Part Thirteen: Reality is Relative

Ezio spent the next day and a half heading to Forli. He'd found an isolated stream and spent quite some time washing the mud and grit and dirt out of the Medici cape, and while washing it, Ezio realized just how far away he was from Florence. Wearing the Medici cape, with its bright red and gold just begged to be noticed. Taking back roads had been useless and Ezio once more cursed himself. The Medici cape would only be of use in Tuscany and Florence. This deep into the mountains, it was a beacon. So once it was cleaned to the best of Ezio's ability, the cape was carefully folded and put into his saddlebag. Of course, Leonardo had disappeared with most of Ezio's supplies in the wagon, but Ezio could survive. He still had coin.

A cold drizzle started to fall again as he weaved from the main highway and the back roads to make his way to Forli. He deliberately took a winding path, hoping that, if people were looking for him, they would be baffled by his backtracking. It also, he hoped, gave Leonardo time to distance himself and arrive at Forli un-harassed. He spent the night in a cold camp and shivered miserably as the temperatures dropped below freezing. The following morning all the roads were icy and Ezio had his horse stepping carefully as they finally made it to the vast flooded fields around Forli.

The walled city faced terrible flooding this time of year for centuries until the nearby rivers had been diverted. Now, though the city center itself wasn't flooded, the plains around and even up to the city walls could be submerged in water at this time of year. It was midday as Ezio approached, keeping his horse at a slow walk to seem like a traveler weary of the dreary weather. He set his horse up in the stables, paying the stable boy to give the animal a good brush down; especially after the harrowing adventure it had had in the mountains, and some extra feed. The stable boy's eyes bugged out and when Ezio asked where he might find a good priced lodging for a few days, the child pointed him to an inn that, while looking like it was on hard times, had warm beds and good food.

Ezio spent the rest of the day searching around the town, looking for Leonardo, or any place Leonardo might go to wait for him. At the stables, he'd spotted the painter's wagon, hard not to see with the damage to the siding after Ezio's race through narrow mountain passes.

It was to no avail, however, and Ezio pressed down his worry that evening, taking a bath that warmed him after such a cold day, and pretended to sleep, trying to figure out ways to find Leonardo that wouldn't leave him exposed to the Count of Forli and his Templar allies. Unlike San Gimignano, there were no truly tall structures in Forli, no towers to scale for him to try and find his friend with his special sight. The only one that existed was part of the Abbazia di San Mercuriale, which was protected by Forli guards. And even if the tower, the tallest Ezio had ever seen, hadn't been guarded by a Templar supporter's men, Ezio hesitated to use his vision like that, given how draining it had been when he'd been looking for Bernardo Baroncelli. It had taken hours to spy that flicker of gold, and his eyes had burned for the rest of the day afterward. No, using his eagle like that would be better as a last resort for finding Leonardo.

So the next day, still feeling exhausted and worried, Ezio set out again. The Abbey of San Mercuriale, as Ezio learned as he chatted with the proud locals, held the tallest bell tower, indeed, the tallest tower in all of Italy, built to honor their local saint and patron three-hundred years ago almost to the year. Indeed, it did look like a challenge to climb, but with green-garbed guards walking around the square, Ezio thought it better to keep a low profile. Also in the square in front of the Abbey, was the Palazzo Comunale which, the locals scorned, ended up inhabited by the tyrannical Ordelaffi family, who's rule had ended with Pino III, who had killed his first wife, his mother, his second wife, and then was killed by the third wife.

"An interesting history, this town has," Ezio commented. The women he was speaking with all laughed and blushed, trying to expound even further. All the while, Ezio's eyes roamed across the square. He didn't wear his whites, though he was more comfortable in them and their connection to his father, he felt he'd be too conspicuous in them. So Doriano's new clothes came out, of black and grays that blended in with the dreary weather and damp town. These cloths were also, thankfully, waxed, so that the rain didn't soak him quite so thoroughly.

Especially when,

"Is this... snow?" he asked one of the giggling women.

"Si," she replied with a pretty blush. "I keep forgetting you're from Toscana. You don't get much snow there, do you?"

"Oh, it gets chilly in winter, certainly," Ezio said, holding out his hand as another small flake fell to his palm. "I remember once waking up to having snow in our courtyard and my siblings and I playing out in it before our parents dragged us back to our studies, but I don't think I've ever seen it fall. The coating we got, does it really come from such small quantities?"

There was another round of interested giggles as snow was explained to the charming young Florentine. As well as how to properly stay warm against the cold.

The next day, however, Ezio finally had a reason to leave the young women he'd been speaking to. His sharp eyes, which he switched to his special sight on and off as he watched the people in the town square, saw what he was looking for.

"Excuse me ladies, the person I've been waiting for has arrived."

There were disappointed sighs and pouts, but Ezio crossed over to his friend.

"Leonardo!"

The painter startled, his arm full of papers and brushes dropping to the street as he whirled around.

"Ah!" he smiled brightly. "Ezio! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"As I have you," Ezio replied, already leaning down gracefully to start picking up Leonardo's mess. "I'm glad to see you well."

"Likewise," Leonardo beamed. "I've been searching all over! I tried to mention the attack at the Palazzo Comunale, but they wouldn't hear of it, bureaucratic nonsense, let me tell you, so I've been trying to search the town myself, but I didn't know where you'd try to stay..."

Ezio listened with a smile as his friend prattled on, trying not to frown at how Forli's Count, the co-conspirator he couldn't kill, might know that he was in town. He guided Leonardo through less-seen alleys and smaller roads until they came to the inn Ezio was staying at. Leonardo followed Ezio up to his room, and Ezio leaned by the window, checking outside to see if they had been followed.

Quietly, he closed the shutters.

Turning, he noticed that Leonardo was sitting on a chair by the fireplace and looking seriously. "Do I find out what's been going on now?"

Ezio smiled, starting a fire and then taking a seat.

"I told you that those men after us were Rodrigo Borgia's."

"Yes," Leonardo replied, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Who is this Borgia?"

Ezio laughed, softly, glad that there were some people out there who didn't know of the complications of the war Ezio was fighting, though Leonardo was too bright to not put pieces together.

"The Spaniard is a Cardinal-Bishop and has served under many Popes. We shall simply say that he and I... don't get along. Like the Pazzi and Medici don't get along."

Leonardo sat back, the information sinking in. "Ah, politics," he said at last. "It's so good that a painter like myself never has to get involved."

"I'd rather it stay that way," Ezio replied with a nod, running a hand through his hair as the fire finally started to warm him. "Your help in my various... research projects, however, remains appreciated, if you're willing."

Leonardo smiled brightly, his entire countenance shining with joy. "Ezio, my friend, I will always be there for you."

Ezio smiled as well. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Ah!" Leonardo exclaimed as something came to him. "You said this Borgia-Spaniard is close to the Pope?"

"Yes."

