It might have been amusing to watch Alex poke at the cup of instant noodles, had Desmond not been starving and trying to down his own cup in one go. Lucy had the both of them go out and scale the buildings of Monterigionni to "get in shape." Needless to say, the workout usually worked up his appetite, though he didn't always get to eat as much as he'd like.

"Kore wa... ?"

He was almost unsure if the question had been spoken to him directly, but the questioning eyes directed his way at least confirmed it. "Noodles," Desmond replied simply, pausing only slightly to answer. "Food."

"F-Food?" Alex repeated, looking so shocked that Shaun, across the table, snorted out loud.

"Yup. Food."

He just knew, from the glint in Alex's eye, that this certainly wouldn't be the end of this issue. Maybe he should warn Lucy...

"He WHAT?"

Less than twelve hours later, and it was already too late. Desmond fought back a groan when he realized that yes, Alex WAS gone, and they hadn't a single clue as to where he'd gone. He and Lucy had spent the better part of their day off to try and find him in the secret passage out of the Sanctuary, but that proved fruitless. Shaun and Rebecca could find nothing except Alex's bandages behind one of the statues. The Japanese boy had simply up and vanished.

"This is bad," Lucy groaned, pacing around the Sanctuary. "This is really, really bad... he's not even capable of communicating! He doesn't even know who he really is!"

"He can fight, though, can't he?" Desmond offered.

"Yes, but what if he wasn't who we thought he was? What if he was a spy for Abstergo?"

"I really, really doubt that," Shaun shot in. "He couldn't understand a word of English. Even I know they wouldn't have wasted their time getting a translator when they could just plug him into an Animus. And you're going to make a hole in the floor if you keep pacing!"

When Lucy didn't seem to hear, Desmond sighed and got up from his seat in the Animus. He put an arm on her shoulder to stop her, smiled at her when she looked to him. "He wouldn't betray us," he said, with so much certainty that she looked skeptical.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Out of everything that's happened, you should be the most suspicious."

"Because he thinks he's Kouwashi, right?" Desmond shrugged, drawing his hand back. "And Kouwashi was loyal to Ezio. He might know I'm not Ezio, but he doesn't know he's Alex. Kouwashi was really loyal to the people he trusted. And that includes all of us. Plus, I think his own personality is leaking through a little. Alex just doesn't look like the type to purposely hurt people without a really good reason."

"If... If you say so... "

The next twenty-four hours were spent warily, preparing for an attack that may or may not come. 'Just in case,' as Lucy had put it. Desmond wasn't even put into the Animus at all during this time. At night, though, he was allowed to wander out of their hideout and so, went running around the sleeping town of Monteriggioni.

It was weird, he decided. Not even a whole day and he already missed Alex's company, even if they couldn't really talk. He wouldn't be lying if he said he considered the Japanese boy as a younger brother. And it was just nice to know that someone knew what he was going through and could help him cope, however unintentionally.

Sighing, Desmond ran a hand through his hair, grumbling. He needed a haircut. He ran a hand along his jaw, grimacing. Maybe a shave, too. He was going to start looking like Ezio at this rate, and he was more than sure that he really didn't need that added to his dwindling sanity.

He saw a flicker of gold in the dark of night, and Desmond had to blink to make sure he hadn't accidentally turned on his Eagle Vision. When it didn't go away, he started to notice the shape of the gold, as well as the movement. They were very obviously wings. He resisted the urge to put his face in his palm, taking a deep breath before he made his way closer. And, sure enough, as expected, it was Alex, only he seemed to be carrying a plastic bag with... a lot of items. And he was talking to someone, excitedly, a big grin on his face.

Who could he know that would understand anything he said?

Desmond tapped the talk button on his headset, still a little dumbfounded. "Guys?"

"What's up, Des?" Rebecca answered. He guessed it was her turn for watch.

"I found Alex... "

"Seriously? Sweet! Where is he?"

"Chatting up a local."

He heard a loud curse from Shaun, though he wasn't quite sure what was said since he had to snatch the headset off his ear or risk going deaf.

"Are you bloody serious?" the Brit demanded.

Needless to say, the plan from there was for Desmond to not get caught by the local or Alex, and to just get straight back to the hideout.

"D-Desumond?"

Alas, luck had never been on his side.

He heard another curse from his headset before he took it off and kept it in his pocket, making sure it was at least still on. Hey, if he was gonna get carted off to Templars, may as well give the others a fighting chance. Looking up, Alex was hovering over him, bewildered but clearly still happy. He broke into an excited grin before he grabbed Desmond's arm and practically dragged him towards the person standing in the doorway of the little house.

