Ginger Katt: There aren't many people for him... Except Shaun :D You know they love each other OvO Anyway, thanks a lot for reviewing so much!
Draconlaris: Thanks! Oh, I know how it feels to have a story open in a tab on an iPhone.. it used to take me weeks just to read a story D:
Dimension3500: Thank you :) I don't think I'm going to be adding any Revelations, since this story is now so far off Brotherhood's storyline, I don't think Revelations is going to exist :3 Also, I lied. No long chapters for you.
xXfigxXD: Trololol. Don't look at me, Lucy came up with it! Thanks a lot ^_^

Also, big, huge, chocolate-covered thank yous to:
-Draconlaris, for adding this story to their alert
-and Dimension3500, for adding myself to their favourite authors, and this story to their alert

To anyone who cares: I have a new story up. It's a ShaunDes fic, and I'm planning on making it extremely fluffy and dark at the same time. Go check it out, it's on my page 8D

The steady burst of snow is burning my hands
I'm frozen to the bones
I am a million miles from home
I'm walking away
-Woodkid's Iron

"Well, that was successful," Desmond commented drily after ten minutes of driving.

"Just..." Lucy took a shaky breath. "Just shut the fuck up."

"You aren't honestly blaming me, are you?" As she opened her mouth to protest, he continued. "Don't. I can tell you think it's my fault."

Lucy glanced sideways at him, looking apologetic. "I know. I'm sorry, it's just..." She paused and looked back at the black road. "I don't want René mad at me."

"Oh, because he's huge and rich and powerful and could have you assassinated in-"

"No," Lucy interrupted impatiently. "Because he was my friend, and friends shouldn't get mad at each other."

"Then why are we always fighting?" Desmond asked, realizing something. "We're friends, right?"

She sighed. "Yes, we are; I don't know why we fight. I just feel so stressed and worn out lately. So much has happened in the past week... It's wearing me down."

"I know." Desmond smiled reassuringly and laid a gentle hand on Lucy's shoulder. "I'm here for you, okay?"

His head exploded in rage. The lights had always been there, in the back of his mind, but the combination of his kindness and physical contact sent them into a frenzy. They all screamed at him at once, until their words melded together to create one long, unbroken angry cry.

"Agh!" Desmond jerked his hand back, clutching his head with one hand. His heart pounded erratically, and pain blurred his vision.

"FUCKING lying BITCH, she is not your FRIEND, she is in your WAY," they all screamed at once, their voices sounding harsh and layered.

"In the way of what?" Desmond howled back at them out loud, feeling fed up. The outside world was a blur.

"You don't get it! I'm not just going to kill someone because you tell me to, especially not a friend!"

"She LIES, we CAN SEE IT in her EYES." Their voices grew even louder, the words drilling forcibly into his brain.

"The only liars here are you," Desmond growled. "Now get the fuck out of my head!"

"YOU WANT US OUT? KILL. HER." Every word was howled harshly; Desmond felt like it was so loud the excess sound was coming out his ears and eyes.

In answer, he screamed back at them, a wordless cry full of anguish and anger, then cried, "Get - out - of - my - head!"

The lights' rage overflowed and Desmond's brain was lit by a white-hot anger. The pain was more than he could ever imagine, so much pain..

As they burn in the fire

He passed out.

Lucy stared in shock. "Desmond! Desmond!" she cried, as he screamed bloody murder, clutching his head. Deciding she couldn't drive and deal with this at the same time, she pulled the truck to the side of the road, turning off its engine.

"Get - out - of - my - head!" Desmond howled, then seconds later his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the side, unconscious.

"Shit," Lucy muttered, then shook his shoulder gently. "Desmond?"

His eyes snapped open. They were gold.

When Desmond opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming. The entire cab of the truck was covered in negative light; blacks appeared white and whites appeared black. Leaning over him was a glowing red figure.

Templar! was his confused brain's first thought. He coiled away, pressing himself as far away from the red as possible. "Stay away from me," he growled, unsheathing his blade and holding it up threateningly.

The figure was moving her mouth, but his ears were still ringing and he couldn't hear a word she was saying. She moved her hands frantically, then reached toward him.

"Stay away!" Desmond hissed threateningly, raising his blade.

The red figure withdrew her hand and moved her mouth again. His hearing was starting to return. It sounded like she was saying "Tree pull prison", but it was muffled, as if a cloth was wrapped around his ears.

All at once, his hearing snapped back into life. "Eagle Vision!" the figure was yelling. "Desmond, turn it off!"

He had been unconsciously holding his sight to Eagle Vision, whereas it normally took an effort to keep it activated. Desmond switched back to normal vision. The cab turned back to its regular colours, and the figure in front of him stopped glowing red.

It was Lucy, a panicked looked on her face. Well, of course it had been Lucy. Desmond cursed himself for being such an idiot.

