Part Two

Chapter 12

Alexander Hernandez:

"We're in trouble."

Alexander's words bounce the dim attic room. Late as it is, the only lights come from the swirls, covering the attic in a purple haze that does little to actually illuminate it. So that most of the room is still cast in shadows.

Fresh out of the swirl, he wastes no time climbing out of the pillow pit. Only seconds from touching down, he climbs out of the pit before he can fully sink down into the soft pillows. And just as quickly, he's across the room, hands reaching for his cell phone before he remembers that there's no one to call.

Ken and Jen are currently both cities and a whole universe away, following the only lead in acquiring possible help and completely unreachable through modern means. With them gone, there's no one else to tell about the Apple and Al Mualim's sheer audacity.

Enslaving the world is one thing but practicing on the very people who would willingly give their life for him is a whole nother level of just completely fucked up.

"I…I need a drink," he says when he hears Mario fall into the pit. With no one to call and nothing he can do, he slips the phone into his pocket and all but sprints out of the room. Uncaring if Mario follows or not, he heads for the fridge and the beers within it.

The first chug of crisp, cool beer refreshes both his throat and his mind. The second leaves a trail of blessed chilliness to the pit in his stomach. The same pit that opens up from sheer dread as a horrid possibility no one has considered now makes itself abundantly clear.

Al Mualim can't control them.

Which, on its own, is all fine and dandy and, honestly, a huge relief. At least Alexander can be at ease with the knowledge that Al Mualim won't be able to enslave Jen or Ken or even their own world if he tired. But the fact that the Pieces of Eden doesn't work on them, opens the door to more horrible possibilities.

What if they can't use it?

What if—no, not if, but when they get their hands on one, they can't use it? Half, if not all of their plans revolve around getting their hands on an Apple of Eden and using it. So, what will they do if they lack the ability to truly wield one?

Or worse.

What if Al Mualim finds out it doesn't work on them?

There is no telling what lengths Al Mualim might go to discover why such anomalies to his Apple of Eden exists. And then, what he'll do to such anomalies when he comes across them. If Al Mualim ever discovers that Jen is completely resistant to the Apple, even more than Altaïr will turn out to be, there is only one way he'll react.

Extermination.

"We have to keep Jen far away from Al Mualim," Alexander says when Mario appears in the kitchen. The other man just watches him with something that looks like concerned confusion as he swallows the last of his beer. "Ken and Ezio too, just to be safe."

Because Ezio is immune too, in that small way everyone with Eagle vision is when they actively try to fight off the Apple's effects. Though, when caught unaware like Mario was and Altaïr will be, they've proven to be highly susceptible to it. Even if they can break the Apple's hold through sheer force of will, for a few terrifying minutes, they can be completely under its control.

All while remaining completely unaware that the Apple has even been used on them.

"What has you in a tizzy then?" Mario finally asks when he goes for his second beer, all without ever having shut the fridge. He twists the top of the beer right there, in the open door of the fridge while the cool air wafts out and glides over his overheated skin. "And pass me a drink, will you? Masyaf is hotter than I thought it would be."

"Al Mualim used the Apple on you," Alexander explains, grabbing a beer for Mario as he finally steps away from the fridge and shuts the door. It's one of those hip, new "clean beers" that boast about having no additives or preservatives which makes them safe enough for Mario to drink. "Well, you and the whole city."

"He did?" Mario asks, doubt in his voice and every inch of his face as he tips his bottle back for a long chug of his beer. Not that he really doubts Alexander. He knows him well enough to trust his every word, but it just seems so completely impossible that Mario wouldn't notice something so major to their whole mission. "Why did I not notice?"

Their trip to Masyaf had been for more than just sightseeing. It'd been reconnaissance. While Ezio has mapped out the city and the Fortress on his own already, a second set of eyes is always welcomed.

"The Apple has the horrible ability of not leaving behind a trace of it's presence in your mind," Alexander says, as the last of his second beer passes through his lips and leaves him horribly chilled. More than he was expecting as the horrible new possibility only makes itself clearer. "It can be used without its victim ever noticing its existence."

"How—"

Mario's question is cut off as three loud 'knocks' sound from the front door, stopping their conversation as they both turn to look towards the noise. The sudden visitor confuses Alexander, as the only person home, he isn't expected visitors, so it's only as the 'knocks' sound again that he moves to exit the kitchen.

