A/N: So, my interpretation of the animus is that Desmond doesn't actually hear/speak Italian, Turkish, Arabic, or whatever when he goes into the thing – there is translation software built into the darned thing. Desmond might know a few Italian phrases, just from spending time in Monteriggioni, but not enough to actually converse with Ezio. As for Ezio, I doubt he would know any English at all.
“Life on earth is a whole, yet it expresses itself in unique time-bound bodies, microscopic or visible, plant or animal, extinct or living. So there can be no one place to be. There can be no one way to be, no one way to practice, no one way to learn, no one way to love, no one way to grow or to heal, no one way to live, no one way to feel, no one thing to know or be known. The particulars count.” – Jon Kabat Zinn
Chapter 1
Every muscle, every bone in his body is aching when he wakes to someone tripping over him, as if he were a log in the middle of a road. He wants to groan, but he is very aware of the other's presence nearby, and so he controls his breathing, and does not make a sound. A foot prods him, a voice he does not recognize speaks in a language he does not understand. The tone of it is urgent, rushed.
He does not have long to wait before the other bends down and grabs his shoulder. A breath, a simple throw, and a release of the hidden blade and Ezio has the other penned beneath him, his life at his mercy. The other man speaks, opens his hands in supplication chokes out words in the foreign language that Ezio does not understand.
Ezio presses the blade closer, for just a second, as the man allows his hands to unfold by his side in a gesture of supplication, eyes wide and pleading. Ezio sees the glint of the steel of a hidden blade under his sleeve and relaxes his hold just slightly, as he focuses his second sight on the man.
“Stop. Listen --”
The other man glows a bright blue. A brother, then.
Ezio nods, meeting eyes in a face too reminiscent of his own. The skin tone is different, but the eyes, the nose, the shape of his jaw – it is almost as if he is seeing his own reflection, only slightly distorted. He retracts his blade and relaxes his grip on the man, who coughs and stands. Ezio takes a moment to look around. He does not recognize where he is, and does not remember how he got here. But he does recognize the work of Minerva's people all around him, It is not a good omen.
The other assassin places a hand on his arm and points; says more words he does not understand. The urgency in his voice is clear and strong.
“We need to go, now. This whole place is going to blow.”
Ezio's eyes follow the direction he is pointing. His keen eyes take in the glowing sphere and he watches it for a moment. The artifact is pulsing with energy, glowing bright enough to challenge the sun, and he understands.
Around him, he sees remnants of the first civilization everywhere. There is, what appears to be the beginnings of a bridge in front of him, but it is incomplete. He runs to the edge of it anyway, the other assassin right behind him. Ezio does not see any bottom to the chasm they are in, no obvious way out, and he holds out an arm over the edge –
– the other assassin grabs him by the back of the cloak, as he leans forward –
“Wait. Stop, you are going to fall --”
Ezio reaches. The floor shifts underneath him as he does, and he knows that it is his will that is making it shift. He has no idea how he is doing it, but the energy that is flowing through him is familiar; the same energy he used to clone himself when he faced off against Borgia. It is the power of an apple, and yet he holds none.
The floor locks into place, and now it is a bridge, spanning the chasm. But Ezio no longer has the strength to cross it. He falls to his knees, taking deep, heavy breaths.
The other assassin takes a deep breath of surprise and then puts a tentative foot onto the bridge, testing its stability. When it does not shift or change, he nods and reaches down to help Ezio to his feet.
“C'mon man. Lean on me, if you have to. We have to go, we have to get out of here.”
He struggles to keep pace with the other man, leaning on him heavily for support as they cross the bridge. When they get to the other side, there is a strange wall blocking the rest of their path.
“Shit. Shit,” The other assassin says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Ezio hears a loud roar behind him, and the whole room starts to tremble.
The other man looks at him, makes a hand gesture towards the wall and then towards Ezio, and speaks. The tone of his voice is that of a query, and Ezio understands the intent of the other man, even if he does not understand the words.
“The key... I don't have it. Can you do your apple thing, and quickly?”
Ezio holds his hand up to the wall and concentrates. It takes a moment before the wall fractures, and falls, sharp broken pieces resembling shards of glass falling all around them. Ezio trips and falls, exhausted. He can go no further.
