asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2010-09-13 08:44 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2010-09-13 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.2
Fill Only
Fill Only
Welcome to the Brotherhood
∆ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
∆ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
∆ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
∆ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
∆ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
∆ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
∆ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Fill [3/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-24 06:53 am (UTC)(link)--
And then, on the screen, Ezio suffered a blow to the face - something that happened often enough that it would have hardly merited attention, had Desmond's nose not abruptly spouted a fountain of blood.
"Holy--" Shaun sputtered, jumping back in shock. "Bloody hell!" Desmond's head leaned slightly to a side, the blood coursing down his face in a steady, lazy trail. Shaun had never seen this happen before, and fumbled about looking for something to stem the flow, hands shaking.
"'Becca!" He hissed as he dove through his things, seeking a kleenex. "Rebecca!"
"Hngh?" the engineer muttered unintelligently, slowly lifting her head from her sleeping bag some feet away. "Was'wrong?"
"Desmond's bleeding all over the place!" Shaun exclaimed frantically, awkwardly piling several sheets of kleenex on Desmond's face and scrubbing, trying to wipe the blood away. "It's like he took the blow Ezio got in real time!"
"What!?" Rebecca shot up, startled. "I'll turn the animus off!"
"Be careful!" Shaun warned, worried. "If we jerk him out before he's ready--"
"If we leave him in any longer, his brain will fry off!" Rebecca snarled, typing away without a trace of bleariness. "What if Ezio gets stabbed!?"
"Stay with us, Desmond," Shaun found himself saying quickly, knowing he was saying it more for his own benefit. "You're almost out."
Rebecca forced Desmond to desynchronize, and shut off the machine. The abruptness of the exit had Desmond's eyes snapping open, still half-within the constraints of Ezio's mind. Immediately, the man howled something in Italian -- some expression of shock or confusion, ripping out the needle in his arm and scrabbling off the animus, shoving Shaun out of the way in the process.
"Bloody hell!"
"Desmond!" Rebecca cried shrilly.
"Dove sono?" Desmond snarled, his eyes moving around wildly, his stance feral and ready to strike or flee at any moment. "Chi son?"
"Desmond, you bleeding twat!" Shaun screamed. "Wake the fuck up!"
Desmond hissed as the blood coursing down his face trickled down to his clothes, his hands vaguely attempting to stop the flow. He was cursing in a steady stream of Italian, stumbling around the room in confusion, crashing over Lucy's desk and finding himself face planting on the floor.
"Merda!" the man howled, his limbs feeling like jello. "Che diavolo e tutto questo!?" He leapt to his feet and, seeing how close Shaun had gotten, tackled Shaun to the ground, ready to assassinate him. Only to realize he had no blade strapped to his arm -- Lucy had taken it from Desmond, to take as a defense measure. Rebecca was screaming something in the background, likely calling Lucy frantically
Desmond and Shaun rolled around, struggling, but Desmond was in no condition to fight. Shaun found it surprisingly easy to overpower Desmond, flipping him and pushing his head to the ground, locking his knees at Desmond's sides to keep him from moving. He was shocked (and, dare he say it, rather horrified) at how skinny Desmond felt between his legs.
Fill [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-24 09:01 am (UTC)(link)"Desmond, Desmond buddy, it's me, Shaun," he said loudly, hoarsely, shaking Desmond's shoulder with his free hand. "Wake up, Desmond, please."
"Lucy's on her way," Rebecca said, shaken, a few feet away. As if she couldn't bring herself to come any closer. As if she couldn't face what they'd all allowed Desmond to become.
Shaun's face was hidden by his fringe and glasses, beads of what Rebecca thought were sweat trailing down his cheek, and down his neck. His ears were red from the exertion it took to keep Desmond down, and his arms were shaking. Below him, Desmond was still flailing, but his movements were slowing, jerky-like, akin to death throes. A broken string of Italian was steadily leaving him like a breathless exhale, but it was muffled and nasal-sounding through the blood clogging Desmond's nose.
"I'm sorry, Desmond," Shaun's words were so quiet, Rebecca just barely heard them before Shaun hit the back of Desmond's neck with a swift and accurate chop, dropping him like a stone.
"What are you doing!" the frazzle-haired engineer cried.
