A/n: Hi!

I'm very proud to present, after three months of struggling to write this chapter and working through the aftermath of my flamer, Chapter 6!

Thank you all so much for your words of encouragement. They literally helped me work up the courage to power through this chapter.

I love you all!

- Trixy

P.s: At the advice of my bestie, listen to "River Flows In You" by Yiruma for Ken's portion of the Chapter.

Part Two

Chapter 6

Alexander Hernandez:

When he steps out into the open air, the world is darkening. The setting sun has turned the sky a golden hue that quickly darkens even more. By the time he makes it into the middle of the city, the sun has already set completely.

Aided by the tall city walls, the shadows have taken over the city well before the sun has fully set. The shadows darken the city enough that the torches have been lit long before the sun has gone all the way down past the horizon.

Despite the lit torches, the market stalls have been put away. Slowly, the city settles down to sleep for the night. The merchants pack up their wears, the shops close their doors, and the citizens shuffle home to tuck weary bodies into bed.

Well, most of them do.

Even as the night comes and the moon and stars light up the sky, the courtesans linger. Their giggles fill the quiet air. Soft voices calling, drifting on the wind to entice you to spend the night. Like sirens looking for their next meal. The guards still patrol, ever watchful of the city they've sworn to protect. And the Taverns, well, they never close.

With a grin he throws the wooden door open, allowing the smell of ale and the sounds of drunken singing to spill out into the otherwise peaceful night. Though the singing cuts off as he opens the door. All eyes shift his way, squinting and straining to land on him as they turn towards the darkened doorway.

The silence stretches, uneasy, but it only stays for as long as he stands in the shadows. As soon as he steps through and into the light, cloudy recognition registers in the few people who are sober enough to be aware of their surroundings.

They know him, after all.

He's practically a regular now.

The tavern is surprisingly full. The tables and bench hold an odd mix of civilians, off duty guards, and hooded individuals that he can only assume are assassins. There are women in the mix as well, lingering at tables, hanging off of arms, and nestled comfortably on laps as they giggle, charming coins off of men too drunk to protest.

Working.

"Alexander!"

The cry comes from the back of the room, past most of the drunks. It comes from where a man sits, a half-full drink in one hand and a beautiful girl on his lap. She's a petite thing, dressed in enticing ruffles and revealing skirts.

A courtesan.

One with auburn hair, ivory skin, and moss green eyes. Despite the smile on her lips and the giggles that spill from them, she watches him closely. There's no hiding the sharp look in her eyes as she leans in close to the man, whispering.

"Mario."

The man only spends a second to give the courtesan a very disapproving look. One that unsettles her enough to huff in annoyance and slip from his lap. Gathering her ruffled shirts around her, she stomps off, bare feet smacking loudly against the wooden floor.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" He asks as he takes a seat in front of the other man. A mug of ale is sat in front of him almost as soon as he does. The barmaid who brings it disappearing as quickly as she came.

"Of course not, my friend," Mario answers as he throws back the last of his ale. Downing it in one easy go, he slams the mug back down on the table hard enough to raddle it. "Now then, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"The children are away," he answers, simple and easy as he takes the first drink of his ale. It's thick, frothy, and bitter, with a taste that can only be described as liquid bread. Still, he drinks, swallowing until there's more than half gone. "All of them."

"Then it would seem that the perfect opportunity has finally arisen," Mario agrees, the smile already on his lips morphing into something secretive and cunning. Raising his empty mug in the air, he motions the barmaid for a refill. "And the Missus?"

"Duty calls," he says, finishing the last of his ale just as the barmaid returns, two drinks in hand. Service here is quick and efficient, the only aim to get you drunk enough to empty your pockets. "She won't be home for quite a few hours."

The bar is loud, noisy. Most of the clients already in various stages to truly piss drunk. A few of them are even down for the count despite that the night is just beginning. Their faces are plastered to the sticky wooden tables, empty mugs scattered around them.

The singing has started up again, but it's no longer the tuneless singing of a drunk. Now the notes that are sung are pleasing and accompanied by the soft strumming of a lute. Though soon it picks up pace, the beat morphing until the song turns into something that vaguely resembles modern-day bar music.

"While the cat is away?" Mario asks, just as a crash sounds. Its soon followed by shouting and curses but, surprisingly, the music doesn't stop.

It continues, beat picking up even more as the first fist is swung.

"The mice will play."

What follows next is a mess of spilled beer, overturned tables, drunken punches, and crushed everything.

The brawl goes on for longer than is strictly necessary. The barmaid's halfhearted attempts to stop the fight as ignored as the tables that crack under the weight of bodies crashing against them. The fact she throws a few punches of her own goes as equally ignored.

