ultimateform44: Have you really? O_o I didn't know my story could impact someone so much...
Ginger Katt: Ugh, Dead Space 2 freaked me out, especially Nicole. She looked kind of like Lucy though o3o
And, as always, thank you to:
-Darkzz009, for adding this story to their favourites
-Bunsididly the Pant, for adding this story to their alert
-ThePenNameNotTaken, for adding this story to their alert
-and The Master Assassin, for adding this story to their favourites
I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hands
And then I fell down yelling, "Make it go away!"
"Just make her smile come back and shine like it used to be!"
Then she whispered, "How could you do this to me?"
Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you
-Blue October's Hate Me
A split second later and Lucy was on the ground; Desmond had leapt to the side, out of her way. Lucy hadn't seen the ground coming and hit it face-first, landing then rolling twice. She didn't move. Her head had bent at an odd angle as she had rolled; Desmond feared she'd broken her neck.
"Lucy...?" He approached cautiously, unsure of what was going to happen.
Desmond crouched next to her, reaching out his left hand. Her eyes were still closed.
In an instant, she was up and on top of him.
"No one is trapping me anywhere!" she screamed. Suddenly, the colour drained from her face and her angry expression evaporated, replaced by one of shock.
Desmond withdrew his left hand from her stomach. It had been pure reflex and instinct, his instinct to survive. Her blood coated his blade.
Lucy brought a hand to her stomach, feeling the wet blood, her life draining out. She fell sideways, off of him, landing on her side in the dirt.
"You did it," she managed weakly.
"Yes, you did.." He could hear the lights' congratulatory tone.
Desmond sat up and moved beside her, on his knees, staring. "Oh, no..." he whispered, seeing the red on Lucy's white shirt, on the ground, on his hands. Memories of Cristina, of the pain Ezio felt watching his love die, coursed through his heart. This time, though, it wasn't the fault of thieves, but his own fault. No one else's.
He didn't know what to do. Lucy had always been the one in charge, the one with the plan of action. Desmond remembered the first-aid kit he'd dropped by the side of the road, and wished with all his heart he still had it. Somehow he doubted it would do any good, however; his blade had sunk in up to the hilt, piercing Lucy's stomach. In a few minutes it would break open, spilling bile inside of her, dissolving her from the inside out.
Trying not the think about it, Desmond decided he would comfort her. He lay down beside her, front to front, so her forehead was nearly touching his.
"I didn't want it to happen like this," Desmond half-sobbed. "You don't deserve this."
"It was the only thing you could do," came the soft reply.
"Oh God, I don't think I'm ready," Lucy whispered, staring into his eyes but not knowing it. She winced and grabbed at her midsection. "It hurts," she gasped, eyes stretched wide.
Desmond said nothing, only held her firmer, as if holding her would just keep her there forever.
"I'm so sorry. For everything. All of this is my fault. We could've just sat there in the Sanctuary, all of us, if I had just stayed in the Animus."
"She is slipping away," the lights said gleefully, swooping in closer, like vultures to a carcass.
Desmond pressed his forehead to Lucy's, who was beginning to grow cold, dullness in her eyes. He squeezed his eye shut, feeling hot tears welling up behind his eyelids. He sobbed once, twice, feeling utterly defeated. There was nothing he could do.
"How could you do this to me?" Lucy whispered, pain evident in every syllable. "It hurts," she moaned again.
Just let me burn
It's what I deserve
"I don't want it," she sobbed, crying out once in agony. Yet she never pushed him away; she actually got closer, needing comfort.
He could feel the lights' joy radiating through every cell in his body, and fought against them so he wouldn't start to feel the same.
Lucy's body tensed. "Oh God," she panted again. He see her jaw clench against more pain, her breath coming in short bursts. She stared straight ahead, face contorted in agony. Blood was beginning to stain her teeth.
And all Desmond could do was stare. There was nothinghe could do, not even attempt to comfort her.
She lay there, blood spilling out of her mouth. Lucy coughed once, sending blood and bile onto Desmond's face.
"Lucy... I'm sorry..." He attempted to apologize again, but words weren't good enough—they'd never be good enough. So the Assassin, after a brief hesitation, moved his head closer and pressed his lips to Lucy's, feeling no response whatsoever. Alarmed, Desmond pulled his head back, tasting blood.
Lucy's eyes were closed, and she didn't move. Tentatively, Desmond touched her cheek. No response.
It hit him like a punch to the gut. Lucy was gone. His only anchor since this whole crazy thing started had turned to dust, leaving him with nothing to hold on to. What would he do?
He stared, not moving for a couple seconds, then tears started flowing out of his good eye. He made no move to stop them, only watched as the face in front of him began to blur.
"Come, Desmond," the lights urged. "Today is the seventy-second day before the moment of awakening. You must awaken the sixth."
"Fuck you," Desmond growled. He was going no where.
The clearing became bathed in a red glow—the lights above him pulsed red angrily. "NO."
He felt himself being lifted away from her, away from his anchor. "No!" he gasped, reaching out to her. She was just out of his grasp.
The lights set him down on his feet, about a metre away from Lucy. As soon as he was able to move, Desmond fell to the ground and clung to Lucy again. "I'm notleaving her here!" he cried.
The red grew brighter, more intense, and he could feel the lights' anger overflowing. "Fine!" they screamed. "See how you like this!"
He was being taken away from her again, except this time the lights didn't put him down. He kept rising, through the leaves, the trees' branches whipping and cutting him. The lights rose with him until he was roughly fifty feet in the air. Looking down, Desmond felt a rushing in his stomach.
"How about now?" the lights asked harshly. He didn't answer, only stared wide-eyed downward.
Without warning, he was rushing back to earth, the wind battering at his skin. He fell through the branches like a rag doll, hurting too much to try to stop himself.
Desmond burst through the lower branches and... stopped, inches from the ground. The lights were next to him; they'd stopped him from falling.
He was gasping, eye wide, terror clawing at his heart, but looked to his left and saw Lucy again. He reached out and tried to touch her, to pull her closer.
With an unceremonious thump, Desmond hit the dirt on his stomach, then immediately scrambled back to Lucy. He nestled back beside her, staring hard at her face.
Yep. She's dead. Don't freak out too much though; from pretty much the moment I introduced the lights, I knew Lucy was going to die. It was inevitable -shrug-
Also: if you noticed, it just happens to be October tenth. Coincidence?