“Vai, fratelio,” he orders, but the other assassin doesn't listen to him, doesn't seem to understand him. Instead, he finds himself hauled up once again, by arms straining with the weight of him, and hoisted over the back of a man much to small to carry him.
“Shit, man. You are a heavy fucker... you carrying anchors in those pouches?”
Ezio groans as the man carries him through the doorway. The ground shifts and rumbles beneath them, as the other man runs as fast as he can while carrying at least his own body weight in the form of Ezio and all his gear. When they get to the bottom of a long tunnel leading upwards, the other man drops him abruptly –-
“Watch out”
--and covers him with his own body as one of the walls collapse.
The rumbling is getting louder now, his companion is on top of him not moving, and Ezio is nowhere near close to full strength. Ezio pushes at his companion urgently, and lets out a breath when he sees the other man's eyes flutter.
“Luogo, fratello,” He orders, using the same tone that he would when issuing a command. The other man jerks to awareness. Ezio pulls them both to their feet, and together they start climbing up the slope, using the bits and pieces of the collapsed wall to help them up. When they reach the top, they are blocked once again by an impenetrable metal wall covered in first civilization script. There is a place for an apple to sit, recessed into the wall, and yet they have none.
There is the sound of a large explosion from behind them, and Ezio reaches forward, places his hand into the space the apple should go, and the wall shifts; splitting in two. He shoves the other assassin through and follows him, as behind them both the slope they just finished climbing falls away into the earth below.
The cave they end up in is trembling and collapsing under their very feet. They run, the both of them as fast as they can, trying to escape the heat and the light that follows them. When they reach the caves opening, Ezio sucks in a great breath and throws himself outside, onto the ground. The other assassin ends up besides him on the grass, breathing heavily. They both turn around in time to see the entrance to the cave collapse.
The sound is loud, so loud and Ezio covers his ears for what is probably only a minute, but it seems an eternity. It feels like the very ground might give way underneath them, and he forces himself to crawl forward, only sparing a quick look to ensure that the other assassin was doing so as well.
When he removes his hands, his ears are still ringing.
The other assassin rolls towards him, checking him for injuries, brushing dirt and bits of rock off of his robes. When he finds none, the other man turns back towards the cave, his face as pale as a ghost.
“Shit, shit, double shit, fuck... we are so very fucked. Not good... not fucking good at all.”
“Pace,” Ezio responds. He does not understand the other man, but he can see the panic in his eyes and in his actions, as the other man takes his short hair into his hands and pulls. He puts a hand on the other assassin's shoulder in a show of solidarity, and that seems to calm the other man down some.
Ezio points towards himself.
“Ezio Auditore. Li tuo nome?”
The other man takes a shuddering breath and turns his head away for a moment before answering.
“Ah... shit... I knew I should have paid better attention... Il nome mio... Desmond Miles.. I think that's how you say it, yeah... shit...”
The Italian is forced, and heavy with an unfamiliar accent. But Ezio understands. He knows the name, has heard it before. Minerva had said the name Desmond, just before he woke up here, wherever here is.
He looks at Desmond's attire, and modifies the thought. He heard the name Desmond, just before he woke up here, whenever here is.
Something pulls him towards Desmond, an impulse to reach and to touch, and he does not deny it. He reaches, brushes the side of the other man's face, touches his temple in a way that is almost intimate –
There is a rush of information that comes to him as the pads of his fingers make contact. Numbers fly through in his head, reawakening knowledge of a language that he did not know that he knew. One that he had never bothered to learn in life. He almost pulls his hand away in shock, but then there is more information that comes, and he forces himself to maintain the connection. They are his memories, and yet not his. They are memories of a future, of his future, which had not yet come to pass for him, but he feels them as if they had. The memories come at a dizzying rate; he can't make sense of them. People he had not met fly before him in his head, followed by emotions that he had yet to feel. His wife. His children. His own death. It is dizzying, terrifying, and he cannot break away --
Other lives follow. Other memories. Altair's. Connor's. Desmond's. Names – Shawn, William, Rebecca. Lucy. Regret, Sadness. He sees a sparkling city burn under the flames of the son and he understands Desmond's anguish, his despair and desperation. He sees Juno, sees the mania in her eyes, the hunger.
He knows why he is here. He is not enough, he has never been enough, he has only been a messenger.
