Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Desmond woke in a patch of grass. There was no grit under his nails or rocks poking into his side, nothing to indicate that he was near a cave. A breeze was just rustling the long blades of green; the grass gentle movements were like a ghost of a long dead ocean wave.

His head wasn't hurting, his stomach wasn't rebelling... he definitely didn't go out drinking. Normally at this point he would stop and try and figure out what happened, but he didn't need to. He knew very well what happened.

He died.

He could remembered the Grand Temple, the Isu's argument and the solar flare that was coming, his father and friends fleeing and most of all he remembered the pain from touching the eye.

"Won't feel a thing, my ass." he grumbles to himself.

He honestly wasn't surprised that Juno lied. She just told him what she thought he needed to hear. He didn't think it was the truth. Still, it annoyed him. It felt like she spit on his grave.

Oh yeah... he had a grave now. Or would he...?

Thinking about it his stomach clinches. His body was in the cave. If the eye worked then it would attract a lot of attention. He wasn't going to get a respectful burial... his remains were going to be some Templar's science experiment if he had to bet on anything.

Even in death he was going to be shit on by those assholes.

Getting up, he glances around and is shocked to recognize the field. Old worn wooden fence crossed his path and the grass was waist high, perfect for novices to hide in. It was one of the fields that bordered the 'farm'. The same farm he was trained at; the one he ran from at sixteen.

Everything was light and wispy, he could barely see the barn in the distance. Oddly along the fence there were a couple of figures turned towards each other, quietly talking.

Desmond quickly approaches them.

There was something off about the two. He's never seen people quite like them.

The man was in midnight blue robes, which was odd granted. He had to be the oldest man Desmond has ever seen in his life. He had a long snow white beard and half-moon spectacles perched on a crooked nose. But there was something more about him that just screamed experience.

By his side the other person was not as odd but there was something that struck him about this one too. It was a girl. She was thin, far too thin, she was in her late teens. She too wore robes, this time a black one and she had her back towards him.

Something in him screamed caution, even as he speaks, "Uhhh Hello?"

The two start at the sound of his voice. The old man's eyes widen at him and then just as quickly he pales slightly. The girl on the other hand jerks in surprise and reaches into the front of her robes even as she turns to face him. She pauses and moves her hand around inside the folds unable to find what she was looking for, she withdraws her hand.

Good instinctive reaction... She was obviously reaching for a weapon.

"Good evening, young man." Old guy had a strong British accent, even stronger then Shawn's. Probably spent most of his life on the island. Desmond couldn't help but analyze the guy. He didn't look happy to see him, though he was hiding it well, "Might I inquire as to how you came to share our company this evening?"

He pointedly doesn't answer the question, "I'm dead?" There wasn't much of a question that he was, but it would be nice to have it confirmed.

"It would seem so." The man strokes his chin thoughtfully, a deep frown darkening his features.

The girl was looking between them, "Since you're dead are you taking a train?" He's never seen anyone with eyes that green before. They were very distracting. And did she say train?

At the thought, the endless misty fields turn into a familiar train station. He didn't know where the place was but he's was pretty sure he's seen it on TV a time or two. The two weren't sitting on the fence anymore but instead a bench. A sound draws his attention. His eyes zero in on a bench a few seats down, there was something small and baby-sized underneath it. After only a split second of looking however, he realizes the nightmarish thing was anything but a baby. "I guess so?" Answering the girl's previous question.

He opens his mouth to ask about the NOT-baby but the girl interrupts, "It's a soul fragment. It's beyond help." She turns to the old guy, "Professor?"

The man comes out of his thoughts and gives her an apologetic smile, "Sorry, my girl. I was just thinking we might have a problem." He asserts. He turns to Desmond, "I believe we need to inquire on your death, young man."

Desmond snorts, "I know I'm a bit new to this whole dead thing but that's too personal for a first date professor."

The man didn't look offended, (like someone from the early 1900's would normally be) he actually looked a little more at ease at the joke. "I'm afraid I must insist. Unless you have some unfinished business with Miss Potter, like I do, you should have already passed on unseen by us."

Taking that in he gives the teen another look. After a moment it was clear, "Miss Potter" was definitely not someone he's ever met. He had a feeling her case of bed-head was a fixed thing and it was notable enough to identify her from it. Then there was her eyes. They weren't a forest green or a light almost blue green or any other green he's seen on a human nor animal. They were a deep fathomless emerald green that shied just short of glowing.They were honestly the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen and completely unforgettable. There was no question about him meeting her before.

"Say I haven't met her, why is it important?" Until he knew what type of threats were in the afterlife he was going to follow the rules he's been living by. 'Do not compromise the brotherhood' was still in full effect as far as he was concerned.

A hand suddenly lands on his shoulder, "It means everything happens here for a reason." Desmond's blade was out and pressed against the throat of the man before he even realized he moved.

Blinking he takes in what or rather who he was seeing; It was an old man in a ragged tunic and grass stained pants. His skin was the texture of leather, sun tanned from hours of work outside. In spite of a head full of snow white hair there was a strength to him that transcended age. Desmond immediately recognized that Roman nose and scarred lip. There was even a hint of the handsomeness the man had in his youth, "Ezio..?!?"

"I've waited a long time to meet you Desmond." The man says with a smile, as Desmond lowers his blade. "I've watched you for many years now, as you have watched me these last months."

"Disappointed?" He asks quietly, unable to resist voicing the question.

He sacrificed himself for the world but then again he ran away from the brotherhood as a kid. Some would see that as a betrayal... and the brotherhood was Ezio's life work.

Ezio shakes his head, "Everyone should have the right to choose. In the end, It was your life and you still saved more lives then the entire brotherhood has in all it's history. Who am I to be disappointed?" The man suddenly grins mischievously, it was in a way Desmond hasn't seen since he went through the man's teen aged memories, "Even that bastardo Haytham is proud of being your fore-bearer. You caused quite a ruckus among us."

There was an impression to his voice, like all the dead were gathered together in one huge group or club,"Why do I get the feeling that dead people spend their time pranking each other?" There was a note of odd fondness when he called Haytham a bastard.

"Because you are far more perceptive then people give you credit for." Ezio grins like a guilty child. "Leonardo and a few creative others gives us an unfair advantage." he admits. Desmond couldn't help chuckling at that. He could see it now. An eternity of pranking Templars and getting to know people he never had the chance to meet. Like an endless party. It sounded... fun.

The old man, from the bench, walks over to Ezio, "Good Sir, May I ask why Miss Potter and your young friend are here together?"

Desmond had almost forgotten them. Did he have to go through a set of additional trials or something?

Ezio scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, "Many pardons, I did not mean to ignore you and your lovely young companion."

"No, forgive us for interrupting." The man replies, a small smile curving his whiskers.

The girl looks between the two and then meets Desmond's eyes, "Is being overly polite an elderly thing or a dead people thing?" The two turn towards her and give her a look. The girl cheeks redden, realizes how rude what she said.

Both the professor and Ezio smile at the girl, "Peace young one, we're not offended." Ezio assures her, "It's an experience 'thing' so in essence you are right, it is a older people thing."

"Much like speaking without thinking is sometimes something the young indulge in." The professor adds lightly, his eyes shining with mirth.

Even though Desmond would love to sit and talk to Ezio all day, the Professor acted like there was something important that had to be said. "Do we have to go through a test or something?" He guesses, trying to bring the topic around to why they were here.

The assassin turned farmer, takes on a thoughtful frown, "If there was a test you both passed it a thousand fold." he turns, "I'm afraid you are here because the battle has turned against your favor, Bambina." he informs the girl mournfully.

The girl is quiet for a moment, Desmond could almost feel the utter helplessness radiating off the girl. Instead of crying or raging as most would, she squares her shoulders and resolutely looks Ezio in the eye, "Did I die?"

He shakes his head but he grimaces slightly, "You have not passed yet but unfortunately you will not wake in time to save yourself."

Desmond really felt for the kid. Someone that young shouldn't be dying in battles. It was obvious she's been involved for awhile. There was a deep seated weariness to her, like she's been though hell... Being in the middle of a war probably wasn't even her choice.

Ezio gives her a moment but continues, "It was predicted hundreds of years ago that someone would arrive here with Desmond that could assist our world. And it is said we could help them in turn."

Tension eases from the girl's shoulder but she didn't look happy, "Lovely, another prophecy." She pauses waiting for him to continue.

"It's a long but complicated story and we do not have time to get into much detail." Ezio bows his head in apology, "It begins with a species of humans... a people called the Isu. They lived thousands of years ago and were highly advanced. They also committed great crimes against the natural order of things. Their greatest crime was not even known to them and was only revealed after death." Ezio meets Desmond's eyes, speaking directly to him, "The pieces of Eden operate by consuming an energy that naturally shields the Earth. The solar flare would have been repelled and less fierce without their interference."

That was.... "So the greatest disaster wasn't natural at all... it was their fault." And Juno had the gall to blame humans for 'distracting' the Isu from the flare.

"I don't see how I can help with this." The girl informs him quietly.

"It's the ley-lines isn't it?" the professor asks thoughtfully.

Ezio nods, "They have no power in them. What little our world produces is consumed by the Isu artifacts."

The girl turns to her companion, "Professor I don't know anything about ley-lines. I've only heard a couple mentions of them." she turns to Ezio, "I don't know how to help you."

"That's easily rectified." the professor says, patting her on the shoulder.

"We naturally produce the energy that created the ley-lines. We created all the creatures who do the same, from smallest mouse to the..." he coughs, "occupants of the reserves."

Desmond narrows his eyes at the old man. Made? The Isu liked to play god and what this professor just said sounded suspiciously like the same.

"We're running out of time, " Ezio cuts in, "You have to make your choice, bambina, Die or go to Desmond's world."

She doesn't hesitate, "I choose to live, but you said that you could help my world too." there was a hopeful note in her voice.
Ezio gives her a humorless smile filled with teeth. "The things that are bound to you we can send as well bambina."

Even Desmond didn't know how that would help her. Luckily the professor explains, "Remember Kreacher. Your things are the same whether they are in your hand or... in the hand of an enemy."

Understanding dawn on her, "He'll be helpless... in the middle of a battle." she says stunned.

It wasn't a happy thing but the girl manages a smile. "Alright tell me what to do..."

Chapter Text

The first thing Heather noticed was the dark. She was in complete darkness. She could almost believe she was still in her own world. The forbidden forest was dark too. It made her wonder. Was her body still there or did she take it with her? Coming back to life wasn't a normal situation, there wasn't much written about such things. Everything she could think of was dark arts, heavily cloaked in religion, (and has been under debate for hundreds of years) or outright myth that might have a few grains of truth.

So did she still have her original body? She was tired and her hands were bleeding lightly from scraping them earlier... so perhaps she did have it? Also, if this was her original body, how long would her friends look for her? As much of the thought of them caring to search comforted her, she couldn't help but hope they would move on and find some way to be happy without her. She knew it wasn't going to be easy for her.

She was laying on a stone floor. It had cracks and it was ice cold. In the distance she could hear the whistling of a breeze and faint echoes reverberating on distant walls.

She could feel Desmond's soul quietly resting in her... waiting to rejoin his body.
Picking herself up, it only takes her a moment of shifting through her robes to find Draco's wand.

"Lumos!"

The soft light was like a blazing Sun in the dark. The rays pierced her eyes blinding her momentarily. After a moment or two adjusting, she quickly scrutinizes her surroundings.

She was encircled by hundreds of things. Just outside her reach were curtains and beds and wardrobes. They were moth eaten and familiar. The floor was covered in thousands of little gleaming coins, gold and silver with bits of bronze in the mix. They weren't just any gold coins but Galleons and silver sickles and bronze knuts. But it was easily twenty times what she had in her parent's vault. Perhaps even more. After a moment she spots other things that made it clear why there was such a discrepancy. There was a suit of armor and on it's breastplate was the Black family crest.

She remembered Professor Dumbledore informing her that she inherited everything from Sirius but this was a bit ridiculous. There were countless gems, sapphires, rubies and emeralds, most the size of a baby's fist or larger... and was that a crown?

She didn't have time to deal with this mess, she had to find Desmond's body. His soul would return only when she had a physical connection with his mortal shell. She was the only thing tethering him to the living world. His chance of returning would be missed if she didn't hurry.

Was he buried under the Black family treasure horde? Hysterically, she couldn't help imagining Mrs. Black's approval. If her family couldn't have the gold at least it was being used to kill a muggle.

As if someone was listening to her thoughts and guiding her, her gaze lands on the answer to the problem, Hermoine's bag.

She was confused as to why it came with her until she realized that some of her things were inside. Just as quickly another thought occurred to her. All of Hermoine's worldly possessions were inside the bag .... and Ron's was too... they both had so little already.

Physically ill, her stomach twisting unpleasantly, she picks the bag up. She didn't have time to check.

She starts summoning the furniture, then the gold and jewels. She puts all of it into Hermoine's bag. Underneath were more things, books and robes, mystery objects with unknown purposes. Everything was summoned and put in the little rhinestone bag. At one moment she was surprised at the open cover of a fourth year Arithmacy book. Inside clear as day was written in neat cursive 'Property of Lily Evans'. She felt a little better at the sight. Her parents things were mixed into the mess....

There were potion ingredients in little bottles or vials. Finding them caused her to pause. They were even more valuable then all the gold and jewels. She couldn't replace them. They could be the key to saving someone's life later on. They were important. She took the time to cast a quick blanket indestructible spell on the pile of things. It wouldn't last long but it would keep the bottles safe for a few weeks, enough time to come back to them.

There were other surprises, like her Firebolt, the same one she lost fleeing Privit Drive. There were also goblets that she knew Mundungus stole. There were probably other things that were returned by the dead.

Getting near the bottom she finally finds Desmond's body behind Sirius' repaired motorbike.

The rest of the things weren't worth any more caution. At least not enough to delay longer. She quickly summons everything in the room save the motorbike and her school trunk, which had some clothes she could change into. The room clears quickly except two items near the middle, the Elder wand and the resurrection stone. Neither could be summoned, so it wasn't a surprise.

