Come Out in the Wash

[madimpossibledreamer]

This quote is original and it’s such a good line from Wolf I had to include it. He’s good people. “You look for evil in people, sooner or later, you’ll find it. Even when it wasn’t there in the first place.” (also the ‘it’s a cold place’--I forgot that line was actually in there)
actual line from the game from Nicholas: “I’m still not convinced he’s not here, somewhere, feeding on the ghosts of lost children like some kind of bogeyman.” He knows intuitively what was going on, even if he didn’t know the specifics.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond and the others do a little cleanup after taking down the Park.
Word Count: 3223
Rating: Teen 

         It’s the middle of the night when they finally get back out, and the sky doesn’t even change color when they step outside the area where the Park had been. The fences aren’t still up, not that it would have mattered when they’re exiting near where the front entrance had been. Alice is actually finally starting to do the grumpy sleepy child thing, glaring at Carter when she tries to help.
         “I’m trying to get better about letting other people help too,” Desmond admits. It’s...a lot easier to say this kind of stuff when he’s trying to help someone else. She doesn’t instantly become more agreeable, thinking about it as they walk before finally accepting the help with a pout. She doesn’t instantly obviously brighten or start grinning when Bob comes running with a long squeal, leash trailing behind him, and bowls her over with a charge at her legs, but she does pet him rather than scolding him or ignoring him, so Desmond’s going to go with ‘she actually enjoyed that’.
         Nate doesn’t bother to try to explain the obvious that Bob had gotten away from him as he follows, panting a little, but he does do some kind of mock salute Desmond doesn’t recognize. Probably another reference to something he hasn’t seen. “Sorry,” he states briefly, before moving on. “Boss, I’m impressed.”
         “Are we going to be able to cleanse it entirely?” Desmond asks, because he’s pretty sure, but he’d like a second opinion.
         Nate glances back out and then shrugs. “I think we’re going to be able to get it back to the baseline of ‘this entire island is cursed’, I guess would be the easiest way to put it. As neutral as it gets around here.”
         He doesn’t have time to add anything else, and the same goes for Chelsea and some of the other Druids of Avalon trailing behind, because it turns out the Templars had decided to come to this side, rather than staying near the barn. Or...where the barn had been. It’s hard to tell whether they’d just been throwing their weight around or actually doing something useful, though given that they’re immediately on hand, Desmond’s guessing the first one. They’re storming up to Desmond.
         “Can I interrupt Ms. Palmer now?” Javier’s sneering, but he’s plastered that on over something else. Panic? Grudging respect? Desmond doesn’t know and he’s not going to be playing guessing games. It’s interesting that he’s implying he had actually waited, though. Rather than being annoying the entire time. Desmond’s kind of impressed; it’s a feat he hadn’t known the guy was capable of. He would’ve thought Javier would consider patience to be beneath him, somehow.
         Just because Desmond is pleasantly surprised by the idea that the guy isn’t a total asshole doesn’t mean he’s just going to go along with that demand, though. “Can’t we at least get a moment to catch our breath?” Rukh clacks his beak threateningly. Desmond’s starting to get the feeling that whatever patience Rukh had is gone.
         Javier fidgets with his sword. It’s lucky that Desmond’s had the experience with Masyaf and all of Ezio’s recruits and Revolutionary War soldiers to read that as actually just a nervous fidget and not him preparing to actually use it to skewer anyone. “You don’t ignore a summons.” That’s grudging, and despite any potential efforts to make it sound like a threat it’s more of a warning. Which—Desmond’s seen political intrigue in the Italian Renaissance. Not firsthand, exactly, but. He knows how this works.
         “I’ll talk to her.” It’s still her choice. If she wants to leave the Templars, it’s her choice, and he’ll protect her if they decide to be jerks about it. That being said, he’s just gotten an idea about something she could do to help.
