Connor tries to avoid the little shimmers that indicate where his memory fragments are. It's not that he doesn't want to be reminded of home, it's just that… it's so hard to see them and not be there. Connor wants to go home.
So he pushes past the other things he sees, and doesn't answer Ratonhnhaké:ton or Desmond when they ask what the problem is. "It doesn't matter," is all he says, no matter how many times they ask. "We just need to keep going."
And he sees the looks they give each other, obviously worried. It would be a little annoying if it wasn't so nice to have someone looking out for him, for once. Still, neither of them makes him talk until they finally get to the fort. Or at least, Ratonhnhaké:ton does.
"I'm going by myself," Ratonhnhaké:ton announces as they get closer. "Neither of you are really here. You can't fight, you'll just distract me."
"Thanks," Desmond grumbles. His ears twitch in irritation, and Connor catches himself staring. Neither of the other two seem at all bothered by them, but men aren't meant to be wolves, and maybe Connor is just closed minded but Desmond makes him feel definitely uncomfortable. "Way to spread the love."
"What?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asks, pausing for a second in his preparations.
"Never mind," Desmond says. "Hey, Connor, do you think we even can stay here? I mean, how do we know we can separate from Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
"We did when I climbed the willow," Ratonhnhaké:ton says.
"That's not as much distance as there is between here and the fort," Connor agrees. "If you're going to insist on going alone, we should at least test how far we can get from one another first."
"Fine," Ratonhnhaké:ton sighs. "Wait here, then. I'll go a little way out and then come back." And without another word, he walks off.
Which leaves Connor alone with Desmond.
"So." Desmond leans against a tree, trying and failing to look casual. "You don't like me very much, do you?"
"You're fine."
Desmond makes a face. "Come on," he says, pointing to his ears. "I've had these all my life, I know what it looks like when people don't like me."
Connor sighs and relents a little. "Sorry," he says. "But they're strange."
Desmond shrugs and looks away. "I know," he says. But he sounds miffed.
"Sorry." Connor doesn't apologize often, but he and Desmond are stuck together for the foreseeable future, invisibly tied to Ratonhnhaké:ton. They might as well get along.
Desmond doesn't say anything for about a minute, and then he starts talking without any warning. "It's funny," he says. "The only thing that ever freaks people out is the ears."
"What else is there?" Connor asks after a beat. He's torn between curiosity and the intense desire to not know whatever Desmond is about to tell him.
"I got to see through Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes for a little while," Desmond says. "I saw what the world looks like to everyone else and it's different for me. I don't trust my eyes. They lie to me. The whole world pretty much looks blue and yellow. I'm not great with details, especially at a distance. But it's not like I miss things. My sense of smell and my hearing are way better than they should be."
"So what's the world look like to you?"
Desmond turns back and looks at him. "You're afraid."
"That's not what I asked-"
"That's what I see. Smell. You smell scared." He points somewhere back toward the forest. "There's a deer on the trail that way. I can hear it running, and the heartbeat. It's going to die soon, and it doesn't know yet. I can smell a whole pack of wolves tracking it. They're hungry, they haven't eaten much this winter. Probably because Washington's men have been overhunting the forest. That's what the world is like to me."
Connor nods, unsettled more by the flat tone in Desmond's voice than the description. Although he has to admit that's a little unnerving. But Desmond sounds so tired that Connor feels compelled to do something. He walks over to Desmond, hesitates with his hand outstretched. "Can I?"
Desmond's bark of laughter is loud in the near silence of the forest, echoing off the trees. "Have you ever scratched a dog behind the ears?" he asks. "And then you try to stop because you have something else to do, and the dog gives you this look like you just kicked it in the balls, and you're stuck there petting it for ages?"
Connor smiles a little and nods. Desmond smiles a little too. "Well that's because it feels ridiculously good."
"So that's a yes?"
"Only if you have half an hour to kill."
