"Even God is easier to get a hold of."
A thick layer of snow crunched beneath their feet as they trudged into the house. It was a modest place, just a single story log-cabin home with wood paneling covering nearly every wall from floor to ceiling, save for the stone-wrapped fireplace across the living room. Brightly colored woven rugs lay on the wooden floors and rustic-style artwork adorned whatever wall space wasn't taken up by row after row of bookshelves. It felt warm and welcoming and for the first time all morning, Desmond felt truly relaxed.
"What do you think?" Rebecca asked.
"It's a lot better than warehouses and caves," he remarked.
"Want to know the best part? We can actually have real, home-cooked meals," Shaun said excitedly. "It's amazing."
"He's also a big fan of running water."
"I don't know how I ever lived without a proper toilet, Des. I honestly don't. And daily showers? I'd forgotten what those were like while we were roughing it. Speaking of toilets, though…" Shaun dropped the car keys on the kitchen counter and dashed down a nearby hallway.
"I think you literally scared the piss out of him," Rebecca joked loudly.
"I heard that!" Shaun yelled out from the bathroom. "And no! It's the coffee. I've had to go since the earthquake!"
"When he's done, can I take a quick shower while I'm here? I'm kind of, well…" Desmond gestured to the bloodstains covering his clothes and body. Between the scuffles at Abstergo, the leap into the pond, and the shootout along the highway, he was a mess. He felt dried blood caked to his arms and face and when he scratched an itch on his forehead, flecks of dried blood flaked off into his hands.
"Of course! Here," she said, leading him to the bathroom from where Shaun now emerged. She pulled a towel out of a cabinet and set it on the counter. "You want us to wash your clothes while you're here?"
"Sure. Thanks." It'd take a miracle to get the stains out, he thought, but it was worth a try.
"Alright. Well, if you need anything else, just holler," she said before leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
Finally alone, he undressed and piled his clothes near the door for Rebecca to find. He turned the knob all the way to the hottest setting and closed his eyes while he waited for the shower to heat up. As the bathroom filled with steam, he took several deep breaths, feeling the thick air fill his lungs, then stepped into the scalding water.
In the bedroom across the hall, Rebecca pulled a t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants of hers and a pair of Shaun's boxers from their dressers for Desmond. When she thought he was in the shower, she softly knocked on the bathroom door and opened it to find the pile of clothes he'd left for her on the floor. She swapped out his dirty clothes for her clean ones, started the laundry, and joined Shaun at the kitchen table, where he already had his laptop out and was in the midst of furiously typing across his keyboard. On the TV, a news anchor interviewed a tired-looking seismologist.
"…Unlike anything we've ever seen."
"Can we compare it to last year's winter solstice phenomena? Is there anything suggesting they're related? The dates seem awfully coincidental if not."
"Unfortunately we don't know. The cause of this year's event is unknown at this time…"
"How do you think he is?" Rebecca asked, opening a first-aid kit she'd pulled from a nearby shelf. "How he really is?"
Shaun used the remote to turn the volume of the TV down and glanced towards the bathroom, tightening his lips while he formulated his response. "Probably about as well as can be expected, all things considered. I'm sure it's a bigger shock for him than it is for us."
"He's not acting like it is." She pulled out a piece of gauze and peroxide to clean the cut in her arm where the glass had sliced her. "Have you called Bill yet?"
"I left a voicemail," he said matter-of-factly.
Rebecca cocked an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical smile. "You told him Desmond was alive in a voicemail?"
Shaun exaggeratedly clapped his hands together and answered in a mocking tone. "Hello, Bill! Hope all is well! Oh by the way, your only son is no longer dead. In fact, he's in our shower right now! Chat soon!"
"Don't be an ass."
He flashed a quick smile and reached for the first-aid kit. "Of course I didn't tell him that in a voicemail. I kept it vague and told him we have something urgent we need to discuss. Preferably in person and sooner than we'd planned."
Rebecca looked back towards the shower and sighed as she taped a bandage to her arm.
"What's wrong?" Shaun asked.
Her mouth set into a deeper frown. "I'm worried. What if something's not right?"
"An hour ago you thought I was crazy for being worried," he reminded her. "Something about watching too many movies?"