"Oh, what a mess I've made, my friend," Leonardo sat back. "Isn't our current host, Count Riario the Pope's nephew?"

"Or bastard son, if you listen to the local gossip," Ezio nodded.

Leonardo grimaced, realizing the mess he made by going to the Palazzo Comunale. "I guess I'll be getting my things and moving them here."

"No," Ezio said firmly.

His friend looked up, hurt.

Ezio sighed. "I'd rather you were here so that I knew you were safe, but if you're being watched, it's safer for you to stay wherever you're staying. We can meet at the square like we did today, looking like a pair of old friends who haven't seen each other in a while, but by staying at different inns, we should avoid too much suspicion."

Leonardo sat back, thinking about it, but nodded. "Well, then I should be on my way," he said. "Tomorrow we meet up and head out for our ship. It should sail tomorrow."

"Bene."

The following day they met at the town square again, and headed for the stables at the south entrance. Ezio put his travel pack in the new wagon Leonardo was using and left his horse in the stables, thinking that the horse itself might be recognized as the wagon might be. Besides, once they were on the ship, and in Venice, Ezio wouldn't need the horse.

They were following a muddy road along the eastern wall, chatting amiably as they had a rarity in Italian winters: A clear day with the sun shining merrily above them. Indeed, it was almost warm. At least compared to how cold it had been since they entered the mountains.

Ezio and Leonardo were conversing, or rather, Leonardo was expounding on his latest theory on something or other and Ezio listened with a smile. However, they had to stop the wagon as a small trio was standing in the road, having a lighthearted argument.

"Certainly you were impressed this time. That was fast!" a man said to a lovely young woman, only a few years older than Ezio.

"I could do better!" the woman laughed. "Anyone could!" Her throaty laugh caught Ezio's ear and he smiled as he hopped off the wagon. Leonardo merely groaned.

"Ezio," he hissed, "not now!"

The young Florentine ignored him. "Excuse me," he interrupted, "I'm trying to find the boat to Venezia."

"You're nearly there, friend," the woman said, arching a delicate brow and eying him appreciatively. "Are you in a hurry?"

Ezio smiled in victory. "Perhaps not..."

"You can help us settle a dispute," she said with her throaty voice. "I bet my friend here the first stranger to come along can race the course faster than him."

"I suppose that would be me," Ezio offered as he crossed his arms, suave charm on full display. "And, if you're right? What do I win?"

"Perhaps," she said, eying him again, "a private riding lesson...?"

"Lend me a horse."

The silent man of the trio let out a heavy sigh and passed the reins of a prancing stallion over and Ezio couldn't help but grin at the irony. The soon-to-be-defeated man frowned heavily, his own horse panting beside him.

"Once around the city walls?" Ezio asked.

The two men grumbled their agreement.

Ezio calmed the stallion to perfect stillness, feeling the moment breathing in the cold, dry air, and then kicked his heels, sending the stallion off. Ezio didn't go for the roads, but rather the flooded fields by the roads, water spraying up on either side of him as the stallion eagerly rushed and leapt forward. He only took to the roads when he needed the bridges to cross the deeper waters and Ezio made sure to actually take those at a trot instead, giving the people time to get out of the way before he was off the road again and sticking close to the city walls. He leaped fences, stone or wood, and left waves of water in his wake as he kept going around the city wall. At one point, he plowed through a small group of city guards, who shouted curses after him, but he was already a speck on the horizon before they could even organize enough to get to their own horses.

It was exhilarating, being able to just race a horse like this without the Spaniard's men trying to kill him.

He arrived back where he started and leapt off the horse with a flourish, landing in front of the woman who jumped back, startled, then laughed.

"Where did the others go?" he asked.

"Home with their tails between their legs. They couldn't stand to be beat," she said with her throaty voice. "Your friend said he'd meet you at the docks. Nicely done, Messere..."

"Call me Ezio," he replied, with a mischievous smile. "I still have some time for that private lesson."

"It will be my pleasure, Ezio. Call me Amelia..." She pulled him to an old barn and up to the hayloft. Ezio had to admit, her throaty voice was just wonderful to listen to as he lifted her skirts to explore the moist tightness of Fast forward! Now! and Ezio sat back with a contented sigh.

"Ezio," Amelia moaned. "If you're ever in Forli again, come find me."

"I just might," Ezio replied, caressing her face gently. "But I really must be going."

Amelia reached out and ran a hand over his chest. "Must you?"

He kissed his fingers and put them to her lips. She blushed even more and then pouted. Ezio stood, pulling up his pants and rearranging his clothes while she stayed naked in the hay.

He dropped back down, feeling warm. The ladies he'd spoken to in the square were right. That was a good way to stay warm.

The roads were still damp as he made his way north to the piers, but, as Amelia had said, he was almost there. Ezio found Leonardo still with the wagon, sketching something.

"Leonardo," Ezio said, somewhat surprised that Leonardo was still there. "Why aren't you loading all your things onto the ship?"

Leonardo scowled to Ezio, and let out a frustrated sigh. "It seems that this Avamposto Veneziano has already had their ship set sail this morning. It seems I was late because I was waiting for a peacock who was strutting around for some pretty thing."

Ezio ducked his head and held back a chuckle. "I'm sorry my friend. I didn't mean for us to miss the boat. Do you know when the next ship will sail?"

"The next one large enough for all my 'junk' will arrive three days from now."

Ezio shrugged. "If we arrive back in Forli through north gate this time, I think we should be safe. Riario should suspect we've left by now." He climbed back into the wagon. "At least we can stay at the same inn this time and explore the city."

Leonardo brightened out of his irritated huff instantly and smiled. "Sounds like a good idea my friend." Flicking the reins, they turned and headed back to Forli. "I was looking through some of your sketches."

"I thought you were sketching."

"Oh no, I've noticed you've improved in scale and proportion but some of your details need work. I'd recommend..."

Ezio smiled as he took them back to town.

The following day, Ezio and Leonardo played tourists, wandering around the town, asking questions about the history and events of import, Leonardo studying the unique city walls with their rounded corner posts and roofs as he theorized why certain materials were used, especially when the history of flooding was explained. Ezio, however, was keeping an eye on the local guard and looking at various routes he could use to get to the roofs.

One of the most interesting structures, one that Leonardo had to sit down and sketch, was the Rocca di Ravaldino, built only a decade ago by the bloodthirsty Pino III Ordelaffi. Construction for a new citadel by Count Riario seemed to have just been finished and Leonardo was fascinated to see how such a young structure already had signs of moss and vines, he was speculating on growth rates of certain plants under specific conditions, such as floods or more damp areas versus dryer settings.

"Come on, my friend," Ezio said, standing. "It's getting late and we should be getting back."

"Of course, of course," Leonardo replied, packing up his materials. "But it's so fascinating!"

"With you, all things are fascinating," Ezio chuckled.

