A/N: So... hi. I don't know if anyone cares about this story anymore, but what the fuck, I'll post this chapter and see what the reception is. This is googleit6, by the way, and I wrote this whole chapter. I should probably mention right now that brilliantmemories is done with the story. She was kind enough, however, to give me the password to her account so I could continue to upload at my leisure. She's not sure where she stands with the AssCreed fandom right now, so yeah, I'm on my own. I really, really, love this story, however, and would really like to continue it, because it was the one thing that I've always loved to write, no matter what. I thought the two of us came up with a fantastic idea, and I'd like to see it through to the end. If you don't like the idea of it just being me writing it, though, then feel free to ignore it forever from now on.

I can't really explain why I took this long to post this. I had most of it written already, and finished a little bit of it tonight, but whatever, the point is, we've got it here, now, right? So, I hope you enjoy this now solo endeavor!

"Okay, so, our plan."

Ezio was looking at Shaun, waiting for the exasperated historian to grace him with a brilliant plan that was crafted by the exceptionally logical and calculating mind that was Shaun Hastings.

"Keep your mouth shut, and don't knock anything over."

Ezio barley stifled the snort that crept up his throat, making his cheeks puff out like a disgruntled bullfrog.

Shaun narrowed his eyes. "Well, excuse me. Why don't you come up with some genius plan, Sherlock?"

Ezio replied with a blank stare that Shaun felt like he was going to be getting a lot of- in fact, he might actually get it more often from Ezio than Desmond, which was almost a shock, but then Shaun realized that he was talking about the great-great something of Desmond, so maybe it wasn't that surprising. Maybe the "blank" gene had skipped a few generations after Ezio, and was now hitting Desmond full force.

"Who is Sherlock?"

"…Right. After your time…" Shaun sighed. "Nevermind. Look, just… Can you try and lose the accent? If we run into someone -by the way, everyone in this building is a friend. None of that Batman shit you pulled earlier. My neck still hurts- you… cannot talk to them in Italian, or with your accent, or be charming or anything."

Ezio looked extremely put out, and his hand hovered threateningly close to a spare piece of wood leaning against the railing.

"Whoa, slick. Hold on there. You can't be like that because… Well… Shit…" As Shaun was trying to explain this predicament, he realized how insane it really was. He was talking to Ezio, a man from the Italian Renaissance. Not exactly an everyday occurrence, even in Shaun's bizarre life.

"Why can't I?" Ezio raised an eyebrow, looking impatient.

Shaun grimaced.

"…Because… Well, to be frank, Ezio, you are in the year 2012." Shaun stopped to let that sink in, watching Ezio's hand carefully for any sign of brutal violence that might come by way of wood chip.

Ezio frowned, looking like a school boy who had just been asked a particularly difficult math question.

"That's… impossible." Ezio mumbled, his eyes wide and calculating, taking in the enormous warehouse he stood in. Shaun followed his gaze. Obviously, warehouses weren't a common thing in Renaissance Italy.

"Apparently it isn't." Shaun replied lightly, trying not to think of all the implications behind this phenomenon. He was beyond tired, and was already wishing that he had saved this conversation for another time. Although, as soon as Ezio almost became intimately aquatinted with a car's bumper, he figured that time had been running out in which he didn't have to think outside of the box.

For this occurrence, Shaun would have to extrapolate so far that he would most likely spear a sheep in New Zealand, and come to about the same conclusion. He had no idea how the hell this happened, and had even less of an idea how to explain it to Ezio.

"Let me try putting this in perspective… as skewed as it may be," Shaun felt himself stuttering and having trouble forming the words, which was something that never happened to him. He always had an explanation, always knew what he was talking about. Even the Pieces of Eden were believable. This, though. This was truly uncharted territory.

"You know of Altaïr, right?"

Ezio nodded.

"You know he was born in 1191?"

Nod.

"And you were born in 1459?"

Nod.

"Now that's a gap of… 268 years."

Nod.

"And between 2012 and 1459 is a gap of… 553 years…"

Nod- grimace.

Ezio was extremely still.

Shaun was biting the inside of his cheek, debating whether to drop another bombshell on the poor guy.

Ezio raised his eyes to Shaun's. They turned from confusion to suspicion as the two men's glances met.

"What else do you know?" Ezio asked slowly, looking like he was bracing himself for news worse than he was suddenly 553 years overdue for a splatter death from falling ten stories off St. Paul's Cathedral- the normal death of someone who leapt across buildings as his day job.

Shaun sighed.

"It's about Altaïr."

Ezio raised an eyebrow, and Shaun was sure, with just a quick adjustment of the mouth, that was the expression that had bedded more women than Shaun had ever even met.

Whoa, boy. That's Desmond's face, remember? … But they do look alike. Guess the good looks started way back with Altaïr, hmm? It's obviously a strong gene pool.

Shaun shook that thought- and all related images- out of his head. He needed a brain the size of Mars to deal with this, and having it cluttered up with… graphic images didn't exactly aid his concentration. Add that to the fact that he was dog tired, and his bed was starting to look like the better idea, no matter how threatening Ezio's hands may be.

The hands that had grabbed Shaun's not too long ago, stopping him mid punch, causing the heat from his face to melt any nearby glaciers. The hands that- "SHUT UP!"

Shaun put his hands to his temples, trying to push unsavoury thoughts aside. What was going on? Why was he dwelling on things like hands, when he had a body snatching time traveller right in front of him?

… A body snatching time traveller with a nice smile… and nice hands.

Shaun took a deep breath, and then suddenly remembered that he wasn't alone. Face redder than a sunburned tomato, he looked up.

