredulously. "But this should be a cinch, right? I shouldn't need more than a few weeks, since I'm already synched with him."

Vidic laughed a hollow laugh. "Wrong."

"What?" Desmond's heart thumped loudly in his chest. He was so distracted he had all but forgotten about the gun jammed into his side.

"Essentially," Vidic explained, "the boy Altaïr and the man Altaïr are two different people."

"I don't understand."

"You shouldn't, but answer me this and you might begin to comprehend: do you think the same way you did as a child now that you are an adult?"

Desmond caught hold of an inkling of understanding. "No."

"And did you possess the same skills?"

The trickle turned into a stream. "No."

"As a child, were you completely sure of your morals or religious values? Had you fully developed your motor coordination and mental capabilities?"

The stream was now a flood. "No, no, and no."

"I can tell by the look on your face you understand," said Vidic. "But let me clarify: you synched with Altaïr when he was a full grown man, mature both in mind and body, and when you were a full grown man, likewise mature. The stability of both parties allowed a smooth, natural synchronization to occur. Had he still been in the juvenile development process, you would have had a harder time with synchronization. Added to that the fact your ancestor was your age when you became acquainted, and you have a recipe for a very innate merger indeed."

"I get that," said Desmond. It made sense, what Vidic said about the whole 'developed mind' crap. Synching up with an evolving child would be tough work for Desmond indeed, the fact hat he knew the development's final destination aside. "But there's another thing I don't get half as well."

Vidic looked annoyed. "Which is?"

Desmond gave him the most level gaze he could muster. It felt like Altaïr's death stare. "What will finding out who the hider of the Pieces do? We still won't know where they left them without accessing their memory, and you need them to do that."

Vidic gave Desmond a blank look, which slowly expanded into a smirk, then a smile, then a grin. His wolf-like face split into an expression so maniacally gleeful Desmond felt himself break out into another cold sweat. And as if that weren't bad enough, the doctor began to laugh. It was a soft sound, but chilled Desmond to the core and seemed to reverberate around the car's tiny interior.

"That, my young friend," said the doctor, still laughing, "are what the modifications I've made to the Animus are for."

AUTHOR'S NOTE AND/OR APOLOGY

Well, so with the help of Key 46812, I have seen the ending of Assassin's Creed for myself.

To tell you the truth, it wasn't what I had in mind.

But, no matter! I shall work with what I have been given! Let me just outline my view of the game's ending, and the events thereafter:

At the end of the game, Altaïr stands over the Piece of Eden and is unable to bring himself to destroy it. I think that after the memory scene is over, he realizes that yes, he can't destroy, it, but he can still keep other people from using it. So he breaks it into parts and hides the thing across the globe (how else did you expect it to wind up on continents that no longer exist?). After Desmond wakes up, I believe Lucy breaks Desmond out of the Abstergo lab (though that is not stated explicitly in the game), and he goes into some degree of hiding, avoiding both modern Assassin and modern Templar.

The above conjecture is what my story hangs upon. If it is are not really what happened, then consider my story AU and don't complain (please, for the sake of my sanity, don't bug me about it! But, since you likely don't care much about my mental health, leave it be for the sake of my story, which is probably of much greater importance to you). At least, don't complain until Assassin's Creed 2 is released and we all find out I've totally botched the storyline (finger crossed for that!).

And… that's all I have to say about that, in the words of a wise, wise man named Forest Gump. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!