This was fun to write :D And when I said to my dad I'd put some of this in Italian after getting the translation out of Google, he predicted that if I reversed it, it'd come out something completely different, like a complex order for an icecream. LOL. Anyway, enjoy! :D

McDonald had never been inside a girl's apartment – he always took them back to his – and so was surprised to find this one not in a pristine form but very much lived in, the way apartments should be. There were TV magazines scattered across the coffee table with tea rings practically engraved on the wood, peeling blue paint on the walls, stains on the carpet and a basket of laundry sitting on the dining table where she must've taken it out of her washing machine in the morning before she went to work.

On the drive to her house, McDonald learnt a lot about her. Firstly, she said her name was Maria (he was relieved he wouldn't have to admit that he'd forgotten it) that she'd grown up in Cambridge, had a degree in applied mathematics and that her accent was actually false – her true accent was pristine and quite articulate English, and that she purposefully dyed her brunette hair blonde so people would expect less of her and she'd melt into the background, unnoticed and free to do all she liked.

Oh, and that her missing finger was a result of joining the Assassin Brotherhood – an order that she was born into. Removing your finger isn't necessary, she'd added, I just wanted to show up my brother who was too much of a coward to have it done. McDonald had just sort of nodded and shrunk a little in his seat.

An Assassin, right under his nose. And right under him once too. Fuck. If Vidic thought the Animus breaking was something to be worried about, he couldn't wait to tell him about this.

But right now, he was sitting on a threadbare sofa, holding a mug of tea (he'd made an effort not to stare at the gap in her hand where her finger should've been when she passed it to him) and was obediently munching on a biscuit from a plate on the table. She – Maria – was sitting across from him on another sofa in a similar state to his, dunking biscuits in her tea and watching him with a laptop humming to itself next to her.

'What went on down there, Darren? I couldn't get close enough – security carted me out of the building while everyone from upstairs was running out when I tried to have a look.'

McDonald rubbed the back of his neck and pinched the skin there. 'Nothing you'd ever believe.'

Maria's hands circled her mug of tea – and McDonald found himself staring at that gap in her hand.

'Oh, I would,' she said.

McDonald found himself believing her.

'When the TARDIS started to materialise, I think it got too much for the Animus to cope with. Miles broke out and disrupted the whole programme, and the TARDIS disappeared to god knows where. If the Doctor's got any sense at all, it'll be well away from here.'

He watched her carefully, wondering if she knew what he was talking about.

'We – the Brotherhood, know exactly where he went. Or rather, when.'

McDonald looked puzzled as she placed her mug on the coffee table, stood up and went over to the rickety old bookcase. She stopped in what looked like a trilogy of thick hardbacks, put both her hands on either side of them, and dragged out one big box from the bookshelf. If McDonald wasn't so surprised, he'd be very impressed indeed. But he was surprised, so he sat and watched her struggle over with the box disguised as a trilogy and watched her drop it gently on the table. She sat down, took a sip of her tea, and opened the box up.

There, hidden away, laid one big book. It was yellow with age, and the smell of centuries surrounded McDonald and made him want to cough, but the motif on the front was what made him stop breathing.

The Assassin symbol.

'Our ancestors, the founding fathers of the Brotherhood, took turns to keep records of each decade. You can find these all over the world. About a year ago, we were contacted by the Brotherhood in Italy – they'd picked up something in this one.' Maria set down her tea and looked at McDonald. 'Ever heard of Niccolò Machiavelli?'

'Who?'

'Didn't think so.' Maria sighed. 'Born in Florence, Italy in 1469, third child of Bernardo di Niccolò Machiavelli and his wife Bartolomea di Stefano Nelli, and considered one of the founding fathers of political science. And his spare time, part of the Assassin order in Rome from 1503 onwards. He was also close with Ezio Auditore da Frienze, one of the order's legends.'

'Now him I've heard of. Vidic never shuts up about him.'

'I'm not surprised. It's him and what he taught that we all work towards – and what the Italian Brotherhood picked up on. There's a record in here that concerns him and someone who Niccolò calls the Dottore.'

Even McDonald knew what that meant. 'The Doctor?'

'Couldn't be anyone else.' Maria opened the book to a page where a piece of paper had been left, and traced an elegant hand. 'Sedicesimamarzo, 1500.' She said in flawless Italian. 'Sixteenth of March, 1500. "L'universonon èquello che sappiamodi essere, questo molto piùora so. Pensareche ciò chesapevadeiimpallidiscedi significatoa questo.Questo, questasfidal'intero concetto. E 'ciò chela razza umana hasognato, soffriva per-tutto quello che abbiamomai desideratodi esistere.E l'uomodietrosfida ogniconcetto didivinità, perché è unosolo. Il diodegli uomini.Dormesotto il nostro tettoadesso, emi chiedoche la mattinase il mondosaràlo stesso cheho trovatoieri."'

