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[He's spent his free nights in the house of Freya this past month, slept in an empty bed, kept watch for a possible familiar face or dress among the grey crowds. Caterina has been missing for a few weeks now, and Ezio knows this happens often. There is only so much he can do, besides looking and worrying about her.

This morning, however, he wakes with a jolt, as if something has been torn from his insides and yanked out. He doesn't know what it is, but he knows something is wrong, and immediately his eyes wander across the room, heart sinking. It is empty, save for his belongings, and Caterina's bracelet no longer sits on the bedside table. No clothes in the closet, no papers on her desk, and no search he does turn up anything of hers. A flick of his own bracelet, and he checks the last sliver of hope he has, praying to see her name among the list still here. When he cannot find it, Ezio knows there is nothing he can do but mourn.

She is gone.

It is a long time before he says anything, can find the words to say anything, to the network. And even when he does, it is detached, removed, avoids emotion where possible.]

For those who knew her, Caterina Sforza has returned home.

[To a home that was still not hers. To her children who were taken from her. To her grave. Again, he's lost the one he loves. He buries his face in his hands, rubs his eyes in his palms and steadies himself, gathers his things, and leaves.

He will not return to this room again.

Ezio will only speak through text here, but can be found on the rooftops in Odin, not too far from the shop. Some may say being alone is better to grieve, but in this case he wouldn't mind company, or someone to talk to.]

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Was... this Miss Sforza a friend of yours, Mr. Ezio?

[Oh, Alice. The times you've talked with him and met him have all been pretty awful for him.]

Sì, Alice. I knew her back home.

I'm sorry your friend left. It would seem a lot of people are leaving. But if you know her back home, when you get to go back home, you'll get to see her again, won't you?

Yes. And if we cannot see each other, we can always write.

[A lie, but better to give it to her than to tell the truth of Caterina's death, and how little they saw or heard from each other after her rescue.]

I'm sure you write lovely letters, Mr. Ezio! And getting a letter is always nice, I think.

It is, considering my time is not as advanced as it is here in Asgard. I have been told I should write more often by many.

Alice, do you think now would be a good time to start?

Well then, that decides it. If many have told you it, it's with good reason. And I do. Why not write a letter to Ms. Sforza, in fact?

[It's been strange, going into the shop day after day and not seeing Caterina behind the counter or terrorising novices into carrying out their tasks. Since returning from Alfheim, Maria has been spending more time there, keeping tabs and studying the accounts, knowing her friend would appreciate retuning to a business running smoothly and efficiently. In a way it reminds her of being back in Masyaf and terrorising the novices, though this time it comes with rosters and figures rather than practice swords and bucklers.

And then she reads Ezio's message.

For a moment, she just stares at it in disbelief, sure she's reading it wrong, and then when a few moments go by and she realises that the message remains the same and its meaning has not changed, she quietly tells the novices in the shop to carry on with their tasks. There is somewhere else she suspects she can do more good right now.]

Do you need anything? Where are you?

[He doesn't answer for the first part. In truth, he doesn't really know what he needs at a time like this. He's not even sure how he feels. Numb, perhaps? In disbelief? They sound correct, but he's such a jumble he can't pick out anything in particular.

He does answer for the second question, but it's probably just as useless.]

Away, mostly.

[Away from the Bureau, and away from himself.]

Of course. I understand.

[She does not mean to leave it at that, but for the moment she doesn't know what to add. The thought of what he must surely be feeling right now is awful, the loss is hard enough for them but sure to be unbearable for him.

A minute more passes before she adds:]

You are not alone, please remember that. This is not a burden you need to shoulder on your own, allow us to share some of its weight if we can.

I know. Thank you, Maria.

[It still does not make it easier for him, but he supposes it will lessen with time. And that hurts perhaps more than the fact that she is gone. That he will eventually move on from her, and back out to try and find someone to be with. He knows it will happen, because Desmond is here. But he's not completely sure he can just move on when he's lost two women now who he's opened himself up to, and still lost everything.]

We are family, there is no need to thank me.

[She wants to add something about how Caterina would surely never let her hear the end of it if she were to allow Ezio to mourn her alone, that she would want her to keep an eye on him, but she fears putting voice to such a thing would pour salt on wounds that are still too fresh.]

Do not catch cold. You are no use to anyone if you catch a chill

Sì, we are.