"No, that's not what I'm worried about. I mean, I'm worried about Desmond. Doesn't he seem a bit, I don't know, off to you?" She spoke in a low tone, as though she expected him to hear her from the shower.
Shaun thought for a moment, pressing his hands together in front of his mouth. "He seems a bit distant, I'll give you that," he answered at last. "But I imagine that even if he does remember anything he probably doesn't want to talk about it. You read the reports. There's trauma and then there's, well, whatever the hell happened to him."
Rebecca leaned her head on her hands. "So what do we do?"
"I'll tell you what we're not going to do: we're not going to pester him with questions. I'm not saying you were," he added quickly when she opened her mouth to argue. "I'm just saying we should let him have his space. He never was very easy to read, even before everything went to hell. Let him come to us. If he wants to talk, he will."
"It's just so hard to gauge where his head is at, and I guess I'd assumed things would just go back to normal."
"He'll be alright. Just give him some time."
She took a deep breath. "You're right."
"I usually am," he said with a smirk.
Rebecca just rolled her eyes and turned the volume back up on the TV.
Back in the shower, Desmond tilted his head side-to-side, stretching out the tightness in his neck. He relished in the sensation of the hot water running over his skin, a welcome change from the cold numbness of the last few hours. He stood with his eyes closed beneath the shower head for a few minutes, letting the water soothe his aching muscles. He focused on his breath, drawing the thick, steamy air into his chest and feeling the burning of his lungs melt away. For the first time since his return, he finally felt truly alive.
He stayed under the running water long enough that it'd started to run cold. Realizing he'd yet to start washing himself, he grabbed the bar of soap and started scrubbing. Though most of the blood and grime had washed off with the water, he still felt dirty and defiled, knowing that Abstergo had held him, or rather, his body, prisoner for that whole year. And so he scrubbed harder, trying to wash it all away until his skin was red and raw and the water was ice cold.
The steam had mostly dissipated from the bathroom by the time he stepped out of the shower and as he toweled himself off, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He leaned in closer, making sure he'd cleaned all the blood off his face and when he did so, he saw a faint razor-thin scar around his head just below his hairline. It matched the Y-shaped one on his chest, and nausea took hold as the weight of everything that had happened to him finally set in.
His hand shook as he ran his fingers along the scar on his head, feeling the small dimple just beneath. He'd read about it in the autopsy file, but seeing it for himself was an entirely different matter altogether. He couldn't pretend that their examinations, their experiments, didn't happen. He couldn't pretend that it wasn't him the file talked about. Not when the evidence stared back at him in the mirror.
He suddenly felt very empty, realizing that they'd taken everything out to examine, and in a panic started poking and prodding at his chest and torso. He felt solid and everything seemed to be accounted for and was in its proper place. Yet there was nothing in the file to suggest they'd bothered to put everything back.
But he'd felt his heart pounding in his chest. He'd felt the icy burn of winter air in his lungs. And he'd felt the grumble of his stomach as it yearned for food. Still felt it, in fact, as it grumbled and ached again.
And so somehow, he'd regenerated everything they'd taken. Somehow, he'd been pieced back together again. Maybe Shaun's monster movie theories weren't quite so far off the mark…
He put his hands on the edge of the counter and hung his head between his shoulders. The tightness in his right hand and arm that'd bothered him earlier that morning had returned and while the rest of him shivered, his hand and arm were hot, feeling as though they were being held to a flame.
He stood upright and stared at it, noting the subtle burn marks that criss-crossed over his skin. They were nothing like the other new scars across his body, where someone had made precise, defined cuts. Instead, his entire arm looked like it had melted and solidified again. And from the quick read through of his autopsy file, the burn marks were there before Abstergo had found him. He closed his eyes and tried to remember…
They'd just returned to the Grand Temple, the key to the inner chamber in his possession. It'd felt heavy in his hand, carrying the weight of the world in such a small object. The future of humanity, the future of the planet, had depended on him finding it in time.
He remembered standing outside the entrance to the Temple, getting that one final look at the sun before heading back inside, knowing it'd be the last time. The inner voice in his head told him to flee, to run away again, to find somewhere to hole up and hide out until the solar flares passed and to emerge only once it was safe for him again.
But he couldn't. Despite knowing how things would likely end for him, he couldn't run. Not again.
