Lucy and Desmond were walking around the Hideout. Shaun watched them from above, nostrils flared and elbows resting on the banister. He could not hear their banter, though the peaks and troughs in their pitch were open to interpretation. It did not stop him from throwing his two bits into the conversation. Lucy was walking on ahead and something Desmond said made her turn around and smile at him.
"Lucy, I like your ass," he grunted, in a terrible Desmond impression.
She turned and said something. "Ooh, thank you, Desmond, I like it too," said Shaun in perfect synch with her moving lips. However, it was uttered with an awful, unrealistic pitch.
Desmond leaned closer to her, whispering something before overtaking. "Why don't you check out mine?" Shaun said gruffly, unable to mask the British accent. Lucy was walking slowly behind Desmond, mute and in deep thought. She seemed oblivious and inattentive to his ramblings as he walked on ahead.
"Look at me, Lucy," Shaun spat, "look at my lovely tight ass and my awesome bartender walk. Look how cool and alpha-male I am- "
"Gee wheez, take it easy James Bond!"
Rebecca was standing behind him. Shaun pushed away from the banister to face her. "James Bond? Why James Bond? Is it my devastating good looks? Is it the gadgets? Oh no, wait a minute!" He pulled at his sweater. "It must be the tux!"
"Whoa, who crapped in your cornflakes, man? I was talking about your accent," she said. Shaun rolled his eyes. Rebecca Crane did not seem to understand his brand of sarcasm. "Here," she said and tossed him a beer can. Shaun caught it with a deft hand. He popped it open and leaned against the banister, his back to Rebecca again. She came and stood next to him, drumming her fingers on the support.
"So…" she smirked, "I guess you were trying your hand at ventriloquism?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said, "it's a lovely little closeted hobby of mine! In fact, when this is all over, I'm going to do shows. You could be the dummy on my lap. Would you like that? We could be the next big bloody, bloody thing after Abott and Costello!"
Rebecca happened to find that funny. "God, your eyes are bulging out against your glasses. And you're all red!" She was holding on to the banister and laughing into her hands. Shaun ignored her and continued to look ahead absently. As if she was never there. Somehow, she managed to restrain herself enough to say – "But I also know about other 'closeted things'."
Shaun took a sip of his beer. "Not liking where this conversation is going, Becca."
Rebecca looked down to see Lucy and Desmond disappear at a turn. "You don't like to see them together, do you?" she asked. Shaun looked at her. Rebecca was still looking at that corner. "Feels weird, huh?"
He looked down but did not answer. Instead, he took another sip from his can. A smaller sip. And he ignored the slight burning tinge that flowed down his throat. It had to be the beer. Rebecca was still talking, her voice soft and understanding.
"I see the way you look at him."
Him? HIM?
Shaun convulsed. And this time his eyes did bulge out. Dangerously. "Him?" he rasped, gagging on his beer.
"Yeah. Desmond."
"You think I – Desmond - ?" He began coughing.
"And your face is getting all red," she said.
Shaun gestured, desperate to convince her that the flush was from thinly concealed irritation. One that was going to flare into unbridled rage. He gave a final cough before firmly emphasizing – "I. Am. Straight!"
"Yeah, sure. And I like girls."
"Don't you?"
"Hell, no!"
"Then why the devil do I get to be the gay one out?"
"You might not be. All you gotta do is ask him."
"Rebecca."
"And you can totally come to me for advice. I'm with you."
"Rebecca. Stop."
"We're allies. Doesn't that make us sound like crime-fighting partners?"
"Rebecca."
Shaun raised a hand to silence her.
"My can."
He pointed to it.
"Your head."
He pointed at her.
"What are the odds of a collision?"
She stared at him.
"Back away," he said, "slowly."
To his utter annoyance, she gave him a crooked smile and took a step back. "Hey guys!" she boomed into the deserted warehouse. "Let's wrap up a final session before we crash, 'kay?"
"Coming!" they heard Lucy say from somewhere before she appeared with Desmond at the bottom of the stairs. Rebecca squeezed his shoulder before leaving. Shaun glared at Desmond, who reacted with a raised eyebrow. Lucy followed behind him, giving Shaun an indecisive half-smile as she walked past. Shaun emptied the last of the beer before crushing it in his hand. It fell with a 'thunk' into the garbage crate. The can reminded Shaun of his own crumpled insides.
Stupid, stupid, stupid… he cursed, wondering how and why he let one woman supersede a greater cause. He steeled himself from within, though an inner voice said his resolve would not last for long. But as he took his position in the room, Shaun Hastings was in his element. Cold, indifferent and an over-informed genius.
"Are you ready, Desmond?" Lucy asked, behind him.
"Yeah," he said and that was all they needed.
