He gasped, his entire upper body lifting off the bed before falling back with a soft thump. Desmond opened his eyes, blinking them shut just as quickly. The room he was in was bright, the sun shining through unshuttered windows.
Deciding against opening his eyes again so soon, he tried to determine what exactly he was lying on. The sheets felt rough, but moved easily under his touch. He briefly considered a hospital, but the thickness of the sheets was far cry from hospital issue. Besides, he considered, the fact that he would have been connected to any known number of beeping machines.
Desmond let his hand fall limp under the blankets. The only other place he could think of was Abstergo. Weeks of being their prisoner and sleeping in their cell of a room had made him very accustomed to their bedding arrangements. And if Abstergo had him, it could only spell bad news for his future.
The future. If he was alive, it meant that the solution hadn’t worked. The world had burned, and he was still alive. Desmond felt his heartbeat speed up, the visions Minerva had shown him dancing behind his closed lids. His breathing hitched, his hands curling into fists.
“Be calm.”
Desmond froze at the familiar voice. Light footsteps came and stood at his bedside as Desmond cautiously opened his eyes. Blinking to adjust them to the light, he turned and stared into the face of a man who had been dead for centuries.
“You are safe, Desmond,” Connor said. “Rest now. Your body is still recovering.”
“Did it work?” he asked. His voice sounded strange to his ears, the words coming out throaty and flat. Connor nodded.
“Rest,” he told him. Desmond found himself heeding his ancestor’s words, his eyes falling shut once more. In what seemed like barely a second, he opened them again. The light was not as bright as it had been when he first awoke. Judging by the fading red streaks and gathering darkness outside the windows, he guessed that it had been only a few hours since he had fallen asleep. Desmond pushed himself up onto his forearms, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The room was easily recognizable, from the chess board on the coffee table to the stuffed eagle between the windows.
Desmond slid out from between the sheets, surprised at the the soft cotton texture compared to the rough ones from earlier. The wooden floorboards of the room were cold to his bare feet, but not uncomfortably so as he sat on the edge of the bed. He stood up slowly, the room spinning slightly as he got his bearings. Desmond crossed the room and peered out the window. The small draft from it made him shiver in his t-shirt and sweatpants, but confirmed what he had thought.
“The view is different from when I was a young man,” Connor said, silently padding up next to him. Desmond flinched, not used to people sneaking up on him. “I am glad you are awake.”
“I was only asleep for a few hours,” Desmond said.
“Half a month, actually,” another voice corrected him. Desmond whirled around, falling into a defensive posture. Two more familiar men stood in the doorway, each of them looking amused at his reaction in their own way.
“Safety and peace,” Altair said. He stepped forward, extending a hand towards Desmond.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Desmond said. Ezio laughed and stepped forward, clapping Altair on the shoulder.
“Finally,” he said, “something the all of us understand.”
“I have offered to-,” Connor began. Ezio waved him off.
“I will have to take you up on the offer, since I’m the only one who didn't understand you earlier,” Ezio agreed.
“How is this happening?” Desmond asked, drawing their attention back to him. His defensive posture had fallen, though his fists were still clenched at his sides. “You’re dead, all of you,” he said. He paused as soon as the words left his mouth, considering them. “I’m supposed to be dead,” he added. “Is this some sort of fucked up heaven bullshit?”
Altair cracked a grin at his outburst. “This is not the afterlife.”
“Then how are you here?” Desmond asked. “How the fuck am I still alive?”
“You were not when we found you,” Connor said. He motioned for Desmond to take a seat. He did, cradling his head in his hands.
“I sure as hell feel like I’m alive,” Desmond argued.
“You are,” Ezio told him. Desmond managed to glare at him Ezio held up his hands in a placating manner. He looked to Altair, who took a seat across from Desmond. He considered the half-played game in front of him, before capturing a pawn with another, holding the captured pawn in his hands.
“What do you know about the Pieces of Eden?” he asked.
“They’re artifacts made by Those Who Came Before,” Desmond said. “Failed solutions to stop the world from burning.”
