Hellooooooo everyone! I literally haven't thought of touching this story for the good portion of the 4 years I haven't updated, but seeing as I'm at a dead stop in Gringo and Look At Me- why not pick up a little side project to get going?

I'll be revising and rewriting chapters and changing A LOT, so bear with me after all this time! ?

Disclaimer: I don't own Ezio or any characters mentioned from Assassins Creed. Clara is mine however; I created her.

She never thought it would come to this. It wasn't hard to run from her hometown- to leave ghosts and skeletons of a life ripped from her hands, or the people who turned their backs on her. But to be chased by authorities and corporations? It was almost unfathomable. But she still did it. It was her fault it all happened, after all. She owed it to this man. A man she had accidentally brought into a world he didn't know; an assassin who knew how to run. As she had taught him of his new surroundings, he was teaching her how to be a ghost among people.

Now, his blood coated her steady hands, and stained her peach shirt. He lied on the ground, both of them hiding from authorities who had lost them in the crumbling tourist attraction of a town. They had nearly made it to their destination, but one false step had made them take so many steps backwards, and now he was wounded. They both held their breath as another officer ran by the abandoned building they hid in. The breath he let out was strained. She looked down at him and went back to hastily trying to clean the bullet wound that thankfully was a through and through.

He winced when she leaned the wound and dressed it, but stayed quiet. He knew how to handle himself, but she could see it in his eyes that he was hurting. When he could catch her gaze, he'd give her his crooked smile, the light scar on his lips curling. She let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head, but couldn't stop a grin from pulling up on the corners of her lips.

"You're an idiot for doing that, Ezio," she mumbled, helping him roll onto his stomach so she could clean the exit wound. "Mi Dispiace. I did it for you, mia bella," he groaned lowly. "I wouldn't want such a scar to taint that soft skin." He teased. She shook her head; she knew that he was trying to distract her for her own good, but this wasn't the time to play.

"Zitto. You could've been killed, stronzo." She said grimly, being sure to press a little harder into his wound. He moved beneath her. "Hey, be nice. Your words are getting better, you know." He said, but she ignored him.

His smile softened some as he looked back at her worried face. How her eyebrows would arch down and gave her the look of a woman who had seen the worst of everything life could throw at her. That's one of the things he loved about her; the ability to take anything someone threw at her and throw it back with wraithlike power.

"It would've killed me to see you in my spot," he said kindly, and she felt her heart lessen with irritation.

She smoothly rolled him onto his back and closed his thin shirt, then leaned down so their noses were almost touching. Her long, caramel curls fell around her neck and he tugged on one of the ends as her thumb wiped away some of the sweat on his forehead. She could always find herself lost in his light brown eyes, relishing in the calming lull of them. But tension still lingered in her bones. "I just want this to be over." she whispered, and he nodded. "We're almost there, Clara." He sighed, and pulled her down to plant a firm kiss on her lips.

And so it begins... again. n_n