The rest of his night, as he guessed, was restless and full of his worrying. If they already knew where he lived, them there might be less time than he first thought. He needed to stall them. Or simply rejoin the Assassins entirely. Did he ever want to? No. Not at all. He left so he could have a life of his own, no matter how little of that he'd have. He wanted to save his children from the same fate, so he never planned on telling them anything. He had a hard time explaining to his dear Sofia about who he was. It took almost getting killed for him to realize that he'd better tell her soon before he'd loose the chance entirely.
As early morning light of a pastel sunrise streaked into the room from the window, he was beginning to hear the sounds of small voices and the patter of bare feet acroos the floor in the hallway. Before he knew it, his son had climbed up on top of him and his daughter had rolled into the space between him and his wife!
The sudden movement woke Sofia and she craned her head up form the blankets to look up dazily at the two children who had caused it. Then she laughed, showing her wonderful smile as she rolled onto her back. "When did you two get in here?"
Marcello now was sitting laying right next to him, "It was Flavia's idea!"
His sister, who found herself comfortable drapped over her mother, glared, then giggled. "So? You wanted to!"
He chuckled as the two siblings continued to bicker about who started the idea, then he sat up in the bed. "Maybe I should get up so your mother can get some sleep."
Sofia glanced at him, as if she knew about his little fight last night. But she nodded. "Take them with you, I'm sure the bed will break if they keep jumping."
So he pulled out from under the covers and stood up, Marcello and Flavia followed. He didn't react to the cool surface of the floor, unlike his son who curled his toes in, and he walked downstairs and into the main room. Everything seemed in place, since he made sure that nothing was broken or anything. So Marcello didn't seem to look like he noticed anyting wrong.
Flavia was harder to convince. She looked from Ezio to the window and then at the small stretch of hallway that led to the kitchen when he had fought the intruder. "Father?"
"Hmm?" He put on his usual I-didn't-do-anything-so-don't-assume-that-I-did look and kept walking to the kitchen.
"Who was that man you were with last night?" She asked.
He inwardly cursed. She did remember! He thought fast. "What man? I was sleep last night."
"No, I saw you in here fighting someone!" She claimed.
Now he turned and got down to her level. "Flavia, I promise you, I was asleep last night-" Well it was a half lie. "-and I wasn't fighting anyone. Are you sure what you saw wasn't just your imagination?"
"But I-!" She was about to finish when he shook his head.
"I used to think I saw my father fight mysterious figures in the night as well, darling. But what I saw were dreams. They never happened." He added. "Maybe you are experiencing the same thing." His voice was calm and even, though he still felt sick inside for making all of this up to her.
"I- I guess you might be right. But what about you taking me upstairs and bringing me a glass of water?" She pointed out. "I still have the glass."
He sighed. "You were kicking around and I came in. You told me you were having a nightmare and I brought you some water."
She nodded, seeming to buy his words. It was even more lucky for him that Marcello could probably sleep through an explosion undisturbed. So he was clueless and didn't seem to get envolved with this matter.
He then stood up and started towards the kitchen again. But he decided to lighten the mood. "Besides, do you think an old man like me would be able to fight anyone?"
She laughed. "No, I guess not." But she also didn't know of the lean muscle hidden under his clothes.
As he continued to walk to the kitchen, he made a mental note to keep himself consistant with the story, that way if this were to ever happen again he could say this and not raise too much suspition because he was switching stories. He made that mistake before and that's how Sofia got suspitious before he told the truth about who he was.
When they reached the kitchen, he and his children sat at the table. It was a long few moments before his son asked, "Can we play a game?"
Ezio nodded, deciding it was better than nothing while they waited for Sofia. "Any ideas?"
"Chess? I'm not sure."
That was good enough for him. "Alright. But I'll have you know that I've played chess since I was four."
With that, he returned to the main room and took a seat by the chess board while Marcello scrambled into the other. Flavia sat on the couch and watched. All Ezio was sure of was that this would be one quick game.
Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far! I thought that no one liked the story at first because no one was reviewing it, and then I saw the Traffic stats and I kept writing. So here's another chapter.
