TMWolf: Okay! Time for a new chapter! Updates were more on time, but school is popping up again, so not sure what the schedule will be, but I'll try to keep to it! Anyways... right, so. It's time to get the ball rolling, and you're going to notice something is... different this time around. Timeline-wise, from the game anyways ;) It just... worked out better for what I wanted. Also because UBISOFT MAKES IT SEEM LIKE EVERYTHING HAPPENS IN LIKE A MONTH BUT NO IT'S BEEN YEARS LIKE STOP.

So. Yeah. Enjoy :D

Oh, and thank-you for your reviews, everyone! It does my heart so good y'all are enjoying the pain and torture X)

Now, this chapter's song is actually from the Assassin's Creed movie! :)

15 – You're Not Alone

January 31, 1501

Rome, Italy

Claudia hummed as she combed her fingers through Catherine's hair, teasing out what knots she could find. It wasn't too bad, but some lingered in the deeper locks. The color had darkened some, and she'd found a mat hidden amongst the strands, but it came out easily enough. Her sister was calm throughout it all, sitting still in the chair in the spare room they'd found, set before a vanity. She stared at nothing in particular in the mirror' reflection. The younger Auditore, however, couldn't help glancing at her, noting the blankness of her stare. It was unnerving, but she kept her questions at bay—for now—and began to brush her sister's uneven hair.

"What on Earth did you do to it?" Claudia chuckled, doing her best to try and even out the mismatched lengths. "You lost so much of it… your hair was always so pretty."

Catherine chuckled softly, "It was a necessary sacrifice… it just so happens I'm not very good at cutting it."

"Indeed," she scoffed playfully and took up the scissors she always kept on hand—just in case of emergencies with her girls. "Now… I cannot guarantee it will not be even shorter after I get it all even, and you will not be able to wear that ponytail for some time… but it will look far better than before. It will be so strange to see you with your hair loose and to your shoulders, though…"

"It'll grow, so do your worst," the redhead chuckled, and let the younger work. Her fingers continued to thread the hair while utilizing a brush to keep the strands steady as she snipped here and there, doing her best to make it work. The much shorter length made it easier, but it was more than enough time for countless questions to fill her mind—ones she had to bite her tongue to keep back. Her worry gnawed at her, though, and as she cut the last wayward bit of hair and went about fiddling with her work she found she couldn't keep it back.

"Catherine," Claudia began, eyes falling as she brushed a freshly cut bang back. "What… what happened?"

She saw how the woman's eyes darkened, her gaze going somewhere else—somewhere far, far away. The air around them felt cold, and she briefly wondered if she had made a mistake. But then the moment was gone; Catherine's eyes regained some light and the air became crestfallen rather than malevolent.

"Nothing you should hear," she replied, her voice quiet. Before Claudia could press, the redhead stood and turned to face her, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank-you, Claudia. I feel more like myself already."

Catherine left the young woman there, heading back out into the main hallway. The younger Auditore bit her lip, fingers clenching so tight her knuckles turned white and her arms shook slightly. Her heart hammered in her chest and there were so many things she wanted to say, but they died on her tongue. She sucked in a shaky breathe of air instead. She forced her hands to release and return her scissors to her dress before she finally followed after, the unspoken words weighing like a boulder upon her shoulders. They grew even heavier as she spotted the redhead standing with her husband, Diana up in his arms. They were laughing and smiling, and yet, still, the light did not reach Catherine's eyes. Her daughter was unaware, and for that Claudia was grateful, but when she looked to her brother, she saw: the knowing. The realization. The heartbreak.

Claudia barely managed to spare Ezio a sad smile—one which he shared—before she could bear no more. She turned away, and, shaking her head in a futile attempt to be rid of the tightness in her chest, she made for the underground entrance to the tunnels and left.

