It's hard, waking up.

There's very little that Desmond likes about using the animus, but waking up after a long session is one of the worst parts. It always leads to headaches, and a weird kind of confusion between which parts of his brain are really his, and which belong to his ancestor. Unsurprisingly, waking up from the animus after weeks of being in a coma is absolutely terrible. He's still trying to mentally readjust to the twenty first century when the four of them- Desmond, Rebecca, Shaun, and Bill (not dad, he wasn't ready for that title, not now and maybe not ever)- gather inside the cave the apple has led them to.

"Something's been living in here," Rebecca says, and Desmond follows her gaze to a far corner of the cave, where a neat pile of old bones are the only remaining sign of some animal's meal.

"Well, it doesn't look like it's in here now," Bill says, barely glancing at the bone pile. "Don't worry about it. We have more important problems." But Rebecca doesn't look completely reassured, and Shaun's sudden upswing in sarcastic comments makes it obvious that he's still worrying, too. But neither of them say anything, and Desmond doesn't have the energy to argue the point himself.

They use the apple to open the back wall of the cave, and start dragging equipment down the steep incline to the main room of the temple. It's difficult work, and even in the chill of early fall, Desmond's sweating before they've finished their first trip. At least it distracts him from the lingering after effects of the animus for a while. The van's not even half unloaded, but Desmond's already uncomfortably warm. He stops in the mouth of the cave to pull off his hoodie before going back for more supplies.

That's when he hears it- a low growl, coming from the same corner where Rebecca had pointed out the animal bones earlier. For a second, Desmond hesitates, not sure what to do. Then he crosses the cave quickly, hidden blade drawn, ready to take care of the animal before it decides to attack anybody.

The growling intensifies as Desmond comes closer, until finally his flashlight shows him a wolf lying on the ground, glaring up at him through narrowed eyes. Desmond's never seen a wolf in person, only on TV or in movies, but this one doesn't look healthy. Its fur is matted and dull, and one of its back legs is twisted at an unnatural angle. The animal is obviously in a lot of pain, but when Desmond stops a few feet away, the wolf struggles to its feet and growls more loudly.

The wolf looks barely alive, and killing it would probably be doing it a favor. There's no reason not to put it out of its misery, but something makes Desmond pause anyway. Maybe it's the wolf's eyes, bright blue and strong, despite the obvious pain it's in, or maybe it's just the wolf's unbelievable stubbornness in trying to intimidate him, when its the one with the injured leg.

"It's alright," Desmond says. He makes sure to keep his voice calm and nonthreatening, and he pulls his blade back into its sheath. The click it makes is hardly audible, but it draws the wolf's attention anyway. It's eyes snap to the bracer on his wrist and it moves closer, carefully. Desmond lets it. He watches the wolf and the wolf watches him, and then finally the wolf reaches up so its nose is less than an inch from Desmond's hidden blade.

For a long second it sniffs at the bracer, and Desmond can almost swear that its eyes are fixed on the assassin logo there. Something about the blade apparently reassures the wolf, because it stops growling and lies down again, this time with its back pressed against Desmond's lower legs.

"Desmond! What are you doing?" Bill asks, and Desmond turns to see him standing in the mouth of the cave holding a box. It looks heavy, which at least explains the impatient note in his voice. Or maybe not- he almost always sounds like that.

"Nothing," Desmond says, and steps away from the wolf before his dad comes close enough to see it. He'd meant to kill it thirty seconds ago, but now he's not so sure. It would have felt wrong, now that the wolf has decided it likes him.

"Well then come help with the van," Bill snaps, and Desmond nods.

But when he comes back, carrying the animus with Shaun (it's too heavy and cumbersome for one person to manage), the wolf appears suddenly next to Desmond, limping along on its three good legs and ignoring Shaun's shout of surprise.

"Of course we'd have to pick a place infested with wolves," he complains. "Bloody animals."

"It's not infested," Desmond mutters. "There's just one."

The wolf follows them all the way down to the temple's main room, where it vanishes into some corner before Bill can make good on his threat to go after it with a knife. "It probably won't last the rest of the day anyway," he grunts, and goes back to setting up the equipment. "It looks half dead already."

He doesn't mentionthe wolf again, and neither do Shaun or Rebecca. Desmond doesn't either, but he thinks about him, even after Juno triggers the bleeding effect, and Desmond winds up back in the animus.

Maybe it's not surprising that his mind would be desperate for any kind of distraction. In less than one day, he goes from reliving Ezio's memories of Constantinople to a new ancestor- Haytham Kenway- in the American colonies. There's almost no time for Desmond in between, and when Bill finally lets him back out of the animus, Desmond makes as quiet an exit as he can. He goes looking for a place where he can just sit down and be himself for more than five minutes at a time. It also doesn't help that for whatever reason, the day's animus session had been absolutely brutal. Tearing himself out of his ancestor's mind isn't usually this painful, but today... today is bad.

