Part Two

Chapter 9

Alexander Hernandez:

The first thing he registers when he opens his eyes is the throbbing pain in his head. The next is the pungent odor of stale beer and what is probably vomit. And the very last thing he notices is that he is still in Monteriggioni.

In the same Tavern from last night.

And he is not alone.

"My friend, you are awake," a loud booming voice calls him, and he groans at the way the voice bounces around in his skull. It's way too early and way too loud for him not to groan. He flinches away from the voice even though he knows there's no actual threat, but it feels like his heads about to be split in two.

What happened last night?

He can't find the answer even as he rummages his brain for it. The last he remembers is drinking one too many cups of ale, the promise of more fun, and then it all goes blank. It takes him a quick, terrifying second to figure out if his clothes are still on. Once he realizes he's still fully clothed, he sags back in relief.

Anna would kill him if he even dared.

"What in the world?" he asks, eyes opening against the soft, yet still too bright, candlelight to look up at Mario. While Alexander feels like he got run over by a very big, very angry horse, Mario looks better than ever. "What happened last night?"

"Ah," Mario says, offering his hand to help Alexander to his feet. He takes it slowly, steeling himself for the harsh pull he knows is coming. Mario doesn't disappoint. With a harsh yank, he had Alexander on his feet almost too quickly for him to catch himself. "On our way to the swirl, we were waylaid by a few of my men who figured us climbing up a ladder as drunk as we were was probably not the best idea to begin with."

He can see that happening.

Considering they had less walked out of the tavern and more stumbled out, he can see why they had been stopped by concerned individuals. But that doesn't explain why he'd woken up on the ground, surrounded by other equally drunk people. Or once equally drunk, at least.

"And then?" he asks because there is more. He just knows there is. Someone doesn't wake up on the ground with a wicked hangover from just that. Luckily his feet are sturdier under him than he would have thought. So much so that the world doesn't spin or blur as stands up.

"Well, we kept drinking, of course!"

"Of course," Alexander mutters, stretching to shake out some of the soreness in his muscles. They're all cramping horribly from a night spent on a hard floor and the fall that probably dumped him on it. Nothing short of falling, piss drunk would get him to willing sleep on the floor, after all. "What time is it?"

"It is just past mid-day," Mario says happily, almost bouncing in his steps as he begins to move towards the exit. "You sure can hold your ale, Alexander," Mario praises him, voice still loud as he either ignores Alexander's headache or is completely oblivious to it. "Though I do not think your wife felt much the same."

"My wife?"

Then it hits him like a truck.

The world is spinning, drastically and too fast for him to stop it as his legs suddenly tangle under him. Somewhere he hears muffled laughs and words too slurred and jumbled to make out. Just as suddenly as it started, the world stops with a horrible thud. One that shakes him to the core as his body collides onto something hard and unforgiving.

His cup goes flying from his hands, scattering away from him and spilling all its contents onto the body in front of him. One that doesn't even register it's been drenched because the man is just as lost as he is.

Drunk.

He's drunk, he registered belatedly, hands reaching for the cup even though it's useless now. He's spilled his ale but, hey, refill. He only just manages to grip his cup before he's hauled to his feet. Shaking the hands off him, he doesn't even turn to look at who it is, just mumbles something that sounds close enough to a curse to satisfy him as he ambles to where the barmaid is.

Or where he thinks she is.

"Alexander Hernandez," someone calls and he turns enough to catch sight of wavy blonde hair and a glimpse of crystal, albeit angry, blue eyes. "If you do not stop trying to drink, right this instant, I will leave you here."

Confused, he stares back into his cup, weighing his options. It's empty, so very upsettingly empty. What was he doing again? Oh, yeah, refill. He turns to search out the barmaid again. Not seeing the anger that blazes in those crystal blue eyes.

"Fine," someone huffs, he tries to ignore them, he really does, but suddenly there are fingers on his ear that twists and pulls. He yelps, pulling back too quickly and too harshly to hold himself when his ear slips free. "Stay here then, you drunk bastard."

He's on the ground again before he even knows what's happened, cup well and truly lost even as he searches for it. More laughter erupts around him, but he doesn't know who they're laughing at. Not that he really cares, either way. Not when his eyelids feel pleasantly heavy and the soft cushion under him even more pleasantly soft. That it's not really a cushion but another drunk bastard is none of his concern.

Well, damn.

