A few days later, William came strolling in, hands in his pockets when he announced, "Due to an increase in Templar activity, the four of the Heads are coming to stay with us."

Everyone looked up, shocked.

"Two will be staying with Shaun and Desmond—"

"Why?" Desmond shouted, frowning.

"Because we know you don't use the second bed, and you've proven to us that you can fit two men into one of them."

"But that's ridiculous!" Desmond shouted. "Shaun and I won't ever get to be alone with each other!"

Immediately, his face turned a brilliant shade of red, and Shaun rested his head in his hand. Rebecca was grinning like the pervert she was, holding her hand out to Lucy, who begrudgingly slapped several bills into her hand.

"Told you so." She laughed.

Lucy huffed and crossed her arms, and William gave them a disapproving look. "The other will be staying with me. And the last with Erudito."

Desmond sent a panicked look at Shaun, who shook his head. "We'll discuss this later. William, don't think you've gotten off the hook yet," he said, sending a glare to their co-leader.

William shrugged and sat down as Desmond was plugged in. It took several attempts to get him to sync, and Shaun had a distinct feeling there was something else unspoken that was going on. That night, after a futile attempt at reasoning with William—"You can keep your dick in your pants long enough to live with the Heads."—Desmond was curled around him, clinging to him.

"What are we gonna do now?" he whispered.

Shaun was stroking his hair. "We'll be okay. We'll start going outside at night."

"And what if they don't let us?"

"Then we'll stay up late and claim to be working."

"What if they stay up with us?"

Shaun was disconcerted by Desmond's questions. That, in combination with the feeling from earlier, left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Then we'll hold off until we're alone again."

Desmond clung tighter to him. "But…"

"I know, Desmond. And I enjoy reading to you just as much as you enjoy being read to, but safety first."

The assassin nodded, but said nothing. They lay in silence for a while, Shaun's arms wrapped around him and him clinging tightly.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Desmond whispered.

Shaun rubbed his back slowly. There was no need to worry him more by agreeing. "I believe it. The only thing we can do is pray that everything comes out okay."

"At least we can go to the church Sunday, again, right? It's your turn to watch me on our day off."

Shaun nodded, hugging him tightly. "Yes, Desmond, we can."

Desmond said his prayers clinging to Shaun that night, and he fell asleep in the middle of a selection of Psalms. When the Heads of the Order arrived several days later, they were every bit as imposing as Shaun imagined them. They were silent in all they did, and their hooded robes left no bit of skin exposed. Shaun's skin crawled whenever one would come near, and he constantly felt as if he were being watched.

Desmond didn't fare well either. Wherever he went, one of them seemed to pop up, and so, they were forced to put off reading the Bible until further notice. They couldn't go to the church for fear of being caught. When the historian curled up with him at night, he could feel Desmond trembling against him. It wasn't until two weeks after their arrival things took a turn for the worse.

Desmond had desynced with a scream at a memory that really wasn't that bad, and Shaun was left holding him and whispering to him as he cried and clung and trembled in his arms. When he finally let go, Shaun left to go get him something to drink, and not more than a few minutes into letting the kettle boil, Rebecca came pounding in.

"Dude, you've got to see this."

She left, and, concerned, Shaun followed her out to be met with Desmond on his knees at the window, his lips moving rapidly and his hands pressed together. His head was bowed, and his eyes were shut, and Shaun felt his skin go cold: Desmond was praying—right in front of the Heads of the Order. William and the others looked slightly confused. Lucy and Rebecca, concerned more than anything. When Lucy touched his shoulder, Desmond cringed away from it, his fingers curling together tighter and his lips moving more rapidly. She looked perplexed at his reaction, and Shaun's heart was beating at a million miles an hour. One of the Heads moved forward, quietly, just like always, and knelt down beside him.

"Desmond, stop this foolishness."

Desmond cried out and fell on his rump, his hands still folded as he buried his face between his knees.

"Stop praying. There is no God to hear you."

He didn't deter him from his prayer. Shaun stepped forward stiffly and knelt beside him as the Head got up. He placed a hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"Desmond," he said softly, "Desmond, you need to stop."

He stayed like that, one hand on the man, until he stopped praying several minutes later, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Who taught you to pray?" One of the Heads asked.

Desmond didn't respond.

"Desmond! Answer us!"

He still gave them no response, even when the Head stepped forward and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. His instincts kicked in, and he lashed out to attack, but two others had all ready grabbed and restrained him. William was holding Lucy back, and Rebecca and Erudito were stunned. Shaun watched in horror as they tried to pry the information out of him.