Instead, he'd tried not to think about it as he'd used the key to unlock the inner chamber. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other he'd walked to his death willingly.
Though this time, he'd know—
A loud knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts.
"Des? Everything okay?" Rebecca asked through the closed door.
"Uh, yeah. Everything's fine," he said, his cracked voice betraying him.
She paused. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," he snapped back, harsher than he meant to. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine," he repeated again, softer this time.
"Alright, you've just been in there a while. I left you some clothes to borrow until your clothes get done."
"I see them, thanks."
Her footsteps receded from the door and he slipped into the clean clothes she'd left for him. He rubbed his temples when he felt a headache coming on and he tried not to think about it too hard as he left the bathroom to rejoin the others.
Rebecca's face lit up from the far side of the table as he entered the kitchen. He grabbed his bag from the counter and took a seat opposite Shaun, who was in the middle of a phone call.
"Hey Bill, Shaun again," he said. "Rebecca and I have, er, found something I think you might be very interested in. Give us a call back as soon as you can. Hope all is well."
"My dad?" Desmond asked as he ripped the "evidence" tag off his bag and dumped the contents on the table.
"Even God is easier to get a hold of," Shaun said. "Hang on a moment, were those my boxers?"
"Rebecca left them for me," he stated matter-of-factly, sorting through the pile of things in front of him: soggy ticket stubs from Rome and São Paulo, his broken cell phone and wristwatch, and a waterlogged notebook.
"Re-bec-ca!?" Shaun hissed, drawing her name out across all three syllables.
"What? I didn't know if he wanted them or not."
Shaun rolled his eyes. "Fine, just keep them. You need them far more than I do now."
Desmond smiled impishly but said nothing as he tossed the ticket stubs and notebook in the trash.
"Do you want something to eat?" Rebecca asked as she stood up from the table. "We don't have much left since we were about to leave Montreal but I think there are some leftovers in the fridge. Or we have sandwich stuff. Whatever you want."
"Thanks," Desmond said and followed her into the kitchen. While Rebecca reheated some leftover pasta, he made himself three sandwiches, piled high with whatever he could find: sliced ham and turkey, two kinds of cheeses, a smattering of veggies, and a hefty helping of mustard.
"Hungry much?" Shaun asked, eyeing the leaning stack of sandwiches over his laptop screen as Desmond set the plate down on the table with a definitive thud.
He had already shoved a quarter of the first sandwich in his mouth. "I haven't eaten in over a year," he mumbled through his food.
Shaun shrugged and continued clicking away on his computer. "Fair point. Well since your mouth is a little preoccupied, you might be interested in listening to what we found out while you were using up all our hot water."
Desmond threw him an annoyed look.
"Kidding. I kid. As it turns out, there were a number of earthquakes all over the globe this morning, almost all of them at the exact same time as the one here in Montreal."
"That's weird," Desmond said, already rinsing down the first sandwich with a glass of water. Rebecca, who'd yet to even sit down, refilled it while he dug into his second of three sandwiches.
"Astute observation, as always. Anyways—" he ignored the disdainful look Desmond gave him— "most of these were centered in and around Rome, with a few spread to other parts of Italy. There were a few in Brazil and a couple in America as well."
"So what does that mean?"
"No idea. And apparently neither does anyone else." Shaun pointed to the TV, where the news ticker scrolling along the bottom indicated that geologists were still sorting out primary earthquakes from aftershocks, and were no closer to understanding the source of such a global phenomenon.
"Doubt they'll be able to come up with answers for these events either. Not exactly like anybody predicted the ones last year."
Rebecca sat down next to Shaun with her bowl of pasta. "So far they haven't triggered the end of the world again so that's good, right?"
"Your optimism is inspiring."
"Do you have any theories yet?" Desmond asked, now finishing his second sandwich.
"A few, though each is as unlikely as the last. But all of them center around you in some aspect."
"Around me? Why?"
"For one thing, almost all of these earthquakes happened in places you've been. Specifically, places you were near the end of last year. And for another, the timing is just far too coincidental. Exactly one year after you—well, you know. Again, these are just my theories. I'm sure others—"
A soft ringing sound coming from his computer interrupted him.
"It's Gavin," he announced.
"Who—"
Shaun held his hand up to silence Desmond as he answered the call. "Hello, Gavin."
