TMWolf - Back for an update! :) Looks like I probably won't have regular updates any time soon, although I feel I'm almost done with the story. I write ahead, but don't like to update until I finish a chapter. I'm just about through the game, though, or at least things are moving quick to the finale. It's a wild ride, and I'm both sad and happy it's coming to an end. Not for y'all in a while, though-you're only on ch. 18 ;)

Thank-you for all your reviews by the way! I seriously just absolutely love, love, LOVE hearing what you have to say, and I always appreciate when people point out my errors! I especially need them with my busy life going on, which can make me miss them more than I like! XP So keep 'em coming! :'D

This chapter's song by Sam Smith - Writing's On the Wall (from the James Bond movie!)

18 – Writing's On the Wall

May 10, 1501

Rome, Italy

-them all.

Ezio jolted awake, a sound breaking through his dreams. His first instinct was to prepare for attack, but his Vision told him no dangers were there, although the hairs on the back of his neck were standing. His heart raced slightly, but he didn't pull out of his knife as he turned to look at the other side of the room. Again, no enemy, but rather his wife, clad in a light-blue light. She was sitting up, facing ahead, looking at something in the dark. Her fingers clenched the sheets, her eyes unblinking. Her body was tense, and he opened his mouth to speak. He paused, though, blinking quickly. For a moment there, he thought he'd seen a flicker of red come into her color, but it must have been his imagination. She was blue once more.

"'Cat?" he called softly, reaching over to touch her hand. She visibly flinched, blinking quickly, and looked to him. There was an oddness to her features, and he recalled seeing it once before. He couldn't quite remember where as she smiled softly, but it didn't look sincere.

"Sorry, having trouble sleeping tonight. Go back to sleep," she spoke softly, brushing his cheek with her hand. It felt cold. She looked away from him without waiting for a reply, her gaze peering into the dark again. He couldn't tell what, and he couldn't bring himself to ask. He sighed softly, squeezed her fingers, and lay back down. He closed his eyes and hoped sleep would come quick, if only to numb him to the guilt and the fear festering in his belly.

He nearly did, but just as his dreams were ready to take him he remembered where he'd seen the look.

It had been in the dark of night—when his wife had tortured the Borgia smuggler.

-O-

June 02, 1501

Rome, Italy

Catherine paced the training room of the Isola Tiberina, the basement serving as the host for their exercises. Her eyes focused intently on their recruits, each group trading blows with their blunted weapons. They'd evened the numbers to six, adding in another bulky man called Carlo who could match with Jacopo, and a woman who went by Belloza, and was much thicker than most. She had bulk that helped her keep up with the men in battle but made her slower and less versatile than the others. They, like the others, had learned quickly and improved as such, but now their progress was reaching a new level. Their training was fiercer and more complex, and their mentor more ferocious. She allowed no mistakes—no slips of any kind. If they were to be ready for the war to come, they could no afford them. One minor mishap meant death, and they were only an Order of eight, including herself and her Ezio. Eight against the entirety of Roma's army, essentially. While one Assassin could equal twenty men at times, they would still be the first newest recruits since Mario Auditore had brought them to the fold decades ago. They needed to be better if their small numbers hoped to survive—and win.

The redhead spun on her heels as she reached Piero and Giotto. They had both become fond of the sword, and now sliced at each other, parrying or dodging blows. Sweat piddled on their brows, splashing off as they exerted themselves. Fresh scabs could be seen, and there were certainly new bruises to be had as Giotto slapped his blunt weapon against Piero's side. The smaller man grunted, visibly in pain, but recovered quickly, ducking below the next swing. He thrust forward, slamming his sword hilt into his opponent's gut, earning a point himself. It swung a little too low, causing his brother to hunker over, looking ready to hurl. Piero immediately dropped his stance and came over, touching his back gently.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to hit your balls!" he hissed with sympathetic pain.

"It's fine—you missed," Giotto chuckled, but he was slow to lean back up straight.

Catherine's sharp bark made them jump, "What are you doing? Finish him."

"Huh? But, Mentor—I hit him pretty hard in the… er…" the young man winced, glancing down to his comrade. She imagined they were friends, the two of them often seen together with stupid grins on their faces. The redhead disregarded such things now.

