TMWolf: Aaaaaaaaaaaand it's update time! Glad to know people enjoy when I torture my characters! Guess I should do it more lmao But, nah, that's probably the darkest chapter trigger-wise, but we're not done with the crazy yet. This is an easy chapter, though, so no worries. Lots of crying, though xD Kinda settling into a new schedule for my work and school, but still aiming for an update every other week!

Right, so thank-you for all your reviews! I love seeing what y'all want to say X)

So this chapter's song is from M83 - Reunion. Nothing to do with the actual chapter, but I like the song anyways haha

Enjoy!

14 – Reunion

January 31, 1501

Rome, Italy

Despite the winter slowly overcoming the city, Ezio woke to find his bed warm. It had not been that way for some time, and, briefly, he was perplexed by the fact. Memory quickly quashed any such feelings, and he opened his eyes to find the truth plain and clear: his wife, lying next to him. She was really there, and her eyes were closed, breaths slow and deep. She had finally fallen asleep at some point, though she still looked restless. Bags remained under her eyes and would perhaps for some time until she had recovered more. Though he could not see them besides the one of her cheek, he recalled the scars on her back. More memories flowed, and with them came the feelings, too. They had sown deep inside his soul, and now they had room to sprout and grow and gnarl their vines into his very being. Though she did not blame him—the Borgia were the true culprits—he took it upon himself to lay it on his shoulders anyways. He could not let her down again.

'And now, I have a son I cannot let down as well,' he mused silently, recalling his wife's words from the night before.

A son. She had named him Mario. It was a perfect name, and he knew it was what he would have chosen, too, after all that had happened. He was in his enemy's hands, though, which made things difficult. Possibly, that is. The Borgia wanted the child for themselves. They might not put his life at risk just to waylay them, but he could not hold onto that hope. They had to find some way to get their son back, and take their vengeance.

They needed to speak with Machiavelli and the others. Their allies needed to know Catherine was alive, too—especially Claudia and Maria. They had been hurt deeply by the loss, and perhaps the rift between them might be mended. He had been lax in trying to do so after he'd thought Catherine gone, and it had only grown worse when Giovanni officially joined Bartolomeo's ranks. He had done well, and was a prominent fighter, and it had been his choice, but Claudia still disliked him for it; even blamed him a little. He should have fixed things a long time ago, but he had wallowed in his despair at his own loss and focused on Roma instead.

Ezio smiled rather ruefully as he thought to himself, 'It seems I have a great deal to fix.'

Catherine's breathing changed, and she let out a sigh. He watched her eyes open slowly, moving rapidly. Her expression was that of surprise, concern, and then her gaze found his. Her body, tense but a movement ago, relaxed some, though not fully. He was surprised at the sting he felt, but suppressed it when she smiled—sincerely, he noticed. This one was different than the others; more like before. More like her. He missed those smiles and vowed he would make them return in full.

"I almost forgot what it was like to wake up like this," she hummed, hand running across the bundled sheets.

"I missed waking up next to you," he replied softly, reaching over to entwine their fingers. The feel of her skin against his was indescribable in the way it made his heart flutter. He desired to hold her close, but it didn't seem right in this moment. Not yet. That, and he didn't miss the unmistakable sound of a door opening further down—a sign his daughter was up and about. He chuckled softly, "Diana is awake… you should see her now."

A light he had not seen before appeared in his wife's eyes and she sat up, pulling her hand free. She made to pull off the sheets, but then paused, looking to the gear she'd set down on the chairs and vanity.

She frowned, "I don't have… she shouldn't see what I wore before."

"We'll find you proper gear later… for now you can borrow mine. It… won't fit well, but it will be something. Diana won't mind," he grinned, slipping from the bed to rummage through his dresser. There he pulled out one of his black vests and then found a pair of shorter boots pushed under a desk. They were definitely not her size, but they would do for now. He slipped his own gear on right after, keeping an eye on her as he did so—she only sat on the bed, watching him, which was a relief in a way—and then held out his hand once he was done. He smiled when she took it, sharing the expression with him. "Come, she's waiting. She's always at the bottom of the stairs in the morning. I lift her up as soon as I'm down there, but today… well, I think she's in for a surprise."

