I'm really pleased with how this one turned out! I hope you guys enjoy :)

March 25th, 1500. Rome.

Machiavelli stared at the Doctor across the table, fingers laced together and resting on the wood. This man – this ultimate being of power and glory wasn't telling them all they needed to know. He leant against the wall, rubbing his palms together and holding the sides of them close to his face as he considered things that were well beyond his control but should be within it. And Machiavelli knew that he just didn't care anymore. He didn't consider his fate, not even for a moment, as he stood and faced this monster of a man head on. He looked up, chewing on the skin of his thumb, and met Machiavelli's eyes. And he knew. He knew under his man's gaze there would be no where left to run. He conceded to the fact that he could hide nothing, and face the truth.

If the Doctor brought all of time and space on his mortal soul, then so be it. So be it. Because Machiavelli refused to sit and play pawn to this false god.

'I think it is time you told us all you knew, or so help me god I will turn all of my power into the destruction of your immortal soul. I will draw out your pain and make it tenfold, and you may run, Time Lord – but know that I will haunt you to the end of your miserable days. I will not stand aside and let you play with my allies, my friends and all we hold dear as if this is all some game. Speak, Doctor, or suffer.'

A dead silence fell in the room. Slowly, all eyes turned to the Doctor, who'd stopped chewing on his thumb and was gazing at Machiavelli. There was something imploring about that look, and it begged Machiavelli to let him run away. But Machiavelli's uncompromising look held firm, and under it the Doctor relented.

'I'm more involved in this than I first thought. My past selves – previous versions, that is, of me are leaving me clues. And for time travellers, involvement with other versions of yourself is dangerous. It means that somewhere, somehow, time is scrambled. Perhaps even beyond repair.'

'Excuse me,' La Volpe rose from a dark corner of the room, half raising his hand. 'Forgive me for sounding ignorant, but if these clues are left to you by your past selves, then why can't you simply remember doing it?'

'This face,' the Doctor explained, motioning to his own. 'It doesn't last forever. It ages, and in this body I can grow old, but if I were to ever die my cells regenerate and make me into a new person. Different face, different dress sense, but I essentially stay the same person. When I changed, my past self repressed the memories. They had to be remembered at the right time and place –had I known sooner or later everything would be lost. And with a trail going this far back in time, I'd say that more than one past self is doing this.'

'And how many of you are there?' Machiavelli asked.

The Doctor met his eyes, and there was something regretful about his tone when he said: 'I'm the eleventh.'

'Mio Dio…' La Volpe murmured, stunned, as he fell back into the shadows. Bartolomeo, sat in front of him, hefted Bianca up onto her point and rubbed his eyes with his spare hand. Machiavelli's fists clenched, and across from La Volpe Ezio's family gathered tighter around him, and the Doctor could see that Ezio's eyes were abnormally focused. He was looking at him again with his heightened senses, and the Doctor wondered what he was seeing now.

'With so much at stake, and with so much kept from us…' Machiavelli said. 'Tell me, Doctor – how are we meant to trust you?'

The Doctor's eyes dropped to the table. Behind him, Rory swallowed nervously, and Amy reached out to squeeze the Doctor's shoulder.

'You can't.'

Everyone was silent.

'You can't trust me. I'm a monster of my own making – a disease. A parasite. I bring death wherever I go. In far off galaxies and centuries, there are people who teach their children to run when they hear the word Doctor. Some use it when they speak of warriors. It was never my purpose to make an arsenal out of this universe, but everywhere I go falls to ruin. The people I find fall to ruin. I don't heal – I destroy. And that's why I keep running. Avoiding the truth. Unable to face the people I leave behind.'

Machiavelli didn't pause in answering. 'Then run away, Doctor. And leave us to our own making.'

'I cannot let you do that.'

Every eye turned in the room at once to Leonardo, who raised himself with some difficulty to his feet. Ezio watched him very carefully, anxious that he might fall. He rested his hands on the table, and took a deep breath.

'The Doctor is all we have in defeating the Templar threat. Without him, we are nothing.'

'We have done well enough without him. As much as I respect you, Leonardo, we don't need his meddling.' Machiavelli argued. Leonardo nodded peacefully, but argued regardless.

'The Doctor has done no wrong – not that my old eyes can see. I do not mean to disrespect you, but you are still so young Niccolò,' Leonardo said gently, as Machiavelli's mouth set itself into a grimace. He looked away. Leonardo smiled sadly, and turned his head to give the Doctor the same look. 'I know an old man when I see one. And I also see a friend who has been pulled into things that he would much rather avoid – despite the power he has.' Leonardo stepped forward carefully, taking measured steps, and held the Doctor's hand in his own. The Doctor looked on, stunned, as Leonardo Da Vinci stood before him. 'As long as you are here and I see it fit, I will stand beside you, Dottore. Until the very end.'

The Doctor was lost for all words but a few. 'I can't ask you to…'

'You can ask nothing and expect nothing. You may only hope, my friend.' Leonardo replied grimly, turning to face the room again. All was silent. 'So you mean for us to divide? We will achieve nothing in our fight if we squabble amongst ourselves.' Leonardo called to the room. He was met with silence again before Pantasilea stood from her seat beside Bartolomeo.

'I stand with you.' She said. Bartolomeo was roused at once, eyes wide with shock.