"Oh, Ezio, look!" Leonardo pointed out across the moat. "One of your sketches, yes? I didn't realize you had time to draw while you were looking for me!"

Ezio said nothing, looking sharply at what Leonardo had pointed out. Tucked in a corner, but just barely catching the dying sunlight, was a skull in a triangle.

A tomb.

An Assassin Tomb was in that castle.

Something he wished to explore. He needed those seals for that Armor of Altair.

"Ezio?"

The young Assassin shook himself and turned away, walking back to the inn with his dear friend. "I didn't actually sketch that. You could say that that symbol is part of one of my research projects."

"How exciting!" Leonardo was beaming. "When can we conduct this research?"

"We?"

"You did say you'd like my continued help with your research projects, did you not?"

Ezio laughed. "I did indeed. We're going to need some rope."

Ezio stayed up late that night, getting rope, hooks and harnesses while Leonardo had a meal back at the inn. The young Assassin remembered Il Duomo and Torre Grossa. There had been a great deal of climbing involved, and the catacombs under the Santa Maria Novella were treacherous and ancient. The ropes would ensure that Leonardo was safe, since there was no talking him out of this. It was just a matter of being careful.

They left in the grey dawn, the day looking to be cloudy and threatening another cold drizzle. Ezio insisted Leonardo wear any waxed cloaks he had. The Rocca di Ravaldino was surrounded by a moat, after all, and it was winter and the fields around town were flooding. Better to have some waterproofing as they didn't know what they were heading into. They were also both wearing dark clothes.

A small boat took them across the moat to the tiny platform with the insignia.

"Are you sure, Leonardo?" Ezio asked this one and only time. "This is often dangerous."

Leonardo simply offered another bright smile.

"As you wish." He pulled at the eyes of the skull and watched as Leonardo's face was rapt in fascination and curiosity as something clicked behind the insignia. Ezio pushed his weight against the wall and brick door slowly pushed back. Leonardo darted in first and Ezio followed, pushing the door shut behind him.

"Remarkable," Leonardo whispered, lighting a small torch he'd brought with him. "I think we're down where they control the water for the moat. They use the flooding to regulate their own moat! Look at those levers up there, and the gates! Fascinating!"

But Ezio was looking around with his eagle, and spotted the tiny Assassin symbol pointing the way off in the distance.

"Hold the end of this rope," he said to his friend. "Put on that harness. If you fall, I'll be able to pull you up."

"Pull? Up?"

But Ezio, holding his own end of the rope, had dived into the moat below and swam across. Once he reached the wall, he started climbing up to a higher ledge where the controls for the gates were and shook the water out of his clothes. He secured his end of the rope and silently motioned for Leonardo to follow.

The painter was a decent enough swimmer, but a lousy climber as Ezio had to haul him up.

Leonardo looked to the gate controls and Ezio started tracing the path he'd take up.

"But where can we go from here?" Leonardo asked quietly. "We can't go up. Where's the ladder?"

"They probably only bring out the ladder when they need it," Ezio whispered back. "The dampness would rot the wood and it would be an easy way in for any intruders."

"Like us?" Leonardo said wryly.

Ezio chuckled. His hands were dry enough now, so he swiftly started to climb the braces up to what would likely be a guarded area. Leonardo hissed in surprise as Ezio quickly ascended. At the top, he carefully peeked his head up to see the back of a guard. Ezio immediately switched to his special sight, but saw no other guards around. He offered a silent Requiescat in Pace, and stabbed the man with his hidden blade and yanked the man back, letting him fall down to the ledge below. Leonardo let out a startled yelp but Ezio was over the rail and securing his rope once more for his friend to climb.

Leonardo climbed up, without his torch, and looked around. "Typical pragmatic guard house," he grumbled quietly. "Do these guards not have any sense of style?"

Ezio held in a chuckle, switching sight again to find the next pointer.

Going through the guardhouse was delicate work, but Ezio was surprised with how many alcoves he and Leonardo could hide behind until a passing guard was gone, grumbling about the weather and dampness. He kept his eagle aware, looking for the Assassin symbols that always pointed the way.

"Ezio, how do you know where to go?" Leonardo asked quietly after Ezio hauled him up to another balcony to avoid the guard going up the stairs.

The young Assassin grinned, and ran his hand over the stylized compass in a cup that was pointing up.

Leonardo looked to Ezio; his brows raised high. "You've sharper eyes than I thought."

Ezio only chuckled. "Come on."

They continued through the guardhouse until they reached the upper floors of a stable. The guards were more plentiful here, as it seemed it was time to switch patrols and people were relaxing and talking before riding out.

Ezio regretfully pulled out his throwing knives. He did not wish to kill these people. Not with Riario in charge here, but he didn't see another option. The stables were open and the upper floors had only a low railing to hide behind.

Behind Leonardo only nodded grimly.

They both stayed to the upper levels of the stable, Ezio killing guards up here and hiding them around corners, trying to avoid any below seeing them. The horses down below made enough noise that any who did cry out in surprise weren't heard, to Ezio and Leonardo's relief. At last, Ezio looked up and saw an opening that would most likely be to the tomb, an insignia barely seen below a shield pointing up to it.

Ezio climbed up and then pulled up Leonardo. Through another hidden door, they found the tomb of Qulan Gal, the bowman who killed Genghis Khan. His sarcophagus lay on a large red carpet lined with gold tassels and threading on a raised dais under a statue exactly the same as the one in the Sanctuary, like all other tombs Ezio had come across. Ancient looking flags were hanging with the seal of a bow and arrow adorning them, swaying gently. In the midmorning light, treasures and antiquities glinted and shined.

Ezio stepped up to the statue and bowed. He then pushed open the sarcophagus and looked to the wrapped corpse covered in a red sash and removed the seal.

"Grazie," he said quietly, bowing again.

Ezio wasn't sure if he was really a believer in the Church, not after all he'd seen, but this place... was holy. In its own way.

Leonardo, having let Ezio have his moment, stepped forward, examining the trinkets and curious, eyes alight in curiosity.

"Look at this, Ezio! This must be from the east! Possibly beyond the Ottomans! But its age! How remarkable."

Ezio gave a soft chuckle, opening the wooden door set in the floor, out of sight of the tomb's splendor.

"Leonardo?"

The painter gave a mournful sigh. "Yes, yes. I suppose people would ask where we got such things." He walked over and looked at the hole in the floor with some skepticism.

"Ezio?"

"We'll end up outside in the moat, most likely. A quick escape that cannot be traversed the other direction."

"Ah! How exciting!"

The following day, Ezio and Leonardo were once again in Leonardo's new wagon and heading out of Forli up to the docks of the Avamposto Veneziano. The outpost was one of hundreds, thousands possibly, that the Venetians had set up along their trade routes to protect their ships and ferries from the Turks and pirates and any other threats. It was also good for ships that needed to re-supply to have such regular stopping points.

As they parked their wagon, handing the reigns over to a dockworker to start unloading the cargo, Leonardo turned.