Desmond could see a video chat open in the reflection of Shaun's glasses.
"Hi, Shaun. Are you and Rebecca okay?"
"We're fine. Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing that won't heal."
"Hey, Gav!" Rebecca said, leaning into the video.
"Hi, Rebecca. I assume you've heard about what's going on around the world?"
"Bex and I are looking into it now. Any idea what caused it?" Shaun's eyes flickered up to Desmond then back down to the screen between them.
"Not yet. But obviously this is now our top priority. Are you two still in Montreal?"
"We're at the safehouse now. We were down in the city when it happened, picking up a few more files from our analyst, but we made it out alright. We… got lucky," he said, meeting Desmond's eyes over the top of the computer screen again. The edge of his mouth curled up into a tiny smile, just enough for Desmond to notice. Off to the side, Rebecca was beaming.
"I want you two to keep an eye on things around there. See if anything turns up."
"That's going to be easier said than done. We, erm, may have blown our cover on our way out today."
"I thought it was just supposed to be a data pickup, what happened?" Gavin asked, the doubt obvious in his voice.
"It was, but in all the chaos… let's just say we won't be able to go back there undercover."
Gavin groaned and muttered under his breath. "Great. Now I have to figure out what the hell to do about Paris and Montreal."
"What's going on in Paris?" Rebecca asked, already clicking away on her own laptop to investigate. "Woah. 'Abstergo lab deemed unsafe after fiery explosion,'" she quoted from the headlines.
"Yeah, that also happened sometime this morning."
"You want us to have a look?" Shaun asked.
"Oh, it's probably nothing," Gavin said, backtracking slightly. "Probably related to all the seismic activity. Don't worry about it."
Shaun and Rebecca exchanged skeptical glances.
"It's nothing," he insisted. "Just a small explosion."
"Small explosion?" Shaun said incredulously. "Gavin, this says half the building is gone."
He let out an exasperated sigh. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Probably just some chemicals or something blowing up after all the seismic activity. We've got bigger fish to fry right now."
"That seems a little too coincidental," Shaun said pointedly. Rebecca gave him a meaningful look and pointed to her screen. He nodded.
"Like I said, probably just related to the earthquake that happened there."
"Right…"
"You sure you don't want us to check it out?" Rebecca asked.
"No, I'll send someone else."
"Are you sure? Bex and I don't mind looking into it," Shaun pressed. "Not like we can do much here now—"
"No," Gavin snapped. "I have it under control."
Shaun raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They exchanged dubious glances around the table.
"By the way, I heard a body was stolen from their Montreal location—" Gavin continued, a slight animosity in his voice.
All three of them tensed. Had word of his resurrection spread already?
"John Standish? The Sage? You two know anything about that?"
While Desmond relaxed, Rebecca looked confused and Shaun seemed troubled by this news.
"Nope," Shaun said, shaking his head and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Hm. Well, why don't you two look into that and keep me posted."
"Of course," Shaun said, hardly concealing his resentment. "Let us know what turns up in Paris."
"Of course," he echoed, the same annoyed attitude in his voice as well.
"Anything else we should know before we hang up?"
There was another long pause. Desmond couldn't see Gavin on the other side of the screen, but whatever he did made Shaun that much more suspicious, his eyes narrowing even further as he stared at the screen.
"Nope. That's everything. Good luck," Gavin said quickly.
"Yeah, you too."
With a small click, Shaun ended the call.
"What was that all about?" Rebecca asked.
"Yeah, what's going on?"
"Look, I like Gavin. He's a good man, a good Assassin, and a decent Mentor, when he's not being a prick. But something about that call just… it made me feel uneasy. I know we tend to live in the shadows and secrets are part of the job description. 'Work in the dark to serve the light' and all that. But he was keeping something from us and, I don't know, I didn't like the feeling I got."
"Since when do you care about feelings?" Desmond said, half-jokingly.
"It's not just feelings, Des. When I probed him for more information he clammed up and changed the subject."
"He said he didn't know anything."
"Bollocks. He knows something and he's not telling us. I may not have Eagle Vision or Eagle Sense or any of those fancy senses you have, but I still have intuition and something just feels off."
Desmond and Rebecca both looked at Shaun dubiously.