A girl, he noted right away, and she was very clearly a foreigner. She almost reminded him of Leonardo, if he'd ever had kids anyway. She had the same kind look as the Renaissance artist. Her hair was, maybe, a little bit more golden, and her eyes maybe a bit bluer, but other than that she had quite a resemblance. Maybe it was just coincidental.

"Can I help you?" she asked, startling him. She had an Italian accent, but she was definitely speaking English. She looked to Alex when the Japanese boy spoke excitedly in his foreign tongue, too quickly for Desmond to even guess what he was saying. Something amusing must have been said, because she giggled before looking back at the American. "You have an interesting brother."

Desmond couldn't keep the stutter out of his voice when he quickly said "H-He's not my brother!"

"Not even adopted?"

"N-No... "

She shrugged, waving her hand. Alex spoke again, asking something, and — to Desmond's complete shock — she replied back in the same language! Whatever it was had the boy let out a whoop before his wings vanished and he was dashing into the house, much to the girl's amusement.

The American could only stare. And so stare he did.

"He is very easy to please, isn't he?" the girl asked, catching Desmond's attention. "Like a, ah... bambino... " She gestured, clearly struggling for the word.

"Like a kid," he offered.

"Sí! And you know Italiano!" A pause, or more like a hum, as the blond girl surveyed him. "So you are 'Desumond.'"

"Desmond, yeah. I only know a little Italian."

"Ah, sí, sí. I did think it was just his accent. Now I know!" He gave her an amused smile, which she returned. "Sono Mikhaila. Would you like to come inside?"

"I don't know—"

"Alex won't be leaving soon." This caught his attention, and now Desmond was regarding her suspiciously. Still, Mikhaila didn't seem to be threatening. Her words were innocent enough, he decided. It helped when she gestured inside. "He is making food for his... 'tomodachi,' as he called it. I can only grasp at words and their meanings. Giapponese é confusione." (1)

"You know more than I do," Desmond said, shrugging slightly.

"Well, come, come! The cold air is getting in!"

He wasn't left with much choice, following her into the house and only praying that he would be let out again. He could already imagine the others panicking and trying to come up with a plan. So far, though, Mikhaila didn't seem like a threat. In fact, she seemed... perfectly normal.

"Your name isn't very Italian... "

"It's Russian, yes. Mama rather liked the names." She led him to the kitchen-slash-dining room, where Alex was already halfway through whatever it was he was making. And it smelled amazing, too, oh god...

"I see... but you're definitely Italian?"

"Sí. Mama e papa taught me inglese — English, if you will. And I learned giapponese on my own, out of curiousity! It is such a nice language."

"But you know what Alex is saying," Desmond said, since this was really the thing that got him.

"Don't you?"

"W—I kinda just found him a few days ago." Damn. He'd almost slipped. It apparently went unnoticed, however, as the girl only beckoned for him to continue. "Plus, Japanese isn't really on my list of languages to learn."

Now Alex was putting some finishing touches. Mikhaila stepped over, and Desmond looked as well. And yes, it did all look so amazing, but also like a typical-style, Japanese lunchbox. From rice to omelets, even some vegetables. Sure, the containers were less than perfect, but the smell alone was making him seriously hungry now.

"W-Want to try?" Alex asked, looking up at Desmond. The accent was still thick, but the words were definitely English. He must've looked confused, because the Japanese boy looked questioningly at Mikhaila, who only reassured him in his native tongue.

"Uh... sure?" Was that the right answer? Apparently yes, as Alex offered up a small portion of food. Really, he just didn't want to offend the boy, so Desmond ate the portion. And yes, yes it was the not fantastic thing he'd ever had in his life. Not that he was unbiased, having lived off instant and unperishable foods for the past few years. It had been a while since he'd had any kind of homemade... well, anything.

Alex was still looking at him expectantly, so Desmond grinned and gave him nodded. "It's good!" And the younger boy looked so relieved and excited that he nearly fumbled in putting together the rest of the containers.

That night, after Desmond and Alex went back to the Sanctuary (and in record time, too, since the sun was almost up), they naturally got an earful from Lucy and Shaun. Rebecca was more or less calmed by the prospect of decent food.

They all could agree, though, that this was the first time in a long time that they'd had any kind of decent food.

Ezio never saw it coming.

After he'd broken Catarina Sforza out of the Castello, he had barely been surprised to find all the guards of the Vatican, plus the many other Borgia guards, either chasing them or waiting to kill them. It was a miracle in and of itself that Catarina was able to get away the way she did.