"I don't think I've said this yet. Thank you Ezio, you saved my life."

Ezio shrugged and smiled. "I did what had to be done. You would have done the same."

"I doubt it," the painter chuckled, rubbing his neck against the cold drizzle. "Bravery is not my strong suit. I owe you a debt, brother."

"It's nothing." Ezio patted Leonardo's shoulder. "You help me in innumerous other ways. The least I can do is save you from the trouble I drop on you." The painter looked away and Ezio almost thought he was blushing.

"All aboard! We're leaving soon!" a voice from their ship shouted.

"That's our ferry. Venezia awaits!" Leonardo's eyes were once more alight in excitement and curiosity. They stepped up the planks and Leonardo handed over some papers to the captain.

The captain looked them over and nodded, before turning to Ezio." Where's your pass?"

Ezio blinked. "What pass?"

"You don't have a pass?" Leonardo asked. "The Veneziano navy always has paperwork to go with passage to their lovely city."

"You cannot enter Venezia without a pass," the captain said firmly. "Who invited you?"

Really, Florence did not turn away visitors just because they didn't have a pass! Venice had no tolerance! "Um... Nobody," he replied.

"Stop!" the captain pushed Ezio back to the gangplank. "No pass, no entrance."

Leonardo stepped forward to intervene, but Ezio waved his friend away.

"Don't worry Leonardo. I'll come up with something."

Ezio stepped down to the dock and started to walk along the pier, looking at people and seeing who was going to Venice and why and what sort of paperwork he needed. The ship still needed to be loaded, especially with all of Leonardo's junk for his workshop, so Ezio knew he still had some time to figure out something.

As he came to the end of a pier, talking to a merchant about the necessary paperwork that Venice required, he heard a voice off in the distance.

"Don't just stand there! I need help!"

Looking up, Ezio swiftly called on his eagle to look around and see what woman was screaming so. Off in the distance, he saw a noblewoman, her hands cupped by her mouth, was the one shouting. "Dio del Cielo! Help me! Somebody help me! I can't swim! Help! Someone get me off this thing! Help me!"

Always one to help a lady, Ezio turned saw an unoccupied gondola and he hopped in. It took a few moments to get used to steering the damn thing, (it kept lilting off to one side if Ezio didn't row it just so...) but he made steady progress to the woman on the isolated island surrounded by flooded plains.

The woman was younger than him, than even Claudia, which likely explained her sharp temper and fiery words. She was also very beautiful, with red hair perfectly coifed with only the most delicate curls framing her face.

"Madonna," he greeted as he eased the boat to the island and gave a polite bow.

"Oh you're good," the woman said, all cursing and shouting gone behind elegance and delicacy. "The ladies must like you."

Ezio shrugged, saying nothing one way or the other. "I wasn't looking to impress," he replied, bowing again and helping her to her seat. "Only to help someone in distress."

"Which is exactly why you impress," the redhead said softly, arranging her skirts in the small gondola. "And you are Messer...?"

"Auditore," Ezio replied promptly. "But please, call me Ezio."

"I'm Caterina," her lush red lips revealed a lovely smile. "Now, Ezio, we must find you suitable," she raised an eyebrow mischievously, "reward... Do you have any suggestions?"

Ezio admired her delicate shoulders as he rowed the gondola. She was a noblewoman, which meant she had connections. Hopefully one in Venice.

"There is, perhaps," he said suavely, "something you could help me with."

"I'm all ears."

Ezio couldn't quite hold back the chuckle. "Only all ears?"

Caterina glanced back demurely, letting out a low laugh of her own. "Oh, you seem to have an interesting... head."

"And your beauty makes it hard for a man to think with anything else."

"Oh, you're very good," she replied, looking up and down his frame. "But I have to wonder if you're words are the only part of you that performs so well?"

"Now, now," Ezio replied with his own mischievous smile. "Only an exaggerating braggart talks of such things with so lovely a lady."

"You just keep getting better and better. Here I thought true gentlemen were a dying breed."

Ezio smiled. "I must ask, however, how you came to be isolated in the floods?"

Caterina's serene smile and elegance disappeared. "An idiot I must live with thought I was acting irrationally and thought to teach me a lesson."

"Clearly," Ezio said smoothly, "it is someone unworthy of your very thoughts."

She laughed, then gave him a warm smile. "You've no idea how true that is. And you say it so sincerely. You're excellent."

"I never seek to impress," Ezio repeated with his most charming smile.

"And it's because you don't that you do so well."

They arrived at the pier once more and Ezio brought them up to the ship he was seeking passage on.

"Ah!" the captain yelled down. "No papers, no entrance! Get out of here!"

"And the favor you need is clear," Caterina said as Ezio hopped up to the pier and offered his hand. "Pity. I was hoping you were asking for something else." And, once she was on the pier next to him, she leaned in close, pressing their bodies together. Hidden in her skirts, a naughty hand traced the length of him and her bosom pressed up to his hard chest. "I really wanted you to ask for something particular."

Ezio only smiled. No doubt her naughty hand felt his reaction to her.

"I'll talk to the captain," she said.

Leonardo came down the gangplank, looking worriedly at Ezio as the young Florentine adjusted his cape to hide his reaction to the lovely lady.

"Ezio?"

"A moment, Leonardo, and I'll be joining you."

"Yes Signora..." the captain was hasty to say. "Whatever you say Signora..."

Caterina turned back with a winsome smile. "He won't trouble you any more. I... took care of it. "

"Thank you, Caterina." Ezio gave a polite bow.

Her smile grew and took the slightest seductive hint. "Perhaps we'll see each other again. Should you ever find yourself in the city of Forli, it would be my..." she ran a finger along his chin, "pleasure to welcome you."

"I look forward to enjoying your hospitality," Ezio smiled back.

With one last smile, she ran a hand down his arm and walked away, once more graceful and elegant.

The captain stepped forward, bowing to Ezio as he and Leonardo walked up the gangplank again. "Please accept my most humble apologies, Messer. Had I known..."

"It's quite alright my friend," Ezio replied kindly.

Leonardo shook his head, looking over the rail to Caterina who was waving to Ezio. The young Florentine waved back as well, smiling with all his eager charm.

"Be careful," Leonardo laughed. "Do you know who that was?"

Ezio laughed. "My next conquest?"

Leonardo gave a small, halted laugh. "I don't think so, Ezio! That's Caterina Sforza, daughter of Duca di Milano. Her husband-"

"Husband?" Ezio looked up sharply. He had a specific policy on married women, and that was to not touch them. He couldn't stand anyone doing that to Claudia and he would never have betrayed Cristina like that.

"Si," Leonardo said with a smile of victory at knowing something Ezio didn't. "Her husband is Lord of Forli. That woman is as powerful and dangerous as she is young and beautiful."

Ezio leaned back on the railing, looking up to the cloudy sky. He laughed to himself. "Sounds like my kind of lady."