"Full disclosure, I knew about the missing body."
"And you claim Gavin's hiding things…"
"Because if Gavin's playing keepaway with information, then so are we. I only found out about it this morning, and I didn't know that it was John's body. While I was making our coffee, some woman started screaming into the phone about it, though she never mentioned whose body it was. And considering everything that's happened today, I think I'm entitled to forget one thing or another." He took a deep breath and began speaking in a low tone, as if Gavin could still hear them. "The other day I saw an anonymous report suggesting a Shroud of Eden was stolen from the Templars in Paris. It was mostly unsubstantiated and I figured it was a fake Templar leak. A misdirection so we'd look for the Shroud elsewhere. After all, who else would be looking for the Pieces? But now one of Abstergo's facilities is blown up in the same city where the Shroud was supposedly stolen from them?"
"You think these are both connected?"
"I don't believe in coincidences like these. And to top it all off, Paris also had an earthquake this morning."
"Ok, and? They were all over the place."
"Well for one, all of the major earthquakes occurred in or around places Desmond was shortly before he died—save for this one. Two, Paris doesn't get earthquakes, certainly nothing on the scale of the ones today. And suddenly they experience one of their largest earthquakes ever on record in the same week as all this goes on? And three, and perhaps most importantly, everything in Paris—the explosion, the earthquake—happened before the one here, and from what I can gather, it's the only one."
"So what does that have to do with Gavin keeping secrets?"
"He doesn't know that I know about the Shroud, so I tried to get him to mention it on his own. Did you see how nervous he started to look when I asked him if there was anything else we should know?"
"I guess, but it's Gavin. It's his job to keep secrets."
"It was more than that, Bex. I'd bet money that he knows a lot more than he's letting on."
"So do we," Rebecca said, gesturing to Desmond. "I noticed you didn't share this particular secret with him."
"Bill should be the first to know."
"I know, but I'm just pointing out the hypocrisy. Maybe Gavin has a reason for not telling us."
"What, that we're not high enough in the pecking order? Please."
"I'm just saying he probably has a reason."
"And we have a reason to keep Des a secret. At least for now."
"And what reason is that exactly? Other than finders-keepers?"
"Rebecca, what do you think would happen if word got out that Desmond was back? Specifically, what do you think the Templars would do? You think they're just going to let it go? That Des here will be free to do whatever he wants? No, they'd pull all of their resources into finding him and we'd get nothing done because we'd be even more hunted than we were before. The fewer people who know, the better. There's less risk of something leaking."
She sighed and nodded.
"So I guess that means we're going to Paris," Desmond said, more of a statement than a question.
"I guess so. And I'm not complaining. After today I think we should put as much distance between us and Montreal as possible. That is, unless you want to relax somewhere for a bit? Maybe get your bearings before diving headfirst into all this nonsense again. Bex and I could probably handle it on our own for a bit."
"No, no, I'm good," he said, perhaps a little too eagerly. Shaun's eyes narrowed and he gave Desmond the same scrutinizing look that he'd given Gavin.
"Are you sure? Nobody would blame you for wanting to take some time—"
"I'm good," he repeated. "Really, I'm fine. Though now I'm starting to wonder what you did with the real Shaun Hastings. The one I knew would never suggest taking time off."
"Yeah, well, life's too short to not take a vacation every once in a while. If anyone deserves a break, it's you."
He gave Shaun a confused smile. "Thanks, I guess."
"What? I can't say nice things every now and again?"
"You used to yell at me for taking a coffee break and now you're suggesting I take a whole vacation. I figured you'd say the last year was enough of a break."
"Yeah, well, people change, Desmond. That's life," Shaun said, sitting back in his chair. "It's up to you. If you think you're up to it, we'd be ecstatic to have you back on the team again. If not, no worries. We can either let Gavin—"
"No, no. I'm good to go. Promise."
Shaun raised an eyebrow and looked at Rebecca, who just shrugged. "Alright, then. I'll make some calls."
A half hour later, they were booked for a redeye flight to Paris.
"It won't be glamorous," Shaun said. "We'll be stowing away aboard a cargo plane, but this close to Christmas I'm surprised we got anything. I had to cash in a favor from a friend."
"Since when do we do anything glamorous?" Desmond joked. "We hid out in a cave for two months."