McDonald blinked at her. 'I'm not some sort of language wizard. I'm Scottish, for fuck's sake.'

Maria gave him a withering look. 'It says: "The universe is not what we know it to be, this much I now know. To think that what we knew about gods pales in significance to this. This... This defies the whole concept. It is what the human race has dreamed of, ached for - all we have ever wished to exist. And the man behind it all defies the concept of gods because he is one himself. The god of men. He sleeps under our roof now, and I find myself wondering that in the morning if the world will be the same as I found it yesterday."'

'Well there's only one person he could be talking about there.'

'Before they picked up on the word Dottore in later entries, they thought Niccolò was talking about Ezio. Niccolò actually compares the two of them later on.' Her finger moved down the page. 'Here. "I duedi loro sonoanime gemelle-persi nelloro doloreproprioe comeha plasmatoi loro mondi. Nessuno dei dueparla diciò che hanno persoverbalmente, maattraverso le loro azioni. MentreEziocercachilo hasbagliato efeceil suo doloreper placarela seteumanadi vendettasanguinosa, il Dottore licerca solodi perdonare. Sologli deihanno una talecapacità. Non c'ètempo perEzio. Impareràmolto da questouomo. Ma fino ad allora, saranno camminare trai mortalicome divinitàconriflessioni fattedai lorodemoni, e plasmare il mondocome ritengonoopportuno."'

'Again, English would be great.'

'"The two of them are kindred spirits - lost in their own grief and how it has shaped their worlds. Neither of them talk of what they have lost verbally, but through their actions. While Ezio seeks out those who did him wrong and caused him his pain to quench the human thirst for bloody revenge, the Doctor seeks them only to forgive. Only gods have such an ability. There is time left for Ezio. He will learn much from this man. But until then, they will walk among mortals as gods with reflections made from their own demons, and shape the world as they deem fit."'

'This Niccolò seems like a clever bastard.'

'After what happened today, it's clear that the Doctor crashed in Ezio's time. All he got up to is in this book, but in his memories, nothing.'

'You have access to the memory logs?'

Maria gave him a look. 'I'm an Assassin spy working directly under the nose of the top Abstergo agents, and I've been doing so for about a year now. What do you think?'

'Fair point. What happens now?'

'I read all the passages through and pick up on anything interesting while you and I work on getting Hastings, Crane and Miles out of Abstergo. I don't know why the Doctor hasn't shown up in Ezio's memories, but I daren't leave anything to chance.'

'Whoa – stop right there. Me and you? I don't think so. I'm risking more than my job just sitting here and drinking tea.'

'Look at it this way. You help me, I help you. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. I can get that funding you need – the Order can do a foolproof transaction that'll look exactly like one from TORCHWOOD HQ.'

'Vidic's not stupid, he'll want to know where it's come from. Money like that doesn't turn up overnight!'

'Do you think we're that stupid? Of course it wouldn't be overnight, the money would come through after a week! Our teams will compose emails between you and TORCHWOOD, and you'll show them to Vidic and he'll be convinced.'

'Bullshit. What's stopping me from walking out of here and turning you in right now?'

'I have Assassins outside my apartment block. They'll be putting holes in you as soon as you step outside my door if I give the word.'

'Bullshit,' McDonald repeated again.

'Of course it is. But you won't turn me in. This affects us as much as it does you, and you need that money.'

McDonald was on his feet and shrugging his coat on. 'I'm out of here. Screw your help, I'll figure it out myself.'

Maria didn't move to stop him – in fact, she made herself comfortable on her sofa. 'I give it ten minutes. Ten minutes to change your mind.'

'Fuck you.'

'Please yourself.'

The door slammed. Maria sighed, put Niccolò's diary away, made herself another cup of tea, flicked through last month's TV listings, yawned, wondered if she should shower or take a bath that night, and was just settling down to watch another rerun of Friends when someone pounded on her door. Sighing, she padded over to the door, opened it, and glanced at her watch.

'That was nine minutes and forty seconds. I underestimated you, McDonald.'

'Shut up.'

How do you solve a problem like Maria... *Whistle* Chapter 14 up in the near future! :D Each review rocks my world ;)