"Make the Memories"

The stars shone like brilliant diamonds in the Tuscan night far above the Villa Auditore nestled snuggly in the arms of Monteriggioni. The cobbled streets rested quietly between packs of buildings, their windows dark with slumber. Only the occasional glow of a candle could be seen in the peaceful dark. The villa's glass openings glowed softly in the late hour as a lone figure traversed the hallways, candle in hand to guide his way. He was a husky and rather tall Italian who carried his shoulders with a humble pride of who he was and what he represented. In his younger days, he would have been surely gallivanting about just as his mercenaries were that night, but age had wizened him and he knew in his heart that he was needed elsewhere that late evening. The candle flickered as he descended the marble staircase and made his way through the alabaster foyer and into the office connected to his personal study. Mario Auditore paused in the doorway as his old eyes settled on the desk in the room's center.

"Nipote?" he whispered, raising his candle to get a better look at the young assassin wedged into the desk's chair, "Ezio?"

No response came and Mario paced over to the desk and gave his nephew a soft push on the shoulder. The unexpected movement startled Ezio from his light sleep and he clasped the papers in front of him tightly before regarding his uncle tiredly. A quaint chuckle reached his ears as Mario placed the candle on his desk and sat on the edge. Ezio blinked somewhat to clear the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled the papers in front of him and settled them down within reach. Struggling to hold a yawn, the assassin ducked his head and elicited a harsh groan as he settled his head into his hands. He had no idea how late it was and he wasn't keen on finding out. Mario, curious of his nephew's late night excursions, began to rifle through the stack of papers only to discover they were translated Codex pages. Each page was similar in script, but none of them made much sense in the order they were in. Placing the pages down, Mario observed his nephew quietly and noticed the slump of Ezio's shoulders as he drifted back into sleep. What was his nephew doing up so late studying? He should have been in bed resting for the training he was scheduled for in the morning.

"What are you doing, nipote? You should be in bed," Mario chided gently, prodding Ezio in the arm.

"Just reading," was the response followed by a yawn.

"Reading, huh? I never pegged you for the studying type…"

"Uncle…" Ezio groaned, mind too bogged down to form a proper rebuttal.

"Are you sure you're only reading?" Mario inquired, eyeing Ezio sharply, "Nothing else bothering you?"

"Of course not, zio, I'm only reading," Ezio piped up; awake enough to go on the defensive, "What would make you ask something like that?

"Mi preoccupo per te, nipote."

"Everything's fine," Ezio answered, "Te lo prometto."

"Molto bene," Mario nodded, unconvinced that there wasn't an underlying reason.

"Now that I'm awake, I've been meaning to tell you of my plans," Ezio stated, sitting up with a long stretch.

"Do tell."

"I'm returning to Florence in a few days. I won't be long because I only have a few Codex pages for Leonardo to translate and then I might return here to discuss further steps against the Templars."

"Might?" Mario interupted, "What do you mean?"

"Most of the information I've gathered, as you and Lorenzo speculated, has pointed me towards Venezia. I may very well travel to there right after Firenze."

Mario nodded in silent agreement and patted his nephew on the shoulder before rising off the desk. He yawned lightly as he began to feel the weary cloak of the late hour and decided it was best to return to bed for the night before the sun chose to warm the lands in its touch. Ezio was slow to follow, but the quiet padding of his feet soon echoed amongst the carpeted hallways as he ascended to his personal chambers. The morning came slow and fast as the blazing sun crept up along the hilltops until its gleaming rays reflected across Monteriggioni and enveloped the villa in an immaculate Italian sunrise. The beams of light filtered in through the wooden slats of Ezio's room, filling the large room with a dusty glow. The apex of the morning passed as Ezio finally came to, the noonlight piercing his eyes. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes slowly and swung his legs out from underneath the satin sheets. Getting up almost seemed like an effort as exhaustion clawed at his limbs to return to the soft haven. With a sigh, Ezio dressed and decided a brisk walk would finish waking him up. He had many things to do that day and he was already behind thanks to sleeping in.