"Hey now, we've been living quite lavishly the past six months, comparatively speaking."
"It has been nice having a toilet and a shower," Rebecca added. "And separate rooms for when Shaun gets on my nerves."
Shaun shrugged and ignored her. "We need to leave by five if we're going to make the flight. Bex, you and I need to finish packing. Des, you're welcome to hang around here, watch the telly, eat another four meals worth of sandwiches, whatever you desire. Mi casa es su casa."
"It's our house."
"Right, but the phrase isn't 'nuestra casa es su casa.'"
"Whatever." Rebecca rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bedroom while Shaun followed close behind.
Desmond waited patiently in the living room while Shaun and Rebecca packed their things, whispering between each other as they did so. He pretended not to hear them while he watched the newscasters talk in circles about how nobody knew what the hell was going on around the globe. Growing bored, he closed his eyes and had almost dozed off when the dryer loudly buzzed that its cycle was complete. He jumped up from the sofa and pulled his laundry out, surprised at how well the bloodstains had come out.
He changed into his old clothes, still hot, and folded the borrowed ones and set them on the back of the sofa. He shrugged on his old jacket, too, but the right sleeve was singed and frayed beyond repair and had started disintegrating in the washer and dryer. He thought about trying to find some way to repair it, but the damage was extensive and most of the bottom of the sleeve was gone entirely. He'd just have to replace the jacket. Shame, he was rather fond of that one. He tossed it in the trash and sat back on the sofa and continued waiting for the others to finish packing.
It was dark by the time they left for the airport, the sun having set almost an hour earlier. While Shaun drove them into the city, Rebecca continued investigating the earlier global phenomena on her tablet, sharing with them anything new that she found. So far, it wasn't much. Scientists were still stumped by the sources of the earthquakes and geologists and seismologists alike continued to insist that there was nothing that indicated this would happen.
A twinge of guilt hit Desmond when she mentioned the known death toll was well into the hundreds now, and possibly thousands once everyone was accounted for. He couldn't help but feel some level of responsibility for it despite their insistence that it wasn't his fault. After a while, Rebecca stopped reporting the deaths and injuries to the rest of the car, instead focusing her efforts on finding out the hows and whys of everything that happened that morning.
After a long hour in the car they finally reached the airport, much to Desmond's relief. He hoped that, once on the plane, he could sleep the entire way to Paris.
"How's the jacket?" Rebecca asked as they stepped out of the car. Before they'd left, she'd pulled an old boyfriend's black leather motorcycle jacket from the depths of her closet for him to try.
"It's f—"
"If you say 'fine' one more time…" Shaun threatened, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.
Desmond smirked. "It fits fantastically. Thanks for letting me borrow it."
"Don't mention it. It's yours now. I feel bad since, you know, our washing machine kind of ate your old one."
"I wasn't too attached to it anymore. Besides, I think black suits me better now. You know, with the whole 'death' thing."
He and Rebecca grabbed their bags and fell in step behind Shaun as he led them to an airplane sitting at the far end of the tarmac.
"Maybe keep the topic of your death quiet," Shaun suggested. "We don't need to start any rumors. And we should probably come up with a new name for Des."
"What? Why?"
"Jim has definitely heard your name before and we're trying to keep you a secret."
"Okay so then what's my new name?"
Shaun rolled his eyes. "I don't know, just use your middle name or something. He probably doesn't know that."
"I don't have a middle name."
"You don't… of course you don't have a middle name. Fine, just use Danny or something."
"Isn't that your middle name?"
"No, my middle name is Daniel. There's a big difference."
"Right…"
"When we met, he told me the 'D' stood for 'Danger.'"
Desmond snorted. "Shaun 'Danger' Hastings?"
"What? Daniel. Danger. They're close! And I was trying to impress her, okay?" His face flushed deep red.
"You can imagine how impressed I was when he told me this as he was tied up in the back of an Abstergo van."
Desmond tried and failed to suppress his laughter.
As they neared the plane, a tall, burly man with a thick, walrus mustache stepped out from the airplane door and down the stairs to greet them.
"Shaun! Rebecca!" The man boomed, holding his arms open wide. "Long time no see! Where've you two been this past year?"
"Oh you know, doing Assassin stuff. Causing trouble for the Templars. The usual."
