Every historian's wet dream.

By the time Desmond rejoined Altaïr in the training yard, the few remaining mercenaries were either dead or being rounded up for interrogation and the Assassins still left standing that had been tasked with separating out the bodies worked tirelessly to do so, laying out their fallen brethren with great care.

Desmond tensed when a hand, attached to what he thought was a dead mercenary, reached up and clutched his ankle. Blood covered almost every inch of the man's face and chest, only one eye able to open ever so slightly. When he opened his mouth, more blood gurgled out and down the side of his cheek. Desmond tried to wrench his leg away but the mercenary held on tight, and it wasn't until Altaïr drove his sword through his chest that the mercenary's grip slackened enough for him to pull away. Altaïr pulled his sword out and the man gave a final, choked whimper as he died.

Desmond sighed. There was a time this would've found all this disturbing, but that time was long past now. He'd grown jaded during his time in the Animus, the gruesome and macabre no longer affecting him the way it once had. Horror had turned to indifference.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do to you what I just did to him," Altaïr growled.

"Because if I hadn't come along when I did, you would be like him. You're welcome for that, by the way." Standing face-to-face, Desmond just realized how short Altaïr really was. He had a good two or three inches on the Master Assassin, though it certainly hadn't seemed like it when he was at Altaïr's mercy down in the dungeons. But it did explain how Altaïr was exceptionally agile and nigh uncatchable, even by Assassin standards. Desmond just hadn't realized that his smaller stature likely played a large part in that.

For a moment, he worried that perhaps he hadn't earned the Assassin's goodwill by saving him, those piercing amber eyes still staring through his soul, until Altaïr finally relaxed and sheathed his sword.

With a smile he said, "You have my thanks." He turned to a small platoon of Assassins patiently waiting for his orders. "I want any remaining intruders brought to the dungeons immediately."

The Assassins bowed their heads, murmuring their assurances that it would be done, and began dragging the few mercenaries that were still alive back inside the castle in chains.

"So much death, and for what? What did they hope to accomplish here?" Altaïr muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he looked around at all the bodies on the ground. He shook his head, remembering Desmond was still at his side. "I need to attend to things here and get some information."

"Do you want my help?" Desmond offered.

"No, no. I—"

"Altaïr! You're alive!" An Assassin Desmond vaguely recognized came bounding up to them. Taller than each of them, the distressed frown behind his thick beard quickly turned into a relieved smile upon seeing the Mentor.

"Praise Allah! When the gate closed we were unable to find a way inside until the fighting subsided. When I saw that group attack you all at once, I worried."

"Rauf, I'm alright thanks to Desmond, here."

Rauf bowed deeply to Desmond, then—noticing the blood still slowly spreading across Altaïr's robes—pointed and said, "You should get a doctor to look at that."

"It's nothing that can't wait. There are others that need their attention far more than I. Could I ask a favor of you, though? Or rather, multiple favors."

"Of course, my friend. Anything."

"Take Desmond down to the dungeons to fetch his companions. I have no doubt they, too, made miraculous escapes. Then take them all to the guest quarters just down the hall from mine. When you've done that, fetch them some fresh clothing and water and some bandages from the infirmary. After that, you're dismissed for the day. Take some rest. We all need it."

"Would you like me to stay with them?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll come get them as soon as I'm through here."

Rauf bowed his head once more. "Of course, Mentor. It shall be done." Rauf gestured for Desmond to follow him.

"Can you speak?" Desmond heard Altaïr ask behind him. He turned to see Altaïr standing over another one of the mercenaries, blood pouring from a gaping chest wound. The man tried to answer and a spurt of blood sprayed the front of both his and Altaïr's tunics. Altaïr sighed, then drove his sword into the man's neck.

Desmond and Rauf found Shaun, Rebecca, and Lucy huddled in a dark corner near the end of the dungeon corridor.

"Thank god you're alright," Shaun said, breathing a sigh of relief as they came into view.

"Shaun has been panicking since you left," Rebecca informed him, though she, too, looked relieved to see him. Even Lucy looked mildly pleased he'd returned. Or at least, she didn't look pissed about it.

"I have not."

"Yes, you have," Lucy cut in.

"They're misquoting me again, Des. You know how they are."

Desmond gestured for them to follow. "Come on, guys. Rauf is going to show us where we're staying tonight."

"Wait, what?" Shaun hissed as Rauf led them back up the way they came. "We're staying?"

"Well yeah, Shaun. Where else do you expect us to go? It's not like we know how to get back."

"I know that, I just…"

"Just what?"

Shaun side-eyed Rauf. "Nevermind," he muttered.

The halls were mostly empty as Rauf led them through the castle to their chambers. Every so often they'd pass by another Assassin looking worn and weary after the day's events and while a few of them gave them (and their clothes) strange looks, most barely gave them a second thought and simply continued on to wherever they were heading. The rest of the Assassins, Desmond assumed, were still taking care of the dead and wounded outside.

