Desmond was already in the bed when Shaun came back in. He smiled at the British man and settled down as he crawled in. The prophet wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, breathing deep.
“How are you handling all of this?”
“Pretty good. Aside from the trip-up with the kid, things haven’t been too bad.”
Shaun turned to face him. “Are you sure?”
He smiled. “Yeah. Their still nothing compared to when I haven’t taken them.”
He fell asleep shortly after.
The next morning had him stumbling out the door, clutching his nose as if it were broke. He was cursing as he turned and fled from the house and shouted at some person who he ran into before pushing them out of the way. He slashed at a Templar goon as he staggered around, making his way to the center, yelling back at his pursuer. He cried out in pain when a gunshot pierced his lung, and he fell to his knees, gripping at the hole in his chest as he fought to stay awake. He watched the blood drip from his nose, large, fat drops to feed the hungry earth, and he briefly thought that he wasn’t going to make it. He heard a familiar voice call to him, and he reached out, grabbing the nearest shirt as he whispered, “Leonardo,” and passed out.
When he woke next, Shaun was hovering over him, looking considerably concerned, and he blinked at the feeling of the water being spread over his face. He gripped his head and leaned back, complaining to Shaun about his head and chest hurting.
“I’m not surprised, Desmond, but can you speak English?”
He blinked and looked around at the mass of faces. So they weren’t in Rome.
“No, we’re not. I need you to try to remember English. Not Italian.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Dove—W-Where we are?”
“Texas, Desmond. In the United States of America. Remember, Desmond?”
“D-Desm—She called me that in the room of the Apple.”
“Yes, that’s your name, Desmond Miles.”
“Des-mond M-ile-s.” The words were familiar, but they felt foreign, heavy and thick upon his tongue as if he were a child learning to read.
“Yes, that’s your name.”
He curled forward as things started to come back to him. “I feel like I’ve been shot.”
“I do believe that’s what you thought happened. I think you shouted that Cesare got you.”
“I did?”
“Yes, now, take your medications. I’ve gotten permission to increase the distribution to three times every twenty-four hours.”
He reached out and gripped onto Shaun’s shirt lightly, still holding his head with one hand. “H-how… why?”
“I don’t know, Desmond, but your medications aren’t working as well.”
He slowly remembered himself as he was forced to swallow the horse pills and rise. The small town was gathered, seemingly curious, as he looked around.
“He’s not here.”
“I told him to stay back in the house so it wouldn’t make the Bleeding Effect worse.”
Desmond leaned heavily on Shaun the entire way back to the house. When he staggered through the door, after Shaun had him lay on the couch, he could hear Shaun and Ezio talking in the kitchen as he closed his eyes.
“Is it okay to see him?”
“I would give him another ten minutes or so to let the medications begin working.”
There was silence.
“I am sorry I did not step in sooner.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize too.”
There was more silence—a longer silence.
“I know.”
He heard Shaun come walking out.
“I’ve got you some breakfast. You need something in your belly, Desmond.”
The only answer he dignified it with was a grunt. Shaun sighed, and he heard the plate get set lightly down on the table.
Solitary Spectors pt 4 [1/2]
“How are you handling all of this?”
“Pretty good. Aside from the trip-up with the kid, things haven’t been too bad.”
Shaun turned to face him. “Are you sure?”
He smiled. “Yeah. Their still nothing compared to when I haven’t taken them.”
He fell asleep shortly after.
The next morning had him stumbling out the door, clutching his nose as if it were broke. He was cursing as he turned and fled from the house and shouted at some person who he ran into before pushing them out of the way. He slashed at a Templar goon as he staggered around, making his way to the center, yelling back at his pursuer. He cried out in pain when a gunshot pierced his lung, and he fell to his knees, gripping at the hole in his chest as he fought to stay awake. He watched the blood drip from his nose, large, fat drops to feed the hungry earth, and he briefly thought that he wasn’t going to make it. He heard a familiar voice call to him, and he reached out, grabbing the nearest shirt as he whispered, “Leonardo,” and passed out.
When he woke next, Shaun was hovering over him, looking considerably concerned, and he blinked at the feeling of the water being spread over his face. He gripped his head and leaned back, complaining to Shaun about his head and chest hurting.
“I’m not surprised, Desmond, but can you speak English?”
He blinked and looked around at the mass of faces. So they weren’t in Rome.
“No, we’re not. I need you to try to remember English. Not Italian.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Dove—W-Where we are?”
“Texas, Desmond. In the United States of America. Remember, Desmond?”
“D-Desm—She called me that in the room of the Apple.”
“Yes, that’s your name, Desmond Miles.”
“Des-mond M-ile-s.” The words were familiar, but they felt foreign, heavy and thick upon his tongue as if he were a child learning to read.
“Yes, that’s your name.”
He curled forward as things started to come back to him. “I feel like I’ve been shot.”
“I do believe that’s what you thought happened. I think you shouted that Cesare got you.”
“I did?”
“Yes, now, take your medications. I’ve gotten permission to increase the distribution to three times every twenty-four hours.”
He reached out and gripped onto Shaun’s shirt lightly, still holding his head with one hand. “H-how… why?”
“I don’t know, Desmond, but your medications aren’t working as well.”
He slowly remembered himself as he was forced to swallow the horse pills and rise. The small town was gathered, seemingly curious, as he looked around.
“He’s not here.”
“I told him to stay back in the house so it wouldn’t make the Bleeding Effect worse.”
Desmond leaned heavily on Shaun the entire way back to the house. When he staggered through the door, after Shaun had him lay on the couch, he could hear Shaun and Ezio talking in the kitchen as he closed his eyes.
“Is it okay to see him?”
“I would give him another ten minutes or so to let the medications begin working.”
There was silence.
“I am sorry I did not step in sooner.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize too.”
There was more silence—a longer silence.
“I know.”
He heard Shaun come walking out.
“I’ve got you some breakfast. You need something in your belly, Desmond.”
The only answer he dignified it with was a grunt. Shaun sighed, and he heard the plate get set lightly down on the table.