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William Miles was trained in many things: stealth, combat, strategy, guns. He’s even been trained to endure torture. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for this.Three assassins, each from a different time, a different world, sitting across from him and his team. The tension in the room is thick enough to bite through, and he wishes he could be anywhere else in the hospital, but he needs to supervise their surprise visitors.He was aware that precursor technology could be unpredictable, bordering on miraculous at times, but bringing back people from the past? He shifts in his chair. His head hurts.Shaun and Rebecca aren’t looking much better, constantly sharing wary glances between each other and the assassins. Bill can’t blame them, not with the way the three are staring at them like targets. He wonders what color he is in their second sight. He swallows the lump in his throat.“So,” Ezio starts, leaning back casually, “You are the head of the modern assassins?”, he asks, venom dripping from each word. Bill nods mutely. He catches the slight twitch of Ezio’s eye.The silence draws out for too long, and he realizes that this is a game. It’s clear in the way Altair sits staring at him, unmoving, barely blinking. They want him to break under the pressure. He straightens his back unconsciously; it will take more than death glares to get to him. He can’t say as much for his other two coworkers, who are sweating under the murderous glares.Connor seems to be the only one who’s uncomfortable with their situation, his hands toying with the sash tied to his waist. He’s staring too, of course, but his eyes are softer, more intrigued than intimidating. This doesn’t sooth Bill though. He knows these three men don’t respect him as an authority figure.“Um, for mister Miles?”, a soft voice beckons from the room Desmond is being kept in. All six assassins turn, and the nurse almost shies away. “He’s stable, but he’s been given a lot of pain medication, so he isn’t very responsive at the moment.”Altair stands and walks towards her, clearly intent on seeing Desmond, and the nurse quickly steps out of his way. William curses under his breath and follows, not trusting this strange man alone with his son, master assassin or not.His heart drops at the sight that greets him.Desmond, with his entire upper body covered in bandages up to his neck and even on his face. They continue beneath the blanket, and he dreads to think how much pain his son must have been in. There’s red painted across the white, little splashes like a watercolor painting. He’s hooked up to a few different monitors, the steady beep of his heartbeat a welcome sound, if a little irritating.William is frozen at the door, unable to get his limbs to function until he’s gently pushed aside by a large figure. Connor and Ezio make their way to Desmond’s side, opposite Altair, who has a hand over his son’s chest. The sight makes his blood boil.“Maybe you should wait outside,” he says before thinking. Three pairs of eyes turn to him. He steels himself, wondering when Shaun and Rebecca would get the courage to join him. “He clearly still needs rest and most likely doesn’t want three strangers hovering over him while he sleeps.”Ezio scoffs, baring his teeth in a smile. “Strangers, messer? We are no strangers to Desmond,” he says, turning his attention back to the injured boy. Connor gingerly settles on the side of the bed, brushing his knuckles against Desmond’s cheek delicately. He twitches slightly at the contact.“Perhaps it is you who should wait,” Ezio continues, placing himself between Desmond and his father, “You’ve clearly done a poor job of protecting him, father that you are.” William bristles.“I will not be lectured about parenting by you,” he grits out, clenching his fists. He takes a step forward, but is slammed back against the wall, the cold edge of a blade tickling his neck as bright, golden eyes bore into his soul. He swallows shakily as he stares back at Altair.“Leave us,” he growls before releasing William and sheathing his hidden blade. He returns to his spot by his descendant’s side without sparing a second glance at the man he’d just threatened. William scoffs, turns around and leaves. He ignores Shaun and Rebecca as they ask him what happened. He needs some fresh air.~~~~~~It’s dark. He can’t remember what happened. All he knows is that it hurt, whatever it was. His whole body aches, deep in his muscles, his bones, nerves misfiring, sending molten hot pain through is system. I thought death was supposed to be painless, he thinks as he floats to the surface of the strange penumbra he finds himself trapped in. He can feel warmth, and when he looks up, there’s a faint light, like a star in a city skyline, muted by the surrounding lights. He’s so tired.He starts to sink again. He’s done fighting. He’s had to fight for everything his entire life. He just wants to rest, just for a moment…“Desmond?”His head starts to hurt. Why does that sound so familiar?