"What else did you bloody want me to do!" Shaun yelled at her, and Rebecca inhaled sharply, seeing his furious, tear-streaked eyes.
"...help me lift him up onto the Animus," she said softly.
"What! Are you barking mad!" Shaun hissed, voice cracking. "You want to put him in, again!?"
"Of course not!" Rebecca snapped. "But we need to check him for injuries, to see if getting hit as Ezio didn't transfer as more than just a nosebleed! And unless you want to lift him up onto a desk filled with books and papers...!"
Shaun grit his teeth, but could not argue. He hardly wanted to leave Desmond on the floor, either, considering how cold and dirty it was. With a tight nod, together, Rebecca and Shaun hefted Desmond up and crab-walked over to the Animus. It was a silent affair, both stunned and horrified silent by how light Desmond seemed between the two of them. His body was thin and lifeless, weighing much less than Shaun would have expected of a male of his age. From Rebecca's troubled gaze, Shaun knew she was thinking the same thing.
Desmond's nosebleed had trickled off, but there was still a rather sizable smear of drying blood across his face. Rebecca busied himself with rubbing it off gently, flecks coating her fingernails despite the barrier of kleenex. Shaun, for his part, unzipped Desmond's hoodie and pulled up his shirt, inspecting him for injuries.
"'Becca, look," Shaun's voice shook, quiet.
"Oh man," Rebecca whispered. "What the hell..?"
There was a myriad of bruises peppering his chest, in varying degrees of green and purple, disappearing down his naval. Before, Shaun might have dismissed them as a result of an accidental fall while free running, or perhaps running into the corner of a desk -- and, surely, some of these were because of such things -- but there were a select few that looked precisely fist-shaped. And either Desmond was unconsciously punching himself (unlikely), or Desmond's synchronization with his ancestor had finally reached a level none of them would have ever expected.
"'Becca, this is killing him," Shaun said, low and with certainty.
Re: Fill [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-24 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-24 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)Fill [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 01:29 am (UTC)(link)--
Lucy arrived within minutes, face flushed and eyes round with worry. Rebecca quietly filled her in with what had happened while Shaun took it upon himself to scout out and identify all of Desmond's injuries, rolling up sleeves and pant legs alike. He was no medic, but he didn't need doctor's eyes to know Desmond's body was pretty much a big collection of hurt. In places Shaun knew Ezio had gotten slashed recently, Desmond's kin was a vicious red, almost blistering, on the edge of tearing open.
Psychosomatic injuries, but the kind that might someday escalate to a certain death.
Lucy joined Shaun, her hair a mess. "How is he?" she whispered.
"I think this speaks for itself," Shaun said viciously, wanting to scream and cry all at once. "Don't you think?" As always, his frustration manifested itself by pushing those nearest to him away, like spines.
"Shaun!" Rebecca hissed. Shaun turned away bitterly, but did not apologize.
"Oh, Desmond," Lucy whimpered, and akin to the crumbling of a dam, tears flooded her eyes and coursed down one-by-one, like a countdown.
They patched up Desmond as best they could, silent between the three of them. Desmond's skin was loose in some places, his previously solid-looking muscles lax and tender from lack of use. When Shaun wrestled Desmond's shirt off to place some salve on a sizable strike near his heart, he resolved not to mention the fact that he could easily see a few of Desmond's ribs. It wasn't as if they couldn't see it for themselves.
Desmond started coming around some time after, startling the silence that had overtaken the three. A low groan was their first indication, to which Lucy shot up to her feet, eyes cloudy. Shaun, for his part, had his head buried in his hands, unmoving.
"We have to restrain him," she said quietly.
"What!" Shaun snapped, head coming up.
"If he still thinks he's Ezio, he'll be a danger to us, and to himself." Lucy's eyes were solemn, but her hands were quick in motion, finding a length of spare cable and wrapping Desmond's wrists together.
"Are you bloody well mad! He can barely move on his own!" Shaun yelled, his chair clattering behind him from the force of his rising. He grabbed Lucy's shoulder harshly, tugging her. "He's no danger to anyone!"
Rebecca looked troubled, hesitant to join in either side. "Guys," she whispered. "Maybe we should ask Desmond?"