He finds a corner out of sight of the others and practically collapses into it, curling up into himself and grabbing his knees, holding tight like he's afraid he'll fall apart and fly away if he lets go. It's hard to tell how long he spends with his arms wrapped around himself, staring at nothing, but after a while he hears something that sounds like a whine, and uncurls enough to see the wolf standing over him, their faces only inches apart. Desmond's breath catches in his throat, but the wolf doesn't make a move to attack him. If anything, it looks almost… concerned. If an animal can be concerned.

Which makes Desmond feel a little ridiculous, because if a sick, injured, wild animal is coming by to check on him, he must be in a really bad place. "I'm fine," he says, and the wolf considers this for a second before lying down next to him. For a second, Desmond's too surprised to move, but then he shrugs and accepts it. The wolf's body is a solid presence next to him, and more than anything right now, he needs solidity. His dad doesn't care if he's a gibbering mess on the floor, and Rebecca and Shauna are both too busy with their own work to notice that he's slowly losing pieces of himself. It's enough that someone cares. Anyone.

So if the only comfort he can get is from the wolf, he won't complain. "But you're not doing too well either, are you?" Desmond asks, and the wolf makes a noise that sounds a little like a whimper. "Hang on."

He's never had so much as a goldfish as a pet before, so he's not entirely sure what to do now. Still, there's plenty of medical supplies around (injuries are almost guaranteed in their line of work), and the wolf's leg isn't as bad as it looked at first glance. In less than an hour, the injury is cleaned and bandaged well enough to at least prevent infection.

He's just finished when Desmond hears his dad start calling for him. Apparently it's time for another session. "Duty calls," Desmond grumbles, and looks down at the wolf. "Try and keep out of sight, alright?" he says. "And stay off that leg."

The wolf makes an aggravated huffing noise, almost like it understands (and isn't happy about being told what to do), but it at least stays put. Desmond can feel its eyes on him until finally he turns a corner and passes out of sight.

-/-

Connor watches Desmond until he vanishes around a corner, leaving only his scent lingering in the air behind him. It smells foul- after centuries as a wolf, hiding on the fringes of human society, human scent has become something to be avoided, a threat and a danger. Not this time, though. Connor breathes Desmond's scent in, ignoring the traces of modern materials (it's unavoidable in this century- the smell of machines and synthetics are on everything), and the sweat and dirt that tell him Desmond hasn't washed in a while. He learns the scent, memorizes it, and files it away in his mind as pack.

He doesn't have much experience with pack, but it's something fundamentally tied into what it means to be wolf. Occasionally, when winters are hard or the press of humans proves to be too much, he's joined with feral packs to survive. It never lasts long. They're not solitary creatures by nature, and Connor is. Just another reason to dislike spending eternity as a wolf, Connor reflects bitterly. Then again, if he didn't want to be cursed for the rest of his (apparently endless) life, maybe he should have made some choices differently when he still had a chance-

He shakes his head and growls deep in his throat. He's not going to think about that day. It's in the past anyway. It doesn't matter anymore, and he's spent enough years and decades already regretting his mistake.

Ignoring Desmond's instruction to stay where he is, Connor hauls himself to his feet, being careful to keep as much weight as possible off the bandaged leg. He's had his share of injuries, many of them worse than this, so he's not worried. As much as he sometimes thinks death would be a blessing, more than two hundred years of experience has told him that's not going to happen anytime soon. Bullet wounds, extreme cold, drowning, illness- he's experienced them all, and nothing so far has been enough to kill him. Everything heal faster than they should, and nothing, it seems, will ever kill him. Even the ever present wear of time hasn't done its job.

It's been a long, mostly horrible, usually lonely life. He'd almost started to believe he's seen it all, but this is different. It's been centuries since Connor's had any news of the assassins, and seeing the familiar mark now brings back memories he hasn't had reason to visit in decades. They're not all good memories, but they're better than his life now. Those memories are enough to convince Connor that Desmond should be pack- protection, safety, family.

He walks on silent feet, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the main room. There, he settles in against the wall (he can already feel his leg starting to heal, but right now it's still killing him), and watches the scene unfolding in front of him.

Desmond is clearly the center of everyone's attention, lying on a chair that even by the standards of this century looks strange. The other three are gathered around him, monitoring computers and machines that Connor doesn't understand, but are clearly connected to Desmond somehow.

He settles into watch, and for a while, nothing interesting happens. There's nothing about anyone's attitude that tells Connor that this is at all out of the ordinary, so even though unnatural stillness of Desmond's body looks wrong, he tries not to worry. Nobody says much of anything. They all look exhausted, and the few times they do speak, their words are usually clipped and full of obscure terminology.