Desmond is a messenger as well, he realizes. The memories slowly taper off. When they are done, Desmond falls to the ground, out cold. Ezio feels himself slipping as well. The heavy fog of unconsciousness slips in and for a while, he knows no more.
Fill: Every hour God sends, part 1
“Life on earth is a whole, yet it expresses itself in unique time-bound bodies, microscopic or visible, plant or animal, extinct or living. So there can be no one place to be. There can be no one way to be, no one way to practice, no one way to learn, no one way to love, no one way to grow or to heal, no one way to live, no one way to feel, no one thing to know or be known. The particulars count.” – Jon Kabat Zinn
Chapter 1
Every muscle, every bone in his body is aching when he wakes to someone tripping over him, as if he were a log in the middle of a road. He wants to groan, but he is very aware of the other's presence nearby, and so he controls his breathing, and does not make a sound. A foot prods him, a voice he does not recognize speaks in a language he does not understand. The tone of it is urgent, rushed.
He does not have long to wait before the other bends down and grabs his shoulder. A breath, a simple throw, and a release of the hidden blade and Ezio has the other penned beneath him, his life at his mercy. The other man speaks, opens his hands in supplication chokes out words in the foreign language that Ezio does not understand.
Ezio presses the blade closer, for just a second, as the man allows his hands to unfold by his side in a gesture of supplication, eyes wide and pleading. Ezio sees the glint of the steel of a hidden blade under his sleeve and relaxes his hold just slightly, as he focuses his second sight on the man.
“Stop. Listen --”
The other man glows a bright blue. A brother, then.
Ezio nods, meeting eyes in a face too reminiscent of his own. The skin tone is different, but the eyes, the nose, the shape of his jaw – it is almost as if he is seeing his own reflection, only slightly distorted. He retracts his blade and relaxes his grip on the man, who coughs and stands. Ezio takes a moment to look around. He does not recognize where he is, and does not remember how he got here. But he does recognize the work of Minerva's people all around him, It is not a good omen.
The other assassin places a hand on his arm and points; says more words he does not understand. The urgency in his voice is clear and strong.
“We need to go, now. This whole place is going to blow.”
Ezio's eyes follow the direction he is pointing. His keen eyes take in the glowing sphere and he watches it for a moment. The artifact is pulsing with energy, glowing bright enough to challenge the sun, and he understands.
Around him, he sees remnants of the first civilization everywhere. There is, what appears to be the beginnings of a bridge in front of him, but it is incomplete. He runs to the edge of it anyway, the other assassin right behind him. Ezio does not see any bottom to the chasm they are in, no obvious way out, and he holds out an arm over the edge –
– the other assassin grabs him by the back of the cloak, as he leans forward –
“Wait. Stop, you are going to fall --”
Ezio reaches. The floor shifts underneath him as he does, and he knows that it is his will that is making it shift. He has no idea how he is doing it, but the energy that is flowing through him is familiar; the same energy he used to clone himself when he faced off against Borgia. It is the power of an apple, and yet he holds none.
The floor locks into place, and now it is a bridge, spanning the chasm. But Ezio no longer has the strength to cross it. He falls to his knees, taking deep, heavy breaths.
The other assassin takes a deep breath of surprise and then puts a tentative foot onto the bridge, testing its stability. When it does not shift or change, he nods and reaches down to help Ezio to his feet.
“C'mon man. Lean on me, if you have to. We have to go, we have to get out of here.”
He struggles to keep pace with the other man, leaning on him heavily for support as they cross the bridge. When they get to the other side, there is a strange wall blocking the rest of their path.
“Shit. Shit,” The other assassin says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Ezio hears a loud roar behind him, and the whole room starts to tremble.
The other man looks at him, makes a hand gesture towards the wall and then towards Ezio, and speaks. The tone of his voice is that of a query, and Ezio understands the intent of the other man, even if he does not understand the words.
“The key... I don't have it. Can you do your apple thing, and quickly?”
Ezio holds his hand up to the wall and concentrates. It takes a moment before the wall fractures, and falls, sharp broken pieces resembling shards of glass falling all around them. Ezio trips and falls, exhausted. He can go no further.
“Vai, fratelio,” he orders, but the other assassin doesn't listen to him, doesn't seem to understand him. Instead, he finds himself hauled up once again, by arms straining with the weight of him, and hoisted over the back of a man much to small to carry him.
