They get to the apple of Eden easily enough, but Desmond hesitates before actually touching it. The thing sends a cold, sick feeling through him, and he can't stop worrying about whether it's going to do to him what it did to Washington and Connor. If he touches it, will it take him the way it took them?
"Come on, Desmond!" Cross calls impatiently. He has to shout to be heard, because he's standing a relatively safe distance away. "We didn't come all the way here just to look at the damn thing, did we?"
"What if this one's evil too?" Desmond shouts back.
"What?"
"I said what if it's evil too!"
"Then we're fucked!" Cross calls. "But we're fucked without it anyway, so who cares?"
This is a fair point. Desmond takes a deep breath, and reaches for the apple. His hand shakes when he closes it around the piece of Eden, but nothing happens. Desmond lets out his breath in a long, slow sigh of relief, and heads back toward Cross. Maybe he shouldn't have worried in the first place, it's not like anything bad had happened to Ezio when he used it. But Desmond doesn't understand how the apples work, and he's having a hard time trusting anything these days.
"Great," Cross says. "Fantastic. Let's go. The others are waiting for us on the surface."
"Do you want to radio ahead to them?" Desmond asks.
"Too far underground," Cross says, and for a little while they just move onward in silence. Then, Cross says, "What are you going to do with that, now you have it?"
"Uh…" Desmond looks down at the apple. "I don't know. I didn't really expect it to be this easy to get our hands on one. I haven't really been thinking ahead."
"You should start," Cross suggests.
"Why me?" Desmond complains. "I'm new to all this, remember? A month ago, I was a bartender in New York."
Cross shrugs. "Doesn't matter what you were last month," he says. "This month, you're taking down the King."
"But why me?" Desmond says, and he knows at once that he's whining too much. But frankly, if any situation deserved it, he'd assume this would be it.
"Because you had the bad luck to be in the wrong place in the wrong time," Cross says. "Sometimes that's all there is to it."
"That sucks," Desmond says.
"Better you than me," Cross says, in a voice that is altogether too cheerful, and then they're back at street level. They put their conversation on hold for the moment to call the others and let them know they're ready for pickup, and then when that's done, Desmond starts casting around for a change of subject.
"Have you ever been out of the US?" he asks after a while.
"Russia," Cross says.
"Is it anything like this?" Desmond asks, gesturing around at the Italian streets surrounding them.
Cross shrugs. "Some parts," he says. "Not everything. But it's not as backwards as America, anyway."
"That's what happens when you have a King from the seventeen hundreds," Desmond grumbles. "Progress pretty much stops."
They reach a main street, and Desmond hears a screech from overhead—looks up as an eagle (Ratonhnhaké:ton? Haytham?) swoops by. He's holding something small and furry in his talons, and lets it go just as he passes Desmond. Just in time, Desmond leans forward and catches—ah. A squirrel. So this is Haytham, and the eagle is Ratonhnhaké:ton. Desmond smiles at the rodent and tucks it into the pocket of his hoodie.
"Do you think this apple can undo what that apple did to them?" Desmond asks Cross, gesturing to both squirrel and eagle.
"Maybe," Cross says. "Might be a good trial run, I suppose. See what it can do."
"So should I try?"
"Maybe not out in the open like this," Cross says, after a brief hesitation. But he looks thoroughly interested in the idea of testing the apple out, and he helps Desmond find an out of the way corner where no one is likely to see them. It's behind a pile of equipment in the middle of a construction site, which… isn't the most private place imaginable, but they're both too impatient to look for anything better.
When they're out of sight, Desmond gently lifts Haytham out of his pocket to rest him on a waist high crate, and then calls for Ratonhnhaké:ton as well. When they're both on the crate, eyeing Desmond warily, he takes out the apple. Instantly, both his ancestors are in a panic—flapping wings and a twitching tail and the smell of fear thick and sudden in the air. Desmond catches himself looking around for Haytham, and of course he's there, right there, and between the two of them they manage to calm the two animals.
Slowly, Desmond brings out the apple again, and waits for Ratonhnhaké:ton and the animal Haytham to slowly grow used to it. "This isn't the same as the thing that hurt you," he says. "It's going to help. Not hurt."
"Are you sure?" Haytham asks, and Desmond… can't entirely blame him for the lack of trust in his voice. "Why wouldn't this one be as bad as the other?"
