Before you read this, just a note. I intended to write a Humor and Romance ShaunxDesmond fic, but my typing fingers said otherwise. So here you go, a ShaunxDesmond fic that's Angst and Hurt/Comfort. I'm a bit surprised myself about how dark his is.
Shaun looked up at the sky, pushing his glasses back onto his face. It wasn't meant to be this way, not supposed to be like this. Leaning over, he placed a flower onto the ground, standing up straight to look back into the clouds. It was all over. They were gone.
It had started subtly enough for Desmond. Forgetting who they were, or mistaking them for other people - calling them Malik and Leonardo and Maria – but it gradually got worse. He started to become paranoid, completely taken over by this ancestors, taking comfort from the person who he assumed to be his lover. They had to take all his weapons off him before he started to attack them. It broke all their hearts to watch him scream and cry, cuddling up to Shaun like a baby. Then that day came.
Before they could stop him, Desmond had fled from them, running quicker than anyone else could. He had run into a Templar scout and tried to stab him – with his imaginary hidden blade. He thrust his hand into his stomach, cursing in Italian when the man wouldn't bleed. After a while, said Templar retaliated. He pulled his gun up and shot him in the forehead, throwing his body into the streets.
They found him later, bleeding and dying. The worst thing was that he was Desmond when he was leaving this world. He was fully conscious, and knew the people around him. He spoke his last words, and closed his eyes.
Lucy and Rebecca followed next. Shaun had left the hideout to get supplies – food, water, tea – when he returned he saw a van leaving the back of the warehouse. He ran inside and smashed the door down. There he saw Lucy stabbed in the stomach, and Rebecca in the chest. It was too much to take. In nearly a week his whole team had gone, his whole family.
They had to be buried, he couldn't leave them there. He had buried Desmond in the graveyard of a small church west of Monteriggoni. Lucy had followed on the left, Rebecca on the right. The Assassin Order assigned him to a new squad in France, keeping information on the leader. Had he been with the others, he would have turned into focused Shaun and dragged them to all the historical landmarks, giving a history lesson in the process. But they had gone, and Shaun had retreated into a mental fortress of solitude. The things he had said to all of them running through his head.
Don't worry Lucy, I'll get milk. Get your bloody arse out of that chair and make your own goddamn coffee. Please don't leave me, Desmond. Rebecca, the grown ups are talking. That...was a misquote. Quiet everyone, Borgias. I love you. At least fight me, you prick. That's right, just smile and nod. And this is the infamous subject 17. Something's not right Lucy. Quick, he's making a run for it. Rebecca, I found your Ipod. I made tea, everyone...
Turning away from their graves, he sighed, wiping the tear away from his cheek. It had been years now, but it still hurt. His friends, his family, his boyfriend had all been taken away from him within a week, and left him behind. If only he had told Desmond how he felt earlier, then they could have spent more time together. If only he had been nicer, if only he had shown that he cared more. If only...
He sat down on the wall and slammed his head into his hands, letting the tears flow. Footsteps, then a click. Looking up, he saw a gun pointed to his face, and a masked man behind him. He blinked, then sat up straight, looking the gunman in the eye. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, letting the words tumble past his lips.
"Go ahead, I'm not afraid to die." Waiting for the sound of the gun firing, and the smell of gunpowder, the feel of the bullet forcing itself past his skin was agony. When he next opened his eyes, he saw then gunman turn, and begin to walk away. Shaun leapt off the wall, and chased the man, grabbing his gun and aiming it at the man's skull.
"Why leave me alive? Why not just kill me and be done with it? I've exposed the world to your threats, and you let me live? What sort of person are you?" He cocked the gun, trying to keep his shaking hands steady. A hearty laugh echoed through the air, followed by some illogical Italian. The historian paused for a second, turning his head to the side. This gave the Templar enough time to have the gun pulled from his quivering grasp, and turned to face him. The British man smirked, before saying the only piece of Italian he knew.
"Fottotoli (Go Fuck Yourself). " He had enough time to look the other man in the eyes before the trigger was pulled, and the lifeless body of Shaun Hastings hit the snow covered floor.