"Who taught you?"

"How do you know I didn't just teach myself?" He spit, barking laughter when he saw the Head wipe its face.

"Because we know you weren't doing any kind of Templar activity before you joined us. We've made sure there would be no way for you to know unless one of your teammates was a spy, converting you to their beliefs so that you won't fight when they attack."

"Bullshit!" Desmond screeched, even though he was struck across the face. "Not all Christians are Templars!"

Shaun's mind was racing faster than a bullet as he thought about what to do. He knew they'd continue with Desmond until he spilled Shaun's name, and he knew that Desmond would never spill it. The only option after that would be to force Desmond into a coma to cooperate and get the memories from him. Worse yet, they would relive Desmond's memories to get their answer. Shaun didn't want that to happen, but the only way to stop it was to reveal himself. He was trembling. He glanced up at the ceiling, trying to calm his nerves. He said a quick prayer to God before he licked his lips.

"It was me."

Silence fell like a hammer over the group, and Desmond had his teeth sunk into the hand on the Head as the others tried to pry his jaw open. He saw four black holes where faces should be turn toward him, and he made the sign of the cross, his old Catholic habits kicking in.

"I taught him. If you need proof, there's a Bible hidden under the bricks below my extra set of shoes."

"Shaun!" Desmond spat. "Don't be ridiculous and—hey! No, you fucker, get back here!"

One of the heads had vanished from the room, returning moments later with the Bible from the priest. Shaun was standing there, visibly shaking as the Head flipped through it and noted the marked passages. The Head dropped the Bible onto the floor as the four one restrained Shaun. He didn't try to fight back. There was no way he could hope to win against one of them. The two holding back Desmond were struggling to keep him controlled, and the man was a snarling, biting, kicking, howling mess. Shaun looked at the Bible on the ground, realizing the bad feeling had been a message to get the fuck out. He saw the Head move in front of him, and he refused to look. A hand, covered in a white glove, forced him to look into the black hole, and he trembled.

"Let him go, you sick mother-fucking bastards!" Desmond screamed.

At a gesture, Shaun found himself bound tightly and sitting in the back of the vehicle the Heads of the Order had arrived in. Desmond was across from him, bound in chains and writhing on the floor as he struggled to get out. Shaun nudged him with his feet, giving him a sad look as the assassin fell quiet.

"Desmond, stop struggling."

"Why? So they can kill you?"

He sighed. "No, so they don't put you in a coma to get your memories."

Desmond stopped moving.

"Be compliant with them."

"No."

"For you own life."

"No. I want you."

"Desmond, if you force them to put you under, then all of my work, all of the stories we read, all the prayers we said, the church visit—all of it would have been for nothing."

"How can I just-just go along with them knowing you're going to die because of what you believe?"

Shaun offered a shaky smile. "By knowing that God will protect us."

"He's not going to protect you—"

"Faith, Desmond. That's what I've been trying to give you. And if it's my time to return to him, then at least I will have a better life than this one."

Desmond blinked, then blinked again.

"And while I don't regret a single moment of teaching you, Desmond, know that everything happens for a reason. If I get called back to Heaven, it was so my light could be passed to you, so that you could be the light for someone else. You must remember that I've been putting up quite a fight against depression as I worked here. This may be the relief I've been praying for."

"But I don't want you to die," Desmond whispered.

"But I'll see you again. And I'll be with my earthly father and my Heavenly father. And together we can sing worship songs in our underwear and socks, and we relax without fear. You'll get to meet Kate when we meet again."

Desmond was silent, and remained silent for the rest of the ride. When they got there, the Heads of the Order seemed surprised at Desmond's complacency, and Shaun found himself sitting in a dark cell. He easily lost how long he was in there, lost in his thoughts and his own self-pity until he recalled a passage from the Bible his mother had read to him long ago.

It was of Paul and Silas in prison, and how they had sung hymns and rejoiced in the Lord even though they were faced with death. They had been beaten and shackled. At least he didn't go through that. An earthquake that had destroyed the prison had freed them, and they stayed to save the life of prison guard. The next day, they had been released. They had been in good moods in prison, and Shaun realized it would do him no good to let himself wallow in misery and self-pity. With resolve, he spent the next long amount of time praying, his hands together and whispering the words aloud. He prayed for strength to make the most of his time in the cell, and for misery to stay away. He prayed for Desmond's safety and his, and he felt himself grow lighter the longer he talked.