Leonardo just rolled his eyes.

Desmond blinked. Surprised to be looking up at the skylight of the loft of the warehouse. He could have sworn he was going to be in the Animus for another hour or so...

He looked over to Lucy, who was getting up from behind her computer. "Everything all right?"

"Better than all right," she said with a smile. "You're making amazing progress." Desmond couldn't hold back a smile as Rebecca unhooked him from the Animus.

" 'Amazing' is quite a strong word," Shaun grumbled from his station.

"Then why are we stopping?" Desmond ignored the British prick.

Rebecca, fiddling with some of the wires, hesitated. "Prolonged exposure to the Animus can have, uh, side effects." She looked away.

"Awesome," Desmond replied with sarcasm.

"It's nothing to worry about," Lucy reassured. She continued confidently, "You haven't shown any of the symptoms."

"Symptoms?" Wait, they had used the Animus enough to document symptoms? Suddenly sarcasm seemed like a woefully understated response. "What symptoms?"

"Degradation of cognition, temporal hallucinations, multiple awareness issues, overlapping realities, you know," Rebecca rattled off.

Desmond felt an involuntary shiver spill down his spine. He didn't want to go insane thank you. He just wanted to be an Assassin. He may have the training, he may have the know-how, but he wasn't an Assassin yet. He wasn't sure when he would be, but Desmond knew he was at least on the path. Assuming his brains didn't scramble of course...

"So what you're saying is..." he asked, hoping for clarification.

"What we're saying, Desmond," Shaun bit out, walking over, "is if you're not careful, you may not need the Animus to visit with your ancestors." The historian arched a brow. "Which wouldn't be a bad thing assuming you could control it. Up until now, though, no one has," he finished seriously.

Desmond knew what Shaun was talking about. "Subject Sixteen."

"We have safeguards, Desmond," Lucy reiterated. "And they kept him in the Animus for way too long, sometimes days at a time." She touched his arm. "We're being careful with you."

"... I hope so."

They had a moment of silence, as the heavy implications of failure were once more addressed.

"Anyway," Lucy changed subject, "I was hoping we could test out your skill retention. See if you've picked up some of Ezio's abilities."

Desmond easily snatched the offering. "I'm game."

"Great. Meet me downstairs after lunch." She gave a bright smile and headed out.

Desmond's stomach rumbled and he chuckled. "Lunch does sound good about now."

"My turn to cook," Rebecca said, stretching. "I'm gonna enjoy not being seated at a computer for a bit. After lunch I think I'll run a diagnostic on a few things. Make sure nothings building up or going to surprise me." She offered her own bright smile. "Down in the wiring, best part of the job."

Desmond nodded. "I was always partial to wiring myself. Couldn't stand learning about code."

Rebecca's face brightened. "Yeah, you learned it old-school didn't you?"

Shaun scoffed, following them to the kitchen. "Now let's not degenerate into talking in zeros and ones. Some of us like to speak proper English, unlike you lot."

Rebecca laughed. "You can stay at your desk and keep doing your research thing."

"Please. Like you could ever make a proper cup of tea."

"Hey," Rebecca kept chuckling, "I can make a better cup of tea than you can make coffee."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say," Shaun groused, heading to the kettle in the kitchenette.

Rebecca turned back to Desmond. "Hey, nice work today. You're a natural."

"Thanks," Desmond replied. "It's definitely getting easier. I gotta say – after all the crap I went through at Abstergo – It's nice to be with the good guys." Nice to finally work with people who cared.

" 'Good guys?' " Shaun scoffed as he spooned out his tea leaves. "Let's not get carried away."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rebecca retorted.

"In case you've forgotten, Rebecca, we're Assassins," Shaun replied with heavy sarcasm. "I could look it up for you, if you like. Basically, it means we assassinate people."

Desmond didn't know what had put Shaun in such a foul mood, but he decided to intercede. "Only when we have to," he said firmly. Firmly with the background of what he'd learned growing up, what Altair learned as he took down the Templars and chose to live by, what Ezio was just starting to realize. "Only when we have to."

"It's a choice," Shaun said slowly like talking to a child. "You're choosing to kill."

"I haven't killed anyone," Desmond retorted defensively. Seriously, what bug crawled up his ass?

"No. Not yet," the historian said coldly. "But what do you think all this is for, eh? You think Lucy is giving you Ezio's abilities so you can build schools in South America and deliver rice to starving Indonesians?" Sarcasm was dripping from his voice again. Bitter sarcasm. "What are you Desmond, a vegan? You'd be the first vegan assassin in history."

"Look, it's not ideal," Rebecca interjected, trying to diffuse the male testosterone that was getting to violent levels. Her voice was heavy with memories as she continued, "And taking a life is never easy. But sometimes there's no other way. Sometimes, Desmond, people have to die for things to change."

"She's got a point," Shaun's kettle was boiling as he poured his tea, anger drifting from his frame. "But don't fool yourself into thinking you have no say," he sat down near the door. "I mean, isn't it that what we're all about here? Safe-guarding free will?"

Shaun then proceeded to ignore them as he opened up a thick, ancient book and started flipping through.

Desmond shook his head and started opening cupboards, pulling out things to help Rebecca cook lunch. He was getting a little tired of instant, and he saw enough things that he might be able to make a light soup.

"Sorry..." the technician said, working beside him. "I didn't mean to make it into a whole big thing."

"Nah, it's cool," Desmond replied. Rebecca wasn't responsible for Shaun's sour attitude towards him. He decided to change the subject. "So, how's she treating you? The Animus?"

The change worked and Rebecca gave a small smile. "The translation software is still a bit laggy... It's what I'll be working on this afternoon," she explained. "You're probably catching the odd bit of Italian. Sorry about that."

"No worries," Desmond replied. "Abstergo's machine wasn't perfect either. Swimming seemed to be a big issue."

Rebecca smiled and they continued to make lunch, eventually sitting at a different table than the irritated Shaun. Down below they could hear the forklift being operated and Desmond was tempted to ask what Lucy was doing, but couldn't find the proper place in conversation to ask, so he let words flow around him, much like Altair would do when hiding from guards.

Still, the earlier conversation about how Subject Sixteen went insane lingered in the back of his mind. Desmond certainly didn't want to end up like his predecessor, leaving so much blood on the walls, but there was something about Sixteen that Desmond almost understood. There was a message that Sixteen wanted to pass on, and Desmond felt like he was on the precipice of it. But he couldn't understand why. What was the purpose of all this coding and puzzles? What did Sixteen deem so important?

"Thanks for the soup, Desmond," Rebecca leaned back from her meal. "We should have you cook more often."

Desmond shrugged. "Gotta learn somehow when you're living on your own. Frankly, I got tired of takeout real fast."

The technician chuckled and started to clear the plates.

Desmond glanced over at Shaun, who had been giving them the silent treatment for lunch, taking notes from his book and sipping both his tea and soup.

