1492, Vatican, Rome, Italy

The pain had been blinding, like a stab to the chest and Ezio crumpled and didn't get back up. He tried, he tried so hard, because if he didn't then Rodrigo won and if he did then— it couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it! He tried to get back to his feet, fingers seeming to dig into the floor to push himself up but blood was gushing out of his chest and there was no way he wouldn't die here. No.

NO!

He coughed up blood and lay down on the bright floor, panting, dying. Some sick part of him grinned, he was dying. He would have thought dying would have made him angry. Okay it did make him angry. It made him beyond furious. But there was a strange acceptance to his rage. He'd done what he could, he'd tried. He'd tried and failed though so…

A phantom crouched in front of him. "Hey there boy," they said and it sounded like his father. He craned his head back as best he could but the light was in his eyes and it made the man silhouetted, it made him look like an angel. "Quite a fuck up you managed to get yourself into," they reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice weak.

"A guardian angel," he said softly. "Do you want me to make this pain go away?"

Ezio closed his eyes, his armor was bent inwards, digging into his chest, it hurt as much as the wound, "Yes," he said through his teeth. His angel squeezed his shoulder.

"Do you want to see your brothers, your father?" he was asked, but it was getting hard to think, hard to speak.

"What? They-they're dead."

"They are. Would you like to see them again?"

"If I say yes?"

"Then I'll put you out of your misery," his voice was flat, emotionless, and Ezio had no doubt he'd do so.

"And what if I don't?" he wheezed, there was blood in his lungs, he knew that because he'd heard the sounds before.

The angel's lips quirked, troubled, and then leaned down to say into his ear, "Then I will give you a curse," his voice was almost so soft he couldn't hear it. "And with it you will never have to worry about being hurt again," his lips brushed the cusp of his ear. "I will make you live again."

Ezio swallowed. He almost said to just do it, kill him. He'd lived a full life, he'd killed the men who were responsible for his father and brothers' deaths. He'd known many women, won and lost love seemingly a countless number of times. He could be with his brothers and father again. But then he'd be leaving everyone, he'd be leaving his sister, and his mother, his uncle, his friends.

A selfish part of him didn't care. He'd done enough! He'd done enough. He was tired and wanted to sleep. To hell with them. He looked up at his angel who's eyes flickered under a cowl, burning gold. "Make your choice Ezio, soon it won't matter what you want, you will die," he said softly.

But if he left them who would deal with Rodrigo. He still lived. He knew there were other Assassins, he wasn't stupid. But Rodrigo…

Rodrigo was his. Right? Yes, he should be.

"If I live," Ezio rasped, "Will Rodrigo die?" he asked the angel, grasping it's forearm with what remained of his strength.

"Yes. But you will not be the one to kill him."

Ezio squeezed his eyes shut, "Who then?"

"His son will kill him. And you will kill his son. If you die many other people you hold dear will die."

Ezio knew he was selfish, he wasn't stupid after all. He did what he wanted and didn't apologize for much, he used and took and manipulated to get what he wanted. But he could be selfless too, he could be. The thought of the people he loved dying, because of him, because he was so selfish, made his chest hurt that had nothing to do with his wound.

"Give it to me," he said at last, voice curt but weak, "make me live."

The angel smiled sadly at him. "Very well Ezio," he said, "I give you the curse of life," and then he started to glow, everything started to glow and he heard singing, a voice too high for any person to ever reach. There was no song, there was just the unending song, rising and falling around him.

Then the darkness came and Ezio didn't know up from down and for the moment, he was not burdened by the things that had done so in life. He knew then the angel had lied. He was dead.

He woke to new light coming in through the high windows. He felt good, invigorated, and no longer hurt. His chest plate was not bent and he had no wound. Ezio looked around, he was where he'd been when he'd fought Rodrigo.

Rodrigo!

His eyes narrowed with purpose and he went to find the fat man.

He knew hours had passed, it had almost been dark when he'd come to the Vatican, but now it was early morning. The Pope could be long gone, but something told him he wasn't.

Before he left the room he'd been in, to find Rodrigo, he turned around, eyes searching. He didn't see anything, or anyone. His angel had been imagined by a dying mind. But here he was! He was alive. Something had made him live. His guardian angel the angel had said. He didn't think a man like him could have one of those, men like him didn't deserve to be watched over by things like that.

He turned back around to find the Pope, leaving the room. As he did he realized he was starving. Once he escaped the Vatican he was going to eat his weight in food and then some.

But first, the Pope.