-O-

"The city looks pretty from up here," Catherine hummed, gaze focusing on the vast landscape full of rooftops that mingled amongst the ancient ruins of the old Roma. The sky was clear today, giving way to the warm sunshine that illuminated the spot they sat upon. She leaned back against her husband, his chest serving as a pillow while his arms wrapped around not only her waist, but their daughter, whom was fast asleep in her mother's lap. His head leaned back against a wall of their hideout, admiring the city as well. More-so, though, he reveled in the feeling of his wife against him, and the silent, slow breaths of their child, dreaming peacefully.

"It is—and down below, if you get beneath the dirt. It's much better than it was, though. Before, I could barely walk the streets without worry—especially once they put a bounty out for me," he chuckled, and grinned impishly when the redhead glanced back at him.

"I really shouldn't be surprised," she hummed as she brushed one of Diana's loose locks back. "How long did it take to do all this?"

Ezio waited a moment, worried at the underlying meaning, but then replied, "Too long… Even after I tried to rescue you, I've still had to keep working to stop the Borgia from taking it back… but brining the others—Claudia, La Volpe, and Bartolomeo… it took a month, maybe two. Machiavelli has made it much easier, but it's not been a simple task, either."

"Harder than Venezia?"

"Mm… in some ways. Venezia, for all it's grandeur, was not as vast as Roma. The countryside is difficult to tame, and the people… while they are relieved to not feel the pressure of the Borgia as badly as before, they're not so easy move—to rebel."

"It's hard, when you're a prisoner," Catherine hummed, eyes roving the rooftops again. "They're weighing the risks. Better to remain compliant than to risk their life and those all they love."

"We need to convince them otherwise—prove to them the risk is worth it," Ezio rumbled, tightening his grip some as he leaned forward so he could rest his chin on her head. "Perhaps I just haven't gotten rid of enough Borgia."

"Even if you got rid of them all, the people would still be compliant. They need to be moved. To fight back."

"It is hard when the majority of the city is barely scraping by. All the rich remain mostly in the Vaticano."

"Have you been restoring things?" the redhead mused. When he did not reply, she went on, "Monteriggioni was weak when we first arrived… and though it fell to the Borgia, it withstood far more and grew rich and powerful because we rebuilt it. We put time and effort into it… Roma needs the same."

"Hmm… that is a good start. I've accumulated good funds… I could see about investing in more shops—perhaps even help rebuild special monuments. Lift the peoples' spirits. Let them know they have an ally," he hummed thoughtfully.

She shifted to look back at him more, "Exactly. Give the people hope—a leader to lead them in their rebellion. They need someone else to start the fire for them—to spark their courage. Then the Borgia will learn what happens when you beat down a dog too many times."

Ezio watched her closely, his tongue tied behind his lips. It was difficult to swallow, seeing the intensity in her eyes; how they looked far beyond him. It was that darkness that irked him, yet spurred him to fight harder, too. It was the darkness he hoped to vanquish, and prayed this was the right course.

"It will take more than just the people rioting… they're not strong enough," he replied at last, sighing softly.

"True," his wife huffed slightly. "They're not soldiers."

He went on, "But perhaps they can be more"

"You have something in mind?"

"It's… an idea," Ezio grinned, and the redheaded woman turned back just enough so she could shoot a raised brow his way. "We will need to call on Machiavelli for his wisdom, but… well, for lack of better word: we're going to build an army—of a special kind."

Catherine's brows scrunched together as she thought, taking special note of her husband's smile. He laughed lightly as the answer alluded her, and so he reached behind his head to pull his hood over his head. It took another moment before she understood, and she balked a little.

"You mean like us?"

"Yes. Cesare has his guards, but we… we will have our own flock. An army of Assassins."

"Now that, my dear husband, is a good idea," she smirked, and he laughed lightly.

All the while, little Diana slept peacefully.

-O-

February 4, 1501

Rome, Italy

"That is your idea?" Machiavelli scoffed, brow arched slightly, and hand rolling in a gesture. Ezio chuckled, sharing a short glance with his wife, and held up a hand for peace.

"I imagine it must sound strange, but… even with my wife returned, we are only two Assassin blades against countless Borgia swords. I have managed to erode the Borgia influence well enough, but now we need to bolster ours."