The halls themselves were almost completely barren, only decorated with the occasional banner or engraved stone bearing the Brotherhood's insignia. The lack of ostentatiousness was fitting for the Masyaf Assassins, who prided themselves on duty above any material goods. And yet, what the castle lacked in adornments, it made up for in grandeur elsewhere. Broad, sweeping staircases led them higher and higher, while vaulted ceilings reverberated each step they took several times over. The wooden candelabras hanging over their heads illuminated the hallways when the bright afternoon sunlight from outside could not.

They had to be nearing the top of the castle as they climbed staircase after staircase, huffing and puffing and trying desperately to catch their breaths as Rauf took them even higher. Their frequent pauses to let Rebecca rest her injured ankle only prolonged their ascent and just when they thought there was no more castle to climb, Rauf stopped them outside one of the doors.

"Your quarters during your stay here in Masyaf," he said, opening the door and gesturing to enter while stepping aside with a slight bow.

For as modest and simple as the rest of the castle had been, this room was the exact opposite. Large brightly-colored woven tapestries adorning nearly every inch of wall space were illuminated by the sunlight streaming in from several large windows across the room. An enormous hearth took up most of the wall to the right of the door, framed by an ornate white marble mantle and accompanied by two large wingback chairs. As Desmond and the others entered the room further, Rauf immediately began lighting a fire. A large round wooden table with half a dozen chairs sat in the middle of the room and after such a long climb, it was a wonder Desmond hadn't collapsed into one of them already.

"I shall let you get settled," Rauf said, a small fire now crackling in the hearth behind him. "I will return shortly." He bowed deeply then shut the door and left.

"This is cool looking," Rebecca said, picking up an ornate pot sitting on the floor.

"Bex, put the chamber pot down," Shaun sighed. "Also, am I hallucinating or can we understand people now?"

Desmond shook his head. "No, you're not hallucinating."

"Does anybody know what just happened?" Lucy asked.

"Well it appears that somehow we were whisked away from Rome, traveled at or near the speed of light for an indeterminable length of time over some indeterminable distance through some sort of wormhole and… yeah I have no idea."

Putting the pot on the floor, Rebecca said, "I didn't even think time travel was possible."

"I don't question the possibility of things like this anymore. I mean, apparently people—" he gestured to Lucy and Desmond— "can come back from the dead now, too."

"You sound so pessimistic, Shaun. I thought you of all people would be ecstatic to time travel. You get to actually experience history rather than just reading about it. Isn't this every historian's wet dream?" Desmond asked, dropping his new bow and sword on the table and slumping down heavily in one of the chairs.

"Studying history is very different from living it, Desmond, and unless this is some mass hallucination—and frankly I bloody hope it is—we're now stuck… in the Middle Ages… with your murder-happy ancestor… and no way back home. And if you knew as much about history as I do, you'd be more than a little wary of all this yourself."

"Lighten up, Shaun. What's the worst that could happen?"

Shaun pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, having you and Lucy back is nothing short of a miracle and for that I'm glad. But I'm also not naive enough to think that all of this comes without a price. We're toeing a very dangerous line here and we can't forget what's at stake should we screw something up. At best, we manage to avoid any major historical shifts and the future remains, for the most part, intact. But if we're not careful, we could create some sort of paradox and cause the entire fabric of reality to come undone and we'd have only ourselves to blame. And that's not even including all the things that could happen to us while we're here, disease and death being among the most likely."

"Well as long as nobody knows we're from the future we should be fine, right?" Lucy asked, sitting in a chair opposite Desmond, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a sudden interest in the craftsmanship of his bow.

"In theory, maybe. But—" Shaun glanced over— "Damnit, Desmond! You told Altaïr, didn't you?"

"No! I mean… not yet. I was going to but then we were interrupted."

Shaun threw his head back and groaned in frustration.

"What was I supposed to do!?"

"Keep your damn mouth shut, that's what!"

"And then what? He kills me, kills all of us?"

"You don't know he would've killed you."

Desmond scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Okay he probably would have," Shaun conceded. "But you could've come up with something, anything, other than the truth."

"I'm a shit liar. He would've known in a second and had all the more reason to kill me."

"You fooled me," Rebecca chimed in quietly. She sat apart from everyone else, leaning heavily against the back of her chair with her arms crossed. Her face was set in a deep frown and she struggled to meet Desmond's eyes.

"What?" He looked at her, completely dumbfounded.

"You lied to us. Lied right to our faces." She paused, waiting for him to figure it out. When he didn't, she continued. "Were you ever going to tell us that you remembered?"

He closed his eyes and hung his head. "Rebecca, I—" He massaged his temples and took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I just… when you asked me the other day…" He took another deep breath and sat back in the chair. When he opened his eyes again, the other three were staring at him, listening with rapt attention.