It attracted the attention of the prisoners across from him—there were only four in the six dirty cells. Shaun continued praying, his words getting stronger the longer he talked, and eventually, he ended with an "Amen" and saw Desmond outside his cell.

"Are you doing okay?"

Shaun smiled with relief. "I'm doing fine."

"I listened to you pray. You've been praying for two hours."

"Well, it's not like I've much else to do in here."

"Why do you still have faith?"

"I haven't died yet, have I?"

Desmond frowned and sat, his legs poking through the bars of his cell. "I guess not."

"And there's no point in being depressed about it. I'm no longer paranoid about being caught, and I know you're alive and well."

Desmond looked caught off-guard from the statement.

"Do you want to hear a Bible story?"

The assassin nodded slowly. Shaun told him the story of Paul and Silas, and Desmond seemed to relax slightly as he heard the story.

"And that really happened?"

"Yes, Desmond, that really happened."

"You know, you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Why God doesn't just clean the world up right now."

Shaun nodded slowly, pursing his lips. He was silent for a moment. Then, "It was because when Adam and Eve bit from the apple, they handed the world over to Satan."

"Why doesn't God just take it back if he's so powerful?"

"Because he knew it would only happen again and again, so he left it to the devil and knew that those who truly wanted to join him in Heaven would follow his word and obey his laws."

Desmond was silent, looking at his lap. Shaun rose and walked over, crouching near the bars and placing a hand on Desmond's leg.

"Have faith, Desmond."

"I told the church you had been captured. They're spreading the news."

Shaun was floored. "R-really?"

Desmond nodded, covering Shaun's hand with his own. "You said there was power in prayer numbers, so I told them to spread the word."

"How did you get their address?"

"I had the bulletin from that Sunday in my hoodie pocket."

Shaun was silent, unable to believe that Desmond had actually done that.

"But if this doesn't work, I don't think that I'm believing in God ever again."

Slowly, as if through a fog, Shaun reached up and cupped Desmond's cheek with his free hand. He brought his head as close as he could and kissed his forehead gently.

"You've been in here for two weeks now," Desmond murmured, sounding crushed.

Shaun brushed his thumb over Desmond's cheek, smiling gently.

"And in all that time, I finally discovered how much of a blessing you are."

Desmond looked at him.

"I've been reflecting on everything, Desmond. I'm going to walk out of here for the stronger because of this."

"How?"

"Why don't you sing a worship song with me? I need something to lift my spirits so I don't give up and die of self-pity."

Desmond looked thoroughly confused. "Uh… okay?"

"I have a new one to teach you. It's called 'Lord, I Lift Your Name on High.' And, it has motions."

He nodded once, slowly, and smiled when Shaun did. They spent the next several hours learning the song and the simple hand movements to the chorus. The historian was pleased to note that even the other three prisoners were joining in. Desmond seemed to cheer up as they sang, and it lifted Shaun out of the dumps. He knew that he had done the right thing revealing himself.

That song led into "Here I am to Worship," then "Blessed be Your Name," then Desmond was discovered and dragged out, but at least the boy was smiling, and Shaun was feeling better about himself and his situation. The other prisoners were having fun, and so he continued singing and teaching those songs, and the three novices in charge tried to get them to shut up, but they wouldn't. So the Heads came down, fuming at all the racket coming from the prison, and they threatened, but Shaun wouldn't quiet. None of them would.

He began preaching to the prisoners, which, he was surprised to find, even though they were Templars, weren't Christian and had never been introduced to the word of God. Shaun found himself smiling despite his situation, noticing how the novices at the entrance leaned in when he told the prisoners a Bible story or nodded in time with songs as they sang.

He lost track of time as he got to know the prisoners: two more were carted in, and one left. When they found out he had been executed, he led the others in a prayer for him. It took a while, but two newcomers eventually joined in. The novices began to trust Shaun for his good behavior, letting him out to comfort another prisoner when one of them would get upset or incredibly nervous. They would come in and listen to him speak, and he decided he was thankful for his accent—it seemed to help. They snuck him music to teach the others and even, once or twice, a sweet from the kitchens.

They were in the middle of "Your Grace is Enough" when a large assassin came and stopped in front of him with a blindfold and bindings. Shaun took a deep breath and complied with the man, giving him a warm smile. As he was blindfolded, he heard one of the prisoners protest, and he let a small chuckle slip.

"Don't worry about me."

"But, the executioner!"

"Then pray for me, would you? Pray for my protection, and the salvation of the man who will end my life."