Feeling a savage satisfaction at the thought of the Elder wand disappearing from Voldermort's hand in the middle of battle, she goes and picks up the two items and places them into her moleskin bag so she could find them easily.

Finally with the room cleared, she tucks Hermoine's bag into her pocket, placing a sticking charm so it wouldn't fall out and quietly approaches Desmond's body.

He was dressed in the same hooded jumper and trousers as he was at King's cross. There was no outward signs that he was dead save his blackened arm and the utter stillness of his chest. If she did not know better she could almost pretend he was asleep.

She gingerly steps over him to the side that had his uninjured arm. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. Dumbledore explained that since the eyes were the window to the soul, the mouth was the door.

It made sense. The dementors took people's souls through a 'kiss'. She would have to return Desmond's dormant soul the same way and it would be risky to keep her mouth any distance from his.

She was rather reluctant to do this, there just seemed something wrong about locking lips with a complete stranger.... especially one that was for all accounts, dead.

Swallowing, she kneels down beside him, opens his mouth and latches her own mouth onto his. She breaths the small source of warmth in the back of her throat into the man's body, backing away as soon as she felt it pass her lips.

A moment passes... and another... Desmond chest rises, air coming out of his mouth in a hiss of pain. The man makes a low sound of agony and clutches his injured arm. The offending limb was sizzling and even as she looks it slowly lightens in color. It takes a couple minutes but the forearm turns a shiny red. It was scarred and raw. Even partially healed it looked painful.

"Desmond? Can you hear me?" His eyes were shut, his face twisted in pain.

He bares his teeth and hisses. "Uggghhh.... FUCK, this hurts!"

"Do you remember where this place is?" She looks around the room now that everything was out of the way. How exactly did Desmond die? It was a large circular room with only a raised dais. She didn't see anything that could have killed him. There was a large opening to the left... maybe there were some supplies outside of here? All she had were some ingredients. She couldn't trust any of the ready made potions. There was too much of a chance that it would poison him. "I could try to get you to a hospital?"

The man cracks open his eyes at that, grimacing at the Lumos light above them. "Yeah, no. Not going to happen. I don't care if I'm dying, don't bring me to the hospital." he demands.

That makes her pause. People usually didn't go to those links to avoid something minor. She had a feeling it wasn't something like a phobia. Maybe he didn't trust doctors? She didn't know this Earth, for all she knew they might be practicing bloodletting or giving mercury for simple colds still. It was something to think about.

He lifts his head and sits breathlessly for a moment. The arm was getting lighter in color by the moment. "It's healing.... look!"

"Holy shit!" He says in disbelief, watching it heal even as he grits his teeth. Slowly it was turning from red to pale pink, going through the stages of healing that would normally take years but was lasting minutes. Desmond's grimace eases, the expression being replaced by awe. Finally, the healing stops. The arm was a glaring white of an ancient burn scar.

Heather couldn't help but feel relief for the man. If that didn't heal he would have lost his arm. He shouldn't be capable of even moving his wrist and here he was flexing his fingers as if he was never injured.

"Desmond?" His eyes were narrowed at the Lumos light floating above them. He looked a bit dazed. According to one of her potion books, It was common when someone was suddenly freed from pain for the person to be a bit delirious from the relief. He turns, a hazy brow lifted in question. "How did you die? I don't see anything that could have killed you."

It was like she flipped a light switch with the question, his eyes widen, sharpening, he delirium being stamped down with his sudden alarm, "We have to move!" he barks.

He quickly turns and looks around the room like he was seeing it for the first time, spotting Sirius' bike, he rushes to it. He turns to her, his shoulders set in command. "Does this work, does it run?"

"Last time I saw, it was in pieces. I honestly don't know." It was an honest concern. It was beaten quite a bit and who knows what Mr. Weasley did to it. And would it work for a muggle? She grabs her trunk and drags it over to the side car, lifting and dumping it in the seat. If his alarm was any indication, they would have to risk it.

He was looking over the control panel in disbelief, there were a lot of additions. "What the hell is all this? Are all bikes like this where you're from?"

"No, it's a custom thing. My godfather liked to tinker." And Mr. Weasley. It was a bit worrying even for her, "Do you understand the basic controls still?" Hopefully, Mr. Weasley didn't tinker with that part.

Desmond looks at it grimly but nods, "I think so." he turns to the room. "Do you have everything?" He was looking down at her school trunk with a barely detectable trace of pity, he was hiding it well but she could tell. He thought that was all her worldly possessions.

She didn't mind a little pity, even if it was for something so meaningless, she would trade all of her things for just one more week with her friends if she could.

"Yes, it's more then it looks." she admits honestly. She wasn't going to show him... at least for now.

He nods, "Then lets get it outside and see if it' works."

Chapter Text

Desmond didn't ride the motorcycle out of the cave. There were just too many places in the temple that had slabs of stone that would damage it. He did however test if the bike would even run. In spite of it's beat up appearance, it purred like a kitten. He wasn't quite sure what to expect exiting the cave.

"Is that normal?!?" The girl sputters, staring at the sky.

"No, definitely not." He's never seen the sky like this before.

The entire sky was an intense blood red. Between them and the sky was a rainbow made out of thousands of rays and what looked like waves. It had some of the features of a Aurora borealis but covering the entire stretch of sky.

It wasn't a phenomenon he could just ignore. This is what the eye was protecting them from....this was the world ending flare. The eye was suppose to save them but It also begged the question; was it safe to go out even with the shield. Yeah, they could get away but would they die of cancer in a couple years? Going out in that without protection was stupid.

"We need to cover up." He points out to the girl, "Who knows what this will do."

The teen pauses and studies him with a suspicious frown. "I have a hooded jumper and gloves, and the bike has goggles and a helmet. I'm sure I can dig out a scarf also for your lower face." She opens her trunk, pulls out the specified items after a moment of searching and hands them over. "If it's so dangerous why are we leaving the cave? We could easily stay in the mouth..."

Desmond lets out a sigh, there was no helping it, the girl was involved at least for a short time, she deserved to know why she might end up on the run. He points simply to the sky, "We're running from people willing to burn the world. Now that it isn't happening, they're going to hunt where that shield came from. And that just happens to be here."

He had to give her credit, she wasn't an idiot. It only takes her a moment to connect the dots. "That's how you died.... you sacrificed yourself to get it up." she concludes grimly.

He died... it was weird hearing it said out loud. "Yeah.... Thanks for bringing me back, kid."

"You're welcome." she lifts a brow at him and scowls lightly, "My name is Heather Potter... I'm not a kid."

"Desmond Miles, nice to meet you." he smirks at her, "...Kid."

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There was panic in the streets. People were out staring at the sky. They were so distracted that there were multiple car accidents. There were people crying or outright in hysterics. Others were gawking in wonder, filming the effect. And finally there were the third group... People running out of stores with their arms full of anything they could get their hands on.

On the bright side, the police were too busy dealing with the general public to run the plates of an innocent motorcyclist.

"Yeah, Rebecca! Can you hear me?" They were stopped at a light, he wasn't going to risk drawing the police's attention by running it.

There was a loud crackle in his ear, it was going to take awhile for that clear up. "Who...s...mond?"

"Yeah, it's Desmond! Look it's breaking up too much I'll call you back." The flare wasn't going to last that long. Shaun did a massive amount of research on the subject. Earth's sun didn't flare for long compared to other stars. The most it flared in the past was about 12 hours. Because of the intensity of this flare it was going to last a much shorter time. It was better to concentrate on getting out of town. At least they're warned to stay close until they can check it's him.

"Hey, you alright back there?" The girl arms were in a death grim around his waist, she's been quiet for awhile. Maybe she was afraid of motorcycles?

"I..." she stops leaning her forehead against his back. "Yes... where in the world are we?"

It was a common turn of phrase, but he doubts very many people get to say it with the true meaning behind it. She really didn't know where in the world they were. "We're in Turin, New York." He informs her. "Anyways I've been meaning to ask, do you have a plan?"

"Plan?" She sounded a bit confused.

"Yeah a plan. Like going to school, getting a job? You have any idea what you're qualified for? I know some people who can forge everything you need." he explains.

The girl looked dazed, "I... I have to think about it first. I need sleep. I've had almost no sleep the last three days. I should probably take some time to learn about this place. There might be some big differences."

"Well, don't sweat it kid. I owe you. The least I can do is help you on your feet."

The girl leans her head forward onto his shoulders, "thank you..."

--------------------

It took a couple more phone calls and a text message with a security question before he was given a location to meet up with the others. They were holding up in a warehouse. Apparently, the company recently went out of business. The power was still on even.

Because of how long it took to meet up with the others, the girl's trunk ended up tied to the back of the bike. It was so the girl could safely pass out in the side car. She must have been exhausted. By the look of it the side car seat could double up as a torture device. He honestly couldn't figure out how she could sleep in it, tired or not.

Driving the bike into the bay doors, he quickly spots the others who came out of an office to see him.

Whatever greeting they were going to say dies on their lips at the sight of Heather.

Stopping the bike he nudges the teen on the shoulder, "Hey, kid. We're here, time to wake up."

The girl lets out a groan but opens her emerald eyes. They were blood shot and unfocused without her glasses. She had been using a set of those long black robes for a blanket. Clinging to it, she looks at him in question. "We're here." She hesitates for a moment but excepts a hand up out of the side car.

His dad was the first to approach them, his mouth twisting from a greeting to no doubt berate him. Desmond quickly cuts him off. "Heather this is my dad, William Miles. Everyone calls him Bill though." He points over towards to the door they probably set up the computers. "And that's Shawn Hastings, he's a historian. And finally Rebecca Crane, she's a computer programmer among other things." He turns on his dad and narrows his eye at the man, giving him a clear 'play nice' message. "This is Heather Potter. She saved my life." He explains simply.

Bill swallows the retort that he was no doubt going to deliver and nods to the girl. "It's nice to meet you." he pauses and adds as an afterthought, "Thank you, for helping my son." It was clear he was in doubt how much help she actually was.

"Yeah, thanks for the help kid." Rebecca ventures, no doubt reading Desmond's body language. He was honest about her saving him. She deserved to be acknowledged for it.

Heather smiles at the hacker and nods, at the movement she sways slightly.

Desmond was quick to steady her, "Woah, careful. Let's get you to bed." He looks to Rebecca.

"Break room is along the back wall, bathroom is connected. There's a nice couch inside."

---------------------------------------------------

As soon as the girl's head hits the old duct-taped leather couch, she was out, completely oblivious to the world. With how exhausted she obviously was, she wasn't going to wake any time soon.

"Who the HELL is that?!?!" Bill barks, his voice low.

They were in an office with a wall of glass windows on the opposite side of the warehouse but still in sight of the little break-room.

Desmond couldn't help himself, "Oh it's so GOOD you're alive son!..." he says sarcastically. There were some things he could always depend on, even at the end of the world. One of those things is his dad being an ass. "She's important. How about a little trust? Don't you think I've earned it?"

"I AM happy you're alive." Bill counters with a huff. "But bringing a child here..."

"Is she a recruit?" Rebecca asks with a frown, she goes up to him and gives him a hug.

"Not unless we're planning on taking down the Templars with teen-aged gossip." Shawn snarks, "But who knows maybe going full out 'mean girls' will win the day."

"She's not a recruit, at least not yet." He didn't know how to explain it, "She's more of a ... mission." He turns to Rebecca, "Can the animus show you my memories?"

The question throws her off for a second, "It can but the memories have to be a few hours old... and I have to adjust baby to read them."

"I need to show you what happened. Let's do it."

-----------------------------------------

Reliving his own memories was distinctly different from going through his ancestors. Instead of the bleeding effect there was this constant foreshadowing echo inside the animus showing the memories that have been scanned and ready to load.

As much as Rebecca could adjust the equipment, she still couldn't completely get rid of the echo.

"Alright, where in the old noggin do you want us to go?" Becs asks, out of sight of the loading screen.

An animus created Shaun was arguing with a memory Desmond about the American revolution and British taxes. Desmond ignores the echo. "Right when you left the cave."

The loading screen fades and the grand temple materializes in front of him. He then had the dubious honor of experiencing his death again. The view lasts just long enough to see his arm blackened and some sort of substance rise from his body.

"My God! How are you even alive?" Shaun asks incredulously.

The pain may be dampened by the animus but dying a second time wasn't a pleasant experience. "Wrong question. You should be asking how I came back." He grits out, swallowing the bile in the back of his throat.

His surroundings change as he wakes in the fields of the farm. He's memory self walks up to the two figures and he lets the conversation progress.

"That's one smooth transition." Becs points out as the farm fields change into the train station.

"Hum, I highly suspect this isn't a real place, that it's actually all in your head." Shaun was looking at the surroundings in fascination.

Desmond couldn't help snorting, "I'm pretty sure I've seen this place on TV."

"Well I don't say the place didn't exist, I just don't think this is the real King's Cross. I think it's a projection that's controlled by your mind."

"If this is controlled by a mind it isn't mine, I don't know it enough to imagine this." he retorts, "The girl is there too."

"Enough, speculate later." Bill orders.

The memory continues and with every addition of new information, they quiet further. Ezio meeting and talking directly with Desmond, the fact there were other Earths, another species of human... one that could actually produce POE energy, and the Isu's role in the last solar flare. All of it was sobering.

The girl finally makes her choice to save him and fades from the station.

The station itself, fades back into the farm.

The two spirits turn to him. Ezio was the first to break the silence. "I don't think I need to tell you what needs to be done." The old assassin points out.

The place was strange, Desmond could feel the echoing emotions of the two others there just like when he originally experienced this.

"She needs to be hidden and protected from the Templars." he lists off the obvious choices.

The Professor listening, lets out a dry humorless chuckle, "Miss Potter's may need many things but protection from physical harm will be rarely needed." The man's laser focus zeroes in on Desmond. "I would also advise whatever organization you are part of to not presume to decide her life. She will be vulnerable from grief for a time, but she will make her own decisions. You were not the only one to sacrifice yourself this evening." there was something coming from the man. It takes a moment for Desmond to realize what.

"You... love her!" Memory Desmond blurts out in shock. What he was feeling coming from the man was not a small thing. It was sorrowful and heart sick, like someone recently losing a loved one.

