Chapter Text
Touching the eye hurts like a bitch and Juno is a bitch ass liar.
Desmond groans as he peels open his eyes, his vision blurs for a moment before being able to focus on his golden surroundings. His body seems to be cramped in a tight box in fetal position.
What a nice casket.
Desmond muses as he wheezed, reaching for the lip of the casket as he pulls himself to sit upright. His stomach rolls as it threatens to throw up, which is exactly what Desmond proceeds to do. Pulling himself over the edge of the casket and hurling nothing but stomach acid onto the stone platform below. He wheezes for a moment before taking the time to observe his surroundings, squinting ever so slightly trying to see in the dark as cracks above barely let down rays of light to illuminate the room he is in.
Ah yes, rough cave walls. Very welcoming sight for this place feels and looks like a god damn tomb. The structure seems quite familiar, but he can’t really pinpoint the familiarity. Desmond frowned as he looked down from the stone platform he was on.
oh,
Oh.
Please tell him that this is a dream, a fucked-up afterlife.
Desmond looked at the body laying still in the clearing below and he knew that gray hood even if only for moments. The world around him buzzes and his heart pounded in his chest as he heaves himself out of the casket. Only his instincts help him survived his frantic scramble down the collapsed doorway, god, doorway.
He drops to his knees beside the body and pull back the gray hood with a trembling hand, revealing the face of Kadar. Who’s face is clammy and pale but the slight stubble of facial hair and high nose bridge of the al-sayfs with all evidents pointing towards the undeniable fact. the man laying infront of him is undoubtably Kadar, and he is dying.
Desmond gently put two fingers against the side of Kadar’s neck feeling the weak pulse of his heartbeat. Letting out a sigh of relief that Kadar is not dead before turning his attention at the open wound that slowly oozes blood onto the stone floor.
Bandages, he need clean bandages. Fuck, he is not watching Kadar die even if this is a shitty dream.
Desmond clenches his teeth as he bring Kadar’s knee up then taking one of the throwing knife Kadar carries and cautiously sliced the cloth around the slice wound and tossing it aside. He then slice the sleeves of his hoodie off as he wrap the improvised dressing around the wound. He needs to stitch the wound together... he needs to...
they need to get out of here...
He picked up Kadar in a cradle carry as he looks around franticly for an exit, looking up at the platform. The possibilities of him scaling up the wall is zero with Kadar in his arms. His mind racing as he activates his eagle vision, scouring the room for alternative escape routes but all that greets him is the distant red silhouette templars and the gray unforgiving walls around him.
[Climb, use your limbss.] An unfamiliar voice suggested.
Thank you captain obvious. His limbs are busy holding up Kadar al-Sayf. Desmond snarked as he felt on the edge of a panic attack.
[No! Not those limbs! The onesss on your back you four-legged idiot.] The voice hissed, Desmond is 90 percent sure this is not one of his ancestors bleeding into him right now.
Desmond eyes widens as he felt the weight on his back that now felt like stones. The appendages flaring open once acknowledged. He glanced at them and-
Holy fucking shit.
There are four black hairy spider limbs with golden accents that seems to have grown out of his back. Piercing through his hoodie and very much alive and very much controllable.
[Stupid.] The voice commented.
Desmond ignored the voice as he approaches the walls, cautiously commanding a spider leg to touch the cave wall, grimacing at how he can feel the cold stone. Taking in a sharp breath he brought another spider leg to latch onto the cave wall.
This would be like a leap of faith, right? Just, backwards.
He lifted himself upwards, cradling Kadar closer to his chest as blood turns the white improvised dressing completely red. His right arm trembles at the extensive weight as he ascends slowly upwards with the spider legs being surprisingly steady.
He gasps as pulled himself onto the elevated platform. Wobbling dangerously as his feet touches the floor, he leans against the wooden pillar holding the tunnel up as his legs feels boneless and his knees threatens to give out under his weight. Desmond snaps his head downwards sharply, the hood thrown onto his head haphazardly.