"So? The point of this training is to teach you to be ruthless against your enemy—to use all their weaknesses against them. Your enemies will not be merciful or kind or hope they didn't hit you too hard in the cock. They will strike you there and then they will strike you down," she hissed, coming forward. Giotto quickly strained despite his pain, and kept his head bowed. Around them, the others paused in their efforts, exchanging looks. "Now take your sword, and fight like your life depends on it. If you do not here, then you won't out there."

"I… yes, Mentor," Pierro mumbled, shoulders slumped, but tense. Giotto was much the same, mumbling his apologies as well. They returned to proper stance, although the bigger of the two was uneasy in his. The pain in his groin was all too apparent as they began to go again, and Pierro soon took the advantage and even brought his comrade to the ground with a trip. Giotto rolled up, but his brother was there, blade striking his thigh. He yelped, the blow sharp and painful even with a dull edge. He clasped a hand to his leg, turning away with a hiss while his friend grinned a bit impishly.

"Don't just stand there—finish him."

Pierro looked to Catherine, eyes wide, "I—but—I got the blow?"

"Now finish him. You struck him, now end him."

"But—he's… we're allies."

"Right now, he is your enemy. Treat him as such."

"I… I don't think I can. We're all allies here."

Catherine breathed out slowly and then picked up Giotto's sword, "Then I will be your opponent. Today, I am Cesare Borgia, and you are an Assassin. Fight me with all you have, or I will kill you and everyone you love."

"Ah—but, Mentor," Pierro began, but could say no more as Catherine suddenly lunged. She struck hard and fast, and the young man barely hard time to parry it as he half-stumbled backwards. He was pushed back two more steps before he understood the gravity of the situation and tried to counter attack. His speed worked in his favor, and a few times the redhead had to duck, dodge, and side step, but then she went on the offensive again. The novice's strength was lacking after going through a bout, and panic steadily began to paint itself into his features. His Mentor was more experienced, and more ruthless. He was unaccustomed to the ferocity in her strikes or her unrelenting charge.

In the end, he faltered, and with a wide, upward ark, Catherine struck Pierro's hand. He yelped as his sword flew from his hands as well, and then fell when the redhead swung her leg into the back of his heel. He held his smarting fingers tight against his chest as his Mentor stood over him, blunt edge of the blade pressed against his stomach. He found eyes hard and cold staring down at him, forcing him to look away.

"You're dead," she growled, and then turned her gaze to the others. There was a nervousness to their stance, to which she scowled. "That was pitiful. If you are to be Assassins, you must be fight with everything you have—even in a mock battle. What if this had been the real thing, hmm? What if I really was Cesare? Or even a Borgia dog? Hmm? Do you think Pierro would be alive right now? Do you think this would be a dulled blade? Do you think I wouldn't hesitate to stick you like a pig?!

She sliced at the air with her weapon, eyes blazing, "The Borgia won't show you mercy. They will see you and they will kill you without hesitation. You must be prepared to fight for your life and to strike down any who get in your way. You will be on your own out there at times, and you will have to survive. And when you are together you must be able to rely on one another—to trust that each and every one of you will do everything in your power to keep each other alive and put an end to the Borgia scum. If you show mercy here and now, you will show it to the enemy, and I promise you… the Borgia don't know such kindness.

Catherine paused, turning to Pierro, "You must all be stronger. Better. To stop the Borgia and liberate this city, you have to be willing to do what no one else can."

As her words ended, a heavy silence fell over the group. The young Assassin in training met her gaze briefly, but then looked away again, his visage tainted with shame. Giotto had a similar look, though he sent a sympathetic one to his friend as well.

"Catherine."

All eyes shot to the entryway of the training room where Ezio Auditore stood. In his arms was Diana, watching with wide, curious eyes that shined with excitement. Next to him was the Lady Maria, whom regarded things coolly, ever unreadable. The redheaded child made a sound of delight and waved foolishly.

"Mama!" she called out, and a small smile appeared on the woman's face. She flipped the blade in her hand around, holding the handle out to Giotto.

"Here," she spoke, and he took it, keeping his gaze low. She made for her daughter as she continued, "Keep at your training. Remember: fight like you're facing the Borgia."