The old man gives him a sheepish pained smile, "In the purest of forms. Yes, I do love her. She's like a favored grandchild and the dearest of friends. In all my 156 years, I have never met a more admirable human being. Her level of selflessness and integrity is what I aspire to." His expression turns sober, "I can not put into words how much of an injustice this is. She deserves all the happiness one can receive. She is a true hero."

Hearing something like that Desmond would normally assume it was an exaggeration but he could still feel the man's emotions. He believed every word.

A hand clamps onto his shoulder, Ezio faces the other spirit, "Desmond is the same. You can not put your faith in anyone better." He defends with a proud air.

"I'll keep an eye out for her." Just like when this happened the first time, Desmond couldn't help feeling a little like he just agreed to adopt a puppy. But the words have the effect he intended, the professor's shoulder slump as if a burden was eased from them.

"Now there is one last thing, I must tell you." Ezio says turning to him, "The pieces of Eden must be destroyed."

"But..." Desmond starts.

Ezio cuts him off and gives him a look, "Countless lives have met their end because of them. They can no longer contribute to humanity."

"I heard rumors there are ones that can heal any wound. How could that not help?"

Ezio nods, "Other then the fact that for every life saved a hundred are taken?" He points out drily, "they are a threat to the girl's bloodline, and it must continue. That barrier guards against more then just the sun's wrath. We have just been fortunate that life has endured this long without it. I do not know the specifics but there will be another great crisis."

Desmond mouth goes dry in the memory, "What can you tell me?"

"I do not know much but there will be lingering effects from the isu's machine and another disaster waiting to happen without the shield."

----------------------------

After the animus session ends they talk long into the night. Was the girl Juno trying to trick them? If she wasn't there was the disaster they had to deal with world ending? And what differences are there between her kind of human and them?

Chapter Text

She had a dreamless sleep. What must have been hours passed without murmur, without thought... without feeling. Hours went by without acknowledging the white elephant in the room.

Everyone was gone.

They weren't all dead but some tiny part of her acknowledged that it was the same for her if not them. She would never see them again in her life. No more playing chess with Ron, no more debating some rule with Hermoine... she couldn't give Neville that hug she owed him, she wouldn't be baffled by Luna, she wouldn't see any of them... the professors, Hagrid, George, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley... She would never see them again just like Fred, Remus and Colin Creevy.

There would be no becoming an Auror and settling down...

There were no magicals here. Professor Dumbledore and the old man, (Easy-o?) made it clear even if they didn't say it explicitly.

That was a problem.

Muggles were just like witches and wizards, human. But that's where the problem laid. If the war (and her childhood) taught her anything it's that people would and could do horrible things to each other for the smallest of differences.

Magic was not a small difference.

Dumbledore and the other old man, minced words when they were talking in the in-between. She could tell they both were trying to avoid saying certain things. Knowing what Dumbledore was trying to avoid saying was easy, he was clearly avoiding the mention of magic. 'Occupants of the reserves' was obviously the dragon and their reserves... a heavily magical creature.

But the question was... what was the other old man and Desmond hiding? And did she imagine the cagey looks she got last night before she passed out? Perhaps they were trying to hide something connected to the Izu people that was mentioned, the artifacts that drained the world of magic perhaps? Or could it be connected to the people that were willing to burn the world?

She still didn't understand why someone would be willing to do something like that. Riding Sirius' bike wasn't exactly good for conversation with Desmond... so she wasn't able to ask him about it. Perhaps she could get answers now?

Opening her eyes she's met with the break-room ceiling. It had those weird square panels that old schools or office buildings had. She remembered multiple times that she sat and counted the dots to distract herself from Dudley and his gang. It was an odd consistency across the two universes.

Turning she takes in the rest of the room.

It looked like something that would be in a normal office environment. Water-cooler in the corner with little cups, fake plants but with some very pointed differences. On the other side was the larger couch. Desmond was fast asleep. In-between the couches, instead of the coffee table that was there the night before, was two camp-beds. The woman from the night before along with the bespectacled man was sleeping on them.

The older man, that Desmond introduced as his father, was not in the room.

Maybe he was on watch? They were running from some unnamed people... what exactly did that entail? Well she wasn't going to learn laying there feeling sorry for herself.

Quietly, she crawls out from underneath her robe. She quickly edges around the camp-beds and into the bathroom. After doing her business, wiping down with a piece of cloth and some sink water she changes into another set of Dudley's old play clothes.

Opening the bathroom door she blinks in surprise.

She knew she was quiet, Aunt Petunia would accept nothing less to almost complete silence when the household was sleeping, which made the fact that all three of the people being awake a bit startling.

"Good morning. You slept like the dead kid."

She couldn't help snorting at that, "You would know." she could feel herself wince as soon as she realizes what she said, she was putting her foot in her mouth a lot the last couple of days, "Sorry, I'm being really insensitive lately." She wanted to point out that she sort of died too but her death was nowhere near as horrific as his obviously was. Like Sirius said, it was like falling asleep. It wasn't even a comparison in retrospect.

Desmond snorts, "It's fine.. if it wasn't such a sensitive subject that would have been a top-tier come back. What I said was pretty bad too, now that I think about it."

"Is the fact that you're an actual extraterrestrial an sensitive topic?" the bespectacled man asks thoughtfully from his cot, "Because I have questions... a lot of questions."

Heather blinks, "I'm from Earth. I speak the queen's English." she points out in a deadpan.

"Yes, but not our Earth or our England. That in fact makes you an alien." the man counters, which was fair actually.

"I don't know, are you sensitive about being an alien to me?"

Desmond snorts at her reply. "Okay, I'm getting up. You done with the bathroom Heather?"

She quickly steps aside, "All free." without a single wasted bit of energy, he rolls to his feet. It was all in one quick smooth motion, it was such an economy of movement of casual strength and muscle memory, it was notable... and it felt oddly alarming to her.

"Noooo, Desmond! You bastard... I need to go.." The woman moans from her cot, glaring at him blurry eyed.

The man snorts, "You snooze you lose, Becs."

Slightly amused, Heather puts away her soiled laundry. "I'll leave you lot to it."

Leaving the break-room she finds herself in the warehouse. She saw it the night before but with her half asleep she didn't really have time to take it in, not that there was much to see. It was all large crates and shelving made of industrial steel beams.

Sirius' bike was near the garage doors and next to it was a nondescript white van with the back open. There were open boxes with what seemed to be wires sticking out. One of them seemed to have that strange chair she saw last night. It was like the strange red one she remembered passing in the cave but only gray this time. The red one didn't seem like it could fold and go into a box though...

Passing it all by, she climbs the stairs to what she remember to be an office of some kind.

Desmond's father was behind a desk, he was most notably wearing a face mask.

"Good Morning..."

The man looks up and gives her an assessing stare. After a moment he picks up a mask and holds it out towards her, "I assume the others are awake."

It wasn't really a question but she treats it as such, "Yes." she takes the masks and puts it on. "Are there harmful chemicals in the building?" She did see a few blue barrels on the shelves. It made sense that some would have chemicals.

"Probably but that's not the reason for the mask." He gives her an annoyed look, "Did the Europeans of your Earth colonize the Americas of your world?"

She blinks, what did that have to do with a... mask... "You think I might have brought a disease here." her heart skips a beat, did she bring something? It was very possible. What if they didn't have the flu here and she has some strain of it...

"No, it's not a question of if you brought something, it's a question of what you brought and if you passed it on to anyone already." he looks down at the oddly flat computer screen. "It is estimated that over 95% of the native population died from diseases brought to the Americas from Europe.... Millions died and if we're not careful we may repeat it in modern times."

"Jesus dad, way to make the kid feel like shit." Desmond says behind her. "I don't mind being cautious but I think Ezio would have mentioned a possible new plague if she brought something."

"Ezio, as good of a mentor as he was, lived in the past. We can't assume he was all knowing in the afterlife." he hands his son a mask, "We're loading up and moving to a CDC lab this afternoon. The brotherhood has a couple associates embedded high enough in the organization to order a secret isolation study. We need to be watched as a precaution."

Desmond reluctantly puts on a mask. "So are we just going to sit around as some doctors play with our blood?"

"No, except to get samples, bringing us food or to take care of any illnesses we're going to be left alone."

"Great..."

----------------------------

It took them a half hour to pack up the equipment. Heather helped but it was obvious she was trying not to think about her situation. Desmond spotted her a couple times, her eyes rimmed in red from crying but he never spotted her actually doing so. She was keeping her grief private and he respected it.

"I hope they have something to eat there. I'm starving." Rebecca says from the driver's seat.

Because of the situation they couldn't go to a drive-through or to a supermarket. They couldn't even take the motorcycle with them.

As everyone packed up, he spread fuel around the inside to burn the warehouse when they leave. His dad might be an asshole but he had a point, they couldn't afford to be lax in the face of a possible virus spreading.

The girl being informed of this disappeared for a bit. He last spotted her near where he parked the bike in the middle of some chemical filled barrels. She looked a bit guilty when she reappeared but he wasn't going to blame her if she wanted to save something from the bike. It was obviously something sentimental to her.

To be honest they would take it with them if they had enough room in the back of the van. There was just too much risk in driving it in the open air.

Hopefully Heather didn't have any dangerous virus'.

Being near a major metropolitan area, the CDC folks had a selection of locations to send them. For safety sake, and budget concerns, they ended up choosing a small rural building that used to be a clinic.

"Pull in back of the building. Richards said we can set up the equipment in a spare room in the back." Bill says.

The clinic was on the edge of a forest. It was off a rural road in the middle of nowhere. The doctor that ran the clinic moved closer to the nearby farming town a couple years before. At least according to the information Bill dug up. The CDC kept it mainly as an office for going through paperwork but it was fully stocked to resupply local hospitals in the case of a disaster... There was also an operational laboratory on site.

The van pulls into the back of the building, the trees dwarfed the area casting long shadows over them and everything else in sight. If it wasn't for the building itself Desmond could almost convince himself he was IN the woods.

Bill pulls out his phone and clicks a button, "We're here." he pauses listening to the person on the other line, "I'll inform them." He looks up, "They're getting on protective gear, they'll be here in a minute."

They wait in the van but it doesn't take the scientists long.

Two men in full hazmat suits that reminded him heavily of spacesuits, open the back of the van. Heather who was sitting next to it, starts slightly, not expecting it to suddenly open.

"Hey Bill, so what is this viral emergency you needed taking care of?" one of the men asks.

His dad grunts, "We'll discuss it inside. The girl is the most likely to be infected."

"As charismatic as always," the man turns and gives Heather a playful mock bow as he holds out a gloved hand, "My lady, my I assist you?"

Clearly amused, Heather takes his hand and lets him help her down from the back of the van, she turns and pointedly grabs a hold of her trunk as she's lead away.

"Best to get everything inside in one go. Once you enter isolation you're not going to be able to come back out to get more equipment." the other man states patiently.

This man wasn't in the report that his dad wrote up.

Neil Richards, the CDC mole, leads Heather into the building and comes back a couple minutes later. "Alright she's in an isolation room, let's get this stuff inside and get you taken care of."

It doesn't take long to transfer the boxes into the building.

--------------------------

The inside of the building was interesting. It wasn't like a normal clinic. There were four very large rooms with hospital beds and dozens of pieces of equipment. There were sinks and shower heads coming out of the walls but the rooms lacked toilets. Instead they had a medically designed chair with a bucket on the bottom. She knows they have a specific name for them but she couldn't remember it.

One side of the rooms was a solid glass wall with a curtain that can be pulled to give the rooms occupant privacy. Around the sliding glass door was more curtains but this time they were clear plastic.

Down the hall were more sheets of industrial plastic covering the doorway towards the front of the clinic. She couldn't see much beyond them except a shower of some kind. Whatever door was attached was wide open and bent towards the front.

".... we were thinking you could use one of the isolation rooms for the Animus. There's plenty of power outlets and the excess energy wouldn't be abnormal for an exam room." it was the other man that didn't talk while she was outside.

The others were coming into the building loaded down with boxes, one of which had the strange chair in it. She remembered a red one in the cave that Desmond left behind. This other one was gray and could be packed away in a box. She remembered Mr. Miles saying it was a back up.

"That should be fine. We'll use one of the isolation rooms for sleep, another for the animus and the third in case one of us needs to be further isolated from the others." Mr. Miles says decisively.

The man in the hazmat shakes his head, "I wish you would let us bring you to a larger facility. Each one of you should be in individual rooms and not this."

Desmond barks out a laugh, "And have a break from work? Have you met him?"

"This is just a precaution. The girl is the one that probably has something." Desmond's father states.

"Jesus, Dad! She has a name." Desmond barks annoyed, he looks over his shoulder towards the glass wall separating them. "Sorry about him Heather. He's an asshole to everybody, it's not personal."

She waves it off, she was treated far worse at the Dursley's. Mr. Miles didn't seem to mean anything by it. At least she didn't think he did. "It's fine, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

It takes them a half hour to set up the chair and computers across the hall. They didn't say anything but she had a suspicion that they set it up this way in order to keep an eye on her.

"Alright, I think it's about time to start." one of the hazmat wearing men says, he turns to her a clipboard in his gloved hand. "We should probably start with some basics. Name, place of birth, date of birth... etc etc..?"

Filling out forms... lovely, "Heather Potter. England, London specifically. My birthdate is 31st of July, 1980." she drones out. She wanted to ask for the forms but she had a feeling they weren't going to let her fill them out because of possible contamination.

Mr. Hastings over in the other room typing, turns to the computer room's window, "Repeat that date."

"July 31, 1980."

The historian lifts a brow, "So you're?"

"17 right now, I'll be 18 in a couple of months." Not everyone was good at math. It's a bit odd that Mr. Hastings was one of those people... he didn't seem like an unintelligent fellow.

The man stands up and looks over towards the others, his eyes wide.

She blinks at them, "What?"

Chapter Text

It's 2012.

Fourteen and a half years beyond her time. Christmas was even a couple of days away when it's suppose to be the beginning of summer...

Computer monitors were flat now... mobiles (or cellphones as they called them) were more common and in everyone's pocket. They didn't fold much anymore either.