He then ran as fast as his legs can carry him through the tunnels, using his new spider limbs to boost and stabilize himself whenever he almost topples. Knowing that Kadar’s life is ticking down on a timer.
==============
Desmond manages to a pouch of some-templar's belongings and boots when sneaking out of the Vault through the sleeping area. Breaking into a run as soon as he is out of the danger area, racing across the rooftops with the moonless night as his cover.
It took longer than he'd like to find a place to stay for the night within the poor district of Jerusalem. The voice in his head thankfully was quiet during the entirety of the search, for he was hyper focusing on avoiding any detection from everybody, please go home random women.
Desmond spotted a half-collapsed building after a while of running around, parts of the building's wall was gone likely due to a catapult during the siege if he remembered correctly. Thanks for your nerdiness, Shuan, and extreme boredom out of the Animus.
The second story was completely exposed and dirty so he hops down to the base level of the house to try his luck. Thankfully, the base level of the house is in much better shape even if half of the space is filled with debris there was a doorway to a room that held up. Desmond took a moment to take in the sad state of the room. The said room is completely bare expect pieces of rotting wood of what Desmond guess was a chair, the left wall had a small crack that wind slips through easily, the floor is covered in a thin layer of dust, and a corner of the roof had crumbled, exposing the night sky.
Right, beggars can’t be choosers. Priority number one. Sewing the stomach wound shut.
Desmond sets Kadar down onto the dusty floor along with the pouch he stole in the corner that had the lease debris, checking Kadar's heartbeat one more time before climbing out once again, skipping a few homes near where they are staying before starting his burglary.
Most windows were simple wooden planks and cloth, meaning no locks. He entered each house easily, maybe too easily. Searching through the cabinets and baskets as quietly as he can. Funnily enough he never really been into random buildings before when reliving Altair's memories. Abstergo, fuck those guys, had pipeline it to be focused on the events only, everything had a lifeless feeling to it like those shitty videogames only made to make money. At the end of his looting of four homes, he gotten a small vase of light alcohol, a small pot, a needle and threads, and a few pieces of cloth he plans to tear apart later for bandages.
He felt bad for robbing these people, but Kadar desperately needs the supplies. If they are good people, they would understand if he took some. If they were bad people, then they probably deserve it.
[they can live without these materials.] The voice hissed, startling Desmond and almost missing the building ledge he was jumping to. [Don’t be fearful, I am stuck here with you as you are with me]
“Yeah.” Desmond mumbles, barely manages to hold back an eye roll, patting himself on the back mentally for that achievement as he pull himself onto the roof. “Not everyday you wake up with a voice of someone you don’t recognize.” [yesss, and not every day where you heat to death and wake up in the back mind of a human.] the voice hissed back. [You had not introduced oneself yet.]
“Desmond” he whispered as he slips into the collapsed building, he decided to stay in. “Desmond Miles, and you are?”
[I am Leap, for I leap well.] The voice- Leap replied, pleased at the introduction, oblivious to Desmond frowning at the strange name. [I am birthed to be a spider, not... man.]
“Wonderful, great, truly enlightening. Let’s talk about this later.” Desmond shoves the thought of what Isu bullshit has happened as he stumbled into the room setting down the supplies carefully and taking off his dirty hoodie, jeans and sneakers to be burned as fuel. Rummages through the templar pouch he stole. Taking out a cream-colored shirt which he had to cut holes into the back to make space for his spider limbs, brown pants that are a bit short and leather boots barely managing to fit. Thank God there are also a waterskin and flint and steal inside the pouch.
Desmond collected what remains of rotting wooden chair into a small pile lighting it on fire with the flint and steel, feeding the flames his clothing and sneaker. He then pours water into the small pot, throwing the needle and thread into the pot so it can be sterilized. Taking a few throwing knives from Kadar to stab into the ground, which took many tries, so he can set the pot above the fire.
