Chapter Text
Light pierced the unnatural darkness that had swallowed the sky. The aurora sent waves of strange colors washing across the expanse like ripples through water and if one were to look they may have even glimpsed, for a mere moment, the very wave of fire that had meant to consume the Earth. It crashed against the aurora and drowned out the greens and blues with fiery amber before it slowly began to fade away as the swath of fire passed over the globe. Despite the shield that rose to fight back against the flare the Earth was still bathed in a heat that kicked up awe-inspiring winds that threatened to topple the very trees around them. But William Miles refused to be cowed in the face of such obstacles when his son was still within the Grand Temple somewhere. Shaun and Rebecca were at his heels as they retraced their desperate flight through the surrounding woods. He could hear their labored footsteps behind him, crashing through the foliage where he breezed through it with the practiced ease of a Master Assassin. He may have taken a step back from active duty when the mantle of Mentor had been bestowed upon him but that did not mean he had allowed his skills to fall to disuse either.
Shaun let out a grunt as a branch, brushed aside by William, swung back to smack him across the chest as they ran but, thankfully, he did not break out into a scornful tantrum as he normally would. William was not all that surprised. As much as the man had bemoaned his son and his general disposition, he had grown fond of him over time. Desmond had a way with people that neither William nor Elain had managed to cultivate. As docile as Desmond had grown to become, something that William refused to admit was due to his handling of the boy as a child, he had a natural charisma that set others at ease and drew them to his side. Had. William bit the inside of his cheek, the taste of copper hot on his tongue, and pushed forward into the mouth of the cave that housed the entrance to the Isu temple. His boots slapped against the smooth stone, echoing through the cavernous space, and were soon accompanied by those of the two behind him.
They sped through the by-now familiar tunnels into the main atrium where they had originally set up their workstations. Shaun and Rebecca were smart enough to peel off and throw themselves into the work of breaking everything down that they had not already taken in their rush to vacate before Desmond used the eye. The Animus itself would take the two of them to move it and William doubted they would have the time to collect anything else. Abstergo would have little difficulty tracing the signal of the temple back to the location given the light show it had created. He was certain they were on their way even as he charged forward with all the speed he could muster. He knew, without a shred of doubt, that his son was dead. He had heard his distant cry of choked pain even as they threw themselves out of the cave to gain some sort of cover from a possible shockwave. But what he logically knew had no hold over the long-dormant instincts that had seized control the moment he had felt it was safe to move.
The eye itself was destroyed, shattered beyond recognition. There would be no second use out of it but William doubted it would be too much of a problem for them. Humanity had another 75,000 years to figure out a solution and he had complete faith they would succeed. It was why he approved of Desmond using The Eye at all considering the consequences. Juno herself was no doubt free and ready to wreak havoc upon the world. She may seek to reenslave humanity but they had fought back against the Isu and won once before. They could manage. Still, the smoking melted hunk of technology only held his attention for a mere fraction of a second before his eyes, reluctantly, dropped to the slumped figure sprawled across the floor beneath.
Desmond was still.
His white hoodie was scorched and dirtied but still bright enough to catch sight of in the darkness of the lifeless temple - all power sapped from it after its intended use. His arm was blackened and burned nearly to the bone. It was still smoking even as William dropped to his knees at his son’s side, hands raised, uncertain of how to proceed. He was gasping for breath, heart pounding painfully beneath his ribs. Yet Desmond’s heart was cold and still, never to beat again, an entire lifetime lost. It went against the nature of a thing, for a child to die before their parent, and William found himself struggling to comprehend on an emotional level - something he had not struggled with in decades.
His eyes were still open.
They stared sightlessly up into the caverns above. William reached over with shaking fingers to pull his lids down. He had done so for hundreds of people throughout the years, both killed by his hand and not, but nothing compared to sending his own son off. The son who had craved his father's love and attention so much as a child that the lack of it had forced him from their very home. He could still recall the day he had first held Desmond in his arms, before the understanding of what he represented had crept in - before fate and blood and lineage had clouded what little happiness he and Elain had managed to create. They had known when they married what their duty would entail but somewhere along the way, when Elain had questioned him about colors for the nursery walls and finally dared to inquire about names, he had managed to forget. He was reminded again when Desmond was three years old, small and cheerful, and his eyes had glowed golden in search of that damn pacifier that Elain was loath to throw away. Elain had stopped playing hide and seek with him in some attempt to stave off the inevitable and the house had grown quiet and tense for the next few years until William’s father pushed to begin Desmond's training.