         Javier nods abruptly. He does actually stand back, though, waiting, rather than following Desmond closely, so maybe that implication wasn’t a lie after all.
         Carter shakes her head. “What’s his deal?” She’s a little distracted by stopping Alice from tipping over, though—apparently she’d fallen asleep. Given that she doesn’t look expectantly at him for an answer, he’s guessing it’s more of a rhetorical question anyway.
         Rukh makes some kind of grumbling noise in his throat, glancing at the rain again, and then starts trying to pull the hood up over himself as a kind of mini-raincoat, tugging insistently. He rubs his beak against Desmond’s neck when he accidentally grabs a bit of skin, apologetic, and then goes right back to doing it again.
         Chelsea is looking a little down, though. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t as useful as I should have been. I need to train more.”
         “You did what you could—and trust me, we all needed that boost.” She doesn’t look fully convinced, but he adds, “...I’ve got an idea that could help.” She’s a little skeptical, but he’s guessing it’s mostly because even with what she’s learned, her first instinct is still being straightforward. Not in moving behind the scenes. She’s gotten a little better at dealing with, say, Lydia, but she’s still got a ways to go when it comes to being more flexible and considering different approaches. Which means it’s about time he considered something like the Thieves’ Guild or the courtesans, to teach her things he’s not an expert in.
         Lydia herself (or her grandmother; from her voice it sounds more like Ligeia, not that he can tell from this distance—and he doesn’t want to interrupt) is still coordinating and helping out the Druids as they continue their cleansing rituals. He’ll catch up with her later. They’re probably not going to be finished for a while. Honestly, he gets the feeling it might not even be necessary, but none of them want to take a chance.
         To his surprise, though, John Wolf is here, with his wolf, even, who seems to be just as involved with the proceedings as Rukh. As effortlessly as a dance he steps out and one of the druids steps back in—taking turns, probably because of how long it’s taken. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been, but he has a feeling time doesn’t quite work the same in there. Sure, they’re probably all used to this kind of thing, long spellcasting sessions, but Desmond has to imagine (without knowing how this usually goes) that even then it's not usually this taxing. “Listen to that, my friend. Beyond the sounds of the chanting and the rain.”
         Desmond humors the guy. It can’t hurt. It’s just rain and a little wind. He doesn’t even hear the zombies or the scarecrows revving their chainsaws or anything else.
         Wolf-John nods with satisfaction. “Guess you could call my day job being an exorcist. And this, the quiet after, this is what we strive for. Peace. The trapped souls have stopped screaming. They’re at rest. It’s not forever; there’s always another fight on the horizon, but today you can pat yourself on the back, because this is a victory.”
         “How did you know to come looking?” he asks, curious, and John smiles.
         “The Black House, actually. I’ve been keeping an eye on that, and the Park too. It was a cold place. A cruel place. I thought I’d seen and exorcised the worst of the worst. But I was wrong. Hubris, I guess. Or maybe my faith in people. It wasn’t witchcraft, wasn’t dying thoughts of revenge. The locals made their own witch. You look for evil in people, sooner or later, you’ll find it. Even when it wasn’t there in the first place.”
         Isn’t that just the truth. “Something happened to it?”
         “It’s gone. Not even ash. Tried to walk over the land and it didn’t seem so empty. So hostile. Followed the thread over here, and the rest you know. I figured I’d lend a hand.”
         Desmond...only destroyed it in the vision in the Park, but...he’s not going to try to think about that too hard. He’s already got a headache.
         And they’re not even the only ones, because he actually gets multiple texts. Nothing from Rebecca or Shaun, but if his last phone call was any indication, they’re trying to lay low and not draw attention to him. He gets it, but it’s still a struggle to not take it personally anyway.