[It would, and more often than not, it would only cause for him to pull away, rather than remain where he is. Still, she has a point, and she always has. Though his first and usual habit is to pull away, to pass the time and bury the memories so far that they become repressed.

Somehow, he doesn't think this will be approved of, nor does a part of him want to go down that path.]

If I do not return within a few hours, come find me.

[Because he fears if he does not go to someone, does not try to move forward and allow family to help him with this burden and help him grieve, then he will not move at all, only stay in place and in misery for days.]

Of that you can be sure. And I expect for you to make an appearance to sup with us this evening, Desmond has taught me to cook an Italian dish, I would be offended if you did not come to sample it.

[Read: she will make sure you look after yourself even if she has to spoon feed instant macaroni and cheese down your throat herself, Ezio.]

If it is not my place to say this then I apologise, but Ezio, you must know that regardless of what happens in our own time and place, you know that she loved you deeply and knew that she was loved. Sometimes it seems an easy thing to overlook but it does not depreciate the value. And knowing that you are loved... it means a great deal.

I'm so sorry, Ezio.

Grazie, Alastair.

If there's anything I can do, please let me know.

If there is anything I can think of, I will.

[He struggles to think of something else to say, but what is there to be said? Nothing, really. Alastair can't help here.

He only hopes someone else can.]

Don't hesitate to ask.

Be well, Ezio.

I will, in time.

Safety and peace.

You too. Safety and peace.

This place likes sending people home as much as it likes bringing them here.

[ Anne doesn't know Ezio, Anne didn't know Caterina, not even a little bit, but she understands how it is to lose someone close to you. So she responds with something that may not be comforting, but it feels like an appropriate enough thing to say. Mary is gone. She wasn't here long, but she was here long enough for Anne to get used to having her around again. Knowing she's gone back just to die again hurts more than anything in the world. So she knows the feeling of losing someone to the grave, too, but even if she knew that about Caterina she wouldn't mention anything about that. Anne has a little more tact than that. ]

Sì, it is either in good nature or a poor one. Even now, after being here for so long, I still cannot tell.

[She doesn't need to know how close they were, or about them at all, really. Not many people do. But it isn't hard to tell that she meant something to him, even just a small bit. And the last thing he needs is being told condolences. For a brief moment, he is not forty-six, but seventeen, angry and upset and broken all over again, hating being told "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for your loss." Sorry doesn't bring back the dead, sorry does nothing but remind him of what he's lost. And he knows that. But he also knows better now.

And so he regards it with more casualness than before, a patience and understanding that time will lessen it as he keeps going forward. It isn't much, but it is still something he can stand on, compared to the nothing he had when he was younger.]

[After reading Ezio's words on his bracelet, Altaïr goes to his friend's quarters. Some things should only be said face to face. But once there, it doesn't take long to see that Ezio has gone, and is not likely to return.

Altaït understands.

It's a little while later that he spies Ezio sitting on the edge of a roof. He goes to sit beside him, letting his feet hang off the side as well, and says nothing.]

[The fact that Altaïr comes to find him without saying a word is touching, in a sense, as he realizes that what the Italian needs is not words, but company. Not one who will badger him or question him, but one that simply is there. A presence, a reminder.

And that is exactly what Altaïr is at this moment.

Ezio shifts a little upon the other's arrival, but does not speak. He has no desire to. The air is cold and has no intention of being welcoming in its grace, but it fits well enough for what has happened recently. The arguments, the anger, the hurt, and now this. It would have been more difficult back home, perhaps, but here...

Here he may just have the chance to heal properly.]

[They've all faced trials in recent times, but none more than Ezio, or at least it seems so now from Altaïr's perspective. He will not speak until his friend wishes it; he does not want to push him, and moreover, what can he say?

It isn't that Altaïr doesn't understand what it is to lose the woman one loves. He does. It's that he also understand there is nothing he can say to make it better, especially not so soon. Only time can heal such wounds.

So they'll sit in silence until Ezio is ready.]

[And sadly enough, time is something that he worries about, for fear of forgetting Caterina and everything she meant to him. They had never planned for this to happen, had never imagined they would come close, truly feel for each other as they had. But love had other plans, and they could only play their parts as it saw fit.

Now, that was gone. She wouldn't remember Asgard, or what they had here, and she would die never knowing how he felt about her. His heart aches at that thought, memories flooding his mind and he pushes them away, drowns in his own melancholy behind bright eyes and a quiet smile.