With a sigh, Desmond decided it was time to try and make peace. He moved from his table over the Shaun's.

"What could Sixteen have found that needs so much secrecy and security?" he asked, hoping to use Shaun's self-proclaimed decryption skills as a way to smooth ruffled feathers.

"Oh, I don't know, do I?" Shaun bit back. "Lucy thinks it's something about the Codex, but I'm not so sure." The historian set down his notes and tea and looked off into space for a moment. "I'm all ears, if it's as life changing as Sixteen says." His expression soured again. "Blimey, if I was allowed to use the Animus, I'd be the one in there finding out. Instead," he grumbled, "as usual I'm forced to sit here on the sidelines."

Desmond nodded, sipping his water and letting Shaun's mood wash over him. Shaun, as a historian, likely found the Animus to be a dream come true: A chance to really look around history, as it was, and see events unfold. To take the greatest unsolved mysteries, and solve them.

Desmond couldn't hold back the chuckle. The irony of a historian unable to use the greatest historical tool in creation, explained a great deal of the sour attitude. Not just that Desmond was the newbie.

"What are you up to?"

"What am I –" Shaun repeated with great disdain, "who are you, my mum?" He scoffed and shook his head. "I've been running traces on the Codex pages. Looking to see if any of them are still around."

Success. The British prick answered a question. Granted, it was clothed in biting words, but it was answered.

Maybe Shaun just spoke the language of sarcasm.

"And?" Desmond asked.

"Nothing concrete," Shaun said firmly, shutting his book. "Reports on one in the archives of the National Central Library in Florence. Maybe a few in the hands of collectors... probably Templars." Shaun sighed and took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'd send someone to check it out, but we're very short on manpower."

"How do you think the Codex wound up in Italy?" It had been bugging Desmond. The Codex had been written by Altair, but Altair was from the Middle East. "I mean... it seems so random."

"Dante Alighieri by way of Marco Polo," Shaun replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Desmond took a moment to try and remember who those people were, but drew a complete blank on Dante Alighieri. Marco Polo, however, he'd seen a show or two about on the History Channel.

"Seriously?"

"Something happened in 1321, yeah," Shaun replied, all sarcasm and biting commentary gone as he talked about the subject he loved most. "Now, I'm still working on making the connections. But from what I can tell, Polo encountered the Assassins while visiting Kublai Khan."

Desmond gave a disbelieving look.

"That's right, this must be when he obtained the Codex. Now, when he returned to Italy, he passed it on to Dante. Dante was close to them – if not an Assassin himself. Now, I have no idea what brought the two of them together... But I tell you what, I reckon we can find out." Shaun glanced down the hall to where their loft was.

"...I don't think Lucy wants us messing with the Animus," Desmond replied, disliking shooting down the historian.

"Hells yeah," Rebecca echoed from where she was cleaning the dishes.

"Yeah, you're right," Shaun agreed with an almost wistful tone to his voice. "We've got enough to deal with. I guess satisfying my curiosity will have to wait."

They sat in silence for a moment and Desmond hesitated to call it comfortable. He felt like he'd finally made some sort of connection with Shaun, and could only hope it would put a stall on Shaun's more snarky comments.

Down below the forklift was still droning on, so Desmond assumed Lucy wasn't ready for him yet.

Turning to Shaun, he asked, "How did you get involved in this?"

"Most Assassins, Desmond, are like you, yeah?" Shaun said like he was talking to a child again. "They're 'born' into the Brotherhood. Not me, though."

"Ugh, here we go," Rebecca groaned from the sink.

"What?!" Shaun said on the defensive. "He asked!"

Rebecca just shook her head and Shaun ignored her, turning back to Desmond.

"Anyway, I've always been fascinated by the unexplained," he continued. "There's something exciting there, you know, a sense that life is more interesting, more mysterious than we've been led to believe."

Desmond raised a brow. "So, what, you just stumbled across the Assassins?"

"No, I found the Templars first, actually," the historian said quietly, looking away. He looked back to Desmond. "Abstergo's a big company. It's too big, which means there were slip-ups, you know, like that mess they're having right now with the fluoride. Only I was tracking this stuff years ago. I must have been, what, fourteen? Fifteen?"

"You knew Abstergo was a Templar company?" Desmond was impressed. Assuming Shaun was the same age as Desmond, that meant Shaun was snooping things out around the turn of the millennium. Computers weren't that good back then, though there were always chatrooms and message boards talking about what hacker breached what security protocol. And what about fluoride...?

"No, not at first," Shaun corrected. "I just knew they were up to no good and I figured maybe I could do something about it. So I starting digging up everything I could on the company, posting stuff to news groups, trying to spread word, looking for people with stories to tell."

"You must have gotten Abstergo's attention," Desmond assumed.

"Well, fortunately, I got Rebecca's first," the historian said with the tiniest of smiles, turning to Rebecca. "Otherwise I'd be at the bottom of a river," he quietly added.

"You're welcome." Rebecca turned her head from the dishes.

"Yep, she tried to warn me. Told me I was messing with the wrong people." Shaun grinned.

"And what did you do?" Rebecca playfully retorted.

"I thought you were mental," he said with a completely serious voice and a teasing smile.

"But now you know better," the technician smiled back.

"Yep, now I know you're just a bit mental," he said dryly.

"Long story short, I saved his ass!" Rebecca bragged, wiping her hands dry and turning to proudly state her work. "Multiple times!" Then she laughed, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "Should've just dropped him and let Abstergo have their way."

"Listen to you, trying to be all 'bad-ass'," Shaun groused back at her.

"So what happened?" Desmond asked to get back to his original question.

"I have a gift, Desmond," Shaun said, back to seriousness. "I have a gift for seeing things. Making connections, like your eagle vision, you know. Only useful."

"We offered him a place with us," Rebecca stated, still smiling as she turned back to the dishes.

"Yes, you did, yeah. The alternative?" Shaun snorted, sarcasm heavy once more. "A life on the run from the most powerful organization on the planet. I decided to prolong my life. I'm eccentric like that. So I signed up. I've been doing research and analysis for them ever since." Then Shaun leaned in as though about to bestow some great secret. "Best part is, I love it."

Desmond smiled, counting it as a victory and noting that Shaun and Sarcasm could probably never be properly divorced. Considering the conversation closed, Desmond stood, stretching, and went to help Rebecca with the dishes since he had helped cook.

"Nice to see a gentleman around here from time to time," Rebecca thanked him.

Behind them, Shaun snorted. "Well if you two are just going to keep wasting time with idle chatter, I'll get back to work."

"What are you doing?" Desmond turned around. "Besides making database entries?"

"I'm keeping tabs on the other teams."

"Other teams?" Desmond asked. Then his mind thunked him on the head. Of course there were other Assassin teams out there. Desmond had been isolated for so long, he'd forgotten that he now had support. Support outside of these three people if he so chose.

