Chapter 4! Interest is picking up and I'm getting excited!

"I believe it's time for your blood test, Mein Sohn."

THWAP

"Doc, can this wait for a few seconds?"

SMACK

"Ugh!"

Doctor Swartz studied in concern as Damon dodged the violent fist that would have met his chest, movements rapid and almost mechanical. Its owner wasted no time aiming for another try, Damon grabbing his new trainer's arm with pristine grace, and slamming the entire body down to the mats. The awful thump that echoed through the gymnasium had the medical expert grimacing with anxiety and patrons turning their heads in concern. Dear lord these two were going to tear down the building…

Sharp emeralds faded down towards Daniel, who was now lying angrily beneath the younger. A grin was his prize for his smarting over this latest defeat and soured his mood even further. But Daniel wasn't one to admit defeat or surrender so soon. His eyes spotted an opportunity. Damon didn't see the flash of skin grappling the side of the sneaker until the air around him shifted around him and the side of his body was kissing the unforgiving mat. A spiteful smirk illuminated the blonde's face as he pinned his squirming target to the same mat his body had recently met, one hand placed expertly on his neck and the other pressed painfully into his spine.

"Ugh okay I see the lesson in this. Now get the HELL off!" But Daniel ignored the whining plea and maneuvered himself so his posterior is settled on the others back.

"Fucking hell Cross!" The new pressure on his spine had Damon kicking and wiggling to inch out from Cross' weight, finding the joke a bit too embarrassing given the attention both had mustered from the others in the room. Daniel merely moved with Damon's struggles, the smirk holding far too much enjoyment. Damon wondered if his partner was depriving some sadistic joy from this.

"Say uncle first."

"Uncle my ass! Get off me!" Daniel's wickedly devious grin answered the demand, rising then harshly falling back onto the body. Damon shot an almost deadly glare towards the heavier male, grappling hand full of cloth to drag his counterpart down with him. In the end Damon managed to pivot his hips, putting the heels of his feet into Daniel's hips and fling his trainer off him concluding the unorthodox sparring session. Swartz sighed in annoyance, coming between the two bickering men and taking Damon's shirt by the collar.

"Come along now." Swartz tugged his ward through the hall leaving Daniel in the gym. Damon snarled and angrily called back to Daniel with a dramatic "This isn't over!" Swartz didn't find it very amusing with his audible groan. Damon merely snickered and trudged along as they traversed to the doctor's office. The sight was quite a change of pace for other workers strolling through the hall. The doctor was not a tall man. He wasn't even stout. He was a 5'5 fifty-five year old with a lankly build and Einstein like hair, making him impossible to appear intimidating.

He was respected, but not feared in any form.

And this lack of physical advance was only defined when next to the six foot recruit. Damon never pointed it out; sometimes it seemed he didn't even notice the size difference, seeking the elder's company very often. He never really paid attention to their size or age difference, finding genuine interest in the Doctor that not even the man that hired him could display. Swartz's irritation melts away the closer they get to his work space, loosening his grip on the young man's collar as well with each step taken. The boy was near impossible to stay mad at.

"Now set your ass right there while I get my things." Damon obeyed, rolling up his sleeve to ready himself for the needle that was sure to pierce his skin like last time. Within his few weeks in the building, Damon had memorized Swartz office top to bottom; from the pleasant photo of the ocean, to the ransacked desk. Most people felt anxiety in an office littered with acute, expensive equipment. Not Damon. Perhaps it was because he knew the hands that worked them meant no harm.

Swartz reappeared with a simple case housing a stethoscope, needles and a few other items Damon had yet to learn the names of. The case is set next to his thighs as the Doctor begins to prepare the syringe, humming as he does so. He then wipes at the inside of his patient's elbow, giving the needle a flick. He sends a smile Damon's way before taking the man's arm with the fatherly delicacy he's shown since day one.

"You are getting rather good at this." He comments, feeling the need to delay the small action for a millisecond. Damon smirks and faintly feels the fine tip of the needle prod through his skin, watching the crimson liquid fill the thin container. It was strange to see such a thing as your blood taken away so easily, to think all it takes is something sharp enough to pierce the surface your skin.

"Well after about five times I'm kinda numb to it." But not the feelings that come after his shots and tests; the soft tingle left behind insisted to itch at his arm until he gave in and wiped ointment on it. Or at worst actually scratch at it and earned a lecture about acquiring an infection because bacteria resided underneath his nails. Swartz sends him an encouraging wink, pulling the needle out carefully. Damon helped himself to the band aids.