Quickening his pace, the assassin made his way through the villa and out into the open courtyard. He greedily filled his lungs with the fresh air and he felt his mind abuzz with fresh vigor. The day seemed inviting as a warm southern wind blew in, but the assassin had little time to enjoy it as he set off at once into town. His first stop was the blacksmith, then the doctor to refresh his medical kit, and finally on to the stables to ensure he would have a fresh horse for the journey to Florence and possibly Venice afterwards. With the shopping done, Ezio set back towards the villa to prepare the saddlebags and his own personal satchel for the journey. As Ezio moved about his room, he threw open the windows to at last breathe in and cherish the warms winds that buffeted his cheeks with soft hands. The warm afternoon began to set his mind at ease for once until his quick eyes caught sight of a lone parcel propped up on his bed. Trodding over to it, his hand at once felt how incredibly light it was and there was only his name printed in a fancy, but messy script across the wrapping.

Hesitant at first, Ezio prodded a finger into the parcel and began to tear away until he got to a folded piece of velvet and upon unfolding the fabric, the assassin recognized at once the plumes of several brown and white feathers; feathers eeriely similar to the ones he had once given his brother Petruccio. He felt a cold emotion curl inside him suddenly at the memory of his innocent baby brother and Ezio turned his attention away from the feathers immediately as his hand found a folded piece of parchment amongst the feathers. It was crumpled in many places and there seemed to be some sort of sketching scribbled onto the back, but then erased frantically and as he unfolded the paper to read, Ezio knew who it was from immediately:

"Bonjourno amico mio!

I'm writing to you because I came across these feathers quite some time ago and I had meant to give them to you on your last visit. Mi dispiace, but we both know how forgetful I can be sometimes. So much to do! Anyways, if I recall correctly, you mentioned something to me regarding your brother's fascination with feathers and so they made me think of you, amico mio. I understand the tragedy of the Auditores is still fresh and you do not like to discuss it, but please view this as a gift of my sentiments. I'd hate for this gesture to leave us on a sour note, but I feel as if it wouldn't, so here you are! Please enjoy the feathers and remember to visit when you have the time.

-Leonardo"

By the time Ezio finished reading the letter, the already crinkled parchment had become nearly torn as the assassin held it in a trembling, white-knuckled grip. It took him a long while to finally release the paper and when he did, it fluttered to the floor as he collasped onto the foot of his bed. He felt numb to the world as his head swirled in memories. Afternoon faded into evening and once warm winds now chilled him to the touch. It wasn't until the moon was fully risen amongst its sister stars that Ezio moved from his frozen stupor. As he moved, he winced at the tension rising in his stiff limbs. The assassin stretched and breathed easier when the tension faded, but his neck felt sore and his skin was ice as he moved about closing the windows to shut out the unpleasant night. With a groan, Ezio returned to his bed and didn't even bother to undress. He just fell back and let his eyes bore holes into the ceiling. He could tell how late it was just by the feeling alone, but hismind did not want him to rest. It had other plans as it forced unwanted thoughts forward. Ezio buried his face into the pillow and started to count backwards from one hundred with the hope it would drive him into sleep. He had just made it past forty-seven when at last his eyes grew heavy and upon twenty-two, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

The morning came too swift for the young Italian as the sun breached the semi-tilted slats of his bedroom windows and cast the dusty dwelling into a glowing atmosphere. Ezio groaned as he pulled his cowl down over his eyes to block the sun, but it did no justice as time whisked by and the heat beneath the shroud became stifling. Opening his eyes, Ezio blinked away the sleep as he rose from the covers a frumpled mess. Ezio spent the next hour making final preparations for his journey to Florence and, decidedly, Venice. He chose that he would depart that afternoon and, if he made good time, would be in his hometown by nightfall. Finally satisfied with his work, Ezio made sure his armor was in check and weapons tightly secured as he fixed the cowl over his brow once more and ventured out into the villa courtyard. The cobbled yard smelled of sun burnt stone and drying dirt as well as the fresh breezes of the surrounding countryside. With a nod to himself, the assassin headed down the steps leading to the fenced-off sparring area where Mario currently resided, heading over a match between two condotitteri.

"Zio!" Ezio called, trodding alongside the older assassin, "I'm setting off for Florence."

"Already? I haven't seen you for two days, nipote," Mario chided out of concern.

"Mi dispiace, but I had to prepare for the trip and it took longer than expected..." Ezio uttered hesitantly, mind recalling the parcel.

"Very well, Ezio. Be safe and don't linger in Florence longer than you have to; even with Lorenzo as an ally, you're still a wanted man," Mario sighed, patting his nephew on the shoulder.

"Te lo prometto."

