#animus legit sucks the life out of poor Desmond

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May I request a blurb of Desmond’s teammates insisting he has a rest for once? (Pre or post Lucy whichever)

Of course! Hope I do it justice.

Desmond was exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

He had just experienced everything Ezio felt when he lost Cristina and the overwhelming pain and guilt and anger coursing through him was too much. Everything hurt. His head, his heart, his eyes from the forceful tears shed by the sole Auditore man, his muscles. Everything.

He knew what he had to do. The recovery of his ancestor's memories was important, and it needed to be done. But that didn't mean that it wasn't hard to go through.

Experiencing Ratonhnhaké:ton's pain when he had to watch his mother die and then watch his village get destroyed. Then having to fight his own father who refused to seek peace between the Brotherhood and the Order. Altaïr's anguish when he lost his youngest son Sef and then his wife Maria. It only went further when Altaïr was consumed by guilt for not being able to save his love, and then again when his daughter in law and granddaughters left for Egypt.

Desmond's head and heart began to hurt again just thinking about everything his ancestors had suffered through. They may have had the lives of Assassin's...but it didn't mean that they deserved to suffer.

He could hear two people in the kitchen. Rebecca and Shaun by the voices and the fact that they were the only other two people in the place. They seemed to be arguing, but Desmond's head hurt too much to try and focus on what it was they were saying.

Rebecca pointed at him her eyes narrowed. "I swear to the Isu's if you say one mean or snarky thing to him, I will slap the British out of you."

Shaun quaffed and rolled his eyes. "Am I really that bad to him?"

She looked at him pointedly without saying a word and Shaun sighed relenting. "Alright. I'll be as nice as I can.

"And don't tell him to rest up for the purpose of getting him fit to get back in the Animus. Actually, try to get him to rest. You keep pushing him the way you do, and he'll actually die, instead of just dying on the inside by being emotionally and psychologically traumatized."

The man in glasses watched as Rebecca grabbed the mug of tea she had just made for Desmond.

"Take this to him." She handed the mug off to him carefully. "Without snark."

He spoke sarcastically. "Yes mum."

Rebecca swatted at him aiming to smack his head, and Shaun barely dodged, hissing when a drop of hot water splashed on his hand.

Desmond was hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. His hair was disheveled, and his skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. He had bags under his eyes and dried rings of blood around his nose, from hastily wiped away nosebleeds. It seemed as though he could barely hold himself up, and if he attempted to stand, he would fall over without assistance.

Shaun could see that the man was clearly bone tired from his interactions in the Animus.

He was going to try and be nice. He really was. Lest he be smacked by Rebecca and continue to be a complete arse to the guy who was literally the only reason why they could continue their research.

Shaun's voice was gentle. It didn't sound like him, but he was trying. Far too gentle for the snappy and grouchy man Desmond had gotten to know. "Desmond?"

Desmond looked up slowly squinting as the light hit his sensitive eyes and he was met by the scent of ginger and the sight of a coffee cup.

It was Shaun offering him a cup of tea. He reached up hesitantly wincing as his muscles protested against the action and inhaled the scent. It smelled good. Certainly, better than gunpowder, stale blood, and dirt.

The assassin didn't want to assume anything, but he thought for a moment that the British man had a look of concern on his face. He was probably seeing things. Which wouldn't be a surprise in the least.

He spoke again, once more sounding strange compared to how he normally did. "You need to rest for a while. Recover for the sake of yourself. You've been going too long without proper rest."

Desmond wanted to rebuff his statement and say that he just needed a moment before continuing. But he realized that he did need to rest. He felt like death warmed over itself and something within him told him that if he didn't...he would thoroughly regret it.

Rebecca stood a bit of a ways behind him with her arms crossed observing the both of them. "You need to Des. Seriously. We're not going anywhere. We'll be right here if you need anything."

Shaun nodded in agreement. "It's time to rest mate."