"I didn't lie. At least not the way you think. Back in the car, when you first asked me what I remembered, I didn't lie when I told you that I only remembered using the key to go through the door. To you, it'd been a year since I died. To me, I don't even think it'd been an hour. Everything was still so fuzzy or just not even there. And the parts I did remember, well… I just wasn't ready to go into all of that."

Shaun and Lucy both stared at him with stony expressions. Rebecca nodded in understanding, her expression shifting from betrayal to pity as he continued.

"To be honest, I didn't want to remember any more, and I figured talking about it would only bring the memories back that much faster." His hand instinctively started rubbing his scarred arm once more as he felt that familiar warm tingling just below the surface.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca said. "I didn't think of it like that."

"Maybe I should've mentioned that things were coming back to me the past few days, but with everything that was going on, I guess it just didn't seem as important. But considering what's happened now, I think everyone deserves the truth." He looked pointedly at Lucy. "All of it."

He took another deep breath as he dove back into his own memories. "I guess I should start in Juno's Temple. You two probably don't remember—" he looked at Shaun and Rebecca— "but, Lucy, you still might. In the Apple Chamber, I asked if any of you had heard a voice talking."

Shaun and Rebecca shrugged and shook their heads while Lucy's brows furrowed and she nodded. "Vaguely."

"It was Juno. She'd been talking to me off and on the whole time we were there, rambling and complaining about the human race and how we were a plague on the world—"

"Can't say I entirely disagree…"

Desmond shot Shaun a dark look. "—but that she still needed us. At the time I thought maybe it was part of the Bleeding Effect or a hallucination or something. Or a hologram like when Minerva talked to Ezio. But now I'm not so sure and I wonder if she was actually there.

He looked down at his scarred hand, heat radiating from his skin. "When I touched the Apple, she took control somehow. Showed me things, visions of the future. She's the one who showed me what would happen if I let you live, Luce. That you'd take the Apple back to Abstergo and the Templars."

She hesitantly met his gaze. It was hard to read her expression, but he thought he saw a twinge of guilt hidden behind the anger and betrayal. "And you believed her?" she asked quietly.

"At the time, yeah. She could see the future, show us the future. I guess I didn't have a reason to think she'd lie about anything. I thought she wanted to help, like Minerva."

Lucy pulled her gaze away from Desmond and stared at her hands in her lap as she nervously picked at her nails. "Juno wasn't entirely wrong," she murmured. "I had planned to take the Apple back to Abstergo. Or at least, that's what Vidic and I had planned, as you apparently know all about. I made a different call, though."

Desmond leaned forward in his chair slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm guessing you never got stopped by any Abstergo agents on your way out of the Colosseum?" She raised an eyebrow and a small flicker of a smug grin crossed her face.

Desmond looked to Shaun and Rebecca who both shook their heads.

"You should be thanking me for that. I was supposed to call Vidic as soon as Desmond located the Apple inside Ezio's memories so they could have a team ready and waiting. Like I told him at Abstergo, Desmond was probably the key to getting in, so they couldn't move in until after he'd gotten it."

Shaun crossed his arms. "I fail to see why we should be thanking you."

"Because I never made the call. I thought about it, sure. But I never told Vidic that we'd found the Apple. Never let him know where we were going."

"So, you weren't going to sell us out?" Rebecca asked sharply. "Or were you just waiting for a better moment to stab us all in the back?"

Lucy paused. "I… I don't know," she finally admitted. "I was lost. I was confused. It was so easy to know who the good guys were when the Assassins had left me behind and Abstergo had taken me in, at least from my perspective. But when I came back into the fold I guess I started questioning everything again. Even Warren started having some reservations about my commitment. I guess he was right to. I… I don't know what I would've done. I really don't."

There was a collective sigh around the room as she hung her head, quickly becoming distracted by one particular spot on the table and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Desmond, Shaun, and Rebecca looked at each other wistfully but said nothing for a long minute.

Desmond sighed. "I wish things had ended differently, Luce."

"Yeah, me too," she murmured into her lap. "So… then what happened?"

With help from Shaun and Rebecca, he recounted his experience in the coma and told her about finding the location of the Grand Temple through a few of Ezio's restored memories. He explained how he was placed back in the Animus, and while he could hear what was going on outside, he was helpless to communicate with anyone.

He paused for a moment, then looked between Shaun and Rebecca as he deliberated leaving Clay out of his story, but a promise was a promise. And so he told Lucy—much to her horror and surprise—what Clay had done to preserve himself, leaving a part of his consciousness inside the Animus in the hope he could be revived one day. With his guidance, Desmond was able to find a synch nexus, a point in which he, Altaïr, and Ezio would all be present, and the point at which his own consciousness could be restored.

Shaun and Rebecca then took turns explaining everything going on outside the Animus: Bill's arrival to Rome, his insistence on keeping a comatose Desmond in the Animus while they traveled to upstate New York, and Lucy's funeral.