“I think he’s waking up!”“Shh, not so loud.”Desmond… That’s his name, isn’t it? Yes, he’s Desmond.A soft touch against his cheek has him blinking awake blearily. Everything is blurred and he whimpers as his body gets another jolt of pain. There are hands on him, gentle, like the brush of a flower petal. It’s soothing.“Come back to us, Tesoro.”He takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out. The pain seems to be fading quickly and the world steadies around him. It’s still too bright but he can make out shapes now, faces leaning over him. They’re masked. No, they’re hooded. Another deep breath and he can focus on them more. They’re so familiar. They speak to each other some more, yet he doesn’t process any of it, trying to remember where he knows these people from. Family? Friends? Enemies?No, not enemies, they’re safe. How does he know that? He shuts his eyes again.“Hey, stay with us, Desmond,” a soft voice calls out. He takes a minute to think before snapping his eyes open with a gasp as his memories right themselves. These are his ancestors.Reflexively, he tries to sit up, immediately falling back with a cry as his body ignites with agony. There are things being said to him, rushed worried words, soft comforting voices, hands brushing the hair from his face. He takes a moment to steady his breathing, staring up at the three men he’s spent the past year with. He looks from one to the other, noting the freckles on Connor’s cheeks, the matching scars on Ezio’s and Altair’s lips, the missing finger on the hand pressed to his cheek.“I’m fucking dead, aren’t I,” he rasps, cringing at the sound of his voice. Ezio chuckles and pets his hair.“Not yet, cara mio.” Desmond looks between them again, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiles. It’s weak and crooked, but the relief it brings him is incredible. Ezio smiles back, as does Connor, and Altair simply nods. He tries to sit up again, slower this time, and the three assassins help him maybe a little more than needed, but he won’t complain. He enjoys the care.He can’t move much on his own, flexing his left hand slowly, noting that the right one barely even twitches. The hand he grabbed the apple with. He should be dead.“I should be dead, what…”“We won’t let that happen,” Altair says resolutely. “We’ll keep you safe.”“How are you guys here?”“You needed us,” Connor pipes up, “You might not have done so consciously, but you called for us.”Altair nods. “The apple delivered us here. We were almost too late.”Desmond shudders, shutting his eyes to stave off the tears pricking them. He almost died. He had wanted to die. He’d reached out without hesitation, accepted his fate without fighting, but they saved him. They’re here for him. They’ll keep him safe.He hiccups, bringing his working hand up to hide his face. Three pairs of strong arms wrap around him, and for the first time in his life, he feels completely and utterly safe. He sobs, leaning into his ancestors weakly, listening to their comforting words as they rock him slowly back and forth. The years of repressed emotion, of violent rage and sorrow and spite and despair, all the ugly feelings he’s kept bottled away for everyone else’s sake come crashing down on him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he can probably be heard from rooms away, but he doesn’t care. The tears spill until he has none left to spare, yet still he cries, and through it all, his ancestors stay, holding him, keeping him safe.“Rest now, Habibi,” Altair mumbles, lips pressed to his temple. “You’ve earned it.”“We’ll look over you, Tesoro. No one will ever hurt you again,” Ezio promises.“We love you, Desmond,” Connor whispers.He cries himself into exhaustion, but when he wakes up, he’s somehow still cuddled up to the three men in the too small hospital bed. He smiles as he closes his eyes again, intent on enjoying the moment for as long as possible. He’s safe.He’s safe now.He’s loved.
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“He does not want to see you.”“That’s ridiculous, I’m his father! You can’t keep him locked away from everyone else!”“He does not want to see any of you.”“Bullshit. I’ll believe it when I hear it from him.”“You won’t be hearing anything from him that isn’t through one of us.”Connor closes the door in his face. Bill is getting fed up with this childish behavior. Not only did he have to deal with the fallout of the temple, which was basically a beacon for Abstergo, now his idiot son is hiding away with the three master assassins that somehow came back to life and are acting as his personal body guards. It had taken months at the hospital before Desmond could get discharged, the damage the apple caused a long and difficult injury to heal. He needed physiotherapy for everything from writing to walking to simply bending his arm. His right arm was a lost cause, however. It would never regain proper function, but thankfully it hadn’t needed to be amputated.Desmond was discharged a week ago, able to walk on his own for small distances and no longer needing his burns monitored every hour, cleaned and bandaged every day. William was ready to take him home, but when he got to the hospital to pick him up, he was already gone. He knew it was the assassins. They’ve been trying to keep him away from his son since they got here.He managed to track their location, though they didn’t make it easy. Desmond must have taught them how to cover their tracks in the modern day. He bangs on the door of the secluded cabin they settled in, hearing the wood creak beneath his fist.