Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N: I'm so sorry! I was busy and put this off! It's short, but it's something, right?

Oh, my, goodness! The snow! Honestly, thank the snow for this chapter because if I wasn't literally trapped in my house by the snow, I probably wouldn't have gotten around to this!

Also - to clarify: This is not the last chapter. There will be a few more before the end, don't worry.

Once again, sorry and please enjoy!

A Bunch of Hot Air

By: Ginny

He didn't return for another three hours.

In his absence, Margherita had remained crumpled on the floor beside the couch before rising and pacing the entire length of the house six times over, each round peeking out of the door. She couldn't stop the tears the entire time. Finally, after the second hour passed without his return, she stopped and made herself some tea. It burned her throat.

Situated in the kitchen, she was idly tracing her palm in contemplation when he walked in. Ezio did not talk to her. Ezio did not look at her.

He gracefully made his way into the living room and sat on the couch. From that angle, Margherita could see nothing but the back of his head, and his shoulders – tense and taunt. She almost stood up to go to him, when his voice resonated across the room – not loudly, but with authority only a man as powerful as Ezio could have learned to project.

"I have spent so long trying to find reason in it all," he began. "I have seen the good I have done – I have seen the innocent lives saved, the guilty lives taken. And I wonder: is it because of me? Am I the common factor in it all, or would it have happened regardless? If they were still here, if they hadn't died, I often wonder what my life would have been like and what the lives of the people I've saved would have been like. Would they still have been saved if I hadn't accepted my robe? Would they be dead? Or living in misery? Would my father or Federico been able to save them, had they not been killed and therefore allowed to take their rightful place?

"And if neither my father nor Federico could have done what I have done, I wonder whether the world is better off with me alive and an assassin and them dead. I wonder if it's my destiny," he spit the word. "And if it's my destiny to be an assassin and kill all these men… then doesn't that mean it was my family's destiny to die? I can't accept that. People look for reasons for everything – they turn to God in hopes that their misery was not in vain, but to say that my family was meant to die so that others could be saved…"

Ezio trailed off and hunched his shoulders. "It's selfish," he whispered. "It's selfish of me… but, I imagine my life would have been so much happier. I would have lived in ignorant bliss… probably would have been a banker… probably would have married Cristina… probably would have had children by now, too. The Auditore family would still have much power in Firenze. I would be happy and carefree. I wonder often whether I would trade my life now for the life I could have had…

"But I know too much now. I have seen the evils of the world. Maybe once I could have walked away from my duties and returned to that life… but I have seen too much… I'm needed. And if I'm needed, maybe… maybe… they needed to… die, too."

He didn't continue for a good long while. The two sat in silence. Finally, Margherita assumed he had finished and so she stood. The scraping of the chair against the ground seemed to jolt him out of his trance. He sighed loudly and said, "You… you tried to help. I know that. I suppose my mother was suppose to…" he trailed off.

Margherita nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see her. She didn't really trust her voice but let out a short whisper of, "Yes."

Finally, Ezio stood. It was a sharp, quick rising and the tension in his body was still evident. With deliberateness, he turned to look at her. "That does not make what you did okay, Margherita," he stated plainly.

She winced and nodded frantically. Then she asked, sheepishly, "But you understand… right?"

"I'm trying to."

Another nod was her response, before, "Are you angry?"

"Yes. You were a coward."

Margherita should have been angry, but she couldn't even bring herself to open her mouth and try to justify her actions. She had spent most of that last decade trying to justify her inaction and knew there was no excuse. It hurt, regardless.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

"Give me some time."

Margherita gave him a week.

She hesitated in the front of the door, before gulping one last breath and turning the key in the look. When she entered the main room, Ezio was seated on the couch, bent over papers written in his own script. He glanced up at her and beckoned her forward. Grateful, Margherita closed the distance and sat next to him, observing the papers.

He stunk. But Margherita wasn't too surprised – he was still wearing his work shirt and he had sweat stains under the armpit, down his front and all on his back.

The assassin had sketched the Apple (not with the same accuracy that Leonardo could have given it) and apparently taken some notes. And if the books spread out around him were any indication, he had been trying to learn some history – or some of the future events that would transpire.

