She was dressed sharply. Much more so than anyone else around them. She stood much shorter than anyone else in her proximity, too. But yet, she definitely looked the most fierce. Her hair was a stark brown, and it was short – falling in waves around her chiseled face, in which two sharp, piercing blue eyes were darting this way and that. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her facial expression matched his: distaste. Her chin was prominent in its angle, and her stature was in no way a deterrent to her sense of presence. It rolled off of her in waves, the likes of which Desmond would never have been able to miss, even before his heightened sensory skills were implanted almost directly by his ancestors.

One thing he would never forget about his mother was the way her face changed when her eyes fell on him. The bitterness disappeared almost entirely. In ways that made him reconsider his harsh disposition about her many a time in future situations. Though, he did not know that would happen when she came striding towards him with her bodyguard in close tow. It flashed across his mind – the thought that his conscience would rest easier if he tried to remember this the next time he was angry with her – but it did not stop him from returning her... rather emotional embrace.

He did not cry... and for that, he was slightly disappointed in himself. Even his father, face buried in his son's shoulder, cried. For a moment, Desmond already felt a choking sense of crowding, sandwiched in between two parents whose arms were locked tightly around him. With a sigh that was, at least, of genuine feeling, he kissed the top of his mother's head and leaned his own head down on his father's. They stayed like that for a while. Some of the other people around them, it seemed, had noticed. They smiled warmly at the reunion as they passed it, each one going on their way.

When they separated, Rachel Miles pulled back and cupped her son's face with both hands. "Hello, Desmond," she said with a smile.

One that he returned. "Hi, mom..." he replied, his husky voice thick, in spite of himself.

It had taken them much longer to get in to the airport than it did to get out... and sooner than he thought possible, Desmond found himself again in the back seat of his father's car. Up front, his parents were sitting close together. Beside him was his mother's bodyguard, a quiet young man named Jared. Jared didn't really seem interested in talking or making friends. Desmond wasn't, either.

Instead, he looked out the window again. The city of New York had been bright when the sun was going down, but it was practically radiating timed pulsed of light now that the moon was up and the stars were out. Desmond made a funny noise unintentionally when he thought about the phrase. How did stars come "out"? What did they go "in" to during the daytime?

"–has been great. She's a wonderful asset to the team, I can't wait for you to meet her," came his father's droning voice.

"Oh, I'm sure. Have you met Lila, Desmond?"

That was his name, wasn't it? He raised his head a little and looked up front. The voice was female, so it had to be his mother. She was the only female in the car.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I've met Lila." In the rear view mirror, he could see his father fidgeting uncomfortably. "I definitely met Lila. I like her."

"Oh, good! And here, I was worried you would have trouble getting along with everybody. You didn't always play nice with the other kids on the farm."

"Well, that's because the other kids on the farm sucked."

She laughed at that, and turned to William. "He certainly does have your sense of humor, Bill."

"Yes..." said William, and his aged eyes looked almost kindly when they smiled back at Desmond through the mirror. "He has, hasn't he?"

A warm feeling settled itself in Desmond's stomach. And that made it much easier to deal with the chatter that they immediately launched themselves back into.

There was almost a feeling of relief that not much had really changed in the family dynamic. Not that Desmond much cared for being almost forgotten about during conversations anymore now than he ever did... but because it felt like he would get a chance to pick up where he left off. But they HAD said more to him since Rachel's arrival than they had when he was with them on Farm. There was some comfort in that. And much as he liked to complain... and still felt he had a good enough reason to... he could not deny there had been some honest improvement. Even though he had barely reconnected with his mom for an hour, at that point, he could tell there was a difference for the positive in just her emails, alone... It made him smile...

At the same time, he was preparing for the inevitable setbacks that would come with it. Because they were more attentive to him. But they were also still very linear thinkers... so they didn't really think much of his displeasure with them outside of his grievances of their emotional distance. That meant, to him, that they would probably not understand his own newly-developed need for distance. It might confuse them, or hurt them... even piss them off. And he wasn't quite sure how to handle that, and it bothered him.