"Do you… think she'll be cross with me—for having been gone so long? You said you told her I was on a mission, right?" she asked as they came to the door. He paused there, hand lingering on the knob, and turned to face her, making sure their eyes met.

"She could never be angry with you. She… understands—understood. In her own way. She's just wanted you back as much as I have. Just… give a big hug, and even if she was mad, she'd forgive you."

Catherine chuckled, "Okay. Let's go."

He opened the door for her and slipped out. He made sure to place the redhead directly behind him, obscuring her from view as he approached the staircase as the end of the hall. Sure enough, Diana was there at the bottom, waiting for him. She had her back turned, giving him the chance to start coming down. He grinned and stepped aside to allow for his wife to go by. She spared a look—he made sure to give her a nod of reassurance—and she went onwards. When she came halfway down their daughter turned, mouth open to shout "Papa", but the words stopped short and became a gasp. Her eyes, so wide the white showed, began to grow wet, and even before Catherine got three-fourths the way down, Diana sprinted up them.

"Mama!" she shouted, throwing herself up to her mother. Catherine leaned down to catch her, falling back against the step. The young girl buried her head into her mother's chest, sobbing at once as she clung to the fabric of her shirt. The redhead only paused for a moment, heart beating quickly, and then wrapped her arms around her, too. She pressed her cheek against the similar red locks, tied back in a ponytail like hers would be. Ezio came to sit beside them, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. Diana continued to sob, crying out to her mother endlessly as her wish, at long last, came true. Her mother had come back.

"I'm here, my little one. I'm here. I'm back. I've got you," Catherine breathed, kissing her brow, and shutting her eyes. When she opened them again moments later, Ezio saw they were wet, though no tears fell. His wife held them in, but in their place was that same light before—the one that reminded him of the time before. A part of herself, returned. It made the night before almost seem a dream—no, a nightmare, but then the light faded some. Not entirely, but enough that her eyes dried, just as Diana finally pulled away. Her face was a mess, tears mixing with snot from her nose, but it hardly mattered. Their daughter was still beautiful and precious and everything to them.

"You—you're—r-really—b-back?" she hiccupped as Catherine wiped her face with her sleeve and cupped her cheek.

"Yes, I'm back. I won't leave you again, either."

"You got all the bad men?"

Catherine paused, almost a little too long—the light flickering—and then smiled, "Some of them, but not all. I still have some to deal with."

"But," Ezio quickly spoke up, worry flaring briefly, "she needs help to stop those men, so she's come back. Your Mama and I are going to work with the others to stop the rest of the bad men."

"So you'll stay? Like back home? You'll be here when I wake up?" the young girl pressed, looking right into her mother's eyes. The light briefly flared, and Catherine felt a warmth in her chest as she pressed her forehead to Diana's. It was odd, but so soothing to only hear her daughter's voice in that moment.

"Yes. I'll be here. I'll see you when you wake up every day. I promise."

"Good. Good!" the young girl bawled and her tears started anew. She pushed her head into her mother's breast once more, and Catherine was all too happy to keep her close. Ezio, too, was elated, and wrapped both his arms around them, too, his heart soaring.

Even if for a moment, things truly did feel like things before.

-O-

"Watch your step," Ezio called softly, helping the redhead step down onto the worn, stone path of the underground tunnels. He held her hand in his, not wanting to be parted in the slightest, and kept a torch in his other, lighting the dark, cold tunnels. His wife looked on ahead, brow raised slightly. The light from before lingered there, for which he was grateful; he had feared forcing Diana to go off with her tutor while they left through the tunnel would have made it dim again, but it managed to hold fast. It made the weight on his shoulders lighter, but it would never fully lift until they had put an end to their enemies and reclaimed their son. Only then, he was sure, the light would come back.

"These must be useful—the tunnels. The Followers would use their own, too," she mused, fingers loose in his hand, but not pulling away.

"They make avoiding the Borgia guards easier. I've managed to connect them all across Roma—some even to the countryside, although it's usually easier to simply go by horse by that point. Although, I'm relieved to find the guards are less… forward than before."

