Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 34 - Claire

September 12th, 2012, 8:00pm

Claire's eyes fluttered open, the pale glow of the room blurring around her. Her head felt heavy, and a dull ache pounded behind her temples—a familiar sensation after spending too long in the Animus. She took a deep, shaky breath, grounding herself in the present, and as the memory of the last moments in Ezio's world settled, she made a decision.

She lifted her hand from the armrest of the Animus chair and slowly detached the interface. The room felt colder than she remembered, a stark contrast to the heat of Venice's sun. She looked over to where Desmond lay in the other chair, still locked in his dreamlike state, reliving Ezio's memories. She knew he needed to stay in there, to see what came next, but for now, she needed a break. Their ancestors had gone their separate ways, and she was glad for the break.

Rebecca looked up from her workstation, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to pause or adjust as needed. "You're back," she said, her voice gentle but alert. "Ezio and Amelia's paths diverged in the memory sequence. I'm giving Desmond a chance to catch up with you, so I'll need to adjust your sessions a bit."

Claire nodded, stretching her arms, her muscles tight from lying in the Animus for so long. "How long will that take?" she asked, her voice still groggy.

Rebecca glanced at her monitor, tapping a few keys with practiced precision. "Depends on how long it takes Desmond to get through the next few memories without too much desynchronization," she said. "But I'd guess we'll have a decent window before you're back in sync. Maybe a few hours?"

Claire exhaled, relieved to have a break. The Animus left her feeling hollow sometimes, as if she was living in a world within a world, and it was only in moments like these that she could shake off that feeling of blurred identities. The lingering remnants of Amelia's emotions and memories clung to her, and she rubbed at her temples, hoping to dull the edges.

Rebecca watched her with a concerned look, her hands still poised over the keyboard. "You should get some rest, Claire. Those memories take a toll on you more than anyone else. Sleep, drink some water—do something other than keeping all of Venice's drama running through your head."

Claire let out a soft laugh, but she nodded, appreciative of Rebecca's gentle insistence. "You don't have to tell me twice. I'll try to actually sleep instead of pacing around this place," she said, pushing herself up from the chair. As she stood, the ache in her muscles deepened, and she stretched, feeling the pull of exhaustion settle over her.

With a yawn, Claire turned toward the plush queen bed in the corner under the window, the only thing Claire considered a luxury in the safehouse, that and the coffee. It was darker outside than when she went in and a light rain kissed the glass.

Claire paused for a moment, gazing out the window as the gentle patter of rain met the glass. The soft rhythm was soothing, a small piece of calm that felt worlds away from the tension and intensity of her memories in the Animus. She allowed herself to take it in, watching the water trace lines down the window, blurring the city lights beyond. It was a small comfort, but she clung to it.

With a quiet sigh, she settled onto the bed, feeling the familiar softness of the blankets as she sank back. Pulling them up, she closed her eyes, letting herself slip into the quiet darkness of the room. Outside, the rain grew a little heavier, and the cool night air drifted in from the crack in the window. She could almost imagine herself in another place, another life—one where the shadows of the past didn't cling to her so tightly, where her thoughts weren't tangled with Amelia's memories and the mission that waited for her.

Her mind drifted back to the last scene she'd witnessed: Ezio walking away, his face carrying the same solemn resolve she'd seen in her own reflection so many times. It lingered with her as she drifted off, that look of resilience mixed with the sadness of separation, of choices made and paths taken.