I stand beside Deimos, her unconscious frame being dumped in the Animus chair for better and quicker access. Bill takes care of her wound while Rebecca clicks away in her terminal, Antonov's slender figure coming in and out of the room with a big group of remaining assassins, cleaning up the mess of bodies and blood.
So much blood, not even in the memories of old Assassins did this level of gore appeared.
I dart my eyes over to the fallen weapon, still shimmering with power. I bob my leg in desperation, my thoughts and suspicions going wild. I leave Deimos' side and quickly grab the weapon by the handle, the heaviness taking me by surprise.
I huff as it takes all my breath, opting for pulling it along rather than breaking my back with it. The faces of the others turn to me, question in their faces.
"I'm telling you, there's something completely wrong with this thing. I thought she was behaving oddly because of the events in London, but why do I feel that this is deeper than intended." I dump it on the ground, a loud clang resonating around the room.
"What are you talking about? What behavior, Shaun?." Asks William, the man running some hydrogen peroxide on her wound, taking an alcohol pad out and cleaning the blood from her face, the healing process in her body taking quick care of the wound.
"She has been drifting off, like staring into space, her head in the clouds. She even opened up on pieces of Juno's life and the meaning of the Templars' Father of Understanding. All of it was with fear, and for this hunk of a woman to be afraid, more than a legion of enemies is needed.. and even that is doubtful." I say while I sit down, looking at the weapon intendedly.
Rebecca turns her chair towards me, I look at her to find a hint of fear and also recognition on her features.
"You once told me something against the sword.. that when it glowed, she did. Did none of you really noticed how even both her eyes were full on glowing?." The fog of todays events clears up slowly at her words, the image of my lover being completely out of control coming to life.
"And she sounded like a man just then. Who did she called for? Pàter?." I look up to her, eyelids shut and expression marking pain.
"It means 'father' in Greek. She didn't call for him.. she pleaded him to.. leave?." I ask, feeling guilty of seeing her get lost and not indulging in this dilema any sooner.
William places everything in the medkit again, getting up and discarding the used materials, a deep sigh coming form him as he looks at the blood residue on the floor, the few assassins left cleaning it with all their might.
It's a good thing that he ordered Becs to restrict access to the Network, otherwise, any of these scared and scrawny men would've already thrown an alarm, an assured legion of Heavies arriving here in a blink and taking her to a house, surely killing her for causing a massacre. Her breathing becomes more erratic as she starts to wake up, a confused and dazed look in her eyes.
I stand from my chair and sit beside her on the Animus, grabbing her hand slowly, not wanting to scare her off more than she probably is.
Damn me for not investigating when there was time.
She rips her hand from me, eyes lidded with exhaustion and fear. I calmly grab her by the arms, shushing her in her mother tongue, the woman staying still after a few minutes.
"It's over now, you're okay." She looks around, her white and blue orbs falling to the floor, where the forgotten weapon lays.
She squirms and hyperventilates, a tear going loose on her face.
"Κάνε το να σταματήσει, σε παρακαλώ, άσε με ήσυχο." She says in Greek, a desperate tone in her voice. [Make it stop, please, leave me alone.]
"Κάντε τον να σωπάσει. Σκάσε. Σκάσε. Σκάσε." She continues as I cradle her softly in my arms, obstructing her view of the weapon with my hand as I caress her healing face. [Make him shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.]
"Someone please take that far away." I say, William coming up and taking the weapon away.
Rebecca sighs a bit, a leg bobbing side to side in thought.
"Why don't you both go and rest? God knows she needs that as well as you." She says while turning around and going back to her tasks, shoulders sagging in defeat.
I ignore the need to tell her the current time, the clock not even hitting nine in the morning, but regress on the though as Deimos' erratic and fast heartbeat is felt on my hand that lays on her back, her emotional state being too thin to be left alone.
I will myself to carry her to our room, not wanting her to walk over the pool of body bits and making everything worse. Her head sits cradled in my neck, arms encircling herself and legs tucked in as best as possible, the act of trying to diminish herself being clear.
I open the door to our room and close it with a firm push of my foot, going to the bed and placing her gently on it. I think about changing her—or well, my—blood soaked shirt, but quickly take my hands back while my face grows hot.
"Come on, love. Let's change you out of these clothes, yeah?." I gently say while grabbing the old long shirt of mine she uses to sleep in, heat spreading to my chest.
I go from behind and take the shirt by the hem, prompting her to softly raise her arms and for me to briefly admire the markings on her back. Such beautiful pattern making her more radiant than what she is.
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I blink quickly as I place the new shirt on, my heart beating uncontrollably by the train of thoughts, the fact that I stared a bit too long not helping the situation. She sighs and I guide her to lay on the bed softly, rouge and silent tears going down her cheeks.
I will myself to clam down and go around the bed, taking my shirt off and laying with her, her head on my chest to drown out the sound of silence with my heartbeat.
"I'm sorry for not listening to your silence. You were asking for help, and I shrugged it off thinking it was only a product of the accident. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier, it didn't help at all. I'm sorry, sweetheart." I kiss her temple gently, guilt eating me away as all the times she couldn't even eat a piece of candy without staring off comes to mind.
I should've known, for her to remain this silent only happens when she sleeps. But no, I had to shrug it off and blame the extensive months of healing and fever induced episodes. I always knew something was off with the sword, but now it's crystal clear.
Ares is somehow tied to the sword, now we need to find a way to bury him forever.
