Claire gasped, sitting up abruptly from the animus. As quickly as she could she bolted away from the machine and into a corner where she emptied the contents of her stomach on the stone pavement.
Claire's body shook as she retched, her mind reeling from the intense sensations she'd just experienced in the animus. The memories of her ancestor were still vivid, almost tangible. She could still feel the phantom touch of rough hands on her skin, smell the acrid scent of gunpowder, hear the clash of steel.
"Claire? Are you alright?" Rebecca was at her side in an instant, rubbing circles into her back. Claire flinched away from her, afraid of the contact.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her breathing ragged. "I'm fine," she managed to croak out, though she was far from it. The nausea was subsiding, but the disorientation lingered.
Claire slowly pushed herself to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. She leaned against the cold stone wall for support, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to steady herself. The memories were still swirling in her mind, fragments of a life not her own.
"What happened in there?" Shaun asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Did you sync with a traumatic memory?"
Claire's head thrashed back and forth, her eyes wide with panic as she struggled to find the words to convey the unspeakable horror she had experienced. She could still feel the hot breath of her ancestor's attacker on her skin, his rough hands ripping at her clothes, forcing himself upon her. The memory brought a surge of bile to her throat and she doubled over, retching violently until her shoes were splattered in a putrid mess.
"I need some air," she mumbled, pushing past Rebecca and Shaun.
Claire stumbled out into the warm Italian night, the stars twinkling overhead in stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her. She gulped in lungfuls of the fresh air, trying to cleanse her system of the lingering sensations from the animus. But no matter how deeply she breathed, she couldn't shake the feeling of violation that clung to her like a second skin.
She wandered aimlessly through the narrow cobblestone streets, her feet carrying her without conscious thought. The quaint charm of the ancient city was lost on her as memories continued to assault her senses. Claire could still feel the rough bark of the tree digging into her back, smell the rancid breath of her ancestor's attacker, hear the cruel laughter as he tore at her clothes.
A sob escaped her throat, echoing off the buildings. Claire stumbled, her hand bracing against a weathered stone wall as she tried to steady herself. The cool night air did little to calm the storm raging within her. Every shadow seemed to loom menacingly, every distant sound making her flinch.
She found herself in a small piazza, moonlight glinting off the surface of an ornate fountain at its center. Claire collapsed onto the fountain's edge, her legs finally giving out. She stared at her distorted reflection in the rippling water, hardly recognizing the haunted face staring back at her.
"It wasn't me," she whispered, trying to convince herself. "It wasn't me." But the line between her own identity and that of her ancestor had become blurred. The violation felt as real and immediate as if it had happened to her own body. Claire shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the phantom touch.
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump. Claire whirled around, heart pounding, only to find Lucy standing behind her. His hood was down, concern evident in his warm brown eyes.
"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Claire relaxed slightly at the sight of her, though her nerves were still on edge. "It's okay," she mumbled, turning back to stare at the fountain.
Lucy sat down beside Claire, careful to maintain a respectful distance. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the gentle splashing of the fountain the only sound between them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Lucy finally asked, her voice gentle.
Claire shook her head, then paused. "I... I don't know if I can," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was... it was horrible, Lucy. I felt everything she felt. The fear, the pain, the... the violation." Her voice broke on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
Lucy nodded, understanding in her eyes. "The bleeding effect can be intense," she said softly. "Sometimes the line between our ancestors' memories and our own experiences becomes blurred. But Claire, you need to remember - what happened to her didn't happen to you. You're safe now."
Claire nodded numbly, but Lucy's words did little to ease the turmoil within her. The memory felt so visceral, so immediate. She could still feel the phantom sensations on her skin.
"I know that logically," Claire said, her voice shaky. "But it feels so real. Like it happened to me. I can still feel his hands on me, smell his breath..." She shuddered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.
Lucy inched closer, her presence comforting without being intrusive. "I'm so sorry you had to experience that, Claire. No one should have to go through something like that, even secondhand." She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"How is Desmond fairing?" Claire asked, glancing over her shoulder towards the house. Desmond was still in the sanctuary living Ezio's memories. She was glad that their ancestors had split up she he didn't have to witness what had just happened to his love, to Amelia.
Lucy's expression softened at the mention of Desmond. "He's still in the Animus, reliving Ezio's memories. We thought it best not to disturb him for now." She hesitated before adding, "Claire, I know this is difficult, but we need to discuss what you saw. Was there any information about the Piece of Eden?"
Claire shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "No, nothing about that damn artifact. Just... pain and horror." She took a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself. "I don't know if I can go back in there, Lucy. I can't... I can't experience that again."
Lucy placed a gentle hand on Claire's arm, her touch warm and comforting. "I understand. We can take a break. I'll see if Rebecca can skip some of the memories for you. But Claire, we need you. The information in your genetic memories could be crucial to stopping Abstergo."