After all that is done, he sat down, slumping against the wall as he tries to collect his thoughts. Digging his good left hand into his scalp and pulling ever so lightly. Letting out a tired sigh as he observes his burnt right arm which throbs dully in pain. There are golden markings similar to Pieces of Eden which curves and wraps itself upwards all the way to his shoulder blades where the angry black burnt skin seems to smoothen out to healthy skin.
Stretching his right hand experimentally wincing at the sharp stabbing pain when he bends the wrist in certain ways. Is that- there is also a hole slightly below where his wrist is. It seems to have deformed his tendons and muscles, shifting it to the sides to probably make room of something. Was it spinnerets? Fuck, does it mean he can produce silk to spin webs? He rather not thinks about that at the moment and confront the more dire question at the moment.
“How the fuck did I ended up here?” he mumbles to himself, if he remembers correctly, he just woke up in the goddamn Ark of Covenant in the goddamn Jerusalem Vault and beside him lays a very real Kadar who bleed, and he can feel the warm heat of the blood and rough texture of the fabric unlike within the Animus which it felt like blocks of solid air that stops his movement yet does not manage to feel like anything.
Sure, he imagined what it would be like if he traveled back in times during those brief breaks between Animus sessions. Yet all those musing of plans and adventure now feels garbage and completely un-useable now that he is here for, he is no Shaun and only knows the absolute bare bones about culture and how things work here due to Altair's memories. There are honestly more questions than answers at the moment.
[Question which I also wisssh to know about] The voice- right, Leap spoke up again suddenly. Almost giving Desmond a heart attack as he suddenly remembers there’s a voice of a spider in his head. He slowly rubbed his hands against his face as he tries to control his heartbeat back to normal. Please tell him that almost having heart attacks everytime Leap speak will not become a habit in the future.
“Alright, let’s comb through these events.” Desmond finally spoke after a long moment of silence after his heartbeat slows to normal. “So, I got told to choose between touching the eye to save earth from the solar flare but free Juno or letting people die. And I choose to touch the eye where you also were and we both burned, yes?”
[Yesss.] Leap hissed slowly, [I was hidden in your...white hide]
“You mean my hoodie?” Desmond asked oh so tiredly.
[Yess, I wanted what Human life is like.] the spider answered, [I also wanted to see what being a bird is like too. Can you sprout wings?]
“Hopefully not” he emphasizes the word not as he grumbled. Did Leap single handedly fucked up Juno's plans by being there when Desmond burned? Most likely, but still does not explain how he traveled back in time and if the eye even worked or considered the addition of spider DNA invalid- nope nope not thinking about that.
Deeming the needle boiled for long enough as he uses a cloth to empty out the pot. Leaving the needle and threads in as he set the pot down nearby Kadar’s prone body, waiting for it to cool slightly before using it.
The fire crackles quietly as he leans back against the wall. His breathing has a slight wheeze to it, a burst of dread seems to shot through his chest as the fire let out a loud snap. He rubbed his eyes and looked away from the fire. Letting out another sigh that seems to rattle his bones as he stares at nothing in particular, his mind feeling too crowded at the moment with exhaustion and anxiety, sprinkled with slight bleeding of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fear of fire. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. He must be the world's favorite chew toy.
Desperately wanting to keep himself from spiraling into a panic attack, he washed his hands in the watery alcohol. Picking up the cooled down sterilized needle and threading it, he watched the warm flickering lights reflect off the thin metal for a moment before turning his gaze at the completely soaked through red dressing wrapped around Kadar's stomach.
Desmond took in a shakily breath before peeling the dressing off slowly carefully. Revealing the ugly wound that almost costs Kadar's life. He can feel the spider cringing at the sight of exposed moving flesh.
Good, Leap will be too disturbed to speak. Desmond's brows furrowed as he got to work sewing the wound close. Kadar will live this time and not die to Altair's stupidity, or else he will fistfight God out of pure spite.