Shaun didn't comment on Desmond's stupid response and Desmond felt stronger that he had somehow made a connection with the British historian. "The Templars have been hunting down the Pieces of Eden using the map they got from you at Abstergo. Luckily, Lucy has provided us with a copy as well, allowing us to pursue them."

"How's that working out?"

"So far, so good."

"If they find even one piece," Desmond said quietly, memories of Altair facing off with the damned Apple flicking across his mind, "we'll have problems."

"Oh, you're picking up on that, are you?" Shaun groused. "That is why we're training you. Once you've acquired the necessary skills, we'll be able to send you into the field."

Desmond nodded. Learning from Ezio, yeah, he definitely could see himself out in the field. "And you?" he asked. "Why aren't you out there?"

"I'm not out there 'cause my expertise lies in other areas," Shaun replied quietly. "And to be honest, I prefer it that way. But make no mistake, Desmond," he said, turning to him. "I'm an Assassin through and through. I've killed before. I expect to kill again. It's just that... I'd prefer not to."

Desmond nodded. He accepted that. Especially after the heated debate before. Killing was a choice. One Shaun preferred not to make. That was something Desmond understood all too well from his own childhood, as he looked back on it with fresh eyes.

Desmond shook his head. He couldn't hear the forklift any more so he decided it was time to get going. "Good luck with all your work this afternoon," Desmond offered the two of them, and headed out and down the stairs into the warehouse.

Lucy had indeed been busy with the forklift. The crates had all been moved and shuffled about to create an obstacle course, one that Desmond's eyes were already following the lines of, plotting paths and estimating jumps in a way that Ezio was just doing in Forli and that Altair did automatically.

Lucy was leaning by the forklift, studying her creation with a critical eye.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

"We're going to see what you've managed to retain," she said with a playful smile. "Come on."

Together, they walked the perimeter of the warehouse, Lucy explaining the jumps and climbing lines she'd made, based off what she'd been studying in Florence architecture while Desmond was in the Animus. She'd been measuring distances, checking heights. She couldn't make something as tall as a building, not with just a forklift, but she'd made do.

"Abstergo's out there, looking for us. They're better funded and better equipped," she explained. "So it's only a matter of time before they find this place. We need to be ready for them when they do. I turned off select defense measures. I want you to activate them. I'll let you figure out how to reach the sensors."

"Aw, come on. Not even a hint?" Desmond chided with a light chuckle.

"Open your eyes, Desmond," she replied seriously.

Desmond nodded and in a flash immediately started climbing up crates that Lucy hadn't even stacked, making her gasp as he swiftly reached the top and jumped onto the beams supporting the roof. Once there, however, he paused, feeling sick to his stomach. He looked down to Lucy, but there was something... wrong.

"Vieni qua! Bastardo, basta!"

"Non iesta! Prenderlo!"

"Vigliacco! Ritornare qui!"

Below him three city guards, or rather, their ghostly, pale, see-through forms, were running by and attacking... was that Ezio?

"Uh, Lucy..." Desmond called, feeling something icy go down his spine and grip his heart. "I'm seeing things."

"Do the hallucinations last longer than thirty seconds?" she called up.

"No..." he replied slowly.

"Then it's nothing to be worried about," she said calmly.

Below spectral horses galloped by, riders in heavy chain mail shouting, "Heide! Halten Sie auf und ich werde Sie rasch töten!"

Desmond couldn't quite stop shaking his head and blinking rapidly to make the damn vision go away.

Hallucinations, Rebecca had said.

Speak of the devil...

"It'll pass," Lucy said confidently.

The haunting images faded and Desmond waited, still perched on the ceiling i-beams, and stayed stationary for a full ten minutes. Nothing else flickered across his vision, and he hesitated before standing and going at a more sedate pace down the beam before leaping to a bar and swinging across to an upper catwalk. He spied a red light, one of the deactivated systems Lucy had mentioned, and swiftly turned it on, checking the wiring around the window it was attached to.

"So how am I doing?" he called.

"You've picked up every single one of Ezio's skills," Lucy called back in amazement. "The adoption rate is fantastic! Another day or two and we'll be done."

Desmond smiled. Less time in the Animus was always a plus, especially after that freaky ghost shit.

Glancing around the catwalks, Desmond saw another panel for a window across the way and swung back to the i-beams. He traced along them at a quicker pace than before, trying to put the hallucination behind him and then leapt to a ceiling light and then the catwalk to activate the box.

"All right, you've gotta tell me," Desmond called down, seeking more distractions from that vision. "Why Ezio? Why Italy? I mean, we could've just gone back to Altair again. Follow him during his early years."

"It started with Sixteen..." Lucy said, looking down.

Desmond paused, and leaned over the railing.

"Ah, good old Subject Sixteen," Desmond sighed. The one person he didn't want to emulate. "He repainted my room, y'know... with his blood!"

"I've been going through his files," Lucy replied. "Vidic flagged a couple of his Animus sessions. A bunch of different ancestors, different dates and locations... ancient Africa, the Middle East... but towards the end, he became obsessed with Italy. I think he knew about the Vault."

Vault? What Vault? Vault of what? Holding what? Desmond felt hopelessly behind again, but he didn't say anything.

"A few of the records of his later Animus sessions are missing," Lucy continued, "and the sessions that are there... After everything the Templars put him through..." Lucy looked away, "after everything I put him through... it's all scrambled. If we hadn't pushed Sixteen so hard, we'd have all the answers already... and maybe he'd still be alive."

Desmond didn't like the look on her face. Not at all. So, as he seemed to be doing all afternoon, he changed subject.

"So you're after the Codex and the Vault?"

"I knew you had an ancestor in Italy who was at the center of all this," Lucy replied. "We just lucked out that it was the same ancestor as Sixteen. Maybe we can find out what was so important."

Desmond nodded. Then he hopped on to the rail, leapt down to a crate and leapt even further down to another crate, before jumping across the distance to land in front of Lucy, who jumped back in surprise.

"Lucy," he said seriously, "what happened to Sixteen wasn't your fault. You were just as much a prisoner as I was." And when in those sorts of situations, there are no good options. "Don't blame yourself. You did what you had to, to survive. No one can fault you for that."

Lucy looked down, her eyes misting, before she gave him a watery smile. "Thanks," she said quietly, touching his arm. "I'm glad you're here."

Desmond gave her his own smile, and spread his arms, offering a hug. Lucy hesitated, but then came forward, accepting his embrace as he offered her all the support he could when he still wasn't a full Assassin yet.

He held her for a moment, then she pulled away. "Let's finish those defense systems."

"You got it," Desmond replied. "Then you're running with me again."

"Oh," she said archly as he headed off to where he saw another keypad to activate.

"Well yeah," Desmond called back. "You've been stuck in Abstergo for too long. When was the last time you were able to run a course like this?"

Lucy laughed.