“Shit, man. You are a heavy fucker... you carrying anchors in those pouches?”
Ezio groans as the man carries him through the doorway. The ground shifts and rumbles beneath them, as the other man runs as fast as he can while carrying at least his own body weight in the form of Ezio and all his gear. When they get to the bottom of a long tunnel leading upwards, the other man drops him abruptly –-
“Watch out”
--and covers him with his own body as one of the walls collapse.
The rumbling is getting louder now, his companion is on top of him not moving, and Ezio is nowhere near close to full strength. Ezio pushes at his companion urgently, and lets out a breath when he sees the other man's eyes flutter.
“Luogo, fratello,” He orders, using the same tone that he would when issuing a command. The other man jerks to awareness. Ezio pulls them both to their feet, and together they start climbing up the slope, using the bits and pieces of the collapsed wall to help them up. When they reach the top, they are blocked once again by an impenetrable metal wall covered in first civilization script. There is a place for an apple to sit, recessed into the wall, and yet they have none.
There is the sound of a large explosion from behind them, and Ezio reaches forward, places his hand into the space the apple should go, and the wall shifts; splitting in two. He shoves the other assassin through and follows him, as behind them both the slope they just finished climbing falls away into the earth below.
The cave they end up in is trembling and collapsing under their very feet. They run, the both of them as fast as they can, trying to escape the heat and the light that follows them. When they reach the caves opening, Ezio sucks in a great breath and throws himself outside, onto the ground. The other assassin ends up besides him on the grass, breathing heavily. They both turn around in time to see the entrance to the cave collapse.
The sound is loud, so loud and Ezio covers his ears for what is probably only a minute, but it seems an eternity. It feels like the very ground might give way underneath them, and he forces himself to crawl forward, only sparing a quick look to ensure that the other assassin was doing so as well.
When he removes his hands, his ears are still ringing.
The other assassin rolls towards him, checking him for injuries, brushing dirt and bits of rock off of his robes. When he finds none, the other man turns back towards the cave, his face as pale as a ghost.
“Shit, shit, double shit, fuck... we are so very fucked. Not good... not fucking good at all.”
“Pace,” Ezio responds. He does not understand the other man, but he can see the panic in his eyes and in his actions, as the other man takes his short hair into his hands and pulls. He puts a hand on the other assassin's shoulder in a show of solidarity, and that seems to calm the other man down some.
Ezio points towards himself.
“Ezio Auditore. Li tuo nome?”
The other man takes a shuddering breath and turns his head away for a moment before answering.
“Ah... shit... I knew I should have paid better attention... Il nome mio... Desmond Miles.. I think that's how you say it, yeah... shit...”
The Italian is forced, and heavy with an unfamiliar accent. But Ezio understands. He knows the name, has heard it before. Minerva had said the name Desmond, just before he woke up here, wherever here is.
He looks at Desmond's attire, and modifies the thought. He heard the name Desmond, just before he woke up here, whenever here is.
Something pulls him towards Desmond, an impulse to reach and to touch, and he does not deny it. He reaches, brushes the side of the other man's face, touches his temple in a way that is almost intimate –
There is a rush of information that comes to him as the pads of his fingers make contact. Numbers fly through in his head, reawakening knowledge of a language that he did not know that he knew. One that he had never bothered to learn in life. He almost pulls his hand away in shock, but then there is more information that comes, and he forces himself to maintain the connection. They are his memories, and yet not his. They are memories of a future, of his future, which had not yet come to pass for him, but he feels them as if they had. The memories come at a dizzying rate; he can't make sense of them. People he had not met fly before him in his head, followed by emotions that he had yet to feel. His wife. His children. His own death. It is dizzying, terrifying, and he cannot break away --
Other lives follow. Other memories. Altair's. Connor's. Desmond's. Names – Shawn, William, Rebecca. Lucy. Regret, Sadness. He sees a sparkling city burn under the flames of the son and he understands Desmond's anguish, his despair and desperation. He sees Juno, sees the mania in her eyes, the hunger.
He knows why he is here. He is not enough, he has never been enough, he has only been a messenger.
Desmond is a messenger as well, he realizes. The memories slowly taper off. When they are done, Desmond falls to the ground, out cold. Ezio feels himself slipping as well. The heavy fog of unconsciousness slips in and for a while, he knows no more.