"I was so close.." he whispered. "If you'd come any closer..." He looked down at the blade on his wrist, hating it.

"Get this fucking thing off of me!" He shook his arm madly, trying to jar the buckles loose.

"Stop, stop!" Lucy cried desperately. "It's still unsheathed; you could hurt yourself."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, the tip of the blade sunk into the fleshy part on Desmond's ring finger. It only entered half a centimetre deep, but it hurt like hell. "Motherfucker!" he shouted, sheathing the metal demon.

"Ah, shit." Lucy leaned over him gently and opened the glove compartment, pulling out the first aid kit. "We're going to run out of bandages at this rate." It didn't sound like a joke.

She set the first aid kid in her lap and rummaged through it, pulling out a couple Band-Aids and several cotton swabs.

"Give me your hand."

Desmond was hesitant, remembering the last time he'd given her an injured hand. But he held it out for Lucy to take. She took it gently and pressed cotton swabs on them for a few minutes until the bleeding stopped.

Lucy removed the swabs and turned to open the Band-Aids on the dashboard. It wasn't too bad; the bleeding had stopped and he could see the cut wasn't deep.

Lucy turned back and wrapped one Band-Aid around his finger, then the other on the back. It looked like Desmond was wearing some sort of thick, pale beige wedding band.

"Thanks," he gasped. His head throbbed again as Lucy smoothed the bandage down on his finger. Desmond jerked his hand away a little to quickly to avoid the pain, but Lucy looked at him slightly hurt.

The blonde started the ignition, focusing her eyes intently on the road. Desmond had noticed that they'd stopped, but it hadn't exactly been high on his priority list. He gently reached over and took the First Aid kit from Lucy's lap, closed it, and put it back in the glove compartment.

The GPS said there was still seven and a half hours to go.

There was absolutely nothing to do. All Desmond could do to entertain himself was to stare out the window and watch the streetlights pass by, illuminating the truck differently every second. Soon the pattern became repetitive and annoying.

He found himself looking at the clock on the dashboard every five minutes exactly. He wasn't sure how or why, but every time he glanced at it, five minutes had passed. 10:03. 10:08. 10:13. It was absolutely infuriating.

Lucy hadn't taken his blade off. It had taken him ten or fifteen minutes to realize it, but when he did, he found it didn't really matter to him anymore. Besides, he didn't want to bother Lucy; she seemed to be thinking about something really hard.

He was scared. That time had been close—the lights' rage had almost melted his brain, and then the hallucination nearly made him stab Lucy. Desmond just hoped they could make it to the CDG Airport without anymore incidents.

The gas light blinked on. Lucy groaned. "Not more gas."

"Yes!" Desmond was excited. "Let's go so I can get out of here and stretch my legs. This cab is too small if you ask me."

"No," Lucy said. "Remember the last time you had to 'stretch your legs'?"

"Oh come on, that was an accident-"

"No," she repeated firmly, sounding slightly irritated. "We can't afford any more accidents. You're not getting out of this truck."

Desmond decided to plead his case one more time. "It's already-" He glanced at the clock. 10:18. "-almost ten thirty, there'll be no one there-"

"I fucking said no!" Lucy snapped. "What part of that don't you understand? I'm not letting you get your way every single time." Her voice rose until she was shouting. "You don't seem to understand that I'm doing this for you, so that you don't get hurt, not just because I feel like pissing you off! So shut up and listen to me for once!"

Desmond was utterly speechless. He didn't realize how much of a douche he had been lately. Thinking about it, he soon realized that he had been manipulating Lucy to get what he wanted a lot. Not caring, he hadn't really been listening to her warnings about getting himself hurt.

"Sorry," he muttered humbly.

Lucy breathed in deeply, then sighed. "It's fine," she said, looking sideways at him and smiling a little. Desmond smiled back apologetically.

"But you still can't get out of the car." She was still grinning.

Finding a gas station, filling up, and getting back on the highway had taken about a half hour. Their estimated arrival time was now pushed back to six in the morning. They could've been in Paris and on a plane by now if they hadn't stopped to sleep. But Desmond knew that he and Lucy'd needed it—Lucy especially. You can't drive for twelve straight hours without a break. It was maddening.

However, on a motorcycle... It was exhilarating driving one; Desmond could ride his bike around the world ten times and never get tired of it. The feeling of the wind tugging at his skin and clothes, of weightlessness as he glided over the road was like a drug to him. Every time he'd gotten of his bike, he wished he could get right back on.

But that was more than a month ago. Desmond still couldn't believe how short it had been since he'd been home, and yet how long it felt. People were dying around him wherever he went now.

As for this chapter... I'm not really proud of it. It's cut off at a really random time. But it's chapter freaking eighteen! Whoever would've thought that I could get that far in a story? Thanks so much everyone for your continued support :)