Chapter 10: A Day Off

A/N: Yes, Cesare is extremely dense, but it's not his fault—the demons don't exactly help. By the way, the tension between Chiaro and Volpe only gets worse, just so you know.

Chiaro stayed asleep for a few minutes after Cesare got up, but then he shivered a little and sat up, stretching, and shivering again. He straightened and stared into space for a moment.

"Good morning," Cesare said smiling. "You seem unusually tired."

Chiaro didn't reply for a moment, but then he blinked and looked at Cesare. "Morning," he said, returning the smile. "Hey, what's the date today?"

"April the fourth."

"Ah. That's why." He sighed a little, got out of bed and crossed to the window.

"Are you all right?" Cesare asked.

"Yes." He paused, then turned to Cesare. His eyes were strange, uncertain. Like he wanted to say or ask for something, but wasn't sure how. "Hey… what are you doing today?"

"Meeting with my father this morning and having lunch with the Archbishop of Germany. I hope he speaks either Latin or Italian, because I'd rather not have to rely on the demons to teach me German." He was always a little worried they made him say things he didn't intend to say.

"Do they do that?" Chiaro asked, sounding disturbed.

"Of course. Fortunately, I'm fluent in enough languages that they usually don't have to. Unfortunately, my German is fairly limited."

"What about this evening?"

This was odd. Chiaro didn't usually like his day laid out so completely. "Official dinner. And unfortunately, I can't miss it."

Chiaro frowned. "So… you really don't have any free time today." He sounded disappointed.

"Not really." He looked at Chiaro, confused. "Why?"

Chiaro looked out the window again. "Then… could I possibly have a day off?"

Cesare blinked. "A day off?" He didn't like the sound of that at all.

"It's the anniversary of my father's death. I haven't been to his grave in several years, and… I'd like to take him flowers, and maybe visit a few places around where I used to live."

Cesare didn't respond immediately.

"I don't have to," Chiaro said quickly, sensing his reluctance. "It was just an idea. I can go a different time… and it's not like he'd know the difference." He came over to help with the laces of the cardinal's robe Cesare had just put on. "Besides, I should probably be there if the demons are going to be helping you speak German, so they don't get out of control."

Cesare said nothing. Could he really deny the only request Chiaro had ever made of him, other than their becoming friends? It was only one day. And Chiaro was obviously homesick. Besides, it only stood to reason that he would occasionally want a break from being Cesare's companion, even if he did like him. "No," he said, smiling. "You should go and visit your father. I don't think one day off in six years of service is too much to ask," he added with a wink.

Chiaro looked surprised. "Um… it's all right, I don't have to."

"No, I want you to. Go visit your father. You need a rest, anyway."

"Are you sure?"

Cesare thought ruefully that that hadn't taken much convincing. "Of course."

"Can I… go without my mask?"

"If you think you'll be safe."

"Of course. Um… any chance I could have a few coins to buy lunch?"

Cesare rolled his eyes and gave a laugh. "Chiaro, you can buy whatever you want. Just take a bag of coins, I don't care."

"You're sure this is all right? Will you be okay without me?"

"I think I can handle myself for a day," Cesare replied, putting a hand on Chiaro's shoulder. "You should go enjoy yourself."

Chiaro smiled hesitantly. "All right. I'll be back this evening, then?"

This evening. Such a very long time to be without his angel. Cesare shook off the thought and smiled. "I'll see you then."

Chiaro grinned and gave Cesare a hug, then quickly changed into casual clothes and left. Cesare felt a curious emptiness rush through him as he watched Chiaro walk away, but he shook it off. Chiaro would be back tonight. But the thought kept recurring, and the demons picked it up and whispered it at him. He wanted a break from you. He wanted a day when he didn't have to be your companion. Of course. Do you really think anyone would want to be with you all the time? Cesare sighed. He didn't have time for this. "Chiaro loves me," he said aloud. The words rang false in his own ears. Not because Chiaro didn't act like he loved Cesare, but because it was impossible. "Chiaro loves me," he said again, louder. "He held me last night and hugged me goodbye, and he'll be back tonight, because he loves me." He put on the stupid hat and adjusted it. Why were people so obsessed with hats?

"Master Cesare?"

Cesare turned to see Volpe. Volpe who had never asked for a day off. Because Volpe didn't mind that Cesare was completely twisted and unlovable. He liked Cesare's demons. Someone like Volpe could be his constant companion, but not Chiaro. He didn't deserve Chiaro. "Yes?"

"Where is Chiaro going?"

"I gave him the day off so he could go and visit his father's grave."

Volpe paused. "He needs an entire day for that?"

"He also wanted to visit his hometown. I think he was feeling nostalgic because it's the anniversary of his father's death."

"Don't you need him today?"

"I'll be fine without him."

"Still, though… it was hardly an emergency. His first priority should be you."

