Driving Through Italy

November 2012

In the dimly lit back of the van, the hum of the engine droned on, blending with the rhythmic thuds of the tires on the uneven road. The air was thick with the scent of old leather seats and the faint metallic tinge of the equipment they had hastily packed. Claire sat beside Desmond, who was lying back in the Animus chair, his body relaxed but his expression tight with concentration as he delved deeper into the memories of Ezio Auditore. She kept a steady watch on the screen that monitored his vitals, the gentle beeping offering a steady rhythm that grounded her amidst the chaos of their lives.

Her fingers curled around his hand, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin beneath her own. She'd never say it aloud, but it was comforting to feel that connection, even if Desmond couldn't respond. The Animus had a way of isolating them, trapping him in a world of long-dead memories while she remained firmly in the present, and she clung to the small, tangible reminder that he was still here, still fighting beside her.

She leaned her head back against the cool metal wall of the van, exhaustion weighing heavy on her eyelids. It was a long drive, with Shaun and Rebecca up front, navigating their way to Monteriggioni. Every so often, Rebecca would call back to check on Desmond's status, but for the most part, it was just the low murmur of the engine and the occasional bump in the road that filled the silence. Claire's thoughts drifted as the road stretched on, the weariness pulling her under, and she let her eyes close, unable to fight the pull of sleep any longer.

As she drifted, her dreams were filled with fragmented images, blurred at the edges like scenes from an old film. At first, she was in the middle of a sunlit courtyard, surrounded by the sounds of clashing swords and the distant calls of merchants peddling their wares. It was Monteriggioni, unmistakable in its medieval charm, with its stone walls rising up against the deep blue sky. Claire recognized the scene, even felt the familiar weight of her own footsteps against the cobblestones, but she wasn't herself—she was Amelia, seeing the world through her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin.

She turned, her gaze landing on Ezio, who stood with his back to her, discussing strategies with Mario and Giovanni. His voice, rich with conviction, carried over the courtyard, every word a reminder of his unyielding determination. He turned, catching her eye, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a smile that she felt warm her own chest, spreading a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in so long.

She tried to reach for him, but the dream shifted, sliding through time like water slipping through her fingers. The scene changed to the dimly lit interior of the villa, where Ezio sat at a table, pouring over the deciphered Codex pages with Amelia at his side. She felt Amelia's pride swell as she studied the maps, her hand resting on Ezio's shoulder, grounding him in the way only she could. It was a shared moment, filled with an unspoken promise that they would face whatever came next—together.

But the dream twisted again, the warmth fading as shadows seeped in around the edges. Now, she was back in the Animus chair, only this time it wasn't Desmond she saw lying there—it was herself. Her body, pale and still, hooked up to wires and monitors, with her face slack in unconsciousness. Panic clawed at her throat, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. She tried to scream, to reach out, but she felt paralyzed, trapped in this space between memory and reality. And then she saw him—Desmond, standing at the edge of the dreamscape, watching her with a haunted expression, his hand reaching out like he could pull her back from the brink.

The dream shifted once more, and suddenly, she was in Desmond's arms. His presence was solid, grounding, and the way he looked at her—like she was something worth saving—cut through the haze of fear that lingered in her chest. His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn't realized she'd shed. There was something unspoken between them, a question that hung in the air. Did he see her as herself, or was he seeing the echoes of Amelia in her eyes, just as she struggled to separate Desmond from the memories of Ezio?

She woke with a jolt, her breath catching in her throat, the vivid remnants of the dream lingering behind her closed eyelids. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was—caught between the past and present, between the shadows of memories that weren't entirely her own. But then she felt Desmond's hand still clasped in hers, the warmth of his touch anchoring her back to the present, back to the van hurtling toward Monteriggioni and whatever awaited them there.

Claire swallowed hard, forcing the remnants of the dream to the back of her mind. She tightened her grip on Desmond's hand, a small reassurance to herself as much as to him. His breathing had evened out, his body remaining tense as the memories played out in his mind. She watched the subtle flicker of his eyelids, the way his brow furrowed as if he were struggling with something just beyond his grasp. The same way she was.

She reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his temple. "You're not alone in this, Desmond," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear her. "Neither of us are."

Rebecca's voice cut through the haze, calling back from the front seat. "Hey, Claire, how's our Animus passenger holding up back there?"

She straightened, trying to push the lingering sense of unease from her voice. "He's stable. Vitals are steady," she replied, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "How much longer until we reach Monteriggioni?"

Shaun's voice, dry as ever, answered her. "Another few hours, at least. Plenty of time for you to catch some rest. Not like you've been doing much of that lately."

Claire managed a small, humorless smile. "I'll sleep when we're safe."

She settled back against the wall, the tension in her muscles refusing to ease, even as the van's steady rhythm continued to lull her into a state somewhere between wakefulness and dreams. Her mind drifted back to Desmond, still lost in the echoes of a life that wasn't his, and she wondered how much of him would remain once he finally emerged from those memories.

Would he still look at her with that same steady warmth? Or would the shadows of their shared pasts make it impossible to see each other as they truly were? She didn't have the answers—not yet—but she knew that whatever came next, they would face it together. Even if it meant fighting their way through the ghosts that haunted them, one step at a time.

Desmond stirred beside her, a soft groan escaping his lips as he blinked against the harsh light filtering through the van's windows. Claire squeezed his hand, offering him a small, encouraging smile, even though she could see the disorientation still clouding his eyes.

