Pure crack!

To say he was unnerved was quite an understatement. Even now, now that the enemies are dead, that the Templars have been, well, slaughtered, it's still there, and his fingers are twitching as he pants. There's blood all over his fingers, staining his hoodie—even staining his chin—and he's standing there. The bodies are littered around them, more specifically, around himself because he happened to be the idiot who got shot in the leg.

Oh, and that's when the real terror sunk in.

Because instead of thinking, "Oh, crap, I'm going to be captured and tortured," all he could think was, "Oh, crap, I never got to say farewell to my mother." Which, to him, was a lot worse than be tortured. He happened to have a close relationship with his mother. And he wasn't ever going to get to see her again.

And then that happened.

He had fallen, and Desmond had turned around. He saw him struggling to get back up, and he supposed that something inside the boy just snapped. He watched as the man charged into the line of fire, somehow evading all the bullets, and sticking that blade into the first man's throat.

And then the smile appeared.

And now he was stuck staring at the man, who had blood everywhere, and all the bodies of his enemies seemed to be draining toward him, even though he was stuck where he was because of his injured leg. He swallowed, watching Desmond heave for breathe, the manic glow in eyes. It was the same glow he had seen in some of the paintings by Gericault. It was the true epitome of madness, and now Shaun was staring it straight in the eye. Those golden irises seemed to be alive all on their own, an entity unto themselves. He thought briefly, momentarily, that he was going to die looking at the murderer in front of him. That wasn't the sort of look a protector gets when he takes care of his charges, but the look of someone who wished that there were more people because he liked the idea of killing.

And then he looked at the smile.

He couldn't even feel the pain in his leg as he stared, watching, hoping not to die, and froze when those eyes turned onto him completely. And his blood ran cold as he watched those lips move with every breath, never wavering. He watched Desmond's tongue pass over his bottom lip before flicking down to taste the blood on his chin, and Shaun was just about ready to piss his pants.

"You know, Desmond," he heard himself saying before he could catch himself, "you might not want to lick that blood off you, lest you catch AIDS. You've already caught stupid. You should be careful now."

Desmond blinked, and Shaun briefly wished his mouth had a turn-off switch, but then the man started laughing, a fully-belly laugh, and he heard himself exhale as that grin vanished into something more familiar. The man started walking over, shaking his head.

"You are such a dick, Shaun. Maybe I shouldn't have saved you."

"Of course you should have," he said as he was helped up. "Who else would keep you from making stupid mistakes like licking potentially AIDS-infected blood?"

Desmond laughed again. "Yeah, 'cause, you know, that's the worst of my problems right now. AIDS."

Shaun nodded as he was half-carried over to Lucy and Rebecca, who were still amazed.

"Indeed, Desmond. You should take more care to avoid such things. The last thing we need is to find you contracted AIDS."

He could feel the pain in his leg returning, but at least that damn smile was gone.

"And you've already contracted the crazy and the stupid, so I wouldn't suggest trying anything else."

"Huh? The crazy?"

"That smile you had. Looks like you're bleeding Altair or something. No more of that, you understand?"

He was proud of himself for keeping up his frown despite the quickly returning pain as he met Desmond's gaze. The man blinked.

"Seriously? I was smiling like that?"

Shaun hoped he looked flat-out unamused. "No, I was just saying that for my own benefit, really."

"All right. Fine. I believe you. God, you're a horrible person."

Shaun snorted as he was lifted into the truck, and Rebecca took the wheel as Lucy took care of the injury.

"No madman here," Shaun said, even though his teeth were clenched from pain. "No crazy axe-murderers, either."

Desmond just laughed.