... Well... maybe it was also due to his own skill. At least a little.

Now, though...

"M-Merda! Kill the demon!"

There was very little Ezio, himself, could do. They had been fighting the entirety of the Vatican's guards, after all. There had to be over twenty, all just to kill him and Kouwashi for breaking Catarina out. And he would admit, in his age, Ezio was beginning to get slower, more easily susceptible to getting injuries and taking a much longer time to heal from them.

He had been fighting at least five guards, and the sixth had gone unnoticed. He only realized the sixth was there when he'd felt a sharp stab through his side, teeth grit as he forced himself not to scream in pain, which is what his instinct was demanding he do. Ezio wouldn't give the Borgia that kind of satisfaction, though. That did not prevent him from dropping to the ground, of course.

Kouwashi, however, had yelled.

And following that yell was a bright flash of golden light before the world around them greyed, time practically slowed to a crawl. What felt like an eternity must have been only a few split seconds as he watched the foreign Assassin, watching golden wings sprout out. They impaled any and all guards near, and in that moment time returned to normal. Guards dropped as soon as the blades wings withdrew. Kouwashi flew to Ezio, took him, and deposited him in a safe ally nearby before returning to the fight.

After that, Kouwashi flew into a rampage. His dance of blades had an even deadlier feel to it, wings and weapons slicing any guards brave enough to try and fight them before most of them just turned tail and fled. And even then, none seemed able to escape from the foreigner's deadly rampage.

Ezio stood with difficulty, hand pressing into his side to stem some of the blood flow. He knew how bad this situation was, especially when the blades of the wings did a wide, sweeping arc, and managed to catch not just guards now, but horses and civilians as well. Nothing was safe. The streets and buildings were red. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Anything still alive and breathing had likely fled by now.

Kouwashi had gone berserk. Only this time, Ezio was on his own and bleeding badly.

He needed to be stopped, though.

"Maestro!"

Perhaps luck was on his side, for he felt a pair of hands grab him before his face met with the road — not that he'd been aware of that until now. Shaking his head of the dizziness plaguing him, he looked up to see Antonio, one of the older of the Assassin recruits. Ezio managed a weak grin, attempting to straighten up only to fail miserably.

"M-Maestro, you are hurt," Antonio said quickly, practically forcing Ezio to lean on him more. Not that there was much of a choice. "Please, tell me what happened! Why is Kouwashi like that? How did—" Antonio sucked in a breath, and Ezio knew he must have glimpsed the scene around Kouwashi again. "Tanto sangue... " (2)

"We... need to stop him... " Was that his voice? Ezio wanted to cringe, suddenly aware of just how much blood he was losing. His body felt so heavy and weak. "He'll hurt himself... !"

"M-Maestro, forgive me, but Kouwashi seems perfectly fine from—"

"No!" Ezio snapped fiercely, and Antonio actually cringed. He didn't know how he knew, or why, but he just did. The way Kouwashi was right now, with the wings, how he seemed to be drawing upon an endless supply of power, he just had this... this feeling that Kouwashi would end up in a far more serious situation than he was.

"Ready your weapons!"

The Assassins looked up quickly, ducking further into the shadows to watch as a circle of Borgia riflemen gathered around Kouwashi, seeming to trap him. The blue-clad demon – for 'Assassin' was hardly a fitting term in his present state – seemed to care little for it, only watching with feral look in his eyes. The wings, however, stiffened and drew closer, and Ezio cursed as he knew what was about to happen.

He didn't shout, didn't yell, didn't even warn his pupil. He simply grabbed Antonio and pulled him to the ground, laying him down flat. Ezio couldn't even answer his question before, like earlier, time slowed down and the blades of the wings shot out, slowly, managing to impale a vast majority of the riflemen surrounding their user.

When time returned, however, it was the collapsing of the building beside them that had him cautious to get up (though he had a tough time doing so anyway). With Antonio's help, Ezio was back on his feet, grunting in discomfort but urging his pupil to help survey the damage, especially when he saw a few lucky souls managing to escape from the scene.

Viewing it from the shelter of the alley was nothing. Everything in that square was a single coat of red, and bodies were everywhere. Innocent and Borgia, Ezio noticed grimly.

And Kouwashi was nowhere in sight.

