Safe and Sound

It was so stupid, so pointless. Yet here she was, staring blankly at the Animus' data screen, barely registering the numbers and pictures that were Desmond's experiences flashing across the screen.

"All right, Miss Stillman, that's enough for today," Warren was saying, which was odd because she was usually the one that had to beg for a break. A few commands later and Desmond was sitting up, blinking at the bright white walls and sunlight streaming in through the window behind her.

"How are you feeling?" Lucy heard herself say, and stood, although she didn't remember asking her legs to move.

"Just... a little dizzy." Desmond touched his head briefly, then swung his legs around and stood unsteadily.

"Here." And suddenly she had her hands on his arm, was putting it around her shoulders. The bartender's scent, strangely amazing, wreathed around her.

Desmond didn't say anything, yet she expected some sort of thanks, anything really. Lucy's head turned, slightly offended. He was staring at the ground, eyes closed and forehead creased in what looked like pain.

"Are you...?" she began, but then Desmond raised his head and looked into her eyes. It could be romantic, she supposed, but his eyes looked distracted, a million miles away, making it just feel... not right.

And then he opened his mouth and screamed.

Lucy jolted awake, torn out of her dream by the sounds of screams that still echoed around her room. For a split second, she thought they were coming from her lips, but quick examination revealed her mouth was, in fact, closed. No, the ear-splitting shrieks were coming from somewhere else.

Slowly, Lucy drew back the blankets and stood, padding into the hallway. She stopped, standing still for a half-second attentively before the source was revealed. Two doors down, Desmond was screaming.

Lucy bit her lip, torn. She should leave him; she knew that was the best thing to do with Animus patients, and under no circumstances should a subject experiencing the Bleeding Effect in their sleep be woken, but her dream was still fresh in her mind. She wasn't completely sure why, but she wanted to feel contact with Desmond, in whatever way. She wanted his scent around her; she could still almost smell it.

Cursing herself, Lucy took a step away from her door. But a creak in the floorboard was enough to send her scurrying back into her room.

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"You were... uh, screaming last night," Lucy informed Desmond the next morning in the kitchen as she prepared coffee.

He looked up from his cereal. "Was I?" he asked casually, then stretched in his chair, ruffling his hair with one hand. "I... had a crazy dream I guess." He'd definitely hesitated.

Lucy turned back to her coffee, slowly stirring in the sugar, then taking her time as she added cream. Breathing in deeply, she gently reminded Desmond without looking at him, "You need to let me know if you see anything you shouldn't be."

"I know, I know." Though she couldn't see him, Desmond sounded annoyed and slightly fed up. Lucy bit her lip; she'd said the wrong thing. This certainly wasn't helping her chances.

Shut up, brain.

The two Assassins were alone in the kitchen. Lucy grabbed her coffee, then turned and said quickly as she was leaving the room, "Just let me know if you need a break."

As she walked down the hall, Desmond called from the kitchen, "But I haven't even started yet."

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That night, the screaming didn't start until later, but Lucy had stayed awake, or at least tried to. Her light on and a book in her lap, she jerked awake at two in the morning as shrieks began echoing the building. This time, she was doing something about it. Something about what had happened over coffee rattled her.

Silently, Lucy switched the lamp off and slipped into the hall, walking lightly until she stood in front of the loudest door. Now that she was closer, she could hear whimpering between the screams, and something that sounded like a voice.

Gently, Lucy turned the doorknob and swung the wooden door inwards a little, sticking her head in. With the moonlight filtering through the window, she could just make out Desmond's tossing form on the bed. The sheets were twisted around his feet from constant kicking.

She had absolutely no idea what to do now that she was here. Her plan had only extended as far as getting into the bedroom. How could she possibly help him?

Still, Lucy stepped into the room and closed the door lightly behind her. Just as she did, Desmond let out a harsh scream, an animal-like sound. Lucy felt the familiar stab of guilt that she always did whenever she saw him like this, whether awake or sleeping. She was doing this to him. She needed to do something.

Hesitantly, Lucy moved to the edge of the bed, then knelt so she was level with Desmond's sleeping face. He'd stopped screaming, but she could make out the look of distress on his face, and he was whimpering. "Please..." he muttered.

"Oh.." Lucy breathed as Desmond twitched and scrabbled at the mattress. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm. The skin was burning hot, though not sweaty. She wasn't really sure what she was doing, she just wanted him to settle.

It seemed to work. Her touch relaxed him, if only for a few seconds. Her hand on his flaming skin, Lucy didn't dare move for fear of waking the other Assassin.

So now she had two choices: sit here all night with her hand on Desmond's arm, or go back to her room to listen to him scream all night. She didn't know what to do.