It took a moment or two, but the novices began to clash with their weapons once more while their Mentor approached her husband and mother-in-law. Diana reached fervently, and Catherine was all too happy to bring her daughter to her chest. She hoisted her up on one arm, features softening as she kissed the little girl's cheek.

"How's my sweet girl?" she cooed.

"Good! I just got back from lessons and visiting Auntie Claudia and her ladies! They're all so nice to me," she grinned while the redhead raised a brow to her family.

"We keep it… innocent," Maria smiled, a flicker of something else behind it.

"I see training is… getting intense," Ezio mused, glancing to the novices. His tone suggested more, but the redhead ignored it as her child squirmed slightly.

"I wanna train, too, Mama! I wanna learn how to fight with a sword and fight the bad men! I wanna help, too!"

"Sorry, my sweet girl… but this fight is not yours. You are too young," Catherine spoke softly, brushing a loose lock back into her hair net. When the child pouted, she chuckled and put a finger to her pink lips, "Now, now… no fussing, my love. You just leave it to your Mama and Papa. We will stop the bad men. We promise… we're going to fight them and stop them. They won't hurt you or anyone else anymore. We'll make sure they pay for all they've done to us and everyone. I promise."

"Mmm I still wanna learn how to fight," Diana huffed, tilting her head some.

The redhead laughed, "Perhaps one day, my darling Diana. But not today."

"Mmm fiiiine… but today you'll play with me, right? You promised!"

"Oh, that's right, I did, didn't I?"

Ezio chuckled, "You did. She's been talking about it all day now. Go on, I'll take over the training for now. I need to get more involved, anyways."

"Alright… they're finishing up with sparring, then I let them rest before free running the streets. I'll see you at dinner then?" she inquired, and he nodded before stealing a quick kiss. He gave Diana one on her forehead next. "Alright then. Come on, Diana. Let's go have some fun, shall we?"

"Yes! Let's go! I want to show you the new book I have!" the little girl beamed, bouncing in her mother's arms some as the redhead headed towards the stairs leading to the upper rooms. Ezio watched her go the entire way, his heart heavy in his chest. A deep sigh escaped him, and his forlorn expression was only disrupted when a hand touched his arm. He turned towards his mother, whom shared a similar look in her eyes. Her hand moved to his cheek, which he leaned into and grasped tightly. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply once more.

"Mother… I… Catherine… She's…"

"She is sick, my son," Maria spoke softly, at a barely audible whisper. Beyond them, the sound of parrying weapons echoed. "It is not too terrible now, but it is the kind that grows and spreads."

"I don't know what to do …"

"It is not a sickness medicine can heal, I fear … It is a special kind… one you will have to find the cure for on your own."

"I… I just… I'm afraid, Mother. For her. For Diana. For us. I want to help her. I want to save her."

"I know… I know, and it grieves me so to see you both this way…," Maria sighed softly. "Try and find what caused her ailment. Find the true source. Perhaps then you may know what can be done… But for now, go. Your students need you. They need to be set on the proper path."

"I know," Ezio smiled weakly. He kissed his mother's brow gently, and then pulled away from her grasp. She watched him go for a moment and then turned and left herself, the worry gnawing away at her gut almost as much as it did her son's.

"Ah, Mentor. You'll be taking over now?" Alessandra inquired as the Lord Auditore approached. He nodded, and visible relief came over the group. "Do we keep sparring or…?"

He nodded, "Yes, I'd like to see the rest of you spar still. I have not done enough while searching for the Borgia's allies."

"Ah, if it's alright, Mentor, I'd rather not, I'm exhausted… and I can't see Giotto as a Borgia. He's too nice! And he keeps making me laugh!" Pierro huffed, though grinned when his friend sent a foolish look his way.

"True, I think you've had enough… but I suppose that brings me to a good point: although harsh… my wife was not entirely wrong. I do not expect you to be able to view your comrades—your brothers and sisters—as the enemy… but the Borgia will, I assure you, not show mercy. Every day out there is one I might die. Any mistake or slip could have a crossbow bolt in my back or a blade through my gut. You must be ready for anything and everything, and Catherine means well when she pushes you. She doesn't want you to be unprepared for the worst."

"It's… we understand," Carlo shrugged. "We know they have taken even more from you than us. You two know the dangers better."

"But I wouldn't mind not getting beat up by her. Her swordsmanship is incredible," Giotto huffed, shaking his head.