“Terrible and beautiful artifacts,” Ezio agreed, “that hold a secret.”
“What, cheating death?”
“Immortality,” Connor said, coming to the board and moving a knight.
“Even for all my time spent studying the Apple, I did not realize this,” Altair said.
“I-Ezio saw your corpse,” Desmond replied.
“An illusion,” Ezio said. He looked over Altair’s shoulder, before reaching and moving a bishop to counter Connor.
“I spent two hundred and fifty three years in the Vault,” Altair said. “I merely wanted to see what you would do.”
“You attempted to kill me!”
“I did not succeed,” Altair reminded him. “Even with my return to my prime, I still thought to fight like my older self.”
“So, what, the Apple made you younger?” Desmond asked. “You don’t look as old as Ezio saw you.”
“I was twenty-six when I first used my Piece of Eden,” Altair said. He reached across the board and moved a rook to capture Ezio’s bishop. “Ezio was thirty, Connor thirty-two. The Pieces took an imprint of us at the age when we first used them, and returned us to that age when we died.”
“So I’m going to be twenty-five for eternity?” Desmond asked, looking up from his hands.
“Yes,” Connor said, moving a pawn to protect Ezio’s bishop.
“The Pieces of Eden seek out complements,” Ezio said, moving a pawn to threaten Connor’s knight. “I suppose you could say they seek guardians.”
“But I had your Apple,” Desmond said, watching their strange game of chess.
“The Apple did not-,” Ezio paused, searching for the right term, “ did not resonate with me. The Staff did, although it was lost to me for many years.”
“Did They know about this?” Desmond asked.
“No,” Altair said. He considered the board for a moment and then moved his queen to capture Connor’s knight. “Or else they would have destroyed them. Humanity should never have the chance to challenge to their gods.”
“But Minerva and Jupiter-”
“Would have shared that belief, much as they would deny it,” Altair said. “If They could have saved Themselves, have no doubt that humanity would have been nothing more than a race of slaves.”
“How did Juno not see it, then?” Desmond asked. “Or Minerva? She said she had seen the future if I hadn’t done it. Wouldn’t she have seen me living?”
“They would not have,” Ezio said. He moved from where he was standing behind Altair’s chair to sit beside the board. He picked up a pawn and moved it to threaten Altair’s queen.
“Until you died, you appeared as any other human,” Connor said, mirroring Ezio on the other side of the table. He moved another knight and took Ezio’s pawn, freeing Altair’s queen.
“When you died, it triggered your Apple,” Altair said. “It began to bring you back. To heal you.”
“Heal me?”
“We found you a few days after you died,” Ezio said. “You were like a burnt husk, your eyes black cinders, your skin flaking away.”
“We thought you might not return,” Connor added.
“It took you a month to begin breathing again, a month from then to wake up for the first time. Half a month from that day to today.”
“It’s only been a few hours,” Desmond said, gesturing towards the windows. “You’re telling me it's been weeks?”
“Healing takes time,” Connor said, not looking up from the board.
“And now what?” Desmond asked. “Juno’s out there. I have to stop her.”
“You need to, or you feel obligated to?” Altair asked, looking up from the game.
“Both,” Desmond retorted. “She’s going to take over the world.”
Altair sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “And do you know how she is planning on doing this? Her methods? Or are you planning on rushing in and revealing your survival, spoiling any hope of a surprise attack?” When Desmond did not respond, he continued. “The Animus may have given you access to our skills, but you are still no better than a novice.”
“So I’m just supposed to let her take over?” Desmond asked. “Let her win?”
“No,” Connor said. “But you must seek patience. Juno has played a long game. We have time before she begins to move in earnest.”
“And we will use that time wisely,” Ezio assured him. “As Altair said, for all the skills you possess, you do not know how to use them to their fullest potential.”
“We will train you,” Altair said. He tossed his pawn at Desmond, who snatched it out of the air. “We will give you the knowledge of how to be a Master in form as well as name.”
Citadel 1/?