The few courtesans that have stuck around cheer the brawling drunks on. They sit amongst the mess, perched on tables and stools and uncaring of the chaos around them. They relish it. Pleased giggles leaving their lips even as more than a few of them are splashed by the spilled beer. Though they dodge the tumbling bodies and misdirected swings instantly. Fleeting out of the way of danger with all grace of dancers.

"Wha-what a night," Mario stutters out sometime later, after the fighting has ended and more than a few mugs of beer have passed his lips. They're busted, split open by a lucky swing, but if it hurts, Mario doesn't show it as he raises yet another drink to them. "You, you should come by more often."

There's another girl on his lap. This one has sun-kissed skin, carefully curled raven hair and wide doe eyes. They look innocent, deceptively so, but there's no hiding the scheming gleam in her eyes as she throws her head back and laughs.

Mario appreciates the soft and smooth column of her neck just as she wants him to. Ale glazed eyes follow the exposed skin down, down, down to the swell of her chest and the ruffles that only just cover them from view. Her laugh turns into a pleased giggle, body angling so she can take up all of his view.

"Definitely beats Ma-Masyaf," Alexander slurs into his mug. He's lost count of how many he's had but if the mugs littered around him are any indication it's probably more than he should have. "The bars there are depressing."

There's another courtesan at his side, desperately trying to get his attention as she all but throws herself at him. She's draped across his back, corset bound chest pressed firmly against his back. He shakes her off as he finishes his mug, the annoyance in his movements clear enough that she moves on.

"Poor drunk bastards," Mario says, pity in his voice.

"Yes, though I guess it makes sense considering that most of the drunks there are assassins who have been retired due to horrible injuries," he says, wiping the lingering ale on his lips with the back of his hand. It stings the open scrapes on his bruised knuckles. While he managed to avoid the majority of the fight, he'd thrown more than his fair share of punches. "But, trust me, the bars back home are better than even these."

"How so?" Mario asks, interest in the courtesan lost in the face of an almost challenge. After all, what could be better than Monteriggioni, his beautiful and grand city?

The home of the Assassins.

"The beer for one," Alexander says, making a face at the new mug of ale that's placed in front of him. "We have a variety of flavors and consistency, like apples and oranges, not just…fermented bread? The second one would be the gambling, it's much more fun. There's flashing lights and spinning signs and no chance of getting your face beat in if you win."

There's a table for gambling set up in the corner of the tavern, a set of weathered cards with it. The gambling is open to everyone, though the only ones currently playing are big and thuggish and probably better not to approach.

"Then there's the music," he continues, only just realizing that it has stopped long ago. Probably around the time the singer hand been accidentally caught in a punch meant for someone else. "Just better quality overall."

"Now this I have to see!" Mario cries, throwing back the last of his ale as he stands. The courtesans on his lap cries out as she is dislodged. Colorful curses leave her lips as Mario dumps a pile of coins onto the table, more than enough to pay for their drinks.

'Dave and Busters here we come.'

~oOo~

Jennifer Hernandez:

"When do we do we leave?" Leonardo asks some time later. After the food is gone and the plates are clean and all there's left to do is finalize the plans of yet another possibly crazy adventure.

"At dawn," Ezio decides quickly. Almost instantly before he remembers that Ken and I would probably like a choice in the matter too. "Unless you two wish to say longer?"

"No, we're good," Ken answers and I nod in agreement. As beautiful as Venice is, getting answers is the priority. Besides, as much fun as playing tourists sounds, I'm more than a little eager to get home for one reason alone.

What if I miss him before he has to leave again?

"What about contacting Minerva?" Ezio asks then. For all that he was the one who said we should leave at first light, he seems almost reluctant now. "She has not contacted you, yet."

"She can do it on the way home," I reply, shrugging because it's more than true. "And even if she doesn't, all I really need to do is take a couple of naps around Uncle Mario's Villa."

"She's not wrong," Kenny agrees, though he has a thoughtful look in his eyes. He doesn't share whatever ideas he's turning over in his head as he says, "so we really don't need longer than tonight."

"That is settled then. I just have to send out a few letters," Leonardo says, excitement in his voice as well as his face. He's got those big, shiny blue eyes on Ezio again. His smile is just as big when he shoots off his stool and scrambles to look for paper and a quill. "A notice of absence, just in case people fear the worst has befallen."

"Of course," Ezio agrees, fond eyes trailing after the smaller man as he watches him fumble about the workshop.

If there had been any order to the room before, there isn't any by the time Leonardo unearths a quill, ink, and paper from under the mountains of work littered around his workshop.

