"Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn."
― Bertrand Russell
Jessica adjusted her grip, her muscles taut and her jaw clenched. The skin on her knuckles was white and her eyes were hard and unyielding as she held tight to the wooden stick in her grasp, winding back her shoulders, taking aim and then throwing the force of her entire body into her swing. The stick hit its mark and a foul smell filled the air. She covered her mouth with her arm, coughing slightly in disgust, before she pulled back the stick and swung, again and again. Gritting her teeth she swore bitterly with every merciless blow, shivering in the crisp morning air though cool sweat beaded on her face. Her shoulders and back ached but she refused to let up. This had to be done.
"Tea, mia cara?"
Jessica started, lowering the stick and turning toward the voice with a sheepish look, not realising there had been an audience to her violence.
"Leo. What are you doing awake?"
"I'm here to give you tea. And to save what is left of Elmo's rug, apparently. Go easy on it, would you? You are cleaning it, not beating the life out of it. Honestly, what did it ever do to you?"
Jessica half smiled in response and took the proffered cup of warm tea, leaving the rug beater leaning against the tree from which she had hung the blackened rug from Elmo's study.
"It still smells like rotten eggs," Leonardo commented lightly as they drank their tea and inspected the damage in the early morning light.
"The whole house does," Jessica grumbled. Glancing sideways at the man she wondered how he could be so blasé about everything. It was like nothing fazed him. It was infuriating.
"It was an accident. Do not be angry with him."
"How could I not be?" she scoffed, wincing as she burned her tongue. "First he tries to kill himself messing around with black powder, and then he tells me that he wants to become a thief."
"I don't think that's what he meant," Leo smiled serenely in the face of her brooding fury. "He sympathises with their cause against Barbarigo and wishes to assist in easing the troubles of those who suffer beneath him."
"I get that. The man is awful. But black powder? Is violence really the only way men know how to deal with their issues?"
Leonardo sent her a look of gentle chastisement, as if amused and touched by her naivety. "I know how it offends your pacifist tendencies, but you must try to understand; some men simply cannot be reasoned with. Men in power who use their influence to exploit others are rarely willing to part with it. Sometimes they can be convinced by words, or with a sword. But others would die before relinquishing that which they believe to be theirs."
"And you're fine with that? You think that those men deserve to die?" she stammered, aghast.
The man sighed deeply, the pained look on his face a strange change to his usually bright and jovial features. "I believe that every man has a choice to either do good, or do evil. And whichever path he chooses, whichever actions he chooses to make, he must accept the consequences."
"But what about the possibility of reformation? Don't you think people deserve a second chance?"
"Of course. For some people, such things are possible. But for others..." He shook his head sadly. "There are many good people in the world. But there are also a great many who are bad. And amongst them are the wealthy and influential few who use their advantage to harm others. Sometimes it is a select few who fall victim. But more commonly, it is entire populations who are starved, oppressed and slaughtered at the order of the bad man who resides above them. I believe in the sanctity of life, Marietta, truly, I do. But would you not agree to the death of a single bad man if it meant that a hundred others might live?"
Jessica glowered into her cup, not liking that she had been trapped by the question. "That sounds like something Ezio would say," she grumbled at last.
Leonardo was quiet for but another moment before he brightened once more. "Well, I think this will be good for Elmo. Trust that he is an intelligent man who knows what he is doing."
Jessica sighed deeply. "I just don't understand where he got the idea from in the first place."
"Ah, well that would be because of the woman who visits him."
She blinked at him. "What woman?"
"The brown haired thief woman. She visits him every few days and they sit for hours in his study. They seem to enjoy each other's company." He chuckled, nudging her side playfully.
Jessica, horrified, was drowning in guilt and shame that she had neglected Elmo so much in these past weeks leading up to the Auditore's arrival that she had failed to notice that he had met anyone at all. What sort of friend was she?
"Ahh, what is her name? It is some kind of flower, I'm sure..."