"Shaun, you didn't deal with Subject 16 - even in a state of utter deterioration, he was quite capable of killing people. I cannot allow that to happen."
"So what - you're going to refer to him as Subject 17 now? Like some kind of bleeding animal? Like he's gone off the deep end already?"
Desmond had never seen Shaun look so angry.
"Stop it, you two!" Rebecca cried, desperately. "He can hear you!"
It was almost comical how fast their heads both snapped around to look down at Desmond, who merely blinked up at them blearily.
"Uh," Desmond said, hazily. "Hi?"
"Desmond!" Lucy cried, relieved. "Oh my god."
"What's going on?" Desmond asked. His voice was hoarse. "Where's my shirt?"
Shaun stared at him. "You don't remember?"
"Huh?" Desmond blinked. "Remember what? ...wait," he raised up his hands, which had been tied together. "Why am I tied up?"
"Desmond," Rebecca began, but trailed off. The three of them looked at each other with troubled gazes, the realization of Desmond's lack of memory a dense weight upon them all.
"I mean, it's kinky and all, but I'm kind of cold." Desmond grinned, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room.
"Sorry about that, Desmond," Lucy recovered quickly enough, untying his hands.
"Here's your shirt," Rebecca followed, which Desmond slipped on over his head gratefully.
Fill [6/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 01:30 am (UTC)(link)"Really?" He sputtered, and all three heads turned to look at him. Lucy's eyes were particularly hard, as if telling him to shut up. As if! "Are we really just going to ignore all of this happened!?"
"Shaun," Lucy's tone held a warning.
"It's fine," Desmond interrupted them, and his eyes were half-lidded, far too calm. Within their depths, Shaun would've sworn he saw a swirl of gold. "You can strap me to the Animus, if it makes you feel safer, Shaun."
Shaun sputtered a "that's not--!"
"We have to find the Apple before the Templars do," Desmond said, and his tone was heavy with finality. "None of us can afford any setbacks." He grinned, and it was so forced it was breaking Shaun's heart. "We're very close, I can feel it. I won't break before we get it."
"Have you all lost your minds!" Shaun's voice was so loud, the echoes reverberated back to him tenfold. "Can't you see what this is doing to him! At this rate, you will either die or go bloody berserk, you bleeding idiot!"
"I won't break before we get it," Desmond assured them again, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the Animus. "Rebecca, send me back inside."
"Desmond!" Shaun yelled, glasses askew. "Did you not hear what I said?"
"He's right," Lucy said, and her voice was so steely, Shaun knew she was probably a storm of emotions inside. But it did not deter him from feeling a horrendous slick of hate building up inside of him. "This is bigger than all of us. We cannot allow the Templars to get the location of the Apple before us. Rebecca?"
Rebecca looked lost, but she came forward anyway, needle shaking in her hand.
Shaun's lips flapped open and close, soundlessly. Grief, anger, frustration -- and, finally, resignation -- he threw his hands in the air, turned around and sat down on his seat, frame shuddering. "Do whatever you want," he hissed. What was left? Better to become utterly unattached, than care too much and break from the strain. He could do nothing but look at history, and see it repeat. Wasn't that the job of a Historian?
Rebecca's hands were shaking so much, she couldn't get the vein she needed. Desmond's arm was already ridden with holes from all the other times they'd pulled him under - a junkie's arm. Three pokes in, and she accidentally collapsed the vein, a purple bruise sure to form. "I'm so sorry," she said, shakily. "Oh god, Desmond, I'm so sorry."
All Subject 17 did was smile benignly, and offer up his other arm.
Fill [7/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 02:12 am (UTC)(link)And when Desmond was allowed to return to consciousness, he was hardly himself -- babbling in Italian mostly, sometimes Arabic, and a couple times, Shaun could swear he identified a variety of other languages being muttered under-breath. When taken out of the Animus, he always seemed desolate, angry, restless, wanting to move and run and fly -- but his body could not keep up with him, weak as it was, and they ultimately confined him to the seat so he wouldn't hurt himself. He soiled himself once, twice before Lucy went out and bought an ergonomic bedpan. She took it upon herself to clean it every six hours, perhaps as some sort of self-punishment in atonement for what she knew she was responsible for doing to Desmond.
