Discovery Mode is just an enhanced bleeding effect for this fic and boy did I GO with it!

Rule of Thirds

To distract herself from the facts that Dee was dead and that rations were low, Layla researched.

She explored the city of Alexandria, all sensory details to her disposition. She explored the memories of Bayek tasting fresh bread from a baker, the water rinsing away blood from Bayek's blades and clothes. There came the otherworldly feeling of being inside pyramids in Giza. She swam in the grand lake of Faiyum, felt the sea and mushy wet sand between her toes on the beaches of Egypt.

All kinds of cats, from tiny kittens to fully-grown ones, followed her at her ankles like they used to follow Bayek all those centuries ago. She loved walking down the colorfulness of the market. She spoke more Egyptian aloud than she spoke English, to the point she became fluent. She learned Greek through Aya. She hunted the rogue hippopotamus that attacked civilians and let the innocuous ones that lazily swam in the river go on their merry way. When Layla bathed in the small pool of water, she could practically smell the sea breeze from the Green Sea. When she had her daily meal of half a meal bar and a third of her water bottle, she tasted fish freshly caught from the river instead.

Archery became almost instinctive through the bleeding effect, the physical act of picking up the bow and arrow feeling as natural like tying a shoelace.

Deep down, Layla knew that this was all a simulation, but it felt good to lose herself in it. To lose herself in the memory of another time. It was her version of history, her own world. Her own almost dreamlike world that she shared with the memories of her Bayek and her Aya inside her head.

She prefers that over the present.

Anything but pressing her radio and not hearing Dee's response.

Anything but waking up into the reality and recognizing that Dee was gone.

Her Aya and her Bayek showed her around the cities. Layla knew that the actual memory wasn't that, but shit, she'll take it.

When she was awake, Aya and Bayek were present, crystal clear as day as they were in the Animus. Some sensory hallucinations were so strong that she could feel them: like the embrace they gave her after her first meltdown. She knew it came from the combined memories from the both, comforting each other after long nights.

She jumped from the tallest viewpoint in Alexandria, the Pharos. The leap of faith was thrilling, as was the adrenaline rush that came from it.

It was her imagination. History was her playground, and with the stimulated sea breeze running through her loose hair as the bale of hay grew closer and closer, Layla relished in it.

Bayek helped her out of the haystack and smiled proudly, the way only a father would.

And for the first time since this whole mess started, Layla smiled back.

Out of the Animus was another case.

She wasn't sure how the English metaphor of silver lining worked. If it was even applicable to her case.

Because a lot of aspects of the unique situation she was in did not make much sense. There was some good in losing herself, but she knew, deep down, it wasn't healthy.

Escapism in small doses was good, like reading a book. But she already read every book she brought with her, cover to cover. She ran out of songs to listen to on her computer. She didn't have any Wi-Fi. The only content for reading material left was her making her own, by exploring Egypt through the animus and note-taking her experiences.

Every problem led to the solution, which, well, was also a problem. Escape through the Animus lead to more of the Bleeding Effect. It led to stronger skills, like being able to land a target with a bow and arrow. It also led to stronger hallucinations.

There was some good from the Bleeding Effect: it kept her safe. She knew which snakes that sometimes snuck into the cave were poisonous and which were not, thanks to Bayek and Aya's knowledge. She knew

From the one semester psychology course Layla took at the university, she learned that disassociation is a defense mechanism when your brain decides what you are going through is too overwhelming to handle.

Layla wasn't a psychologist, but she was pretty sure the Bleeding Effect made her disassociate a few times.

And okay, on that aspect, she was a little scared.

A little bit.

Losing touch with reality is terrifying on its own. But disconnecting from it altogether? Not ideal. Not okay.

She knew physically, Bayek and Aya didn't exist. That they were in another century, hell, even another common era altogether. That the only physical form in the present were both of their mummies in the cave she was in now.

She was no expert in self-diagnosing, but she knew she was hearing things. She knew she was seeing things. She knew they all came from the bleeding effect.

She didn't know if it would ever worsen.

Hunger pained her stomach as Layla took a small bite from the granola bar. There were only twelve bottles left for her to drink. If she could ration it out, it would be one bottle per week.