Jessica was struck by a sudden realisation. "Rosa?" she offered with a deep dread.
"Yes that's it! Rosa."
"Elmo is spending his time with Rosa? Are you serious?"
"Yes. You know her?" he asked curiously.
"We've met," she said dryly. "She's shown up near a dozen times out of the blue to talk to be about her relationship problems. Apparently I'm not the only person she's found to listen to her ramblings." Jessica scowled, the initial surprise fading back to her dark mood as she wondered what exactly it was that Rosa was playing at.
She had appeared suddenly at Jessica's side in the markets and at various locations around the city quite a few times since their first conversations about 'Steve', and the topic never really varied otherwise. The young thief was entirely enamoured with her mystery man from across the sea and Jessica could see that it was quickly growing to something more serious, though she did occasionally mention other names but none which recurred as frequently.
And now Jessica knew all about how his eyes narrowed when he was thinking, how his lips twisted in the most adorable way when he was upset, and how he liked his coffee with cream and sugar. She had been fully informed of how attractive his fingers are, and how Rosa couldn't decide whether she liked them better bare or in gloves, and how it made her insides twist in the most wonderful way when he rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows so she could see the dark hair and lean muscles of his arms.
Jessica also got to hear a lot about his jaw. Apparently it was the best jaw in existence.
He was also kind and handsome and brilliant and clever and perfect and powerful.
Ugh.
Jessica rolled her eyes just thinking about it. What an absolute nightmare.
She would rather have faced the man who had apparently been following her from the marketplace – a story she now highly doubted – if it meant that she never had to meet and suffer Rosa and her never ending tales about how funny and attractive Steve was that week.
It had been a long time since she had met someone she really didn't like, and Rosa was it. She supposed that she was a nice enough woman. In another life her sass and sarcasm might have even rubbed well with Jessica. But her issue had never been personal until now.
Because if she was so in love with Steve – God, she was regretting that codename –, what the hell was she doing spending so much time with Elmo? Were they friends? Did she like him? Did he like her? Jessica remembered his blush when Leonardo mentioned her last night, and she answered half of her own question. But did she feel the same way or was she just using him while she bided her time waiting for Steve to come around? If that was the case then they were going to have some serious problems.
"She seems like a lovely young woman."
"She's a thief. She'll bring him nothing but trouble."
Leonardo decided not to argue with her, and so they stood in a tense silence as the sky slowly brightened and the birds awoke and the day began.
"Not that one."
"Why not?"
"It has worms in it."
Jessica picked up the fish beside the one she had been inspecting and glanced at the little girl next to her. "What about this one?"
"That one's good."
"Good."
She purchased the fish and they moved on, weaving slowly through the busy marketplace. It was a cool midmorning, but the heat of the bodies packed tightly into the covered marketplace put sweat on her brow and made her roll her sleeves to her elbows. She stumbled as a large man shoved past her and cursed under her breath, keeping her face pleasant and her posture submissive as she was sent a dirty look for 'being in the way' of yet another foul-tempered Venetian.
She had enough experience in this life to know that being assertive and confident as well as a woman would not end in her favour; if she wanted no trouble the best course of action was to lower her eyes, stammer an apology and skitter off. To do otherwise would cause a scene, and then people would talk and the last thing she needed was to gain a reputation which would adversely affect Leonardo's business, and thus her own. It wasn't so bad, biting her tongue. And she could always bitch about it later to Elmo.
Uni, on the other hand, had no such troubles. To see her moving calmly and freely through the crowd, unhindered by a truly physical form and thus literally passing through the bodies around her would once have thoroughly disturbed Jessica, but as it was she barely noticed it.
"Why do you wish to know about Marietta Sanfilippo?"
"I want to know who she was. And why everyone thought I was her. And probably why I'm here in the first place. I assume it's all connected," Jessica mumbled nonchalantly, picking through the apples and choosing the best looking ones to add to her rather full shopping basket.