"Do you think this will ever end," Kenny asks later that night when we're both settling into bed in one of Leonardo's spare rooms.

Its quiet, dark. The candles have long been extinguished. So that the only light that filters into the room is that of the torches out on the street. Even with the light, the street Leonardo lives on stays mostly empty. Only the occasional sound of footsteps echoes, another citizen on their way home.

"Mmmm?" I mumble, pulled from the edge of sleep by his whisper. "What are you talking about?"

The night is fresh, cool in a way only a city on the beach can be in late spring. With a slight humidity that turns the air moist, cold, and biting if exposed to it for too long. Cuddling deeper into the blankets to fight off the chill of the room, I open my eyes to find him at the window.

"All of this," he says, arm going out to sweep the world outside the window. "The traveling, the confusion, the entities from another universe wanting your help but refusing to tell you why. Do you think it will ever end?"

The curtains are pulled wide, drifting on the wind as it sweeps in. The glass is thrown open so that the light of a nearby torch shines on him, bathing him in a soft yellow glow. A gentle breeze rustles his long, golden hair, playing with the strands.

He turns to look at me then. But, despite the light shining on him, his face is cast in shadows. Cover in the same darkness that slowly swallows the room.

It starts at the edges, crawling forward inch by inch until the room fades away and it's only us.

Then it swallows him too. It wraps around him, dimming the soft glow on him but never actually stamping it out. The light continues to shine through the darkness even as the darkness starts to shift.

Warping until it's no longer Kenny.

It can't be.

The figure that steps out of the darkness is too small, too curvy, and dressed in long, silk robes that wrap elegantly around her.

"The pain, the suffering, the endless death of the innocent, do you think it will ever end?" she asks, voice soft and curious as the darkness parts around her. It slips away like water. Clinging only to the edges of her skirts for a few seconds as if to draw her back into its depths, before sliding away completely.

She moves closer as she speaks, gliding across the hardwood floor almost as if she's floating. No steps sound in her approach, not even the rustle of her skirts reaches me. Everything is quiet, eerie. The only sound in the room is that of my breathing.

Once she's at my side, she perches on the edge of the bed. Folds down gracefully and lifts on long, elegant pale hand to brush the hair away from my face. Soothing it back, so nothing blocks her view. So, she can see all of me.

"I'll give you hint," she teases, leaning down to whisper the words into my ear. Her voice is smooth, like bells on the wind even as it turns harsh and bitter with every word. "Humans are cruel, vindictive little things."

There's a sneer on her face and disgust in her eyes when she pulls back.

"But of course, they learned it from the best," she says, the sneer turning into something prideful as she rakes her fingers through my hair. Yanking harshly when the long, unruly strands knot on them. "Why Minerva chose to save your kind is something I will never understand."

Despite the sneer on her face and the hate in words, she's beautiful. Graceful. Gorgeous and perfect in every way. Her nose narrow and her lips plump. The features of her face are all sharp angles and straight lines.

The helmet on her head only adds to her beauty. While Minerva's helmet had been a big, oval lump atop of her head, hers is small. Fitted to wrap around and hug her face. Adding to the sharpness of her features and ending in a long veil that drapes behind her.

"Juno."

~oOo~

Kenny Chase:

"Or do you think they'll keep us running in circles for the rest of our lives?"

His question hangs in the air. Heavy and brooding but the only answer he gets is soft, even snores. A quick look towards the bed confirms his suspicions.

Jen is fast asleep.

Tuckered out by the days of admittedly light—though no less straining—travel and lulled to sleep by the warmth of the blankets pulled around her and the comfort of a full stomach. It's honestly no surprise she fell asleep almost as soon as she reached the bed.

It's more surprising that he hasn't already joined her. He's just as tired and definitely more than a little saddle sore, but something keeps him from climbing into bed.

A longing.

A tug.

One that has him standing in front of the open windows and staring up at the moon.

It sits big and heavy, nestled amongst more stars than he has ever seen before and the dark gray clouds that threaten to block them from view. And, if he concentrates hard enough, he can almost make himself believe he can hear the distant sound of crashing waves.

It's a peaceful night.

Seamlessly calm and gentle as the wind blows softly, rustling tree leaves, and chilling the already fresh sea air. Off in the distance, he can hear the soft giggles of a few girls, pleased and enticing. Courtesans most likely, but even that doesn't dispel the feeling of a quiet night.

It adds to it.

Giving the night a pleasantly eerie feeling that makes the night come alive. Like fireflies in summer and quiet cricket calls. It makes it the night feel real, authentic, and not like the kind of dream it should be.