He hesitated to ask Shaun for anything else. For a second, he even thought about asking Jared – the looks that came flashing across his face whenever William and Rachel said some things were priceless. But, he decided against it... and when he suddenly jolted to and realized they were back in the city realms, he didn't see any other option. He was obviously not about to come up with something good on his own, if it had taken a whole drive just to come back to the ask-Shaun option...

Coming up around the corner was Bad Weather. Desmond couldn't help feeling some of his nerves starting to act up again when he thought about it. His mind went back to his father talking to him about it earlier. "You've lived here longer than I have. Your bar is a short walk from here, actually," he had said. Desmond couldn't help wondering, did his dad think about it often. Had he ever been there, just to see what it was like? To see where his son had fled to? He wasn't sure if that made him feel flattered or invaded...

The flashing lights of the bar's sign did nothing to quiet his stomach. There was many a brighter sign around it, but it seemed like the most prominent one to Desmond – something he noticed was frequently the case whenever he approached it under normal circumstances, even. Christine was even out... pacing in front of the door with a cigarette.

It was this that caught Desmond's attention. Chris smokes now? he thought... What's THAT all about...?

He took a closer look, and the whole world seemed to slow down to make it easier for him to.

What was immediately obvious was that she was not happy. Her usually bubbly laugh lines were gone... instead replaced by lines of worry. Her eyebrows rarely crinkled like that, in Desmond's memory. She almost never seemed to be upset. But she definitely was, as she took a long drag from that cigarette in her hand. Something he couldn't say he approved of... but he supposed he gave up the right to give her advice a long time ago. Er... sort of. It was more like it had been taken from him...

She looked up right as their car began to pass. She must have seen him staring with so much concern out the window, because she blew him a kiss and winked. Her smile was glowing in his direction all the way around the corner.

When she disappeared around the bend, Desmond returned to facing forward, before his mom or dad could notice. He could see Jared already had, out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn't worried about Jared. He wondered about the look... and the smoking. He might have just thought the smoking was because she owned a bar. People in bars smoked, after all... but the look on her face told him it was a stress reliever more than just an environmental influence. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed a sharp exhale out. His mom had finally fallen quiet, and her head had come to rest on his dad's shoulder.

He couldn't resist narrowing his eyes at her for a moment, but stopped when he remembered how she'd looked in the airport – it wasn't her fault Desmond had happened to catch sight of Christine smoking on the night of her return to the Assassin Headquarters. And as such, it wasn't fair to blame her for his suddenly burning curiosity. The gleaming of the necklace hanging down on his chest reminded him, he was happier to see her than his gut reactions sometimes suggested to him.

So, he put a smile on as they climbed out of the car. William paid Jared what looked like a sizable chunk of cash right from his pocket and thanked him for his assistance. Then, the Miles family took a formal position: Rachel in the middle, with William and Desmond on either side of her, arms linked. She sighed wearily as they began making their way towards the Headquarters. Desmond could see Lila behind the desk, smiling up at them as they approached. He immediately noticed the dressy outfit she was wearing, and wondered if she was risking too much of a giveaway by greeting them in it. He looked down over his own body, and raised an eyebrow – perhaps HE had overdone it, wearing a suit and tie.

"SURPRISE!" came the excited, combined bellow of the crowd when the doors had opened and closed behind them.

Desmond thought it was possible he was taken by more surprise than his mother was. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as the banner dripped from above, but the noise had made him jump back a bit... and the lights were turned up at the perfect moment to make him squint and shield his eyes. Rachel noticed, too – she wrapped her arms around his mid-section and hugged him when she saw his reaction to the bright lights and sudden noise. He returned the hug with one arm, and let the other go to his pocket. It felt nice to have her there, overall – the party was just another good reminder. Even if he had felt (and still felt, especially after seeing Christine) that it was over-exuberant.

Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca approached first, followed by Lila and some others Desmond barely recognized. There was a young boy clinging to Lila's hand, looking around with very anticipatory eyes at all the excitement taking place around him. Desmond smiled as he immediately registered who it was...

"Lucy! My God, look at you!" exclaimed his mother from beside him.

He observed their friendly embrace with pleasure, but noticed Rachel held on a little longer than necessary for a formal gesture of greeting at such a formal event. Lucy seemed to notice, too.

Lila went straight up to Desmond, though. "Desmond," she said, "this is my son, Brandon."

"Hi!" greeted Brandon, enthusiastically, and he extended his hand out for Desmond to shake.

And Desmond did. "Hi, Brandon," he answered. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too! My mom talks a lot about you!"

"Oh?" At this, Desmond looked up to see Lila blushing red. "And what does your mom say about me?" he couldn't resist adding.

He was half teasing, but Brandon answered anyway. "She says you're really cool! Says you helped a lot to get me here... She also says you took care of her while I was gone."

And with that, he launched forward and tightly hugged Desmond's legs.

"Thanks." He pulled back and looked up at a touched Desmond earnestly.

Desmond exhaled sharply and looked up. Over Brandon's head, over Lila's... at the banner with his mom's name on it. His mom's name and a welcome back message. He grinned, and took a deep breath. A quick glance and a raised eyebrow at an even-redder Lila told him she did not disapprove.

So he looked back down and smiled. "You're very welcome, Brandon." And he ruffled Brandon's already messy red hair. "But you got it from here, right?"

Brandon nodded frantically. "Yep, I can handle it!"

Lila giggled. "Okay, okay. Very good. Now, why don't you go play with the other kids? Mommy needs to talk to Desmond and the others for a little while."

"Sure," answered Brandon, and made to take off.

"Wait, wait, wait," interrupted Lila. And she knelt down and hugged him. "I love you."

"Love you, too, mom," he answered.

The awkwardness in his voice widened Desmond's grin. He looked like he was about 8 or 9. Not quite old enough to understand how important it was to cherish his time with his mother. But yet, definitely impressed upon by his rough-sounding history.

"Stay where I can see you," added Lila, just as she released him and watched him run off towards the play area with the other children.

"Okay!" he yelled back.

Both Desmond and Lila watched him go, and she sighed.

"Thank you," she said after a moment of watching him play with others.

"For?"

"For talking to your dad. He was... much more receptive to my request about Brandon after you did."

"Oh, no problem," replied Desmond. "I know how it goes with my old man, sometimes... Not the world's most sympathetic guy, you know?"

She giggled again. "Yes. I know..." And she looked up at him for a moment. "How are YOU doing?" she asked. "Holding everything together?"

Something about her question triggered a yawn in him. "I'm just tired," he managed to say through it. "No idea why. It's not like I've done a lot today."

"I can only imagine it's the mental strain of everything you've been through lately. It hasn't been an easy life, for you, especially."

"Yeah, you can say that again..."

She nodded, but did not say anything more. She hugged him, patted his arm, and then moved on to meet Mrs. Miles with a quick farewell smile.

Almost like a magic trick, she was replaced by Lucy standing in front of him. "Hi!"

"Hi, Lucy," he said.

They embraced, as well... and by the time she pulled back, he felt better already.

"So, how did it go? Was it... really strange, seeing your mom again, after all this time?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "It's still a little weird, actually." For a second, he watched his mom, who had begun talking to Shaun and Rebecca. "Did she look like this when you last saw her?"

"More or less, but I haven't seen her in longer than you haven't. In person, I mean."

"Ah, yes. That's right, I keep forgetting."

She shrugged. "It happens. I imagine you have a lot to think about."

She paused for a second... and then looked up and touched his wrist. "But, listen... thank you, Desmond, for hanging out with me. I, uhm... don't like to be alone, you know? Especially after... well, you know."