"Give me a sec," he tells Mario, leaving the man in the kitchen with his beer as he goes to answer the front door. He makes it to the door just as the 'knocks' turn angry, urgent in a way that only unsettles him more.

As the knocking turns angry, he briefly considers pretending that he's not home. Nothing good ever comes from angry knocking. But the lights are on and he's standing at the door now, blurrily visible to his visitor through the oval stained glass that adorned it. So, with no other choice, he pulls the door open.

"Where is he? Where is that blasted boy?"

There is no greeting, no well wishes, only a blur of blonde hair as he's shoved aside and no other than Victoria Chase makes her way, uninvited, into his home. Even as he doesn't get a good glace at her as she rushes past him, he would recognize that voice anywhere.

High, haughty, and oh so self-righteous.

He has half a mind to toss her out, but that would only upset Ana more than she already is and he'd get another lecture about treating guests with respect, unwanted guest or not. So, instead, he simply closes the door behind her and turns to watch Victoria fixing to work herself into a fit.

"He took her, I know he did, so don't even try to hide it from me," Victoria tells him as she turns to face him, one sharp finger pointed menacingly at him. "Him and that daughter of yours took her and I want her brought back this instant, you hear me? I don't care where they are, they will be back by midnight, or I'll call the police."

"Victoria," Alexander says, something dark in his voice rising at the threat. It's barely there, mostly unnoticeable as he's nowhere near angry enough to offer a threat of his own. Especially since he doesn't have enough information to know exactly who Victoria is threatening, not that he doesn't have a good guess.

There's no one in this world Victoria dislikes as much as she does Kenny.

Still, it's enough to stop Victoria dead in her tracks as she stares up at him with wide blue eyes. No doubt she's suddenly rethinking the decision that put her in his house, alone, as she threatens his children.

"Why don't you take a deep breath and start from the beginning," he tells her, switching his voice to something soft and soothing. It won't do if Victoria decides to skip talking to him and decide to just follow through with her threat of calling the police on Ken and Jen. "Who do you believe Jen and Ken took?"

"That twice damned boy and your daughter ran off with Anissa," she accuses, finding her fight again as he appears to stand down. Voice once again angry and heavy with accusations she points at him again. "And I want her home before midnight, or I will call the police."

"And just what makes you think they took Anissa?"

"They went on a trip," she says like that's all the proof she needs to accuse someone of kidnapping her precious teenager. "Anissa told me that those two were going off on a trip soon and she hasn't been home since this morning."

"So that obviously mean they took her," he says, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. She flinches at the sound of it, visibly recoiling from his disbelief that she could come to such a serious conclusion from so little. "Look, I know how little you think of my children—"

"Your children?"

"Well, they certainly aren't yours, are they?"

It's a low blow and a horrible one at that. So much so they both flinch when the words leave his mouth. A tense silence falls over them then. One so horrible he has no choice but to offer an apology if only to break it.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he says, wincing when he spots a suspicious sheen in her eyes. Clearing his throat, he continues, "Ken and Jen left on their trip four days ago. If she's only been missing since this morning, there is no way they could have taken Anissa with them. So, wherever your child is, it isn't with them."

"Then where?" She asks, voice small as he has successfully cowed her with the one truth he shouldn't have known. But then again, there's no hiding anything from a private investigator, much less one who is good at their job.

"Try her other friends? Her school? Does Anissa have any afterschool activities she has to go to?" he asks, voice softer than it probably should be considering she threatened his kids. But he's weak to tears, always has been, so he shakes his anger easily and instead offers suggestions.

"She doesn't—Anissa doesn't have many friends. As for activities…her leg," she cuts the explanation off with a shrug, but it's enough. There's not much Anissa can do with that leg, high tech or not, it limits what she can join.

"Have you tied calling her phone?"

"It's off," she whispers again, hand fisting at her side as she finally shakes the tears enough to find the anger buried deep inside her. The very anger she directs at anything having to do with a boy who has done nothing to earn it. "I shouldn't have come here."

She's not wrong, but it's not like Alexander can directly tell her that so instead he just nods and heads to open the door for her. But before he can escort his guest out, he spots Mario heading towards then, a concerned look on his face.

"Va tutto bene?"

The Italian words shock him, more because they are directed at Victoria than because they come out in Italian. Just as shocked by the words she can't understand, Victoria turns towards the voice, confused but no less intrigued.