Ezio offered his uncle a reassuring smile before departing from the company of mercenaries and into the town below. It wasn't a particularly busy afternoon as citizens milled about and the only real noise being the yelling of stall vendors encouraging people to browse and buy. Ezio quickened his pace, the idea of travel enticing him to move. He had spent too long sitting in the comfy confines of the Villa Auditore. It was time to get down to Earth and dig into the roots he'd spread as an assassin. He breathed a little easier once he was saddled up and on the road, his horse's hooves kicking up dust along the earthy road. The lone ride was exactly what he needed to set his mind at ease and indulge himself in just being Ezio rather than the assassin on a road of revenge. The wind fluttered the cloth of his shirt collar and his shoulder cape billowed out behind slightly. The air hummed with the song of afternoon insects and the road shimmered where the sun's warmth touched it. Everything seemed at peace and Ezio rode on in silence.

The sun was well past its peak and meandering closer to the horizon when Ezio finally spotted the high walls of Florence, reflected a dull orange in the fading light. Ezio tightened his control on the reigns of his horse and slowed the steed to a steady walk. His peaceful mood was forgotten as the wide arched entrance to the city emerged and he tarried near the stables as the stable hand took his horse. Over the years, he had grown to dislike returning to Florence and he hated the dead feeling it left in him. This place was where his family had been murdered; where his once carefree life had been hanged. The pain in his eyes was still fresh in the fours years he had not been home and if it weren't for Leonardo, Ezio would not be there at all. Steeling his demeanor, Ezio submerged himself into the crowds, mind focused and sharp to every little occurrence he came acros. As long as he kept walking, no one paid heed to the white phantom that slipped through the streets with little fault. He knew he was close to Leonardo's workshop as he ventured down an alley and he quickened his pace when a fluttering breeze made him freeze on the spot. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Auditore flag flowing against its mounted pole.

Against his better judgement, Ezio inched towards the empty palazzo with heavy footsteps and he was just past the gilded entrance of the courtyard when he released the breath he'd been holding. Lorenzo had kept his promise after all. The archers had been removed and now the home stood empty, under protection of Medici sanction. The flowers were in bloom upon the trellis, but lacked vibrancy without Maria's love and care. The young Italian ventured slowly into the courtyard and past the door into his father's office. Everything was still in shambles as it had been when he fled Florence. Despite the memories, Ezio felt himself growing angry at the mess and the reasons why it was like that. In a heated rush, the young assassin tried to put things back together as best he could, but he only felt bitter when the crude cleaning was done. Deciding to move on Ezio journeyed through the rest of the palazzo and he paused the longest in the family room. The curtains were drawn aside so sunlight streamed in dazzling mosaics across the room. The light touched everything it could and allowed Ezio to drink in every detail.

Maria's sewing layed on table and near it, one of Claudia's boxes of trinkets. Pausing, Ezio debated taking the items and finally thought they might do better back in the hands of the people who loved them. Gathering the items, he bundled them together and tucked them into a traveling bag he'd been carrying. He lingered a few more minutes and his eyes fell on a chessboard in between two chairs that rested near the windows. He stepped over towards it and held one of the pieces aloft in his palm. The chess pieces were set up as he had left them. Ezio had been in the middle of a game with Federico when his temper got the better of him and the second oldest Auditore had stormed off mid-game. He had never been able to best Federico at chess, but looking at it now, the assassin's eyes quickly plotted out a winning strategy and Ezio moved the piece in his hand accordingly until he got to his goal.

"Checkmate," he whispered, lightly tapping the opposite side's king over.

Frowning, Ezio stepped away from the board when an image of a bewildered Federico crossed his mind. With a heavy sigh, the assassin picked his way out of the palazzo in a flurry of steps. He knew he shouldn't have come to the palazzo. He should have taken the long way around to avoid it. In his heart, though, he knew he could not stay away and that is what made it the most painful. Fleeing from the scene, Ezio tried his best to blend with the crowds, but his distracted mind made him clumsy and already he had to deal with angry bystanders who shoved him aside as they hurried on their way. He didn't care though as he at last made it to Leonardo's workshop. With a rough knock, the assassin announced his presence only to find the doorknob locked. Confused, Ezio knocked harder and called Leonardo's name. When no response came, he knocked a little harder than he should have as his impatience flared and he recoiled in pain as his knuckles scraped harshly against the wood. Growling in agitation, his mind was nearly made up to pick the lock when a concerned voice reached his ears.