The maid-servant, a plump, busty woman, led Ezio into the study. It was a brown room, of varying shades, which flickered in the candle light. Renaissance paintings adorned the walls as did the rare books on the shelves.
"Ezio Auditore!" greeted the man and held out his hand. He led him to a chair. "You have come a long way, my friend."
"And taken longer still to reach, I suppose."
Ezio pulled himself a chair. Raphael Sánchez sat opposite him, across the table. "Your cloak is a little torn. And askew," he observed.
"The guards and I had a little disagreement."
"What about?"
"An executioner was tormenting a heretic. I could not stand by and watch."
"Dare I ask what you did next?"
"I took care of the man. The guards seemed eager to return the favor."
"There seemed to be too many of them," said Raphael, his eyes running over the damaged armor.
"There were," Ezio admitted.
"It seemed as if they used a citizen as bait to lure you out."
"He was a member of the Spanish Thieves Guild. The emblem was branded upon his shoulder."
Raphael rose from his seat and paced the floor. "You must refrain from grand entrances henceforth, Ezio. Keep to the vow of discretion, it will be of use."
"When have I not?"
"The deed which has been entrusted to us is a delicate one. Tomás de Torquemada has been giving our Order much difficulty."
"He is the Inquisitor General, is he not?"
"Indeed, he is. A dog as well, most faithful to the Templar cause."
Ezio nodded and stretched discreetly as the Spanish nobleman continued. He winced at the sharp pain, realizing only then how much more severe the damage would have been had the woman not rescued him. It was a detail he had omitted in his narration. If she valued her anonymity, Ezio would not snatch it away from her.
"Torquemada," continued Raphael, "works in close counsel with Rodrigo Borgia."
It perked Ezio's interest. "He works for the Spaniard?"
"Si, Ezio. He has given Torquemada a list of names. All of them Spanish assassins. They are to be executed as heretics."
"I will find them," said Ezio, determined and ready.
"We will do so together," said Raphael. "Come now, Ezio. Your journey has been long."
Ezio followed Raphael to the dining hall. "You do know how to treat your guests, Raphael," he smiled.
The wooden table was alit by candles, heightening the sense of visual. The collective aromas wafted through the air, overpowering the nostrils with the tangy scent of spices and herbs. The table was generously stacked with wine and exotic dishes Ezio had never seen. Raphael had gone much beyond his way to be hospitable. Even if he had greatly over-estimated the assassin's appetite.
"Consider yourself at home, Ezio." Raphael took a seat.
"I see nothing amiss that should make me think otherwise," said Ezio. "You seem to know my preferences better than I do, Raphael."
"Ah," said the nobleman with twinkling eyes, "I know a great deal more."
"Like what?" asked Ezio in subtle challenge.
"I know of your boyhood years, your allies and your relations. Even of the deeply clandestine ones."
Ezio's hand froze when he heard that. His eyes rose slowly from the plate into Raphael's.
"I meant the lovely Cristina Vespucci, of course," said the man before him, mistaking his numbness for curiosity.
Ezio dropped his knife back into the plate. He got up slowly from the table. "I think I would like to dress for supper."
Even as he left the room, Raphael noticed the bitterness behind the courtesy and realized that he had overstepped a line.
They packed away for the night. Desmond lumbered back into his room, shutting the door behind him. Shaun retreated into his with a laptop.
"Coming, Luce?" asked Rebecca as she entered the room they shared.
"In a moment," said Lucy.
She waited for the warehouse to still, the shadows to lengthen. And then, Lucy stretched and walked to an open window in the room. She looked out of it, welcoming the cool night breeze as it rolled along her face, through her hair. Life seemed simpler in those moments. It ceased to be a web of deceit, a game of snakes and ladders. Life, for her, then became an instant frozen in time.
It was in the air she breathed, in the bustling streets of Italy and in everything from the ground below to the skies above. She valued these moments greatly now, with the wistfulness of a condemned man. Through the path she had chosen of her own free will, Lucy Stillman knew these little instances were numbered. She only hoped that her fellow Assassins would not suffer greatly for it.
They were meant to be just colleagues, but human nature and looming danger endeared them to her. Much more than she had wanted. Especially when it came to a certain bespectacled historian and their own… clandestine exchange from the night before.
Where did that even come from?
They had just been talking. He was being nice, actually being nice, being sympathetic. Being a friend. And then he had moved in. Lucy had been stunned, not so much by the gesture, as by her reaction to it. She accorded it to purely physical reasons, since neither she nor Shaun really gave away an inkling of affection for each other. Thinking about it only made her tingle inside so she decided against it.
Lucy walked back into her room, and found Rebecca curled like a fetus on the bed. And then she heard sniveling.
"Becca?"