Shaun, for his part, kept quiet. At this point, he could hardly blame Desmond for not making an appearance at the forefront of his waking moments, instead favouring taking a backseat to madness. Truth be told, Shaun would have done the same. He busied himself with aiding the other assassin teams, working the night shifts guarding Desmond to give Lucy some reprieve. The woman hardly slept as it was.
Rebecca modified the Animus to accommodate as Desmond's now permanent seat, adding a variety of supposed creature comforts like extra padding and a wider width, to allow a bit of movement. She also gave it four sturdy circular attachments, to cuff Desmond's hands and feet. His wrists quickly chaffed, and they had to add padding to the cuffs, too.
The memories of Desmond's chipper smile and stupid questions seemed so far away, now. In Desmond's place, Subject 17 was a frail, dying corpse. It was so ridiculous, Shaun laughed himself to tears one late night, his breath hitching oddly in places. He didn't even feel Rebecca's soft, hesitant hand on his shoulder, so busy he was trying not to choke himself from lack of air.
Subject 17's imprisonment was fully underway, Shaun thought to himself. Now they only needed to take his life. Abruptly before him, the computer screen bulged and blurred, and Shaun impatiently wiped away the tears. He had work to do.
And all the while Desmond was dying, Ezio grew closer and closer to the Apple. Until he finally found it.
Re: Fill [7/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 02:41 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill [7/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 04:37 am (UTC)(link)Fill [8/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 07:39 am (UTC)(link)Desmond was pale, unconscious, still strapped to the Animus 2.0 as he was loaded onto the vehicle. To Shaun, it seemed to him like he was already dead, and that bloody chair was his coffin. For all intents and purposes, considering Desmond's fractured and deteriorated state, it might as well have been deemed his deathbed.
"We have to go," Rebecca said softly, tugging his arm. Shaun had been staring at the empty space where the van had been minutes prior -- it had driven off, away, into the distance. Subject 17, or what was left of him, was no longer there.
"Yeah," Shaun said. "Duty calls."
Lucy said nothing, taking the wheel. They drove off, too.
It was laughable, really, what happened when they got to the vault under Santa Maria Aracoeli. It was all going well - Shaun had figured out the spoken password, 72, given Desmond's earlier remarks about the cryptic messages Ezio had left on the wall of the Villa Auditore. They had made their way down, discovering no enemies, no hidden traps. All the torture they'd put Desmond through had seemed like it had a meaning, the three of them feeling the excitement of being so close to the Apple, to being one step ahead of the Templars.
Until they were faced by a dead end. Only a descendant of the mixture of Those Who Came Before and a human could activate the steps leading to the Apple, and no amount of teamwork amongst the three of them allowed them to reach the middle platform, where the Apple sat. Shaun couldn't help it: he laughed. He laughed himself to tears. So much sacrifice to get so close, only to be thwarted by something so stupid.
They made their way out, and Shaun couldn't remember if they'd argued or yelled at each other, or simply walked in silence. They were still ahead of the Templars, who did not know the location of the Apple -- but, surely, they were not far behind. Who knew if they'd already captured a Subject 18 to continue with their experimentations? They had no inside men left, insofar as he was aware. What were they going to do now?
Go back to work, it seemed. Headquarters called Shaun back, to stay off the field and return to doing reconnoissance and support behind the scenes. Lucy was sent on another mission, perhaps an infiltration like her last job. Rebecca was given a team of engineers to construct a more efficient, less harmful version of the Animus. Were they going to stick more people inside that death machine?, Shaun thought, disgusted. How long was this going to go on? It was all futile. It was all futile.
And so they were separated. Shaun later learned by digging through some databases that Abstergo had indeed caught a new labrat, an unfortunate descendant of Ezio from a bastard line. The assassins, he read, were on the move to recover him, to use him to get the Apple. Was that it, then? Had Desmond so simply and so stupidly died, only to be replaced? Was that the fate of all those who walked in the shadows?
Shaun had nothing left to cry. He laughed.
And then, exactly a month after parting with Desmond, Shaun found him again.
--
A/N: You all are amazing <3 Thank you so much for still reading despite me deviating from the prompt and throwing ball after curve ball of angst at you ;; This story is almost finished! I predict another part or two :D
Re: Fill [8/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)omg omg omg anon I'm waiting very impatiently for this cause this is so awesome. Can't wait for the last bits!