He doesn't know what he's expecting to feel when he finally brushes his fingers against the back of Desmond's ears, but it still surprises him when they feel real. Warm and soft, and if Connor closes his eyes it's easy to forget that these ears belong to a human. There's the sound of something falling off in the distance, and Desmond's ears twitch toward it. They're tense under Connor's hands, constantly tense until Connor hesitantly starts rubbing. Like an animal, except an animal wouldn't start laughing self-consciously, an animal wouldn't look at Connor the way Desmond does. His face all mixed up and confused, like he wants to ask Connor to stop but can't make the words come out. Like he hates Connor for treating him like a pet, hates himself for wanting it, hates Ratonhnhaké:ton for passing the ears on in the first place.
So Connor averts his eyes so he won't see, and rubs Desmond's ears until the tenseness goes away and he starts to relax. And when Ratonhnhaké:ton comes back with news about how far he can get from them, they step away from each other, and say nothing, and from then on, they are friends.
Connor takes some considerable pride from the fact that Desmond never lets Ratonhnhaké:ton near his ears, and always comes to Connor when he needs comfort.
-/-
"Vidic's a templar, you know."
Desmond looks at Lucy and nods. "Sure," he says. "I know." He doesn't, but he's not really surprised. Nothing would surprise him anymore, because he's been kidnapped and tortured and somehow all that has led to meeting two of the best friends he's ever had. Or one best friend, maybe. They're sort of the same person.
In the same way Desmond is sort of human.
Wait.
Vidic is a templar?
"Shit," Desmond moans, covering his face. His whole family has been assassins since- well, if he'd lived in Connor's world, he'd say for at least that long, but since Ratonhnhaké:ton isn't an assassin, Desmond isn't sure how far back that heritage goes. Either way, Vidic is going to super for sure kill him. Even more than he would have before. "So between him and the king, I'm about 9000% dead by now, right?"
"Probably," Lucy says quietly. She lets this hang in the air between them for a minute, and then, to Desmond's amazement, throws him a lifeline. "Unless you help me break out of here."
"What? Are you- you're serious?"
She nods, and folds one finger back against her hand- an age old sign of the assassins. "I have contacts," she says. "We can leave as soon as you finish your animus session tonight."
"I love you Lucy," Desmond says earnestly, and Lucy straight up laughs at him. But she blushes at the same time, which is weird because he'd just been kidding- normal girls don't like boys with wolf ears.
"Shush," she says, as the door slides open and Vidic walks in. "It'll all be over soon."
The day starts out the same as the previous few have, with Vidic complaining about the quality of the footage they're getting. Apparently, the fact that Desmond is no longer actually in Ratonhnhaké:ton's head is garbling the footage the animus can actually record. It doesn't look any different to Desmond, although… he supposes that maybe it does. It's not like he wants to be in the animus, but he will regret leaving Ratonhnhaké:ton and Connor without even a word of goodbye. They have been very nice to him, more than maybe anyone since his grandpa died. But if Desmond so much as hints that this is his last animus session, Vidic will know.
So he says nothing. Luckily, the others are distracted with finally reaching the fort and taking out Ratonhnhaké:ton's target. Desmond tries to pay attention, but it's hard when he can't do anything to help anyway. He trails behind the others, preoccupied until suddenly he is not. Ratonhnhaké:ton kills Arnold, and the scent of blood on the air forces Desmond to pay attention again. He can't help it. The smell catches something in his brain, and every sense expands in expectation of a hunt. Desmond can see Ratonhnhaké:ton looking down at the dead man with eyes wide and dilated from the same kind of instinct.
But he also sees something else, or smells it rather, the angry scent of a man coming closer. "Ratonhnhaké:ton!" Desmond shouts. "Turn around!"
But Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn't move, doesn't even seem to hear, and the man comes out of nowhere to hit him on the back of the head. And Ratonhnhaké:ton crumples senselessly to the ground, obviously out cold. That is the last thing Desmond sees before the memory ends and the animus ejects him back to the modern world. And he almost opens his mouth to ask if he can go back in, to make sure Ratonhnhaké:ton is okay, but he doesn't get the chance.
"Vidic's gone for the night," Lucy says quietly. "Left me to clean things up. It's time to go."
He may not ever get another chance. So Desmond nods and swings himself off the table, following Lucy without so much as a glance behind him.