Pierro scoffed, waving his hand, "Tell me about it. I'm going to feel this for a week!"

"Maybe you should just get better at fighting," Belloza smirked, earning a pout.

Alessandra laughed, "To be fair, the Lady Auditore is a master Assassin like our Lord here. It's only expected she could best us—even Jacopo here."

"Shut it, woman. Or I'll remind you who can best you," the haughty man snapped, but there was less bite to his words than expected. The black-haired woman smirked playfully in kind.

Ezio couldn't help smiling. It warmed his heart to see them all getting along so well already. He hadn't known what to expect when he started this thing—this hope, but it was more than he could have imagined. He could see the bonds forming between them, and he was proud to call them his fellow Assassins, or at least in-training. Mario would have been proud of them, he was sure, as would have been his father. He was doubly glad they held no grudge against his wife, despite the growing madness—and it was indeed madness. He had tried to deny it, but he could no longer. Thank God it had not infected any others.

Still, the worry continued to gnaw at him.

"Alright then, get to work you lot," he chuckled, forcing the feeling back. "Pierro, Giotto, you may take your break. You've had enough. And go see about that hand if you need to. But don't go too far—you still need to run the streets, especially the new recruits. I want you all to know Roma like the back of your hand by the time you're properly inducted."

"Yes, Mentor!" was the chorus of replies, and they went back to work. Ezio made sure to walk close, his mind taking in it all, and wondering how the hell he could help his wife.

By the time training had ended, he still had no answer.

-O-

June 18, 1501

Roma, Italy

"Ah, Machiavelli, you're here. I take it the others are as well?" Ezio called as he walked into the main forum of the hideout, Catherine right at his side. They had just put Diana to bed, the young girl exhausted after a day of traveling the countryside outside the city. She was learning to ride a horse now and loved the practice. She especially love doting on the animals, but it was hard work, and she'd earned a good rest. Ezio was just relieved that his wife had seemed at ease. He couldn't recall the last time the redhead had seemed so elated for more than a few hours. The revelry had ended with sunset, though, and it was time to get down to business—specifically the kind that called for all three of their faction leaders to met in the Isola's drawing room. Truthfully, it was the smaller section of the library, but it had a desk, and provided enough privacy to do well for meetings.

"Yes, they've all gathered in the back. It seemed there is much to discuss," the nobleman replied, bowing his head respectfully. "How fares your training? Are your novices ready?"

"Are we going to need them?" Catherine inquired, brow raised.

Machiavelli paused, "Perhaps. I am… uncertain."

"They… could use more training, but they can hold their own now. It wouldn't hurt to give them proper experience," the redhead mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"What's going on?" Ezio pressed, brow furrowed.

"Perhaps it's best you hear from the others first. I am merely being speculative."

"I see," the Assassin mused, sharing a look with his wife. No more was said, though, and they followed the nobleman into the back room. The novices were back in their rooms or perhaps out in the city—they had been given the day off after all their hard work. While training as much as possible was needed, their bodies required rest and recovery, and Ezio hadn't failed to notice they needed a break, if only mentally. Having freedom to relax and play was good for the soul. Hell, even Mario had given them time off, too.

They were all gathered in a circle; La Volpe, Claudia, and Bartolomeo. They all greeted the arriving trio well enough—the thief leader not so much towards the nobleman—and quickly gave their updates. The Thieves were spreading far, the work of the Assassins making it easier; the mercenaries were winning and losing as always, but with the Borgia facing more than one enemy now, it was the French that posed the greatest threat; the Courtesans were more successful than ever, and Claudia was learning more and more secrets by the minute All were gaining more recruits to boot and each new member gave strength to the Order.

In short, things were going well—for everyone.

"So. Is there anything else?" Ezio inquired as they finished the round.

Bartolomeo nodded as he stepped forward, waving a hand, "I've been following that bastard Cesare's movements in the field. He's keeping his army out in the countryside, but he and his personal guard are returning to Roma soon. I imagine he is coming to visit the Castel Sant'Angelo to meet with the Pope there."

"And I have news of the Apple," La Volpe smirked slightly. "My spies tell me that it has been secreted to someone for study. I am still working on determining his identity."