Re: Fill [8/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)Fill [9/14]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:24 am (UTC)(link)--
Shaun wasn't a natural-born assassin, but he'd always had the ability to see how supposedly miscellaneous information fit together. It was like his very own Eagle Vision, except that instead of seeing the world in terms of ally or foe, he drew sense from raw data.
It hadn't been intentional, though he'd certainly been keeping an eye out for any mention of Desmond in all the emails he intercepted, Assassin or Templar. Higher-ups in Abstergo had a tendency to exchange sensitive information using rather abstract euphemisms -- for instance, whenever they were talking about Desmond, they would use the key word Martini. Haha, Shaun thought dryly. So clever.
Given these parameters, Shaun deduced that Abstergo had found intel that the Assassins were keeping him in a safe house somewhere, recovering. A prod in the right direction had Shaun understanding that the Assassins were helping Desmond recover because they had ulterior motives. Naturally, wanted to see if they could use him to get the Apple. Same as the Templars.
Shaun didn't know whether to be disgusted or understanding. What he did know was that he wanted to see Desmond again. To apologize? To sympathize? He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.
It should have been harder to find the safe house, but Shaun was rather talented at finding things. He Bcc'd Lucy and Rebecca in an email to the Assassins' Headquarters, inquiring to see if he could be allowed to visit Desmond. He also enumerated a rather long list of the cracks they had in their security, berating the idiots who didn't know how to encrypt their emails properly. Fortunately for him, Headquarters wasn't annoyed at him for prodding. They thanked him for the warnings, and informed him they were moving Desmond. They then added that he would be escorted to Desmond in two days' time.
Lucy immediately called him, after, angry at the approach he'd taken, telling him Headquarters could have easily taken his intrusion the wrong way. Then, after ranting for a long minute about his stupidity, she burst into tears and told him to say hello and sorry to Desmond for her. She was still on a mission, she said carefully, and could not abandon it halfway through. Shaun let this soak in. Considerably mellower, he assured her he would do that for her.
Just minutes after, Rebecca hacked into his computer and opened a chat window on his desktop, startling the shit out of him before he realized it was her. She excitedly told him she'd heard from Lucy and that she'd gone ahead and done her own digging, unbeknownst to their employers, and that insofar as she could tell, Desmond had been moved to X facility, not far from where Shaun was. She also sent him a compiled .pdf of the files they had on Desmond, revealing sensitive information that implied Desmond was not completely sane all the time, though he did have lucid periods.
Through a subsequent complicated string of text-based emoticons, Shaun deduced Rebecca was still upset about what they'd done to Desmond and wished she could be there to personally apologize. So, Shaun promised to say hello and sorry to Desmond for her, too. Rebecca replied " ^(TToTT)^!!! ty & gl bby~~!! m(__)m " and logged off.
Shaun was nervous as the weekend approached. He didn't know exactly what to expect, how the meeting would go. The files on Desmond were brief, there were no images to accompany the reports. What exactly did they mean by 'lucid periods'? Would he remember who Shaun was? Would Desmond blame them all, if he did? He spoke again to Lucy and Rebecca, and steeled his nerves.
A car came by for him on the designated day. They drove him to a nearby clinic: it was a shabby-looking thing from the outside. Inside it looked just as shabby. There was a trapdoor leading to a nasty-looking basement. There was a door there, which opened to a ridiculously pristine-looking hallway. Haha, Shaun thought again, dryly. Everyone's so fucking clever.
Fill [10/14]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:25 am (UTC)(link)"He's lucid, today," a new person popped in, smiling benignly. He barely registered it was a woman. Shaun wanted to punch her. He smiled caustically instead.
"Can I see him now, then?" He bit out around his teeth, forced grin in place.
"Yes," she beamed. "Follow me." Clearly she had no sense of self-preservation.
She led him to yet another door, which had a blank nameplate. Blank because Desmond was not supposed to exist? Blank because he had nothing left in his head? Shaun suppressed an urge to tear the plate off. Stay calm. Stay calm.
"He's inside," she said. "There's a mirror on the wall -- we can see in, from there, in case anything happens."