"For what it's worth, it was a lovely service, all things considered."

Lucy scowled at Shaun but said nothing.

"Anyways, Desmond woke up right when we got to the Grand Temple," Rebecca explained. "We—well, Desmond—used the Apple to open the front door. Turns out Juno was in there, just waiting for us, though we didn't know it at the time. We all thought she was a hologram like Minerva or Jupiter had been."

"Until things started getting weird," Shaun pointed out.

"Weird?" Lucy asked.

"She'd follow us around the Temple, as though she didn't want us poking around anywhere we shouldn't be. And sometimes she reacted to things we said. Like if I insulted her, she'd give me a nasty look."

"And don't forget the emails."

"Oh god, the emails. She somehow managed to hack into our network and send us these bonkers emails that sounded more and more like a deranged doomsdayer cultist having a psychotic break, talking all this nonsense about how if Desmond didn't do what she wanted him to do then we'd all be doomed. Though I guess she wasn't that bonkers considering she was right about it all. But she did tell me to stop meddling in Desmond's affairs. You know mate, thinking back on it, I think she was jealous of us and our budding bromance."

"I'm sure that was it," Desmond said, a slight grin forming at the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, like Shaun said, doomsdayer type shit. But the closer we got, the more, I don't know, desperate she seemed to get? Like if we didn't figure it out then not only were we screwed, but so was she."

"And as we—well, Desmond—discovered, she would've been. Turns out she'd stored her consciousness in the Temple somehow, awaiting the day someone, like Desmond here, would come along and set her loose."

"She messed with the Eye, the mechanism that the Isu had developed to ward off the solar flare, so that when I set it off, she would be released, and whoever activated it would be killed. Lucky me."

There was a brief pause, then Shaun asked quietly, "If you don't mind me asking, what really happened there at the end? We couldn't hear Minerva or Juno, only see them talking to you. Next thing we know, you're telling us to leave and, well, yeah…"

Desmond took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he began to speak. "They… showed me the end of the world. Showed me what would happen if I didn't go through with it. The sun would burn the world and everything would start over again: people, technology, civilization. Just like last time. Or… I touch the Eye and stop all of that. The world would spin on like always. Only now, Juno would be in it. Obviously you know which one I chose."

Rebecca's voice cracked as she whispered, "They looked like they were arguing at the end…"

Desmond let out a sharp, hollow laugh. "They were. Minerva didn't want me to go through with it. No, not for the reasons you think," he added quickly. "It wasn't that she wanted us gone, she just wanted Juno gone more. She thought that, if I let the sun do its thing, Juno would finally be dead for good, and she wouldn't be able to do… whatever she plans to do." He paused for a moment, thinking back on the choice he'd been forced to make. "It was Minerva who told me that I would die. Confirmed it, I guess. I'd had a hunch for a while that some sort of sacrifice would have to be made. Well, you two know." He pointed to Shaun and Rebecca. "I assume you heard the voice messages I left."

"We didn't, actually. Once we realized those were for your dad, we just passed them on," she clarified.

"Oh. Well either way, Minerva let me know at the very end that it would kill me."

"I doubt Juno would've wanted to tell you anything that might potentially change your mind," Shaun commented.

Desmond rubbed his arm more fervently now. "Yeah, she definitely left out a few key details. Or lied about them completely."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rebecca asked quietly.

"If I'd have told you my suspicions, or told you what Minerva told me, would you have let me do it?"

Shaun and Rebecca both looked away.

"I still wish you would've said something," she said with a sniffle, wiping away a stray tear that had trickled down her cheek.

"By the time I knew, there wasn't time to say anything."

"You said… you said that you remember it?" she asked.

"Rebecca," Shaun warned in the same tone as he had back in the car on their way to the cabin.

Desmond held up his hand. "It's fine, Shaun. I promised the whole truth." He took another deep breath and cradled his scarred arm in his lap as he sat back in the chair again.

"Yeah, I remember it," he admitted, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders. "It was… it felt like the energy from the Apple, but a hundred—no, a thousand times worse. Think a small static shock versus being struck by lightning. Only that lightning feels like a fire that's boiling you from the inside out with no way to stop it. I tried to pull away after a while but I just… couldn't. There seemed to be something, some force, keeping my hand on the Eye."

"God, that's… horrific," Shaun finally settled.

"How long… ?" Rebecca asked, eyeing his arm that was quickly getting red from how much he'd been rubbing it.

"A few seconds? A minute? Maybe an hour? I honestly don't know. It was like time just stopped forever until I vaguely remember falling backwards, and then… nothing. Next thing I knew I was waking up naked in Abstergo's basement. You can imagine how confused I was."

Rebecca gave him a small, halfhearted smile as they both remembered his rather eccentric return. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For leaving you behind. It was a shit thing for us to do, especially after everything you went through for us."