"And you propose to build an army of individuals like yourself. You honestly think the people are up to such a task?"

"The spark is already there, Machiavelli," Catherine replied, meeting the man's gaze. "The Borgia have taken everything from them. Beaten them down, hoping to smother them out… instead they make the people hate them more. All they need is a means to strike—to bite back at those that that take their freedom from them."

"And you will give it to them?"

"Yes—in a way."

"You can't possibly expect to arm the entire populace against the Borgia."

"No, not all of them," Ezio chuckled, and then motioned to himself and his wife. "Just the two of us alone have made great changes in Italia. Two Assassins. Now imagine if we had three? Or four? Or even five?"

Catherine grinned, "We don't need a full armada of soldiers. We need a small squad of Assassins like ourselves that can do our work, tenfold."

"It is not a bad idea… and I suppose you will train them? But then what of your work? You will put it on hold?" the man pressed, and while it was a little irksome to be questioned so much, they knew their ally meant well. He was to give them council. It was only natural he help them see any flaws in their plans—in this case by prodding at them.

"Ezio will continue his work—he knows the actual city far better than I—and obtain new recruits while pushing back the Borgia," the redhead responded. "I, however, will train them. I worked more closely with Mario and Ottavio than he did, and I also trained new recruits at times. Perhaps just to remind them to never underestimate the enemy, but I can do it."

"If you are sure," the man hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully now. "I admit, while I am… reluctant to agree, the idea has promise—but you have given me only words."

Ezio chuckled, "Don't worry, Machiavelli. You will see action soon enough."

"Then what else would you have of me? I presume you did not come solely for council."

"We would like the new recruits to stay here if they're able—within the hideout, or at least on the island or around it, depending on how many we obtain. I don't imagine we'll run out of room, but…"

"We need the provisions to arm them—ensure they have gear befitting Assassins. And we need to alter one of the basement rooms into a training ground still. It will serve for sparring at the moment, but we need more training weapons and dummies and targets. Bartolomeo might be able to help with that, though," Catherine added, hands on her hips as she walked back and forth.

"I can converse with him and see to the tailors and smithy. In the meantime, you two have work to do. Assassins to recruit… and Templar agents to remove—if only to help strike a blow to the Borgia," the man mused, a smirk daring to appear on his visage. The two Assassins exchanged glances as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a parchment. "It is only names, but I do not doubt that will be more than enough. They are not, I am afraid, a part of Cesare's inner circle, but they will hurt his assets."

"That's more than enough," the redhead breathed, practically snatching the paper away and opening it up. The names meant barely anything to her, but she memorized them all the same and then handed the parchment to her husband.

"Mm… I believe I've heard of some of these. It shouldn't be hard to find a trail," the Auditore grinned, stuffing the paper into his vest. "What more would you have of us then?"

"Only keep your word… and continue your fight for the people. Do not stop until you have seen this through, and when the time comes… promise me you will kill them. Cesare. Rodrigo. Do not spare them again."

Catherine's gaze grew cold, her voice low, "That you can be sure."

"Then I give you my blessing. Now, go; recruit our new novices."

Ezio pat the pocket that held the paper, "And perhaps take out a Templar in the process. Catherine?"

The young man held out his hand for the redhead, whom flashed him a quick smirk before taking it. Light flickered in his dark eyes, and giving himself a moment to squeeze her fingers gently, he nodded to Machiavelli, and the two Assassins ventured out into the daylight.

-O-

Isola Tiberina was bustling with life, people going about their day, be it the tailor or smithy or painters or just the everyday common man. They littered the streets, some rushing to and from places, while others had no care in the world. They went about their day unawares, all the while watched by the two hooded figures whom waltzed through them. They stood out, and yet blended in, and no one spared them a second glance. They were just another pair making their way about Roma—and no doubt keeping their head low in the event any Borgia guards decided to look their way. Despite the work of the Assassin, their presence always remained, however weakened it was. Indeed, contingents roamed the streets still, and pockets of swordsmen could be found in certain corners. Ever watchful, the Borgia dogs.