Suddenly the woman (the other two call her Rebecca) notices Connor and makes a startled noise. "The wolf's back," she announces, and the two men (Bill and Shaun) quickly turn to look at Connor as well. He fights down the instincts that tell him to make himself seem threatening, to try and scare them off. It wouldn't work anyway, and they'd probably just try to drive him away. That would be bad- Connor's not sure why yet, but there's something about Desmond that makes him unwilling to leave.

So instead of making himself look larger, Connor forces himself into a submissive posture, body low to the ground and tail tucked between his legs. It's not a pose that comes naturally to him, and it grates against his pride to hold it. At least the three humans seem to get the message.

"Shouldn't it be attacking, or something?" Shaun asks, and Rebecca gives him an annoyed look.

"He's injured, Shaun."

"So? Doesn't mean he won't chew our faces off while we're asleep," Shaun grumbles. But he doesn't actually do anything, and Connor can live with grumbling.

"Leave it alone," Bill tells them. "If it's not going to be a problem, let's not waste time worrying about it. We have bigger issues-"

That's when Desmond starts screaming.

Instantly, the other three forget about Connor, refocusing all of their attention on Desmond. "What's wrong with him?" Bill snaps.

"I told you when we put him back in," Rebecca says. "His last time in the animus helped rebuild his sense of self-"

"But that's good," Shaun says.

"It is good," Rebecca agrees. "It helps a little with the bleeding effect. But it also makes it more difficult for him to synch with his ancestors. Especially new ones- if this were Ezio or Altair, we wouldn't be having this problem, but…" She shrugs helplessly. "Unless we figure something out, every time he goes into the animus will be as bad for him as the first time."

They keep talking, but none of what they're doing makes any sense to Connor, so he focuses on Desmond instead. The man's scent is suddenly laced with fear and a strange kind of sickness, so strong that Connor's almost choking on it. He edges closer, studying Desmond cautiously.

His body is completely relaxed, at odds with his fear scent and his screams. One arm is resting on the edge on an armrest with a nasty looking needle shoved up it, but the other hangs limply off the chair, and Connor nudges it hesitantly.

The effect is instantaneous. Desmond stops screaming and his arm shoots out, grabbing hold of Connor's fur in a death grip. It hurts, but not much, and at least it's better than the screaming. Connor lets it happen, and after a few seconds, he feels Desmond's hand relax into a more comfortable position. His fingers are still tangled through Connor's fur, but the grip is less aggressive now.

"What just happened?" Rebecca asks. They're all looking at Desmond, and it's Shaun that notices Connor first.

"Hey!" he yells. "Get away from him, you mangy-"

This time, Connor doesn't fight his instincts. When Shaun comes close, too angry to remember caution, Connor growls at him and half raises his tail in warning. Shaun stops, and appeals to Bill. "We can't let it stay there," he says.

Bill glances between Connor and Desmond, and his eyes rest for a moment on Desmond's hand, still gripping Connor's fur like he's afraid of letting go. "I think we'd have to fight Desmond if we tried to take it away," he says. "It hasn't done anything yet, and Desmond's calmer." He snorts. "He's wanted a dog since he was three years old, anyway."

"It's a wolf," Shaun says flatly. "Not a dog."

"It's close enough," Shaun says. "And Desmond's sync rate just went up. The thing stays."

-/-

Desmond comes back to himself slowly, which is nice. He's spent the past few weeks (no, not weeks, just hours) reliving Haytham Kenway's memories. It hadn't been easy- in fact, Desmond hasn't had so much trouble in the animus since his first couple times in Altair's memories, months ago now. It's disorienting and difficult, just like the first time, and Desmond's grateful that no one's pushing him to get up too quickly. His head is pounding and he can't quite work up the energy to get off the animus, or even open his eyes. So he just lies there, waiting for his mind to sort out which memories are really his, and for his body to feel like his own again.

After a while, he realizes his arm is moving, in a steady, repetitive motion, over something soft and warm. As soon as he realizes this, he stops and opens his eyes. The wolf is only a foot or so away, bright blue eyes studying him intently. Dimly, he decides that this should be worrying. It's not.

Rebecca's closest, so she's the first to notice he's awake. "Hey," she says. "How was it?"

"Fine," Desmond lies. His voice sounds hoarse, and he frowns. Rebecca looks like she's going to press the issue, so he changes the subject. "Why's he here?"

"Wolfy?"

"You can't call it Wolfy," Shaun calls from his station, and the wolf makes a grumbling noise in apparent agreement.

"Fine," Rebecca says. "Come up with a better name, and I'll use it."

"Seriously, though." Desmond interrupts before they can really start bickering. "Why's he here?"

Rebecca and Shaun share a look that Desmond doesn't like, but it's Bill that answers. "You were screaming," he says, not even looking at him. "The wolf calmed you down, so we let it stay."