The executioner scoffed as he was led from the cell. "There isn't a God to help you now. I'm going to kill you, and that's that."

Shaun found himself remarkably confident that things would be okay. His smile disappeared the longer they walked, and with the blindfold, he became incredibly disoriented. He was glad when he was shoved on his knees and his head was roughly yanked back by his hair. He grunted.

"Not feeling so confident now, hm?"

Shaun sneered. "More confident than you'd ever know, you lousy tit."

He laughed once, bitterly, when the man backhanded him.

"Shaun?"

The voice was Desmond's, and Shaun smiled warmly at it.

"They're really going to kill you, you know."

"I'm surprised you're not fighting them."

"You told me not to, remember?"

"I didn't think you'd actually listen."

There was silence, then, "I don't want you to leave yet. We still have a lot in the Bible to finish."

"I know, Desmond, but I'm not dead yet. How many people are here?"

"Everyone in the base. The ten leaders, our team, a score or so of assassins… I don't want you to die. I've been praying hard for the past few months—"

"It's really been that long?"

"Yeah, and we finally got rid of Abstergo. We even managed to stop the solar flare thing Minerva talked about."

"Congratulations, Desmond. I had faith you could do it."

He could hear the sad happiness in his voice: "Thanks."

"Everything will be okay, Desmond."

"You stare death in the face, and you claim everything is all right?"

The voice came from in front of him, and he assumed it was one of the Heads of the Order.

"Only a fool would look a gift horse in the mouth," he snapped, egged on by the adrenaline in his veins. "I have struggled with depression and thoughts of suicide since I was kidnapped by Abstergo, amplified by Kate's death. Desmond has been my anchor, but if the Good Father is calling me back, I will go eagerly to him, for death provides relief. I have done all I can to give Desmond a strong faith. I can only hope that he will hold the torch to light another's path."

"You speak foolishness."

"No, I clearly think that I've been doing everything just said. Do you need me to repeat that for you?"

"There will be no honor in your death."

"I seek nothing from death except eternal slumber and my promised reward. You assassins are idiots to think everyone wants to die with 'honor' and 'courage.'"

"You are the idiot."

"Will you kill me? Or keep talking, instead? I thought this was an execution, not a family get-together."

The Head snarled. "You will never be a part of the family of assassins."

"Thankfully!" Shaun shouted, laughing derisively.

"Any last words, Templar?"

He felt the press of a gun nuzzle against the back of his head and smirked, despite the blood rushing through his veins and pounding in his ears. "Lord, don't hold this against them. They are fools, and they have not seen your power. Bless Desmond and make his path bright. I have seen your power and been blessed by you. Thank you, Lord. In your name I pray, amen."

"There is no God, you idiot!"

He heard a click, and then silence.

"The Hell? I just checked this gun."

Another click. And another. And another.

"Gimme a new gun!"

Shaun could hear the audience tittering quietly, mystified. His breathing was shaky, and his nerves on end. He shuddered.

"Here, this one works."

He felt another muzzle, and his heart skipped a beat. He was trembling—perhaps a miracle was happening.

"Bullshit," the executioner growled, and he heard another empty click. Then a series of empty clicks. He almost had a heart attack when he heard a gunshot ring out loudly in the room, and his breathing was coming in fast pants. In his mind, there were prayers running through at a million miles an hour, each one accompanied by another memory he had. He jumped again when he heard the executioner yell and the gun smash into the far wall. "Get me a blade! I'll kill the damn Templar spy the old-fashioned way!"

He held his head high, despite his nerves, waiting to feel the cool metal slice through his skin. The murmurs behind him were louder as the assassins began commenting on the freaky coincidence. He waited anxiously, his mind racing through a million prayers and words, all fragments of another day, another year. When he heard a cough behind him, he knew something was wrong. He heard the metal of the blade—a sword, he presumed—clatter against the ground, he turned to look behind him despite the blind fold. Commotion overtook the audience as the assassins panicked.

"He's had a heart attack!"

"The prisoner is cursed!"

"Quickly! Get the executioner out of here!"

"He's dead! Shit! Maurice is dead!"

Shaun's heart was pounding wildly as he listened to the commotion. Finally, silence fell over the room again as he heard the executioner be carted off. Murmurs were running rampant through the crowd as Shaun looked around, even though he couldn't see.

"Get him back to his cell."

Still, he felt no one touch him.

"You have your orders! Get him back in his cell!"