"Hey, you're back," she said softly, her thumb tracing small circles against the back of his hand. "How are you feeling?"

He shifted, wincing as he sat up straighter, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the Animus. "Like I've been hit by a truck," he muttered, managing a wry smile despite the exhaustion lining his face. "Did we make it?"

Claire nodded, glancing out the window as the villa came into view—its stone walls cracked and weathered, overtaken by creeping ivy. "Yeah, we're here. Last safe house in Italy, apparently." She tried to keep her tone light, but the underlying urgency threaded through her words. She knew they didn't have time to linger, to catch their breath.

Rebecca's voice broke through their moment, her frustration palpable as she fiddled with her equipment. "Lucy, I can't seem to get a position on Ezio's P.O.E."

Desmond rubbed a hand over his face, still trying to clear the haze from his mind. "P.O.E? Could one of you tell me what's going on?" he asked, looking between Claire and the others, his brow furrowed.

Lucy twisted in her seat, meeting Desmond's gaze with a tight, apologetic expression. "Sorry, Desmond, Piece of Eden. In the Vatican, Minerva talked about other temples, that they're the key to preventing whatever terrible thing is about to happen to the Earth."

Desmond's frown deepened as he processed her words. He looked to Claire, as if hoping she might have some insight to offer, but she could only offer him a grim nod in return. There were no easy answers here.

The van doors creaked open, letting in a rush of cold air, and the group piled out onto the gravel. The wind whipped around them, tugging at their clothes as they took in the sight of the villa's crumbling walls. Lucy led them to a weathered side entrance, her voice grim. "To find the temples, I'm convinced we need to get our hands on Ezio's Apple of Eden. Minerva altered it somehow when she 'touched' it."

Desmond stepped closer to the ancient structure, his hand brushing against the rough stone. The villa loomed like a monument to all that had been lost, a reminder of the history they carried on their shoulders. He turned to Lucy, confusion knitting his brow. "Wait. We're at the Auditore Villa?"

"Yes. It's our last safehouse in Italy," she confirmed, her eyes scanning the landscape. "It turns out the Templars are watching the border."

Rebecca was still tinkering with the Animus equipment, frustration clear in her movements. "Ezio hid the P.O.E. sometime in 1507, but when I try to access that DNA sequence, he seems to be... remembering something else."

"Like a memory inside a memory?" Desmond asked, his curiosity piqued despite the weight of the situation.

Rebecca hesitated, glancing at the readings on her screen. "Yes. Exactly. Maybe."

Desmond let out a small, humorless laugh. "Exactly maybe?"

Shaun, ever the skeptic, leaned against the van with a shrug. "I believe you experienced something similar back at Abstergo, didn't you?"

Lucy's expression shifted, her eyes turning somber as she glanced between Desmond and Claire. "Subject 15 exhibited memory-within-memory-like patterns, but she was pregnant. The memories of both the fetus' father and mother were competing."

Shaun's dry voice cut through the tension. "Desmond's not pregnant. At least, as far as I can tell. Might have just had a big lunch."

Claire shot him a withering look, but she couldn't quite keep the corner of her mouth from twitching. "Really, Shaun? Now's the time?"

Lucy let out a breath, ignoring Shaun's comment. "Can you skip ahead to a later memory?"

Rebecca shook her head, her frustration evident. "No, it doesn't work."

Lucy sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Well, that sounds familiar. We couldn't access Altaïr's later memories until Desmond had improved his synchronization."

"Then it's possible something similar has occurred here," Shaun interjected. "Ezio's troubled state is being transposed onto Desmond, destabilizing the memory. Either that, or Rebecca's just not a very good engineer."

"Thanks, asshole," Rebecca snapped, shooting him a glare over her shoulder.

Claire rolled her eyes at their bickering, but her mind remained fixed on the larger problem. Her gaze drifted back to Desmond, who was staring at the villa like he was seeing it through the eyes of both his ancestor and himself. She reached out, touching his arm gently. "Hey. You okay?"

He turned to her, and for a moment, the uncertainty in his eyes made him look younger—more vulnerable. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... a lot to take in."

Rebecca cut in, her tone urgent. "This place isn't secure. Cell phone surveillance can see right through the walls."

Desmond frowned, glancing at her. "Don't you mean satellite surveillance?"

Rebecca shook her head, looking more serious than Claire had ever seen her. "Are you kidding? Abstergo upgraded to cell towers ages ago. The waves go through everything above ground. They're gonna find us."

Amelia stepped forward, her expression hard as she scanned the landscape. "No, they aren't. Come with me."

Claire and Desmond exchanged a look before following Amelia toward the villa's entrance. When they reached the door, Amelia's brow furrowed. "There's a beam blocking it from the inside. We're not getting in this way."

Rebecca sighed, frustration creeping into her voice. "What's our next move?"

Lucy glanced around, weighing their options as her expression grew more tense. "The road just loops back into the highway. This is not a good place for us to be right now."

Rebecca nodded toward the van. "Do we have any tarps? We need to cover up the van."

Shaun's voice was tight with anxiety as he checked his watch. "I really hate to stress this, yeah, but we are running out of time."

Lucy's frustration bubbled over as she shot him a glare. "Well, help us then, Shaun. Do you have any ideas?"

Shaun threw up his hands, exasperation clear in every movement. "I don't know, maybe there's another way into the Sanctuary?"