"Lacrime, bella signora?" Mario asks, voice soft as he approaches Victoria, who gasps at the sight of him in something that clearly isn't anything but awe, as he takes her cheek in his hand. "Perché piangi?"

"I—I don't," she stutters out, unable to put words together as Mario wipes the tear from her eye and smiles softly at her. This only succeeds to bring a blush to her cheeks. One that intensifies as Mario's hand goes down to take hers and pulls it to his lips.

"Tutto andrà bene, belladonna," Mario says, and Alexandra has to work really hard not to groan as he realizes just what is going on here. Of course, a charismatic Italian would hit on a soft, frail woman. "Non si preoccupi."

Not that Victoria is anywhere near frail but far be it from Alexander to be the one to tell Mario that. If Mario thinks he has it in him to go up against Victoria's deep-seated spitfire, fury then he's on his own.

"Mario," he calls, pulling Mario's attention from the clearly flustered Victoria enough to clue him into the severity of the situation. There is still a missing child to find. "Victoria's daughter has gone missing."

"Then what are we waiting for, my friend?" Mario cheers as he pulls Victoria's arm into the crook of his elbow and he begins to lead her out the door. "We must obviously help the beautiful madame find her child."

"Yes, but Mario, wait," he says quickly, pulling the man back before he can actually make it past the threshold. In turn, he also ends up pulling Victoria back. Flustered Victoria who only looks back and forth between them in confusion even as she allows herself to be led away. "Maybe we should change first."

"But of course! Silly me, we can't run around dressed as we are," Mario agrees easily, leading Victoria back into the house and sitting her carefully on one of the couches. "Aspetta qui, bella donna. Io tornerò presto."

"Wh—what? Alexander?"

"My friend, Mario, insists that we help you find Anissa," he explains, wary of the whole situation but unwilling to not offer his help. For all that Victoria has made no secret of her dislike for his children, Anissa is as much a part of his family as Ken. "So allow us a second to put on something more suitable and then well get going."

"Oh! Okay," she says, just as wary as he is as she looks Mario up and down. "I appreciate your help, but I must ask…what are you wearing?"

~oOo~

Jennifer Hernandez:

"We really fucked up."

Ken meets my whisper with sleepy confusion the next morning. Slumped over his bowl of what I can only assume is this era's version of gruel. Though porridge is probably the better word for it. Ken only manages a grunt as he lifts a spoonful to his mouth, a grimace already on his face before the spoon even reaches his mouth.

Not that the grimace has much to do with the actual taste of the food. For all that it's a simple porridge with little to no sweetness to it, it doesn't taste all that bad. So no, the grimace has nothing to do with the porridge and everything to do with the hangover induced headache I have no doubt he's currently suffering from.

"Here," I tell him as I rummage through my pack to pull out a pain killer and a bottle of water. He accepts both gratefully, downing the water in one long pull, he tosses the empty bottle into his own pack. "You good?"

"Yeah," he says, turning his attention back to his porridge then. Having forgone dinner last night, he's hungry enough to empty his bowl this time. I briefly consider giving him my bowl as well, but he stops me before I can offer. Nudging my bowl towards me he whispers, "Eat, we have a long day ahead of us."

He's not wrong. A full day of traveling waits for us. One that has us packed up and eating breakfast before the sun has even fully risen over the horizon. Not that we've managed to wake up on time on our own.

With sharp knocks and a slightly sharper voice, Ezio had made sure to startle us awake before he'd gone to check on the horses. Not even bothering with breakfast himself, he had only stayed long enough to make sure we were awake.

"Ezio's still upset," I whisper to Ken. Even though the room is empty except for us, I still keep my voice low as I slump over my own bowl and spoon some porridge into my mouth. "And I think Leonardo still is too."

"Ezio, yes," Ken agrees, pushing his bowl away now that it's empty. Rummaging through his own pack, he pulls out a small white packet of sugar from it that he instantly sprinkles into my bowl. My sweet tooth is well known, and I'm grateful for the extra sweetness as I dive back into my bowl. "Leonardo, I doubt. He doesn't know us enough to be angered by our stupidity yet. God, what I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee."

"Do you want me to ask for some hot water? I think have some instant coffee in here somewhere," I tell him as I go through my pack again. Finding the packet quickly, I had it to him as I stand to find some hot water. "It's Nescafé. Not the best but better than nothing."

"Yes, please."