"Because it's like Cross said," Desmond answers. "We're fucked if they're both evil."
"It's a tool," Desmond says. "Like a knife. Isn't it?"
"Is it?"
"You're going to talk me all the way out of it," Desmond warns.
"No," Haytham says, and he gives a little half laugh. "I don't know you all that well, but I don't think you're going to let anyone talk you out of anything you know you need to do."
Well—maybe. Maybe not. But this is a big thing, and Desmond doesn't see anyone else lining up to undo what the King has done.
He holds the apple in both hands, closes his eyes, and hopes for the best.
-/-
There's something new happening in Ratonhnhaké:ton's brain. No, not new—he can remember feeling like this before. Before he was an animal, when he was still himself and had his own mind. His thoughts are speeding up, growing more complicated and deeper.
Memories are coming back, and not just memories. Ratonhnhaké:ton is coming back to himself.
He hits the ground suddenly, and hard cement slams into his back. It's cold, and Ratonhnhaké:ton curls into a defensive, shivering ball. He breathes in short, shallow gasps, and for a long, confusing second he doesn't even realize that he's—he's human again. With an effort, he pries his eyes open, and heaves himself backwards, groping until he finds a solid feeling wall to prop himself up against. Desmond is standing in front of him, looking flat out terrified and holding an apple (Ratonhnhaké:ton's stomach churns).
"What happened?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asks. Then he asks again, because the first time his voice had been too hoarse for anything he said to actually be audible. He's cold and naked and terrified. "Desmond, what—"
"It's okay," Desmond says quickly. He stows the apple in his bag, and crouches on the ground in front of Ratonhnhaké:ton. "I mean… I think it's okay? How are you? Do you feel okay? Do you remember anything?"
Ratonhnhaké:ton groans and presses a hand to his forehead. His head is absolutely killing him. "Yes," he says. "I remember… a lot. More than I want to."
"Sorry," Desmond says.
"No," Ratonhnhaké:ton says. "You weren't the one that…you didn't take my humanity away from me. You gave it back."
Desmond half laughs and turns red in the exact same second.
Then someone coughs and splutters next to them, like a man coming up for air after too long underwater. Ratonhnhaké:ton turns, in a too-slow motion. He's been animal for so long, it feels unnatural to have traded all those forms for human so suddenly. It's going to take a while to get used to that again. But when he finally manages to refocus, he sees his father lying spread out on the ground next to the two of them. The other Haytham is standing nearby, looking…suitably uncomfortable, and maybe a little relieved.
"You're back," he says.
Ratonhnhaké:ton nods. That's what it feels like. Like he's come back from somewhere far away. Only that somewhere was inside his own head, and coming home is wonderful but it hurts.
"We're back," he agrees.
"And you're not going to… to do that again," Haytham says. "You're not going to turn animal."
"No," Ratonhnhaké:ton's father says.
"Father! Are you alright?"
"No."
Ratonhnhaké:ton meets his father's eyes, and an understanding passes between them. It's been this way for so long. They didn't have words, so when they spoke it was in other ways. Little gestures, a glance, pieces of unspoken conversation, stretching out across the centuries. Connections to one another, tenuous as a spider's web, binding them together. The two of them.
The three of them.
Ratonhnhaké:ton helps his father sit up, and after a moment Haytham crouches down, in front of them.
"We're okay," Ratonhnhaké:ton says. "We will be."
"And we're no longer freaks," his father says, and although he's looking at Ratonhnhaké:ton the words are obviously meant for Haytham. They are obviously meant to provoke.
"I did say that once," Haytham admits, after a lengthy pause. "I should not have."
Then, after an even longer time, Ratonhnhaké:ton's father sighs. "No," he says. "But I thought it myself, once upon a time."
It's not quite an apology, but Ratonhnhaké:ton thinks it will be enough. For the moment. "Are we going to save Connor?" he asks.
"It's not just up to us," Haytham says. "It's partly a question of what the others are willing to do, and partly a question of what we can do."
"But you do want him back," Ratonhnhaké:ton says. "Don't you? He's your son."
"Yes," Haytham admits, after a while. "Yes, I think I do."
"So…" They all look up as Cross interrupts suddenly. "Am I the only one that can't see the invisible person here, or…?"