"Thank you," Shaun said tightly. So Desmond was under watch 24/7? It was like he was back at Abstergo, Shaun thought, bitterly. He'd left one cage to end up at another.
He wasn't expecting what he saw when he opened the door.
It was a decent-sized room, mostly white. One wall had a large mirror taking up most of the surface. There was a low bed in the corner, untouched. All the furniture was nailed to the floor.
And, some feet away, a shaggy head of dark brown hair was facing away from him, hands casually inside pant pockets.
"Desmond?" Shaun ventured, blinking.
"Shaun!" Desmond turned around at the sound, grinning. He'd been having a staring contest with the mirror-wall, it seemed. He was dressed in white slacks and a slim white shirt. He had no shoes, and his beard had been meticulously shaved off. His exposed arms revealed he was still thin and pale, but he was standing, and walking. "They told me you were coming to visit, and I could hardly stop myself from pacing a hole into the floor all day."
"You look good," Shaun said, stupidly.
"I feel much better," Desmond agreed, and scratched the back of his head. His knuckles had band-aids on them. "Do you mind if I hug you?"
Shaun blinked. "What," he heard himself saying, from afar.
"I haven't hugged anyone for a while," Desmond began, and then startled when he found himself being tackled by an armful of Shaun. "Gack!"
"You bloody - mad - bastard," Shaun heaved, his heart exploding through his chest. He hadn't realized it, but he was crying. He'd done a lot of that, lately. "I can't..." he shoved a startled Desmond back, holding him by the shoulders. "Why in hell's name did you do that to yourself?"
"Uh?" Desmond blinked.
"You thrice-damned martyr," Shaun yelled. All he could see in his mind's eye was an unconscious Desmond, wasting away: slowly, slowly, going mad. "You bloody idiot!"
"Sorry?" Desmond grinned, confused.
"Lucy and Rebecca feel terrible," Shaun heard himself saying, angrily. "They feel like murderers. I feel like a murderer!"
"You're not a murderer," Desmond said.
"You don't know that!" Shaun snarked. "You don't know anything! You're as smart as a bloody welcome mat!"
"Hey, now," Desmond frowned, crossing his arms. His god damn skinny arms.
"Look at you," Shaun said, bitterly, grabbing his shoulders.
"I thought you said I looked good," Desmond murmured.
"I thought you were dead," Shaun admitted, quietly. "Where have you been?"
Desmond looked up to the ceiling. "Here, mostly," he said mildly. "Or so they tell me."
Shaun looked up at him, silent, questioning. Or so they told him? Why? Because he was rarely 'lucid'?
"It's hard," Desmond began, avoiding Shaun's eyes. "I don't know where I am, sometimes."
"We did this to you," Shaun said, quietly. "We let this happen."
Desmond met his eyes then, and smiled. It looked genuine, and Shaun wanted to strangle some sense into this thick-headed, bloody retarded individual, who owned the biggest heart he'd ever known.
"It was worth it, wasn't it?" Desmond shrugged. "And, I'm okay. Mostly." He placed his hands on Shaun's elbows, as Shaun's arms were still extended between them, his hands tight on his shoulders. "I still remember how to mix a martini."
Fill [11/14]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:26 am (UTC)(link)"Y-yeah..." Shaun stumbled over his words, and jerked away from Desmond's grasp, feeling like he was the slime of the earth. "Yeah."
"Shaun?" Desmond said, worriedly.
"Will they let you leave?" Shaun asked, abruptly.
Desmond blinked, and looked to the mirror-wall. His gaze was rather grim. "They haven't, so far," he said dryly.
Shaun grabbed the side of Desmond's face, and drew him close. Desmond startled, wanting to draw back, but the look of Shaun's face had him stay still. "Shaun?" He ventured, hesitantly.
"Do you want to?" Shaun whispered, harshly. His glasses had fogged up. "Leave?"
"Is it safe?" Desmond asked, and Shaun didn't have the heart to ask for clarification -- whether Desmond believed it was safe for him, or for others.
"They will let you rot away here, in the name of your safety," Shaun said, quietly and quickly. In his chest, he felt a dense thickness descending, like terror. But this had been festering for months, with the realization that both sides cared little for the individual...and that he, himself, had begun to care for the individual far more than the whole. "They will only take you out to use you."