"Any signs of one of the targets?" Catherine inquired, eyes roving the streets.

"Not yet. Supposedly it's a man working for one of the thieves gangs the Borgia use against the people," he rumbled back, glancing up to the rooftops. Machiavelli's tip on the agent had said he'd been causing trouble up top in the poorer district, but so far there hadn't been much sighting of such a person.

"The Cento Occhi. I know them. They're like the Followers. I was never able to learn who led them, but looks like we can now make some headway."

"It'd be nice—they've been a pain in my ass ever since coming here. They're the ones that killed Madame Solari. Er—the woman who ran the Rosa before Claudia."

His wife raised a brow while her lip curved up in a slight smirk, "I see you're touchy about that. Seems to me she's doing well."

"She shouldn't run a brothel," he huffed.

"It's a business… and as I recall, you had a hand in the brothel back home," she hummed, and Ezio couldn't help pausing. A grin replaced his confusion as did delight, elated to see her give him such a quip—a small remnant of her old self.

"That was different… but I can't deny she is doing well… too well… Still, I worry. She's my baby sister…"

Catherine snorted, "Who's raised not only two boys, but managed an entire city. A brothel is nothing compared to home."

"Can't you take my side even a little?" he pouted, teasing her fingers with his own. She promptly pulled them away, waggling her finger.

"Not when you're being immature about it. What would the new recruits think?"

"That I'm an excellent big brother," he grumbled, puffing out his cheeks some. He waved off her snort with a chuckle. "I'm kidding… and I am trying to be better…"

"At not being so stubborn, I hope."

"…Trying. Can you give me one compliment?" he chuckled, and this time when he touched at her fingers she let him grab hold. Her eyes met his, and a small, sincere smile showed on her face. Even marred by a scar, he found the sight breathtaking.

"You're a good man—even after all these years."

"Thanks to you," he replied at once, hoping she could see the love he felt for her. Her smile went just a little bit wider, making his heart swell in his chest. It faltered, though, as her gaze flickered upwards and then her head turned the same way. He followed in suit and saw it—a woman, on the roofs. She was not dressed like a thief, though, and her movements were odd; unsure. Unsteady. She was drawing close to the edge of the roof on the other side, though.

"She's going to jump?" he breathed, already moving.

"No—look, she's stopped," Catherine pointed, just as the woman stood up on the edge, but went no further. Ezio paused, looking to his wife. "Didn't Machiavelli's notes say the target was on the roofs?"

"Think it's related?" he mused, brow raised, but she only shrugged. "Well, only one way to find out."

It was easy enough to avoid the Borgia's eyes as they found a way up, the poorer district providing many broken-down buildings with even more footholds to grab and clamor up. The woman wasn't on the tallest of buildings, but if she jumped from where she was, she could most likely die. Yet, she hadn't moved even by the time the two Assassins made it to the rooftop and approached carefully, Ezio taking the lead.

"Careful," he called out, spooking her a little, but not enough to stumble. She turned her head towards them, but did not jump—a hopeful sign. "I have fallen from my share of rooftops."

Her gaze fell, "I am waiting for my Lanz."

"On the rooftops?" Catherine inquired, moving on the woman's left.

"He left me after our baby died," she sighed, and then her voice grew harsh, but full of hurt, too, "Joined up with the Cento Occhi gang. They say that he kills now… pushes men from buildings! I tell them I don't believe it…"

"But you do…" Ezio replied, coming beside her now.

She sighed again, "I do."

"What will you say to him if he comes?" the Assassin asked.

"I will jump," she snapped at once.

Catherine frowned, "He is the one who should pay—not you."

"My death will remind him of the man he once was," she spoke, solemnly now.

"If your death is all that will remind him, then he's a man too far gone," the redhead rumbled, earning a sharp look for the woman, but she bit her lip instead of replying. Her eyes said it all, and even she knew it was true.

"Madonna… he doesn't deserve your sacrifice. Where is Lanz?"

"Up here… somewhere," she sighed, waving around to the rooftops.