Desmond laughed dryly. "I don't blame you at all. I'm the one who told you to get away. And like I said before, I didn't know. I was dead."

"So." Shaun clapped his hands together. "Doesn't everybody feel better now? Airing out our grievances and getting the answers we all so desperately desired?"

Rebecca and Desmond just shook their heads exasperatedly.

"I don't know about 'better' but—" Lucy started, a knock at the door interrupting her.

"Come in!" Rebecca called.

Rauf entered the room carrying a stack of clothes and sandals with one arm and a pail of water with the other. As he entered, the smell of something delicious wafted in with him and Desmond's stomach growled at the thought of food.

"Here you are," Rauf said, dropping everything on the table with a huff and handing a roll of bandages to Rebecca. "Altaïr said he would be up here shortly to escort you to dinner. Can I get you anything else in the meantime?"

They looked between each other and shrugged.

"I think we're fine for now. Thanks, Rauf," Desmond said.

Rauf smiled and bowed himself out of the room.

"New clothes?" Shaun asked, picking up something from the top of the pile.

"Probably so we don't stand out so much. We're not exactly inconspicuous," Lucy pointed out.

"True."

They divided up the outfits—a tunic, shirt, and pair of pants for each of them—and went to separate corners of their chambers to change. When Desmond reappeared from the bedroom and put his hidden blade onto the table, Shaun was busy helping Rebecca wrap her sprained ankle.

"Guess we should get rid of all our electronics," Rebecca said glumly, tossing her watch onto her pile of clothes. "Looks like they all got fried going through the wormhole anyways."

"Good call, Bex," Shaun said, tying off the last part of the bandage.

One by one they all tossed any modern-looking items into a pile on the table.

"No cell phone?" he asked Rebecca.

She shrugged. "I think I dropped it as we went through the portal."

"Or it fell in the garden outside. Let's just hope someone doesn't find it and unravel the fabric of time."

"Quit being so melodramatic, Shaun" Lucy grumbled. "You really think that's going to happen?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me."

Ignoring Shaun's response, she turned to Desmond. "I don't think I should go with you guys."

"What? Why?"

"'Why?' Maybe because I don't think Altaïr would take too kindly to having someone he'd consider a traitor at the dinner table."

"Now who's being melodramatic?"

"And how would that solve anything?" Desmond asked, also ignoring Shaun. "If you don't go, he'll wonder why."

"Well what am I supposed to do?"

"Just—" Desmond let out a deep sigh— "act like you used to. Pretend everything is fine." He sank into one of the chairs again, running his hand over his face. "You were good at that," he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. He closed his eyes while pinching the bridge of his nose and concentrated on his breathing for a few seconds until another knock at the door caught everyone's attention.

This time, the door opened before anyone could respond and Altaïr stepped inside. "I hope I'm not intruding," he said, eyes bright and lips upturned ever so slightly as he looked between the four of them. He'd changed out of his bloodied robes and now donned a fresh shirt and pants underneath his black Mentors robes. "I've finished with everything downstairs and was hoping you all might join me for dinner."

They looked between each other for a moment then answered at the same time:

"Absolutely."

"Of course."

"Definitely."

"Sure."

Altaïr relaxed, his smile widening as he led them out of their chambers and down the hall. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, there was a stiffness to his walk and a slight hitch to his gait as he favored his left side every few steps, and every so often Altaïr's arm would hug his side just a little closer, as if putting pressure on a fresh wound.

"Do you want me to hold your hand so you don't run into a wall?" Rebecca whispered behind Desmond.

"My eyesight isn't that bad," Shaun hissed back. "I'll be fine without my glasses. I just won't be able to see nearly as far is all."

"Just thought I'd ask."

Desmond struggled to suppress a snort of laughter as they reached a door at the end of the hallway. It was fairly nondescript, though perhaps slightly larger than the rest of them. Altaïr pushed the door open and ushered them inside.

"Woah," Rebecca said, echoing Desmond's thoughts as they entered a fairly sizable but private dining hall, housing a table large enough for twenty to sit and eat comfortably. And now Desmond knew where those delicious smells had been coming from. Platters overflowing with meats, breads, and fruits covered the table, leaving only small areas for individual plates in front of a few chairs at the far end.

Despite the room's size, it felt warm and cozy. Like theirs, this room was also intricately decorated with tapestries and carpets, muting the echo of the fire crackling in the hearth on the opposite side from the door.

"I'm sorry for needing to leave earlier and for taking so long. There was a lot to do after all of today's… excitement," Altaïr said as he walked to the head of the table and gestured to the chairs, motioning to Desmond in particular to sit in the seat directly on the right. "Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable."

Stomachs rumbling, they eagerly took their seats.

"Thank you for this. You're dismissed for the evening," Altaïr said to a servant boy who'd been patiently standing in the corner awaiting his next instructions. The boy, no more than thirteen years old, gangly, and wearing a similar tunic to the ones Desmond and his companions now wore, bowed deeply before silently departing the dining hall and closing the door behind him.