Desmond nodded in quick understanding. He didn't really want to think or talk about Lucy's mistakes at the moment. Especially not when she was standing within arm's length and wearing such a beautiful black dress... It fit snugly around all the right parts of her.

"Yeah, I gotcha," he said for added emphasis on his desire to be done with the topic. "And you're welcome."

She touched the side of his face for just a moment, and then moved on. He watched her go with mixed feelings of weariness, sadness, and a little relief, even – because he just didn't think he had the space in his brain to sort through his complicated feelings for her...

"Desmond! Mate!"

Forcibly, Desmond's attention snapped back to the situation at hand. It was now Shaun who stood before him, with a hand out to shake.

But as soon as he did, Shaun yanked forward. Effectively drawing Desmond's ear by Shaun's mouth. "I want to hear everything," he whispered.

"Okay," Desmond answered immediately. "You will."

Separate once again, Desmond and Shaun exchanged grins... then the latter excused himself and disappeared somewhere off into the crowd.

Desmond scratched the back of his head as he and Rebecca did not even bother to pretend, and he found himself faced with strangers. Strangers all that one or both of parents seemed to know and trust, so that ceased to be an issue for Desmond. Apart from the usual social awkwardness of meeting someone new, that is...

Fortunately, it did not last too long. After Desmond caught his parents looking sideways at him for yawning, he started making himself yawn.

Till finally, "Desmond, son, why don't you go have some food and sit down? You look worn out."

For once having no desire whatsoever to argue with his dad, Desmond nodded and faked an apology before setting himself up at an empty table that was placed in the lobby for the party.

It wasn't long before Shaun joined him there. "You look about how I feel, Desmond," he said.

"What, worn out?" quipped Desmond.

"Precisely." Shaun sat down in a chair, loosened his tie, and leaned back in it. "Party's a huge hit though." And his tone softened a bit as he continued, "You must be somewhat happy to see her, mustn't you?"

Desmond sighed and looked over at his mom. She was having a piece of cake and talking excitedly with another woman who looked to be about her age.

"I suppose I am," he replied truthfully.

His fingers went to his necklace. He hesitated to say his next bit... but it didn't take him long to decide to do it even with his doubts. In large part because, if he couldn't tell Shaun, who could he?

"I just... don't know how to take it all in, you know? I mean, I haven't seen her for so long. Since I was 16-years-old, Shaun... It's a while."

Shaun scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, it is..."

His nonchalance irritated Desmond more. "And yet, it doesn't seem like there's been much change!" he exclaimed without shouting. "They don't need me... They talked the whole way down from the airport with each other. Never asked for my input. Not sure how I should feel about that. Not sure how I should feel about ANYTHING that's been happening since before my dad came back. Came back into my life, I mean..."

Shaun nodded, but poked his forehead – a gesture he always used whenever he thought of something he was proud of. "Well, Desmond... nobody here knows what to make of it. I'm gonna guess these just aren't issues anybody but you and I know about."

"Yeah. Yeah, good guess. Right on the money."

"Well, then, in that case, all there is to do is make it through one day at a time."

Again, Desmond hesitated. But again, it did not last long. "I just wish they would make it easier. Show they care about me some more, you know?"

"I think they do, Desmond," replied Shaun. "But, they don't know how else to go about these things. You were their only son, and you left them. And their lives didn't exactly give them a good first-hand experience with families. There was never much chance for their relational skills, you know?"

Desmond sighed... and continued fingering his necklace... "You sound like Christine," he said after a moment.

Shaun did a double take, and leaned forward to listen closer. "I'm sorry?"

"Christine. When I used to tell her about my parents, she always said there must be a reason."

Shaun's eyes blinked a couple of times, quite pointedly, and went back to his original sitting position. "You, uh... shared your life story with your bar girlfriend?"

"Not all of it. It might have scared her off. Robbed me of a home, in the process."