Starlit skies in Venice, Italy 1448?

With the little light pollution that comes from simple torches, the stars shine brighter and stronger than he's used to.

They light up the sky. Bathing the world in their soft blue hues and making the world seem like something out of a painting. Unreal and unattainable.

"Would you care to join me for a walk?"

Ezio's whispered words probably would have startled him if he wasn't feeling so at peace. As it is, he simply pulls away from the window with a nod and follows the other man out the house and into the cobblestone streets.

The air is colder out in the open.

The breeze stronger.

But he doesn't shy away from it. He basks in it. Loves how it seeps under his loose tunic, doublet left behind, and into his skin. He's never been much of a fan of cold weather, but now, when everything feels so surreal, dreamlike, he relishes it.

He takes in deep breathes of cold air and lets it remind him that this is very much real.

"This feels like a dream," he says when they pass under an archway and into a moonlit plaza. One that gleams under the moon's silver glow and sits right before the wide, open sea.

"Is it a good one?"

"I never want to wake up," he admits, throwing a glance Ezio's way.

Though his eyes end up lingering. Stuck on the image he makes, under the moon's glow. White cloak glowing the same silver as the plaza's white stones. It stands in stark contrast to the shadows of his hood. The one that makes all but his lips and chin invisible.

It makes him seem as ethereal as the world around him.

Like he's straight out of the dream Ken's trying to convince himself he isn't having.

"You could stay here," Ezio says, the words like a promise on his lips as he watches Ken. Even though Ken can't see Ezio's eyes under the hood, Ken knows they're trained on him. Watching Ken just as much as Ken is watching him. "With me, in this world, always. You do not have to go back."

"Are you asking me to step into your fairy ring?" Ken teases, finally turning away from Ezio to step into the plaza and towards the sea. The waves lap softly under the platform, washing under the floating city and through the canals.

"Fairy ring?" Ezio calls, confused before trailing after him. Only stopping when Ken does too. Together they stand on the edge, watching as the moon sits above the water, it's reflection rippling against the gentle waves under it.

"It's just a fairytale," Ken says, distracted just as much by the moon and stars as the waves that continue to crash softly. "If you step into the fairy ring, under the moon's light, and join the dance you'll be lost to space and time, disappearing forever."

"Will you join me for this dance then?" Ezio asks, teasing lit in his words even as he bows, hand coming out in a request for his. "So, if we are lost, it will be together?"

"But there's no music," Ken points out confused both by the offer and the way Ezio's outstretched hand makes his heart ache.

There shouldn't be pain here.

Not in this moment. In this offer of everything he hasn't let himself want.

"Oh, right," Ezio says, hand lowering, a small frown on his lips as something like disappointment fills his eyes. This close and under the full shine of the moon, there's no hiding behind the hood. So Ken sees the shine of disappointment before Ezio can hide it.

"Wait!"

There's desperation in his voice. He knows there is, but he can't help it as he snatches up Ezio's hand before he can lower it completely.

He can't dance, has never even learned how to, but that doesn't stop him. He rifles through his pockets, searching for the one piece of electronic his generation can't go anywhere without despite its current uselessness. And once he finds it, he hopes it has enough charge left to play at least one song.

It does and not too long later the gentle melody of 'River flows in you' fills the air. Soft and low so it won't carry any further than the plaza. So that it'll stay in their own little world as Ezio pulls him close.

The difference in their height is minimal. Only about an inch, two at the most, so Ken has no trouble meeting Ezio's golden brown eyes. They shine brightly under the hood, more golden than brown when the light manages to hit them in just the right way.

There's hand on his waist, pulling him into a broad, sturdy chest and another holding his own. It guides him, leading him into a gentle sway, one that probably doesn't even follow the beat of the song for all he knows.

But it's perfect.

Gentle.

A dream. As they sway under the moonlight, the ocean crashing around them and the stars high above. It's all a dream. One he lets himself live as Ezio pulls him into slow, swaying circles across the plaza. The rise and fall of the melody almost mimicking the waves until it slows. Drops and tapers off on one last note and all that's left is them.

Him and Ezio, one arm around his waist, holding him flush against a chest that feels sturdier than anything he's ever felt. A weight that won't give way, while the other hand anchors him, keeps him from floating away with the last note of a dream he's not sure he can let himself live.

"Stay with me," Ezio whisper against his forehead, lips brushing his skin like an almost kiss. "Here, in this fairy ring, until the end of time."

There's no other answer. None he can give without betraying everything he is. As he looks up, eyes catching Ezio's under his hood again, he knows there's only one answer in his heart. The only one that matters anymore.

"Okay."