Desmond's eyes flickered between Shaun's eyes, back and forth, like indecision. "Shaun?" he tried again, his own voice a whisper. "What about you?"
Good old Desmond, Shaun thought, and instead of grief or the usual disdain, his heart flooded with fondness. Stop thinking about others, and start being selfish, will you?
"Desmond, are you in shape?" Shaun drew back, voice loud.
"Uh," Desmond seemed back to his usual, stupid self. Fabulous. "Not like I used to," he said. "But at least I'm not lying around all day."
"Good," Shaun said. "Let's run."
"Wha--" Desmond startled, and Shaun grabbed his hand like a vice, and fled out the door with him.
The effect was instantaneous. Voices exploded behind them in a flurry of panic, people from the room adjacent to Desmond's -- those who had been observing behind the mirror-wall -- flooding out like ants.
"Hastings!" the driver-cum-doctor was yelling behind him. "Hastings, what in the name of--"
"This way," Shaun yelled, taking a turn down that nauseatingly pristine hall way. The stupid woman who he'd earlier wanted to punch blocked their way, screaming something in a high pitched voice. Shaun barreled her into a wall, and she dropped like a stone. Satisfaction rippled through him. He should punch people more often.
"Shaun," Desmond sputtered. They were still holding hands, running out into the basement, up the stairs. "Where are we going!"
"Out!" Shaun exclaimed. "Lucy and Rebecca are waiting for us outside!"
"What!"
Shaun did not pause in his running, ignoring the loud yells coming from behind them. "I talked to them when I discovered you were alive," he explained steadily. "We all decided to rescue you. Through code, of course, the Assassins always monitor our conversations."
They stumbled out of the clinic, Desmond out of breath. He was still not wearing any shoes. "How--?" he heaved, sweating.
"You're really out of shape," Shaun remarked with a grin born of a reckless glee, and just in time a van swerved into their vision, back door already open, with Rebecca holding out a hand. They scrambled on -- Rebecca heaved Desmond in, with Shaun pushing in from behind -- and off they went, like a bullet.
"Rebecca!" Desmond gaped, still out of breath. The engineer burst into tears and tackled Desmond, holding him tight. "Gack!"
"We were all so worried!" she sobbed. "Oh gosh, Des, I am so sorry!"
"Is Desmond all right?" Lucy's voice asked urgently from the driver's seat.
"'Becca's currently choking him," Shaun grinned. He'd taken out his laptop, and was busy typing away at it. Erasing their tracks. Causing a bit of electronic mayhem back at the Assassin's Headquarters, to mess them up a little. Seems they still had holes, hah.
Fill [12/14]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:27 am (UTC)(link)"They weren't going to let you go," Shaun snarled, looking up from his laptop. "They were just going to use you further."
Desmond's eyes dimmed, and his hands shook a bit. But his gaze was steady. "They don't have the Apple? But I found the location. I know I did. I did not dream that up."
There was silence, and Rebecca winced. "You see, Des," she said softly. "We did find it, but we couldn't get to it. Only a descendant..."
"Of Ezio and Altair can, huh," Desmond muttered. He peppered off angrily into another language, and all three of them sat up ramrod straight, alert. Rebecca and Shaun's eyes were glued on Desmond, tense. The man gestured quickly, saying something, catching Shaun's eye. Desmond trailed off, shook his head, and looked at his hands, flexing them. Shaun thought he was hazing in and out of himself.
"...Desmond?" Shaun said, hesitantly.
"It's me," the man said, quietly. He shook himself again, for measure, and grinned weakly. "Still me. Sorry for the scare... it comes and goes."
Lucy was dead silent from her end, and Rebecca looked horrified, tears coursing down her face.
"I am so sorry for what we did to you, Desmond," Shaun said, looking rather lost and angry.
Fill [13/14]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:28 am (UTC)(link)"No," Rebecca had gotten ahold of herself, and wiped away her tears. "They might know where it is, though. The Assassins have posted up people to keep watch over the Temple while they wait to get someone new to fetch it for them. For being masters of the shadows, they are rather obvious in their tactics." She pointed to Shaun's laptop, shrugging.
"Well, then let's go and get it," Desmond said, nodding. "Before they do."