After a long bout of silence, he exhales, a cloud of steam rising from his breath, and he finally, finally speaks.]

I had hoped, perhaps, that by being in the city still, there was a chance for her to return.

[A chance that now was gone, and he was left behind to suffer the loss.]

[He has some idea of what Ezio might be thinking about now. Feeling, as well, though he will never know that for sure.

And there is his own loss. Caterina had been a true friend to him—one of the first, here. Altaïr will miss her.]

I as well. It is easy to assume the routines we fall into here are the way things should be—and the way they will return eventually.

[But that's never guaranteed. Not even if the gods saw fit to summon Caterina back.]

[For once, Connor missed seeing the network post, so he's surprised when he finds Ezio on the rooftops near the shop. He hops from one landing to another, not even attempting to make a secret of his approach and sits nearby.

Quiet.

Something is wrong with Ezio.]

[The silence and the cold of the day are something that keep his mind sharp and alert, even if his heart is fumbling over itself and unable to do much other than sit where it is, lost in everything around him. So he hears Connor before he sees him, and is quietly grateful that nothing is said when the other sits nearby.

He doesn't turn his head, but it's easy enough to see his eyes move to see the other, acknowledge him, and then look back to the horizon. He has no intention of verbally greeting him.]

[He settles in quietly and after half an hour or so, gets up and moves closer to Ezio's side. He did this for Desmond, too, not long ago, sitting vigil nearby while another person collected their thoughts.

Connor stays where he is for a long while, mostly unmoving, save for occasionally fidgeting with the bracelet Dr. Sung gave him, a little flash of bright thread on his currently otherwise bare wrist.]

[For a long while, he says nothing, barely moving himself, but as time passes, he breathes out easier. And that, perhaps, is a sign to show that he is grieving quietly. That he is letting go, slowly, of the pain that he feels, that he is trying to move forward and not simply stay where he is, for fear of never leaving the state he is in.

There is more to this pain and sorrow in having loved, but he cannot find it. Not now, at least. One day, perhaps, he will.]

[ tact, Hastings, tact. try to have some. a little part of him wants to claim yes, good, well, everything is as it should be, but even he's not so callous. and he's been... unfair. misquoted. bitter where he could have been sweet. hard where he should have been soft. it's nothing new with him, he's never been one to appreciate social niceties when work needed to be done.

but here, now, with this, after all that's happened... and all that he's heard, and all that he knows, what with Caterina being dead and, well, this confirming it, it's not the time for gloating. it's not even the time for being stubborn. he doesn't owe this man anything, or at least that's what he wants to tell himself. but this is Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Master Assassin, and prophet, a man who dedicated his life to helping others. and Shaun might not like the idea of muddling with the facts, revisionism, or loose ends, but he can conclude this: that glorified footnote he shouted at has a pulse. he lives, he breathes, and most of all, he feels.

and right now, he hurts.

contrary to popular belief, Shaun does care about other people. he just... sucks at showing it. and that's the funny thing about living your life on the internet; maybe you don't get social cues when you're face-to-face with someone, but a simple line of text can say everything and more.

so. it's not easy to type this, and Hastings could certainly just claim ignorance of Ezio's message. a year ago, he might have done. but he's not the same person he was in September of '12. ]

She was a brave woman, who led a difficult life. I think having you in it might have made some of those difficulties a bit easier, you know?

I'm sorry for your loss. And for hers. [ there's a long delay, perhaps thirty minutes to an hour, before Shaun responds again with: ] And for what I said when you were in hospital. [ because history's one thing, and keeping your facts straight, very important indeed, but love? to a secret optimist and a romantic? love's got the trump card on all that nonsense. ]

Edited 2014-01-27 05:03 (UTC)

[When he receives the notification that it's a message from one Shaun Hastings, an overwhelming sense of dread and hesitation fills him. The last few times he had spoken with him, it has ended poorly, with either the British man to rant at him or drive words into him that dig and cause wounds over time. How does he know this won't be the same? One would hope that that would be the case, but with Shaun, Ezio cannot say he knows for certain.

It takes a good hour for him to even dare to look at the sender, and perhaps another twenty minutes before he opens it. Reads it. Has to set his bracelet back down and run his hands down his face, settling on covering his mouth as he breathes out through his nose in the silence.

He is moved beyond words at this point. Completely and utterly. What he had thought would be ridicule, a "well things are back to normal now, you can go on with your life like you're supposed to," instead he finds condolences and an apology for previous actions. Ezio doesn't completely understand what caused him to give these words, but he does not take them for granted.]