"Now, to the fun part." Swartz stated jokingly as he expertly twirled the thin vile of blood through his fingers. "Anything you need examined? Pains, dizziness?" The brunette shook his head and slid off the soft confines of the medical bed. Swartz quickly placed the container of blood into a slot of a box like machine, pressing a few buttons that made it purr into doing its job. This always made him anxious, dreading the result that would show the small red light indicating failure in one of the many changes in Damon's body. It was Russian roulette until either the white or red light came up, and indicated if Damon was safe…or not so safe.

He could hear the young man shuffle about for the unexplained news, fiddling with one of the many trinkets scattered around Swartz office. The elder shook his head. So childlike without even attempting. The machine that harbors the Doctor's anxiety gives its sharp beep, demanding attention.

Donavan couldn't stop the shuddering breath of relief that racked his lungs. White. The light was the intense, creamy white it had been for every test. This was a good sign, but until Damon reached his recovery deadline it would be a tightrope walk with his blood and organs.

"As always, healthy as a horse, Mein Sohn." Damon chuckled as he leaned against the disaster of a desk behind him. It's a tranquil moment that hits Swartz right in the heart; the fact Damon is able to appear so casual in his presence in his few weeks since resurrection.

"Shall we test your reflexes, or is what I saw in the gym enough?" Damon grinned proudly, his equality in skill with his older companion making their training that much more interesting and unpredictable. The doctor rolled his eyes, using as much strength as he could muster to chuck a paper weight across the room right towards his patient's nose.

He caught it without a glance, his expression unchanged from the smirk that had snuck onto his face. He clicked his tongue tinged with the defiance he oh so often felt. Why? He wasn't quite sure. "Gotta be faster than that Doc."

With that, he left the little medical room, tossing a lazy smile the seniors' way along with the paper weight as he shut the door.

Said Doctor set his hands on hips, shaking his head in an amused sort of confusion. "Aye…"

OoO

"Rikkin messaged me." Daniel announced, interrupting Damon's massive bite of pasta.

"Hmm?"

The older Templar wasn't eating but simply lounging with his 'new' friend against one of the many windows across the empty halls. Their interactions were still somewhat awkward and distant, conversation rare. But they grew used to each other's presence in an almost sluggish unwilling travel upstairs. They were quite far from the image of two good friends the entire building had perceived, but they were being civil. As long as they were in the solitary presence of only each other.

It appeared Damon was anxious around large crowds. And Daniel felt no desire to be ogled by simpletons that couldn't fathom him getting along with someone who wasn't a sadistic bastard like himself.

The emerald orbs that were Damon's iris's came to him in curiosity, lunch forgotten by the mention of their all superior. Strangely, they once again seemed to be darker than their very first eye lock. They were still intensely bright, still strong enough to be seen with ease across a room. But appeared darker. He patiently waited for a continuation of his acquaintances statement, the silence of the usually puttering halls making the pause seem deathly hollow.

"And?" He probed as he began to pick at the noodles in his Styrofoam bowl. Daniel rolled his tongue in consideration, the pen between his fingers being flipped absent mindedly. He forgot he was supposed to be working. How to voice the rather traumatic news was keeping Daniels voice box out of use.

"He wants you to go on our next purge." The tension that had been almost non-existent burst into a heavy cloud of hesitance and uncertainty. "…He thinks you're ready." Daniel however, heavily objected to his boss' statement, explaining that every deadline made for the resurrected ex-assassin wasn't even close; that the possibility of triggering memories was still too great. Rikkin had made a rather smug comment of Daniel caring for his fading enemy. It was offensive for reasons Daniel didn't care to remember. Here he was walking around eggshells to earn the taller man's loyalty and then there's his freaking crazy boss thinking they can just throw him into a fight against his former allies!

A MONTH INTO THE FUCKING PROJECT!

Last they tried to control anything too soon, Vidic ended up dead, and Daniel came close to sharing the same fate.

Daniel had to painfully grind his teeth as not to curse all that was around him. He had been the one warned not to toy with and tarnish all the work Swartz had put into the green eyed corpse, but it turned out he was not going to be the one to ruin this after all.

Rikkin was reckless, but Daniel had no say and he knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Huh?" It was a common reaction from Damon by now; the first few of small things Daniel had picked up on. Along with the tans' tendency to let his once damaged hand twitch and flex more than the other. A tick that meant there was a something on his mind; he usually voiced it after some coaxing of sort.

