Protezione

As Leonardo and Ezio strolled the streets, the artist couldn't help but notice his friend's distracted demeanor.

"Are you okay, amico mio?" he asked suddenly. Ezio's eyes jolted upwards and glanced at Leonardo.

"Um, what?" he replied.

"I said, are you okay? You seem distracted," Leo said simply.

"It's nothing, I'm sure." With that, the two kept walking. Leonardo trotted around, looking at a small wooden figure of a person with interest.

"I'll have to return when I've brought money," Leonardo said with a wink to Ezio. The assassin, however, hardly noticed.

In a less crowded part of the market, Ezio suddenly grabbed Leo's wrist protectively.

"Ezio?" the inventor questioned, but was quickly cut off when a two guards stepped out, holding swords.

"Stop, assassino!" one ordered. Ezio slowly moved between the guards and Leonardo.

As a fight quickly emerged between Ezio and the guards, the assassin didn't notice one of the guards slipping around him. Plunging a blade into the first guard's chest, Ezio turned and attacked the other, fiercely in anger that the man was going to attempt to hurt his friend.

Ezio stabbed the man repeatedly in blind rage, not fully realizing what he was even doing.

Leonardo, however, did realize it. He'd seen the assassin kill only once, but it was swift and simple. This time... the look in Ezio's eyes, that pleading anger in them, it was foreign to him. They were not the soft eyes he saw when a codex page was in hand, or the grateful ones Leo received when Ezio returned from a mission and Leonardo put salve on his bruises and wrapped his wounds. No, these eyes were hungry for blood. They did not match the kind Auditore. Not at all.

Ezio finally looked up from where he was, barely seeing Leonardo. Then, he took note of the mortified look in the man's eyes.

Cautiously, Ezio began to get up.

"L-Leonardo? Amico mio... I-"

Leonardo suddenly bolted. He ran faster than ever, faster than he even thought possible for himself. No matter, he just kept running.

"Leonardo!" Ezio called worriedly. The shock of the artist's action made him hesitate before reacting. He started after the man, but his late start put him behind. When did Leonardo get so fast?

For a split second, Ezio caught glimpse of the tail of a red cape as it whipped around the corner. Instinctively, he followed it.

When he pivoted around the corner, though, he saw a commoner wearing a red cape... No Leonardo.

Leonardo didn't know how far or fast he ran. He just kept going. Eventually, he started to slow and saw that the assassin was not following him.

First, Leo was scared. Terrified of what his friend was capable of. What was that in his eyes? It was horrifying that he couldn't even place what it was.

At some point, the roads became familiar and Leonardo somehow located his workshop. Stumbling inside, he looked around for Ezio.

No sign of him.

Not sure if that was good or bad and too tired to know the difference, Leo went to a wooden stool and slumped onto it, sitting lazily.

What was he to do? Go find Ezio? No, no, no. Definitely not. Waiting seemed the most logical answer, as Leonardo's knees still shook from the scene he'd witnessed.

And the blood? Being the vegetarian he was, Leonardo found it even more hideous.

Replaying the scene in his mind did no good, as Leo had to rush for a bucket before the contents of his stomach resurfaced. Holding the bucket miserably, the artist emptied his lunch, and spit a few times to get the acidic taste from his throat.

Rinsing his mouth with water and washing the bucket, the artist then did the only thing his mind allowed him to.

He sat down in the far-most corner of his workshop and hugged himself fearfully. Warm streaks of salty tears fell, and he wasn't even sure why.

Ezio searched the market everywhere, in the smallest and darkest places even. He was now in the bell tower of a church, overlooking the entire area for the red hat and cape that belonged to the genius that he knew so well.

Ashamed, Ezio started thinking to himself.

How disgraceful! Uncle Mario had taught him to treat a dead man with respect, and to never loose his temper. He's broken both of those rules, for sure.

It hit him quickly. The answer, of course! Leonardo would naturally go to his workshop, si? Maybe? It was worth a shot.

Preforming a graceful Leap of Faith, Ezio rolled out of the hay pile and ran for the building that felt like his home.

It took a while to actually make it to Leonardo's workshop, and Ezio stood outside of it for at least an hour, pacing nervously.

What was there to do? Act like nothing happened? Apologize? Just run and never return? None of them seemed like the right option, not yet at least. He had to see Leonardo, see his reaction, first.

Quietly as he could, Ezio opened the door to the messy workshop. At first, he believed it to be empty, until he noticed a dark figure in the corner.

Leonardo...

Wanting to run to him but resisting the urge to, Ezio took a few steps closer.

"L-Leonardo?"

The artist looked up with tear-stained cheeks. They were still flowing slowly down his face, though, and Leonardo huddled away from the assassin fearfully. He looked like an animal in a trap.

A few steps away from his friend, Ezio stopped.

"Leonardo... I... I'm sorry..."

The man didn't reply.

Getting down on his knees, Ezio tried to lock eyes with his companion, but the inventor avoiding his worried stare.

"I didn't mean to loose my temper, Leonardo. I'm sorry..." Ezio saw that Leo still wouldn't look at him. "Please, talk to me, amico. I'm sorry, Leonardo, I'm sorry!"

A quiet hiccup was all Ezio heard.

"What do you want from me, amico? I'm sorry! I didn't try to scare you! I wanted to protect you!"

Those last words drew Leonardo's gaze up from his lap, towards the assassin.

Tears were now brimming at the edge of Ezio's vision, threatening to pour as he talked with desperation in his voice.

"I need you to forgive me, amico! Please! I don't want you to be angry or fearful of me! I'm sorry-!"

The panicked pleas were cut short when Leonardo pulled the assassin in to him, clutching him like he never wanted to let go. At that moment, he didn't.

"Amico, I was not angry," Leonardo said into Ezio's soft hair. "I was confused."

"I'm sorry, amico. I'm sorry," Ezio replied to the artist.

They sat like that for a while. Neither knew how long, and neither cared. Leonardo stroked Ezio's hair or rubbed his back. Ezio calmed down considerably, and finally pulled away and looked at his friend. Leo's hands cupped Ezio's face, stroking his skin.

Now he knew. Leonardo finally placed that look, the one that had frightened him so.

It was nearly the same as the one he saw now.

It was protective.