She sensed Uni's frown before she saw it, and only had to glance at the child to encourage her to speak.
The little girl shook her head. "It's not relevant," she said with a sincere lack of understanding. A tiny, pale hand reached out and took a pear from the stall, rolling it between her hands and inspecting it with curiousity as they moved off. Jessica prayed no one could see a pear floating eerily along beside her.
"It is to me," she said, looking down at the young girl severely. She watched as Uni's dark and gaunt features twisted unhappily; she didn't like it when Jessica pressed a topic. Usually she would just disappear, effectively ending the conversation, but today she lingered.
"You could ask your companions. They trust you and would be honest in their answer."
Jessica remembered how Leonardo had encouraged her to say more on the topic of where she had come from as they stood in the Auditores new home. He would listen, and he would most likely believe her. Elmo probably would too, after some convincing. He was rather hard headed, after all. But what would be the point? Who Jessica Raso had been was no longer relevant to her life. But who Marietta Sanfilippo was had quickly become quite so.
"I'm asking you. You heard what Claudia said; there are people looking for me—for Marietta. She had an aunt and the aunt wants to know where her heiress niece has gotten to. And since everyone thinks I'm Marietta, they're going to think that I'm that niece." She sighed at Uni's furrowed brow and tight lips. "All I'm asking for is some general background knowledge, and maybe an explanation as to why everyone thinks I'm her in the first place."
They paused in a less crowded area of the marketplace, beside a stall where an elderly florist sold a breathtaking array of colourful flowers. She was grateful for the roof over the place, for though it was winter, the heat of the markets was intense, and the sun would have made her slight discomfort all the worse. Jessica adjusted the heavy basket on her arm and stepped out of the way of a man carrying a large rug on his shoulder, which turned as he turned and hit a woman on the back of the head. As he attempted to apologise to the woman and her furious husband, Jessica pressed close to the stall beside the florists', which sold a variety of incredible smelling pastries. She took in a deep breath and deliberated whether or not she could afford to indulge in such a treat.
"If you were to know than you would know. The Mark will tell you all."
Jessica had heard such excuses for years, but not once had the Mark on her hand ever offered any such knowledge on anything she wished to know about, so she nodded impatiently and asked again.
"Why has everyone always assumed I'm her?"
Uni bruised the pear in her hands, watching as her small, bony fingers dug into the soft green skin of the fruit, and for a long while Jessica waited for the inevitable pop of her ears which would indicate the girl's disappearance. But it didn't come.
"You are... identical, to her. That is why they call you by her name."
Jessica frowned, "Well, yes. I figured that much. But why?"
"It is... easiest this way. The family trusted Marietta Sanfilippo, and so they trusted you."
"Okay," she nodded. "That makes sense... Where is she now? The real Marietta?"
She knew before Uni had even reacted that she would get no answer to this question, and indeed she watched as the walls fell behind the inhuman girl's red-gold orbs, and the black of her eyes, where white should be, churned impenetrably.
But whatever vague and cryptic response Uni had to say was interrupted by the unwelcomingly familiar sound of guards clanking their armoured way across the cobblestones. The duo, one real and the other not quite so, turned with a wary apprehension amongst the sea of people who also turned to stare either disgustedly or fearfully at what proved to be a small troop of Emilio Barbarigo's guards, in all their yellow and blue splendour, shoving their way through the crowded market.
Whatever hopes of the guards being a simple patrol were vanquished as group came to a stop before the elderly florists' stall and for a long moment Jessica couldn't quite comprehend what was happening before her eyes. Instinctively she stepped into the gathering bystanders, becoming one of the crowd and observing as the guards descended threateningly on the trembling old florist. Around them, more and more people stopped to watch as the guard leader demanded Barbarigo's dues.
"You think you can conduct your business without paying what you owe?"
"Please, signore. I have paid my rent to Signor Barbarigo—"
"You are a liar! Do you think we would be here if you had paid?"