Hey, Desmond. Trying not to keep the other survivors up with my yapping in this closet, so I’m sending a text instead. Thank goodness for reasonable keyboards! So it turns out, with me digging into everything, that my parents also didn’t mention I had an uncle I never met, who died during the construction. I’m thinking that you helped him get some amount of peace, too. Thanks. -Danny

You’re welcome. Quick question, though: is there anyplace with a tragedy on this island that isn’t a spot for dares? 

don’t think so -Danny

That kind of initiative and capability gets you noticed here in the Illuminati. The kind of noticed that gets you perks. Working for the Dragon is so thankless—you had to rely on old-fashioned Templar hospitality to even get you a shitty bare-bones apartment. Bet they didn’t even spring for a bonus—oh, that’s right, they don’t even bother paying you something nice and steady so you can pay rent, or spring for that nice motorcycle you’ve been eyeing. We can do that. I’m even willing to forget about this whole ‘threatening you’ thing. You can keep the Talisman. Consider it an advance on your salary. -Kirsten Geary

         Desmond, highly disturbed by the fact that she’d somehow managed to teleport a talisman into his pack too, considers it for a moment and then decides to immediately leave it in the care of the Council agents, on the highly likely chance that it’s bugged somehow. They’ll probably know what to do with it, and even if they don’t...well, he’s a little upset about Lorraine’s situation, though that’s not something he’s going to be able to deal with for a bit. He has to have more built up if he hopes to go up against the Council specifically.
         He’ll put up with creepiness from Rebecca, but that’s because he actually knows her. He really doesn’t want to get to know Geary, especially as he’s pretty sure she’s the type to torture him for hours and then offer him a position, like it’s just a routine hazard of interviewing for jobs these days. She says she’s willing to forget about it, but he’s not sure she’s not the type to just lie blatantly to his face.
         But she’s not even the last one. He wasn’t quite expecting Rebecca, but he’d almost forgotten about one of the other strange...secret worlders? He’s pretty sure he’d heard somebody at The Horned God call them that, back when he’d been hanging out with Shaun and Rebecca, and given that he’s not sure if this DK is a bee or is even human, he’s going to err on the side of just calling this person somebody in the know, rather than anything specific.

Heard you cleaned up a real fix round that greenland. Don’t lose that sharp edge that got you here, though. Don’t want you to become a dewdropper or a highbinder!
Your pals are too busy bumping gums to drop you a dime, so I’ll lend you some change. Blind date, conspiracy theorist, North Sargasso Sea. Take the number. -DK