The action of shutting Desmond’s eyes broke through the walls he had long since built up as if they were made of glass and, perhaps, they always had been. He lunged forward to pull Desmond into his arms, limp, and plaint as he was in that moment and buried his face into the crook of his shoulder. He smelt of sweat and ozone but beneath all of that, he still smelled like Desmond. Even in death he still managed to smell like a warm day in spring. He always had.
He should have never listened to his father. He should have never pushed Desmond away. This moment would have always hurt, regardless of whether the memories he shared with Desmond had been happy or not, but at least he would have known he had done the best he could for his son. Now, he did not even have that. All he had was years of anger and cold righteousness, disdain from his own wife and son, and several lifetimes of regret. Could have, should have, would have.
And a body cradled in his arms.
He had not even noticed when the tears spilled forth or when he started rocking but he was aware the moment Shaun shuffled up to them and froze. He was certain he made quite the sight but he could not bring himself to care at that moment. Caring about what others thought had been the very thing that pushed Desmond away the first time. And now he had left them for good. Oh god, he would have to tell Elain. It was going to break her, he already knew. She had never been the same after Desmond had left. She had retired from active duty and took up the role of a medic, offering aid to members of the Brotherhood wherever she traveled, no longer capable of causing harm to others. She had wanted to heal others while her own heart bled for all that it was worth. Desmond’s death would be the final blow to her and, no doubt, their marriage.
Desmond’s hoodie soaked up his tears as best it could but William knew they needed to move. He could not sit there curled around his son’s body for the rest of eternity while there were Templars bearing down on them. He pulled back to take in his son’s face, so very peaceful in death, and cupped a hand against his cheek with a trembling breath. He swiped his thumb across his cheekbone, wiping dirt and soot away. The scar that cut across his lips stood out starkly among the grime.
Shaun watched on as William Miles settled a kiss upon his son’s brow before he lifted him into his arms and stood. Desmond’s face nestled into the crook of William’s neck in return and one could imagine he was simply sleeping if it were not for the way his blackened arm swung loose, limp, to hang below. Rebecca stood several feet behind him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she had covered her mouth with a hand in an effort to muffle the sobs that threatened to overtake her as William passed. She wrapped an arm across her stomach at the same moment that Shaun gripped her shoulder in solidarity.
They were a pitiful procession: William Mile’s carrying the body of his son while the two people who had sat by his side as he had slowly gone insane brought up the rear, shuffling uncertainly back into the light of a new day. They were quiet, aside from the occasional sniffle, in shock at all that had transpired. Despite the obvious, it had still not sunken in that Desmond was dead. Even as the bleeding effect had threatened to rob him of his sanity Desmond had been such a steadying presence, unflappable really, that they still expected him to come to in his father’s arms with a wisecrack comment meant to set Shaun off and make Rebecca laugh. How sad it was that they were the only ones there for Desmond in the end. Did he have any close friends? He had never mentioned anyone in the months that they all had worked together. He had loved his ancestors, Shaun knew and had quickly grown to see them as a family but they didn’t know if Desmond had anyone in his life that they would need to inform of his passing. Not that they could do that any time soon, given the circumstances, but still.
Regardless, whatever musings their party had been lost in were quickly shattered by the sound of a helicopter. It was still a way out but getting closer.
“Shaun!” William barked and the historian didn’t need to be told twice. While Rebecca rushed to open the backdoors of the van allowing William into the back with Desmond, Shaun maneuvered around the other side of the vehicle to hop into the driver's seat. William had only just turned to eye the back of the van in search of the best place to set Desmond down, Rebecca had just dropped into the passenger seat when Shaun floored it and sent the vehicle careening forward with all the grace of a rampaging rhino.