After that, Ezio wasn't aware of what happened next. He assumed it was his lost blood catching up to him. Everything was a blur for the next few weeks, topped off with a mixture of pain and disorientation. He couldn't tell up from down, left from right. Sometimes he wondered if he was dead, or if he was even still among allies, because he often felt awful. One of the few moments he could recall was being awake long enough to endure a fierce hug from Claudia, and having a short lecture by his mother about taking better care of himself.

During most of the time, he dreamt. He dreamt of nothing and everything. For whatever reason, he kept seeing Kouwashi. Kouwashi and his homeland, his training. If he had to guess, he'd say he was seeing the young Assassin's memories, but he wasn't even sure of that even. Yet the land he saw, he couldn't deny its beauty. He had to step back and wonder why Kouwashi had left to begin with. There was also, very obviously, a girl waiting for the foreigner back in his homeland. A beautiful girl, at that. Looking right at her made Ezio question if she was lover or sibling, but he never had that much of a glimpse at her.

Sometimes he dreamt of his own memories, seeing his father and brothers, and the times he had before their deaths. Other times, he'd remember the Apple of Eden and its relation to the Wings on Kouwashi's back.

Most disturbing of all was seeing the young boy — not Assassin — curled up in the middle of the darkest, fog-ridden place Ezio had ever seen, in dream or otherwise. This was, perhaps, the most mysterious of all, for when he tried to approach, he was immediately met with a set of walls building around him until a full maze was built that he couldn't even begin navigate, no matter how hard he tried.

Finally, when he could be coherent for a normal amount of time, he could see Leonardo, sitting by his side reading a book, and looking as haggard as ever. Ezio grimaced, both from attempting move and from his friend's look. The action didn't go unnoticed. Leonardo was on him in an instant, beaming ear-to-ear and dropping his book in the process.

"Ezio! You're awake!" he exclaimed excitedly. The Assassin grunted when the artist hugged him a little too tightly, though he waved away the apologies. Leonardo helped him to sit up, stacking pillows behind him.

"How long have I been gone?" Ezio asked.

"Just... Just a little over a week. But you must understand, amico mio, you were very injured!"

That still didn't help the cold hand clenching his gut. A week. He'd been gone a week. A week in which the Borgia could have risen more in power, gained more supplies and men to aid in their army.

"And what of Kouwashi?"

"He's... " Leonardo closed his mouth, turning away. He even took off his hat in favour of running a hand through his hair. Finally, he turned his eyes back to Ezio. "I am sorry... no one has been able to find him... and the Borgia want him killed on sight."

He was surprised by how little effort it took to get his body up and moving at those words, despite Leonardo's protests and attempts to stop him. Ezio only shrugged him off, proclaiming where he was going. The artist would have none of it, however, and the two had started arguing even — arguing, the two best friends who had known each other for years! It was only after a sharp, and perhaps unnecessary and unintentional, jab to his side that Ezio was slowed down a little, forced to lean against whoever it was who had caught him.

Machiavelli.

"Are you that eager to die?" the nobleman asked, a scowl in his features. "It would take very little for one of the Borgia drunks to take you out as you are."

"I can't afford to stay down any longer," Ezio practically growled, in no mood to put up with Machiavelli"s tongue. "And I have to fix this mess."

"What mess? As far as the Borgia know, you are dead. They are spending every one of their able-bodied men on finding that mostro of a shadow you had. We are much lower on their list of priorities now than we were."

"They won't be able to kill him!"

"Or find him, for that matter." The voice startled the two, rounding on Leonardo who seemed to have realized something. Ezio must have shown his confusion, because the artist cleared his throat and stepped forward. He gestured to something behind the Assassin. "May I?" Ezio nodded, and stood perfectly still as Leonardo seemed to pick something off of him — his hair, more precisely. He instinctively spun around to face the artist when his hair was let loose from its ribbon, prepared to demand just what was going on.

Leonardo, however, simply took the ribbon he now had and placed it on the bed. By now, the artist was smiling, as if he'd understood something that no one else was seeing. And then the ribbon glowed, briefly and so quickly that it would have been missed had no one been staring right at it, but it glowed. A familiar golden glow that didn't need the second appearance to indicate what it was.

"Fascinating," Leonardo said simply.

"What?" Ezio asked, picking up the ribbon cautiously. "How did... what am I missing here?"

"My guess is that our little eagle plans on coming back," Machiavelli pitched in. He sighed, simply dusting off his clothes and readjusting his gloves, even as Ezio looked between the two men, bewildered.

A/N - OHMY. AM I LATE? Yes, yes I am. Apologies. Finals are coming up. Only one translation for today.

(1) "Japanese is confusing."

(2) - "So much blood... " (Roughly)