"Oh shit, my wife," he mutters, recognizing those blue eyes now that the ale isn't clouding his thoughts. She's going to kill him. Then she's going to bring him back from the dead just to kill him again, he just knows it. Groaning he stumbles towards the door and out into the fresh breeze. "How did she even?"

"I sent one of my men to call her when you first fell," Mario tells him cheerfully, there's a proud tone to his voice that says he should be praised for thinking of that. Alexander isn't sure what look he has on his face, but whatever Mario sees has him backtracking, "Don't worry, my men will not tell a soul what they saw beyond the swirl. They can be trusted."

Not exactly what he was worried about, honestly.

"Anna's going to kill me," Alexander mutters instead of attempting to clear up Mario's misunderstanding. Not only did Mario reveal to Anna about Alexander's secret escapades to the other worlds, he probably scared her to death by sending Assassins into her home. Where she was alone.

If he thought he had any chance of his darling wife forgiving him, it's gone now. Especially with how long it has taken him to get home. Not waiting for Mario's reply, Alexander races away. Hangover and headache be damned, if he's been gone this long already there'll be no making it up to her now. Not without a lot of groveling and, the longer he takes, there more groveling there will be.

The climb up the ladder to the swirls is more of a workout then he thought it would be. Given his current state, he figures he should have been expecting it. As it is, he doesn't even take a second to catch his breath. He just jumps through the swirl almost without ever really touching the roof.

The pillow pit catches him and molds to his frame like clouds. Soft and inviting and he almost doesn't want to move. He lounges there for longer than he probably should, all things considered, and doesn't move until a very irritated voice fills the air.

"So how long have you been sneaking into the other worlds?"

When he peeks out of the nest of pillows, there's no ignoring the dread that pulls in his stomach. Especially since his darling sweet wife stands before him, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. But there is nothing sweet in that smile. All there is is the promise of cold nights spent on the couch if he so much as thinks of trying to lie his way out of this one.

Uh-oh.

~oOo~

Jennifer Hernandez:

"Ezio!"

The call is excited and yet smug, dangerous, and definitely all female. If I hadn't been watching Ezio, I would have missed the way he tenses for a second, body locking up as the voice reaches his ears. Next to him, Leonardo turns slowly towards him, a tight smile on his lips.

"Please tell me you did not," he starts but stops as the owner of the voice draws closer. Ezio un-tenses just as quickly, muscles loosening as he turns towards the voice, lopsided smile on his lips. Rather than continue what he was saying, Leonardo simply whispers, "You idiot."

"Caterina, my dear," Ezio greets the woman as she draws near, a seductive swing to her hips that is less intentional and instead all-natural as she saunters up to us. He bows at the sight of her, a hand fisted over his heart as he does. "What brings you so far out this way?"

"I heard you were in town, Ezio," she says as she holds her hand out for him to take. He does, placing a kiss to the knuckles as he stands. Ever the perfect gentlemen, he doesn't drop her hand until she gently slips it from his grasp. "Yesterday, that is, and I was just coming by to see why you did not pay me a visit even if you were just passing through."

"Please excuse my rudeness. I had some urgent matters to attend to," he says that easygoing smile still on his face. He stands straight under her watchful gaze as she slides it over him. There's something hungry in it, thirsty as she drinks him in with a smile that is both smug and pleased. "I did not have time to enjoy your company."

"Does that mean you do now?" She asks, excitement leaking back into her words even as she throws her gaze our way. Her eyes narrow in on me instantly, sharp and calculating and I would have flinched from it if Leonardo hadn't stepped in front of her gaze with a muffled curse. "Sir Leonardo, I did not see you there."

"Lady Caterina," he greets, moving forward to greet her in the same way Ezio had. With her attention turned away, I chance a quick look Ken's way. There's no question in his gaze, he knows who this is. Caterina Sforza. The Duchess of Forlì and one of Ezio's 'conquests'. So, the only thing I find on his face is reluctant acceptance. "It is always a pleasure to be in your company."

Oh god, all of Ezio's dirty secrets are flying out of the closet, one after the other.

"I must agree," she tells him, a soft smile on her face as she turns back to Ezio. Dismissing us, she takes him in with that hungry gaze again, unashamed of who might see it. This far out, on the outskirts of Forlì, there is no one to see it, though. "Will you join me for tea, then?"

"Actually, Caterina, we are in a bit of hurry," Ezio says, regret in his tone as he turns her down. There's no way to miss the way Ken flinches at the tone. Yet no one is looking our way, so it goes unnoticed by everyone but me. "The only reason we are still here is that we are a horse short to start our trip back."