"Mi scusi! Is that you Ser Ezio?" one of Leonardo's assistants asked as he appeared from the crowds.

"Uh, yes, yes! It is..." Ezio huffed, slightly embarrassed at having been caught in the attempt to force the door open.

"Are you here to see Messere Leonardo? If you are, I'm afraid he's not here."

"Then where is he?"

Running errands in the market, I believe. He is preparing for a trip and is set to leave tonight."

"A trip, you say?"

"Si, to Venice, Ser Ezio. He has been recruited by an official there. Leonardo even received a complete shop for him to work from."

"Very well. I'm afraid I have to be leaving myself, so please tell Leonardo I stopped by, will you?" Ezio answered, intrigued by the idea of his friend's venture.

"Of course," the assistant quipped.

"Bene e grazie."

With business done, a slightly annoyed and disappointed Ezio departed from the inventor's doorstep and disappeared down the streets. Using his head, the assassin picked his way along the cajoining alleyways as he weaved a long route around his palazzo and back to the stables where a fresh horse awaited his arrival. Apparently he had lingered in his former home longer than he'd expected as the cool night air buffeted his face and even the stars were beginning to show in the darkening sky. Ezio breathed in the crisp air and relished it as his senses came alive as they always did at night. He decided to take his time and saddled the horse himself and propped his traveling bag in the saddlebags he's thought to travel with from the villa. Satisfied at last, Ezio mounted his horse and left the stables at a slow trot. The cool air felt pleasing to the skin and Ezio breathed it in more as he sat back in the saddle, reigns loose in his grip. His mind finally focused on his task at hand and he loosely began to wonder what would be in store when he reached Venice.

Ezio pondered on the voyage for several minutes when he finally reached a fork in the road. The signs read Monteriggioni and mountains. Deciding on his direction, Ezio guided his horse towards the Apennines Pass between Florence and Forli when his mind forced his eyes to stare back at the darkened city of his home and in the beginning moonlight, he spotted something he would have preferred to pass completely. Close to the main road, but in a somewhat secluded spot, Ezio had erected three grave markers in honor of his family. Even if he had sent them off on a burning gondola down the river, he didn't feel like it was right to not do something. So when he found the time, Ezio came back and put up three wooden cross tied together with red ribbons. Pulling on the reigns, Ezio led his horse towards the spot at a slow pace and he dismounted to the ground with a light thud. He locked onto the markers, but his legs would not move. The assassin remained tethered to the spot when he felt something bubbling inside him; some feelings he had suppressed for a very long time. It felt like grief, hatred, anger, betrayal, and so many more rolled into one as he finally felt his cage for the raw and untouched emotions break open. The surge was overwhelming as Ezio collapsed to his knees before his father's marker. The assassin tried to stifle himself, but there was no controlling the flood of words.

"Why? Why did this have to happen?" he breathed sharply as he dug his hands into the soft earth, "Why did you have to die? Non capisco! Why was it us? Father, Federico, Petruccio...I just...it's not fair...you never had a chance and I feel so lost...what am I supposed to do? What do you expect me to do? Do I stay and be the man of what's left of our family? Or do I hunt down the men who did this to us? I wish I knew...I didn't ask for this! I never wanted to be the one who had to dirty his hands with the blood of others who dirtied their hands with yours!"

Ezio sat back on the cool ground and breathed heavily as he gazed at the crosses with puffy eyes and fresh tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as he tried to stifle the flow of hyperventilated gasps. The moon rose far above him, still hidden behind the treeline and rolling landscape, its eerie light bathing the world in pale colors as late evening travelers made their last rounds on the road to Florence. Ezio knew he should leave, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go. He felt so tired just then; a million years old and a million miles away from everything. His shoulders sagged heavily as he tried to move, but new emotions of guilt and anger began to churn inside his heart. Hot tears rolled down the Italian's face as he pressed his forehead against Giovanni's marker and he shuddered out a low sob escaping his deflated spirits.

"Mi dispiace," he whispered, voice thick, "Mi dispiace tanto...Father, per favore, forgive me...I let you all die. It's my fault Mother and Claudia will never see you again. Io non riuscivo a smettere di Uberto, quel porco... Dannazione! Why did you have to go and get involved in this, Father? Why didn't you take us and run? Was it something that stopped you? Pride, fear, ignorance? What made you choose to keep up this life? Everyone would still be here if you had just called it quits. I'm so tired...I can't sleep at night. All I ever see are your faces as I watched you hang; all I ever see are the faces of those bastardi I've killed. What difference has it made? You, Federico, and Petruccio are still dead...Mother, Claudia, and I remain a broken family...and I'm no closer to understanding why I'm doing this! Is it for revenge? Or something bigger? I need answers...I want to understand, but you're not here to guide me..."