"I thought perhaps this conversation would best be private," Altaïr said once the boy was well out of earshot. He gestured to the mounds of food sitting in front of them. "Please, help yourselves."

Altaïr took his own seat at the head of the table and wasted no time filling his plate with whatever was within arm's reach. The others quickly followed his lead, adding whatever they could reach to their own plates first before passing the dishes around to each other. Desmond wasn't sure what almost any of it was, but he didn't care. Kebabs, stews, meats, vegetables, whatever he could fit he put on his plate. Food was food at this point and neither he nor his stomach cared much. It all smelled equally delicious.

"Desmond, don't be a pig," Shaun hissed across the table, pouring himself a goblet of water from one of the ceramic jugs.

"What? I'm starving." But he glanced at Altaïr anyway, unsure if he'd committed some grave offense with his seeming lack of manners.

Altaïr smirked. "It's alright. It's been a long day and I'm not one to keep a man from his dinner. This is all for us so please, eat."

Desmond looked directly at Shaun and cocked his head to the side as he took another bite off the kebab in his hands. Shaun just rolled his eyes but said nothing in response as he passed the jug of water around the table.

"By the way, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Mentor of the Assassin Order here at Masyaf—"

"We know who you are," Rebecca blurted.

Altaïr gave her a quizzical look. "You do? How?"

Uncomfortable glances passed between the group, with all of them eventually settling on Desmond.

"What? I—you told me to keep my mouth shut!" He glared at Shaun.

"Whatever you're hiding from me, I will eventually find out."

"Oh, just tell him, Des." Shaun's head dropped as he let out a deep sigh. "It's going to sound mental no matter how we tell it."

"Okay, well—we… we're from the future. Like, way in the future."

"The future," Altaïr said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. About five hundred years, give or take."

"You don't seem that surprised," Lucy said.

She was right. Altaïr's didn't look amazed or confused or even doubtful. Instead he had a triumphant smirk.

Desmond's eyes narrowed. "You knew we were coming," he guessed, feeling pleased with himself when Altaïr didn't answer right away.

"Is that why you didn't kill us?" Shaun said through a mouthful of lamb. "For which we are immensely grateful, of course."

"But how? How on earth could you know?"

Altaïr was silent, his lips and expression tightening slightly as though realizing he'd said too much, and he suddenly became very focused on the bread in his hands.

"The Apple," Desmond said.

Altaïr's smile slipped into a scowl. "How do you know about that?" His voice was sharp now, like it had been when he'd first interrogated Desmond in the dungeons.

"Look, we're not here for it. At least, I don't think we are. I still don't know why we're here."

The others shrugged, as clueless as he was as to their purpose in Masyaf.

Altaïr stared intently, waiting for Desmond to explain himself while dipping the piece of bread into a bowl of stew. "I'm listening."

"I guess I'll start at the beginning…"

Over the next half hour, Desmond recounted his time trapped at Abstergo, revealing to Altaïr that the Templar order was still alive and frustratingly well and still trying to bring about a world in which they were in charge of everything. Altaïr perked up when Desmond told him about the Animus, how it was a machine that allowed him to see memories of his ancestors.

"Ancestors?" Altaïr mulled over the word for a moment. "So you and I… we're related, I take it?"

"Separated by about twenty generations, but yeah."

Altaïr hummed noncommittally. "Go on."

Desmond told him that Abstergo was looking for something called a Piece of Eden, and that they suspected Altaïr had come across one. By taking Desmond hostage, they forced him to relive the relevant memories to get the information they sought.

"And did they?"

Desmond frowned. "Yeah. They could see the map, the projection of the world, that you saw in the garden."

"So… seeing this memory—it sent you back to me?"

"No, not exactly. Once the Templars—Abstergo—had the map, I wasn't much use to them. Lucy here helped me escape and we went into hiding. That's when I met Shaun and Rebecca." He gestured to each of them as he said their names. "A lot happened over the next few months. Rebecca had an Animus of her own so I used that to see other ancestors' memories in the hope that maybe we could find some of those Pieces of Eden first."

"And did you?"

"A couple. We found another Apple that a different ancestor of mine had. And a key that opened a door within a Precursor Temple. Eventually we all met up again in Rome and then, out of nowhere, a portal opened in the sky above us and pulled us through. Next thing we know, we're landing in the back of Masyaf Castle."

"And you have no idea why."

Desmond shrugged. "Nope."

"Strange. I take it our meeting isn't by chance, then."

"I doubt it. I learned a long time ago that coincidences are rare."

"Hm, so it would seem."

"What about you?" Rebecca asked. "You knew this would happen?"