“Shaun!” Rebecca cried out in what would have otherwise been a hilarious imitation of Bill had a squad of black military-grade vehicles not come screaming around a bend on the forested road ahead of them. Rebecca bit her tongue and reached up to grip the handle above her head with some urgency before she tossed her gaze back over her shoulder to check on William. He had simply chosen to drop down to the floor of the van, cradling Desmond against him, given he had not had time to secure the body or himself before Shaun had preemptively started the car chase. She couldn’t blame him really, she probably would have done the same.
“How in the bloody hell did they get here so quickly?” Shaun exclaimed even as he tugged at the wheel and sent the van skidding around the bend with a skill Rebecca found herself admiring.
“Like it’s hard?” she grouched with brows crashing together in consternation. “The signal that thing probably spat out could have been picked up by some kid's walkie-talkie in Australia!” She rested a foot against the dashboard in front of her as the final vehicle in the line spun about to engage them while the rest continued on. It seemed Abstergo was more interested in what had sent out such a strong wave of energy as opposed to the simple nondescript van fleeing the scene.
“Yes, well, I assumed they would have their hands full with their fancy satellite launch,” Shaun snipped in return.
“The satellite that was probably just fried,” Rebbeca muttered with some grim satisfaction. The thought sent her scrambling to pull her phone from her pocket while the forest parted before them and spat them out onto the highway. Shaun merged into the oncoming traffic with practiced ease even as the vehicles around them slammed on their horns. The Abstergo jeep had much less grace as it struggled in their wake but, at that point, Rebecca was paying it little mind. Shaun was still cursing and swerving but her own attention was dragged to her phone. Whatever cell service she had had was now obsolete and even as she switched her phone over to hotspot there was no connection. It wasn’t only Abstergo’s satellite that had been fried in the flare. It seemed the majority of services had gone down. If they could get to the nearest safehouse without a tail Rebecca was certain she could connect to a nearby cell tower. New York City was a five-hour drive away - plenty of time to lose the goons behind them.
“Make for the city safehouse,” Rebecca commanded while shoving her phone back into her pocket irritably, it was useless at the moment.
“Obviously,” Shaun replied scathingly. Any further comment was swallowed in favor of avoiding the Abstergo Jeep speeding past them on the left. It veered into them and sent the van skidding to the side while the rest of the traffic panicked around them. Shaun managed to regain control of the vehicle quickly enough but several pieces of equipment in the back were scattered across the floor. He could hear Bill grunt in pain but decided it was not a priority at the moment. Rebecca stared daggers into the side of his head as he worked to avoid an accident. “Stop it!”
Rebecca scoffed and spun about to check on Bill.
The Jeep pulled out in front of them and Shaun let out a curse before slamming on the breaks, or, he tried to. Something must have rolled forward in the chaos after being knocked to the floor because the pedal refused to move beneath his foot. Panicked, he swerved into oncoming traffic, hoping the driver of the jeep would value his life more than the chase, and was glad to see his efforts pay off a moment later. Horns blared as he pulled back into the left lane while reaching down to scrabble at the floor below. The dashboard was too tall to see over while he was bent down but Rebecca reached over to grip the wheel. With his heart in his throat, Shaun gripped the offending object and nearly let out a shout. He lurched back, the repressed shout working its way free of his throat as a strangled moan, and tossed The Apple of Eden over his shoulder.
“What the fuck, Shaun?” Rebecca shouted, eyes wide.
Any retaliation was cut off by the blinding light that exploded within the van. Rebecca slapped a hand over her eyes in a moment of quick thinking so she was the first to look into the back of the van and find the body of Desmond glowing within Bill’s arms. Their Mentor was shaking his head and blinking his streaming eyes furiously to clear his vision and so was unprepared when Desmond suddenly went taut in his hold and let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Christ!” William bit out and adjusted his hold on his son. He barely had time to register the fact that his deceased son was suddenly very much alive in his arms before he realized that he was in immense pain. Of course, his arm was burnt beyond repair and would most likely have to be amputated, to suddenly awaken to such a wound would have driven anyone mad with pain. But his eyes were still blurred from the light of the Apple so he could not see the glowing lines blossoming across Desmond’s skin even as he writhed in his arms. His feet kicked out against the floor while William curled around him, protecting his head in his thrashing, and attempted to mutter supportive words that were lost to even his own ears.