Claudia spoke next, "Caterina will be moved to the prison within the Castello in a few weeks. According to the Pope, she tried to kill him years ago with some letter she sent. He claims it was imbued with poison because he deprived her of her fiefdoms with a Papal bull."

"Really?" Ezio snorted, shaking his head.

Catherine scowled, "Bastard. Do we have a way in?"

"Hmm. Perhaps," Machiavelli responded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "My informants spoke of a damaged gate along the right side that will be taken out to be replaced at some point, though I am not sure when. I can see about pressing my informant to learn more."

"My thieves can keep watch as well, although it is of little good until Cesare arrives," the thief leader mused, glancing at the nobleman with an unreadable look.

"How long until he does?" Catherine growled, eyes narrowed.

"He will most likely take a few weeks—he likes to visit each of his strongholds he has set up; to really the troops and boost morale," Bartolomeo mused, shaking a finger. "But this is a good thing. This will give you time to prepare. I cannot draw them away like I did before, but the main armies are out in the field anyways, and I can leave men with you here."

Claudia shrugged, frowning slightly, "At most my girls can help hide you during the escape—and secret Caterina away if need be. But otherwise, there is no more I can give. We just know she will be in the Castelo dungeons."

"If you would like, my lady, I could send Giovanni to lead the city mercenaries. There will be quite the uproar when you storm Cesare's palace," the mercenary commander offered, which earned a grateful smile from the woman as she nodded.

La Volpe hummed, "I'll keep my thieves listening for when the coast will be clear, and as soon as I know the man who holds the Apple I will find you again."

"Then it is settled: the Castello is our battleground. Roma will heal quickly with Cesare and Rodrigo gone. You must not make the same mistake in the Vault, Ezio. You must kill them," Machiavelli pressed, looking to the Assassin firmly. Ezio nodded back—without hesitation.

"You can count on it," Catherine spoke low and cool, fingers clenched tight.

"Yes…" Claudia added, a mixture of regret, pain, and determination in her eyes. "They must pay for the deaths of our loved ones… for Ottavio. For my Federico… for Mario. For our brothers and father. For our people."

"You have my word—they will die. When they are in the Castel… we will cut them down and put an end to this," Ezio affirmed, his voice stern and gaze stalwart. "I thank-you for all you have done to help us—to help this Order… and this city. We will free it from the grasp of the Borgia."

The revelry and confidence was shared all around, and with the plan set, the players began to take their leave. Only La Volpe remained, his gaze following Machiavelli's back until the man was gone from sight, and then his eyes turned to the two Assassins. They regarded him back curiously as he began to pace. Ezio expected it to be about the nobleman, the thief still unable to quell his unease about things, but was surprised when it was a different man he spoke the name of.

"Michelleto," he started, glancing to Catherine, whom tensed. "It seems he is also on the move—here, to Roma. He is going ahead of Cesare, no doubt to secure things before he arrives. I am not yet certain, but I am sure he will be here soon. He generally moves alone, but you should be prepared. He is not an easy man to learn about."

"Can you know when he's near Roma?" the redhead asked, almost too quickly.

"Yes, I can. I have more eyes than even those damn Cento Occhi. When he is within a day's ride, we will know."

"Thank-you, Volpe. We will be ready for him," Ezio nodded, clasping the man's shoulder. The thief nodded and then took his leave. The Assassin regarded his wife, and while he himself lusted for vengeance on a man that had dared harm his wife, the darkness in her eyes worried him. He touched her fingers gently. "Catherine?"

"I'm alright," she replied without hesitation, grasping his fingers back. "He needs to die, too. He has to."

"He will—for Roma," he spoke, stressing the last words. As much as he did want this for revenge, they had to be more than that. It had taken time for him to understand it, but seeing the changes they'd made so far, and the shadows that plagued his wife, it had become clearer. Killing the Borgias had to be foe the right reasons. Revenge could only be a smaller portion—an extra recompense. Nothing more. Their cause had to be just, else they became no better than the enemy.

Catherine was quiet for far too long, but then said softly, "For Roma."

It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.

And now—now they would prepare for the fight to come.

18 – End

TMWolf: So more signs are showing, and things are steadily coming to a head! There's still a low point to hit, and hoooooo boy. It's a doozey, but the climax is almost here and then a whole new tone is coming along as we head to the end-game after that! :) So hold tight everyone!