"So do you know the name Adolf Hitler?" Mr. Hastings asks. He was positively fascinated by the whole ordeal. He was trying to figure out if her world was just fourteen and half years behind them or if she might have time traveled along with going to another Earth.

He was in the hallway right outside the wall length window taking notes. Apparently the hallway was sealed off and part of the isolation rooms. Not that she was allowed out of her's.

Letting out a sigh she answers what feels like the hundredth question. "Yes, he was the dictator of Germany during WWII, mass murderer, responsible for the death of over 6 million Jews."

"And his death?" the man continues.

"Suicide by gunshot." she barely remembered this. It was one of the rare times she managed to stay awake during Binn's lectures. It was probably because it wasn't a goblin rebellion.

The historian rubs his chin thoughtfully, "Was there any signs of foul play?"

Foul play? Hermoine giving her an exasperated look flashes through her mind, with it the remembered feeling of inadequacy that tended to happen when she forgot a detail that was suppose to be common knowledge. If the other girl was here she would be gleefully answering his questions and asking her own.

"I don't remember anything about foul play." it was the only answer she really had.

Mr. Hastings nods, "Well the general public believed it was suicide here as well, even if it wasn't."

"What was it if it wasn't suicide?" she couldn't help but ask.

The man teeth flash in a gleeful predatory smile, something that looked completely unnatural on the man's face, "Assassination."

"Shaun, are you going to come in here and actually work?" Rebecca calls from the other isolation room.

The man huffs and turns to the other floor length glass wall, "I thought you were synchronizing the animus."

"That's just it, it's not working. I can't figure out the problem, I need a second set of eyes that actually knows Baby's systems."

Desmond was in the weird chair with a headset over his eyes and a wire attached to his arm. His eyes looked glassy. Some part of her was alarmed by the look, it wasn't natural.. the animus wasn't natural somehow. Mr. Miles on the other hand was typing at another computer ignoring everyone.

Mr. Hastings lets out a sigh, "Fine." he turns to her, "I'm going to download some history tests for you. I'm certain you need something to occupy your time."

He reminded her a bit of Hermoine, right down to the bossy attitude. "Just so you know, I wasn't even close to the top of my history class. Bit of a dull subject considering the teacher, the man was dead boring."

She couldn't help adding the pun, if Fred was watching from the afterlife he would demand nothing less.

The former Professor turns away, shakes his head and says something under his breath but goes to help Rebecca with the wires and programing of the machine she was working on.

Not having anything better to do (she was tired of crying to herself) she turns to the isolation room in thought.

The room had two hospital beds and an armchair. Both beds were made up with pillows and those rough woven white blankets that hospitals tend to have. There wasn't much other equipment. A heart monitor, an IV stand and a small dresser was all that was left.

The CDC doctor moved the bulk of the equipment somewhere else. There was room for another half dozen beds but the doctor wanted to minimize cross-contamination from her and the equipment if he could.

For her sanity, there was one of those flat T.V.s mounted on the wall.

Thinking it over she closes the curtains enough so that the bed nearest the glass wall was blocked from view. She'll use that one to sleep in. She take the blankets and pillows off the second bed, leaving only the sheet.

Considering the situation, she was certain she was going to go stir crazy. She needed somewhere other then the armchair to sit.

Finally she closes up a set of privacy curtains over an area that was meant for another bed that wasn't there. She puts her trunk inside the curtains, for when she needed to change... or to privately go through her things.

"What do you mean it isn't the SAME?" Mr. Miles barks across the hall.

Curious, Heather walks over to the wall to listen to the group.

Ms. Crane rolls her chair back and points at her computer monitor, "Before the temple he only had a hint of a triple helix, making him about 3% Izu... you know that. But somehow the third polynucleotide isn't a hint anymore, it's fully formed."

Bill gets up and goes over to her computer, Rebecca moves and let's him take her chair. Minutes pass of him clicking and typing, his expression becoming more and more baffled. Eventually he flips a switch.

"Desmond, we're pulling you out. There's something you need to see."

The hum coming from the chair dies down and the weird screen over his eyes retracts. Desmond's eyes clear and sharpen. He blinks and rubs his neck as he stretches it. "I was almost done with the sequence. What's up?"

"Look at the chart. Instead of a double helix your DNA is reading a triple helix." His father barks.

Desmond moves the chair's screen aside and gets up. He goes and looks over his father's shoulder at the screen his brow furrowed, "Okay, so it's changed. I don't feel any different. Is the animus going to work the same?"

Ms. Crane shrugs and waves a hand side to side, "Better probably, the animus was based on Izu tech for the Izu themselves."

Desmond rakes his hand through his hair and then shrugs "Well we can't do anything about it."

Mr. Miles didn't like that apparently, he growls and snaps at his son, "This is serious! How did it happen, when did it happen, does it have an effect on your memories. You are being entirely too dismissive about this Desmond!"

The two glare at each other, Heather could practically see them building themselves up for a fight.

"It probably happened when he healed after dying." Heather says without thinking.

All four heads snap in her direction, she had the distinct impression that they forgot she was there.

Mr. Miles expression goes blank, "Explain." he demands coldly.

"Transfiguration can be used in healing. Like turning a broken bone into a whole one. Professor Dumbledore was the one that was guiding the energy into Desmond to heal him and I know he's an expert in the subject. Perhaps he healed more then he was suppose to?"

"Being human isn't something that needs to be healed." Mr. Miles snarls.

Heather lifts an incredulous brow at him, "I know that, I'm saying perhaps he healed something that seemed damaged but wasn't."

After a few moments of thought, Desmond shrugs, "Well we can't exactly ask him and we can't undo it. What's done is done."

---------------------------------

Desmond figured that they were in a bit of a impasse when it came to the animus or work in general.

He went through Altair's memories because he was forced to. He went though Ezio's to learn his skills but later to find the apple and then to see what the Izu wanted from him. And finally he went through Conner's memories to find the key to the Grand Temple.

The world was saved but what's next?

He had Ezio's skills but he couldn't go out and bring the fight to the Templars. Shaun and his dad were busy helping Assassins in the field. According to reports the Templars didn't expect the world to survive and because it did they left multiple things vulnerable, creating opportunities that needed to be taken advantage of right away. Rebecca was busy working on sequencing his DNA properly and researching to find a new ancestor for him to look into.

He wasn't exactly enthused at the prospect but he had the history and now the genetics to handle the strain.

"Alright we have the samples from your dimensional transplant." Dr. Gregory Stoll seemed to be a serious sort of doctor only interested in doing his job, unlike his counterpart Dr. Neil Richards, who was constantly cracking jokes. "Ms. Crane, I believed you requested this."

The doctor hands over a small test tube with a wire hanging out of the top. Looking more closely, he notices that the wire that was inside had the same type of needle that went into his arm when he hooked up to the Animus. The lip was sealed with some sort of plastic and tape mix and the other end of the wire hung out of the top, obviously prepared to be plugged into her computer.

"Excellent" his dad nods, satisfaction practically oozing off the man, "We'll get to analyzing that."

They didn't say it out loud but Bill still thought that the girl might be Juno. He personally didn't think so but it didn't hurt to at least explore the possibility.

"How are you handling her food situation?" Shaun asks curiously.

Dr. Stoll looks away from the mobile computer he was typing on and sighs, "We're going to deal with it the same way doctors deal with someone with Immunodeficiency or SCID. We're going to have to slowly introduce food items. This is an extreme dangerous situation especially for her. There's no telling how her microbiology is going to react to the microbiology of our world."

"It's not going to be as much of a problem as you might think." Heather calls out looking away from the TV in her isolation room. The glass wall and the sterile environment beyond gave him the same impression as one of those refrigerators for storing full bouquets in vases that you sometimes see in stores, Everything except the single light from the TV was dim and blank. The room was almost completely dark. "My people are more resilient to illnesses and other things. I can drink a lot more alcohol as just an example."

She looked a bit tired or bored. They still haven't feed her anything and it's been at least a day. It was going to start being an issue because he's fairly certain she didn't eat before she came to this world.

"Is that a scientific finding or are you boasting?" Shaun asks his brow raised.

"Scientific, Hermoine read up on the differences between us and muggles at one point. I think she said our blood alcohol level would have to be about 5% before it becomes poisonous."

"Are you sure that's not .5%?" the doctor asks faintly.

Heather shakes her head, "I remember the number because Hermoine was so shocked at it. I think she was trying to convince us not to drink the fire whiskey the twins kept smuggling in. Backfired on her a bit. Turns out we can drink pure rubbing alcohol and be fine."

"That Dumble guy said something about being 156 years old. Is that normal or one of your differences?" Desmond asks curiously.

"He was? I didn't know we could get that old... well at least normally.." she blinks her eyes widening, "How do you know he was that old?"

"I talked to him after you left."

"Really? But I took you with me?" she muses, "Well, it was the crossroads, time probably works in an odd way there."

Shaun sucks in a shocked breath, "That's why it changed!"

It takes a moment for him to figure out what they were talking about, "From the farm to the train station?" Desmond asks. He had been wondering about that.

"You don't know about crossroads?" Heather blinks a thoughtful look crossing her face, "It's a place between realms, life and death most notably, it mirrors a place where you had a choice to continue the path you were going on or to go on another. It's usually a place associated with the most pivotal decision of your life. Mine was at Kingscross. You must have made a life changing choice at that farm."

"I ran away from home... and never returned.." Desmond admits faintly, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He's never felt something so unnervingly accurate.. and deeply personal.

The girl nods, a solemn look on her face. He could tell that she understood.

"Where's Richards? Wasn't he suppose to bring some food?" Rebecca asks breaking the strange silence that seemed to stretch over the room.

Dr. Stoll shakes his head, "He had some last minute Christmas shopping to do. I'm doing the supply run after I shore up everything here. I already ordered some takeout to tide you over. It should be here before I leave."

"Is there any new information coming from your government sources?" Bill asks glancing up from his computer screen.
Stoll snorts, "Other then to check our containment status? Not a damn thing. Every department head up and down every branch of government is running around like a chickens with their heads cut off."

Bill nods, "You mean verses any other Tuesday?"

The doctor gives an undignified snort.

"What's that noise?" Desmond could hear something outside the rooms and hallway.

Stoll stops taking his blood pressure and listens, "Sounds like Richard's truck. He must have finished early. Maybe I don't have to go to the store."

He resumes taking blood pressure and gathering samples of various fluids. Sure enough, Dr. Richards comes into the hallway a couple minutes later in a full hazmat suit with multiple takeout bags.

"I got the food." he goes to the dresser they didn't move out of the room and sets them down.

Stoll lets out a sigh, "I already ordered food."

"I know, I felt kinda bad about leaving you with the shopping so I went to pick it up for ya'll before I head out. You know before Christmas that hamburger place is up to their eyeballs with orders. They would have taken forever to get here."

"Thanks" Stoll sighs and gives one of the bags to Rebecca. "Alright, we're done here. Eat up. I'll go and get some safe rations for our extraterrestrial."

As the two step out of the room, Desmond spots something odd. Richards was watching Rebecca closely as she unwraps her burger and goes to take a bite. There was something off...

He leaps forward and grabs her wrist just as a hiss and click fills the room.

"Desmond! What are you...?"

He turns towards the door. Richards had a satisfied look in his eye. The hiss and click was the door sealing itself... Stoll was looking between them wide-eyed.

The man steps forwards, "What the hell do you think you're doing Neil!!"

Richards pulls a gun out and points it at the other doctor. They were alone in the hallway, but with the windows they could all see the sudden shift in the happy go lucky doctor, "It's Christmas and I just won the god damn lottery." He aligns the pistol's sights with the other doctor's head, "Now, take off the suit Stoll... and get into the girl's ward."

"Are you fucking insane! We have no idea what infectious diseases she has. She could have something that could kill half the Eastern seaboard in days."

The traitor chuckles, "Your choice Stoll. The Templars are going to need test subjects, they'll try to keep you alive once they get here... or you can die now?"

Desmond tries to force the door open, it doesn't budge. He didn't know much about the place but he was certain the floor to ceiling windows were bulletproof among other things. The glass was as thick as bricks.

Stoll takes a deep breath and eases the helmet off, the sweat soaked locks were in the shape of a helmet on the man's head. Not having a choice he unzips the suit revealing his scrubs underneath.

"Good enough, in you go." Stoll hesitantly steps into Heather's room. Richards, quickly seals the door behind him.

"You do realize we ARE going to get out of here and you'll be lucky to see the New Year." Bill says calmly, glaring through the glass.

Richards snorts, "One thing I've learned about Assassins, you are far too confident. At the end of the day you're just a man, easily killed. The Templar's Sigma team is already on it's way. You have no chance of getting out of this."

"Are you honestly monologing?" Heather asks, he could tell she was thoroughly amused. She was looking through the glass wall, standing at the opposite side of the room from Stoll. "...and did you say Assassins and Templars?"

The traitorous doctor lets out a incredulous laugh, "You didn't even tell her?" he turns to her glee positively radiating from him, "Couple facts kid, the Templar order controls the world. They work for the collective advancement of mankind. The Assassin brotherhood, these assholes and their relatives specifically, have been murdering, stealing and whoring for hundreds of years, constantly getting in the Order's way. They like to pretend they do things for the good of mankind but they're just encouraging chaos. The whole group is just scum."

Desmond stomach twists at the distressed look on the girl's face, they couldn't let her believe that bullshit, "The Templar's real goal is to enslave mankind. They're behind some of the worst dictators and atrocities in history." He admits, "Just as an example of how they work.... Six months ago, I was just a bartender. I was just living my life and they drugged, kidnapped me and made me into their lab rat. I didn't hurt anyone up to that point or even break any laws that were jail worthy but as soon as I escaped, I was wanted by Interpol for a dozen murders that I hadn't committed."

"And it wasn't long until you started killing anyways." Richards retorts, "They knew it was only a matter of time considering who you're related to." he waves his hand in Bill's direction, he turns back to the girl, "The Templars will take care of you kid. I think they'll be very interested in you. You don't have to worry about a thing."

Heather closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, She slowly lets it out after a moment. She turns to him, ignoring the traitor in the hallway. "I think this place is getting a trifle oppressive, don't you?" She lifts her robe covered arm, she was pointing something out of her sleeve towards his door through the glass, "Alohomora!"