“What is happening?” Shaun exclaimed while squinting at the road ahead of them and gripping the steering wheel with all the strength he could muster. Luckily, Shaun was an excellent driver and had kept his eyes on the road so he was only struggling with the afterglow of the Apple's light show. He could only assume Bill's eyes had been fried out of his skull if the screaming was any indication. He had never exactly been close to the guy but if he had blinded him with a careless toss of an Apple then, he supposed, he might feel some slight guilt.
“Uh,” Rebecca looks ahead once more, shocked and confused, “Des' is alive now.”
Shaun shakes his head quickly, like a dog shaking off water, and his fingers lifted from the steering wheel to splay out in questioning. He may as well have been asking the heavens to deliver upon him an understanding of the situation currently playing out in the back of the van. Things were being knocked about in the scuffle and William let out a grunt of pain before Rebecca could not stand to watch any longer and pushed herself up from the seat to climb over the center console and into the back. Shaun squawked in protest but quickly turned his focus back onto the actual car chase taking place while the other two handled the resurrected Desmond.
“He needs to be sedated,” Bill grunted as Rebecca hurried to his side. Desmond had wrapped his other arm around Bill’s shoulder and his desperate grip was tight enough to bruise if the pained expression on Bill’s face was anything to go by.
“Right,” Rebecca shot back and turned to dig through the medical kit Lucy had made sure was always stocked. She had been cautious of the effects the Animus had on people. They had all been regaled with the horror stories of Subject 16 and his predecessors with a grim command that brooked no argument. The equipment to stabilize Desmond was always on hand should he have suffered cardiac arrest, seizures, and even mental breakdowns. Templar plant she may have been, Rebecca knew that Lucy had cared for Desmond, and she quietly thanked her now for her forethought. With shaking hands, she pulled a prefilled syringe from a plastic bag and ripped the cap off. “Hold on, Desmond,” she murmured gently and turned around to use an alcohol wipe on the arm currently wrapped around Bill’s shoulder. She wasted no time, injecting the sedative quickly, and tossed the syringe away before reaching up to card her fingers through Desmond’s hair. He was sweat soaked and pale. She had never seen him in so much pain - not even when he had suffered over Lucy's murder. There was just something so horribly offputting about watching his feet scrabble against the floor of the van, attempting to gain purchase, trying to physically push himself away from the pain. It broke her heart.
It took several minutes for the sedative to work through his system but they knew immediately that it had when he fell still in his father’s arms. Rebecca did not miss the motion of Bill checking the pulse at Demond’s throat with a shaking hand, as if reassuring himself he had not died for a second time, but she bit her tongue.
“I’ve got you,” Bill murmured quietly into Desmond’s shoulder while rocking him gently.
Desmond did not respond, too far gone under the influence of the sedative, but he relaxed further into his father's hold. As strained as their relationship had been there was still a part of Desmond that recognized Bill as safe. Despite the excruciating pain and uncertainty he had woken to the sound of his father's voice was enough to ease his panic.
“Where’d the Apple go?” Bill asked some time later. Desmond had not stirred since he had settled down into a more comfortable position on the floor, knocked unconscious by the pain and medication, but William had no way to know how long the peace would last. His eyes had begun to clear and he was able to make out the faint glowing lines across Desmond’s arm. If he wasn’t mistaken, the arm itself was beginning to regain some of its mass and coloring as well. The glowing circuitry pulsed along with Desmond's own heart rate.
“Um,” Rebecca floundered verbally before she pulled the beanie from her head and ran a hand through her head. “I have a theory but I doubt anyone’s gonna like it,” she admitted from where she sat on a bench in the back. She had her laptop open and was working to transfer data from the Animus hard drive onto her computer for review. A busy task, not urgent at the time, but busy work to steady her nerves.
William sighed with a shake of his head. There was no need for her to continue. It was obvious what had happened even if he didn’t quite understand it. Shaun tosses the Apple, it hits Desmond’s body square in the chest with a flash of light and suddenly Desmond is alive and glowing. It was pretty clear that the Apple was absorbed by Desmond somehow and now he was using it to heal himself. Logically, it didn’t make sense. The Apple was not capable of resurrection. It was a device made to entice and enslave not enact medical miracles. But what the hell did he know?