"Yea," Desmond says. "Yea, you're pretty much the only one."
"At least until anyone else shows up," Haytham adds, rather pointlessly. Cross still can't hear him. "And then I'm invisible again."
Desmond shakes his head, and when Ratonhnhaké:ton looks up, he sees his descendant's face is set into a stony expression. "Only for now," he says. "We'll figure something out, I promise, okay? I'm sick and tired of things being… all fucked up. You're going to get a happy ending. We all are."
-/-
There's no good way out of the hole Connor has fallen into. He's going to kill William Miles, and then he is going to go home. Or he is going to stay here in this cold cell until he dies of starvation, and the apple moves onto someone else. William himself, maybe. But none of this ends well for Connor. None of it. He is a dead man walking. Maybe literally, and maybe only in spirit. But everything worth saving in him is gone already.
And after everything he's done with the apple in his head, Connor knows he deserves it.
"What are you thinking about, over there?" William asks.
"Dying," Connor tells him. "You?"
"Living," William answers.
"You think there's any chance of that?" Connor asks. "You think we're going to have any kind of life after this? Really?"
"Of course not," William says dismissively. "But that's not what I meant. I'm thinking about the life I used to have."
"Your family?" Connor asks. William talks about his wife and son almost every day.
But not today. Today he just sighs, and hunches down into himself. He looks particularly bearlike in that position. Connor watches him for a moment. Thinks of his other self actually turning into a bear. At the time, he'd hated watching Ratonhnhaké:ton change, turn into animal after animal. Now he wishes their positions had been reversed. The simplicity of Ratonhnhaké:ton's life seems so much better than the impossible choice looming over his own.
"When I came here," Connor says, softly, after an interminable amount of time. "They said I'd have to kill you. And if I did, I'd go free."
"Do you believe that?" William says, after a long pause of his own. There is no urgency to this conversation, just as there is no urgency to anything either of them says to the other. Time doesn't mean much here.
"No," Connor says.
But you would be free, the apple promises him. You would be home.
"No kind of freedom comes with the price I would have to pay," Connor says. "So I won't pay it."
You'll die, the apple says.
And he knows he will.
-/-
Haytham has been animal for a long time, and it's so strange and (somehow, at the same time) wonderful to be back in his own body. The journey from Italy back to America is hardly enough time to get readjusted to himself, to hands and fingers, to two legs and two arms. He stumbles more than he should, but every time he does he looks at Ratonhnhaké:ton (who is as off balance as he is, but smiling, just all the time, so obviously excited to be himself again) and keeps going.
They eventually find their way back to their original safehouse—it looks so much smaller, now that Haytham is human. Then again, everything looks enormous when you spend most of your time as a squirrel.
"This place is definitely getting too cramped," Shaun complains when they're all crowded into the main room of the safehouse.
"Well hopefully we'll be able to go our separate ways soon," Vidic says. "Hopefully the King will die, and we'll never have to deal with one another again."
Haytham watches as everyone, as if by some unspoken signal, turns to look at Desmond. His ears twitch in sudden nerves, and his whole face turns pink. "I don't exactly have a plan," he says. "I just figure the apple is going to be a pretty good weapon to have on our side when we go after the King."
"You don't have a plan," Vidic repeats, flatly.
"I've been to the King's castle once already," Desmond says. "And I don't really want to go back. Apple or no, they could probably kill me before I was close enough to do anything."
"So draw him out," Haytham says.
They all turn to look at him now, and Desmond says "What?"
"I think it's a fairly safe assumption to make that the apples might be able to sense one another. It seems like they can do just about everything else, and now that you have one, you're a threat."
"Uh… I guess so," Desmond says. He doesn't look particularly threatening at this particular moment, even Haytham has to admit.
"It's a good thing," Haytham says. "We want him to know you're here."
"Right," Desmond says. "Sure. Only—he's going to try and kill me as soon as he knows I have the apple, right?"
"Sure," Ratonhnhaké:ton says, speaking up suddenly. "He's going to try. But you're going to kill him first."
It's not a question, not the way Ratonhnhaké:ton says it. The whole thing just sounds like a declaration of fact. Haytham shoots his son a grateful look, and a little nod.
"I guess I have to," Desmond says, but he doesn't look happy about it. "I just… I kind of wanted to save Connor, too."