Chapter Text

The flash of red light barely registers before Desmond realized the door handle was moving under his fingers. He doesn't hesitate, he slips through the opening doorway and charges Richards.

The gun swings around towards him, he shifts to the side, his arm going up. Richards readjusts to point it at him.
He triggers his hidden blade in a split second.

Richards screams clutching a new stump, the gun and hand falling to the floor in a spray of dark crimson blood.

Desmond takes a moment to kick the gun (with the disembodied hand still around it) down the hall away from the injured doctor. He takes a deep breath and covers his mouth with the side of his hood. He lets out Dr. Stoll from the girl's room.

Stoll does the sensible thing and immediately runs out of the room and out of the hall going to the emergency shower beyond the isolation rooms. Hopefully the girl's precaution of staying away from him and the doctor's short time inside kept him safe from anything she might have.

He turns to the traitor, his blade still out.

"Desmond wait!" to his surprise it was his dad.

Pausing, he gives him a questioning look.

Bill's jaw was clinched and his eyes were narrowed, "He's been exposed. We can't leave him here and if you kill him now, he'll be dead weight."

"Well if you don't do something about that stump, he's going to be dead weight no matter what you do." Shaun points out pragmatically, before going back in the room to help Rebecca pack up the equipment. This changed things, they were going to have to leave again.

But Shaun was right, Doctor Asshole was going to bleed out.

Desmond swings the small bag he keeps on his back around to the front and rummages in the bottom it. It takes him only a moment to pull out some medical bandages. He goes to grab the man's arm but the girl was already there, kneeling next to him. She had the man's severed hand in hers and she was tying a strip of cloth into knot on the man's upper arm.

"Kid we don't have the skill to reattach that and quite frankly he's not going to have much use for it soon."

Heather quietly shakes her head, her eyes serious but calm, "I know he betrayed every one here and was going to sell all of us to those people but can you spare him? I.... I've seen too much death lately."

Spare him? "I can't promise that." His dad would do it if he didn't. To be honest he'd probably make it quicker.

His dad goes into the computer room, clearly letting him deal with the girl and their new burden.

Heather was the one he was watching however, she swallows hard and nods. It was clear from her expression that she knew it was a long shot.

She turns to Richards' stump, he backs away and lets her handle it. If he didn't have to let go of his weapons with an enemy loose, he wasn't going to.

Richards was pale and he was breathing in little hiccuping like gasps in utter agony. It seemed that he couldn't get enough air in his lungs to scream any more.

The girl hesitates for a moment but surprisingly aligns the severed hand to his arm, holding them together, ignoring the man's low whine of pain. She reaches into one of her pockets and pulls out a small vial about the size of a sample perfume bottle. There was a minuscule cork in the top but enough was above the rim for her to pull it out with her teeth. With no explanation for her odd actions, she pours half the liquid on the cut between his hand and stump.

Confused why she wasn't wrapping the stump and baffled at what she was doing instead, Desmond couldn't help but gasp as the man's flesh emits a small greenish trail of smoke. Richard's wound closes before their very eyes, bridging between the two parts of himself, making him whole again.

The girl lets go of Richard's previously injured hand. The man holds it up, shaking, his cheeks still damp, his eyes wide. His fingers twitch and move.

There was still a red line where the wound had been but it was healed!

Richards seem to realize what that meant at the same moment he did.

The doctor lunges for the girl. Desmond doesn't know what the hell the asshole thought he could do, he was on the ground with no weapon, (maybe take her hostage) but he was right there standing over him.

Lightning fast, he strikes out, hitting the doctor in the temple, knocking him out. "Someone get me some handcuffs!" he calls over his shoulder.

He turns back to the teen who had a look of relief on her face, relief for the solution for the new problem she created herself, a solution he had to provide. It pissed him off.

"What the HELL did you think you were doing?!?" he snaps.

The depressed look she's had on her face the whole time he's known her wasn't there, her expression was calm and in no way phased by his outburst, "He was bleeding out, I repaired the wound, obviously."

"Yeah, you fixed the fucking problem then you made a whole new fucking problem!" He waves at the man on the floor, "If he had any skill he could have made a break for it or injured someone!"

The girl narrows her eyes, the emeralds practically sparking with her indignation, "He wasn't going anywhere!" she scoffs "And I was right here and so were you!"

Shaun comes out of the Isolation room with a pair of cuffs with a raised brow, "What the bloody hell are you two arguing about? And Desmond, handcuffs aren't..." he could tell the very second Shaun spotted Richards' lack of stump. "That's impossible!" he gasps.

"Not to her apparently," he retorts.

There was no use yelling at her anymore, she knew his views on what she did. He grabs the cuffs dangling from the British man's hand and turns to the doctor. The doctor wasn't skilled, that was obvious, but he'd be a fool to cuff the man's hands in front. He rolls the unconscious physician onto his belly and twists his arms behind his back quickly securing his hands together with the cuffs.

"Are you done skulking, Dad?"

The older man had been standing completely still, watching through his peripheral vision. It was an old Assassin trick. Keep completely still and allow yourself to become part of the environment. Do not look directly at a target. Humans had an instinct that sometimes knew when someone was watching them so boldly.

It was part of the training to allow an Assassin to hide in plain sight, to allow an Assassin to gather information without putting a target on their guard.

It said quite a bit about his dad's state of mind. If he was pulling on his Assassin training.

The Brotherhood's mentor ignores him but he stops watching the girl in his peripheral vision and directly meets her narrowed eyes. "You're capable of Telekinesis."

She doesn't answer Bill but she doesn't divert her eyes either. There was a solid something in her gaze, a hint of a spine of steel, something Desmond didn't see the last couple of days. He had a feeling he was seeing the part of the girl that had the strength to sacrifice herself for the greater good. A facet of the 'hero' the old dead professor sung the praises of.

Bill had realized she wasn't going to answer and goes on, "That's an interesting liquid. Perhaps we'll talk about it later." he says quietly, slowly each word measured. Desmond could practically see the cogs turning in his dad's head. That liquid, if it could be replicated could save lives and perhaps even give the brotherhood an edge. "As for the doctor, my son is correct. He needed to be healed but doing so could have gone badly. Next time there is a need to do something similar, a warning would be appreciated."

She doesn't roll her eyes but he could tell it was a close thing, "Fine, have it your way." She turns and returns to her isolation room, clearly dismissing them.

"Get packed. We're changing locations." his dad orders the girl's retreating back.

-----------------------------

Everyone rushed to pack up and load their things into the van. She may have arranged her glorified hospital prison cell for the long hall, but the one thing she didn't quite manage to do was to unpack any of her things.

Did she do that subconsciously realizing this place was very temporary or was it her strangely specific 'Luck' being kind for a change?

She drags her trunk out and instead of leaving it separate from the other's boxes and storage containers, she moves things around and puts it on the bottom.

She went through it earlier and it only had clothes but she wasn't going to take the chance in case she didn't find something in the folds. She certainly wasn't going to make it easy for it to be searched as soon as she turns her back.
She was sure he thought he was being slick, but Desmond's father was not fooling her. She sure as hell realized that the middle aged man was watching her more then he had been earlier. He was even watching right now.

A witch's eyesight was not like a muggle's. She didn't know exactly what the difference was but there was an actual physical disparity between the two, a difference that was not magical in nature.

That being said, something that should be moving but wasn't, actually drew her eye instead of causing her sight to slide past it.

She reasoned, it must be some Assassin trick he was trying on her. The whole standing still in the shadow thing was unnatural enough for her to even feel it.

And Assassins...?

She already realized that they weren't mindless killers. No more then she was an old crone that was out to steal and eat little children. When judging people you look at how they treat the people below them. When judging a group, you look at why, how and who or what they fight.

In the in between no one could lie. It was something that was clearly communicated even though she couldn't explain how she knew this.

Desmond and the old man he met didn't lie. Desmond saved the world by sacrificing himself. The traitor doctor was going to sell them to the enemy who had been willing to let the world burn. (They called them Templars? Like the crusade knights?)

That made these 'assassins' on the right side of things even if she disagreed with their methods, disagreed with killing people even if they deserved it.

"You shouldn't be outside without protective gear." It was Dr. Stoll. He was in a full hazmat suit again. She could see through the face shield that his hair was wet. He must have cleaned himself up. The isolation room they had been in was enormous, he was covering his mouth and he was only in it for a minute or two.

She lets out a sigh and nods, "I'll go get a mask."

"No, you need to be in a full suit." he counters and waves her towards the doors of the lab, She follows, "Ms. Crane was able to find the flight records for the Templars coming here. They're not due to land for another hour and we're a bit from the airport so it'll take them even more time to get here. According to his phone's records, Neil only called once since your arrival and it was in the lab with a surveillance camera. He didn't mention me so I'm staying behind to wipe the lab...of everything."

"Quite, literally, I assume."

The man barks out a laugh, "Yes, I'm going to have to do it in a rush and speed away so they don't realize I was here."

They reach the end of the hall, the doctor has her wait as he goes beyond the sheets of plastic keeping the rest of the building sterile. He grabs a hold of another folded hazmat suit and reenters the hall.

He pulls something out of a pocket, it was a phone, a flip type. "It's a burner phone. It has my number." she gives him a questioning look, "I heard what you said about sparing Neil. Not everyone in the brotherhood is an advocate of killing. The others have my number for emergency purposes but I thought you might like to have a way to talk to someone who isn't up Bill's ass. That and if you have any medical issues you don't want to share with the others, you can have a line directly to me."

She blinks, wasn't he their ally, "Why?"

"Because you should be able to consult a doctor without having to reveal any issues to others. That and it's none of their fucking business."

She barks out a laugh, she honestly didn't expect that from the straight laced doctor, "Thank you." and she meant it. The whole assassin thing it was... a lot.

The man nods, "Let's get you suited up, they're going to be ready to go soon."

Chapter Text

They drove long into the night.

Bill caught multiple cat naps during the day while heading to the CDC facility so he wasn't as tired as the team who were up all day.

"Is she..?" he asks Desmond, under his breath.

His son nods, "Out like a light."

They packed up the laboratory's entire supply of freeze dried food, it was the safest thing they had for the girl to eat. The doctor gave them the labs' entire supply of sterilized water as well.

She ate as soon as they loaded up the van. She inhaled almost three of the ready made meals in one go.

He didn't realize how hungry or thirsty the girl was. He would only admit it to himself but they probably should have fed her ages ago. It was clear now that she had been starving, perhaps even before entering this world. Why she didn't mention it, he didn't know. Perhaps she was used to starving. She was small enough that it was a possibility. He was kicking himself for not considering it.

Then again her being overly full and sleeping it off, played in their favor.

"Rebecca, what are the results?" she looks up from the computer analyzing the girl's blood.

"She's definitely not an Isu." she turns the screen over towards them, "Her DNA is.. weird... like really weird." seeing the looks that were no doubt on their faces she tries to explain, "Humans double helix DNA looks like a twisted ladder, Isu Triple looks similar but more 3D. Her DNA looks like a really long flat waffle... it's weird."

Shaun throws a incredulously look over his shoulder before drawing his gaze back to the road, "Waffle?... That is the most vile American description I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

"It looks exactly how I described it, Asshole." she retorts.

He gives her another glance, "Fine how many polynucleotides does this long waffle DNA have?"

Rebecca rolls her eyes but looks closely at the DNA chart that was on the screen, "It looks like seven."

"So does this mean she's more highly evolved?" Desmond asks, and it was a good question.

"Unknown," He cuts in to inform his son, "There are rare natural occurrences of triple helix DNA in nature that isn't related to the Isu, it's usually a sign of weakness in an organism. Who knows what more means."

They all fall silent, thinking of the possibilities.

"The Templars can NOT get their hands on her." he decides. Who knew what she could do with Telekinesis, unlocking doors might be the least of it. Was her ability strong enough to snap someone's neck? Could she lift someone high enough in the air to achieve terminal velocity with a sudden drop?

A Templar with even one of those abilities would be a nightmare. And there was no doubt the Templars would manipulate the situation in any way they could to gain those abilities. Well, if they find out about them. If the girl was lucky they'd take blood samples... if she wasn't... better not to think about it.

He looks up at Desmond's face, his son had a silent 'I told you so' all over him.

Of coarse he does, he never passed up an opportunity to rub something in his face. Why would now be any different.

"So where are we going?" Shaun asks. He told him earlier to go East and keep going. They were currently on an interstate.

"An area near a port of call, I'm still deciding which one. We need to lay low for the two week isolation period." Dr. Stoll outlined what they needed to do since it wasn't safe. Being near a major metropolis was the last place they should go but they needed to blend in. The Templars would expect them to go somewhere in the countryside. They would have to be extremely careful.

"We need supplies." Rebecca points out. It wasn't necessary to remind him. It's something he's been worrying about the last couple of days.

"We're already pushing it going to a major city, we can't risk going into a grocery store. We have no way of keeping other's safe without drawing attention and the areas we're going to are surveillance hubs," they couldn't eat the girl's food. It was the only safe thing she could eat for the next couple of weeks.... maybe longer. They would probably have to break into somewhere covered in protective gear. Damn Richards, he caused more problems then just alerting the Templars.

Desmond hums quietly. There was a light in his eye, the same one that was always present when he was thinking outside the box, "I have an idea, it's distasteful though."

"An idea is an idea. We're at the bottom of the barrel, Des. Let's hear it." Rebecca prompts.

"Okay, what about I shave my head and eyebrows, go completely bald." Desmond suggests, "I can put on some light colored sweats and some slippers. Basically I make myself look like I'm sick and then put on the backpack oxygen tank with mask? It would make me look like I have cancer or something similar, I even have the marks from the IV on my arm to give it credence. I can shop like that... added bonus, the cameras won't pick up on who I am because of the gear."

"It would work.... and keep everyone in the store safe." It was moments like this that reminded him that his son really was a born Assassin...

"We can put on a thin layer of foundation on your arms and head too." Rebecca grins and nods getting into it, "It'll be easy to make you look paler and give you dark bags under your eyes."

"It's a solid plan, let's do it."