They would not be able to contact any other members of the Brotherhood until they had reached the safe house. Cell service was still down and Rebecca was unable to connect to the internet no matter how close they were to NYC. The safe house, a large warehouse apartment purchased by the Brotherhood entire decades ago, sported a landline that would allow William to make a call to Elain in her current location at the least. Knowing her, she had already touched down in New York days prior in the hopes of seeing Desmond. If she wasn’t at the safe house already. For a moment he allowed himself to revel in the relief that he would not have to tell her of Desmond’s death. His arms and legs felt weak. He considered not even mentioning the fact that he had been dead for an hour if only to spare her the stress.
He stared down at Desmond’s face, pinched in pain despite the sleep, and breathed out a trembling sigh. His son was a martyr. Somehow, in all of his childhood, William had missed that. He had thought Desmond lazy, spoiled even, and when he had run away when he was 16, he saw him as selfish. Now William was beginning to suspect how incredibly wrong he had been. Desmond had allowed himself to be put into the Animus at the risk of his sanity even before he knew the fate of the world depended on it. He was willing to do anything to help when he realized the gravity of the situation. And he had willingly sacrificed his life, even when he had offered him an out.
The Abstergo Jeep was eventually lost to traffic. Though it was no doubt kitted out with weapons the Abstergo decal on the side of the vehicle prevented them from resorting to all-out violence lest they draw attention and cause a scene. The perks of the modern day, Shaun assumed. Everyone cares about their image in a world connected via the internet. There was only so much that could be covered up by Abstergo money and a brawl across the interstate was not one of them.
Shaun’s hands had gone numb on the steering wheel and he had attempted to loosen his grip, and relax even, but then his hands had started to shake. He usually wasn’t so involved with the Brotherhood action but he supposed he would have to grow accustomed if they were to continue. He doubted they were anywhere near done. Still, he was thankful when he was able to pull the van into the familiar ally of their NYC safe house and shut the engine off. It was well into the night and the street lights were the only illumination offered to him as he stepped out of the van and shut the door behind him. The light by the rusted green safehouse door had gone out, and left purposefully, to allow them some darkness. Working from the shadows and all that.
He swung around to the back of the van and pulled the doors open. Bill was moving to heft Desmond in his arms while Rebecca was stuffing her bag with her laptop and various tech to minimize trips between the van and the safe house when they undoubtedly set up the Animus again. Well, Shaun corrected himself as Bill carefully stepped down onto the trash-covered ground with his limp son in his arms, perhaps there was some doubt. They had no idea how long Desmond would be out and, honestly, Shaun did not quite know what they would need of him next. They could always look to hunt out more POEs but given the hit the entire world had just taken, he doubted Abstergo would be making a move so quickly. They may have gotten their hands on the Grand Temple but he wished them luck in getting anything out of it. The Eye was destroyed, the Apple absorbed by Desmond, the key all but eaten by the temple . . . There was nothing there for them to find. It would still give them something to chew on for a while though, hopefully. A little distraction to buy them some breathing room while they pieced Desmond back together. Regardless of whether or not they would need him back in the Animus, Desmond was now one of the best assassins they had. He hoped Bill was able to pull his head out of his ass long enough to see it. Having lived through the lives of three of the most renowned assassins in history, as well as a Templar Grand Master, he had far more experience than even their unflappable Mentor. He hoped that smarted as much as he thought it did.
Shaun pulled himself from his musings in order to open the safe house door before Bill could shoot him another one of his pattened icy glares. The door groaned alarmingly in the night but they all shuffled into the building quickly before pulling it shut with a resounding thud. The lights of the place lit up automatically, set up with motion detection via the updated security system, and threw warm light across the ample space almost cheerily. Shaun had preferred their Italian safe house but New York was a second favorite in his preferred lineup. It had once been a factory, later a printing press, and in recent times: a large apartment that, had it been listed for rent that day, would drain the American Brotherhood funds in a matter of months. Seriously, he doubted the rent would be below five digits. But, the property had been purchased long ago and now they only had annual taxes to contend with.
