And just like that... what pretense of security she could have found in that embrace was gone. Just like that. He was stepping away from her, talking on and on, saying things that sounded like they were backed up by too many regrets, flowing with “what ifs”. “But we were...” growing up together. Or so Lucy remembered, glimpses of the boy Desmond used to be, glimpses of him and nothing more. It hadn’t lasted long. Things had been so different when they were younger, it was a surprise to hear him bring any of that up, as vague sounding as it were, like he actually might have remembered glimpses of a young blonde haired girl being trained by his father.

That was a part of her life Lucy Stillman tried to block out, pushing it away as if it’d never existed. As if William Miles hadn’t had a hand in shaping her to be who she was today before abandoning her, leaving her vulnerable and open for the Templars to swoop her in to their side of the game. She swallowed and now crossed her arms, mirroring his stance, staying where she was while he was taking down that bridge they’d closed.

Partners? What was he saying? Why was he saying all of this?

“I did trust you, Desmond.” I trusted you despite who your father was. “I trusted you more than the others.” Because, in some fucked up way, it had sometimes felt like they were one in the same.