-------------------------------------

It was the same concept as dressing as clergy in the middle ages, he was dressing as a man that would not normally have a weapon... as someone who would not normally have a chance in a fight. Still the part of him that had solid unyielding morals shuddered each time another shopper sent him a sympathetic look.

Desmond had to keep silently reminding himself that he was doing it to keep them safe. Still having people around him tripping over themselves to help him, made him silently cringe. He had to practically fight the bag boy off with a stick just so he could take his own groceries to the van by himself.

But even he had to admit, it worked like a charm.

"They didn't have any loose-leaf tea Shaun, I had to get you bags instead." It was code for no enemy activity sighted. 'Tea' and 'Shaun' together in a sentence belonged... if he said 'Tea' and 'Rebecca' it would signal them to stay hidden, because something wasn't right.

Shaun sticks his head out of the window and rolls his eyes, he was a bit offended at the stereotype but he went along with it. Desmond suspected he was going to use it as ammo later in whatever argument crops up.

It was early morning. Richards was still drugged and cuffed. Heather turned over in her sleep. She was on some pillows she grabbed from the lab. Everyone else were either working or on watch.

"That's fine, as long as it's not those bitter herbal teas." Shaun retorts and looks down at his haul, "Tequila? Well I guess it's better then Pop... and you got peanut butter..." he lets out a sigh, turning to give him a look.

His dad pokes his head out the door, "Critique the menu choices later Shaun. We need to get going."

It was a lot of food and it took a bit to get it all in the van. It was enough that he had to poke the girl awake to make room for the bags. Still, it didn't take long considering how much he bought.

"Shawn head to New Jersey. Freighter is renovating an old hotel there. It's empty."

It takes an hour and a half to reach the hotel that the unknown assassin had been working on. It had electricity but it was mostly boarded up. They had to park in an underground parking garage. It was a very large building, at least a couple hundred guest rooms.

"Good to see you Mentor." This must be the mysterious 'Freighter'. He was in a hazmat suit, and according to the printed markings, it was stolen from a local hospital. Through the face shield, he could see the man's skin which was like cracked leather, the few hairs showing were grey bordering on pure white. He made his dad look like a spring chicken.

Everything about the guy screamed 'retired' but willing to do favors for old friends.

All of them changed into hazmat suits as well, he even forced Richards into a suit, ignoring the traitor's cursing from being manhandled.

"You want me to dispose of this." Freighter asks, indicating Richards who was glaring at him. His dad relayed part of the situation to the man over the phone, earlier. The old assassin made it clear what he thought they should do with the traitor.

Bill shakes his head, "He's an infectiologist. As long as he makes himself useful, we'll keep him around." His dad turns to them, "This is Freighter, not his real name obviously, he retired before Danial Cross joined the Brotherhood so he was never exposed. His generation is pretty large compared to the brotherhood's current membership so they still step in on occasion to help with menial tasks like providing sanctuary."

It was clear, at least to him, that his dad was explaining all of this for the girl's benefit.

His dad turns back to Freighter, "This is my son Desmond; the team's current field Specialist, Rebecca Crane; tech support and animus specialist, Shaun Hastings; keeper of our information archives for the last few years and ... an initiate." he says reluctantly, pointedly not saying Heather's name. "She's the reason we're going into quarantine, it's not her fault but the circumstances are classified, need to know only, even for the old guard."

The old assassin nods, "Understood, there's a couple baggage carts in the elevator to help you move everything, let's get you settled."

----------------------------

There were a few suites up top that could serve as a good place for them to sleep or stay isolated. There was also a large venue hall with an adjacent kitchen. It was for weddings and other parties but it had the required electrical needs for the Animus and computers.

Added bonus it had room for the groceries in the kitchen.

Personally, Heather liked the glass dome above them. It reminded her Hogwart's Great hall. Some small part of her could pretend for a moment that this was all just a fanciful dream and not her new reality.

The assassins even set up a tarp over their work area so the Animus wasn't visible from the sky.

"How's your stomach?"

Shortly after Desmond woke her that morning, her middle twisted. It was Bill Miles' quick action that kept the entire back of the van from being covered in the contents of her stomach. Dr. Stoll apparently took him aside and informed him on what to expect. Because of that, Mr. Miles had vomit bags at the ready for just that occasion.

"Laying down helped." she informs Mr. Miles, "I'm still a bit queasy though." Her body was going to reject the food for a few days as she adjusts to this world's bacteria and such.

Hopefully she adjusts like someone going to a foreign country. It was the optimal scenario. The alternate scenarios weren't pretty, she especially didn't like the one that involved her vomiting everything up to the point of dying from the strain or from dehydration itself.

The man nods, "Stoll packed some electrolytes that should be safe for you. He said that after you vomit you should hold off on eating anything for a couple hours at the very least. You should eat light also. There are some crackers and jello packets in the food he approved for you."

Jello... it was one of the 'desserts' that Dudley's school nurse approved for him when he was forced on a diet. By the end of his weight loss, her cousin HATED Jello. Luckily for her, she was never allowed dessert in the Dursley household, so she never developed a dislike of it. Hopefully she likes it... she had a feeling she was going to be eating it for awhile.

She heads to the kitchen and sets to make the concoction in a sterilized metal bowl, but only after carefully reading the instructions and using the approved ingredients from her doctor.

"Jello? You didn't make that for everybody did you?" Desmond asks coming into the kitchen. The spot where his eyebrows should be was shaved clean, along with his gleaming head. With the layer of makeup he really did look sickly...

He had his arms full with a turkey and ham. He forgot it was Christmas Eve earlier and he insisted that they at least go to another store and get something to mark the occasion before closing time. She wasn't certain but she had the impression that the man wanted to celebrate being alive after his ordeal and not so much the holiday itself.

She snorts, "Depends on whether I like it or not. Besides you have..." she pointedly looks at the food he bought while she laid down and recovered.

He nods as he puts his shopping in the large refrigerator. He turns back to her and grimaces, "Sorry about," he points to the refrigerator and his recent burden, "I don't mean to rub it in."

"It's Christmas for you. I'm still adjusting to Summer not starting." she informs him quietly.

She wraps her bowl of Jello in cling-wrap and set it in the fridge to solidify before leaving the room.

"All's quiet at the facility. Stoll wasn't made." Mr. Miles says as they reenter the reception hall.

"I'm guessing they have a APB out for Richards." Desmond surmises.

"Naturally."

They cleared out a large utility closet with a pretty solid door. It couldn't be unlocked except with a key, either from the inside or from the outside. Richards was put in there with couple comforters, a bucket with toilet paper and a couple water bottles.

They also gave him a sandwich before stuffing him in the room.

Heather didn't want the man dead but it seemed she couldn't do anything to prevent them from killing him. ... Well actually she could but the Assassin's were on the right side of things and letting go of the doctor would help their enemy. It would put herself, the Assassins, and Dr. Stoll who did nothing but help her, in danger.

She was tempted to intervene. She could solve the problem in multiple ways. She could try to erase his memory. Yes, she could cause lasting damage to his brain but it's better then being dead. She could change him into an animal that couldn't communicate but he wouldn't be human... or she could force an oath out of him the would prevent him from speaking of them.

All those solutions though would involve exposing the fact that she wasn't a 'telekinetic' like the assassin's thought.
What would they do if they found out about her magic? Did they even have the concept of magic? How about witches?... Without witches in the world would they know what they are? If the witch hunts didn't happen then did the inquisition not happen?

She would have to probe them somehow without revealing anything.

An idea spawns as she sees her fellow Brit grimace at the empty cup he brought to his lips.

"You might as well read your tea leaves, I think it's gone."

He was at his computers watching the readings, it was why he tried to absentmindedly drink from an empty cup.

"It was coffee actually." he pauses and glances at her. "You have that nonsense there too?"

"Divination?" at his nod, she dips her head, "Yes, not a fan of the subject. I took it as an elective. I ended up failing the finals in it and then I dropped the class entirely. I think it was because Professor Trelawney kept predicting my death. Like really, how can you expect someone concentrate on their studies if you keep harping on them that their time in the world is short."

She really should have expected something like this considering the professor's wording. The seer might have been into the questionable side of Divination but she did have the gift.

The man looked both flabbergasted and intrigued. "Were those her exact words?"

She nods, "Yes, and considering where I am, I do recognize the irony."

"Did she use some sort of math or machine to help her make her predictions?" William Miles asks, actually looking up from his computer. He probably didn't realize it but that was one of his tells. She's noticed that he doesn't look away from those monitors if he isn't probing for information from a conversation.

She shakes her head, "The woman dressed from head to toe in scarves and bangles. There was not a mathematical bone in her body, though she was still fairly accurate."

"She was a charlatan in other words." Mr. Miles says with an unimpressed look, going back to his computer.

"Many people thought so, but some others, not so much..." she didn't mention that she did believe the woman no matter how frustrating she had been.

"I'm more interested in it being some sort of official class." there was a thoughtful look on the historian's face.

Rebecca pipes in, "I think it's kinda cool. At her age, I got into the whole goth thing. I would have totally taken that class."

Shaun gives the hacker an unimpressed look, "If the class was offered in an actual school then someone in the administration thought there was some productive use for it.... which is something that would NOT be done here, unless it was to study scams. So that means there is a significant difference in some sort of sociatial belief..."

"So fortune telling actually exists here... along with people who disbelieve it. What other myths exist in this world?" she asks, seeing the opening.

It was a smooth transition, Mr. Hasting didn't seem to give her a look at the question but instead enthusiastically goes into a lecture on the subject, giving her exactly the information she wanted.

Chapter Text

Rebecca had to admit it was a nice Christmas. It was good to have a moment from everything, to celebrate Desmond living and the world being saved. No one said anything about it but the loss of Lucy still marked the day. The remembered plans to go out and have some 'fun' never realized in the end because of the gaping hole left from her death.

She had to remind herself that specific future was a small but impossible dream. In the end Lucy had been on the Templar's side. She was gone by Desmond's blade and Juno's will. As much as it hurt to admit it her death was necessary for the world to live.

"No signs." the two weeks of isolation was almost up but the search for Juno was just beginning. "They're just getting the cellphone towers and internet back up, Bill. It's going to take them awhile to get back to pre-solar flare levels. And I doubt she's going to leave traces considering what she is."

The middle aged man nods, "Agreed. What I want you to do is to research networks that can handle that AI or at least the closest you can find."

"Already on it." she swings the monitor around, "I've been breaking into computer company databases and getting sale records, not the financial details, that has some serious security around it. I've been looking into who exactly is buying the servers with the most bytes. If Juno is out and about in the world she's going to the ones with the largest storage capacity and processing power. It would have to be a huge network to deal with even half of a regular human mind and if Juno's boasting was anything to go by.."

"It would have to be as large as possible, "Bill cuts in and nods, "Good work, keep it up."

Rebecca shakes her head, "Don't thank me yet. There's still thousands of networks involved. This might take years to get through. I've been setting up a way to coordinate with Bishop. She might have some other ideas."

She didn't have to tell him that they would probably have to bring more hackers in for the hunt. But it was a forgone conclusion, he already knew it.

"No, the answer to 'What ended in 1865?' is not 1864!" Shaun tells Heather. They were far across the room and like promised he been giving her a series of history tests. At least for the girl he's been spreading them out over a few days.

The teen doesn't even try to hide her eye roll, "If I didn't put a real answer down, I obviously don't know the answer." To be honest she's been real accommodating to Shaun's questioning. Rebecca was surprised it's taken her this long to get irritated.

"Just leave them blank then..."

Desmond, who was in the Animus exploring the fallout after Connor's personal war, was obviously listening in to the raised voices, that is if the man's chuckle was anything to judge by. "I don't know Shaun..."

"Don't you say it's technically right!" Shaun says turning to the prone man.

Desmond doesn't hold back and outright laughs, "Okay okay... "

The girl didn't have the hazmat suit on anymore. After consulting Dr. Stoll, the man concluded that they probably would have already shown signs of something if she was contagious. Sleeping in the same room, especially one with minimal airflow would have given them any airborne diseases she had, and the break-room at the warehouse counted as that.

She was quickly adapting to the local germs, she only became sick a couple more times. About a week of eating the freeze dried food the girl said her equivalent of 'fuck it' and ate some their food. It was one of the times she ended up getting sick but she didn't let it stop her, she continued to eat their food. Lucky for them she started to actually cook the food too.

Their original group was comprised of many talents, but cooking, unfortunately was not one of them. At least cooking beyond sandwiches and scrambled eggs.

A familiar humming cuts into her thoughts, Desmond been doing it alot lately, "Are you sailing again Des?" he had a habit of going along with the sea shanties.

The man body blinks blankly, "Uhh no? Why you think so?"

"You're mumbling 'Homeward bound' again. Got an ear worm?" She was starting to worry, Conner's crew didn't sing much and Desmond wasn't like Shaun, regular people didn't know the words to many of these songs, at least not off the top of their heads.

He shifts a bit uneasily in the animus. "No, I umm. I'm remembering something.."

"While in the Animus?" that wasn't good, that really wasn't good. People didn't bleed inside the animus, it was outside the animus that problems happened.

He lets out a breath, "It's not what you think. It's complicated,.. I think." He shifts again and continues, "The bleeding effect is the memories overriding what I'm actually seeing, like an projection over reality, right?"

"And what your remembering isn't like that?"

She was sure if he wasn't in the animus he would be shaking his head, "No, it's... it's like I'm remembering a long forgotten memory. Like remembering a holiday or a lesson when I was young."

"Only you're remembering things that you never experienced." she concludes.

He does nod this time, his eyes flicker a bit as he connects and disconnects from the Animus because of the head movement, "It was the sailor I told you about. Ever since I've come back from the dead I've been remembering things more clearly but not in the form of the bleeding effect."

"Is there any signs of Identity substitution? Do you still feel like yourself when you're remembering them?" It was rare but with how many ancestors Desmond was gathering the memories of it was a real concern.

He again shakes his head, "I remember I'm me but I'm remembering that the memory belonged to this other person, like watching a TV show from a person's point of view. The guy was sailing in the memory, he was giving orders to someone named Adéwalé, I think? The memory was focused around the song though. He was enjoying himself."