Ezio was staring at him, hand at his hip where his sword was supposed to be.

"Look, Ezio…" Shaun was pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not exactly thinking straight right now." Damn right you aren't. Now look at those- NO!

"We need to sleep." Together. "Aren't you tired?" I'll make you tired.

"I need answers, though!" Ezio exclaimed, his voice echoing around the warehouse.

"Shhhhh!" Shaun jumped forward, putting his hand over Ezio's mouth. "Shut up!"

For a few tense seconds, Shaun stood with Ezio's head stuck between his chest and his other hand. Not the worst position you could be in.

"Okay," Shaun whispered as he let go -reluctantly- of Ezio. "We've got to be quiet or else we'll wake up-"

"Shaun? Is that you?" Lucy called from the top of the staircase, squinting over the banister, trying to make out the blurry ink blots in the darkness below.

At her voice, Ezio looked up, and took in her form in all its illuminated-by-the-hall-light glory, and smiled the smile of a hunter who had a doe set in his iron sight.

Ezio's ability to forget the fact that he was suddenly more than 500 years past his prime in the presence of an attractive woman didn't fail to astound Shaun. At Lucy's call, Ezio looked about ready to rescue the damsel in distress. The fact that there was no distress and Lucy was no damsel failed to register with Ezio, and he was about to bound up the stairs when Shaun grabbed the back of his hoodie, yanking him back with a strangled cough.

"Okay, before you snap my neck, just hear me out. That girl up there is Lucy. Under no circumstances are you allowed to use your Italian charms on her, got it? She thinks you're Desmond, the thick twit who can hardly keep up with day to day conversation. You. Need. To. Listen. To. Me. Please, don't fuck this up."

Shaun was in no mood to threaten. Begging seemed to strike a chord in Ezio, though, who, for once, was probably not the most dangerous thing in the building. Shaun thought of their arsenal of modern day guns, and realized how true that was. He could be as skilled as he wanted, but he couldn't outrun a bullet, no matter how protective Altaïr's armour was.

Talking with his eyes, Shaun told Ezio to keep his mouth shut.

"We're here, Lucy! We just need to go over a few things- we'll be right up!"

Shaun heard Lucy do a double take.

"You're going to willingly spend more time with Desmond?"

Shaun mentally kicked himself in the ass and made a note to be nicer to Desmond in the future- if Desmond ever came back, that was.

"Uh, yeah. Look, we'll be up in a minute, okay?"

Lucy either didn't notice the slight panic underlining Shaun's frustrated tone, or didn't care, because he could hear her walking back to the room without another word.

Ezio looked after her with an awestruck grin on his face.

"She is lovely."

Shaun rolled his eyes and completely ignored the slight twinge of something he refused to call jealousy in his stomach.

"Look, Ezio." He stared into Ezio's dark eyes, and put his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to focus. Shaun pinched the bridge of his nose, smudging his glasses in the process. "This is… this is an extremely odd situation. I'm not sure what to do, or how to act, or what to tell you."

Ezio stared at him, silent.

Shaun grimaced. He really couldn't put off telling Ezio any longer. It needed to be said.

"Ezio- you're dead."

Ezio didn't say anything.

Shaun continued, starting to babble, "I mean, technically, you're dead. Obviously you aren't really dead, because you're here, talking to me. But if we went looking for your tombstone, and, well, you know, looked, you'd be six feet under."

Ezio sat on a nearby box, his head in his hands.

"But- Jesus, this is amazing! You're like a living, breathing textbook! You could tell us so much! What happened to the Apple? To the Templars? You could give us real first person account! My god, the Templars won't know what hit them!" Shaun ran his hands through his hair frantically; his eyes were alight with the fire that made him pursue such a dangerous career in the first place.

"This could be the breakthrough we've been looking for! We could have the Templars by the balls with this information! Ezio, you could save the fucking world! This… this… this… this is amazing. This is life-changing stuff right here. I can't even imagine- you're from the fifteenth bloody century!-"

The possibility of sleep entirely forgotten in his sudden excitement, Shaun glanced down at Ezio, who hadn't moved. His head was still in his hands. He looked up, and to Shaun's horror, saw tears clinging to Ezio's eyelashes.

"I'm dead?" Ezio asked in small voice.

Shaun stared at Ezio, suddenly realizing what kind of situation he was in- Ezio needed to be comforted. Shaun was going to have to reassure him and make him feel better. Shaun was terrible at comforting people. When his baby cousin's goldfish, Goldy, had died, the best aid Shaun could muster up was, "Well… now at least the cat will have a snack."

It hadn't gone over well.

Although… Shaun had a sudden vision of hugging Ezio, rubbing his back consolingly, holding his- whoa there, cowboy.

Shaun was awful at making people feel better. What the hell could he even say to him? Sorry you're dead?

But you wouldn't have to say anything, Shaun, you know that. A little pat here, a little caress there, simple as th- Jesus fucking Christ, get a hold of yourself.

Shaun was brought back to reality by a crash from upstairs, followed by a loud, "GOD DAMN IT ALL!". He assumed the Animus 2.0 had fizzled out again.

He looked down at Ezio, who hadn't even stirred at the sound.

"Look, Ezio, mate, don't worry about it. I'll figure out what's going on, okay?"

Trying his best to make it seem like a completely natural movement, Shaun sat down next to his assassin friend, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Ezio turned to look at him, the tears suddenly gone from his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing, Shaun?"

"… Desmond?"

So... Was it okay for my first solo? Would you like me to continue it by myself or should I just stop it now?