"That is quite the dilemma," she says, a teasing tone in her voice. "I could lend you one if you like? Though it will cost you."

"That would be wonderful, Lady Caterina," Leonardo says, cutting into their conversation. He sounds eager and delighted, in his typical, cute Leonardo way. It's almost soothing to see it. "Just tell us how much and we will be more than willing to pay."

"Money is quite a boring form of payment," Caterina says, a smug smile sliding back onto her lips. "I was thinking of something much more…pleasurable for my payment. Come, in exchange for one of my horses, I ask that you both join me for tea."

Tea it is, then.

Not that we get much choice in the matter. As soon as Caterina makes up her mind, she turns away. Leading the way to where her horse stands—a black one with no markings and equally black mane—she stops in front of it and offers Ezio her hand again.

He doesn't even have to ask what she wants. He helps her up on her horse instantly, helping her settle before turning back to us. We're still a horse short after all. With the way things are going, I'm surprised he doesn't climb up after her, but he really can't unless he wants to start a true scandal.

She's still married, after all.

"Here," I tell Leonardo as I hand him the reins to my horse. Taking his pack and box of supplies, I quickly tie them to Ezio's horse, before leading it towards Ezio. "Ken and I will double up."

"Very well."

I let Ken sit in the front. With more riding experience under my belt then him, I figure I'll fare better on the back than him. Once we're both settled on Baldo, we head off towards the Forlì Fortress. Though, there is no question that most of us are dreading it.

Our dread turns out to be well-founded, though, when we enter the walls of Caterina's home to find that tea is only being served for three. There are only three places set up on the table, one is obviously for Caterina herself, the other for Ezio, and the last one for Leonardo.

So what about Ken and me?

"Your servants can wait in the kitchen, if they would like," Caterina says, no malice or arrogance in her words as she takes her seat. "I can see to it that they get something to eat as well."

"Actually, Caterina—"

"That would be perfect, Lady Caterina," Leonardo cuts her off, ignoring the look Ezio gives him as he takes his own seat. I take his dismissal as the blessing it is. I so do not want to spend the next hour watching Caterina make eyes at Ezio and I know Ken sure as hell doesn't want to either. "Thank you so much for your hospitality."

With a wave of her hand, Caterina dismisses us. Following behind an elderly maid, we all but flee from the room. Eager to get as far away as we possibly can from the room, we say nothing as the maid leads us to a wide kitchen. One with stone countertops, stoves, and even walls.

"Please, sit," the maid says as she ushers to a wooden, rickety table in the far corner of the room. No sooner have we taken a seat than she brings us a tray of bread and cheese and a pitcher of wine with it's accompanying cups. "Someone will come to get you if your masters have need for you."

"Not exactly how I imagined we'd spend the day," I tell Ken, eyeing the plate. I don't reach for the food though. Stomach too twisted and uneasy to even think about eating, I dismiss the food in favor of the wine. It's bitter on my tongue, lacking any sweetness, but I'm thirsty enough to keep drinking. "God, that's gross."

"Don't drink it then," Ken says, gaze locked on his own cup. He spins it in his hands, taking in the cup even though it's just a plain, clay cup. His voice is as emotionless as the look on his face, blank save for the small twinkle of resignation in his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asks gaze finally lifting from his cup to look at me. The resignation is gone, replaced by confusion as he pours himself some wine and tips the cup back as soon as he's done. He empties the cup in one long, steady pull. Though he downs the cup like a champ, there's no keeping the grimace off his face once he finally does taste it. "That is gross."

"I forgot about Caterina," I whisper, passing him my cup when he begins to reach for the pitcher again. I don't know if a refill is a good idea, but Ken takes the cup anyway, downing it just as quickly as the first. "You should probably take it slow if you don't want to get drunk."

His stomach is empty, after all. He's upchucked everything in his stomach on the way here. Empty stomachs and booze don't mix. Especially if you want to stay sober. Pushing the plate of food towards him, I hope he'll start eating before the alcohol can have any real effect.

"So did I," he admits, staring at a slice of bread he grabs form the plate. It's small, stale, and probably only a few hours from molding.

Servant's food.

I don't have to look far to wonder where Caterina had gotten that impression. My clothes are the main culprit. Plain and thin and nowhere near ordinate enough to be the clothing of anything but a peasant. Add in that both Ken and I were holding the horses, tending to them, while Caterina had said her hellos and it's no wonder she hadn't bothered to introduce herself to us.