"Please, sir! I don't understand."
The people around her grumbled and shifted unhappily as the guard leader grew agitated as the florist tried to explain that he had paid the rent and didn't understand why they thought he hadn't. Jessica scowled at the guards who surrounded their leader, their backs to him and their weapons out as they glared at the crowd. This wasn't going to end well, and Jessica knew it. Her ears popped and she knew Uni had vanished. The pear the girl had been holding hit her foot as it rolled across the ground.
She glanced down as it touched her shoe, and in that moment, there was a yell, and a crash and she looked up in shock to see the florist scream and duck for cover as the guard leader simply took the edge of the stall and flipped it over, sending buckets filled with water and flowers everywhere. Delicate petals were crushed underfoot as the leader stamped on the buckets, crushing them to bits, laughing as the florist pleaded with him to stop.
Horrified and furious, Jessica looked around at the drawn, tight, and fearful faces of the people around her. Someone had to do something! Her grip tightened on the handle of her basket as the leader turned his attention from the devastation of the once beautiful flower stall to its owner, who cowered from him, tears dribbling down wrinkled cheeks. Jessica's face burned with emotion as her every muscle tensed and she opened her mouth to scream at leader of the guard, who had reached down and plucked the elderly florist from the ground, to stop, when she was suddenly forced aside by an enormous hulking form who had pushed his way through the crowd.
Jessica recognised him as the fishmonger from whom she had just bought a rather nice, parasite free fish, and with wide eyes she watched, along with the rest of the marketplace, the vast majority of who had stopped to watch the scene, as he drew the attention of the very clearly armed guards. The fishmonger was huge, bigger than Ezio even, with thick, black hair and a beard to match, and shoulders which seemed built instead of grown. He stood before them, in the clear space which had formed as a safe distance between the crowd and the guards, and faced them. Jessica's heart hammered in her chest as the crowd began to thicken and the air filled with a strange electric charge.
"Put him down," was all the fishmonger said.
The guards blinked. Their leader slowly turned to look at the one who had spoken, as if he could scarcely believe anyone could have the nerve. The fishmonger stared back unflinchingly, thick, black eyebrows low over stormy grey eyes. The florist sobbed quietly.
"And who are you?" the leader demanded, his eyes filled with malicious mirth and a dangerous smirk on his lips.
The fishmonger crossed his arms over his chest, and Jessica saw the muscles ripple across his back through his thin, dark grey shirt. She felt as though she were watching a movie, or a play. Though her mind seared with outrage at the injustice done, her heart hammered with the excitement of the moment, and she found herself rooting for this fishmonger who had, in a single moment, become her greatest hero.
The man in question did not answer the guard, and instead stepped forward.
"Put him down."
Jessica held her breath as she saw rage pass over the guard leader's face. His hands tightened at the florists' collar. The guards shifted at the threat and they half-drew their weapons. A bead of sweat rolled down Jessica's neck.
"Or what?" the guard leader sneered, his cruel eyes narrowed. "Have you any idea who you are talking to, feccia? I am of Barbarigo's guard. I take his orders and carry them out without hesitance or fail and am justly rewarded. I am the one who decides who has paid and who has not. I decide whether you luridi branco di cani bastardi are to sell your pitiful excuse for food and wares." Incensed, the guard leader dropped the florist and stalked toward the fishmonger, screaming loud enough for all the crowd to hear. "I am in charge here. And who are you who dares to stand against us? You are nothing. You are the shit on my boots, lorido porco. Run off back to your puttana mother while I still allow you to draw breath!" He finished, spitting at the fishmonger's feet.
But the fishmonger proved himself a brave man, or at least a defiant one. He stood like a wall; feet firmly planted and arms over his chest as he stared steadily at the band of guards who had destroyed the florists' stand. At his lack of reaction, the guard leader scoffed and turned from him, moving toward the near faint florist once more. When suddenly the fishmonger's loud voice rang out clearly through the marketplace, bouncing along the roof and from the pillars which held it above their heads.