"Mmm," was all Shaun said. He looked around, as if he was observing. But he didn't seem able to stop himself from adding, "Seen her recently, have you?" a couple of moments later.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Yes." He let his necklace drop from his fingers and eyed Shaun directly. "Did my dad go there?"

"What?" asked Shaun, as if he hadn't heard.

But Desmond knew better. "Did my dad go to Bad Weather."

"Not to my knowledge," answered Shaun. "He DID notice your little outburst, though. When he mentioned it. Gotta be careful with that, if you don't want him to show up there sometime."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," repeated Shaun. "He IS curious, though... Very, very curious. He says you've been gone a lot. Never said it outright, but I think he kind... of guessed where you were. Makes him wonder. Make us ALL wonder..."

Desmond threw his hands up. "About what? I went to a bar."

"A bar you used to work in. Live in, it sounds like. After all that's happened, you can't blame us for wondering. What was it like?"

Desmond stopped. Did he really want to talk to anyone about this? On the one hand, Shaun was definitely his closest friend on the Assassin side of his life. He was being more than just a little helpful... and it seemed to Desmond their friendship had progressed beyond the plan to hook him and Lucy up. They talked about a lot, spend a great deal of time together, it seemed like, outside of things revolving around Lucy.

On the other, Shaun's words were coming off as something of an attempt to defend his parents' position. Not a bad thing, per se, but not the way someone who understood what was happening to him would act. Desmond was more than willing to bet Shaun was playing both sides of the fence, here – probably even more than just the two. How much of what he said to Shaun would make it back to his parents?

Still, the logic that he didn't want to chase Shaun away compelled him to answer. "It's uh... it's pretty cool. Weird how things have changed there, you know? Weird to see Christine again. And Nick."

"Who's Nick?"

A smirk came to Desmond's scarred lips. "Nick is a friend of mine from... back then. He still goes there all the time. To Bad Weather, I mean. Seems pretty happy to see me. It's a little flattering."

Shaun crossed his arms. "Oh?"

"Well, you know what I mean. Nick's one of those guys who needs a little help getting through life. Doesn't know what to do with himself."

"That sounds familiar, if I may say so," remarked Shaun.

Desmond looked up from his hands. "How so?"

"Well, at this point, it sounds a little... like you."

"Like me?" asked Desmond incredulously.

"Yes, very much so. Take a look at you."

"What's wrong with me?" said Desmond, self-consciously flattening his suit down across his stomach. "I think I'm doing very good, all things considered."

"No, no, no," said Shaun. "Don't take me wrong, I'm not saying you can't find a way. Just, you seem to be having a hard time with it."

"I'm sorry, but it hasn't been a great life. recently," snapped Desmond. "I was born and raised in a hippie compound by a taskmaster for a father for sixteen years. When I finally got away, it took a lot to keep myself fed and sheltered. Even when I finally found a place to be, all of a sudden I find myself locked up in some lab halfway across the globe with these creepy scientists rummaging through my ancestors' history! I get out of there, and I don't even get to just go home and move on with it! I get sucked into an all-out war for the world! And that's all without going into the sun's–"

"–alright, Desmond, I take your point," Shaun interrupted with no remorse. "And mine is simply that it hasn't been an easy life for anyone. I'm trying to be understanding about it. Trying to remember, you weren't here for as long as we were. Your parents are, too. Just, give them a break, if you can."

Desmond could feel the heat draining from his face... replaced almost immediately by embarrassment. "Yeah... Okay, I can try that."

"Good," replied Shaun, curtly.

For a few moments, they sat in silence. Shaun didn't seem to want to get up and go anywhere, so he stayed put. Desmond located Lucy in the crowd. She was walking to and fro between people, shaking hands and exchanging hugs. Rebecca wasn't too far behind her. She was doing something on her phone, and occasionally whoever Lucy was talking to would get her attention. Desmond tried not to focus on her too much. He just stared at Lucy...