Whichever team of assassins had used it last, however, had left it a mess.
“Really now,” Shaun scoffed as he stepped up to a line of tables stacked with computers and various tech. It was also decorated with a swath of soda and beer cans, old bloody cloths, and a single knife. He knocked a row of trash from the table and dropped his bag onto it before moving to help Bill settle Desmond onto a brown cracked leather couch. Several feet above the couch was a line of windows that might have once looked out over the cityscape but had since been blocked by the rising buildings around it. Now the windows only let in the artificial light of the late hours and whatever sunlight could reach them during the day.
Desmond let out a little gasp of pain as he was settled and Bill bit back a curse while carefully extracting his arms out from under him. They would have to sedate him again before they could get him any level of real medical attention. He couldn’t handle any more of his son’s pained screams. What he had heard would already haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Beccs, we’re going to need another dose over here,” Shaun called back to the woman who had, by that point, found her way up to one of the lofts to clear off an actual bed for Desmond. Shaun could just see the top of her head from over a half wall above while she scampered about to throw clean sheets and bedding over the mattress.
“You got it,” Rebecca called back with a grunt.
It took them several hours to move and set up all of their equipment from the van into the safe house. They were well aware of the fact that an hour of it was wasted on clearing away trash and sanitizing the area after the previous tenants and Shaun was well on the way to mentally composing a scathing email as soon as he learned who it was but he refrained from complaining about it given the mood that hung over their little ragtag group. Bill was far too worried about the fate of the world and Desmond while Rebecca was getting anxious without connection. She had even gone so far as to pull out the necessary equipment to set up a dial-up connection, of all things. Shaun never expected to hear the familiar droning screech of the internet when he picked up the landline phone hanging from a wall in the kitchen. He supposed ordering food would have to wait until later. He didn’t dare ask Rebecca to interrupt her connection when she had just gotten it back and was frantically scanning the internet for information on the state of the world at that moment. He should have ordered after Bill had gotten off the phone with his wife but the tense call filled with veiled arguments sort of killed the mood and his appetite. No one wanted to follow up on that phone call with an awkward food order.
Desmond had been moved upstairs into one of the loft bedrooms. William had carefully cut him out of the burnt hoodie and tossed it onto the floor before he moved to pull his sneakers off and discard them in the same manner. Without the slowly healing arm that glowed with the ominous circuitry of the Isu, Desmond looked as if he had just come home and passed out after a night out on the town. It was comforting in a way but they did not yet know what the future would hold. Would Desmond fully recover or would he suffer some horrendous side effects due to The Eye or the Apple itself? William had made the decision to keep Desmond sedated until the medic arrived to look him over. Rebecca had taken a few moments to clean his face and arms as best she could with a warm wet rag and alcohol wipes. He had hardly roused throughout the process but nestled further into the pillow beneath his head.
Now William stood in the loft on his own, arms crossed while he gazed out the window vacantly, lost in his own convoluted thoughts. He had been able to speak with Elain on the phone and inform her of the situation and, sure enough, she was in New York as he had expected. She had landed at the airport mere moments before the solar flare had hit. Which was a stroke of luck that William would eternally be grateful for because all airports around the world had essentially been put on lockdown. While the planes themselves were still capable of flight the airports themselves lost access to the majority of their systems. It would take months for the travel industry to recover fully. Stocks would rise and fall, no doubt, something that would make the Templars sweat as William knew for a fact they had fingers in several pies. He took some bitter satisfaction in that. Still, Elain would arrive at the safehouse within the hour. William hadn’t seen her in person in over a year and he could count on one hand the number of times they had spoken. He was no fool. He knew Desmond’s return would not fix the travesty that was their family but he did hope it would put some strength back into Elain’s heart.
In the rush to leave the temple, he had not even begun to process Desmond's death. Some tears had fallen and then they had been forced to move on. The whiplash of Desmond's return to the land of the living was almost welcome. In a way, he could pretend Desmond had never died to begin with. He needed to compartmentalize the emotions simmering just beneath the surface so he could push forward with a clear head.