Bill looks over from his computer. "Well I can tell you it's probably a real memory. Adéwalé was the name of an ex-slave and very well known Assassin. He lived during the end of the pirate age. There's a high probability that it's the same man."

"Maybe this is the beginning of what we talked about." Shaun cuts in as he settles down at his computer instead of at the table on the far side of the room with Heather, "It's theoretically possible to access your ancestor's memories outside the animus. Your animus use could have triggered the ability."

"Or perhaps it's always been possible for an Isu and I'm just discovering the ability." Desmond sighs. He hasn't said much about it but Rebecca could tell that the whole 'You're a full blooded Isu' thing was really bothering him.

No one had anything to add to Desmond's speculation, so they slip into an uneasy silence, each one of them going back to their work.

"Here, I answered what I can." Heather cuts in handing Shaun's latest test to the man. It had to be at least a good 20 pages thick.

Shaun didn't look impressed, "You can not tell me that you read all of this."

The girl gives a jaw cracking yawn, "No but I skimmed it. I don't know anything about the Indus valley civilization and I only know the basics of the Roman and ancient Egyptian civilizations. I answered what I remembered. I do have a dictionary for the runes on the tablets connected to the Indus section though. Hermoine took ancient runes as an elective and some of her stuff accidentally came with me. I remember some of those symbols from glancing at her homework."

Rebecca looks over at Shaun who was pale and blinking at the girl, he turns and meets her gaze, his eyes were so wide she was almost sure they would fall out at any moment.

She didn't know much about the Indus valley civilization, no body really does, but she did know that there was no way of translating the language. There wasn't a convenient Rosetta stone for it. It was a massive historical mystery, at least if Shaun was to be believed. He certainly spoke of it enough times.

He's been hoping to find someone with an ancestor from that time and era for ages just for the purpose of translating.

"Th.. the book." Shaun croaks out, the girl was vaguely looking towards Desmond direction, she was blurry eyed, "Can I... borrow your friend's dictionary?"

"Sure, I'll go get it." she yawns and gets up from the chair she flopped into earlier. She leaves the room and walks out at a casual pace, not realizing that she left a half crazed historian in her wake.

Amused, she couldn't help turning to him, "Scanner is in the bottom of the box with the spare keyboard. If what she has is what we think it is you're going to need to hook it up."

Shaun leaps up and practically tackles the box as he goes to get the scanner.

"Hey, Rebecca pull me out." Desmond asks. She didn't blame him, Shaun spazing over some bit of history was prime entertainment. Bill didn't look impressed but he doesn't say anything, he was letting them have their entertainment in peace.

The girl comes back a few minutes later and surprises them. Instead of a smallish book, she comes out with a old looking tome, at least six inches thick and larger then the counter top of a bed sized table. It was so big and unwieldy the girl had to use both ARMS to carry it.

"What the Bloody Hell!?!" Shaun says as she drops the old leather bound slab onto his table. A little cloud of dust comes up from the book... it's looked very OLD but very sturdy.

"Hermoine apparently checked out the school's copy and forgot to return it." Heather says with a grimace. "I couldn't find her convenient pocket sized one."

"That's been in your trunk this whole time. How do you even have room for your clothes?" Desmond asks incredulously. "Hell, how can you lose the other book with so little room left?"

Heather shrugs, "I'm very good at packing." It might be her imagination but Rebecca thought she looked vaguely amused, at their reactions or something else she wasn't quite sure.

Shaun didn't look like he cared how it got there, but he did look a bit overwhelmed. They were definitely going to need a bigger scanner for it.

"I'll go look up methods of scanning large books, Shaun. Just read it for now."

Desmond suddenly starts chuckling, Shaun was gently flipping the pages one by one, almost caressing the tome. "Should we leave you alone with the book Shaun? You need the artifact gloves? Protection is important."

Shaun ignores him but does pull out a pair of gloves from a box and turns to Heather who was watching everything with a bemused smile. "Do you know how old this book is?"

The teen blinks some of the sleep out of her eyes and leans forward and seriously looks at it. "Umm, now that you mention it, it looks like one of the founding books."

"Founding books?"

She reaches over and flips it closed and points at the spine, "See the leather here is newer and the stuff at the beginning is in modern English. My school had some extremely old books donated to it when it was founded. When the language changed over the years, instead of replacing the books they added more space and translated everything into the next language."

Heather doesn't stop there, she stands up and flips to a section about a tenth into the book, "See here... middle English... then old English.. the 'paper' is Vellum" she does air quotes to paper,"... and here Gaelic... Latin... Greek... I'm not sure about this language but that is definitely papyrus paper."

You could hear a pin drop.

"BREATH Shaun!" Bill barks, breaking the silence.

-------------------------------------

Heather had a nightmare the night before. She woke up from it only half remembering but couldn't get back to sleep. She's been exhausted all day and only half thinking.... she shouldn't have brought that book out..

But once she took it out she wasn't going to lie about it. It was one of those magical little things that was at Hogwarts that made going there special. Sometimes it was easy to forget how magical some every day things in the school was...

If they found out Hermoine was responsible for it going missing....

She silently sends out a little prayer that her friend evades or at least survives Madam Pince's wrath. But on the other hand the information could be invaluable to this world. From how the historian was acting it was something pretty important.

She couldn't help but be amused by him. It was a bit nostalgic seeing someone so enthused by something as simple as a book, though it was a founder's book. Even she felt some reverence for them.

"Shaun, you're not going to have enough time to work on that here." According to the historians face, Bill just killed Christmas.

"The book sounds interesting, Can I have a .." Desmond asks, his voice cutting off..

Everything slows, ripples..

The ripple hits something deep inside, WARNS her... Desmond's voice continues but it was under water. They were laughing, talking.. Like nothing was happening, like they didn't feel it. They didn't seem to notice. There was something in the air... Something deadly.. something..

WRONG..

Heather's heart freezes in her chest. She was on her feet, her heart restarts at the movement it felt like it took an eternity. Her mind was sluggish... not fast enough... no where near fast enough. Her heart gives a painful stumbling thump again, her blood was roaring in her ears now... it felt like ants were crawling across her skin... like they were biting her all over...

Left... right... not there... but something was WRONG... She had to find it... find it before it was... too late?

Abruptly someone grabs her wrist... she was facing them.. her wand was in her hand digging into the throat of the person grabbing her. When did she pull that out? Her movement was instant... instinctive.

A set of wide brown eyes with glowing mechanical golden lines in their depths, meets her own... they were shocked.. not the threat...

She recognized him... Desmond...

She pauses long enough to let her sluggish mind understand that... he's not 'the' threat.

She gently tugs her arm out of his glowing grasp, turning away, turning her wand away from him. She doesn't lower it.

The others were starring, eyes wide, they were looking at the little hovering red spark at the end of her wand.

Their shock wasn't important.... they weren't the threat....

She steps over her chair. It was flat on the ground. It fell when she stood... she didn't remember doing that...

Not important.

"Heather, what the Fuck!" Desmond's voice cuts into her running thoughts.

She doesn't look at him... she had to find the threat, "Something's here... something not right..." her voice sounded emotionless, not her own... the crawling ant feeling intensifies, and she KNEW, it actually wasn't her!!

She feels them move, they weren't the threat, "Rebecca?" Bill cuts in, his voice brisk but there was a small shaking quality to it, like he was... rattled?

Clacking of keys sound out behind her, "Everything looks alrig...no, wait.. the time stamp is wrong!!" her voice rises, "Someone looped the security feed!!"

"Desmond!!" Bill barks a hidden command in his voice.

The Assassin looks around down and towards the ground floors...his eyes were glowing... his previously injured arm had glowing lines. Something told her.. Desmond had some sort of ability, like he could sense through the walls and floor? "The elevator is disabled, they're in the stairwells coming up... they're wearing gas-masks, tactical gear..."

"Anywhere else?"

"On the roof!!" Desmond says, not even a second later. He wasn't looking through the skylight but towards the upper wall to the left. "They're going to try and come down through the skylight.!"

Heather's skin crawls even more as the lights go out.

Chapter Text

Glass fell like rain, the light from the laptops shined through the gas being released by the canisters that were thrown in the room. Desmond doesn't hesitate, his blades flashed through the dark, cutting throats and stabbing through gaps in the task force's armor.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of different fights flash through his mind as he senses where the weapons and limbs are of the men as quickly and efficiently counters them, dodges them.

The dark and smoke was suppose to help them and normally it would be a good tactical decision but he wasn't a normal target, he was at home in the shadows. The idiots should have left the lights on.

All to quickly the room grows silent. These guys weren't anywhere near as skilled as the ones that guarded Asbergo's Italy office.

"Everyone alright?" he took on the bulk of the fight and they didn't look like they were harmed but it didn't hurt to ask.

"We're fine." his dad voice comes from over by the door of the kitchen, there were two bodies sprawled over the tiles, rapidly cooling in pools of blood.

"We're fine also." Shawn says coming out from under the table with Rebecca.

Heather was still standing in the middle of the room. There were three men tied at her feet. The amount of rope around them was near comical. That.... was not normal.... where the hell did the rope come from? How did it get around them? How did she do it so quickly?

By the panicked looks on the faces of the tied up men, and rapid breathing, they were also very much still alive....

"76.4% probability of stable timeline." Heather says her voice metallic and echoing. According to his vision she was very much still human.... or whatever the hell she was...

In the dark he could see a line of gold light with his eagle vision. It was wrapped around Heather, it was in her, concentrated in her spine and head. Curious and alarmed he turns and follows the light with his eyes. It lead across the room to his dad's pocket... to a golden outline of a familiar sphere. It takes him only a moment to realize...

"Dad, the apple! It's controlling her!"

"Yes and no." a voice interrupts. There was a line of blood coming from Heather's nose and eyes, her voice sounded mechanical, wrong, "Time... short... find the... forbidden pieces... look Shay Cormac... speak again.." it was a male voice.

"Who are you?" he couldn't help but ask. This was NOT Heather and he had a heavy suspicion that it wasn't Juno either. She wouldn't give a shit if they lived.

Heather tilts her head, the golden light from the apple shining from her eyes, "The..Reader.."

The golden light wains and like a puppet with it's strings cut she falls to the ground. Shaun, who was nearby leaps forward, going to her side. His hand ghosts to her mouth and jugular, checking her eyes, "She's alive, definitely not awake though."

"Dad!" his father turns to him as he steps into the light coming from the computers. He lifts his hands and does a series of movements that existed in the brotherhood before even the first official sign languages.

(Take... important... I.. eliminate ... targets.)

Not only were some of the Templars still alive in the room, the ones that Heather tied up specifically, but he recognized the recording equipment on them. Body cams both front and back with audio, shortwave radios with ear pieces to hear orders.

Someone was watching.

His dad nods and tosses him the apple. "Do what needs to be done."

-----------------

He shouldn't have wasted his time. What was left of the task force quickly retreats. He watches with his vision as they load up in vans and speed away. They were probably retreating to a safe location to wait for backup. They definitely weren't taking them out with their half assed attempts especially when he has an apple. On the other hand whoever was calling the shots was smart enough to pull them back.

While he was downstairs he took the time to check over the van and a few other things.

"I got the emergency power back up, we can use the elevator." he says as soon as he comes back in the room. There was an updraft from the busted skylight, the lights from neighboring buildings shined in the night sky almost like stars.

His father looks up from the plastic tote he was loading on the service cart, "The Task force?"

"They pulled back." he notices that the bodies, both alive and dead, weren't in the room. Heather was still unconscious, someone laid her down on a table that was clear of the glass. He could just barely see her breathing. "I checked the van. No issues showed with eagle vision."

"They probably have a trap set somewhere." Shaun says coming back in the room. He had Heather's trunk with the book on top. "I can't fit the book inside." he looked a bit bewildered over that.

Bill takes the baggage from him, "Never mind that, we'll figure it out later." he turns back to him, "Scan the rooms Desmond, scan everything quickly. Pick up anything we need."

Desmond hurries through the rooms. There were things here and there like a loose cable he knew was to something Rebecca had but most of the glowing gold spots were fingerprints. After the first couple of sets he took a wash cloth and went through and got rid of them all. Considering their placement he was certain they were Heather's. It also made sense, she was the only one the Templars didn't have solid information on.

He returns to the reception hall with a small box of random items and quickly scans the room. He gives the room the same treatment as the rest of the rooms and wipes the fingerprints, even going so far as to wipe things in the fridge. At the last second he spots something on the ground... a conductor's baton?

It looked longer then a normal conductor's baton and it had a hand-carved handle but it was glowing a very important yellow with Eagle vision.

The red light earlier, the thing she subconsciously used as a weapon that she dug into his throat... this was it but... it wasn't what he thought it was... was it?...

They were on a schedule, if they were to get out of here before the Templars could counter they needed to move. They didn't have time for him to think about the 'wand' any further so he tucks it into the front pocket of his hoodie safely secured but out of the way. The whole process of clearing everything only took him a couple minutes, he turns to his dad. "That's everything, I'll grab Heather."

--------------------------------

They slow down the boat as they come along the starboard side of the Altaïr. His dad's evacuation plan was to meet up with the ship as soon as Heather cleared quarantine. They only had a couple more days but it was enough to risk leaving, not that they had a choice.

The Altaïr II was in the area in wait already, instead of the quick and efficient exit it was a panicked drive through the parts of the city that had it's camera network still down.

The only thing the Templars did was put up road spikes on a few of the roads. Luckily considering the time of night many of the sidewalks were relatively clear.

The easiest part was grabbing the boat Freighter had on standby.

A strong flood light washes over them. A silhouette of a man was standing beside it as he points it down on them. "Who goes there?... Bill! One moment." The man turns off the flood light and turns on a less bright one. "Whose all down there? Do you need help?"

There wasn't time to give the contact details about the situation. His father only sent them the coordinates and an order to meet up immediately.

"We have one prisoner, one who needs to be put in med-bay under surveillance, and everything needs to be stripped from the boat. Nothing can be left behind. We also need to be underway as soon as possible." His dad says to the unidentified man on deck.