Her lip flicked upwards, "Been hard at work."

"I—yes, I have," he chuckled, though he felt a stab in his chest. "I did some before I went to get you—to make the escape safer… but after I thought you were gone I focused on helping the people and making the city safe for Diana, being Roma has become home now. There's only a few locations where the Borgia's hold is strong—that, or the French's, though Bartolomeo has been dealing with them."

"Bartolomeo? He's here?"

"Yes, among many others. We're going to meet them soon… but first Claudia and Mother. They'll be almost as happy as Diana."

Catherine laughed lightly, "Hopefully they won't cry as much."

"They might. It…," he began, but paused to turn towards her. He squeezed her fingers, smiling gently. "It will be good for them—to have someone back. We lost Mario and Ottavio and Federico… and now Giovanni fights with Bartolomeo. It's been… difficult for them, too. Not just for Diana and I."

"Ah… then it will be good to see them. I missed them, too. I'm surprised they weren't at the hideout."

"Just be prepared: Claudia has… taken up a new profession. She still runs a business—just… not one I exactly approve of."

"…Are you two… fighting?" she smirked slightly.

He paused, blinking, and the looked away for a moment, abashed, "Er… Just… disagreeing."

"I see."

"Let's go," he coughed, glad for the darkness, which hid his flush. He did smile, though, his heart skipping at their conversation. He almost had forgotten such talks—such jovial banter. She always did it in such a way that no one else compared, and while often he could match it, there were times he was but a novice. It was those times he enjoyed—especially when she would laugh at his predicament. This was like those days, and he hoped for more of them. He would make more of them happen.

"Who are our other allies besides Claudia and Bartolomeo? What of Machiavelli? You mentioned him earlier."

"He is on our side—as always. He's the one who's helped me to establish a foothold since the beginning. There is another… but I'll keep it a secret until we meet back at the hideout," he grinned, almost impishly, and was more than pleased to see her brow raised again. He chuckled, "I'll give you a hint: they're an old friend."

"Well, that's not too long of a list then," she quipped, earning a laugh from him.

"I missed your wit," he replied softly, squeezing her hand again. When he glanced back, he saw a sad smile on her face. He considered embracing her suddenly, but resisted in the end, and continued on. There would be time for that later. Besides, the trip to the Rosa in Fiore would not be much longer—just a few more minutes.

Due to the more recent repairs, the change in location became apparent not far from the tunnel entrance. They'd passed by other openings, but he knew the ways by heart now—and he'd carved symbols and signs to use as well, just in case—and so had no trouble coming to the more polished stone steps. To his right was a rose symbol, his sign for the Fiore. In about two hundred feet they found the stairs and torch holders on both sides, one occupied, the other empty. He doused his torch, which wasn't needed anymore anyways; not with sunlight beaming through the tunnel entrance above. He could already hear the clamor of the courtyard in front of the brothel, but they were bound to go unnoticed anyways.

"It's a little busy. The place is very popular, you see. You ready?" he asked, turning back to face her. To his relief, she nodded. He nodded back, and they ascended.

The sunlight was always harsh at first after going through the dark tunnels, but the open sky was relieving, as were the warm rays shining down on them. His ears had not deceived him, either; there was a good crowd amassed in the courtyard of the Rosa in Fiore. Mostly it was men, some already drunk, but their courtesans were mixed in along with higher ranked nobles eager to throw their coin at them. There were some guards, but they kept further off to admire the women rather than pay little heed to the two Assassins that emerged from the tunnel, the entrance set opposite to their post. Otherwise it was the normal crowd, and Ezio saw no signs of danger. He kept an eye on his wife, though, noting her every glance and twitch of her mouth. She looked fine, her usual self, although her eyes were more focused.

He decided to be at ease with that, and so led her to the door. He knocked three times as he always did and entered. The aromatics hit him hard, but they were pleasant as opposed to odious and were endearing rather than repulsive. The artistry of the decoration and design was as splendid as before, although he noted Claudia had been altering things—in a good way, of course. Not that he would admit it to her, but he could not deny it. A quick glance found the woman in question, and she turned in a timely manner as she always did when he came. Her gaze was haughty, too, and her mouth opened with a smart remark—only to drop to the ground as Catherine waved with a small smile, stealing the words from her mouth. Her eyes went wide and her hand went to her chest, clutching at the fine fabric of her dress. Tears welled, but she kept her composure and quickly gestured to them both. She also stopped a passing courtesan, whispered into her ears, and then brought them to a back room. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she spun around and launched herself at the redhead.