Shaun and Rebecca struggled to remain upright when he clapped a meaty hand on their shoulders.
"Not enough of that going on these days!"
"There never is. Jim, this is Danny," Shaun said, massaging his shoulder. "No worries, he's one of us."
"Ah I thought I smelled someone green. Welcome!" Now it was Desmond's turn for a hearty smack on his upper back, nearly sending him face-first into the ground.
"Jim here is our pilot tonight. Managed to catch him on his last cargo haul of the year."
"Yep. Making one last flight to Berlin with a quick pit stop in Paris and then it's home for the holidays. Well, we'd best get going," he said, leading them up the stairs. Inside the plane, Jim directed them towards a small cabin just behind the cockpit. "Make yourselves comfortable. It's about a seven hour flight, give or take. Should land right around 8:30 in the morning local time. Say, I wanted to ask on the phone and forgot, but have any of you seen Bill lately? I haven't heard from him in a while and wanted to make sure he was okay after what happened with his kid."
"No, we haven't," Shaun answered, almost a little too quickly. "We've actually been trying to reach him lately, too."
"Shame. I don't blame him for leaving after what happened. Terrible thing, losing a son. You both knew him too, right?"
Desmond glanced between Shaun and Rebecca, both of whom refused to meet his gaze.
"Yeah, we did," Rebecca said.
"Sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Shaun and Rebecca said in unison.
Desmond remained quiet the whole time, trying to look vaguely confused while playing his role of the ignorant new recruit.
Jim disappeared into the cockpit and shut the door, leaving the three Assassins alone to stow their gear and find their seats.
"Well that was close," Shaun said as they made their way to the cabin.
"So how does Jim know my father?" Desmond asked as he stowed his bag away and buckled into one of the four seats on the far side of the plane.
Rebecca and Shaun tucked their bags beneath their seats and sat down with him.
"Oh Jim and your father go way back," Shaun explained. "Bill helped him get out of a tight jam during a mixup with Customs one time. Ever since then, he's been a great asset to call on whenever we need to hitch a ride. Jim was actually the one who flew your dad to Cairo last November."
"Huh. He never mentioned him."
"He's not officially one of us, so I think Bill likes to keep him a bit of a secret, even from the rest of the Brotherhood. Keeps him safer that way."
"We hit him up for flights a couple times earlier this year but it's been a while," Rebecca added.
Desmond hummed in acknowledgement and looked out the window over the tarmac as Jim brought the plane around. The engines outside roared as they hurtled down the runway and a few seconds later, they were airborne and on their way to Paris.
Rebecca put her headphones on and fell asleep before they even broke through the cloud cover. Her head rested on Desmond's shoulder with her mouth slightly agape.
"Sure you don't want to switch seats?" Shaun asked.
"No, I don't mind. She's had a long day."
Shaun chuckled. "Haven't we all? Somehow this day felt like an entire week already."
Desmond nodded and looked out the window. He half expected Shaun to fall asleep quickly too, but when he looked over a few minutes later, Shaun had his laptop open and was hard at work.
"So," Desmond started, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What else have you two been up to this past year?"
Shaun looked up and studied him for a moment. "Not much, admittedly. Or at least, it doesn't seem like much compared to today. After the Temple, we went underground with your dad for a while. That was… well, that was quite depressing if I'm being completely honest. Three downers all holed up together. You can imagine how lively those Saturday nights were. Anyways, eventually Bill left the Brotherhood and Gavin took over as Mentor and then—"
Desmond shook his head. "Wait, my dad quit? Why?"
"Are you serious? Because you were gone."
He sat in shocked silence for a moment. William Miles, Mentor of the entire Assassin Order and who'd always put the Brotherhood above everything else, even his own family? William Miles, who'd spent more of Desmond's childhood training him and others to fight in a never ending war with the Templars than he did being an actual father to his only son? William Miles, whose commitment to the Assassins only multiplied tenfold after that only son ran away? That same William Miles… quit? And because he, Desmond, died?
"But… why?"
Shaun sighed impatiently. "Because believe it or not your father does have a heart somewhere beneath that icy exterior. He doesn't want a lot of people to know, but he does. And I can't imagine losing a child would be easy for anybody, and certainly not an only child. He wasn't joking when he said that everything he'd done was for you." He paused, typing some more on his laptop. "Besides, I also distinctly remember you two reuniting after your adventures in Rome so it wasn't like you were still on the outs," he added, almost as an afterthought.