"His first priority is me," Cesare said. "This is the only request he's ever made of me. I can grant it if I so choose. Please keep your opinions to yourself."

"Yes, Master Cesare," Volpe replied, bowing.

…

It was a beautiful day, and Chiaro was pleased upon arriving at his father's grave to find that his flowers were almost unnecessary; there were morning glory vines grown up around the crude cross he had planted there, and poppies all around. It seemed so peaceful; such a contrast to the man his father had been, and the life he now led. But somehow, Chiaro found this comforting rather than ironic. Perhaps there was still some possibility of peace, not only for Chiaro, but for Cesare as well. He wanted so badly for Cesare to find peace.

Chiaro sighed, leaning back against a tree. He wished Cesare had been able to come with him. It was lonely visiting a grave without any company, and he considered simply going back now. He might get there in time for Cesare's visit with the German archbishop. Then again… he didn't know when he would have the opportunity again to visit his hometown, and he'd wanted to for a while now. And Cesare had seemed fine with him going. And he really wanted a break from being Michelotto, if only for a day.

He headed down to town. He was a little cautious about meeting the people he had previously stolen from, but all seemed fairly good-natured about it now. That had been years ago. Chiaro found himself slipping back into the carefree role of a peasant as he shopped for his lunch and later his supper, chatting and bartering with the shopkeepers, catching up on the latest news, finding out who had ended up marrying whom and whether they had children.

But still, Chiaro was lonely. His best friend wasn't here, and none of these people were people he had ever been particularly close to, even if they treated him as one of them and he clearly fit into this world better than into Cesare's. And when there turned out to be a spring dance that evening, Chiaro knew what he wanted to do. After all, by now Cesare should be finished with his official dinner, right? Smiling, Chiaro left the dance, promising to return, and rode back toward home.

…

Cesare stood by the window, looking out, although he really didn't know which direction Chiaro would be coming from when he returned. If he returned. He might not. Cesare's heart ached. He wished the demons wouldn't rub it in. This morning he'd still been trying to convince them that Chiaro actually loved him, but he'd long since given that up. Now he was only trying to convince himself that something would compel Chiaro to return. Amazing the clarity being alone with whispering demons gave him.

He remembered when Chiaro had first come to him, and he'd told himself that if he managed to keep Chiaro from smelling the cleaner air and greener grass away from his master's presence, Chiaro wouldn't have as much reason to leave. If he didn't allow Chiaro to make other friends, Chiaro would only have him. Now he had let Chiaro loose to get a taste of freedom from being the devil's assassin. What, if anything, would make him want to return? Pity?

Cesare closed his eyes. Back to that. It was the only thing that made any sense to him. Chiaro pitied him, so he stayed, and held the demons at bay, and told him he loved him. Maybe Chiaro even thought he did love Cesare, but chances were much higher that he'd said it so Cesare would feel better, because he pitied Cesare. And the only reason he pitied Cesare was because he was an angel. But eventually an angel would tire of working for the devil, wouldn't he? Especially if he were allowed a taste of freedom.

Cesare opened his eyes, blinking them. He didn't want to hold Chiaro against his will, but more than that—a thousand times more than that—he didn't want Chiaro to leave. If Chiaro left, he was utterly hopeless. But he didn't want to strangle Chiaro. Not that it really made a difference. Regardless of what he did or didn't do, Chiaro could never love him. His presence was a burden Chiaro had needed a respite from, and he'd finally found the courage to ask for it.

"Shouldn't he be back by now?" Volpe's voice from the door made Cesare start a little.

"I don't know," Cesare said, not looking at him.

"I still can't figure out why you let him go if you want him here."

Cesare turned and glared at him. "I was attempting to act like a friend, not that you would know anything about that."

There was no response. The silence hung in the air. "Do you think he will come back?" Volpe asked.

"Yes!" Cesare said firmly. He straightened. "In fact, I'm going to go look for him."

"If he's going to come back, why do you need to look for him?"

"Something might have happened."

One of Volpe's eyebrows arched slightly. "Why don't I go and find him?"

"No. I'll go. Stay here."

"Yes, Cesare."

Cesare walked out into the streets and realized he had absolutely no idea where to look. He'd been primarily trying to escape Volpe's questions, not that the demons weren't still asking him the exact same thing. Except that they weren't asking—they were telling. He could never love you. You're nothing but a pitiful burden to him. How could he? You don't deserve him… you should never have let him go. He'll never come back to you now.

Cesare stopped, trying to think. He had once believed Chiaro loved him. There must have been some reason. He tried to think of all the things Chiaro had said to him, but they all rang false… except one thing, one memory that nearly made him sick. He had told Chiaro to tell him what he wanted. Chiaro's face had changed and become serious, and he had looked at his hands and said he didn't know. But he obviously had known, but hadn't wanted to say. Was what Chiaro wanted most… his freedom?