The sky that he could glimpse from the window was slowly lightening into the grey of early morning while the sound of Rebecca typing away at her computer below provided a steady white noise that threatened to lull William into a daze. It seemed Shaun had already fallen prey to it given he had not heard the man complain in at least an hour. He would not begrudge them what rest they could muster after the past week they had all pushed through.
“Dad?”
William felt his heart stutter for just a moment before he turned to take in the figure of Desmond on the bed. His face was turned towards him, eyes cracked open, bleary and unfocused. A sheen of sweat on his brow caught the light of the overhead cans running across the warehouse on tracks. Given the fact that it was winter in NYC and Desmond had already kicked the comforter off the bed it was beyond worrisome though not unexpected. William moved to sit down on the edge of the bed and reached up to set the back of his hand against his forehead with a sigh. He was sweltering and his eyes fluttered under the gentle touch.
“Did it work?” Desmond murmured weakly. He attempted to focus his gaze on his father’s face but it was a fight he didn’t have the strength for. His gaze remained unfocused, slipping away from his father's face periodically.
“It did,” William assured him, running a hand through Desmond’s short curls. It had been nearly two decades since he had last allowed himself the opportunity to care for a sick son but he found the memories somewhere in the back of his mind and allowed them to resurface then. “You did well, Desmond,” he added quietly. He ignored the way his throat tightened around the words and his eyes burned. His son had done something that William doubted he himself would have had the strength to do - and with far more composure than he could have mustered.
Desmond’s eyes fell shut but the pinch between his brows smoothed with the knowledge of a job well done and an Earth saved. William felt the corners of his mouth pull into the slightest of smiles at the same moment the door to the safehouse creaked open and the sound of voices and movement blossomed in the air and reached his ears. It sounded as if Elain had brought someone along for the ride, most likely her apprentice, and her entire office of medical equipment. Shaun snorted awake from where he had fallen asleep on the couch and jumped to help the medics.
“This will be good,” William muttered wryly under his breath before pushing himself to his feet, finally pulling himself from Desmond’s side. He straightened his suit jacket despite its rips and stains and then thought better of it, pausing for just a moment to toss it over the banister of the loft before descending the stairs to meet the recent arrivals.
“It’s good to see you, Shaun,” Elain greeted quietly in the early morning hours. Her dark curls were pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head and her warm gaze was obstructed by the yellow lenses of the blue light glasses. They made her brown eyes appear black in the low light but did little to hide the bags under her eyes. Despite the obvious signs of age that dared to pull at her face she still looked just as dangerous and beautiful as ever, not even days of exhausted travel could rob her of that.
“You as well, Elain,” Shaun replied in kind. He moved to take her suitcase from her while her apprentice, a young woman closer to Desmond in age, hauled several bags worth of equipment in through the door. They were all on wheels so she was working to simply push them along and out of the way. It was a well-practiced routine if Elain’s actions, casually reaching out to guide the bags along while she spoke to Shaun, was anything to go by.
“Hey, Suzie!” Rebecca called from across the room absently. The apprentice straightened after having shut the door and tossed a lazy wave in Rebecca’s direction. They had both been recruited at the same time and trained in their respective fields in the same compound located on the west coast several years back and had kept in touch since. Suzie was a woman of some height and, like those who come from long lines of Assassins, mixed heritage as well. Elain had personally gone out in search of her when they had discovered the lost line in their records and Suzie had been all too happy to devote her life to something besides a mediocre monotonous career. The fact that she had dropped out of medical school halfway through the necessary credits was only a bonus in Elain’s eyes. Perfect for molding her apprentice as a Brotherhood medic.
“Now, where is my son?” Elain demanded lightly, belying the lines of anxiety pulling at her brows, much as they did at Desmond’s. There was a weight behind her words that spoke of years of strife that she sought to hide behind a facade of composure - even if she was failing. Those within the warehouse respected her far too much to comment on it or to think less of her for it.