"Rikkin thinks you're ready for an area purge. Apparently some assassins have been snooping around near here." The explanation came in a steady stream, slurred by Daniel's Russian twang and his own laziness of pronunciation.

Damon blinked in surprise as the words registered in his brain. He felt worry increase as none other than his father figure doctor came to mind; surely Donovan didn't know about this. He would tear down his office in a fit of anxiety and distress at the thought of his success being shoved into open fire nowhere near the safety of deadlines.

"Swartz isn't going to like that." Obviously.

"I know." Of course you do.

"How-"

"He already made his statement…"

"And?"

"And Rikkin has agreed to keep you out of immediate danger." Though Swartz was in no way frightening physically, you couldn't help but become confused when he began yelling in German and going red in the face. There was fear of him dying due to cardiac arrest though… Threats of leaving were his only weapon in taming the almost uncontrollable leader of the Templars, knowing he was one of the best scientists they had and without him there was a possibility of downfall.

If he knew any better, the boss would notice the connection between the victim of their project and its upholder. But he was dense and wouldn't notice or care of such a thing.

Damon continued to purse his lips, lunch totally forgotten as the realization of possibly being part of such things came to terms. Even he himself knew he wasn't ready for missions, or purges or anything of that category. He could feel how strong he had become and his mind was a constant stream of easily processed information; but yet there was that comprehension that has prevented many other things still lingering in said advanced mind.

"So where does that leave me?" He asked as Daniel rose and stretched from his long term spot against the window. The sigh that leaves the ex-druggie is drawn out, touched with the disapproval obvious in his tone. Daniel was shockingly readable when he carefully lowered the wall of anger and intimidation from around him, showing something darker but less defensive. Either one could frightening, Daniel nothing but a sold form of violence and harsh words that pushed everyone around him into shadows. Desmond was an open book; unintentional wide eyed interest and a smile that made nearly every female specimen in the building blush like school girls. He voiced his concerns in a steady, tentative voice. He was almost the spitting image of rationality. While Daniel was none of that.

They were indeed polar opposites.

But that grin-the wicked, devious quirk of the blonde's lips arrives, signaling to Damon that he was in the hands of Cross once again. His arms-under closer inspection were wryly, not at all massive as you'd think a master Templars' would-drop to his sides after his cat-like stretch.

"You'll be joining me." The tilt of the tan's head shows his curiosity towards the vagueness of the statement. In the very pit of his stomach, there was also a shrivel of dread.

"…"

OoO

"Should I trust you behind a wheel?" Damon mutters in concern of his own life as Daniel nonchalantly cuts through traffic. The several horns that poured after had the horrified passenger shrinking in to his seat. He couldn't help but pull the thin snow hat given to him by Swartz as they taken another threatening swerve across the street.

Thank god they weren't somewhere like New York; they'd be dead by now.

"Relax I'm not gonna crash. The Doc would have an aneurism if I did."

"I'm going to have one!" Daniel didn't even glance at the slouching body as he jerked the bulky black van through a yellow light. Damon hissed in anxiety as a semi barely skimmed the vehicle. Cross's only response was to throw his middle finger through the window. His eyes were focused but dark as he continued swerving through traffic like the vehicles around him were stopped. Damon compared the cold stare to one of a demon's. Why did he think that?

"Jesus! And this is safer than on ground action?!" He desperately gripped at his acquaintances heavy leather jacket as they just barely missed a biker. "Fuck I'm going to die thanks to your grand theft auto education!" The evil grin that spread across the latter's face was more frightening than the looming traffic cones ahead, Daniel clonking through them without a bat of an eyelash, barely missing pedestrians as well. While Damon released his very first scream since his awakening, trying to find comfort in his one strap seatbelt. Where the hell were the authorities?

"When this is over I'm pulling a restraining order against you!"

"Nah you'd miss me." The driver shot back as he bombarded across the streets towards their destination. Damon merely covered his eyes in hopes of dying quickly; his only last wish was Daniel would be thrown through the window in the process. Then as abruptly as all the fear and anxiety with the ride came, the van screeched to a stop in front of a low maintained warehouse. Damon breathed a sigh of relief and finally straightened from his attempt at melting into the seats. He was shaking quite awfully, legs trembling when he exits the vehicle.

