When they finally stopped, Leonardo dismounted and had to hurry to catch Ezio as he slid sideways off the sadly. The artist grunted and staggered as the assassin moaned quietly.

"Sirs, are you alright?" the stableboy asked, rushing over to help.

"Do you happen to have a stretcher? My friend is terribly hurt and I don't think I can carry him without hurting him more."

"Just a moment," the boy called, before sprinting out and returning a few minutes later with two burly men carrying a well-used stretcher between them. The set it down beside the artist – who was still holding Ezio up from under his arms – and they helped Leonardo lay the assassin on the stretcher.

"Do you have a dottore here?" the artist asked as the men gently picked up the stretcher.

"One of the best," one of the men replied, taking Ezio out and heading into the town. Leonardo followed, jogging to keep up, and they entered a small house smelling of incense, where a young girl with feathers in her hair looked up from her work, mildly irritated by the interruption. This annoyance evaporated a moment later when her eyes alighted on Ezio.

"What happened here?" she asked, rushing over, her light gold hair flowing over her back. Leonardo pursed his lips, unsure of how to answer.

"This man rode in with his injured friend not ten minutes ago," one of the stretcher-carriers answered instead.

"Thank you, the both of you. If you could set him down on that table, I can get to work," she said, going ahead and clearing off the table before grabbing rags and a bucket of warm water.

"Anytime, milady," the other big man replied with a teasing smirk. She rolled her eyes and shooed them out, before turning to Leonardo.

"What really happened?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, as she set to work attempting to take off Ezio's shirt. She glared at the assassin's garbs when she could not figure out where to start.

"Allow me," Leonardo murmured, beginning to work on the hidden clasps and ties, all of whose locations had long been memorized. Finally the artist spoke again, replying to her earlier question. "Torture." The girl's eyebrows rose as she pulled a salve off from where it was heating over the fire.

"For information, or a crime?"

"Is this necessary information?" Leonardo shot back, wary when his friend was so vulnerable.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. However, I do need to know which patients I should keep quiet about then the guards swing around, imposing themselves on our home."

"Both. They have been after my friend for some time." The assassin's upper body was finally revealed, the vests and blouse thrown to the side. Leonardo's brow furrowed in worry at the extent of the wounds, now revealed in proper light.

"Where…where are we?" Ezio rasped, eyes cracking open as cold air gusted over his bare chest. His head was turned to the side as he lay, his bloody hands clenched, his wrists raw.

"We're safe for now, amico mio," the artist replied soothingly, brushing Ezio's bangs away from his face.

"Whose bad side did you two get on?" the young doctor asked wryly, hiding shock. Any other person would have been long dead with such wounds. This man should be dead, if she had learned anything over the years.

"Powerful men," Leonardo replied, refusing to elaborate.

"He…I don't know what I can do for him. I'm amazed that he's still alive…most men would not be."

"He is not most men," the artist replied, gaze softening as it fell on Ezio.

"I'll do what I can."

"That's all I…that we… can ask for. Do you need any help?"

"Just hold the bandages near, and hold him down. This will hurt." Leonardo moved behind the assassin and placed his hands over any unwounded skin on Ezio's shoulders that he could find, gently and firmly holding him in place. The girl pulled out the gauze and handed it to the artist, who obediently placed it near where she would work. She set to cleaning his wounds of all the dried blood that had accumulated and caked, barely responding to Ezio's cries except to lightly soften the pressure she put on them.

Long through the day and into dusk did they work, until the medic-girl had to order the artist to one of her cots, so exhausted and worried sick did he look.

Through the night and into the next morning the candles remained lit, until even they burned out and the crackling fire and coming dawn were the only sources of light. The girl wiped her forehead and sank into a chair, her work finally done. It was up to the wounded man now to finish healing. As her eyes slid shut, she could have sworn she saw the artist get up, but she couldn't be sure what was real and what was not any longer.

In the daylight, as she was cleaning up her now-empty home, the girl found a pouch of gold coins on the foreign man's cot, along with a note to go with it.

Thank you for all your help and perseverance, especially when I could no longer keep my eyes open. My friend will pull through – he always does. I hope the money I left is enough for your services and supplies, as well as a little extra for you. I did not want to wake you to ask.

We sincerely apologize if the guards harass your village about us, but I think your two friends would be more than a match for them.

Sincerely,

A grateful stranger

P.S. My apologies about the lack of names, it would be safer for everyone if you did not know us.

dottore - doctor

amico mio - my friend

A/N: And there you have it~! Shortest chapter, but it takes up the most space, lawl. Dialogue mostly |D;; So yeah, we'll see. I'm not positive if I'm going to post up "A Dousing in Blood" or "Letters To and From an Assassin" (unless I get a bunch of people asking for them) so until I finish "Up In Flames" (title still under work), I probably won't post up another story unless I decide to put up "Traitor" or "Enemy of an Assassin" (both found on my dA |D;). Soo yeah.

Reviews are always appreciated~!