He gasped, his entire upper body lifting off the bed before falling back with a soft thump. Desmond opened his eyes, blinking them shut just as quickly. The room he was in was bright, the sun shining through unshuttered windows.
Deciding against opening his eyes again so soon, he tried to determine what exactly he was lying on. The sheets felt rough, but moved easily under his touch. He briefly considered a hospital, but the thickness of the sheets was far cry from hospital issue. Besides, he considered, the fact that he would have been connected to any known number of beeping machines.
Desmond let his hand fall limp under the blankets. The only other place he could think of was Abstergo. Weeks of being their prisoner and sleeping in their cell of a room had made him very accustomed to their bedding arrangements. And if Abstergo had him, it could only spell bad news for his future.
The future. If he was alive, it meant that the solution hadn’t worked. The world had burned, and he was still alive. Desmond felt his heartbeat speed up, the visions Minerva had shown him dancing behind his closed lids. His breathing hitched, his hands curling into fists.
“Be calm.”
Desmond froze at the familiar voice. Light footsteps came and stood at his bedside as Desmond cautiously opened his eyes. Blinking to adjust them to the light, he turned and stared into the face of a man who had been dead for centuries.
“You are safe, Desmond,” Connor said. “Rest now. Your body is still recovering.”
“Did it work?” he asked. His voice sounded strange to his ears, the words coming out throaty and flat. Connor nodded.
“Rest,” he told him. Desmond found himself heeding his ancestor’s words, his eyes falling shut once more. In what seemed like barely a second, he opened them again.
The light was not as bright as it had been when he first awoke. Judging by the fading red streaks and gathering darkness outside the windows, he guessed that it had been only a few hours since he had fallen asleep. Desmond pushed himself up onto his forearms, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The room was easily recognizable, from the chess board on the coffee table to the stuffed eagle between the windows.
Desmond slid out from between the sheets, surprised at the the soft cotton texture compared to the rough ones from earlier. The wooden floorboards of the room were cold to his bare feet, but not uncomfortably so as he sat on the edge of the bed. He stood up slowly, the room spinning slightly as he got his bearings. Desmond crossed the room and peered out the window. The small draft from it made him shiver in his t-shirt and sweatpants, but confirmed what he had thought.
“The view is different from when I was a young man,” Connor said, silently padding up next to him. Desmond flinched, not used to people sneaking up on him. “I am glad you are awake.”
“I was only asleep for a few hours,” Desmond said.
“Half a month, actually,” another voice corrected him. Desmond whirled around, falling into a defensive posture. Two more familiar men stood in the doorway, each of them looking amused at his reaction in their own way.
“Safety and peace,” Altair said. He stepped forward, extending a hand towards Desmond.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Desmond said. Ezio laughed and stepped forward, clapping Altair on the shoulder.
“Finally,” he said, “something the all of us understand.”
“I have offered to-,” Connor began. Ezio waved him off.
“I will have to take you up on the offer, since I’m the only one who didn't understand you earlier,” Ezio agreed.
“How is this happening?” Desmond asked, drawing their attention back to him. His defensive posture had fallen, though his fists were still clenched at his sides. “You’re dead, all of you,” he said. He paused as soon as the words left his mouth, considering them. “I’m supposed to be dead,” he added. “Is this some sort of fucked up heaven bullshit?”
Altair cracked a grin at his outburst. “This is not the afterlife.”
“Then how are you here?” Desmond asked. “How the fuck am I still alive?”
“You were not when we found you,” Connor said. He motioned for Desmond to take a seat. He did, cradling his head in his hands.
“I sure as hell feel like I’m alive,” Desmond argued.
“You are,” Ezio told him. Desmond managed to glare at him Ezio held up his hands in a placating manner. He looked to Altair, who took a seat across from Desmond. He considered the half-played game in front of him, before capturing a pawn with another, holding the captured pawn in his hands.
“What do you know about the Pieces of Eden?” he asked.
“They’re artifacts made by Those Who Came Before,” Desmond said. “Failed solutions to stop the world from burning.”