"I- what?" Desmond doesn't remember any of that, which scares him a little. He can describe in perfect detail everything he just went through in Haytham's life, but he'd been completely oblivious to what was going on in his own. That had never happened before the coma- no matter how well he synched with Altair or Ezio, he'd been at least vaguely aware of what happened around him.

His fingers tighten on the wolf's fur. "Sorry," he mutters. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Bill says. "We're getting the information we need."

His reassurance only makes Desmond more upset, though. Bill shouldn't be alright with him screaming while he's in the animus. Rebecca and Shaun aren't, he can tell, but the careful way they keep their eyes on their respective computers tells Desmond they're not going to argue it.

A little while after that, Desmond forces himself off the animus and makes himself scarce. Everyone else has a job to do, but now that he's done with the animus, Desmond feels totally useless. So he goes exploring.

The temple is large, more so than Desmond assumed when he first walked in, even if most of it is inaccessible at the moment. Most of it is crumbling to pieces, but that just gives Desmond more of a chance to practice his still developing free running skills.

The wolf follows him every step of the way, and paces nervously whenever Desmond goes somewhere it can't follow. That doesn't happen too often, though. The animal is unusually agile, and either very brave or very stupid. It follows him without hesitation whenever physically possible, no matter the obstacle. After a while, Desmond remembers the wolf's leg is still injured, and stops, settling down on the floor to stretch his aching muscles. The wolf sits next to him, licking the bandage on his injured leg.

"Don't do that," Desmond tells him. "You'll make it worse." The wolf considers him for a second, then goes right back to the bandage. "Hey-"

But then he stops, because the wolf has managed to unwind the bandage from its leg completely, and underneath is a perfectly normal, undamaged leg. Which is impossible, because just a few hours ago there had been a long, deep gash there. He looks up at Desmond, almost apologetically, and pushes the bandages toward him with his nose.

"You are the weirdest animal I've ever seen," Desmond says. Then he laughs, because he's talking to a wolf, a wild animal, like it knows what he's saying. Maybe he's the weird one.

That's about when the events of the day start to catch up with him. This is always the hardest part, a few hours after he's gotten out of the animus, when he's had time to burn through the anxious energy he's always left with after a session.

"It's the memories," he tells the wolf, because he needs someone to talk to, even if it is an animal. "They're not mine, but the animus makes them seem like they are. They're my ancestors' memories, but it's hard to tell…" he shakes his head, then continues. "I thought I was done. I finished Altair's memories. And Ezio's. But they found a new ancestor, because it never fucking ends."

For a second he's angry, but only for a second. There's no point. It won't change anything, and the anger drains away as quickly as it arrived. Desmond's left feeling drained and empty, alone with a wolf in an ancient temple the likes of which humans were never meant to see. It should seem strange, but he's too tired to appreciate the weirdness of it all.

Everything else in his life is messed up already, so Desmond shrugs and decides to let this happen.

Over the next few days, a sort of normalcy develops among the assassins, a routine that lends a little bit of structure to their days. Desmond's usually the first one awake, and while he makes coffee and pours cereal (the extent of his culinary skills), the wolf leaves the cave to do whatever he needs to do. Hunt for his own breakfast, maybe. When the others are awake and the wolf comes back, Desmond sighs and drags his feet and generally uses any excuse he can think of to stay out of the animus as long as he can.

Inevitably, though, Bill will snap at Desmond to stop screwing around, and the day's work will begin. They always wait for the wolf to come back, though. For whatever reason, after that first day Desmond can only stay calm in the animus while the wolf is nearby.

The animus sessions last all day, and when they finally finish, Desmond eats as quickly as he can and flees to the corner of the temple with the wolf. Usually they run together, until one of them tires, or Desmond decides he can't take any more of going over the same courses over and over again. After that, he just sits, the wolf at his side or pacing nearby.

When he finally goes back to the main room, no matter how long he spends on his own, the other three are still hard at work. Rebecca spends her nights going over footage from the animus and checking the machine for bugs and other problems. Shaun has mountains of historical data to sift through, and most of what he has is in books and papers, which means his work takes twice as long as if it had been digital. Bill has entire teams of assassins to run, and coordinating a worldwide network from a cave in New York isn't exactly easy.

But Desmond can't help at all, because the skills he's picked up from his ancestors are useless in a situation like this. By this point, he's usually mentally and physically exhausted from his day in the animus (they seem to last weeks or months in his mind), and it's all he can do to keep his eyes open. So he doesn't even try, he just curls up in his sleeping bag on the edge of the main room, the wolf still at his side, and falls asleep while the others keep working late into the night.

-/-

This is an idea that hasn't left me alone for like a month now and I decided to just go for it. Many apologies for the poor quality, but this is my finals week and everything's a little bit crazy right now.