"Can you read any of it?" she asked, gesturing to the pile in front of him. He glanced up and commented,

"No, but there are pictures – maps in there that I can understand," he reached across the table and picked up an atlas. Thrusting it at her, he asked, "Is this really what the world looks like?" Margherita slid her fingers over the map of Earth.

Nodding she asked, "What is all this for?"

"I'm trying to locate the Apple."

Briefly, Margherita recalled Desmond and the fact that he was technically their contemporary… but she didn't know the basis of the realm-hopping. Did Desmond exist here as a person, or as a videogame character? Since the game was on the market, Margherita doubted the man also existed but she mentioned him anyway.

"The videogame starts with your descent," she explained. "During this time a man named Desmond is kidnapped by Templars and they use technology to try to find the Apple by exploring his lives of his ancestors… like… like watching the TV. In the game it's like the player is playing Desmond, who is following you… or Altair – your ancestor… the creator of the Codex pages. The Templars are trying to figure out where the Apple is… but I don't think he exists here."

Ezio nodded his understanding. "No," he began. "I suppose you're right… but, where is the Apple left when the game ends? I don't think it would still be at Leonardo's workshop, but if it is, I must figure out how to get back to Italy."

"I don't know where the Apple goes after the end of the game – I would assume back to the Auditore Villa."

"So, we still must cross the ocean… How long will that take?"

"Probably eight, nine hours."

"Eight or nine hours?"

"Yes, Ezio. Those things I mentioned before – that fly in the air, they can transport people from here to Europe very quickly. Of course, you need documentation and that might be difficult…"

"I could figure it out," he huffed.

"Ha, I don't think there are any pretty ladies you can seduce to get yourself across the ocean."

When he turned to smile down at her, she felt her heart soar. That past week she had been unable to sleep properly – constantly wondering if when she finally came back he would be gone. It was a relief to see he wasn't holding her cowardice against her.

Ezio turned back to his work for a moment before he bit his pencil and glanced at Margherita. "How does it end?"

It was the least she could give him, right? Taking a deep breath Margherita opened her mouth, trying to remember the ending – the emotional climax where Ezio let Borgia go… and then she shut it with a click of her teeth.

"I… I can't," she tried to articulate.

A dark look passed over Ezio's face. "Margherita, we've been through this. You have the chance to change the past – or at least, that realm- for the better. You shouldn't hesitate."

Margherita shook her head. "No… I think… no, nothing happens. Nothing bad happens. Ezio, trust me, there is nothing to prevent."

He maintained eye-contact with her for one long second before his face cleared and he nodded. "I'm taking your word for it."

Returning to his work, he made a few more scribbles before he gave a loud sigh and put the pencil down. "This isn't working. But I can't just sit around and do nothing."

"Then let's go somewhere," Margherita offered. She pulled her cellphone out of her purse. "I'll call my mom, tell her I'm spending the night at Jen's and we can go somewhere, spend some time having fun. Where do you want to go?"

Ezio remained quiet for a while and Margherita was almost afraid that he would reject the idea because he was still mad at her and was only bearing her presence for the sake of peace. Finally, he glanced up. "There are these things I've seen on TV sometimes… they are brown and in a cup and a mouth speaks about them…"

"A mouth?" Margherita questioned, absolutely lost.

"Yes, it is a giant mouth."

All she could do was nod slowly, as though appeasing a child. When he realized she still didn't understand and was attempting to humor him, he continued, "They are edible I think and the mouth says, "Day Cu"."

"Day Cu?"

"Yes."

Margherita rolled it over in her mind… "Day Cu…"

"D.Q.!" she exclaimed. "Dairy Queen! The ice cream! You want ice cream?" she asked.

"If that's what they are, than yes."

Margherita noted that Ezio had become quite used to the car by now. He lounged idly next to her and silently observed the buildings and people they passed. When they reached the middle of town, Ezio pointed out a girl in short-shorts and tank top.

"Are those her undergarments?" he asked.

The blonde almost laughed. "No, no they are not, Ezio."