"Catherine!" she wailed, letting the tears flow freely. The redhead pat her sister-in-law's head gently, the other arm wrapped around her, letting her sob as much as she liked. Ezio watched on, glad to have given his sister this small comfort after all they'd endured. He felt it for his mother, too, whom slipped into the room quickly, but then paused with a gasp, hand at her mouth, when she saw his wife. She looked to Ezio and a trembling smile came onto her face as she grasped his hands. He returned the hold, nodding, and then his mother came to embrace Catherine, too. Claudia let her in, rubbing at her eyes, and used the moment to hug her brother. Despite their quarrels, this was a special moment, and so they managed to chuckle at one another as Maria cupped Catherine's face gently, just looking at her. The older woman's face faltered for but a moment, but then it was filled with joy once more.

"Oh, my sweet Catherine… you are really alive. I had almost lost hope," the matriarch sighed softly and embraced the woman again, kissing her brow as they parted. "Are you alright? Where have you been? How did you come by this scar?"

"Ah—Mother," Ezio spoke up, quickly coming over to wave away her questions. He glanced to his wife, but was relieved to see no odd changes. She still had her sad smile on, but there was an affection to her eyes. Maria looked far less at ease, but seemed to understand as he went on, "Much has happened, but… She's back, and that's what matters most."

"Yes, it is," Claudia nodded, seeming to understand as she took hold of Catherine's hand. "It is worthy of celebration even!"

"Please don't," Catherine chuckled. "I don't need that much excitement. Besides—there's still a lot to be done."

"Oh, my dear, come now. Surely you can rest—you must be exhausted," Maria huffed slightly, having noticed the bags that lingered under her daughter-in-law's eyes.

Ezio sighed, folding his arms across his chest, "It's just…"

"They have our son."

Claudia and Maria looked sharply to Catherine, whose gaze had darkened. Her hand had left the younger Auditore's, now clenched at her side. The two women looked to Ezio, whom nodded.

"Catherine gave birth while their prisoner, and they took the child—our son. We have to get him back."

"My God… to take your child!" Claudia gasped, shaking her head. She frowned, "But what can we do?"

"We need to summon the others before we talk of such things—the Fiore is not the place, and we will need the others' wisdom. I am glad you came to see us first, though," Maria replied, touching her son's shoulder. She looked to Catherine next. "Does he have a name?"

"Mario."

"Ah… A good name. It's fitting," she smiled back, though her gaze fell briefly. She refocused in a moment, "Have the others been summoned to the Isola?"

"I had pigeons sent before we came—they should be there soon, I hope," Ezio nodded.

"We should head back then," Catherine spoke up, a hint of anxiousness in her voice—or was it eagerness? Her husband understood, though. He was itching to get moving, to work on getting their child back, and finally bring an end to the Borgia. He only lamented it would not be as easy as they'd like.

"Claudia, Catherine, you go on ahead. I need Ezio's help with a matter. It will only take a few moments, but since he is already here I would have him do it now rather than have him return later," Maria smiled, touching her son's arm as she nodded to her child and daughter-in-law. Catherine turned and headed back out without hesitation, but her daughter paused, glancing between them. Unspoken words flew, and the Assassin felt his gut twist slightly. His sister left then, leaving mother and son to gaze upon one another, so much unsaid but needing to be said yet not sure if they could.

Somehow, Maria managed to let out a deep, mournful sigh, which she half-covered with her hand. She shook her head, glancing towards where the two other women had gone, and then back to her son.

"Ezio… she… what happened? Her face and her hair, and… Ezio, her eyes… she seems so… something is wrong."

"I know… She… she was hurt badly… terribly… I… she… she's hurt so deeply, Mother… and I fear… I'm so afraid she…" he replied, squeezing Maria's hand tightly as his head dropped. Her other hand cupped his cheek, bringing his eyes up, but it was hard with his heart so heavy in his chest.