There was a third option, though Lucy was reluctant to admit it. All she needed to go was - God - get into the bed and make sure she was still touching Desmond. This was the option she liked the most, but if anyone asked she'd deny it. Slowly, Lucy removed her hand to see if that was enough to stop him from screaming. Her hand hovered uncertainly as nothing happened, but then Desmond twitched again and his face creased into that frown. Lucy sighed and decided. First, though, she pulled up the sheets to Desmond's chin, making sure he wouldn't kick them away. He cried out briefly.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy slid herself under the covers and rested her hand on Desmond's arm. Now that she was so close to him - the bed was a twin - she could feel his heat and smell him. God, that sounds creepy, Lucy cursed herself.

Now she was in bed with Desmond, her hand on his arm and he was still fidgeting. Lucy bit her lip at the logic that more of her skin touched him meant less screaming. Slowly, she wiggled closer and rested her head on his upper arm; he lay on his back, arms spread-eagled. What was the worst thing that could happen?

Instead of waking up, Desmond moved onto his side. Lucy lay there stiffly for a couple seconds until his breathing returned to normal, then she turned away from him do they were essentially spooning. And it felt amazing. Desmond's arm wrapped around her; apparently he craved the contact as well. He'd stopped fidgeting, whimpering, or moving altogether, aside from the slow rise and fall of his chest, and his breath in her ear. She hadn't lain with someone like this since... ever. She was sixteen when she started searching for the Pieces of Eden, and she'd never really had a chance to have a boyfriend. Sure, she'd had a few in high school, but did those really count? And as much as she hated to admit it, Lucy was still a virgin. Having sex with someone should've been the last thing on her mind right now, but everyone had urges. Just lying in the same bed as Desmond made her feel like she hadn't in years, ever since her last boyfriend held her in his arms. She loved to be loved, to feel like someone wanted to hold her, to have her close to them. Even her own parents hadn't seen or hugged her in five years. She'd been so alone for so long, it felt so good - so right - to be in Desmond's arms.

The warmth, combined with Desmond's rhythmic breathing, made Lucy feel extremely calm, and soon enough her eyelids began to droop once the adrenaline rush had worn off. She closed her eyes, feeling happier than she had in years.

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Slowly, Desmond opened his eyes and immediately his eyebrows went together in a frown. At first he thought he'd hooked up with some drunk chick who was obviously desperate enough to have sex with the bartender—it happened often enough. But soon he remembered what room he was in, where he was, but the woman in his arms still confused him greatly. Was it... Lucy? She faced away from him; he couldn't tell.

Her blonde hair was out of its bun, and it curtained over her ear and the side of her face, making Desmond unable to see anything besides hair. Hesitantly, he moved his face forward and pressed it into the back of her neck, breathing in deeply. It was definitely Lucy. He'd never forget that scent, a smell he usually associated with the Animus because she was always the one who stood over him when he was put in. It was sweet and musky, and the best thing in the world.

It briefly crossed his mind why Lucy would be in his bed, but he dismissed it. What did it matter, as long as she was here? Ever since arriving at the Assassin Hideout, all Desmond wanted to do was tell Lucy how he felt. But for some reason he hadn't, though he didn't know why. He usually wore his heart on his sleeve, and if he wanted to say something, he'd say it. Lucy was different somehow, special.

Careful not to disturb Lucy, he turned his head so as to look at the clock on his nightstand. 6:23. His alarm would go off in seven minutes. But he didn't want it to. He turned his head back and began to absently stroke Lucy's bare arm. Her skin was so soft.

Lucy stirred, and without fully rolling over, her head turned toward him so their faces were an inch apart. Slowly, her eyes opened, and blue shone in the light from the rising sun.

"Hey," Desmond whispered, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Lucy blinked a couple times, breathing in sleepily, then smiled and responded, "Hey."

"I didn't have any nightmares," Desmond said casually. "We'll have to do this more often."

"I had two options," Lucy defended herself. "Listen to you scream all night, or come in here and stop you."

"Then how come it's you in here, and not Rebecca?" Desmond asked softly. "I'm sure she heard it too."

Lucy's eyes dropped from his face; she was avoiding eye contact. "I think you know why."

A harsh beeping interrupted them; Desmond immediately rolled over and switched off the alarm. "I'm sure Shaun will survive if we sleep in for one day."

Lucy rolled her eyes, back to her normal self. "We really need to get up. Sleeping in is just wasting the day away." There was a sense of urgency in her tone, like saying what he did had distracted her from her thoughts.

"Just close your eyes, you'll be all right," Desmond assured her. "When's the last time you had a day off?"

Though he hadn't expected her to, Lucy gave in. "Okay," she murmured, then wiggled herself closer to his bare chest. Within minutes she was fast asleep again.

And Desmond was content to watch her as she slept, feeling happier than he had since being kidnapped, maybe even before then. He moved a lock of hair out of her face, then lay there, awake like a faithful dog watching over its master, ready to defend her if Shaun demanded they get up.