"If Claudia ever dressed like that, I would lock her in the Villa." The assassin shook his head, "This time period is so loose, so liberal. Not," he gave her a predatory grin, "that I mind." Suddenly his expression dropped into bemusement and he leaned closer to Margherita.

Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to figure out what he was staring at and still focus on the road at the same time. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You have paint on your face," he observed.

"It's make-up," she defended. "And I wore make-up in the past, too."

Ezio leaned back again, "But you're wearing a lot more now." He sighed and glazed out the window again.

When they reached her house, Margherita made Ezio slip into the back of the car so she could run in and tell her mom the lie she had already practiced. She also needed to pick up some pajamas so it looked like she was really spending the night at Jen's. Hopefully (assuming their relationship had finally mended) she would have no need for clothes back at the vacation home.

No one was there, apparently. So, Margherita left her mom a text message and skipped back to the car. Hopping into the drivers seat, she glanced in back and found the assassin perplexed.

Ezio had decided to kill his boredom by sifting through her purse. He had already pulled out a box and was holding one of its many contents up to the light. When he noticed she was there, he held up the little package and asked, "What's this?"

"A contraception," Margherita explained, reaching back to grab the box of condoms out of his reach. Ezio still held onto the single one.

"How does it work?" he asked, turning the condom over in his hand.

"You put it over your penis and so none of the semen gets in."

Ezio scrunched his nose, "I put this thing on?"

"Yup," she smirked. He scoffed.

"You wouldn't be able to feel anything," he muttered, handing the single condom back to her. Then he glanced at her house, "No one is home."

"Correct, how did you know that?" Margherita pulled the keys from her pocket and went to put them in the ignition... only to be interrupted when Ezio got out of the car. Clumsily, Margherita followed.

Ezio gestured to the driveway, "No moving chariots. And before you went in there was no artificial light." He smiled at her. "I want to see your house."

Margherita hesitated for only a moment before she followed him to the front door and let them both in. In much the same way as she had introduced him to the vacation home, she took him room to room and gave him the standard tour – living room, kitchen, bathroom, family room, and backyard… her bedroom. The room was not large and Margherita had decorated the walls with posters and pictures of her family and friends.

Pausing in front of a picture of Margherita with her mom and dad, Ezio commented, "You look just like them." She nodded and came to stand beside her lover.

He moved on to a group shoot of the entire family.

And he frowned.

Margherita didn't miss the change in expression.

"You look so… happy," he commented softly.

Nodding, Margherita laced her arm through his and explained, "I was. I love my family."

Ezio glanced down at her and gave a slight nod. Then the two moved on.

They found a table outside and situated themselves comfortably. The midday rush for ice cream hadn't started yet and so they two could enjoy their blizzards in peace. Despite being enthused about the treat, Ezio remained mostly silent throughout the ordering process and even now, when they were alone, he refused to comment. The quietness was unsettling for Margherita.

In some respects, she felt a shift between them… a distance unlike the one that had erupted when Ezio had learned the truth a week ago. It was uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" she finally asked.

"Maybe you shouldn't go back with me," he murmured, setting down his blizzard.

"What?" Margherita gasped. Surely he wasn't still mad? "Is this about last week?"

"No, it's just…" Ezio trailed off, frowning into the distance. "You have a family here… a life here." Glancing at her, his expression was one of trepidation… almost as though he wished for her to remain here, and he wished for her to remain with him, but couldn't decide which he preferred more.

"I have a life there, too." Shaking her head, she smashed her blizzard onto the table. "I have you there!"

Whipping a hand through his hair, Ezio groaned and glanced away. Finally, when his thoughts had settled, he asked, "You would give up your family, your friends, you life here for me?"

"And for Leonardo, and for Rosa. That's my family now."

The assassin still wore a skeptical expression, but made no comment more.

When the two stood to discard their trash and return to the vacation home, Margherita paused, and grabbed Ezio's wrist. He was far from convinced, but the blonde had found her trump card.

"If you could have your father and brothers back, but me gone, would you?"