Ezio's voice died away as he shuddered out a shaky breath, eyes blurry and bloodshot. The assassin rubbed furiously at them, angered at his moment of despair, but the lingering emotions remained and new thoughts kept forming like a tidal wave. This time he forced himself to stay silent as he wiped away the tracks of tears. He found himself glowering at the cross before him, the irony of it like a stinging slap to the face. With a growl, Ezio pummeled the ground below, the urge to hit something boiling inside him. He felt almost blinded as a seething rage worked itself up inside him and with a bitter yell, he flung the nearest item he could find at his father's grave marker. The gleaming knife embedded itself dead center in the marker, slicing into the ribbon holding the cross together. With short, heated breaths, the assassin glared deeply at the knife until he heard the sound of voices and hoof beats. Whirling around as he seized the knife from the cross, his keen eyes fell upon a pair of travelers on horseback, staring at him in confusion and uneasiness.

"Che cazzo hai da guardare?" Ezio yelled as he flung the knife at them, "Get the fuck out of here you brown-nosing pezzi di merda!"

The throwing knife missed the couple on horseback by a wide margin as it sliced into a sack of grain saddled onto one of the horses. With cries of fear, the pair bolted away down the road, leaving a seething Ezio to watch after them. With a snort, Ezio turned away, not caring at all that he had frightened them until he regarded the pile of wood that had been his father's grave marker. A growing sense of guilt and sadness quenched the fire inside him as the assassin bent down and reset the cross, tying it with a new ribbon about the center. Ezio rose and backed away from the trio of crosses and he leaned against the horse that had patiently stood by during his entire episode. He suddenly felt exhausted as he rubbed his irritated eyes. They were still moist, but he was sure he was done shedding anymore tears. A heaviness settled in his heart as he continued to stare at the crosses when he caught the sound of horse hooves once more. Ezio sighed when he sensed the intruder stop precariously in front of his secluded domain.

"Mi scusi, you there!" a voice called and there was a light thud as the driver descended from his carriage seat, "Are you in need of assistance?"

"No, I just want my space," Ezio responded harshly, not turning around, "So if you don't mind..."

"My apologies if I intruded on what ever it is..." the man behind Ezio muttered, eyes falling on the crosses, "...you're doing."

The silence stretched between them and Ezio felt the lingering gaze of the man on his back and the patience of the assassin began to wear thin with the unwelcome intruder. After a few seconds, Ezio turned on the man with a harsh voice only to let the venomous words die away as he saw who it was. He felt his face flush red with deep embarrassment as he stared point blank into the face of his older friend, Leonardo da Vinci. Ezio tried to play off his anger with a nervous hello, but the faulty show didn't go unnoticed by his companion. Leonardo fidgeted slightly as he tried to decide what to do. He was overjoyed to see his friend once more, but something was obviously amiss with the assassin and he had a sneaking suspicion of the reason why. The awkwardness between the two was thick as Ezio tugged his peaked hood over his face to keep Leonardo from seeing the puffy reds of his eyes.

"Buona sera, amico mio. I hadn't expected to see you," Leonardo said with a slight smile, "My assistant said you came by the workshop. Sorry I was not there to greet you myself."

"It's alright, I was only passing through," Ezio answered, voice controlled as he let his hand fall back to his side.

"Um, Ezio, if I may...what are you doing out here?"

"I uh...was paying my...respects; yes, um, to my family..."

"From those screaming travelers, I can guess more than respect for the dead took place here," Leonardo remarked with a chuckle, but his eyes gleamed concern.

"I can explain-"

"No need, my friend, all I want to know is how are you?"

"Leonardo, I-"

"Ezio, wait, have you been...have you been crying?" Leonardo inquired and in a bold move, pulled Ezio's hood back to reveal the Italian's reddened pallor.

"Maybe, but I'm fine, really!" Ezio breathed hastily as he pulled away from the artist, his attempt to bolster his lie failing as he recognized the hurt in Leonardo's gaze.