The man lets out a sigh, "We'll just haul the whole thing up, we could use another spare." it was almost too small for all of them and the equipment. It shouldn't be as much of a problem as it would be if they grabbed one that had the extra room.

It takes a minute or two but a couple of the crew come down to strap the motorboat so it can be hoisted up. They wave them up the ladder out of their way. It was a pain in the ass carrying Heather and climbing at the same time but he manages it. His dad almost had a conniption when Shaun refused to leave the large book in the boat. As it was Shaun wrapped the damn thing in a tarp and then duct-taped the entire bundle to himself to keep it as dry as possible and to keep it with him.

"Bill, it's good to see you in one piece." Desmond has never seen the guy but he's heard his voice a few times. It was during conference calls with other assassin units.

The guy was average height and weight with a wire like beard. He could tell even in the dim light that the guy was tan. Like most assassin's his forearms (the only part of his body visible other then is face) were well defined. He wasn't wearing a hidden blade...

"Let's save the niceties until we're under way. My son and his cargo are in need of your doctor."

The man doesn't react to his dad's abruptness, a sure sign that he knew him well. He nods, "Chewy should be in med-bay, you know the way. I have to deal with this." he points at the motorboat being loaded on.

They make it to the med-bay. It wasn't as good as the CDC building but it was outfitted with quite a bit of equipment that he didn't expect.

The doctor was a rather short Asian woman with spiked hair. "I assume I have a patient?"

"Two actually but the girl is priority." His father says as Desmond lays Heather down on a hospital bed.

The unintroduced doctor pulls out a penlight and checks under Heather's eyelids. "What's happened to her?"

"POE took possession of her, perhaps even worked through her." Bill says.

The doctor nods, filing the information way, "What type of POE?" she asks absently checking her pulse.

"An Apple, but that's the least of the issues connected to her." Bill starts.

The woman gives him a look as she lowering the girl's arm, "You mean another problem other then her bleeding from her eyes, nose and ears?"

Bill had been keeping the details about Heather close to the vest, only telling the bare minimum to people about her. By his hesitation Desmond knew that the good doctor wasn't in his circle of trust but he was reluctantly sharing with her.

"... genetically she's not... human..."

Chapter Text

Being on the 'Altaïr II' felt like being at a party where you didn't know most of the people. All of them were friendly or indifferent but Desmond was a stranger to most of them so there was the feeling of encroaching on their territory.

None of them were hostile though, a couple of them even thanked him for activating the Eye... which was nice but it really felt a bit awkward accepting those thanks.

Honestly, what are you suppose to say when someone thanks you for saving the world? Has anyone ever been in that situation before?

His Dad was busy filling in the onboard assassins on the situation. Becs was going through equipment checks to see if we lost anything in the rush to leave (and writing a list for replacement parts to rebuild their main set up). Shaun was currently transferring sensitive information they gathered onto the onboard digital archive. The internet was NOT to be trusted so he had a serious backlog of information to upload.

They all acted at home here. Each one of them must have spent some length of time here.

Heather was still out and the doc (who everyone called Chewy) gave her a quick check over and was currently running tests.

"How is she?"

The doctor lets out a sigh, "Other then being unconscious and the burst blood vessels she seems fine. As a precaution I've given her a weak anti-epileptic medication."

"Do we need to bring her to a specialist?"

Chewy gives him an unimpressed look, "Because of how many assassin's have been injured by the Animus, I AM a specialist.... " which made sense and made him feel a bit stupid for not making the connection, "All we can do is some scans and wait for her to wake on her own. I'm already setting up the EEG equipment.."

He's heard of EEG equipment but he didn't know what it was and he must have had a concerned look on his face because the small Asian woman elaborates.

"It stands for electroencephalogram. I basically put this cap onto her scalp..." she holds up what looks like a swim cap with little wires and pads embedded in it."...and monitor brainwave patterns. It's standard medical equipment. It's used in hospitals and it's noninvasive, so it's not harmful." she adds the last bit to reassure him obviously realizing how similar that type of equipment was to Animus tech.

"Even though she's not human?"

She nods an affirmative, "She IS human in spite of what Bill says. She's in the same boat as you, she's just a different type of human. EEG equipment won't harm her. Anyways the medicine will keep her out for awhi..."

She's cut off by the overhead speaker, "Attention! This is your captain.... the storm system we were monitoring is quickly approaching. You know the drill people. Prepare for rough seas, stow your gear, strap down what you need to. Anyone have any questions or issues bring them to the bridge."

The announcement cuts off. Desmond was a bit surprised that didn't sound like Gavin Banks not unless he turned into a woman in the last hour. Wasn't he the captain?

"You might want to go up top and see where they stowed your gear. It's going to get bumpy around here real soon."

----------------------------

".. Are you bunking in your dad's Cabin or with Hastings? I have to warn you last person to bunk with Hastings complained about him having the light on all night. Apparently he took his work to bed."

Desmond snorts, "I'll take the one with Shaun, I'm used to it at this point." Bunking in the same cabin with his dad wouldn't be a good idea. Their relationship was better but arguments were inevitable between them. It was better not to be stuck in the same room as the man.

Rebecca already stowed away Heather's and her own gear. Like the hotel she was going to share a cabin with the teen. As for him he didn't have much in the way of personal items but he didn't want his handful of jeans and hoodies getting soaked because he didn't take his bag off the boat they arrived on.

The deck hand nods and points down the hall, "He claimed cabin five. Everything in it should still be strapped down since it was empty before you boarded."

The ship was filled with nice wood paneling, white painted linings and chrome and every spare space was filled with computer servers that was wired through the halls. The ones in this hall had clear air tight plastic paneling in front obviously to prevent water damage.

Down the hall and up some stairs a door opens and a tall man sticks his head through. "Oi, you're Desmond right?"

"Yeah?" the man had a distinctive Scottish accent,.

"Bill's calling a meeting for you and your team. It seems important." out of the blue Desmond is struck by something... there was something off about how the man moved.

He nods at the Scot, none of his instincts were screaming at him, whatever was off about his movements wasn't important, "I'll head up in a minute."

He heads down the row of cabins until he reaches number five. It was a small room with a bunk-bed built into the wall and a desk across the way. There was a closet and another door he knew led to a small bathroom.

Both bunks were occupied. The bottom bunk had Shaun's suitcase, hastily dumped onto the standard issued blue blankets but on the top bunk was Heather's ancient book.

It was still wrapped in a tarp and duct tape, the historian apparently used the bunk's straps to secure it.

Rolling his eyes Desmond frees the volume and puts it on Shaun's bunk but does take a moment to put up the little guardrails to keep it from falling out.

He heads out and is quickly redirected by another crew member to a conference room. It looked like any other conference room he's been in. Large table, chairs, big screen TV mounted on the wall with a computer desktop shown. Gavin Banks and his dad were in the room talking to an older man with a goatee, he was seated in front of a laptop that didn't have a power plug plugged in but he looked perfectly at home with it.... this wasn't his normal set up then. Someone vibbing that much with a computer would have had it plugged in to keep a charge. Desmond could also smell marijuana from all the way over at the doorway..

"Desmond, how's the girl?" Bill asks, his voice all business.

"The Doctor drugged her and she's setting up an EEG scanner to find out more but other then a few busted blood vessels she can't find anything wrong with her." he waves indicating the room, "What's this about?"

Banks decides to explain, "This is Emmett Leary, ex-Abstergo employee and one of our best hackers. Emmett here managed to dig up information from the Templar's side of the attack and he found the camera feed of your fight."

"Yeah, this is some interesting shit..." 'Emmett' states not even looking up from the screen. From the reflection of his eyes it looked like he was playing a video.

"Shouldn't we be preparing for the storm?" if the ship didn't survive it, didn't it make going over the information pointless? The information would be lost if the ship was lost.

A snort sounds out behind him, "There's been constant storms since the mass ejection. Just because the world was saved doesn't mean it was completely unaffected. If you paid attention to the news you'd know that." Shaun says coming into the room quickly followed by Rebecca.

"Susan, our co-captain, has been handling the storms. She knows where the storm is coming from and where it's going, We're going to avoid the worst of it. She has it down to a science at this point." Banks reassures him.

Bill grunts and waves the two in, "Come in, close the door." he turns to computer hacker and nods as they all find a seat.

"Alright, first off, the local chapter of the Templars were clued into your location from a tracking chip. Apparently, the CDC traitor joined the Templars a while ago and they didn't forget his leash." Emmett explains, "The Templars plan was to wait until your Quarantine was almost over. The idiot that leads the local chapter decided to jump the gun in order to win brownie points in the order. You guys were lucky, two more days and you would have had a small army there."

"Did you manage to send out word of the breach?" Shaun asks.

Bill looks at him a grim expression on his face, "Dr. Stoll didn't respond. All others who had contact with Richards manage to send a status update."

Desmond's stomach drops, the man was a decent human being doing what he could to keep everyone safe. He didn't deserve to be on the Templar's shit list. "Is there any way we can help him?"

His dad gives him a sympathetic look, "He has no value to them except his account of where we are and perhaps what he found out about the girl. Once they find that out, they won't leave him around."

Gavin Banks look at them grimly, "We have an algorithm scanning the Templar databases. If there's any news on the guy, I'll relay it. If you're lucky he was keeping an eye out and did a runner." he turns to Emmett, "Load up the video on the big screen."

The hacker nods and a moment later a window with a frozen video appears up on the large wall mounted TV. The man turns on the sound and then hits play.

The group of Templars positioning themselves on the roof, the Templar wearing the camera just turned it on. "Team 1 in position.." over the radio they hear a distant "... I'm ready to cut the power team 1, team 2 ETA 2 minutes stand by."

The video plays on, team 1 busts the skylight, zip-lines down into the dining hall, Desmond saw himself emerging from the smoke for a split second slitting throats and then merging back into the cover only to come out again across the room to stab someone through the eye.

He's never seen himself work as an assassin from a third person point of view... he felt kinda badass... it was like watching his ancestors work.

The man with the camera makes a move towards Heather. Her face was blank, unemotional, her eyes unfocused. She lifts her hand pointing and suddenly the man's vision is filled with ropes. The man curses under his breath and suddenly he's on the ground along side two others.

"I was wondering about that... how did she do it?" Rebecca asks, "Is there another angle?"

The other hacker pauses the video, "Fuck yeah there is, you got to see this shit." there was a grin on his face as he drags another window onto the screen... he forwards it to the point where the ropes appear and plays it from that point.

Heather from another angle... this time they could see the stick... and the ropes appearing out of thin air before more ropes goes towards the Templar with this other camera.

Emmett crops the image and magnifies her hand with the stick in it. "Magic wand anyone? If I didn't know any better I think I was high."

The room goes quiet looking at the image and the five second loop clip of the ropes appearing at the end of the 'wand'.

Shaun cuts in, "There's no way that's magic. It has to be something like a piece of Eden. Something scientific we just can't explain yet."

"But the telekinesis and her reattaching Richard's hand without a scratch.." Rebecca counters, "And the book.... she said the book came from her stuff but it can't fit into her trunk, you said it was impossible even without her clothes in it."

The man squeezes the bridge of his nose, "There's probably just some trick I'm missing to it. The two sizes are not that off."

Bill cuts in, a grim look on his face, "Magic or unknown science, the Templars know about her now. They'll be hunting her. Our first priority is to find her weapon and secure it. Most likely the Templars already have it." he turns and looks Desmond straight in the eye, "Traumatized teen or not, she has to be questioned, son. The Templars are out in force and we need to know what we're dealing with."

Desmond pauses in thought, should he tell them? "You don't have to look for it. I found it while doing the sweep." he pulls the carved stick out of his pocket. Seeing it in proper lighting for the first time he couldn't help but notice the color difference from the main part of the 'wand' to the handle.

His Dad opens his mouth no doubt issue some sort of order but he cuts him off before he can say it, "It's hers, I"m not giving it back to her but I'm not handing it over to your lab. I don't think we should be betraying her trust right when we're just starting to gain it. Especially when she hasn't done anything to warrant it."

Bill pauses, it looked like he was holding back quite a bit, he lets out a breath his face serious, "Fine, for now. I'll trust you to take point on this but we can't wait forever for answers son."

"So you two done? You want me to play the rest of this? I got to get back to work soon." Emmett cuts in.

"Play it." Bill orders his voice clipped.

They listen to the message the apple relays through Heather once again.

"Shay Cormac, I've heard the name before." Shaun cuts in, "He's probably in the Assassin/Templar biography database."

Emmett shakes his head, "He's in there but it's just basic information. Birth date, death date, place of birth. He's listed as a Templar, no other details."

Shaun nods, "I'll have to get researching then, see what I can dig up."

An image flashes through his mind. It was a young man about his age, dark hair in a pony tail, he was wearing a poet shirt or as a modern person would say a 'pirate shirt' covered in a clean cut suit with far too much embroidery to be from this century. He hears Haythem's voice in his head like an old memory, 'Shay Cormac, I hear you're the Templars' new don of Precursor Archaeology'.

"He's connected to Haytham in some way." he blurts before he can even think it over, the cold emotions of his ancestor twisting his stomach.

Rebecca gives him a concerned look, "How do you know that...?"

He grimaces and explains what he remembered and what his ancestor said.

"You could probably find out what this 'Reader' meant if you go through Haytham's life." Shaun points out thoughtfully, "We might even find some other pieces of Eden not connected to..."

"No." Bill cuts him off, his voice firm, "Unlike the situation with the grand temple we have other options. The risk vs. reward is too great. The more Desmond synchronizes with Haytham the more he becomes like him. It would end in two ways, failure or a Templar Grand master living rent free in the back of Desmond's head and with his skills that's the last damn thing we need."

"As much as I want to argue about it being my choice, I agree it's not going to work. I won't be able to synchronize with Haytham, he's too much of a cold bastard even if you ignore the fact he's a Templar."

Shaun gives them an annoyed look from across the table, "Of coarse the one time you two agree on something it's to tell me no."

"Before you run off to your computers, What do you want done with Richards? Chewy can dig out that tracking chip if you need him still" Banks asks ignoring Shaun.

Bill shakes his head, "The tracking chip is the last straw. Too many lives are at stake and he knows too much. Put him down and dump him over the side. Don't let him see it coming."