Claire nodded, knowing Lucy was right but still feeling a wave of dread at the thought of re-entering the Animus. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Okay. I'll try again tomorrow. But... can we stay out here a bit longer? I'm not ready to go back yet."
Lucy smiled softly. "Of course. Take all the time you need."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, the gentle splashing of the fountain soothing Claire's frayed nerves. The cool night air helped clear her head, pushing back the lingering memories of her ancestor's trauma.
"Thank you, I know that we haven't exactly been getting along, but I appreciate you coming out here to check on me." Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper as she examined the cobblestone under her feet.
Lucy's expression softened. "Of course, Claire. We may have our differences, but we're all in this together. I care about your wellbeing."
Claire nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. Despite their past conflicts, Lucy's presence was comforting in this moment of vulnerability. "I think I am going to sit out here a little longer."
"Ok, take your time. I'll see if Rebecca can jump forward in Amelia's timeline for you." Lucy stood,
Lucy stood, placing a gentle hand on Claire's shoulder before turning to leave. As her footsteps faded away, Claire was left alone with her thoughts once more.
The night air had grown cooler, and Claire shivered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. She stared into the rippling water of the fountain, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling within her. The trauma of her ancestor's experience still lingered, but it was slowly receding, like the tide pulling back from the shore.
Claire closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and focusing on the present moment - the cool stone beneath her, the gentle splash of water, the distant sounds of the sleeping city. Gradually, she felt her racing heart begin to slow, her tense muscles starting to relax.
As her eyes fluttered open, she noticed a figure emerging from the shadows, shrouded in mystery. Fear gripped her heart momentarily until she recognized the ancient Italian armor adorning the woman's body.
"Amelia?" She called out, rising to her feet to get a better look at the ghostly figure standing before her.
"Claire," Amelia greeted her with a small smile. "I'm sorry you had to witness that."
"I can't believe Cesare would do something like that to you." Claire's voice was filled with disbelief and anger.
Amelia's ethereal form kneeled before her, attempting to take her hands in hers. But Claire felt nothing but a faint chill as their hands passed through each other.
"Still getting used to that," Amelia grumbled. "But I am here now to tell you...be strong. Your friend won't be able to skip these memories. They are crucial to who I became in the coming years." A sense of dread settled in Claire's stomach.
"Oh god..." She stumbled backwards and sank down onto the edge of the fountain once again, feeling overwhelmed by everything that had been revealed to her.
Amelia remained by her side, offering words of comfort despite their intangible connection. "I want you to know, that I survived. I survived all of it. Ezio came in the end and rescued me from there." The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, a testament to Amelia's strength and resilience in the face of such harrowing experiences.
Claire stared at Amelia's ghostly form, her mind reeling from this unexpected encounter. "But how... how did you survive that? How did you go on?"
Amelia's eyes held a depth of emotion that transcended time. "It wasn't easy," she admitted. "There were days I wanted to give up, to let the darkness consume me. But I had a purpose, a mission greater than myself. And I had Ezio."
Claire nodded, remembering the fierce love she had witnessed between Amelia and Ezio in the Animus. "He saved you?"
"In more ways than one," Amelia said softly. "He gave me a reason to keep fighting, to push through the pain and trauma. But Claire, you must understand - I saved myself too. My strength, my resilience, they came from within."
Claire felt a surge of admiration for her ancestor
Claire felt a surge of admiration for her ancestor. Despite the horrors Amelia had endured, she had found the strength to carry on, to fight for what she believed in. It was inspiring, yet daunting. Could Claire find that same strength within herself?
"I don't know if I can do this," Claire admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to relive your memories, to feel what you felt."
Amelia's ghostly form seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. "You are stronger than you know, Claire. My blood runs through your veins. My strength is your strength."
Claire took a deep breath, trying to draw on that inner well of courage Amelia spoke of. "But how do I separate myself from your memories? How do I remember that it's not happening to me?"
"Focus on the present," Amelia told her. "Just as Ezio was there for me, you have Desmond. He will be your anchor."
Claire's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Desmond. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to rely on his steady presence, his unwavering support.
"Desmond..." she murmured, a warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of him.
Amelia's ghostly form seemed to smile knowingly. "Your connection to him is strong, just as mine was with Ezio. Let that bond ground you when the memories become overwhelming."
Claire nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She looked up at Amelia, curiosity burning in her eyes. "What happened after... after Cesare? How did you move forward?"
Amelia's expression grew solemn. "It was a long and difficult journey. But I found purpose in my work with the Assassins, in fighting against the very evil that had hurt me. And I found healing in the home that I was able to create with Ezio when we were finally done."
Claire listened intently, drawing strength from Amelia's words, as she continued. "I was with Cesare and Lucrezia for a year. After a year of torture, I was broken - both in body and spirit. For weeks, I could barely eat or sleep. The memories haunted me, day and night. But Ezio was there, patient and understanding. He never pushed me, never rushed my healing."