Desmond looked out the dark window and mulled over it all. They had made up by the end, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever think his decision would be enough to push the great William Miles out of the Assassin Brotherhood.
When he didn't respond, Shaun continued. "He tried to stick it out, for all of us, but he couldn't. I don't blame him." He paused. "I thought about leaving, too. Those first six months after you were gone, I don't know, everything just felt kind of pointless. But Rebecca convinced me to stay on." He glanced at her, still sleeping against Desmond's shoulder, and gave her an appreciative smile.
"She never wanted to quit?"
"I think the thought crossed her mind once or twice, but she reminded me that it wasn't what you'd want. Not to mention we really couldn't afford to lose anyone else. And then we heard that Abstergo was up to no good—as usual—and decided to check it out ourselves."
"What were they doing?"
"Well we'd heard rumors of a new Sample 17 project they were heading up at their new Montreal location. Obviously it didn't take a genius to figure it out, so we went undercover to try and get some answers. We had to trek our way across America to get there since Jim was busy and your father was unreachable. Ended up stopping at The Farm, too, or what was left of it. Abstergo really did a number on it when they raided the place."
A knot formed in Desmond's stomach. He'd always felt a twinge of guilt ever since finding out.
"Sorry, mate. I figured you knew."
"Vidic told me. I just wonder what might've happened if I'd never run away." Desmond sighed. "So what happened next? Did you get your answers?"
"Some of them. At least as of this morning we got one of our biggest answers." Shaun tilted his head in Desmond's direction. "This is a far better outcome than I think anyone could ever expect. Well, for us anyway. I can't imagine the Templars are too pleased right now, having lost their most prized possession."
"It's always a good day when we get to fuck them over, isn't it?" Desmond smirked.
"That's what I told Rebecca this morning, but she said I was being antagonistic."
"You? Antagonistic? Never."
They both chuckled quietly, then Shaun went back to whatever he'd been working on while Desmond stared out the window. By now they were well over the clouds and the lights of the city had long vanished, only to be replaced by the light of the nearly full moon high in the sky above them. As he looked out at the vast expanse below, he thought about his father once more, wondering where in the world he was.
"So have you heard from my dad recently?" he asked.
Shaun sighed. "No, and he still hasn't gotten back to us today, either. He's been nearly impossible to get a hold of since going off the grid, even after coming back into the fold."
"I thought you said Gavin was the Mentor now?"
"Oh he is. Your dad is back to his Assassin ways, but he hasn't taken the Mentor title back yet, and I don't think he wants to."
"But you don't trust Gavin?"
"Yes and no," Shaun said, tilting his head side-to-side. "I trust Gavin as much as I trust anyone else in the Brotherhood and normally I'd have no problem telling him what happened today. But something about him just felt off earlier, Des. I can't put my finger on it but I know he's hiding something, and Gavin doesn't normally hide things from us. Besides, I figured your father should be the first to know. Apart from us of course."
"Makes sense. I think he'd appreciate that." Desmond let out a large yawn. "I think Rebecca has the right idea."
"What, your eternal rest wasn't long enough for you?" Shaun closed his laptop and stowed it in his bag before leaning back in his seat, ready to fall asleep himself.
"Not really eternal, though. And it's been a long day today."
"Touché. I suppose we'll probably have a long day tomorrow as well."
"Mhm," Desmond agreed sleepily, carefully adjusting himself in his seat to get comfortable without disturbing Rebecca. He tilted his seat back and leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes.
He tried to fall asleep immediately, but Shaun's snores rivaled the roar of the engines outside and his mind raced with a never-ending stream of worries and fears. What had Shaun said in the car earlier that morning? "It's entirely unnatural…" For once, he agreed with him completely. Whatever happened, it wasn't natural. And when was he ever gifted anything that he didn't somehow have to pay for later?
His mind cycled through these thoughts for what felt like hours until eventually exhaustion finally overwhelmed him and he fell into a restless sleep.
A/N: Phew! They finally got to catch a bit of a break! Though I have a feeling it won't last for very long... ;)