"Piss on Barbarigo! And piss on any who follow the bastard!"
A shaky but loud cheer went up at that, and Jessica's heart stuttered in her chest as she realised that the other stand owners were gradually gaining courage in response to the fishmonger's brazen confidence. She clutched her basket and tried to edge out of the growing crowd, but there were too many people and she found herself wedged between a large woman with sweaty armpits and an even larger man with too many chins to count. She saw the guards fully unsheathe their weapons as they ordered what was quickly turning into a mob, to disperse.
Jessica forced herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. She would be fine. They were after the guards, not her. But the mob grew agitated as the guards continued to make their threats, and someone's elbow dug into Jessica's hip painfully, and people were shouting horrible things and pushing forward like a terrible wave of bony arms, sweaty backs and heavy feet. Then someone threw a rock. And another.
There was a strange metal clang as one of the rocks hit their mark, and the guard recoiled and the guards tightened into formation, shoving back a man who had drawn too close, and the action served to increase the anger of the crowd, and more rocks were thrown, more words were exchanged, and then suddenly, as if on cue, the mob descended and the marketplace was thrown into a violent chaos.
The merchants of Venice were frightened and they were angry and they were clearly fed up with Barbarigo's tyranny. They were done with being oppressed. It had taken the destruction of an old man's flower stand and the very near assault of his person to do it, but enough was enough. No more. Jessica supported the movement wholeheartedly. People deserved to go about their business at their own pace, without guards looking over their shoulders and watching their every move. She would just prefer not to be in the middle of it.
She would also prefer that the idiots actually fought their enemy, and not each other. She scowled as the mob got quickly out of hand, the tension in the air too great for the wound up and frustrated Venetians to handle, and so they took it out on anyone who came near, guard or not. She scuttled through the battlefield, keeping her head down and trying to stay out of the way of the swinging fists and people wrestling each other into stands and across the ground. Glancing behind her, she saw the fishmonger take a swing at the guard leader, who caught the giant fist with his face. The florist cheered from where he took cover behind the artists' stall. Jessica kept moving, looking for openings between the sweaty, roaring masses, headed toward the light. Movement above caught her eye and she saw young men standing upon the wooden stands and pelting people with rocks. She cursed the bastards, wincing as a pebble struck her shoulder from behind. They really weren't helping to calm the situation.
She stopped short with an embarrassing squeal of shock as the man in front of her was suddenly tackled from the side and driven into a vegetable stand, the combined weight of the men cracking the wooden structure in two and causing it to simply crumble before her eyes, sending apples, oranges, bananas and pears rolling in every direction. Clutching her basket tightly to her chest, her shoulders were around her ears as she stared in wide eyed astonishment at the destruction before her. It took her name being spoken by a familiar deep voice to shake her out of her sudden paralysis, and her eyes shot to the man who stood directly across from her, a mess of broken wood, squashed and rolling fruits and thrashing men separating them.
"Ezio?!" she gaped, stunned. And though she couldn't get the next words out whether due to shock or reluctance she was sure that her entire being was screaming it; HELP ME. More fluidly than she could believe, he had scrambled across the obstacles before him and was standing in front of her. In that moment, all of their past differences meant absolutely nothing as he stood before her and took her shoulders in his large, warm hands, one gloved and the other bare, and she couldn't remember being so happy to see a familiar face, even that of Ezio Auditore. He held her shoulders tightly, holding her close and seeming to engulf her form with his larger one, blocking her from the pandemonium around them, and she felt comforted, even as he shook her and glared.
"What are you doing? You need to get out of here," he snapped in a tone she had never heard from him before. It was deep and authoritative and powerful and she knew at once that he was in the headspace of an Assassin. This was Ezio Auditore at the most professional she had ever seen him. And the most intimidating.