Without any real contemplation, Cesare found himself on a bridge overlooking the river Tiber. If he jumped, would he die? Would the demons let him die? He'd already tried it once. What if he did die? Would Chiaro mourn his passing? Feel regret that he hadn't been able to save Cesare's soul, while exulting in his freedom, albeit a bit guiltily? The world would hardly lose some great hero if he chose to jump. On the contrary, many would breathe sighs of relief. The only person who might be truly disappointed would be Volpe, who would never get to see his master seize the reins of hell… or try to do so, at any rate. That was something Chiaro would never want to see.

Really… perhaps dying now would be best. Chiaro wouldn't have to kill him. He could give Chiaro his freedom… do something for him, for once. But… he didn't want to die. There was still a chance he might see Chiaro again if he stayed alive, but there would be no Chiaro in hell. But could he really hold Chiaro prisoner because of his selfish desire to see him again? Cesare frowned, beginning to feel like there was something a bit off in his reasoning, but it didn't really matter anymore.

We will never abandon you.

Cesare sighed. "Go away," he muttered.

Truly, we will not. You are not meant to be with angels. Stop chasing the light and come to us. We will give you all you desire.

"Except Chiaro," Cesare replied. "Go away." They continued to whisper to him, pressing against him, surrounding him. They were heavy and made it hard to breathe. Cesare felt tears on his face and didn't bother to rub them away. There was no one to see, no one to care. He had no one. Chiaro had left him, and only the demons wanted him now. Correction—only the demons had ever wanted him. He looked down into the water again. He was so tired of fighting, and he didn't want to give in. If he jumped, would that struggle at least be over?

…

Chiaro began to sense that something was amiss as soon as he approached the mansion. He paused for a moment, trying to sense if Cesare needed him, but Cesare wasn't calling him. Still feeling a little uneasy, he went inside. "Cesare?" he called as he approached the main room.

"Oh, so you did come back."

Startled, Chiaro turned to see Volpe coming into the room. "Of course."

"Master Cesare was beginning to think you wouldn't."

"Was he?" Oh no. Chiaro shook his head. "Could you let him know I'm here?"

"He left, to go look for you."

Chiaro blinked. "He did?" He'd been that worried? "How long ago?"

"Five or ten minutes, perhaps."

"Thanks for letting me know." Chiaro started to leave, but a hand grasped his shoulder. "What?" he asked, turning to Volpe.

"What are you doing to him lately?" he asked icily.

"What do you mean?" Chiaro asked, though he knew exactly what Volpe meant.

"He is going to get himself killed if you keep wearing away at his ruthlessness like this. He is in too powerful of a position. He cannot afford to become so attached to a mere peasant that he begins to see him as a friend rather than a servant."

Chiaro jerked his shoulder away from Volpe's grasp. "Maybe Cesare needs a friend, ever think of that? You know, someone who actually cares about his feelings, not just his potential?"

"So you do care about his potential?" Volpe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I care about his heart. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe he is waiting for me." He turned and started to walk away.

"You can't 'save' him," Volpe said.

Chiaro stopped.

"You know you can't," Volpe persisted. "I understood that long ago, which is why I decided instead to help him cope with his destiny rather than vainly try to escape it. All you're doing is postponing the inevitable. You're giving him false hope. It's cruel."

Chiaro set his teeth. His hands were clenched and he was shaking with rage. "There is always hope," he hissed. "I am not going to encourage him to give up the only hope he has. Now, if you will please excuse me." He walked away quickly before Volpe had a chance to say anything else. And Cesare thought they vied for his good graces. Only the two of them knew that they truly battled for his soul.

He took a deep breath of the twilight air when he stepped out into the street, trying to calm himself. On second thought, Cesare, do not treat him as a friend. Avoid him like the plague. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Now, where was Cesare? He couldn't have gone far in five or ten minutes. "Cesare?" he called softly. He tried sensing for the demons, and realized that their absence was the "something wrong" he had felt when approaching the house. Where would Cesare have gone to look? Chiaro didn't exactly have any favorite haunts that suggested themselves. "Come on," he muttered. "Where are you?"

The longer he looked, the more worried he became. Cesare didn't have a guard with him. Even an expert swordsman, if faced by multiple assassins… but then he finally caught the demons' "scent." He followed it quickly, a bit alarmed by just how strong they were, wherever they were. He walked all the way to the Tiber, until he saw a bridge. He stopped, trying to make out what he saw. A mass of demons surrounded a human figure standing at the edge, making it almost unrecognizable as Cesare, though Chiaro knew it was. Cesare's heart seemed to freeze as he suddenly saw in his mind's eye a younger version of Cesare standing at the edge of a rooftop. God, no! "Cesare," he whispered, his voice hoarse. Then he started running, managing at last to find his voice. "Cesare!"

A/N 2: I actually managed a cliffy, what do you know? I'll try to update soon. ;-)