"He will trouble you no more, Madonna," Ezio spoke softly, glancing to Catherine before looking out to the rooftops. His eyes fell upon a high spot and spared another look to his wife before making for it. The redhead lingered, eyes on the woman, whom had yet to move just yet. Her mind ran through all kinds of thoughts, watching Lanz's wife there. It was hard to place them all, but it was ones she hadn't felt for a while. They weren't as loud as the others, but they made themselves known now.

"Don't let him take your life," she spoke, and the woman looked at her, eyes wide and lip quivering. "Don't let him take you. If you draw breath, then you're alive. You can still fight—move forward. Never surrender to those that try to break you. Live."

A fire burned in her eyes, reflected in that of the woman—and then it was gone, the redhead spinning on her heel to catch up to her husband. He had ascended to a higher roof, his eyes scanning the city for their target. His Vision would find them easily enough, though he did spare her a look as she join him on the ledge.

"What did you say to her?"

"Words of encouragement. Did you find Lanz?"

"I think so—a glimpse of gold that way," he motioned. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Do you want to corner him?"

"If we can. Might be chasing the mouse to the cat."

"We've done it before. Won't be a problem," Catherine nodded and then motioned with her head. "Lead on. Let's take the bastard out."

"It's good to be working together again," Ezio chuckled, leaning over to place a quick kiss on her cheek before he took a leap to the next roof. She followed in suit, and it was like a breath of fresh air.

The Follower kept to the tunnels beneath the earth where the air was stale and full of death, and the walls threatened to squeeze you in. There was so little light and often felt like you might suffocate after the next breath. She had become accustomed to it in her months below, but now she had reclaimed a taste of freedom and it was sweet. The world was vast and open under the blue sky, and the hot sunlight warming the breeze that kissed her cheeks. A sweat dared to form on her brow, and air filled her lungs to the point of popping. It was so different and brought so many memories—and feelings. The voices were quiet, oddly enough, and instead she heard only the sounds of the city and her heart beating and their boots clapping against the rooftops as they made leaps and bounds across them.

Of all things, she laughed, as they came to a sturdy spot and Ezio paused to search for their target. He looked to her, surprise etched into his features, and then he laughed, too. Whether it was with relief or joy, she wasn't sure, but her mind felt clearer. It was a strange feeling, and she couldn't recall when she'd last felt like this. It was surreal. As if she were in another body.

"Huh," she hummed, looking at her upturned palm. It tingled a little, or perhaps she was imagining things. Her heart was certainly beating quickly, and things seemed so much—more.

"Are you alright?" Ezio called, and she blinked before looking to him. She chuckled, but nodded, and he smiled back. "Good. The target is close. You see that roof there? He's there. Behind the burned down walls."

"I see him. Barely. How do you want to handle this?" she asked, checking her weapons. She didn't have a Hidden Blade just yet, but daggers and a sword would do just fine.

"I'll lure him down—."

"—or shove him off?" she offered, earning a snicker.

"Regardless, I'll get him down, and you strike him if you can, or at least get him to where we can."

"Let's do it then," Catherine nodded, and Ezio began his climb.

For all his gear, he could be quiet—and quick—as he scaled the buildings' walls and ventured ever closer to their target. The redhead followed his movements, along with the Lanz character, and made towards one of the sides. It was just a guess as to where the bastard might go, but it was a good one: as soon as Ezio pulled himself over the edge of the roof the man spotted him. He gave out a rather pitiful yelp before leaping down to the roof below. He rolled to ease the impact and then leaped off towards the ground below. Catherine was on him at once, dagger drawn, and slicing across at his throat. However, he was lither than she expected. He narrowly missed death, the weapon's tip only making a thin slice that drew little blood. He cursed as he quickly pulled out his own dagger and bounded back. Ezio joined her then, briefly revealing his Hidden Blade.

"Good God… there's fucking two of them now! Shit! I didn't sign up for this!" he snarled. "Fucking whore didn't tell me I'd had to deal with this! Cesare can kiss my ass!"