“Desmond, I know you’re in there!”, he yells, banging at the door some more. “You can’t possibly think you can keep running away like this. It’s absurd and you know it!” The door swings open as he’s about to hit it again and he freezes, his son glaring at him. His eyes are golden, and the strange scars visible on his skin are glowing that same color.“What do you want, dad?”William is snapped out of his surprise and straightens himself out. “Good to see you too,” he comments bitterly, staring down at his son. “Desmond, enough with this madness. I’m taking you home, and they,” he says, pointing at the three men ready to pounce on him should he misstep, “Are coming too. We don’t know how they got here and whether the technology that brought them here is dangerous. You must understa-” The door slams shut in his face. He’s beyond angry at this point at the blatant disrespect from his own son.He kicks the door down with ease but doesn’t get any further as three blades are drawn in his direction. Desmond calls them off, and they withdraw reluctantly, stepping back but not straying far.“I’m done,” Desmond says.“What?”“I’m done. I’m done with this, this assassin and templar bullshit. I’m done with fighting, done with the animus, done with being treated like a tool, like a means to an end.” He takes a shaky breath, tugging at the sleeve of his right arm. “I did what you wanted.”William sighs. “Desmond, there’s still missing precursor technology to be found, and we can’t let the templars get their hands on any of it. You know this. You’ve had a few months to heal, and Rebecca has been working on the animus to make sure-” A quick punch to the face has him stumbling back from surprise. He curses, wiping the blood from his nose and dodging another punch aimed at him. Desmond’s eyes are glowing again, his teeth bared in an almost animalistic display.“Are you fucking insane?! After everything that happened, you want to put me back in there?!”, he screams, and he would have tried for another hit had Connor not been holding him back gently, arms on his shoulders a soothing, grounding pressure. He’s trembling, and he can feel a strange sort of static prickling his nerves, making him aware of every single movement around him.“I saved the world, dad! I busted my ass for the past year, going through ages of memories that weren’t mine, living three entire lives, waking up confused about my own fucking name! Haven’t I done enough?!” William is shocked into silence by this unusual outburst, watching his son panting from exhaustion already. “I almost died, dad. Did you even care? Do you even care about me?”, he asks, voice breaking at the end.“Son, I…” He reaches out, unsure why, but Desmond steps back. His face is blank, eyes hollow and unseeing.“Don’t look for us again, ‘cuz if you do,” he gestures to Altair, Ezio, and Connor, who are watching him closely, “I won’t be there to stop them from killing you.”A shiver runs down his spine at the thinly veiled threat. They tell him to leave. He does. He sighs and ignores the ache in his chest; he has work to do. The moment the door closes, he’s surrounded and smothered in affection, kisses and nuzzles and hugs and kind words, and he can’t help but smile at all the attention. He’s never been the center of attention in a positive way, and still finds it strange, but nice.“Desmond, amore mio, I need you to know how hot it was when you punched him,” Ezio purrs between placing kisses on his cheek.Desmond snorts. “Of course you’d find my violent outbursts hot,” he chuckles, gasping as teeth nip at his neck.“And he isn’t the only one, azizi,” Altair whispers against his neck, licking at the bitemark. It sends a shiver up his spine, and Desmond has to hold onto Connor for support. Connor, who’s been holding him close, kneading at his hips and thighs, smiles and hoists him up effortlessly. Desmond squeaks and giggles in surprise, wrapping his legs around the larger man to hold himself steady. He hears Ezio whine behind him and huffs, amused.“You should put me down before Ezio starts pouting,” he says, enjoying the offended gasp from said man. Connor gives him a sweet kiss before gently putting him down, and the other two waste no time in getting their hands back on him.They each take turns kissing him breathless as they lead him to the bedroom, clothes shedding along the way. He really is lucky to have such amazing lovers.