"Do not lose hope. I am just… it pains me to see her so. She looks even worse than I when your father and brother were taken, and it worries me more," she spoke softly, but then her gaze grew hard. "The Borgia will pay for what they have done to us."

"They will. I have sworn it to her. I failed to protect her, but we can still protect our son—and avenge her. I… I just… the things she told me, Mother… What kind of husband am I?" he croaked, eyes wetting. "She was alive. This whole time—and I stopped looking. I didn't try hard enough. She won't blame me, but I let her down. I failed her. I didn't save her. I—I—."

"Ezio, shh, no. No, no, no, do not do that to yourself," his mother urged, pulling her other hand from his so both held his face. They moved to wrap around his neck as he embraced her, burying his head into her neck. She stroked his hair gently, letting him inhale deeply. "You did not do this to her. Our enemies did, and you cannot forget that. Do you not let your heart weigh heavy with that burden… but she needs you to help her now. She needs you to help her recover herself. Reclaim your boy and be rid of this blight upon the city—and our family. Bring peace to us—and to Catherine. That must your burden, but not the past. And never let your love for her falter. That, above else, is what she needs in this dark hour."

"… Okay. I… I will, Mother. I will," he spoke, murmuring into her dress, but his heart only felt heavier. He pulled away, though, his eyes visibly wet now, but he kept the tears back. She stepped away but found his hand to give it a quick squeeze again.

"Things will be alright. She will return to you—to us. I know it," she smiled, and he wished he could feel the same. "Now, go on; head back to the Isola and speak with the others."

Ezio only nodded numbly before he departed.

-O-

"Ah! I can't believe it! It really is you, my Lady!"

Catherine barely had time to grin as Bartolomeo lifted her up in a fierce bear hug, laughing merrily as he spun once and set her down. He kept his hands on her shoulders, grinning like a fool, but then frowned and hummed thoughtfully.

"You have a new scar now, I see—it looks good on you! Befitting a fine warrior!" he bellowed, clapping her arm.

"It's good to see you again, my boar of a friend. I didn't expect you here in Roma, but I am glad your sword is at our side," she replied back, smirking slightly as she slapped his arm. "Luckily for me, my husband seems to like my new scar, too."

The man winked, "Of course! But if he didn't, I would gladly knock some sense into him!"

"Luckily, that will not be necessary," Ezio chuckled as he walked up beside his wife. To his left was his sister, and across from them stood La Volpe and Machiavelli. The two men were just as pleased as the mercenary commander at Catherine's return, but certainly more shocked—and showing glimmers of worry, which they hid well. La Volpe used a smirk to shield his concerns as he came forth, bowing politely, and placing a playful kiss on her gloved knuckles.

"My heart is delighted at your return, my dear. Your charm and wit have been greatly missed," he purred, a mischievous twinkly in his eye.

Catherine laughed, "The same to you, my dear fox. You I am definitely surprised to see. Finally bored of Firenze?"

"Hardly, but even a fox must fight to protect his den, no? I could not simply sit by and ignore the wrath of the Borgia, so I brought my thieves here with me, and we are happy to serve the Assassins again. The fox may not be as ferocious as the wolf… but we can bite just as hard when we wish to. You can count on us to know the Borgia's every move—any secret of theirs will be yours."

"Good, because we're going to need your spies now more than ever. We'll need all of your help," the redhead responded, glancing over at her husband, whom did the same.

"As we all know, Cesare Borgia still has the Apple… but now Catherine has told me they also have our son," Ezio spoke up, and the three men looked sharply to him.