I don't have to go far to find hot water thankfully and before long I return to the table with two pipping hot mugs of water. We mix our coffees in silence, both lost in our own thoughts, and more than a little hungover so that the first sip of our coffee tastes like heaven.

"What I wouldn't give for a donut," Ken mutters into the hot brew, tossing it back once it's cold enough to avoid burning him. Eyes still hazy from sleep, he allows them to drift shut as the sudden warmth from the coffee makes him shiver. "Or anything deep-fried really."

"Nothing cures a hungover like something deep-fried and spicy," I agree, drinking my own coffee slowly, savoring the warmth that spreads every time I take another pull. "But back to what I was saying. Ezio didn't come to bed last night."

"Of course he didn't," Ken says, eyes still closed even as the coffee helps him shake off the last tendrils of sleep. Stifling a yawn, he stretches, arms going high over his head as all his muscles pull themselves taunt, tensing, and more than a few joints crack. "He's sharing with Leonardo. Now that we're getting two rooms instead of one, there's no need for us to share a bed."

He's not wrong, I know he's not, but something about that stills sounds so wrong. Not because Ezio isn't allowed to room with Leonardo, of course. But because even when offered his own room in Leonardo's house he hadn't.

Granted, I had just woken up screaming my lungs out and had scared the nat out of all of them, but he hadn't taken the room. Rather than finally having a room all to himself, he chose to cuddle up with us in a single-bed room.

If that doesn't mean something, nothing does.

I don't tell Ken as much though. I don't get the chance to because Leonard takes that moment to appear. Carrying his own pack and box of supplies, he offers us one of his bright, though still sleepy smiles as he approaches.

"Good morning," I tell him, answering his smile with one of my owns as I raise my mug in greeting. The coffee sloshes dangerously in it, almost spilling as I've yet to make much of a dent in it with my slow sips. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Caafe?"

"Yes, Cafè," I tell him, realizing a little too late that coffee has probably yet to reach Europe. Though it could very well have yet to be discovered considering I have no idea when coffee even originated from. Sloshing some of my coffee into an empty cup, I pass it to him. "It's a drink that will wake you right up. Try some. Though mine may be a bit too sweet."

"Sweet things make life worth living," Leonardo says, plain curiosity in his eyes as he takes the cup. He sniffs it first, a tad bit warily, but whether the smell is to his liking or not, he still takes a sip. A careful, shallow one, but a sip none the less. Not that I would fault him for not liking it. Coffee tends to be an acquired taste more often than not. "It is good!"

There's shock in his voice when he says it, staring down in surprise at the coffee as he does. His next sip is less measure, more willing, and deeply please right up until the aftertaste fully hits him.

"It is a bit bitter," he amends even though he continues to drink, enjoying every taste as the left-over warmth washes over him. If there is anything I love about coffee, it's how it can warm you up even on the coldest of nights. Though it has nothing on Hot Chocolate…oh, hot chocolate.

Malik.

"It's low quality," I tell him, shrugging as I take another sip and try to shake off images of Malik, sad and suffering, and a quiet peace offering made over steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Of a man, abandoned and alone in the world. "The better the quality, the less it's bitter. Though I have to admit that Nescafé is my favorite because I'm trash."

"You're not trash," Ken admonishes me, a smile on his lips even as he does. One he can't hide as he scoops up the coffee and sugar from the table and tosses them into his back. "Even if your coffee preferences are less than tasteful."

"What's wrong with instant coffee?" I ask, my own smile on my lips as I drink the last of my now lukewarm coffee. It goes down in one last wash of warmth that I savor deeply, knowing that I'll be missing it as soon as we step out into the crisp morning air.

"The instant part," Ken teases, standing and gathering out packs. He even takes Leonardo's box of supplies as he does, easily toting it away as he leaves us. "I'm going to go load the horses while you guys finish eating."

"Aright, we'll be out in a bit," I call after him, watching him go with worried eyes as I do. Something like worry settles in my chest as I watch him leave. Though it's small and nothing more than a useless worry it still does.

"He will be okay," Leonardo says, catching on to my worry instantly in a way I wouldn't have expected if I didn't already know just how smart and observant the guy is. "Ezio is not as upset as he was last night."

"That's good at least," I mumble, still watching him go until he leaves the tavern all together, the door closing softly behind him. But the depth of Ezio's anger isn't the only thing that's worrying me. "Sometimes I wish he didn't have to build his walls so high."