Once he'd activated all the keypads, they took off to the obstacle course, Lucy keeping a surprisingly good pace while Desmond kept slipping ahead of her as his eyes tracked different paths than the ones she designed and using shortcuts to get ahead of her.

The sun was setting when Lucy, breathless, finally called it quits.

"I think we've done enough for the day," she panted.

Desmond was winded as well, but controlled his breath better.

"Sounds good. I wouldn't mind dinner about now."

"You have dinner," Lucy retorted. "I'm heading for the shower."

Desmond's brain produced a very nice picture, but he pushed it aside.

He rolled his hips and his shoulders as he made his way back up to the loft, not quite stretching but relaxing the muscles he'd been working out. He crossed the catwalk and entered the hall leading to the factory loft when everything changed and there were several guards standing at attention. He took a breathe, reminding himself this was a hallucination, but it felt much stronger this time; people were walking towards him so many people and he held his head because this isn't real this isn't real this isn't real a figure stood in front of him and gestured him to follow and the hunt was on...

There were...

He saw...

stallions galloping about people moving past him standing still in a street anticipation in his mouth in his feet in his stomach release needed release anticipation predator hunting loved the hunting great prey target chase the target chickens squawking dogs barking cookpots dieing smells everywhere salty air horses, stallions, running galloping there wasn't much time had to make this count energy bursting inside him coming to a head

What the hell...

He looked around, seeing European roofs mixed with intricate carpets wares for sale and guards changing shift.

Where is this...? Where am I?

A Roman arch unlike the ones in Florence and Monteriggioni and Rome but it was Roman from when their empire stretched all the way to the Holy city.

It's... it's Acre. And... Altair? How the hell...?

Evening was approaching the guards were changing and there wasn't much time he had to hurry.

I'm not even in the Animus, how am I living through this? I... I must have passed out... The symptoms Rebecca and Lucy were talking about...

No, no... Just having some kind of weird dream... Going without sleep for who knows how long... So hard to rest when captured or living in fear of it... Guess I shouldn't be surprised...

Around the streets not being obvious timing was terrible guards would be fresh off shift but it was necessary the hunt was pulsing in him and he had to satisfy the anticipation. He walked out into the massive square in front of Richard's citadel, long empty of the English king; the markets were closed not even stragglers were left which was to his benefit because only one person was there the most important person.

That must be his target...

The chase was on, into the citadel and up a ladder, darting over rooftops the target was very skilled as he had expected and the two flew over roofs and scaffolds and hanging planks, darting over arches and leaping past the tops of trees. Guards were everywhere but both participants of the chase were too skilled to be seen even at their speeds, above so many eyes invisible to the world, even the ones stationed on the roofs had no chance of seeing the Eagle of Masyaf and the focus of his predatory grin.

They leapt up the citadel wall and down its path, the target slightly faster for knowing the land better than he, and into the dark shadows of the tower, slamming the door so fast he nearly slammed into the sturdy wood at speed and the target would pay for that later. He knew the path, however, from his time assassinating William of Montferrat and so his hands sought the old handholds and he scaled the tower, up the iron rings and above the viewing balcony and up further still, to the very top of the tower where his target stood, waiting for him.

She was staring up at the moon, full and still climbing into the sky. With a soft, pleased grin she pulled her hood down and hey, it's the woman from Jerusalem. What was her name? Maria. Yeah. Wonder what he wants with her...

The two stood, staring at each other, and he could feel energy fit to burst in his body, his breathing becoming short, the press of time making him hungry and he stepped forward, when she gestured, coyly, for his approach. His body erupted in fire and he flung his arms around her, she reaching up to grab his face and their mouths crushed together whoa, wasn't expecting that...

Time was against them, he had to leave at dawn and she had her own assignment, and that made both of them less than tender, grasping and feeling and Christ fast forward... Fast forward! God damn it this is a dream, I have to wake myself up and not even truly bothering to undress. His teeth scraped at her neck and her hands teased him with shuffling under his belts and his coattails, searching for his manhood even as his own hands, all nine fingers, tugged at her hose and explored the folds they hid until at last neither of them could bear it and fuck make it stop I don't want to feel his love for her... Jesus he loves her, why does he love her? Didn't she try to kill him?

They rode each other, hard and fast, exploding inside of each other until neither one knew who was who; for they were one in body, mind, and soul; and connection like this could not be refuted and they wonderful together.

But time was against them.

The moon had climbed to its zenith and he was forced to admit he had to go, and she looked at him so sadly, not wanting him to leave, he not wanting to go, and he kissed her forehead, whispering her name, stroking her hair, their hands clasped until the last, before he finally managed to drag himself away. An eagle perch stood out on the peak of the tower, and he crept across it, looking out over the expanse of the city bathed in moonlight, the cathedral dominating the skyline. It was all dreary, because what he wanted was right behind him, and he turned slightly, offering one last, hungry, lingering, loving gaze, before he took flight and disappeared.

Wait a second... Why aren't I following Altair? I'm stuck here with Maria. She was sad but she was determined, she was an Assassin, now, and she would prove her worth. Oh shit! That must mean...

She... she's pregnant. I just... No, he just... and now she's...

This is one weird dream...

I... I...

Did I do that? Or did Altair?

Is this a memory?

Or just a dream...

Author's Notes: This chapter is best summed bu by our beloved beta, Tenshi, when she said she had a hard time beta'ing this because she just got so into it.

I could talk about Ezio and Leo, the decision to have them explore an assassin tomb together to solidify their friendship, or comment on how the tomb is strangely only a few years old, or talk about that terrible horserace memory that we tried to make workable, or our take on Caterina for later sequences, but really, this chapter is about Desmond. And the dream. And Altair.

This was, hands down, the coolest sequence in the game. It was so GREAT to replay Altair, and then to realize just what it says about Desmond's sanity, well, in short we loved it. I had claimed the right to this sequence early on, having no idea what I wanted to do exactly, but wanting to be the one to transliterate that scene and get everything across that I got from playing it. I had, at best, a quarter-baked idea (not even half baked, just quarter) about format, but between Tenshi's response and Mirror reading in and looking up to just say "Woah..." I think it was a hit, and so I'm really curious what you the readers - all two of you - think. It was actually because of this sequence that we/I chose to do the side-synching with italics falling in and out of the text back in the first novelization, and the "traveling" the reader takes from Desmond to Altair and then sharply back to Desmond... I can only hope it worked out as good as I think it did. It also informs some, er, other sequences that come up (I'm looking at you, Vault finale).

And as a technical point, I love the differences between Desmond and Ezio and Altair. Ezio would have been all suave and genteel, but Altair is so stick-straight his passions burn him to cinders on the inside. It was great to see and then write the difference. And Desmond, well, we get a tiny glimpse on why he doesn't like watching Ezio's amorous adventures with this dream. More on that later.

Next chapter, someone wakes up from that dream, but who is it? :D