"The child lives, too?" Machiavelli half-gasped, eyes widened briefly. The redhead nodded when he looked to her, and, for a moment, there was hesitance in his gaze, but he continued on, "Then it is even more imperative we deal with the Borgia as soon as possible. I am reluctant to ask, and I do not expect you to answer… but what happened during your imprisonment? Anything to shed light upon his plans? We… assumed he used your attunement to the Pieces of Eden to extract information from the Apple…"

The redhead waved off his concern, "It's fine. And you're right. Before I gave birth he didn't visit me much beyond threats and convincing me all my allies were gone. Once our son was born he moved me to the prison where he had me touch the Apple. I don't remember much, but of what I do remember... A lot was mostly fleeting images and the burning sensation… but he became especially focused on a battle. He was speaking… saying how apparently no man could kill him. He became obsessed over it. Said how he would rule everything now. The things it showed… he looked like he would continue his conquest for a long while. With powerful weapons, too."

"Wait, the Apple showed you these visions—of the future?" the nobleman frowned.

"I think so. It showed me things from the past, too."

"So… what? Cesare is going to win?" Claudia guffawed, a sentiment felt throughout.

"I'm not sure, but the future isn't set in stone. I can attest to that. It was only a fragment of a whole, anyways. He could very well have died in the next moment," Catherine growled slightly, fingers tightening into a fist.

"Whatever the case, we will do all we can to defy him. Even if it is inevitable, we must fight them. We must reclaim our son and do all we can to free the people of Roma. That is our duty as Assassins, and we will fight even if it costs our life."

"A good speech, but do you have a plan?" Bartolomeo quipped.

La Volpe stepped forward, "You won't reach him on the battlefield, that is for certain, and if he is back here, in Roma… he will be in the Castel—"

"—which, is now under double guard ever since you tried to rescue Catherine. You will not be able to get in the same way you did before," Machiavelli interrupted, glancing between them. "We need a new way in, and even then, it might not be enough.

He paused to raise a hand to keep others from speaking, "You have done well to free the city from Captains and some influence, but it will always return at some point. We must do more to ensure the people can continue to be free."

"Even if we keep Captains at bay, so long as Cesare and his allies live, there will be no peace," the mercenary leader rumbled, rubbing his jaw.

"His death will come," Catherine spoke, her voice low and nearly a growl.

"And what of after?" Machiavelli inquired back. "His death will only leave room for another to take his place and subdue Roma again."

Ezio frowned slightly, "You're right… but it isn't anything we haven't done before. We must ensure good men—those who work for the people—gain positions of power… and we must increase our own influence again. The Assassins may have been dealt a heavy blow, but we are very much so alive, and we can rebuild to what we were. Become more than we were here."

"And you have a means to do so?" the nobleman replied, but his lip was quirked upwards slightly, in a knowing manner.

The Assassin chuckled, "Not yet, but I'll think of something. But first, there is much for us to discover still."

"Like whether Cesare is even here in the city or not—and how to get into his fortress. And if he's not here, we need to find a way to lure him back in," the redhead spoke up.

"If he's on the battlefield, my scouts will find him. We'll be sure to send his every movement to you," Bartolomeo nodded.

La Volpe rubbed his chin, humming softly, "My spies will do their own scouting of the Vaticano district… see if we cannot find a secret entrance or a loose link."

"And my girls can glean secrets from the nobles that court the Borgia and fund their exploits. I am sure we can find a way to strike our enemy there," Claudia added, a fierceness to her eyes.

"And my supplies and resources are at your disposal. I will do what I can in the courts to keep prying eyes away, but what do you two plan to do—especially now you we have another Blade to use against the Borgia?" Machiavelli chimed, motioning to the two Assassins.

"Though a great deal has been done so far, there's still much more we can do. The Borgia try to reclaim districts every day, and the countryside is still not entirely free," Ezio frowned, arms folding.

"Ah, yes, the Followers still elude us, and the French remain strong."

Bartolomeo huffed slightly, "I'm working on it."

"The Followers are only a matter of time. I've been hunting them down since Cesare removed me from the Castel. If you've heard of la Lupa, then you've heard of my work," Catherine added, earning quite a few sharp looks. "I know where all their Dens are, and I've cleared at least one completely. Their leaders elude me, though—the ones pulling the strings. They're not the usual scum that make them up—the lowlifes. Brigands. Murderers. Rapists. The ones giving the orders are of a higher breed. Perhaps even nobles. I haven't obtained their identities."

"Well, if they are nobles, that should be easy enough for my spies to find out," La Volpe hummed.