"I know!" she snarled, hugging her basket to her chest and standing closer to the Assassin she continued to struggle to hate, as a tangle of women shrieked behind them, rolling from what had once been a bead stall, and hitting the floor hard, still scratching and punching all the while. "Let's go," she said shakily.
He wound his arm around her shoulders and held her tight against his side, throwing his cape over her head for protection against the rock-throwing youths and began to push their way through the horde. Jessica stumbled dumbly along, holding onto basket above all else, and silently reciting every curse she knew. She could barely believe her bad luck. Of course the day she went to the market the guard would come and incite a riot. And of course she would be at the forefront of it. And of course Ezio Auditore would show up and decide to help her.
She couldn't see much in her position, so she kept her gaze on the ground, watching his boots and trying to mimic his movements, not wanting to trip and have any more reason to be grateful to him. The noise was horrific, shouts and screams of anger, pain and fear, increased tenfold as it bounced off the roof of the marketplace. The air was thick with the stench of fish and fruits and flowers and sweat and blood. She kept tripping over broken stalls and rugs and candles and watermelons and limbs, and it was only Ezio's strong arm around her which kept her upright and moving.
Jessica leaned into his side, smelling sweat and leather and something which reminded her of the Auditore's Villa, and for the first time ever, she was entirely grateful that he was there with her. That he was protecting her without askance and without hesitation after everything that had transpired between them made absolutely no sense. But her feelings toward him never really had. Everyone else she knew fit nicely into a box in her mind; Claudia, and Petruccio and Elmo and Leonardo and Federico. She knew where they all stood in her life and what they meant to her. All but for Ezio Auditore.
She hated him and all he stood for, but the thought of seeing him upset killed her. She loved to talk to him but she rarely liked what he had to say. The sight of him intimidated her; he was a one man army, a walking armoury, an Assassin, and yet when he pulled down that white hood all she could think of was the young man lying sweaty and exhausted in the middle of the training ring in Monteriggioni, or who sat with her under the stars and drank wine and ate cheese and spoke nonsense with her for hours. Everything about him was a contradiction, and she doubted she would ever truly understand him. But what mattered was that he was here now, caring enough to protect her without a second thought on the matter, and that she trusted him enough to do just that.
He came to a stop and she straightened up, his heavy brown cape falling around her shoulders as she was drawn in closer to him, his warm, firm arm wrapped protectively around her slightly trembling form. Jessica was surprised at just how truly afraid she was, and even more so at how much being pressed so securely into Ezio Auditore's side comforted her. She had hoped that their stopping had meant that they had reached safety, but looking around, she saw that they had, in fact, found themselves rather stuck between a violent throng and a very large guard with an axe. There wasn't enough room for the man to actually swing the weapon, fortunately for the people he was faced against, but he was doing enough damage just waving his armoured arms about and shoving at people with the wooden hilt. The look in Ezio's eyes said that in any case, he really didn't want to go anywhere near him.
"What now?" she asked in what she hoped was a steady voice. He didn't answer and instead gazed around, his golden eyes gleaming and a proud look of defiance on his face that made him look especially handsome. At his unnerving lack of response, her panic rose. "Ezio?" she squeaked, staring up at his hooded face intensely.
At that moment, movement over his shoulder brought to her attention a man standing above the rest, one arm pulled back with a sizeable stone in his hand, and his eyes locked on the back of Ezio Auditore's head. She saw the man move, saw the rock fly from his hand, straight on target, and without a thought, she flung the basket out of her arms and threw herself against the man who held her, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed herself against him with enough force to send him back a step. His arms wrapped around her waist in instinctive surprise. His backward stumble caused his head to lower, effectively putting him out of danger, while Jessica's head came to be in the exact spot his had been; a fact which occurred to her moments too late as her world suddenly fell into darkness and she became limp in Ezio's arms.