Sì, she was, and her life was hard, but she took away the difficulties in mine when I was with her. I would hope that I had repaid her somehow for all her kindness that she gave to me when she was here.

[I'm sorry for your loss. And for hers.

It was a loss. Not only for him, but for her, as well. For the life that she could never take back, for the home she lost to the Borgia first, then to her own people, for finishing her last years and days without Ezio. And that, perhaps, hurts the most, knowing that no matter what they had felt here, it would have never happened back home. They both knew better, and never pursued it. For her safety. For her children's. For his. Caterina was a brave, beautiful, witty and dangerous woman, and she was everything that Ezio had wanted, but knew he could not have.

He does not know what is worse- to have loved and to have lost, or to have never loved at all. In either case, the pain is still there.]

It is a loss for everyone, but she is at peace now. I cannot ask for more for her.

[The apology is not what he is expecting, and the long pause after the last sent message shows it. The Italian's first thought is blank, uncertain of what to say. Really, how can he even express the surprise he has for the unexpected kindness given to him?

Eventually, he finds the words, and he hopes they are enough.]

We may not always agree with each other or see eye to eye on certain subjects, but thank you, Shaun. Grazie mille.

[A million thanks.]

Edited 2014-02-02 05:48 (UTC)

[ There's no quip he offers as an opening salvo, no jokes this time when Desmond finds Ezio on the roof. This, then, is another heartache that must be weathered, but Ezio will not have to weather this alone. ]

Nonno.

[ Acknowledgement, and then Desmond sits down beside Ezio and pulls him into a wordless hug, son to father. ]

[Desmond's arrival is quiet, but there is no response at first when he speaks. Ezio isn't surprised he's there, he hoped he would come, and he is silent with no regard to anything around him. Caterina is gone, and he is left here with the hard facts that she and he will never have what they once did here. Home prevents that, as does time. It sits in his heart and wrenches at his gut, tears him apart slowly and all at once, and there is nothing he can do to ease the pain.

He expects the other to sit with him, and stay, and he doesn't mind- but it's the embrace that his grandson gives him, the touch of family to remind him that he is not suffering alone, nor is he allowed to, that causes him to blink and react to Desmond. His own returned embrace is tight, hands that perhaps dig a little like a child's into Desmond's back, because he has no idea how to handle this pain yet again, breathes through his nose quietly and simply closes his eyes for the longest time, hoping this is a bad dream, that he will wake again and be in Caterina's arms, her fast asleep and peaceful and as beautiful as she has ever been.

But he knows better.

There is silence for some time, Ezio not saying a word, until he finally pulls away, offering a small, saddened smile for what he's feeling. Looking out to the horizon, he watches the steam rise from his breath, unsure of what exactly to do now. He has not cried in years, never plans to, only buries things as they come and pushed forward- but eventually he does speak, and while his tone is not weak, it is quiet, pained, and easy to hear.]

Mi manca.

[I miss her.]

[ She's never met Caterina Sforza.

The contact line is plainly visible, however, and it's a name that's become synonymous with fledgling hope for the Assassins. Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Desmond and Clay's predecessor, a man she's only ever seen through the veneer of holograms and splintered recollections pinned beneath glass. In another time and place, Lucy woud've wholeheartedly dismissed the message as some delusional attempt at faux pas gallows humor, but dying once has consolidated some belief in the supernatural. At any rate, he had the same likelihood of resurrection in a world governed by Norse gods and an hypothetically end-all apocalypse at their heels.

And whether or not it's her place to respond as a traitor to a cause she once pledged her life to die for, she finds herself compelled to at least express her sympathies on his loss. ]

I'm so sorry for what happened. I never knew her, but I genuinely wish I did.

[ Five, ten minutes go by without a single interruption, and then, haltingly: ]

It's hard to lose someone you love.

[The message he receives is one that is of kindness, from a name of a woman he does not know. Ezio is not opposed to those with no connection sending their condolences, but this one seems to know, in a sense, who Caterina was. And it leaves a pang in his heart to see that other people understand him just as well as he does.]

Thank you.

[The Italian isn't sure, really, of what other to say than that, but Lucy's last words seem to strike him far more than he realizes.]

...It is. But she is safe now, and away from this war. That is more than enough for me.

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text. late late late late laaaaate /weeps