He felt a trembling hand undo the blindfold, and he blinked when it came off. Desmond was crouching in front of him, smiling. He smiled in return, letting out a nervous laugh. Without a warning, Desmond pulled him into a crushing hug, scooping him up and spinning around. Shaun laughed.

"He did! He really watched over you!"

"Utter farce," one of the Heads growled. "A string of unlucky circumstances. Our executioner was sixty-two, anyway."

Shaun was pleased to hear the nervousness in its voice as he pressed his face against Desmond's neck.

"Glory be to God Almighty," he whispered.

Desmond ended up carrying him back down to his cell, where all the prisoners were surprised to see him.

"No way!"

"You're back!"

"Incredible!"

"Awesome!"

He was smiling as he felt the binds come off. Desmond grinned at him from the other side of the bars. Shaun led them in a powerful and joyful set of songs, and they celebrated for quite a while. Even when Desmond was dragged out, he was smiling and laughing, and Shaun had never felt higher on life then right then. He didn't know how long it was before he saw Desmond appear at the bars, grinning like a fool.

"Guess what?"

He walked over from his spot on the far wall, half-asleep. "Huh?"

"We're going home."

He rubbed his face in hopes of waking completely.

"What?"

"We're going home. You're being placed under house arrest back at home in London, where they have all sorts of assassins there to watch you."

Shaun shook his head, still sleepy. "Home?"

"To your mom and brother! You're going home!"

He blinked, then blinked again. Then, it registered, and his eyes grew wide. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am!"

"You're not joshing with me?"

"Why the Hell would I do that?"

Shaun was stunned. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, and he fell to his knees, gripping the iron bars tightly.

"Thank God in the highest. Seventeen years, Desmond. It's been seventeen years, and I'm finally going home." He pressed his lips to his knuckle.

"Thank the Lord Almighty. I'm going home—I'm going home!"

One of the assassin novices came over and unlocked the door. There were immediately two more assassins, one on either side of him, and Desmond squeezed in between them, grabbing his hand. He was crying tears of joy as he thought about his family back in London. Seventeen years without being able to communicate with them, and he finally would get to see them.

His heart was pounding as he held his plane ticket, crumpled between his and Desmond's locked fingers. His blood was pulsing as he waited outside the gate with his two assassin escorts. He pulled out the phone he had before his arrest and dialed his home phone, biting his lip the longer it rang.

He was about ready to give up when it hit the seventh ring.

"Hello?" he heard an old, tired voice say. "Hastings' residence. This is Marjan speaking."

"H-hello," he felt Desmond squeeze his hand tightly, "Mum?"

"Danny? Is that you?"

"No, mum, it's me. It's—" his voice cracked. "It's Shaun."

There was silence. "Shaun?"

He could feel his heart breaking. Surely his mother hadn't forgotten.

"My Shaun died a long—"

"No, mum, it's me. I swear. I'm alive. I'm free now."

There was silence, and Shaun almost felt like crying.

"You-You're alive? Is that really you, Shaun?"

"Yes, mum, it's really me."

There was more silence.

"Mum?"

"My God, Shaun, it's really you, isn't it?"

"Yes, mum, it is."

There was a shaky breath on the other end. Then, "I—My Lord, you're coming home. Shaun, after all these years—oh, Shaun, I've been praying for your safe return every day! I've never stopped, and finally—finally!—Oh! The Good Lord's heard my prayers! I'll have to tell the father! And the neighbors! And the community! Oh, Shaun, my baby boy. I can't believe you're finally coming home! Finally! Oh, my baby! Where are you? What happened? Are you okay? Who kidnapped you? Are you healthy?"

Shaun laughed, ignoring the stares he was getting as he cried tears of joy. "I'll tell you when I get there. I'm at an international airport in Italy. I should be boarding right now."

"My God! Thank the Heavens, mercy alive! Call me as soon as you land! Oh, my baby, you're coming home!"

"I love you, mum."

"I love you, too! To think you're coming home! I'll have the whole of London know you're found by the time you land!"

"And mum, I'm bringing a friend."

"Goodness Lordie alive! I'll have a meal prepared by the time you get home! Oh, you're coming home! My baby!"

Shaun smiled. "I'll see you soon, mum."

"Of course, baby. Of course. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She hung up, and Shaun flashed their tickets to the woman at the boarding area. Desmond wrapped him in a tight hug as they laughed their way to the plane. After they were seated, Desmond leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

Things were finally looking up.

Why is the Pit being such an ass? D: Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. This has been quite the prompt for me. page 11 in part 2.