Altaïr chuckled once. "Not exactly. I've only had the Apple a week now and I've only just begun to unlock its secrets. It showed me things, things that I don't think have come to pass yet. I saw buildings reaching for the heavens and carriages moving faster than horses. Most of it I couldn't comprehend, but several of the images showed us working alongside each other as allies. Though to what end, I still don't know. Perhaps that's for us all to find out."

"Well, I for one am grateful that you didn't just kill us on the spot," Shaun said after he swallowed a particularly large bite of chicken. "I mean, I wouldn't think four people dropping into the fortress from the sky unannounced would warrant much leniency."

Altaïr laughed. "No, it wouldn't. And I apologize for the heavily armed escort down to the dungeons. While I was mostly sure that you were who I saw in the Apple, I had to make certain." Altaïr turned to Rebecca. "And I apologize for Farim earlier. He's…"

"An asshole?" Desmond suggested.

Altaïr gave him a sideways glance and smirked. "That's certainly one word for him. Though be careful who you say that to around here." His smile faded into a grimace. "As you could see from what happened during the battle earlier, I'm not exactly in everyone's good graces these days. Unfortunately, using my name with some Assassins may get you in more trouble rather than out of it, even within Masyaf."

"Understood," Rebecca said.

As the conversation continued, Desmond finally had a chance to get a long look at Altaïr for the first time since they arrived. His eyes, while still as piercing and observant as ever, were underscored by dark circles and his cropped hair was messy and disheveled, as though he'd spent significant time running his hands through it in frustration lately. His cheeks were somewhat sunken in, giving him a faintly gaunt appearance, and while Desmond hadn't thought about it at the time, the robes he'd been wearing during their interrogation earlier had hung noticeably looser on his already-slender frame. Though he hid it well, the stress of recent events was quickly catching up to the young Mentor.

To Desmond's relief, Altaïr seemed to relax more as the night progressed, the conversation flowing almost as if they were old friends catching up. It was easy to forget that, despite the legacy that would still be alive five hundred years into the future, Altaïr was still just a man.

"This was the most peaceful meal I've had all week," he said as he sat back with a full belly.

"Is that why you're eating up here with us? I'd assumed there would be a grand dining hall somewhere where everyone ate together," Shaun said.

Altaïr scoffed. "After today I think it's pretty clear most of them don't want me around." He gave Desmond a knowing look. "Besides, I thought this conversation would be better in private. I can't have word of time traveling descendants from future centuries coming to visit me spreading around the castle. They'll either think I've gone insane, or even worse still, they'll believe it." Altaïr let out a long, deep sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Everything alright?" Rebecca asked.

"I'm just thinking about today's attack. The whole situation, it… doesn't feel right."

Desmond frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They had what, maybe a few dozen men? Hardly enough to mount an attack on such a large fortress, even with the element of surprise. So if not to sack the castle, then what was their purpose? And how did we not see this coming?"

"Maybe that's why they only brought a few dozen men," Lucy suggested. "So they wouldn't be noticed until it was too late."

"Hm, perhaps." He sat forward and took a long drink from his goblet. "They claimed the attack was in retaliation for killing Robert de Sable, but I'm not convinced."

"Why not?"

"How many Templars did you see out there? A dozen at most? Maybe a few more?"

Desmond shrugged.

"The rest were Byzantine mercenaries. Quite good ones, too. Whoever funded this has a lot of coin."

"And none of them are talking?" Shaun chimed in over the top of his goblet.

"Not anymore."

Shaun stared down at his goblet and swallowed uncomfortably.

"None of them would divulge the nature of their mission, and I'm not sure they even knew what it was. For the right price, Byzantine soldiers won't ask questions."

"I know they don't in our time, but I thought old-school Templars got their own hands dirty?" Rebecca asked. "I mean, they have their own army. Why hire someone else?"

"Why, indeed? That's why this is all so strange."

"You've killed a lot of them, right?" Lucy offered. "Maybe they needed some extra swordsmen?"

Altaïr gave a single, barking laugh. "I hardly made a dent in their numbers. If they needed the men, they still had them. No, something else is going on. One thing is for certain, there is no way they were able to get past all our defenses without help from the inside. One of us helped them."

"Any ideas who?"

"I have a few names in mind, but no one in particular that I'm certain of. It would be nice to go a week without someone betraying the Brotherhood. Perhaps the four of you were sent to me to help me find out what's going on."

"It's possible," Desmond said, shrugging noncommittally.

"So… You're Mentor now," Shaun noted as he reached for another piece of bread. "That's got to be quite an honor."

Altaïr raised his eyebrows, still staring down into his goblet of water.

"Yeah, how's that going? You said you've only been Mentor a week now?"

"You saw that through your machine, too? The… what did you call it? The Animus?"

"Mhm. For the sake of time, just assume that anything important that's happened to you in the past two, maybe three months, I've seen. At least, up until you got the Apple. I don't know what happened this week."