-/-
Connor keeps his silent, pointless watch over Ratonhnhaké:ton as they travel. He hates that he can do nothing to help, as Putnam mocks the sleeping form of his other self, laughing at every fresh insult. Eventually, to Connor's enormous relief, Ratonhnhaké:ton wakes, and gradually shakes off the pain in his head. He is hunched over on all fours, like standing would take too much.
"Are you alright?" Connor asks.
Ratonhnhaké:ton growls at him, and for a second Connor thinks he won't answer. Then Ratonhnhaké:ton shakes his head to clear it, and manages actual words. "Yes," he says. Quiet, so Putnam won't hear. "I am fine. I will be fine."
"Do you want to talk?"
"Not really."
Connor doesn't much want to talk either, but there are maybe some things that need discussion. It would help if Desmond were here, but he has a habit of vanishing at awkward moments. Says it's because of the animus. Connor still has no clear idea of what an animus is, but he knows it makes Desmond's visits unpredictable.
Connor has no idea how to start a conversation, so the ride into Boston is silent apart from Putnam's continued mocking and threats. After a while, Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes find Connor's across the floor of the cage they're trapped in, and they share a look of weary exasperation. The man is almost enough to make prison a destination worth looking forward to.
Ratonhnhaké:ton almost smiles, and Connor almost smiles back.
When they eventually reach the prison, Connor hangs back while Ratonhnhaké:ton is chained and dragged to his cell. He has no desire to be locked in the cell as well, particularly when he can help. Not physically, but if he can see more than Ratonhnhaké:ton can, that will be some help.
"I'm going to see what else is here," he says when he and Ratonhnhaké:ton are alone, apart from a single guard. The man is busy mumbling to himself in the corner, so Connor doesn't worry about Ratonhnhaké:ton's answer being heard.
"Be quick," Ratonhnhaké:ton says quietly. He brings one hand up to grip the closest bar of his cell. "I do not like being caged."
Neither does Connor. Some things don't change. "I will be," he promises.
His exploration of the prison passes quickly, at first. There is a truly sorry collection of humanity, people of all classes and colors, gathered together in the cells, many in such poor condition that Connor can't even tell if they are man or woman. It is hard to see any similarity or common point between them, unless it is that they have somehow offended the king.
But there are one or two familiar faces. Kanen'tó:kon sits in a cell barely thirty feet away from Ratonhnhaké:ton, looking tired and hungry but better than most here. Connor stops in the doorway, looking for a moment in silence. It is hard. To see the friend he has killed, alive again. And now he is the ghost.
Hard. Many things are hard.
Connor curses the day the apples were ever made, and moves on.
He wanders farther into the jail, down a flight of stairs he would never have noticed if it had not glowed faintly in his eagle vision. Down here are men that look like they have not seen the light of day in months or years. Shriveled, hopeless samples of humanity at its worst.
All but one. In the very back is a man who stands proud and tall even in his cell, and stares at Connor almost as though he can see…
Connor crumbles under his gaze, momentarily horrified beyond reason. His mind goes numb, he cannot think. And then he cannot stop, trying to imagine the possibilities. What chain of events could have led to this man being here? Mother had said—he should be dead, even in this world.
Connor turns and runs back upstairs. He does not stop until he has returned to Ratonhnhaké:ton's cell—and of course Ratonhnhaké:ton has already found a way to free himself.
Ratonhnhaké:ton considers not saying anything. It would be so much easier not to say anything, to just walk off and let the man rot in his cell deep below the ground. But he has never been the kind of man to make things easier for himself, no, he has always sought out what is difficult, and so he shakes his head when Ratonhnhaké:ton says they should leave.
"No," he says.
"You… want to stay in this prison?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asks.
"No," Connor says again. "No, not at all. I just—we can't leave alone." He's stumbling over his words, anxious and flustered. He doesn't sound at all like himself, even to his own ears. "When I went to look around, I saw—there were two people. We need to free them both."
"Who?"
"Kanen'tó:kon, to start with," Connor says, because that is the easier place to start. Ratonhnhaké:ton smiles at his friend's name.
"He is here?"
"And relatively unharmed."
"Good! And who else?"
Connor takes a deep breath. "Our father," he says.
-/-
Sorry for the short chapter; midterms are coming up and I haven't had as much time to write as usual. And anyway, this seems like a pretty good place to leave things hanging. :)