You don't introduce The Help.

Though I'm grateful Leonardo had jumped at the chance not to introduce us, even if it meant labeling us as servants. For all that she is an Assassin ally, Caterina really is a dangerous woman. Beautiful and powerful enough that Leonardo had tried his best to ward Ezio away the first time Ezio had met Caterina. Leonardo is nothing if not a smart man, if he says we should stay away, then I'm going to damn well stay as far from her as I can.

"We'll be home soon, Ken," I tell him, trying my best to soothe whatever is bothering him. Not that I don't know what it is. Caterina's relationship with Ezio is probably as disheartening as Altaïr's and Maria's but at least Ezio won't marry her.

No, his fated lover is none other than Sofia. And he won't meet her until he's well into his fifties, I think. Definitely, past forty. So there's still time, and lots of it before Ken has to come to start thinking about Ezio's future wife and children. He's got years left before he has to decide whether to step back and let Ezio fall as deeply for Sofia as he would have if he hadn't met us.

Still, years or not, the gears are spinning in his head, calculating. He's turning something over in his mind, contemplating possibilities. I want to ask about it but don't. Not because I don't care, but because it's up to Ken if he wants to share. If he wants to air out personal business about them. So rather than ask, I take a stale piece of bread and turn it over in my hands.

"He still needs her," he whispers at last, tossing the bread back onto the plate. It bounces off the plate, sliding across the table to stop by our empty cups. "For the apple and the Borgia and all that's going to happen in Rome, so I can't…"

So, he can't tell Ezio not to see her.

Can't even hint at it or show any kind of displeasure about it. Not if he wants Ezio to have her help when he has to hide the apple in Forlì. So he has to bear it, has to say nothing when Caterina makes her passes at Ezio. Has to be strong enough to endure it with a smile ready and waiting when Ezio looks his way.

…As long as you come home at night.

A weaker person would have told her to kick rocks. I would have told her to get lost. I probably will tell Maria to take a hike, if she decides Altaïr is hers for the taking. Sure, Altaïr probably needs Maria just as much as Ezio needs Caterina but…I am not a strong person.

I'm not selfless and noble and good, like Ken. Everything I've done has already proven that. By giving Altaïr the codex pages, I've given myself just as much of a fighting chance as Maria, if not more so. Because, allowing Altaïr to see what he will feel for Maria can only gain me points. Can only win me favor in his eyes.

Of course, there had been no ulterior motives in that moment. There had only been the desperate need for someone else to make the call. For someone else to choose whatever course we should take next considering how marvelous all my ideas had turned out so far.

Me realizing I have gained myself some favorable points, in the long run, is only just happening now. When I finally get to see my situation reflected back at me through someone so much stronger than I can ever be. Rather than fighting back and demanding a choice be made like I had, Ken is ready and willing and strong enough to look the other ways so long as Ezio comes home at night.

"Damn it all."

My curse draws the attention of the kitchen staff. Not that there's many of them, only three, but they all turn to me, startled and confused.

Just when things were beginning to go so well between them, it all suddenly goes wrong. It always has, time after time everything gets turned on its head. If it wasn't because I know Minerva wants us here, in their world, I would think someone was trying to stop us. Like there's an invisible force desperately trying to keep everything going the way it should.

"Is everything alright?" A maid asks from the other side of the kitchen, just as confused as the rest of them even as she makes her way towards us. "Is the food not to your liking."

"Yes, sorry, we're fine," I apologize, quickly nabbing the tossed aside piece of bread from the table. "Just dropped my bread, is all. But I got it, so we're good. All good. The food is great by the way. Delicious! So yeah, perfectly fine."

"I don't think I've seen you nervously babble since high school," Ken says, amused as he yanks the bread from my hands and tosses it back on the plate. This time it doesn't bounce off. The sight of the small smile on his face eases some of my worry for him.

"This is Catrina's house," I whisper, forced smile on my face as I grab the pitcher of wine and refill our cups. I pass him his cup then, pressing it into his hand. "We can't offend her in her own home."

"Then eat the bread, Jen," Ken says, smile turning into a smirk as he presses a slice into my hand before I can protest. "It'd be rude not to eat the food oh so graciously provide for us by Caterina."