'Pantasilea - !'

'I love you,' Pantasilea stated, cutting him off, even though her pain was evident. 'But I will not see our stance on this war weakened. I will not have us fight each other when there is a common enemy out there. And all the while we are divided I go with the only hope we have in winning this impossible war.' And with that, she inhaled sharply and strode smartly towards the Doctor and Leonardo. Leonardo squeezed her hand when she stood next to him, and she faced the room with her head held high. 'Anybody else?'

It was only a moment before Bartolomeo stood abruptly, his hand twisting around the hilt of Bianca nervously. All eyes fixed on him immediately, and he shrugged helplessly before making his way sheepishly over to stand by his wife. Pantasilea visibly relaxed with him next to her, and the tension in the room changed.

'Volpe?' Leonardo called to the lurking shadow in the corner. 'Will you join us?'

'I am a thief. My best interests will reside with the winning party.'

Machiavelli shot him a look of deep distrust – La Volpe shrugged luxuriously and settled back against his wall, watching the goings on with a keen interest. Slowly, and inevitably, all eyes turned to Ezio. He blinked his senses away, having stared at the Doctor long enough to give himself a headache.

'Well, Ezio? You are Maestro of this Brotherhood. Your say in this will sway us all.' Machiavelli said, the challenge lurking gently under his words, waiting to rear its ugly head. Ezio glanced down at his sister, who looked from the Doctor and to her brother to shrug helplessly. Smiling sadly back at her, Ezio turned to his mother, who's hand reached up for his shoulder and patted it. Her faith in her son was obvious. He would do the right thing.

Ezio cleared his throat. 'When I look at you – Doctor – through my other eyes, I am not sure what I see. When I see a friend, I see a threat. And when I see a place to hide, I also see a cause to run. Such unreliability and danger would make any sane man fear you.' He stated, and the Doctor understood. His head began to lower, and he'd backed away from the table when Ezio began to speak again.

'But as an Assassin, I see an ally.'

He left his mother's and sister's side to approach the Doctor. He reached out and grasped the Doctor's shoulder while taking his hand and bringing it up between them, shaking it as he spoke. 'You and I both have a common interest, Doctor. For me, it is my family and my Brotherhood. For you it is your friends and all we know. But we both live to protect what we love above all.'

Ezio stepped closer.

'No more lies, Dottore. No more secrets. You tell us all we know, and we will tell you what we can. We work together, not apart, and then we shall have victory.'

There was a moment when the Doctor said nothing at all, but a smile spread slowly over his face and he doubled his grip on Ezio's hand.

'Victory,' he agreed.

Ezio smiled, and shook his hand once as Leonardo slowly approached them both. He held up the yellow note between his fingers, and the Doctor sprang into action.

'Yes, of course! Clever Leonardo, always thinking ahead! Of course I'm always thinking double ahead, but still,' The Doctor skipped past, snatching the note from Leonardo and missing the man's quiet smile. 'This…is a clue. And clues lead to things, and I should understand these clues because they were in fact left by me, and clearly I was in a funny mood because I've just made a great big mystery, which I'll admit isn't very helpful but makes these things just a bit more fun.' The Doctor danced up to Machiavelli, who stepped back as the Doctor invaded his personal space. He blinked as the note was waved in his face. 'What are these numbers, Mach-Daddy-Veli? You've seen them before, you lot have maps.'

Machiavelli, stunned, took the note and looked at the things written on it. 'The second set of numbers are like nothing I have ever seen before, but the first set are coordinates.'

'COORDINATES!' The Doctor shouted with glee, startling everyone in the room. 'But that's no good, it's all well and good telling me where to go but when – '

'Give me that,' Amy snapped, striding across the room and taking the note from Machiavelli, reading it a few times over before speaking. 'Well, you've said holiday. Sounds like normal time, right?'

The Doctor strode over and, leaning close, delicately took the note back. 'Amelia Pond, you should know by now that there's no such thing as normal time.' He said in a low voice, spinning around just as she opened her mouth to argue. 'But you're right – holiday probably means modern times,' the Doctor grinned at Amy, who glared at him. 'But what does that last bit mean? And what about the other numbers?'

'I say that we do not bother ourselves with those numbers for now, but focus on those coordinates,' Ezio said, waving his hand. 'The message, Leonardo – what was it?'

'"In his final resting place"' Leonardo quoted. 'That has to be a grave. That cannot mean anything else.'

'But what's in there?'

Leonardo thought for a moment before taking the book they had stolen from the museum, having left it on the table. He opened it at the page they had found the first note stuck to, and pushed the open book across the table. Everyone gathered around it to scan it for clues.

'"…and to this day it remains with Father Damien in his final resting place, forever with the peace the angels bought."' Leonardo quoted absently. 'Ezio, this is a book on Pieces of Eden. It surely cannot mean – '

'But it seems to be so!' Ezio said, clearly startled.

'What? What does it mean?' Claudia demanded.

'It means that there's one of your Pieces of Eden in the grave of an old priest,' the Doctor suddenly said. 'And I want us to go and get it.'

Everybody stared at the Doctor, who grinned after a pause.

'And the best kind of advice is always your own.'

As I say, I really like how this one turned out - so please review and tell me what you think! :)