Catherine looked to him, eyes darkening, "Good. I want their names as soon as you have them."

"Ah… of course," the thief replied, a strange look about him for a moment.

"We will need more than their leaders to keep Roma free, though," Machiavelli mused, looking to the two again.

Ezio rubbed his chin, "I am… still thinking on it—we will need time to consider what is best. But that will give us all time to gather what information we need to bring the Borgia down."

"In the meantime… should we not celebrate the return of our lovely comrade?" the mercenary grinned almost impishly, motioning to the redhead, whom smiled.

"As humbled as I am by your offer… returning to Ezio and Diana was enough celebration for me. We can host a real part once the Borgia are gone… speaking of Diana… thank-you, Machiavelli," Catherine told the nobleman, bowing her head. "Ezio told me you took care of her in our stead for some time… we owe you a debt."

"It has well been paid in full, and she was a delight. Your boy was equally delightful to host, Claudia," he replied, nodding to the younger Auditore. "Should she need a safe place away from here, Diana is always welcome… and should you need anything yourself, my Lady… you only need ask."

"Are you sure you do not at least wish for a toast? It is practically a miracle you have returned to us. We had feared the worst all this time," the mercenary rumbled, folding his arms almost like a dejected child.

"And for that I am sorry—I thought you all were gone as well, and because of that I worked alone. I would have come much sooner, but things… did not go that way it seems," she replied, her gaze falling briefly. Ezio saw her face flicker—a bit of that darkness he'd seen showing itself. She was thinking of what she'd told him the night before. The horrors. His guilt gnawed at him again, although he pushed it back this time. His wife needed him to be stronger than this.

"Whatever the case, what matters most now is that you are back with us again, and we will be all the stronger for it," Claudia beamed, coming over to grasp Catherine's hand tightly. She turned her gaze to the others. "And now it is time we do our part in this war. Cesare Borgia will rue the day he struck the Assassins."

"Hear! Hear!"

La Volpe smirked, "Well said."

"Indeed, he will. Once we have any information, we will be sure to pass it along. And when you have your solution, I would certainly like to know," Machiavelli grinned slightly, and that was all that remained. All three men departed, leaving the Auditore alone in the main hall of the hideout. Claudia was the first to speak, sighing softly as her shoulders slumped, but then straightened and regarded her sister-in-law for a long while.

She hummed thoughtfully, "Before I go… how about I do you a service today and tidy up your hair?"

"Hmm?" Catherine mused, brows scrunching slightly. Her eyes widened with realization and she laughed as she touched at her uneven locks. "Ah. Yes. Turns out I'm not very good at it myself. I could use a more professional touch."

"Luckily, I have had a good deal of practice thanks to my girls. They all need their locks done every day, and I have become quite good at it. Sadly, I do not think you will be able to tie it back in a ribbon for some time… but we can at least make it look lovely until then," the younger woman smiled, reaching up to touch at one of the red strands.

The redhead chuckled, "It was a necessary sacrifice, but I'll be glad to have it look better. I'm sure Ezio would, too."

"I never said that," he huffed, bottom lip pushed out slightly. "I love your hair however it is."

"I am sure. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to make something out of these uneven strands. You should work on thinking up a plan. You are the one in charge. Unfortunately," she sniffed, turning her head up, although Ezio couldn't help but note it didn't sound as harsh as before. His wife, too, seemed to relax a little as Claudia led her off, but the worry remained, and it would always be there until this war was done.

Once the women were out of sight, Ezio sighed—deeply. Had he a chair nearby he might have sunk into it. Things weren't as he wanted them, and he felt more lost than anything else, but he just had to wait for information from his allies. With their help, he could save his wife from what darkness threatened to claim her, and with whatever solution he could devise to ensure the city stayed free, he would keep his family safe, too.

Now, all he needed was a plan.

14 – End

TMWolf: Right, so. Warning signs all around, let's see where it goes :'D

Also, probably most tears this chapter. Yay for tearful reunions! Also, totally getting things underway. AND. Shit is gonna deviate from the game to suit my story needs. You'll get my meaning next chapter, I think, and I'll explain more then. For now... until next update! R&R and let me know your thoughts! :)