Ezio visibly hesitated and if Margherita didn't understand how much his family meant to the assassin, she would have been deeply hurt. Slowly, his eyes trailed down to her petite hand on his wrist. With a determined expression, he made eye-contact again and replied, "No, no I wouldn't."

"Then don't expect me to."

They returned home and spent the evening together.

About two weeks later the sky wept so much that the streets nearly flooded. Margherita had gotten an early dismissal from school and she knew that her lover walked to and from work. His shift should have ended, so out of the goodness of her heart, she decided to pick him up… the fact that he looked utterly sexy when he was drenched was really just an added bonus.

It seemed the assassin was late, late, late. So, she parked the car (not necessarily legally) and went in search of him. The boss smiled when he saw her and informed her in his smooth Italian that Ezio was just in the back. Thanking him, Margherita headed in that direction.

The large warehouse was scary in the dark… and when a great clap of thunder burst through the room, Margherita jumped. Everyone else had gone home apparently, as the place was quite deserted.

"Back and to the left, it's a small room," the boss had explained. Alrighty then, Margherita decided as she turned one more corner.

Ezio, Ezio, Ezio, where the fuck was that insane assassin?

At the end of the hallway there was a door… Margherita had just clasped the handle and pulled it open when another clap of thunder resonated in the room – and suddenly the one flickering light went out as the warehouse lost power.

"Ezio!" Margherita exclaimed, straining her eyes in the darkened room, searching for her lover.

The room was empty… but one source of light remained…

The Apple.

That damned object sat on the table and blinked on and off – illuminating the room one second and closing it off into darkness again the next moment.

Something in Margherita told her that it would not long continue blinking… that if she waited, if she waited any longer it would be gone, gone, gone. So she sprinted towards it. Just as she clumsily reached the table and grasped at it…

It disappeared.

And suddenly she was left alone.

Frantically, she patted the table, as though it had simply turned invisible. She checked under the table, in every corner of the room. Finally she collapsed and sobs shook her. Ezio was gone. Ezio had seen the Apple and had left without her… without saying goodbye to her.

The Apple had corrected itself and all was as it should have been in each realm, but that didn't stop Margherita from weeping on the floor until the boss found her.

"Ezio?" the question was asked softly, out of the darkness.

"Leonardo?" the assassin recognized the voice on instinct and opened his eyes. Once more, he was in the little workshop, spread out on the floor, the Apple in his hand. He looked at it suspiciously before pushing himself up into a sitting position.

The artist noted what was in his hand and clicked his tongue at the assassin, "Ezio, you shouldn't mess with that. Protecting it is our first priority."

"I know…" the assassin trailed off.

Suddenly, Leonardo looked around the workshop. "I need to speak with Margherita, do you know where she went?"

Ezio didn't even bother to glance around… he knew where she was. "She's not here anymore."

"Did she go out for something?" Leonardo asked, swiftly walking over to the door.

"No," Ezio grit out, "She's not here anymore."

There was something in his tone, something in his words that made Leonardo glance over at the young Auditore. There was something in his expression that made Leonardo's knees give out and the artist joined his friend on the ground.

"She was just here," Leonardo argued in a half-whisper.

All Ezio could do was stare at the Apple in his hand. She was in her world and he was in his. And maybe they would meet again. And maybe they wouldn't. But Ezio had seen his opportunity and taken it. He was needed here. There had been no time to get her. And maybe, it was just as well.

Life moved on.

Margherita did not go to St. Louis University, as her father wanted. She chose to attend American University in Rome. Her dad threw a fit and questioned why the colleges in the U.S. didn't appeal to her. Margherita had simply shrugged.

How could she tell him all that had happened? How could she tell him that being in Italy made her feel more at home than anywhere else in the world? How could she tell him that her dreams were plagued by a white-robed assassin and a golden apple?

How could she tell him that when she wasn't in class, she would walk the streets of Rome, hoping to see a flash of gold?

How could she tell him that over winter break, instead of returning to America, she visited Monteriggioni and cried for weeks afterward?

No, her father couldn't understand why she left home for a foreign country. Just in the same way she couldn't understand why Ezio had left her.