She heard more muffled sounds coming through her pillow. Lucy got down to her knees on the mattress and shook her by the shoulder. "Becca. Hey…"
"Lucy… ?" croaked Rebecca, in the darkness.
"What's wrong?" she asked the dark-haired girl.
"It's nothing…"
"Becca."
Lucy curled up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. "You can tell me, you know that, right?"
She could hear Rebecca sigh with a tremor. "I just miss home."
"I know…" said Lucy and stroked her own, "I miss it too. So very much."
"There doesn't seem a point in things sometimes, you know? Like, why bother?"
Her voice was thick. Lucy could feel her tears. She wiped them off Rebecca's face.
"Because it's war, Rebecca. Everything is permitted."
Rebecca wiped her tears on her t-shirt. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't even be listening to this."
"I want to. Talk to me."
"I'll be fine, Lucy. I'm just being silly."
"You're not being silly at all, Becca. It's not silly to miss the life you've had. The wonderful memories you created."
Rebecca did not answer. Lucy continued. "You've got to be strong, Becca. And when you think back to the time you spent with your family, I want you to be happy. Take your happiest memory, hold onto it and never, never, let go."
"Thanks," said Rebecca. Lucy's eyes adjusted to the dark and she saw her smile. "Anytime, hon," she said to Rebecca.
"I… I guess you're the only one I can talk to. I don't know Desmond that well and Shaun's an idiot."
Lucy laughed. "He is, isn't he?"
"And I think he likes Desmond."
Lucy stopped laughing only to resume with a greater force. "Where - how - ?" she managed between spurts.
"Should've seen the way he was watching you two today. In-tense."
Lucy gave the visual a thought and chuckled. Rebecca joined in. "I think trashing Shaun's the best way to go when you're sad," said Lucy.
"Maybe it is," smiled Rebecca.
"Want me to get you some water now? Wash down all the angst?"
"That'd be great, thanks."
Lucy swung herself out of bed and into the corridor. The sudden stream of light from the kitchen momentarily blinded her. She let her eyes adjust yet again before entering. "Hey," she said to Shaun, who snapped his head up at the acknowledgment.
"Hey," he said back.
"You're up late."
"Just making myself some tea." He paused, watching it bubble. "Want some?" he asked as an afterthought.
"No, thanks. I was just here to get Rebecca a bottle of water."
"Is she alright?"
"Just a little homesick."
He nodded in understanding and did not ask any further questions. Lucy appreciated his discretion. She reached across the counter for the bottle just as Shaun's arm went perpendicular for the small can of milk. Somewhere in that unfortunate, careless moment, there was definite grazing… and groping. They froze for that cold awkward second, before Shaun gasped and jumped backwards. Right into the wall.
"I – I – I was just going for the milk, I swear!"
He pressed himself against the wall. Lucy looked down to her left breast, the recipient of the accidental caress. "Well Shaun, it's early days yet."
Her attempt at humor was lost on him. Completely.
"I didn't mean to, I am so, so sorry," he spluttered.
"Shaun…"
Lucy stepped a little closer to him.
"Shaun, it's okay."
She gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.
"Sorry…" he still said, his mind groping, no, struggling, for a better word.
Lucy sighed and put the bottle she was holding back on the counter.
"Shaun, I want to say something."
She became grave and Shaun loosened up slightly, her seriousness stirring his. He sensed nervousness from her end. "It's about last night."
Shaun felt nervous too now. Lucy took a deep breath. "I don't want it to spoil what's between us."
Shaun just blinked. Lucy knitted her hands together, leaning forward as she considered her next words. "Shaun, I have to say this. I've known people, a lot of men over the years. But it always felt weird… like an undercurrent." She stilled and looked into his eyes.
"I trust you," she said and meant it. "Let's please not have last night get in the way."
Get in the way.
It hurt when he heard that. So it never meant a thing. It was just a mere inconvenience, a small hitch. Which meant he was just a 'friend.'
Just a friend.
He hated the phrase, hated the word. Lucy gave him a nervous smile. "So… can we be normal again?"
Shaun forced himself to smile back. "Sure."
Lucy stepped forward, hesitating before putting an arm around him for a friendly hug.
Friendly hug.
Shaun was beginning to hate it too. He brought an arm awkwardly around her, damning her light gold hair for being so soft against his cheek. She pulled away. "Good night, Shaun."
"Yeah. Good night," he said to her and she left with the bottle.
Shaun stared at the doorway before turning to the stove. The tea had spilled over. He ran a hand across his small spikes, and then tugged at them in frustration. He hated a mess. Especially the man-made ones. Cursing, he grabbed a mop from behind the kitchen door.
Stupid, stupid, stupid… he muttered and got down to work.
Author's note: I will try and make the future chapters more interesting. Still hope you like this one. R&R, yes? :D