She feels helpless and frustrated. They are losing Desmond and she knows there’s nothing they can do to stop it. Even if he never went back into the Animus, at this point, the side effects have started to show and more than likely they’ll continue, not go away. She tells Rebecca they have to just get through it but that doesn’t make it hurt less when she wakes in the middle of the night and hears him screaming. No one will talk about it, either, and somehow that makes it worse. Desmond tries to stay optimistic but she’s seen the way his gaze will shift to the side and knows he’s not in this time anymore.
She’s taken up the habit of watching over him some nights. She stands in the doorway of his room and just waits, wondering if tonight will be another round of night terrors. Sometimes he does nothing, just lies there peacefully and she wonders if he dreams at all on those nights. Other nights are less restful, like this one, when he tosses and turns, face contorted in a grimace. She knows you’re not supposed to wake sleepwalkers suddenly but she doesn’t know what the rule is for nightmares. Whatever it is, it’s probably a completely different case when the person in question is not so much dreaming as re-living. Still, when he whimpers she finds herself walking over to kneel beside him.
He’s whispering something and she realizes it’s Arabic, which is a surprise. Most of the Bleeding Effect had been from Ezio, especially since coming to Monteriggioni. Her Arabic was never very good—thanks to the Animus translator doing all the work—but she thinks he’s saying, “The children, the children” over and over. She reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder and with a gasp that startles both of them, he wakes up. As he looks around the room quickly, his left hand clenching instinctively to release the blade he’s not wearing, Lucy realizes it’s still not Desmond. Even so, when he sees her, he relaxes a little. A rapid string of Arabic falls effortlessly from his lips and Lucy catches a couple of key words that let her guess he was asking after the children.
“It’s all right,” she says and then feels a pang of guilt. Should she go along with his delusion? She opts for something vague. “You’re all right.” He nods and seems to relax completely then and she thinks it would be funny if it weren’t so eerie how he can somehow know both Arabic and English when channeling his ancestor. He says something but this time she doesn’t follow as well, catching only “apple” and “fire”. He reaches out to pull her close and as they hug, she feels him trembling. Whatever Altair saw, it had shaken him, a feat Lucy didn’t think possible. The man had always seemed so aloof in the memories they’d viewed at Abstergo. Only the Codex pages Ezio had found had revealed more insight into the Grand Master of the Assassins. Eventually, his shaking ceases but he doesn’t release her, even though she’s practically sitting in his lap.
She doesn’t protest when he whispers, “Maria” against her neck and presses a kiss to her skin, shifting to roll her onto her back and then taking her mouth in a desperate kiss. His hands begin roaming with a confidence that surprises her but then she reminds herself this isn’t the shy new recruit anymore, is it? As clothes begin to come off—strange how modern-day inventions like the zipper and the bra don’t wake Desmond from his ancestor’s control—she thinks, ironically, “I’m about to re-enact the creation of the first descendant,” and then, “This is wrong,” but she knows she won’t stop him. She’s falling in love with this charming, funny, sweet, broken man in what must be the opposite of Stockholm syndrome. She had resisted before because of warnings from higher up not to get too close, but now those warnings seem far away and not very important.
Fill - Harbor 1/2
She feels helpless and frustrated. They are losing Desmond and she knows there’s nothing they can do to stop it. Even if he never went back into the Animus, at this point, the side effects have started to show and more than likely they’ll continue, not go away. She tells Rebecca they have to just get through it but that doesn’t make it hurt less when she wakes in the middle of the night and hears him screaming. No one will talk about it, either, and somehow that makes it worse. Desmond tries to stay optimistic but she’s seen the way his gaze will shift to the side and knows he’s not in this time anymore.
She’s taken up the habit of watching over him some nights. She stands in the doorway of his room and just waits, wondering if tonight will be another round of night terrors. Sometimes he does nothing, just lies there peacefully and she wonders if he dreams at all on those nights. Other nights are less restful, like this one, when he tosses and turns, face contorted in a grimace. She knows you’re not supposed to wake sleepwalkers suddenly but she doesn’t know what the rule is for nightmares. Whatever it is, it’s probably a completely different case when the person in question is not so much dreaming as re-living. Still, when he whimpers she finds herself walking over to kneel beside him.
He’s whispering something and she realizes it’s Arabic, which is a surprise. Most of the Bleeding Effect had been from Ezio, especially since coming to Monteriggioni. Her Arabic was never very good—thanks to the Animus translator doing all the work—but she thinks he’s saying, “The children, the children” over and over. She reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder and with a gasp that startles both of them, he wakes up. As he looks around the room quickly, his left hand clenching instinctively to release the blade he’s not wearing, Lucy realizes it’s still not Desmond. Even so, when he sees her, he relaxes a little. A rapid string of Arabic falls effortlessly from his lips and Lucy catches a couple of key words that let her guess he was asking after the children.
“It’s all right,” she says and then feels a pang of guilt. Should she go along with his delusion? She opts for something vague. “You’re all right.” He nods and seems to relax completely then and she thinks it would be funny if it weren’t so eerie how he can somehow know both Arabic and English when channeling his ancestor. He says something but this time she doesn’t follow as well, catching only “apple” and “fire”. He reaches out to pull her close and as they hug, she feels him trembling. Whatever Altair saw, it had shaken him, a feat Lucy didn’t think possible. The man had always seemed so aloof in the memories they’d viewed at Abstergo. Only the Codex pages Ezio had found had revealed more insight into the Grand Master of the Assassins. Eventually, his shaking ceases but he doesn’t release her, even though she’s practically sitting in his lap.
She doesn’t protest when he whispers, “Maria” against her neck and presses a kiss to her skin, shifting to roll her onto her back and then taking her mouth in a desperate kiss. His hands begin roaming with a confidence that surprises her but then she reminds herself this isn’t the shy new recruit anymore, is it? As clothes begin to come off—strange how modern-day inventions like the zipper and the bra don’t wake Desmond from his ancestor’s control—she thinks, ironically, “I’m about to re-enact the creation of the first descendant,” and then, “This is wrong,” but she knows she won’t stop him. She’s falling in love with this charming, funny, sweet, broken man in what must be the opposite of Stockholm syndrome. She had resisted before because of warnings from higher up not to get too close, but now those warnings seem far away and not very important.