"Layla, you haven't eaten well," Bayek said. He sat on top of the Animus, a position that fit him too well. He wore his typical outfit, lacking any weapons save for the hidden blade on his arm.

"Those damned Abstergo bastards slashed my tire," Layla finished the sentence with a small swig from her water bottle, relishing in the limited taste of purified Dasani water. Her hands were so dry from the desert air flowing through the cave.

"Isn't there a spare tire?" Aya asked, sudden appearance at Layla's desk as she sharpened one of her swords. "I saw one."

You mean I saw one.

"There is. I know how to assassinate a target in more than six ways but I don't know how to change a tire," Layla sighed. "Go figure."

"You were never taught how to do that?" Bayek asked.

"Dad didn't think it was necessary for me to learn that. Said that we had roadside assistance for that. And I used the gasoline to-"

To burn the bodies.

It had been almost two weeks since that ordeal and Layla had spent one hot desert day burying the ashes in the ditch with the dead, burnt Abstergo agents.

"Layla," Bayek's voice was soft. "You did what you had to do."

"I know I did," Layla said. She glanced down at her hands, the same hands she killed with. The hidden blade, silent and deadly, was a metallic weight against her arm.

Then that was when she heard it.

Layla was sure she was seeing and hearing even more voices than the two residing inside her head.

But surely enough, she heard footsteps echo through the cave and voices talking in English. Calling out her name.

"Layla! Are you here?" a man's voice called out.

Oh no.

Layla sat up in her cot and reached for the bow and arrow she kept next to her.

"Intruders!" Aya whispered at her right.

"Do not put your arrow down," came Bayek at her left ear. "Remember what you were taught."

"We are unarmed and not here to hurt you!" the voices said out loud.

"Be wary, Layla. This could be a trap," Aya warned at her right.

"Wouldn't be the first," Layla muttered as she picked up her bow and set up her arrow and got into position like Bayek had taught her.

"Who goes there?" she called out in English.

"The good guys!" His accent was American.

Good guys. Sure.

"The last 'good' guys that came tried to kill me, so I find that very hard to believe!" Layla said out loud.

"You have to trust us, at least a little bit," the echoes receded as another voice, female, drifted closer. "We're not here to hurt you."

Aya crouched on the stone next to Layla. She turned to face Layla. "You're going to let them in? And risk being caught off guard and killed?" she asked urgently.

I can take the three all at once.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should," Bayek said at her right, arms crossed and apprehensive look across his features.

Layla grimaced at her mind being practically read by Bayek. She formed a tighter grip on the elastic of the bow. So much stronger that it left a deeper indent on her finger tips.

"Fine!" she shouted in response but didn't lower her bow. "Show yourselves."

She wore an orange and black sports jacket with matching pants. Her cheeks were flushed from the setting sun, black baseball cap not helping with keeping the heat out from her sweat soaked hair.

"Do you know who you are?" the woman asked her. She was calm, almost treating Layla like a scared child.

Layla was everything but that.

"My name is Layla Hassan," Layla said confidently. "Who the hell are you?"

"Okay," the woman nodded. "Okay, that's good. Real good. My name is Rebecca," Rebecca pointed to the blond man next to her. "This is Shaun." And then to the man in the white hoodie. "And that's Desmond. We're not here to hurt you."

Layla still wasn't trusting them one bit.

"Are you with Abstergo?" she asked.

"Fuck no," the guy in the white hoodie cursed-Desmond, Bayek reminded. His name is Desmond. "We are so not with Abstergo," he sounded almost offended.

"Layla, just how long have you been in the Animus?" the British man asked. Shaun.

"The Animus?"

How do they know?

Wait.

"What do you mean?"

"We're Assassins," Shaun said. "Do you know what year we are in?"

What kind of bullshit question was that?

"2017."

The three exchanged a look of alarm that sent Layla's heart racing.

"When was the last time you ate?" Shaun asked.

They weren't…. ambushing her?

No.

It wasn't an ambush.

Layla found herself slowly lowering the bow and arrow, loosening the elastic behind the arrow until it was back to its stiff form.