Amelia's form seemed to flicker, as if recalling those difficult days was taxing even for a spirit. "Slowly, I began to reclaim my body, my strength. I threw myself into training, pushing my limits until my muscles screamed. It was a way to feel in control again, to remind myself that I was still alive, still fighting."
Claire nodded, understanding the need to feel strong, to push back against vulnerability. "But how did you deal with the fear? The memories?"
Amelia's eyes held a depth of understanding that transcended time. "The fear... it never truly goes away. But it changes. It becomes something you can manage, something that drives you rather than paralyzes you."
She paused, her ethereal form shimmering in the moonlight. "I learned to channel that fear into determination. Every time I felt afraid, I reminded myself that I had survived. That I was stronger than what had been done to me. Listen to your heart, Claire. I must go, I cannot hold this form for long."
As Amelia's form began to fade, Claire felt a sudden panic. "Wait!" she cried out. "I still have so many questions!"
But Amelia was gone, leaving Claire alone once more by the fountain. The night air felt colder now, and she shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Her mind was reeling from the encounter, trying to process everything Amelia had told her.
Claire stood up slowly, her legs a bit unsteady. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. Amelia's words echoed in her mind: "Listen to your heart." But what was her heart telling her?
As if in answer, she felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to see Desmond. Amelia had said he would be her anchor, and right now, Claire needed that stability more than anything.
She made her way back through the winding streets, her steps growing more confident as she neared the sanctuary. The conversation with Amelia's spirit had given her a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As Claire entered the sanctuary, she found Desmond just emerging from the Animus, looking disoriented and weary. Their eyes met across the room, and something electric passed between them. Without a word, Claire crossed the space and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.
Desmond stiffened for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, before wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Claire? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Claire shook her head, not ready to speak yet. She simply held onto him, drawing comfort from his solid presence, his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.
Desmond seemed to understand, holding her close and gently stroking her hair. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat began to soothe Claire's frayed nerves. She took a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent - a mix of soap and something uniquely Desmond.
After a few moments, Claire pulled back slightly, looking up into Desmond's concerned eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just... I needed this."
Desmond's hand cupped her cheek gently. "Hey, no need to apologize. I'm here for you, always." His thumb brushed away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Claire hesitated, unsure how to explain everything she had experienced. The trauma of Amelia's memories, the ghostly encounter by the fountain - it all seemed too surreal. But as she looked into Desmond's eyes, she felt a surge of trust and comfort.
"I... I experienced something terrible in the Animus," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Amelia, she... Cesare..." Claire's voice broke, unable to form the words.
Understanding dawned in Desmond's eyes, and he pulled her close again, his arms enveloping her in a warm embrace. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, and it comforted her.
"Jesus, Claire," he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with concern and love.
Claire clung to him, drawing strength from his touch as she tried to steady herself. "It felt so real," she whispered, her words barely audible.
Desmond held her tighter, silently offering his support. "Like it was happening to me," he finished for her, understanding the depth of her experience.
But their intimate moment was interrupted by Rebecca's voice calling out from her workstation. Claire reluctantly pulled away from Desmond and looked over at her friend.
"I know," she replied wearily. "We can't just ignore these memories."
Rebecca's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know that?" she asked, amazed by Claire's insight into the situation.
Claire hesitated, her heart racing as she tried to gather her thoughts. How could she possibly explain the sensation of Amelia's spirit brushing against her own? The way it felt like a warm breeze, carrying whispers and memories.
"I just... had a feeling," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't ready to share the full truth, not yet.
Desmond's hand found hers, his fingers intertwining with hers in a comforting gesture. "Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked, worry etched into his features.
Claire took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I have to be," she said firmly. "These memories are important. I can't let my fear hold us back."
Desmond nodded solemnly, admiration glinting in his eyes. "You're incredibly brave," he said sincerely.
His words sent a surge of warmth through Claire's body, strengthening her resolve. She managed a small smile. "I'm trying to be." It was the best any of them could do at this point - try their hardest and hope for the best.
As they made their way back to the Animus, Claire felt a mix of dread and determination. Desmond's hand in hers was a lifeline, anchoring her to the present even as she prepared to dive back into the past.
Rebecca was waiting for them, her face etched with concern. "Claire, are you sure about this? We can take more time if you need it."
Claire shook her head, steeling herself. "No, we need to do this now. Every moment we delay gives Abstergo more of an advantage."
She settled into the Animus, trying to ignore the way her heart raced. Desmond squeezed her hand one last time before stepping back. "I'll be right here," he promised.
As the familiar white light of the Animus enveloped her, Claire focused on Desmond's words, on the warmth of his touch. She clung to that sensation as Amelia's world materialized around her once more.