"That's exactly what we don't want!" Shaun barked. "We got you out so they wouldn't use you like that! You're not just a thing, Desmond, you're a person!"
"Then what was all I did for, huh?" Desmond cried, and his eyes fogged a hazy gold. He slammed his hands down on the truck, and exploded in a fury of Arabic. Shaun and Rebecca both visibly jumped, and Desmond looked down, snarling in frustration at himself. Viciously, he hit the side of the truck with his fist, and phased back into English. "...rather we get it than let the Templars have it! We can't let that happen!"
"Desmond, if we go for it, the Assassins will believe we've betrayed them because we want the Apple for ourselves," Lucy spoke loudly over the roar of the van, glancing back for a second before going back to the road.
"Then tell them we still work for them," Desmond said, fiercely. "I don't want any of you suffering for merely wanting me to be free. Tell them I'll go get the damn Apple for them."
Fill [14/14] END
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:30 am (UTC)(link)But.... he hadn't broken. Even through everything, he was still Desmond. Bloody big-hearted, big-headed Desmond Miles.
He could kiss the idiot. Fortunately, he still had some modicum of self-restraint. He'd already exhausted all the reckless in him for the day.
"You are an idiot," Shaun told him, caustically. Desmond's head swerved around to look at him, already an angry retort on his lips -- "but if that's what you want, it's not a bad plan."
Desmond blinked. "it's not?"
"We can make it work," Rebecca nodded, slowly. "It'll save all our asses, really."
"It'll take some convincing for the higher ups to not want to kill us," Shaun muttered, already typing out something. "But they'll understand. Eventually."
"They should have known we wouldn't have abandoned you," Lucy said as she steered expertly around a curb, and her eyes were shining. "You're one of us."
"Lucy..." Desmond looked shocked, and then looked around him. "Rebecca, Shaun...you all..." he blubbering into Italian, and grinned stupidly, unaware of his switch, and seconds later just as easily phased back into English, "...so crazy. I love you, guys."
"Yeah, yeah," Shaun said, and though the vice around his heart was still tight, he was so very glad Desmond was back with them. The big idiot could hardly do a thing without them. "Stop crying, you ninny."
"You're crying too," Rebecca teased, wiping the corner of her eyes.
"Am not," Shaun hid behind his laptop, blushing furiously. What was up with all these water works! he thought as he hastily rubbed his face.
"First things first, though," Desmond said, and they all looked up at him -- Lucy briefly, still intent on the road. "I really need to get back into shape," he said, and melodramatically raised his shirt, poking his soft belly. "What kind of an assassin is this pudgy!"
"Pudgy?" Shaun gagged. "Desmond, you're practically a skele--"
"Shaun is," Rebecca interrupted him, giggling. She reached over and poked Shaun in the side, his rather squishy side, causing him to jerk with a startled hack.
"I am not pudgy!" Shaun was so red, the tips of his ears had turned purple. "And don't poke me without my permission!"
Desmond looked at them both, and grinned from ear to ear. From the front, Lucy was laughing. Rebecca patted Desmond repeatedly on the shoulder as she laughed herself to tears, other hand on her stomach, shaking. Shaun huffed, crossed his arms, and glared at them all.
Everything wasn't all right -- in fact, they had all just dug themselves into a private hell, what with pissing off the Assassins with this crazy stunt. Not to mention Desmond's brain was half-way fried, what with him phasing in and out of foreign languages and bursting into abrupt moments of aggressively. But he was smiling, now, and they had a plan, and, if Shaun had anything to do with it, it would work it all out. He wouldn't let it end any other way.
--
A/N: AHHHH THIS WAS SO SAPPY I'm so sorry annons, this poor story rolled to a queer, disjointled end xD;; I sort of ran out of steam there. BUT! It was a fun ride, and I thank you all for your lovely comments <3 I hope it was enjoyable! Thanks for the wonderful prompt, OP~
Re: Fill [14/14] END
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:47 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill [14/14] END
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2011-01-27 05:31 am (UTC)(link)Thank you so much, awesome anon!
Re: Fill [14/14] END
(Anonymous) 2011-03-14 04:16 am (UTC)(link)OP here
(Anonymous) 2011-01-25 02:23 am (UTC)(link)