Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 16 - Claire

Claire blinked awake, the faint light of dawn filtering through the small window beside her bed. She lay still for a moment, listening as the distant rumble of an engine grew closer, breaking the early morning silence. Her senses sharpened instantly, the sleep haze dissipating as she registered the sound—it was unmistakably a vehicle pulling up to the cottage.

She rose quickly, slipping on her jacket and tightening her ponytail with practiced precision. The others had been on edge through the night, the anxiety of their situation thick in the air, and the sound of any approaching vehicle was enough to send her pulse racing. But then she remembered—Paul. He was supposed to have returned hours ago.

Claire moved to the window, peering through a small gap in the blinds. A familiar, weather-worn truck sat idling just beyond the tree line, the dawn light casting long shadows across its battered hood. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease a fraction as Paul stepped out, hefting a few large bags over his shoulder as he approached.

Aiden appeared in the hallway behind her, yawning but alert, his gaze following hers out the window. "Looks like the wanderer returns," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just in time for breakfast," Claire replied, though her relief was tempered by curiosity—where exactly had Paul been all night?

She opened the front door as Paul reached the steps, his face looking more haggard than usual but marked by a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Didn't think you'd be gone that long," she said, crossing her arms and trying to keep her tone casual. "Find what you were looking for?"

Paul grinned, holding up one of the bags. "Let's just say I didn't come back empty-handed." He motioned toward the truck's bed, where a sizable cooler sat among other supplies, packed with ice to keep the TPN fresh for the coming days. "Had to make a few stops along the way. Thought I'd restock us properly while I was at it."

Behind her, the others had gathered, each casting Paul a curious, expectant look. William gave him a nod, his usual stoicism softened by a flicker of relief. "Good work, Paul. Let's get everything inside before anyone notices we've been here."

They set to work, each of them carrying supplies into the cottage, filling the cramped kitchen with bags of food, fresh water, and a few basic medical supplies. Aiden helped Claire bring the cooler closer to Desmond where she started to gently fill it with TPN. The sight of the TPN nestled in the cooler was a welcome relief, a small assurance that their efforts to keep Desmond stable hadn't been in vain.

Ten days passed in a tense blur. The safe house had settled into a strict routine, with each of them rotating shifts to monitor Desmond, while Claire and Rebecca meticulously tracked the dwindling supply of TPN. The quiet whirr of the machines had become a steady background hum, each beep and click a reminder of the stakes surrounding them. As the two-day mark crept closer, the weight of the situation hung heavier over them. The TPN supply was nearly exhausted, and another hospital run was unavoidable. But it was dangerous to risk so many excursions—every trip exposed them to being tracked, increasing the risk of discovery. Each passing hour heightened the urgency, the quiet tension palpable in every corner of the safe house.

In the late hours of a chilly, quiet night, Claire dozed fitfully beside Desmond and the Animus. She'd been keeping her usual night shift, watching his pale face and measuring his shallow breaths. Her head nodded lower as she gave into exhaustion, until a soft chime from the Animus jolted her awake. She sat up, disoriented for a brief moment, before her eyes fell on the Animus screen, which glowed faintly in the dim room. Rubbing her eyes, she leaned in, her heartbeat quickening as an image appeared on the screen.

First, a set of coordinates flashed across—43 39 19 N 75 27 42 W—the numbers imprinted in her mind almost instantly. She didn't need to open a map to recognize their significance; they pinpointed a location in New York State, somewhere remote and hidden. Her stomach twisted as she imagined the Grand Temple, the place that had existed only in stories and fragmented memories, waiting somewhere within those coordinates. But then the screen shifted, and a face emerged from the dark backdrop—a face she thought she knew.