"Is something bothering you, Desmond?" came the distant sounding voice of Shaun. "Seriously, I mean?"

Desmond let the side of his head bump down on the table. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

When he didn't say anything else, Shaun made a get-to-it hand gesture.

"Nah, don't worry about it," said Desmond. "I think you've got enough to worry about."

"Or, you think you've told me enough?" questioned Shaun.

Even with the tension, Desmond couldn't resist a grin. "That's a way to put it, I guess."

More silence. When Desmond looked over to where Lucy had been standing, she was gone. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair with a sharp exhale.

"Is it the bar?"

He turned in Shaun's direction with a look of confusion on his face. "Huh?"

"Did something happen there? At Bad Weather, I mean..."

On an impulse, Desmond shrugged and answered him. "I don't know. I saw Chris out pacing. She was smoking, too. Never seen her do that. She looked... distressed, I guess."

"Ah..." said Shaun knowingly. "Something on your mind after all, then."

"Yeah," returned Desmond. "Of course."

Shaun appeared to deliberate. His eyes looked to the side, and his lips jutted out. "Think you better get going, then?" he said after a moment.

Desmond looked over at him and saw that he was smiling.

"Because I just don't think you're going to get anything better here. Best to face up to your problems, Desmond. If there's one real good lesson to take away from all this bullshit, that would be it. Running doesn't fix it."

It was cheesy. Very cheesy, but Desmond agreed.

That... and he was looking for an excuse to get out of there, anyway. As his vision scanned over the crowd of people in the room, he realized how choked it felt. Like the airport. Crowds had never really been his thing, to begin with.

Again, he could practically hear Ezio in his head. "I agree, Desmond. Much harder to keep track of things with so many people around."

But, my mom's just got back... he thought back.

"And she is not going anywhere, I'm sure. You have a duty to your friends, to yourself. Do not waste your life always trying for the other person. Balance in all things is a good practice. I can attest to that..."

I know you can, thought Desmond, and he grinned again. "Okay, then," he then said aloud to Shaun. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," said Shaun. "Good luck."

With a nod in Shaun's direction, Desmond was out of the chair and to the elevator. Some small part of him thought he should tell his parents... something, anything. But he didn't want to look for them. So, he let the doors close behind him on the elevator... closing out the noise behind him as they did.

During the ride up, Desmond's mind went back to Christine. What could possibly be wrong...?

He didn't get long to think about it, though. A tall building with a fast elevator made for a short ride. He entered the dimly-lit hallways in silence. A silence that he reveled in as he made his way around the corner to his room. For a moment, he wondered why he had chosen one in such an odd location. His father had given him his pick of anywhere else in the building.

But he still chose one on the ninth floor, he mused... and turned the key to open it. As soon as it shut behind him, he stripped of his suit and tie immediately. He thought he shouldn't wrinkle it up, but he didn't bother enough to throw it over the bed nearest the door. The one he didn't use often, unless he was too tired to make it to his other one.

While he brushed his teeth with one hand, he searched for some bar-appropriate clothes in the other. He found a black hoodie, and matched it with dark blue jeans and an also-dark t-shirt, but it was red. When he had his teeth brushed and his new outfit on, he strapped a knife around his thigh. New York could be a dangerous place at night, but he was sure there weren't many people who would be better with a knife than him in the city – a thought that earned a chuckle from his ancestors.

He looked around the room to see if anything jumped out at him. Anything he needed to take or mess with... But nothing. He took his key and went to the window. Looking down, he saw it wasn't as long a climb as it appeared from the outside. He swung one leg through it and found a foothold easily. One after another, he put his talents to good use and scaled down the side of the building. It seemed a little extreme, but it worked well, and he didn't have to worry about the crowds or slipping past his parents.

He shuddered a little when his feet touched the ground. It was definitely getting colder out. But he didn't focus on it much as he set off in a mild jog in the direction of the bar. It was time to find out what was bothering Christine... and see if he could help, in any way...