Lanz turned and bolted. Ezio cursed and Catherine shot after him. Blood rushed through her, and her heartbeat hammered so loud it deafened her. The world fell away, the thrill of the hunt consuming her. The sounds of the city gave way for the voices, and that was all she needed.

The target shot back through the poorer section of the city, leading back towards the main road. He shoved through anyone that got in his way, some being slashed across the chest or arm if they didn't move fast enough. By the time the Assassins passed through the people had steered well clear of things, and with the growing commotion more were getting out of their path. Turns were getting tighter, though, and the streets smaller, and a bit more crowded. Worse still, red was among the people now and even they were beginning to notice. Still, Catherine hounded after the man, always just a step out of reach. He was swifter than he looked, and he knew the city streets well.

As such, it was only by luck that he slammed right into a young man that had been shoved backwards. He had a sword drawn, but it clattered out of his grasp as Lanz toppled down with him, losing his own weapon. He was dazed briefly, and it spelled his end: Catherine leapt upon the Cento Occhi gang member and slammed the dagger into his throat. She made sure it went all the way to the hilt, her face close to his. She watched as he gagged on blood, his eyes bulging from the sockets as he arched. He gurgled and coughed, not yet dead, but soon to be with each breath drowning in red.

"Go to hell where scum like you belongs, you bastard," she hissed, low and guttural, and the fire flowing through her was intoxicating. "May you burn with the rest of the Borgia."

"Catherine!"

The redhead's gaze shot to her husband, whom had drawn his blade. He was not looking to her, though, but to a group of men—of soldiers—just beyond. Her hazel eyes met dark ones, wide and full of undoubtedly shock. It was shaken off, though, as they drew their swords and spat their curses. To their right, the young man from before had reclaimed his sword, and now brandished it at the Borgia guards, too.

"Kill them! Kill them all! Anyone who defy the Borgia must die!" the leader of the group howled, and the bloodshed began anew.

The drums of battle beat in her ears in tune with her heart, and it was only the whispers that were louder. They reveled in the chaos and death—in how the men opened their mouths to bay in agony as steel met flesh, but she couldn't hear. The warm spray of blood against her skin was a delight and the shock of a parried blow was exhilarating. There was no describing the sensations coursing through her as she shoved her dagger into the remaining soldier's crotch, rendering him helpless to her final blow—a slash across the neck. He fell, joining the others. A total of eight, by a quick glance, taken down with ease by her and her husband. And another, she recalled, turning to find the young man staring at her, eyes not unlike the soldiers' from before. Unlike them, however, he did not strike, but instead gasped in realization and a bit of awe.

"You-! You are the one—er ones fighting the Borgia! The Assassins!" he spoke, voice almost shaking as he bowed to one knee.

"You need not bow, my friend, you fought bravely," Ezio replied, coming closer and holding out his hand. The man hesitated a moment before taking it firmly, both ignoring the blood on their clothes. He glanced to Catherine, whom sheathed her weapons.

"I have never seen any who fought like you two before—it was… amazing," he rasped. Ezio glanced to his wife, expression not fully readable.

"Tell me, why were you fighting the guards before we came upon you?"

The man curled his lip, "Because they have taken all I loved and cared for! They have destroyed my family and taken my home, and they take and take from the people and they do not care! We can not let it go on any longer! We must stop them! And I thought—perhaps, if—if you were fighting… then I could, too. I could fight them, and take back Roma for the people, too! But…

He face dropped, fists clenching, "But I was not strong enough. I tried to fight them, but they overpowered me. If not for you, Sir, Madame… they would have killed me."

"You need not be ashamed of this, my friend. You have great courage—the kind Roma needs," the Assassin spoke, and the man looked up to him, a light in his eyes "You have felt it in your heart already, but hear it now: the liberation of Roma—the true battle—has begun. If you choose to flee, do so now, but if you choose to fight, stand with us against the Borgia."

"Yes… Yes!" the man laughed and grasped Ezio's arm again. "I am tired of hiding. I will join you."