"Petty is not a good color on you," I tell him even as I choke the bread down with the help of the wine. It's still stale going down but the bitter wine helps with chewing and swallowing enough that it doesn't really matter. Still pretty gross, though.

"Petty isn't a color to begin with, Jen," he says, smirk turning soft as he grabs his own piece of bread and chokes it down. It takes him a few sips of wine to get it all down, but once he does, he looks warily at the rest of the food. "Are we really going to eat all this?"

"It'd be rude not to, Ken."

He glares at the teasing lit in my voice. There's no real heat behind it though so I laugh as I grab another piece of bread. We eat at the same time, laughing as he chokes on the bread enough to gag. Of course, that just makes me choke as well and we both end up spitting up the bread in a fit of laughter.

That it comes back up like something closer resembling dust than actual bread only makes us laugh hard.

"Man, that's gross."

"Shut up or they'll hear you," I tell him around my laughter and the bread that has managed to stay in my mouth. Chewing thickly, I take a few more gulps of wine to help ease the bread down. That there is now a foggy haze slowly creeping over my mind is easily ignore. "You wouldn't want to offend Cate, Cateri—"

I get cut off by my own giggles as Ken has to spit up his bread completely or risk choking. Rather than attempt to eat the bread again, Ken swipes it away in disgust. As he goes for the cheese instead, I take that moment to refill our cups.

"Oh, let me know if it's good."

"I think it's a little green," he says eyeing it distrustfully as he reaches for his cup again and takes a long pull. He licks away the wine that clings to his lip even as he cringes at the taste. "When was Bleu Cheese invented?"

"Who knows?" I tell him, watching as he brings the cheese to his mouth. My cup is empty before Ken takes his first bite of the cheese, which is probably the only thing that saves me from spitting up the wine when he pulls a face. "That bad, huh?"

He downs the rest of his cup before he can answer. Though, once he does, I refill both our cups with the last of the wine. It's gone far too soon if you ask me, bitter or not, the taste has grown on me enough to consider asking for a second pitcher.

"I'll just stick to the wine."

"But it's all gone," I tell, tipping the pitcher over his cup as evidence. Only one last drop falls, splashing nosily into his cup. We watch the wine ripple for a bit, frown on both our faces. "Oh well, we probably really, honestly, shouldn't get drunk."

"Yeah."

Even though Ken agrees, he searches around the kitchen, no doubt looking for anything that could be holding more wine. I ignore his searching and investigate the moldy cheese. It doesn't smell particularly foul. I'd seen stinky-er cheese in Mexico and it had all honestly been delicious.

"Jen," Ken calls, words just a whisper and look up in time to watch him tip his cup back one last time. "What are the chances of us dying on this trip?"

"From someone attacking us?" I ask, confused about his question in general. The haze in my mind grows the longer I speak, blurring my vision even though a warmth spreads from my stomach. Almost as if fueled by the wine now resting heavily in it. "Probably not that high."

"And from doing something stupid?"

"About ninety-five percent, if we really put our backs into it," I tell him, thinking seriously about it. He's looking across the room as I talk, gaze locked on something I can't make out, so I can only guess at. But I can see the twinkle in his eyes. "Wait, why are you even asking that?"

The spark of something that looks a lot like recklessness.

One I know all too well. Ken's only human, after all, and a young, twenty-five-year-old one at that. Calmness and rational nature apart, even he's as prone to rashness and stupidity as anyone our age. Add in the current emotional mess he's found himself in plus the booze we've just guzzled down and it would have been a complete miracle if he hadn't thought of something stupid to do. We are young, after all.

Young and dumb.

"No reason," he says, pushing away from the table before I can reply. I don't believe a word of it so, downing the last of my wine, I stand after him. Curious about what he's planning, I follow after him. We're out the kitchen door before he speaks again. "Where's the entrance again?"

"That way."

He goes without another question, eager and fast on his feet, we passed by confused maids and servants without so much as looking at them. We pick up speed as we go, slowly getting faster until we're outright running.

I don't know who starts laughing first but by the time we burst through the front door, laughter is falling from our lips as the fog of alcohol fully sets in. Even then, we race out into the square. At some point during our running, Ken's hand has found mine and he tugs me through the gates of Caterina's house and out into the city, eagerly.

As if he can't get out fast enough.

"It's about time for an adventure, don't-cha think so, Jen?" Ken says around his laughter as we race down the cobblestone streets. I can't answer him, too busy trying to keep my feet straight under me I just laugh and pull ahead at him.

Let the fun begin.