My words are a whisper, more a thought than actual words so Leonardo never replies to them, because he never hears them. So, the rest of breakfast goes on in a comfortable silence that is only broken when Leonardo finishes that last of his porridge and coffee and stands.

"Shall we?"

"Yeah, I'm ready to leave," I tell him, stretching as I move to stand. While the beds have definitely been more comfortable than the floor, there's still much to be desired from this era's bedding. So, my stretch is as filled with cracking joints as Ken's was. "The sooner we're home, the better."

"What is it like?" Leonardo asks then, as we exit the tavern and step out into the cool, dewy blue morning of just before sunrise. The very same kind of mornings that I greeted on my trip to Jerusalem, with Altaïr at my side. "Your home? And the world you come from?"

Altaïr.

"It's beautiful," I tell him, eyes going to the east in search of a sun that only just begins to break over the horizon, chasing away the blue and bathing the world in soft gold. "For all its danger and bloodshed and war, the world is just as beautiful as it's always been."

"Just far more technologically advanced," Ken says as he walks towards us, horse reins in hand as he leads both of our horses towards us. Behind him, Ezio follows with his and Leonardo's, all of them saddled and packed and ready for the long day ahead.

"Te-co-no-what?" Leonardo asks something bright and eager as he does. His eyes are locked on Ken now, almost begging him to elaborate with his eyes alone.

Ken sees the shine in his eyes instantly, the kind of shine that speaks of a deep hunger for knowledge, and one that Ken answers with his own. Knowing that look all too well, I can't keep from groaning.

Here it comes

What follows next is the deepest, most detailed crash course in modern era science I have ever been privy to in my life. Followed by a similarly deep and detailed crash course on chemistry and anatomy and technology and everything that Ken considers even remotely necessary. So that the whole day is spent with nerd babble that Leonardo somehow manages to follow along, if staggering every so often under the weight of so much knowledge in so little time.

Its Ken promises to revisit anything Leonardo finds too confusing once we reach home that finally does me in. Groaning at just the thought of finally reaching home more than the thought of possibly having to relive this entire lecture, I slump over my saddle, more than ready for the day to end.

The sun hangs just over the horizon, only hours from setting and promising the sweet relief of sleep once it does. Not that we've even reached an Inn yet. Despite our early start, and very few rests stops, we have yet to reach another Inn.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'd rather walk," I tell them, practically begging for us to call it a day. Not that anyone pays any attention to me and my complaints. Seeing as their just as saddle sore and tired as I am, they ignore me.

Not that I fault them for it. Ken and Leonardo are too caught up in their own little world, talking and dissecting and discussing everything Leonardo either finds confusing or doesn't truly understand.

Ezio, for his part, still seems to be royally pissed. So much so that he's pulled his horse ahead of us. Though only just far enough to ignore us but close enough to be at our side in seconds should something come up.

Not that I can blame Ezio for his anger either. Ken and I—especially—have a bad habit of running off in incredibly ridiculous stunts of stupidity. So, I don't fault Ezio for his anger, not when he has every reason to feel. But that doesn't mean I can't try to fix it.

Stirring my horse into a slight gallop, I pull ahead from Ken and Leonardo and pull up on Ezio's right. He spares me a quick glance when I do but other than that, he shows no sign of acknowledging me.

"You know, I never asked," I tell him, grasping at straws as I try to start a conversation that doesn't include me desperately begging for his forgiveness. "What's my horse's name? I mean, I know Ken's is called Baldo, but what about her?"

"It's Oriana," he says, if a bit begrudgingly and I can't help but smile up at him when he does. For all his anger my smile must do something right because he sighs, body untensing and relaxing as he does. That the sigh is a bit weary goes unsaid. "It means gold."

"What does Baldo mean?"

"Brave," he says, smiling when he sees the frown I can't keep off my face as the explanation. Because that wasn't what I was thought the name to mean at all. "Were you expecting it to mean brown?"

"That or Chestnut," I tell him, shrugging. If someone names one horse after its color, you will assume he'd do the same for all of them, after all. "And your horse?"

"Alba," he says, a smirk already coming onto his face even before he can tell me the meaning behind the name. Though his smirk alone is enough for me to already guess what it means. "It means white."

"Oh, come on."

He laughs then, loud and carefree and I can't help but join him. Especially when I can see the stress of the past few days melt off him as he does. So that he's left loose and relaxed and the smile stays on his face long after we finally reach an inn and settle down for the night.