"Layla, when was the last time you ate?" Shaun asked again.

She thought back to the granola bar wrappers in the bag and the same plate she had been using. "I don't know. I had some food earlier, I think."

"Shit. Just like I thought."

"Layla, the last communication we were able to intercept was three months ago," Rebecca said.

"What?" Layla asked.

"What...what day is it today?"

"It's January 21st, 2018."

"There's no possible way."

"Animus must have put you in a coma," Shaun said.

"A coma? What do you mean?"

I only used it for a few days after burning the bodies.

The memory brought a wave of anxiety, of a disgusting feeling over her stomach. Nausea feathered through.

"Just like I thought," Shaun said to himself.

"What do you mean by a coma?" Layla asked again, voice slightly raised.

"Okay, Layla, don't panic," Rebecca said as she took a step forward.

Instinctively, Layla took a step back from the trio, the back of her calves hitting the metal of her cot. She felt Bayek and Aya's presences in the back of her head and when she blinked, they were present, speaking to her in Egyptian. Rebecca continued gently talking to Layla in English, while Shaun and Desmond argued in semi-hushed tones.

"I told you that wasn't the way to break the coma news to her," Desmond said with a frustrated groan.

"Well, maybe if your father had come along, things would have worked differently," Shaun said.

"You and I both know that my father has the emotional sensitivity of a goldfish," Desmond said.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Desmond. This really isn't the time for you and your father's problems."

"Layla, you need to really think about this," Aya cautioned.

"Could this be descendants of the Hidden Ones you spoke of once?" Bayek asked.

All five voices overlapped, speaking to Layla at once. She felt her head start hurting more, what used to be a dull headache blending with the pains and her stomach empty and dehydrated body now escalating to what she imagined was a full-on migraine. Her heartbeat raced against her pulse point.

"One-one at a time!" Layla blurted out. "One at a time, please!"

All five of them stopped speaking. Layla closed her eyes and when she opened them, Bayek and Aya were gone.

Fuck.

Layla let out a sigh and sat down on her cot. She held her head between her hands and rubbed at her temples to try to ease down her pain. Her heart still raced.

Confusion and fear rang high in her senses, but she didn't know exactly why or where it came from. It was different from the simulation she could have backed out at any moment. This was reality, in the graveyard of a cave for two mummies and a ditch full of burned bodies.

God, why did she do it? Why did she burn them? Why did she kill them?

Just what the fuck was going on?

"Layla, don't go with them. It could be dangerous," Aya's voice warned. "They could be Abstergo agents."

"But they just said they weren't," Bayek responded.

Shut up, please, just shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Any other moment, she would have welcomed the couple's presences. She would have appreciated, relished in it. Lost herself in it. And for once, she wanted to be alone. Away from Bayek and Aya, away from the Assassins. Just her, alone, in complete silence. No noise, nothing at all. Into the blue screen of the Animus as she synched into another world and time period.

But that same action made her lose track of time. Three months had passed, when really, Layla felt it had only been a few days. And now, three Assassins appear with the intent to help her.

She knew who they were. She knew what they were. Descendants from the Hidden Ones, from the faction Aya and Bayek created and founded, forever in the shadows and never in the history books.

Three months have passed. Three months she had little to no memory of. Three months of daily activities she forgot or blocked out. She was so detached from everything that she didn't bother to check the time, or the date. The burned bodies were buried in a ditch, and that had been three days ago. Not three months ago.

"The Assassins are full of lies," Aya concluded. "They're trying to trick you, Layla. You're smarter than this."

No, that's not what Aya would say. She was a proud Assassin, to the point she abandoned her identity and took on another one altogether as Amunet. But her Aya said differently. Her Aya and Bayek read her thoughts and lived through the present as if they were right there. They were reflections of her Animus-inherited instincts, of her own survival instinct that had kept her alive for the past…

Three months.

"Becs, Shaun…can you take a step back?" Desmond broke the silence.

He took a few steps closer to Aya and stopped there, then crouched to meet her eyes.

"Hey Layla…I understand that you're overwhelmed,"

That's an understatement.

"But I just want you to know that we can help you," Desmond said.