“Terrible and beautiful artifacts,” Ezio agreed, “that hold a secret.”
“What, cheating death?”
“Immortality,” Connor said, coming to the board and moving a knight.
“Even for all my time spent studying the Apple, I did not realize this,” Altair said.
“I-Ezio saw your corpse,” Desmond replied.
“An illusion,” Ezio said. He looked over Altair’s shoulder, before reaching and moving a bishop to counter Connor.
“I spent two hundred and fifty three years in the Vault,” Altair said. “I merely wanted to see what you would do.”
“You attempted to kill me!”
“I did not succeed,” Altair reminded him. “Even with my return to my prime, I still thought to fight like my older self.”
“So, what, the Apple made you younger?” Desmond asked. “You don’t look as old as Ezio saw you.”
“I was twenty-six when I first used my Piece of Eden,” Altair said. He reached across the board and moved a rook to capture Ezio’s bishop. “Ezio was thirty, Connor thirty-two. The Pieces took an imprint of us at the age when we first used them, and returned us to that age when we died.”
“So I’m going to be twenty-five for eternity?” Desmond asked, looking up from his hands.
“Yes,” Connor said, moving a pawn to protect Ezio’s bishop.
“The Pieces of Eden seek out complements,” Ezio said, moving a pawn to threaten Connor’s knight. “I suppose you could say they seek guardians.”
“But I had your Apple,” Desmond said, watching their strange game of chess.
“The Apple did not-,” Ezio paused, searching for the right term, “ did not resonate with me. The Staff did, although it was lost to me for many years.”
“Did They know about this?” Desmond asked.
“No,” Altair said. He considered the board for a moment and then moved his queen to capture Connor’s knight. “Or else they would have destroyed them. Humanity should never have the chance to challenge to their gods.”
“But Minerva and Jupiter-”
“Would have shared that belief, much as they would deny it,” Altair said.
“If They could have saved Themselves, have no doubt that humanity would have been nothing more than a race of slaves.”
“How did Juno not see it, then?” Desmond asked. “Or Minerva? She said she had seen the future if I hadn’t done it. Wouldn’t she have seen me living?”
“They would not have,” Ezio said. He moved from where he was standing behind Altair’s chair to sit beside the board. He picked up a pawn and moved it to threaten Altair’s queen.
“Until you died, you appeared as any other human,” Connor said, mirroring Ezio on the other side of the table. He moved another knight and took Ezio’s pawn, freeing Altair’s queen.
“When you died, it triggered your Apple,” Altair said. “It began to bring you back. To heal you.”
“Heal me?”
“We found you a few days after you died,” Ezio said. “You were like a burnt husk, your eyes black cinders, your skin flaking away.”
“We thought you might not return,” Connor added.
“It took you a month to begin breathing again, a month from then to wake up for the first time. Half a month from that day to today.”
“It’s only been a few hours,” Desmond said, gesturing towards the windows. “You’re telling me it's been weeks?”
“Healing takes time,” Connor said, not looking up from the board.
“And now what?” Desmond asked. “Juno’s out there. I have to stop her.”
“You need to, or you feel obligated to?” Altair asked, looking up from the game.
“Both,” Desmond retorted. “She’s going to take over the world.”
Altair sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “And do you know how she is planning on doing this? Her methods? Or are you planning on rushing in and revealing your survival, spoiling any hope of a surprise attack?” When Desmond did not respond, he continued. “The Animus may have given you access to our skills, but you are still no better than a novice.”
“So I’m just supposed to let her take over?” Desmond asked. “Let her win?”
“No,” Connor said. “But you must seek patience. Juno has played a long game. We have time before she begins to move in earnest.”
“And we will use that time wisely,” Ezio assured him. “As Altair said, for all the skills you possess, you do not know how to use them to their fullest potential.”
“We will train you,” Altair said. He tossed his pawn at Desmond, who snatched it out of the air. “We will give you the knowledge of how to be a Master in form as well as name.”
“And then what?” Desmond asked.
“We hunt,” Connor said.