"You're insane! I should've stayed back…" He muttered miserably while he tried to stay on his own two feet. He felt sick to his stomach from the sudden turns and his brain was throbbing miserably against his skull form the adrenaline. He was tried now, deciding to slide down a brick wall and sit with his head between his knees. At the moment he was a child, wanting to go back home to the safe confines of Swartz office or his room. Daniel was a mad man with a winner's face and dear god Damon fell for it hard. Now he was god knows where doing god knows what for some damn purge and he was definitely not ready for so much excitement!

Maybe he was overreacting. He had done this stuff for years before without missing a beat. But then why was everything so loud? Why was his entire body quivering in terror? He was going to be honest, he was scared.

He was scared of what was around him because all he really knew was the inside of Abstergo. Rikkin had said he had forgotten everything of his past, apparently that included his awareness of what surrounded him. He didn't know what to do and Daniel wasn't anyhelpanddeargodheneededswartzhewaspanicking!

That's where Daniel found him; shaking with his now sweaty head between his trembling knees and body stiff as stiff could be. "The hell's wrong with you?" The mess of man flinched of the suddenness of his voice, recoiling deeper into himself. "Colt." It's a warning, an opportunity to pull it together and be ready to leave. But the young Templar ignores it as breathing becomes difficult, hands scrabbling around light jeans. Daniel studies the scene at a loss. Swartz never mentioned this as a side effect…

"Damon. What is going on?" When Damon looks up his, pupils are nothing more than the size of a pin head, his skin looks ashen and the expression on his face says he might vomit any second. He opens his mouth but all he accomplishes is gawking at Daniel like a fish without water. "You've gotta speak, dumb ass." But the helpless subject doesn't respond to the insult, falling to his side still curled in a ball. His entire body violently shaking as he turned unresponsive. His breathing was harder and out of control as his heart raced threatening to erupt from its bony cage. The poor bastard was hyperventilating!

Okay, now Daniel should probably be worried. Damon wasn't cooperating, he was barely moving-and the purge wasn't going to be attempted for a few more minutes. So the goatee bearing accomplice did something he'd e never see himself doing.

"Alpha this is transport. Send another escape vehicle…my colleague is having complications." Just in time too, as Damon released something of a grunt and screech.

OoO

"I knew it had been a terrible idea! Aye I the poor boy couldn't process all that excitement in one sitting! His brain activity is at an all-time high and his stress level was off the charts! That damn Rikkin! Gott möge mich zurück von meiner Wut!"

Daniel stood aside as Swartz paced and shouted in German, running his hands through his hair. Damon sat half asleep behind them both, having needed a sedative to calm down long enough for his heart rate to level out. They were currently waiting for Rikkin to contact them via video chat like his declaration of Damon's strength.

"Doc, what exactly happened? Was it a relapse?" Daniel ground out as he prevented Damon from vaulting forward to the ground. The doctor stopped his angry muttering to fall into a contemplative stance.

"I do not wish to say this, but I believe our dear Colt had a panic attack." Daniel widened his gaze when the words registered his vocal chords.

"A panic attack…"

"You see, I fear his constant time in this facility made him adapt only here. And with the mixture of your awful driving-"

This earned the eldest a sneer. "-and the new atmosphere, I believe Damon experienced sensory overload which morphed into a panic attack." Damon raised his head for a millisecond before his chin dropped back to his collar bone. Crap.

"This is not permanent. Just visits outside and around the area will help." Swartz finished the sentence by carefully running a worked hand across the service of Demons' speckled hair. This earned him an answering nudge. The grey haired mans' face did not remain tender forever, creases darkening in the anger that had been forgotten at the mention of his experiments condition. "But I will indeed be speaking to Mr. Rikkin of his rushed request. Passenger or leader, Damon had no knowledge of what to do. The few self-defense lessons he had is not enough."

Daniel was not quite sure how to respond. He was tempted to darkly quip of Swartz own mistake of not seeing the outcome, but that would only earn him a shouting German.

"So," He prompts, hand rising to smack Damon's lulling head. "Does this delay anything?" Swartz shook his head.

"No…it only proves caution is a larger priority than previously established."

They both watch Damon slowly let his lids shield his harsh green eyes, a groan coming from his mouth.

Yes, caution.

Something they had neglected far too soon.

Uh oh, looks like blames in every direction right now. Now this may seem unnecessary, but it's to build Daniels and Damon/Desmond's relationship a bit higher before shit goes down…cuz a lot will in the future. Plus I'm sure you saw difficulties coming with all the progress.