Her gaze slid to Bill, still standing on the last step, and took on an imperious quality that managed to make even his cold heart flutter. Her chin lifted into the air before she pulled her gloves from her hands and set them on a table nearby. Suzie took her coat a moment later and soon Elain was brushing past him on the stairs and climbing to the loft without another word. Her apprentice trailed behind her like a shadow, bag of medical supplies in hand.
Elain paused at the landing and stared for several moments, a hesitant Suzie stepping up behind her, before shooting Bill a look of despair. It shattered the fragile image she was hoping to keep up and sent him climbing back up without a second thought. She moved over to the bed with a little less composer and dropped down onto the mattress beside Desmond with a whimper. Her lips trembled, valiantly fighting to restrain her emotions as Bill came to stand next to her and gripped her shoulder in an attempt to offer support. She reached up in return and settled her hand atop his for just a moment.
Bill felt his heart clench in his chest.
“What do you know so far?” Elain mumbled hopelessly, trying to regain her footing even as she ran a hand through Desmond’s hair, down the side of his face, before she moved on to check his pulse at his neck. He was hot to the touch but so very alive and in front of her that her heart swelled while it was threatening to break.
“He used the Isu technology to save the Earth, but it had a severe reaction,” Bill explained quietly, “When I reached him his arm was nearly gone, burned to the bone, but in our escape, he came in contact with the Apple in our possession and . . .”
Elain reached down for his arm, still badly burned but on the mend, lifting it in her hands gently and ran a finger over one of the lines of circuitry with a curious gaze. Her mouth pinched in worry but she refrained from interrupting Bill as he spoke.
“He seemed to absorb the Apple,” he finished flatly and stepped back with a sigh.
Suzie had moved to the other side of the bed and had taken a blood sample from Desmond’s other arm while his parents spoke. While the handheld scanner analyzed his blood she pulled on a traditional stethoscope to check his heart and lungs. Elain sent her a thankful look, more than a little distracted at the moment, before turning her gaze back to the burned arm. There was little in the way of blood or other fluids to deal with but it did appear as if his flesh was knitting itself back together even as they watched. His skin was warm to the touch, burning up, but it was no surprise. While they had no experience with an Apple healing an individual, they did have records of similar occurrences with the Shroud of Eden. The more severe an injury the more adverse a reaction a person could have during the healing process. The Apple kicked his body into overdrive and was working to rebuild what had been lost. In essence, he may as well have been a computer overheating.
“We need to keep him cool,” Elain muttered grimly, “Get me lots of ice, Bill.”
Bill pursed his lips before he squeezed her shoulder and stepped away to do as instructed. Shaun was quick to assist in the collection of ice.
“His blood oxygen is way too low,” Suzie muttered as they returned upstairs with bags dripping with condensation.
They had collected the ice from the freezer in the kitchen, shoveling it into bags together, and Shaun was forced to fight back the awkward tension. He could not recall ever having done something so mundane with the Mentor before. Even when they had been contained within the temple together, sleeping on the cave floor, cooking over a camping stove, Bill had always removed himself from them. It was as if the man was purposefully distancing himself from the peons, trying to uphold some godly standard of old. Or he was a robot.
“Well,” Shaun began haltingly, “He was dead for an hour.”
“Shaun,” Bill snapped with a sigh, dropping bags of ice onto the bed in the process. Elain took on an alarmed look as he gripped the bridge of his nose. Shaun set his own bags down looking rather shamefaced.
“Makes sense,” Suzie cut through the tension casually, unsurprised by the turn of events. She had grown accustomed to the impossible long ago, especially when Isu technology was involved. “Hopefully the Apple can assist with possible brain damage,” she continued thoughtfully, “Has he been conscious at all?”
“Yes,” Bill assured her gruffly. “He called for me, and asked if we had succeeded.”
“That’s a relief,” Shaun offered hopefully with a grimace.
“Alright,” Elain began bruskly, “You two, out. I’m going to see to my son and make sure you idiots don’t lead him to an early grave. Again.”
“Oof,” Shaun mumbled quietly but obediently removed himself from the situation with all the grace he could muster. Bill marched down the stairs behind him like an automaton. Rebecca sent him a wide-eyed look that had just a hint of mirth dancing about it as he joined her at her desk but did not offer any comment. Odds were the wife of their Mentor would be able to hear.