"I know of the Assassins. I know of what you guys do. But I'm not-I'm not okay enough to make any big decisions," Layla said.

"We'll still help you regardless. Just tell us what you need, and we'll help. We can figure out the big stuff later."

Layla thought about it, then she glanced down at her hands.

Her hands had gotten so much thinner. Not skeletal by any chance, but damn close to it.

Had it really been three months?

Fuck.

She really needed help. She really needed food. Maybe these Assassins would be of aid after all.

"Okay," Layla decided. "Fine. I'll work with you."

"Awesome. What do you need us to do?" Desmond asked.

She wanted every single answer to her questions, at least the ones that the assassins could provide, but at the same time…

"Do you have any water?"

She really needed water.

The walk from her 'quarters' to the outside of the cave proved to be a challenge.

Her sandals felt heavy and she ultimately had to lean on Desmond and Rebecca for physical support as she crossed the short distance from the cave's entrance to the back of their parked white van.

"Layla, I'm going to hook you up to an IV. Think of it as medical Gatorade," Rebecca set up the IV drip.

"Do what you have to do," Layla said.

The needle port in her arm was now connected to an IV, the tube leading to a clear bag of an electrolyte solution. With each drop from the clear liquid, Layla slowly became more and more lucid.

The lights inside the gray interior of the van were on, faded yellow light-bulbs giving the area an almost candle-like glow.

Shaun had apologized for being so brash about the whole coma situation. Layla had forgiven him, said it was for another day.

The more hydrated she was, the more she started to remember.

It was night time in the desert and Layla still wore her shorts and hoodie from when she had woken up that early evening. Her sleeping schedule was irregular, and sometimes she was awake all night and asleep all day to avoid the heat. She would type away on her laptop during the cool desert nights that she couldn't sleep, as she tried to make sense of her grief and whatever the hell happened to her that day. The comforter lay at a crumpled heap at the end of her cot and she was trying to hide her shivers. On the days when her sleep was semi-normal, she would pass out on her cot wrapped up in her blanket and wake up with both the comforter and sleeping shorts kicked off and on the ground.

She would get up and do the walk to retrieve the gray comforter now that she was being hydrated. But re-hydration felt so good and she was so comfortable, and she didn't want it to stop.

God, Layla. You really have issues, don't you? Medical Gatorade is not a drug, yet you feel like you're getting high.

No, Layla thought to that self-deprecation voice. I'm getting hydrated.

Along with the cold plastic cup of water she was drinking from, she was slowly feeling better. Her head didn't pound as much anymore. Her surroundings became more and more clearer, the noise in her head subsiding slowly.

Their van was well equipped, stocked to the rim with canned food and rations. They had bottled water and large gallons to last them for months. There was even a portable ice cooler that contained both real and plastic reusable ice cubes.

"How are you feeling?" Desmond asked. He stood at the end of the van, both doors opened.

"Better, thanks for asking. Head doesn't hurt as much anymore," Layla took a small sip from her straw. She wanted to make the feeling of ice cold water last. Who knew how long the Assassins would be here? She could drink water for the rest of her life and she would be so okay with that decision. She cleared her throat, an action she couldn't do for a while. "So earlier, you kept saying my name a lot. Why?"

"The Bleeding Effect can give you an identity crisis sometimes," Desmond said. "You can't tell where one end starts and where the other one, well, ends. And sometimes, they clash together."

Layla nodded, aware enough to know that it has happened to her. The disorientation only lasted for a few moments, but she could find herself and remember her surroundings. Most of the time.

"And the Bleeding Effect may cause you to disconnect from reality too," Desmond said.

Of course, there was that.

Hell, she's fallen asleep while being plugged into the Animus. Maybe that worsened the Bleeding Effect.

Wait, you helped create the Animus. This is your creation, created by you. It's stolen, by you. It's also currently never been used on another subject and is now currently being beta tested, by you.

"Oh," Layla said flatly. "I knew that. Just…didn't know to what extent the Bleeding Effect stretched to, that's all."