The Assassin grinned, "Then seek Niccolò Machiavelli on Isola Tiberina and we will make you one of us. The Borgia's lies will not mask your truth."

"Yes! I will go now! Thank-you! Thank-you!" the man laughed, and, after squeezing Ezio's arm again, he sheathed his sword, and raced off. The two Assassins were alone again, save for the bodies at their feet, and those of the crowd that remained to murmur and whisper. Catherine glanced uneasily at them, wishing she were back in the tunnels instead of this open space, her back exposed.

"We should go," she spoke quickly, and he silently nodded his approval. He ushered her towards back alleyways where the guards wouldn't notice them. It was devoid of other people, too, but he kept them moving until he felt they were safe enough. The opening between homes had a well full of water as well, providing a means to clean off some of his gear. Catherine did the same, especially on her face, which had far more than it should have. It made Ezio's chest tighten, and as he gazed upon her in their silence, he could not help noticing she seemed off—again.

He waited a moment before sighing, "Are you alright?"

"The blood's not mine," she shrugged, splashing a bit of water on her cheek.

"That's not what I meant…"

She looked to him and then to the dagger she unsheathed to clean, "I'm fine."

"You were cruel to those men when you killed them."

"No crueller than they've been to the people here. I strike to kill—do you?" she snapped back, and the words hurt worse than they should have.

He frowned, "You know I do. But that wasn't what Mario taught us."

"Mario didn't teach us how to survive the Borgia, either. We can't afford to show them mercy, Ezio. The Borgia will take that weakness and slit our throats with it. We can't show them any weakness," she growled back, fingers tightening on her dagger's hilt. The darkness flared in her eyes, sending a cold chill through the Assassin. His steps were hesitant, but he came beside her and touched her cheek gently with his finger. She flinched—ever so slightly—before turning her head towards him.

"That's not what I meant… Catherine… I'm just…"

"You're worried. I know. But I'm fine. I just had to be like that to defeat the Followers. They don't fight like soldiers."

"You don't have to fight that way anymore—we're fighting together again now. You're not alone."

"…I know," she murmured, head falling. She waited a moment before continuing, "I'll try to remember."

"I'm here for you," he whispered back, his words lifting her gaze to his. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I know."

His heart hurt again, but he pushed it aside, and smiled back to her instead. His hand fell to hers, which he grasped tightly, wishing he could never let it go again. He wished he could a lot of things, truthfully, but at the very least he could do this.

"Looks like we got a new recruit pretty quick. I think he'll do well as an Assassin," he grinned.

"He was a good fighter, and he seemed sincere. We'll have to see how he holds up in training," she hummed as she wiped her free hand on her pants, still damp from washing.

"Don't be too rough now," Ezio snickered, and she gave him a look.

"I'll be just like Mario."

"Guess we better hurry and find his replacement then."

She smacked his chest, "Hush. I won't scare him off. But we do need to find more."

As if speaking of the Devil himself, a cry rang out, echoing across the city. Both Assassins turned sharply turned towards the exit opposite to the way they came. A clang of steel came next, and it was obvious a ruckus was starting. Catherine raised a brow at her husband, adjusting her bracers.

"Think we found our next recruit?"

"I find it highly unlikely, but… I wouldn't pass up the opportunity," he replied, grinning some as he adjusted his gear, too.

"Well, then. Looks like we're on our way to an army. Let's find a companion for our new novice, shall we?"

"Let's," the Assassin chuckled, and they were off.

15 – End

TMWolf: So. For those who remember the game, the recruitment of novices doesn't start until AFTER you rescue Caterina. Well, the game makes it seem like everything happens fast, but her rescue isn't until June or July (I forgot lol), and it was in 1501, so it's been a year since the fall of Monteriggioni. It just fits my story a lot better to have them recruiting now and, really, makes more sense for me. Ezio takes too long to do anything otherwise if you go by the timeline lmao

So. Recruiting time! And also slipping in some of those Templar targets, woo!

P.S. Enjoy more signs of bad stuff for kitty-'Cat. X)