He watched a thick bead of blood ooze from the sudden, round wound on Marietta's forehead just below her hairline, the red trail shocking against her pale skin. Holding her soft, lifeless form, Ezio stared into her face, beautiful even in violent unconsciousness, and tried to understand her. Even as his body flooded with a cold, searing rage, he held her gently, swiftly lifting her into his arms. The sight of a bloodily injured woman lying lifelessly in his arms seemed to startle many of the mob out of their bloodlust, and they stepped quickly out of his way, staring with wide eyes at the trail of red which now flowed steadily from the woman's head. Dark golden eyes glowered dangerously, inciting fear in the heart of any who found themselves in the Assassin's path. Ezio's mind raced as he carried the small, warm and limp form of Marietta Sanfilippo from the marketplace and toward his family's new palazzo, which was closer now than her own home.
Why had she done this? He could have taken the blow, as he had taken many others. But she had thrown herself at him, putting herself in the way of danger with the sole purpose of keeping him safe. No, he could not believe it. She hated him. She had made that clear on several occasions now. Whatever friendship he had once believed they shared was long gone, and during that time such terrible things had been said between them. But here she lay soft and unconscious in his arms, bleeding from an injury that was meant to be his. Had she truly known the rock would hit him? Were her actions truly made to protect him? Ezio's heart was in his throat as he entered his family's Venetian home, hurrying through the courtyard, his voice hoarse as he called for Federico and his sister.
They met him at the top of the staircase at the entrance to their home, and after some cries of horror and confusion, he was directed to lay her upon the soft feather mattress of the guest room's grand bed. Ezio stepped away to allow a deeply concerned Claudia to inspect and try to wake her friend, while their mother had Petruccio and the servants fetch the necessary items for her treatment. Federico shook where he stood beside Ezio, his shoulders tense and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides as his eyes fixed to Marietta's face, her long dark lashes fanning her bloodless cheeks and her pale lips parted as she breathed, slowly and deeply.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"There was a riot in the marketplace. She was struck by a rock as I attempted to get her to safety."
"A riot?"
"Si. The people are troubled. Emilio Barbarigo charges the merchants high rent and his guards are quick to anger and brutal in their punishments."
"She shouldn't have been there alone." Federico's eyes filled with grief for the life he had long dreamed of, and which had been dashed so swiftly by the very one he had hoped to live it with, leaving him heartbroken. Ezio squeezed his brother's shoulder in comfort. A gentle moan drew the attention of the room, and they watched as their mother dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, cleaning the blood from Marietta's face, following the trail along her jaw, down her neck and across the flat of her chest down to where it had soaked into the scooped collar of her light blue dress.
The cool sensation pressed against her heated skin roused Jessica and she opened her eyes slowly, wincing as an awful throbbing headache ripped through her skull. She groaned, raising a hand to touch a particularly sore spot on her forehead when a soft, cool hand gently took hers and drew it away. Blinking in confusion, her eyes opened fully and she stared at the people around her, for a long moment having absolutely no recollection of who they were. She lifted her head to look at her surroundings for more clues as to what the hell was going on, and immediately regretted it when her stomach gave a terrible lurch and her head spun like she was on a Round Up.
"What the hell?" she moaned as the cool hand left hers and a cold wet cloth was pressed against her forehead, making the now notably unique pain flare across her skin. She managed to focus on the face closest to hers; an older woman with dark eyes, a straight nose and shapely pink lips looming over her as a waterfall of straight, dark hair cascaded over her shoulder. Several slow blinks and Jessica's mind returned to her. "Maria? What happened?"
"You are hurt, mia cara. Do not try to sit up."
Her eyes closed tight as the throbbing in her head worsened, she slumped back into the soft bed beneath her with a pained breath. She tried to remember what had happened but couldn't recall anything beyond inspecting a particularly good smelling pastry stall at the markets. She frowned as Maria continued to dab at her face, and opened her eyes again to look at her.
"Was I unconscious?"
At her serene nod, Jessica immediately panicked, every piece of information regarding the dangers of head injuries and being unconscious as a result flooding to her already bruised and battered mind at once.