Inside her head, Layla could feel Aya, ever so skeptical to the kindness of the three Assassins. The hidden blade was cloaked under her long sleeve hoodie, having only removed it once to wash off the blood from the agents. She slept with the blade on. She bathed with the blade on. It never left her presence, and even if the assassins were being kind to her, she couldn't risk it.

It was a comfort, and the fact that a weapon brought comfort to Layla only reminded that she was so far from gone from being a simple Abstergo researcher.

And now, here were three kind strangers, who managed to track her down, were telling her that she was coming in and out of a coma for the past three months while being hooked up to the Animus.

"You've used the Animus before?" Layla asked.

"Yup," Desmond popped open a lukewarm Coke. "Practically lived in it."

Well, that makes two of us.

"But nothing like yours," Desmond idly gestured to the direction of the cave. "It was a much larger, bulkier version of it. But I'm retired from it now."

"Calling my baby fat?" Rebecca asked from the passenger seat where a small, travel sized computer sat open on her lap.

"Why I would never," Desmond said, all false indignancy.

"Baby?" Layla frowned.

"It's what Rebecca calls her Animus," Desmond explained. "She's been our technician since...2011?" he turned to Rebecca for confirmation.

"Yup!" she answered brightly. "We've been a team for a long time."

"The three of us used to research my ancestors from the Renaissance and Colonial Eras," Desmond took a seat on the unopened crate of canned food across from Layla. The sleeves of his white hoodie rolled down as he folded his hands behind his head. "Shaun is our historian."

And that's when Layla saw it.

She saw charred skin underneath his sleeve. And again, the feeling of that memory returned. She could practically smell the burning flesh. God.

Layla tried not to think from the dugout grave anymore.

But the arm looked familiar. Desmond's name rang a bell through the brain fog that came with using the Animus. Like she had seen it somewhere before, not in person, but-

Suddenly, it made sense.

Well, to say everything made sense would be a false statement. Rather, his identity made sense. The name Desmond was one she had heard before, whispered in confidential files behind shockingly easy firewalls. Back when she worked with Abstergo.

"You're Sample 17," Layla said aloud in bewilderment. "Also known as Subject 17. Your ancestors were the Kenways."

"Yeah," Desmond grimaced.

"Back when I broke the rules at AI, as punishment, I got sent to be a glorified note-taker at Abstergo Entertainment," Layla said. "In the Sample 17 project with Edward Kenway. No actual animus usage, that was my co-worker; all I did was review footage and take notes on database entries, but I snooped around their desktop when I got bored. I found your forensic files."

"Oh boy," Desmond muttered. "Yeah. There was that thing."

"I thought you were dead," Layla was astounded. She read the reports, read the testimonies from the body retrieval team. The impact should have killed him. A lot of things should have killed him. He was supposed to be dead. Forensics confirmed that.

"Everyone did," Desmond said. "I was wanted D or A by the Templars and Those Who Came Before. Sure, I mean I did technically die, but I wasn't dead-dead. But this is not the time and place for it, though," he continued. "Right now, let's just focus on you. The Animus kept putting you in and out of a coma?"

A story for another day, then.

"I guess?" Layla asked. "Now that I feel more aware, I know I've been eating my rations and taking baths in the small pool next to... well, next to a mummy. I can feel my hair wet sometimes. But I don't...remember doing any of those things. I know who I am, and that I used to work for Abstergo. Both Industries and Entertainment."

The latter against my will.

Layla debated on telling them about the burnt bodies. It wasn't like they would rat her out to the authorities, right?

Right?

"I still don't trust them," Aya suddenly spoke.

The sound of her voice in the relative silence of her head made Layla jump.

"Are you okay?" Desmond asked.

"I'm fine. Just...felt some chills, that's all," Layla lied and zipped up her hoodie all the way.

Layla had to get better at lying about the whole 'seeing and hearing' Bayek, Aya and feeling sensations she knew weren't there. Especially if she was going to have three new roommates staying outside her head for the foreseeable future.

And should their theory be truly correct that Layla was indeed missing chunks of her own memories due to an Animus coma, she was going to be due for a very lengthy panic attack.

Hopefully the chapter made up for the delay! And now, our modern faves are in tow for this adventure. :) Hell yeah. Thank you for reading: reviews are ALWAYS welcomed!