"Who are you trying to convince, Ezio? Me or yourself?"

Ezio felt his mouth open to respond, but he had no words to answer his companion's question. Nothing came but a welling silence that choked the assassin. He suddenly felt just how vulnerable he had made himself and every fiber in him willed for Leonardo to disappear, but Ezio knew better. Once Leonardo set his interest in something, the artist became obsessive to see something done with it as he did with every other half-crazy whim. Ezio rubbed his forehead as his jumbled thoughts collided with each other to formulate an answer until at last he couldn't hide it anymore. With a heavy sigh, Ezio locked eyes with Leonardo and admitted he wasn't alright. Leonardo nodded and inquired if he wanted to talk and for once, the assassin gave no protest to the idea of voicing his thoughts. The pair sat beneath a nearby tree and Ezio settled back against the gnarled skin of the tall plant as Leonardo sat beside him. The artist understood that it was going to be a while before his younger companion would answer and he was content to sit and sketch in the dirt until Ezio did.

"I don't even know where to start," Ezio finally said, brow furrowed, "I just feel so...so..."

"Angry? Hurt? Sad?" Leonardo finished, not even looking up.

"Si...how did you know that?"

"You're in grieving, Ezio," Leonardo stated simply before regarding his friend, "Haven't you given yourself the time to mourn?"

"Of course I have...I mean I think so," Ezio replied with a doubtful tone, "Actually, I'm not completely sure..."

"Well, there's your problem exactly! Ezio, a person who loses someone close goes through a period of grief. It can be short for some or long for others, but mourning is the natural way to come to terms with the fact you're still here and they aren't."

"I haven't had time to grieve!" Ezio snarled, frustration building, "I've been all over Italia nonstop, just hunting and killing!"

"And?"

"And? And? And I still don't understand what it's all for! Why did I have to be the one to live and get dragged into this? Federico was older, it should be him...not me..."

"So you feel guilty?"

"Of course I feel guilty! I spent three months just thinking about what I could have done to avoid their deaths, but all I actually did was flee like some coward."

"Or someone with others to think about, such as your mother and sister," Leonardo reminded.

"Well yes...I suppose you're right, but where am I now, huh? Can you tell me that?" Ezio barked, snapping a stick in his hands.

"I cannot, amico, this is your problem to solve."

"Exactly! It's my probelm, not anyone's else and that's what's not fair!"

"And thus this anger..."

"Anger? Angry doesn't even begin to describe how I feel right now!"

"Then tell me how you actually feel, Ezio. That's what needs to be said," Leonardo demanded quietly as he braced for the response.

"I'm just sick of it! I want to call it quits! I want it all to make sense! I want...I-I want..."

"What? What do you want?"

"I want my family back!" Ezio screamed, rage fading as he finally gave into the reality of it, "...but I'm never going to get them back...nothing will ever be the same, will it?"

"No, it's won't I'm afraid, but sometimes it has to be that way," Leonardo whispered, voice gentle as he placed a comforting hand on Ezio's shoulder, "You must remember, though, that things will get better. You're young, Ezio; you have a full life ahead of you and to brighten it is your mother and sister. Never forget that even if you didn't save your father or brothers, you saved them. In the end, that is what's really worth it. You have a new chance to make the memories from now on and remember the better ones you had."

The silence sat heavily between them as the blurry-eyed assassin contemplated his friend's words. They cut into him deeply and at last he forced himself to really accept the truth. His family was gone and they weren't coming back. The idea was painful, but not impossible to come to terms with. Ezio nodded to himself and focused on the dear things he still had left in his life: Maria, Claudia, Uncle Mario, Leonardo, and all the allies he had made since he began his life as an assassin. He still had all of them and for once he tasted a small portion of peaceful bliss. The quaint revelation moved deeply inside him and he felt a large weight lift off his shoulders. He gained the notion that the sadness would remain, but now it would be an easier burden to bear. Ezio leaned back against the tree in silence and let his eyes trail across the evening sky now twinkling with stars and he felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Leonardo..."

"Do you feel better now?" the inventor asked, crooking his head at his companion.

"Yes, I do, actually," Ezio whispered, "Grazie...for everything, my friend."

"Di niente," Leonardo smiled before rising to his feet, "So where are you headed to?"

"Same place you are," Ezio responded, "I'll drive."

"But I haven't even told you where I'm going!"

"Leonardo...come on," Ezio smirked.