         Desmond still doesn’t get all the slang, but he doesn’t have to to get the idea that he’s being told not to let the victory go to his head. Date + conspiracy theorist does not equal Shaun, he has to remind his heart. But even if it isn’t, it’s a useful tip, because ‘conspiracy theorist’ feels gold even though that’s not a name, so that’s not as helpful as it could be. Then again, maybe it’s a bit of a test? Sort of like what Al Mualim was doing with Altaïr at the beginning, seeing if he remembered the basics, even if that thought makes him just about as uncomfortable as the text from Geary. Maybe he should ask around.
         “The rest of us can sweep up. You’ve earned a rest.” John tells him. “I’d take a shower before you hit the hay, though. There’s a power in water.” So he subscribes to the water-as-cleansing thing, too, which honestly probably helps, if they’re all on the same page, there, when they’re doing a spell like that. And symbolically it makes sense if you put it in the context of a shower.
         “One of you two can go first,” he tells Carter and Alice. Carter cheers. He’s got one last thing he’s got to do before he can go about putting this all behind him. Carter lets Alice go first, though she’s staying right outside just in case Alice slips or falls asleep in there. She might’ve suggested she was an only kid, but the way she’s acting, he gets the feeling that like him that was only true in the strictest sense of the word. That she’d looked after a younger kid, maybe more than one.
         Nicholas Winter, thankfully, is staying with the Council agents. It means he doesn’t have to go through the work of trying to find the guy. Desmond hesitates a little before going in, but at least for the moment they’re his allies.
         “I feel like I can leave now, assuming I can get off this godforsaken island,” Nicholas greets him—yep that’s the same cane. Desmond had been right. But it feels different now, which probably means his guess about a trap had been right. “Assuming I can get in touch with Grayson Security, or some other helpful type with a helicopter. But there’s one last thing I want before I wrap this chapter of my life up for good.”
         Desmond doesn’t feel that need to rush him along, now. To hurry him out of danger. “What’s that?”
         Nicholas sighs. “You know perfectly well. I want—no, I need answers. It’s only reason I even bothered to come out here. I could’ve sold it without stepping foot here, and I told myself I needed to appraise it for myself, but the truth is, I wanted to know. What was so important Dad felt the need to press on, despite all the deaths and pain. What he hoped to accomplish—because he was a shrewd businessman, even if he wasn’t a very good father. He didn’t make a useless investment. What happened to him. Why the hell he’d leave it for me, when he hadn’t left me a single cent, otherwise. What his will meant by the original plans.”
         ...Yeah. He deserves to know, but at the same time, he deserves the chance to just move on with his life without those answers. “You sure you want those answers? They’re not pretty.”
         “I’ve known that. Since I was a child, I think. I just didn’t know the shape of it. The bogeyman lurking in the closet or under the bed. If I can put a name to it, I’ll rest a whole lot easier.” Bogeyman, huh? Funny choice of words.
         “He was so obsessed with overcoming fear that he became it,” Desmond tells Nicholas gently, holding out the bloodstained feather. If he’d given this to Javier, he probably could’ve gotten even more respect, because blood rituals (magic optional) seem like the Templars’ kind of thing. But somehow he knew that this was meant for Nicholas, especially since who knows if they’ll even find a body to bury.
         The man stares at it. Swallows. Grief, pain, anger, relief, and mostly just this bone-deep weariness cross his face, fighting each other for space in his heart. “I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you.”
         “You could always do both,” Desmond suggests helpfully, and Nicholas smiles, no longer distant but fully present.
         “I suppose I could, at that.” He reaches out and takes the feather, an action whose weight is far higher than the physical. “So this Park he constructed was some sort of...machine of fear.”
         “It’s...more complicated than that.” Mostly because of Henderson, though he’s not going to get into that, too. He’s going to keep it fairly general, mostly because he wants to actually remain conscious through the whole thing, but also because Nicholas should be able to go back to his life without getting sucked back in. “Magic is real, and so are curses. He thought his money should be able to buy him anything he wanted, including magic, even though that’s not how it works. From what some others have said, I get the feeling that you can train it, but he didn’t want that.”
         Nicholas snorts. “By the sound of it, he wanted to be the equivalent of old money, born into privilege. Not new money, not the self-made man. In a way, cutting me off, he did me a favor—I actually had to work for what I have.” Yeah...there was an aspect of looking for shortcuts to all of this, wasn’t there?
         “He chose this place because in the curse, there’s a power here. He chose a theme park because he wanted the machine to run off of happiness.”
         Nicholas looks confused. “Is that...as nonsensical as it sounds?”
         “I can’t explain that part.” Among other things, he’s nothing like an expert on magic, which is what he’d told Chelsea. “Maybe he thought darker emotions wouldn’t work to overcome fear.”
         Nicholas shakes his head, remembering something. “The story of Old Man Henderson when I was a child. My father told me not to pay it any mind. It wasn’t real, and if it was, he’d been a fool, not someone to learn from. That stuck in my head.”
         It would. And it sounds like something Bill Miles would say, which might be why the Park was so good at using that against Desmond.
         “That sounds more like he thought his way was foolproof, like it couldn’t be twisted.” That makes absolutely no sense, but does seem like the kind of thing someone who barely understands magic (or...honestly, anything, but then he probably hadn’t had to see the Borgia try to act like normal people either) would think. “Anyway, that’s it—he built the machine to harvest happiness to overcome his own fears, do something with magic, and become immortal. It all worked—sort of.”
         “But it required the sacrifice of innocents. And you put a stop to it.” Nicholas swallows again. “To him.” He takes a deep breath, not fully ready for the next question, but he wants to know. “What was he planning to do with me?”
         So he’d realized he’d been lured here. “I don’t know,” Desmond responds honestly, and Nicholas nods, clutching the cane in his hands.
         “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Out of love, or contempt, my fate at his hands would not have been pretty.” Nicholas stands, holding out a hand for a handshake. “Thank you, you bastard. For saving me from the gravity of this place. For confirmation of my father’s fate. For granting me the dignity of answers, and for the reminder to stay the hell away from my father’s mistakes, or…” he waves the cane around vaguely, “...any of this.”
         “You’re welcome,” Desmond tells him, meeting the handshake before Nicholas takes his leave.