"How comforting," Altaïr said derisively. "But to answer your question, it's… not going well. I apparently have a traitor in my midst and there's still a lot of tension, as you can imagine. Between brothers, between myself and some brothers, between the Brotherhood and the village…" He sighed deeply and rubbed his face with his hand. "I have no idea how to regain anyone's trust, particularly the villagers. We barter and trade with them in exchange for protection from outsiders but lately I feel that relationship has run its course and I worry about another uprising. They've been through three attacks in as many months, at least two of which were my own doing. I suppose we'll find out soon enough if today's attack was my fault as well. I fear the villagers' patience is running thin. This last attack may be what finally turns the village against us. Or against me, anyways." Altaïr slumped back in his chair and interlaced his fingers together.

"What can we do to help?" Rebecca asked.

"Thank you for the offer but leading this Brotherhood is not your duty or obligation."

"It's the Brotherhood's duty to take care of itself, and if helping you is what's necessary to preserve it, you can't refuse our help," Shaun stated.

Altaïr studied them for a moment. "Alright, what do you propose we do?"

"The people think you've abandoned them, right? Or that the Brotherhood has?" Rebecca asked.

"In a way, I suppose."

"Show them that you haven't abandoned them. In their minds, the Assassins have only brought them trouble lately. Help make those troubles go away. What are some of the problems they're facing now?"

Altaïr looked away abashedly. "I… I don't know. That wasn't something Al Mualim… I haven't really given it much thought."

"So let's ask them. See what their problems are and figure out a way to fix them."

"You think that will work?"

"It can't hurt to try. And we'll be here to help, too."

The four of them nodded.

"Alright then. Thank you. All of you." Altaïr flashed them a grateful smile and took another drink from his goblet. "Since you'll be staying here for the foreseeable future, I would like to remind you that what we discussed here tonight should remain between ourselves. It wouldn't be… prudent… for this information to spread around the castle."

"Of course," Lucy answered. "And what should we say if someone asks where we're from?"

"Tell them you come from Lambasar. That's far enough away that nobody will question it."

A round of yawns passed around the table as one by one, everyone slumped back in their chairs, sated by the meal they'd just devoured.

"Perhaps it's time we turn in for the night. We have a busy day tomorrow and I'd like to get started early. The heat has been unbearable lately and the more we can get done before the sun is high in the sky, the better."

"Should we meet you somewhere, or…?"

"I'll come to you," Altaïr decided. "I don't need you getting lost in the castle on your first day here. Well then, let me escort you back to your chambers for the night."

The wooden chairs loudly scraped across the stone floor as they all stood up simultaneously. Too tired to say much of anything, they were silent as they shuffled out the door to Altaïr's chambers and down the hall to their own. They thanked him for the wonderful feast and bid him a good night before closing the door behind them.

If the chairs had looked inviting earlier, that was nothing compared to the enormous four-poster beds adorned with regal-red drapes sitting in the center of each bedroom off each side of the main sitting room. Before anyone could say anything, Shaun and Rebecca collapsed into one of the beds, leaving the other for Desmond and Lucy.

"You two gonna be okay sharing the other bed?" Shaun mumbled, mostly into his pillow and already sounding half asleep. "Or is there going to be another murder? Do Rebecca or I have to swap?"

Desmond and Lucy both rolled their eyes.

"I think we can handle it, at least for tonight," Lucy snapped.

"I'm not worried about it. If she kills any of us, she'll be the first suspect and will never make it out of Masyaf alive."

"Okay, okay, good. Sleep tight, then." Seconds later, Shaun's breathing turned to gentle snores. Even Rebecca, as dependent as she was on her music to help lull her to sleep at night, fell asleep within seconds.

While Lucy headed for the second bedroom, Desmond stoked the dwindling fire in the living room hearth, letting his mind wander through the events of the day. It felt like days—no, weeks ago that they were arriving in Rome, Desmond having just killed Hart on the train ride there. And yet it had barely been twelve hours, give or take a few centuries.

Tired and still feeling a few minor effects of the ketamine lingering in his system, he hobbled off to his new bed and crashed onto the empty side, falling asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

A/N: Gahhh I'm sorry this chapter took a while to come out! I had to do some rearranging (mainly splitting this chapter into two, but also shuffling & removing some scenes around) because it was getting so long, and it's still pretty hefty.

Tensions are still high between Lucy and the rest of the team, but they're going to have to learn to get along if they all want to survive in their new surroundings. We'll see how that goes in the next few chapters ;)

And hey! Desmond and Altair have finally had their first real chat, and with Des admitting that he's from the future no less! I thought about having him try to hide it, but let's be honest, Altair would 100% find out eventually anyways (if he hadn't already) and probably be very pissed off. Coming up with a reason why Altair wouldn't just kill them all outright (I mean, four strangers dropping into the middle of a heavily fortified castle? They wouldn't exactly be welcome) was also a fun puzzle to solve. Yay for Apples of Eden!

Anyways, let me know what your favorite parts and interactions are so far!