Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 23 - Claire

The next few days passed in a careful rhythm. Claire had made it her mission to keep Desmond eating regularly and, when possible, resting. She had a knack for sensing when his patience was running thin or when the Animus sessions had worn him down too much. If Desmond's resolve wavered or he seemed tempted to throw himself back into the Animus without a break, she was there, unyielding, her own strength grounding him.

Desmond, for his part, settled into a routine with a quiet, almost steely determination. Each meal was a small victory, each extra hour of sleep a step forward, and though he resisted at times, he respected her insistence that he keep himself in fighting shape. As much as he wanted to stay focused on the mission, he couldn't ignore the difference it made. The weight he'd lost began to fill back in, the dark circles under his eyes softened, and his mind felt a little sharper, clearer.

The morning began quietly, the silence punctuated only by the faint rustling of wrappers as Desmond unwrapped another protein bar, taking steady bites. Their breakfast was a far cry from anything hearty, but over the past few days, Claire had been relentless in making sure Desmond didn't skip a meal, carefully monitoring his portions to restore a semblance of strength to his frame. She had an eye for every small change in him—each rested breath, every lessened shadow beneath his eyes.

As Desmond finished, his gaze met hers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was the barest flicker, an expression so subtle it might have gone unnoticed to anyone else, but Claire saw it, recognizing the determined glint in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and understanding in her expression.

"You're going back in, aren't you?" she asked, her tone carrying equal parts resignation and support. She'd known this was coming; Desmond's restlessness had been growing with every day, the weight of what lay within the Animus pulling him like a magnet.

He nodded, exhaling as he stretched his arms over his head, easing the knots that had taken up residence in his shoulders. "Yeah," he replied, the word heavy yet somehow hopeful. "We're close to... something. I can feel it." He paused, the significance of it all simmering in his expression. "There's more to Haytham's story. More about the key." His gaze lingered on her, a silent acknowledgment of the worry he knew she carried. "Besides," he added, his voice softening, "you've done your job. I'm... better."

Claire's gaze softened, her chest tightening at his words. The man who sat before her looked steadier, stronger, the ghost of his exhaustion replaced by a spark of resilience. She reached out, her fingers resting on his arm, a grounding gesture as much for herself as for him. "Just don't push yourself too hard," she murmured, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll be right here. No matter what."

He placed his hand over hers, squeezing lightly in a gesture of gratitude and reassurance, his touch lingering as if to let her know that he felt the strength she offered. Then, with a final nod, he stood, his gaze resolute as he moved toward the Animus and settled into its metallic embrace.

The machine hummed to life, casting a cold, otherworldly light over his face as he closed his eyes, his breathing deep and even. Claire felt a familiar knot in her stomach as she watched him, bracing herself for whatever might lie on the other side of the Animus' screen. She'd stood here countless times, watching as Desmond plunged into the memories of ancestors long gone, every mission carrying its own share of danger. But somehow, this time felt different. It felt final.

She crossed her arms, unable to look away as Desmond's form grew still, his mind lost to the digital landscape of the Animus. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, the small details she'd memorized: the curve of his jaw, the faint scar just below his brow. Each part of him was familiar to her in a way that she hadn't quite let herself admit.