"What? For how long? What happened? Did I trip? Did someone hit me?"
"Calm yourself," came a deep voice, and Jessica looked to it and met the steady eyes of Ezio Auditore. The way his eyes held her own, unwaveringly assured and completely focused upon her made her feel infinitely better as she drew strength from his calm composure. "You were struck by a rock during a riot in the marketplace. The people stood against Barbarigo's guards but it quickly descended into madness. I carried you to my family's palazzo."
She blinked at him, stunned at his words, and then deeply embarrassed. "You carried me? Oh god, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. You are light as a feather."
"And you're a liar."
He chuckled, glad to see that she seemed fine, though her cheeks were still pale and she looked more than a little faint.
A thought came to her. "Has anyone told Leonardo? He knew I was at the markets and he would've heard about the trouble there by now."
"I will send word to him," Maria assured her gently.
"No, I should go." Again she tried to rise but immediately fell back onto the pillows as her stomach lurched and her pain flared through her skull before settling behind her eyes. She held back a groan.
"You are not well."
"I'm fine. Just a little woozy. How long did you say I was out?" she asked Ezio, her voice sounding weak even to her ears.
"Almost five minutes in all."
"Oh, good. I really... should go." She tried getting up slowly, but the world spun and she was lowered down by Maria's gentle hand on her shoulder. A cold press was applied to her forehead, and then removed, and she saw that the white cloth had turned red with blood. The sight made her stomach churn.
"You're not going anywhere in your state. You can hardly sit up, let alone stand," Ezio said, his voice commanding and far too loud.
She winced and found him amongst the sea of faces. His hood was down, his arms crossed and his golden eyes burned with a strange emotion.
"But Leo—" she protested weakly.
"Will be sent word. Would you just lie back and relax? Stubborn woman."
"Frustrating man," she retorted, but at last closed her sore eyes and did as she was bid, relaxing in the softest bed she had been in since Monteriggioni.
One by one, as each Auditore was satisfied with her care, they left the room, Ezio last of all, shooting a final glance at the woman curled up on the giant bed, a bandage tied around her forehead, fast asleep in the safety of their home. He smiled to himself as he closed the door behind him, but couldn't quite explain why. He supposed it was because he could not remember the last time he had been teased and spoken to so casually by Marietta, and he found that he enjoyed it immensely.
Ezio hid away his private smile as he found his brother standing by a window, gazing moodily out at what was one of the most breathtaking views of the Grand Canal in all of Venice.
"What ails you brother?" he asked, coming to stand beside him.
Federico's form was tense, his hands clasped behind his back and his knuckles white as he inquired through a clenched jaw, "Is she well?"
Eyeing his brother cautiously, Ezio nodded, "She is."
Federico nodded slowly. His eyes slid closed then and he wiped a hand over his face, for a moment completely still before he suddenly whispered, seemingly to himself, "Damn her."
Federico heaved in a shuddering breath and turned from his younger sibling, trying to get a hold of himself and Ezio understood at once and did not judge him for a moment.
"You still care for her." It was not a question.
Federico froze, his head lowered, and for a long while it was silent. Then, he spoke, "She broke my heart, Ezio. It nearly killed me. For so long I felt as if I could never be happy again. Nothing made sense without her near. Her smile, her eyes, her voice... Il cielo mi aiuti. Of course I still care for her." Federico sighed heavily. And then he fixed his brother in a stare that made the hairs on Ezio's neck stand on end. "Do you?" he asked lowly. For a moment, Ezio stammered in shock at the sudden turn in the conversation, but recovered quickly.
"You know of the one who holds my heart, brother. There is no other."
Federico's eyes widened. "Cristina Vespucci? After all this time?"
Ezio let out a breath, "Always."
But as his brother clapped him on the shoulder and left him by the window, Ezio found that he could not get the lingering memory of Marietta's arms winding around his neck, of her supple body pressed against his chest and the feel of her warmth beneath his hands out of his mind.