December 18, 1477
Monteriggioni, Italy
One wouldn't think it was hard to just go up and ask someone to talk to them in private, but it was already ten in the morning, and Catherine hadn't been able to say more than a hello and the usual pleasantries to Ezio. Any attempts to ask to speak with him somewhere to tell him everything he deserved to know left her with her tongue tied and her gut clenching with anxious fear. She ended up just saying something different or so stupid that he looked at her weirdly before he laughed it off and then that was it. It happened every single time, and Catherine couldn't believe how ridiculous she was being or how it could be this hard. It shouldn't have been! It should have just been so easy to go over to get the talk going and just say everything.
Yet here she was, slapping a hand to her face once Ezio was beyond the door, out of sight, and unable to hear her make a loud sound of frustration. If she were near the wall she would have hit her head against it. She felt so stupid being like this. She just needed to say it. Just tell Ezio they needed to talk and take him out to the gardens away from everyone else and tell him the truth. It was simple! Wasn't it?
'Uuuuuuugh, this is getting ridiculous. I just... I need to calm down. I need to relax and then ask him. I'm too worked up... just need to get the nerves out. Just go out and help Claudia with the town. There needs to be some more repairs to things, so go out and do that and then ask him after or something,' she sighed mentally, rubbing at her brow. That would have to be the ticket, because she didn't really have any better ideas besides the original, which wasn't working.
So, with a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair and headed out of the Villa. It was a Rest Day, today, since it was snowing a bit too much and the air was colder than usual. Mario had deemed it not a good time to train—they could resist a lot, but he knew when to not push his soldiers and when not to have them fight. If it were a battle, it might be different, but this was training, and the city could use their help in repairs. The city-folk helped keep them warm with that, providing hot soup and breads, and blankets and cloaks to wrap around themselves. They also left their doors open for the men to come inside if they needed to sit by the fire for a while.
She was no different, and she kept her black cloak close as she stepped out into the light snow fall. It had been worse a few hours ago, but now it was tolerable. She puffed out a thing of steam from her hot breath and looked out on the city. It was covered in plenty of white, so most repairs would probably be on the ground or indoors.
"Catherine, come on—Claudia told me where we're needed today," Ezio shouted from the stairs, waving at her. She paused to sigh again, but nodded, and hurried after him. She might not have been able to ask him to talk, but she could still work with him. Oh, sometimes it got a little awkward, and he gave her an odd look, or he noticed when she wasn't talking as much as usual, but it wasn't like she couldn't be around him.
"What place is it today? Are we doing more to the artist spot?" she inquired as she walked by him, going around the ring.
"No, not today... speaking of, though, you should have them sell your works there," he grinned, but she just scoffed.
"Heeeelll noooo. No way. I could never do that. Now hush and tell me where we're going," she huffed, smacking his arm lightly. He laughed in return, and told her it was a house in the corners of the city, which hadn't got much work yet. He told her of the repairs to the windows and walls that were needed, and she listened closely, watching him. In part because she was hoping to find a moment to ask him, although it wouldn't come, but also because she was looking for the cracks in his happy façade. The work in the city had given him a wall to hide behind, and he kept up a strong face around her and the others, but she knew how he was. She'd seen him alone sometimes, staring at her drawings he'd asked to keep, and saw how forlorn he was.
She hated it, and that was why she needed to talk to him, and maybe if she just saw it again she could have the strength—but, no. He had too much to focus on, and soon they were joined by more men who kept their attention off the dour woes of their hearts. It worked well enough, and a part of her hated herself for being able to be distracted. She should have been pushing the issue, but instead she let herself be swept away in the jokes and laughter and the hard work. She let her muscles ache and her body chill as she placed her nails and swung her hammer. She would keep an eye on Ezio, though, and while her plans were waylaid she would do what she could to keep him happy—really happy. Or at least try to.
"Alright you two—come on in! Your soup is ready!" a voice called from below, and Catherine looked over the edge of the scaffold set up to work on the windows outside. It was Ottavio who summoned them, and he would most likely be taking over their shift later on.
"Coming!" she called, putting the tools into the crate they had up there, and then motioned for Ezio to follow in suit. He nodded, and they hopped down and relished in the warmth of the indoors. Ottavio joined them, and the woman inside—Cecilia she recalled—served them hot bread and soup. There were essentially no vegetables, and not much meat, but it was warm and that was what mattered.
"You're doing good work out there. With any luck we'll be done by the evening," the Captain mused as he drank some of his soup down.
"We should have most of the buildings fixed up then, right?" Ezio inquired, gnawing on his bread.
Ottavio hummed thoughtfully, "Well, at least on the outside. Work is still needed in the interiors, and there's plenty of additions that would be good to get done. New tables, shelves, and the like. But your sister is doing well to bring money in. The tailor and artist shop is helping immensely, and once we get more materials we can finish up the brothel and that will really help."
"Will there even be women for you guys, or will it be the first brothel for women?" Catherine snickered, wiggling her brow some.
Ezio laughed loudly, "Perhaps that is not such a bad idea! I'm sure the lovely ladies would gladly spend their coin, no?"
"Most of us are married, Sir Auditore," Cecilia huffed, giving the young man a dirty look. Ezio just grinned innocently while Ottavio chuckled.
"We can potentially coax women from the outside towns to come here—they would get more customers. What we really need, though, is a Madame; someone to run the brothel."
"There's bound to be someone, right?" Catherine shrugged, and got shrugs in return. She downed a bit more of her soup and bread before she waved at the Captain. "So, do we have replacements, or do we head out again?"
"It's all you guys today—the others are spread out doing other work. Some of the wall needs patching, too, and other parts of the city need work. That alright?"
"Sure. We've got a good thing going on the windows here," the young Auditore nodded and downed the rest of his. "I'm fairly warm again, and we're almost done—shall we finish up? We might be able to relax some then."
"Sounds good Go on out, and I'll finish up eating soon," she smiled back. He returned it, thanked Cecilia, and headed out. Catherine watched him go, her expression falling once he was out the door. She sighed a little and dunked the rest of the bread into her soup so it became soaked and then finished it off. The soup would have been next, but she paused as she saw Ottavio watching. There was an odd look to his face, causing her to shift a little sheepishly. "Um... what?"
He gestured to the door, "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That," he urged, raising a brow at her. "That sad face. What was with that? Ezio's been weird lately, too. You both are. You're both just so uneasy around each other."
"It's... it's just... stupid. I'm just trying to talk to him, but I keep chickening out on asking," she grumbled, hiding herself in her cloak's front some. Ottavio's eyes sparkled mischievously as he grinned even more so.
"You are going to confess your love and I can win my bet?!"
She almost threw the bowl at him as she flushed, "No! I told you I don't have any for him like that! It's not that! It's... it's something else."
"Well, if not that, then what? Because it tends to be only romance that women have trouble speaking about to men. Right, Cecilia?"
The woman raised her brow, "Do not presume to know women, Captain. You haven't managed a wife since you got here."
"You will have to forgive me if I have specific tastes then," he smirked right back, and she just rolled her eyes as she made her way into the kitchen. He chuckled before looking back to the redhead. "What's so difficult to speak about that you can barely even talk normally to him?"
She sighed, deflating some, "It's... something... well... personal. I just... I just need the right moment to ask."
"So never then?""
"No—I'll ask him to talk!" she insisted, but Ottavio only raised his brow and folded his arms, seeing right through it. She groaned and downed her soup to set the bowl down and run a hand through her hair. "I will... I just... I'm too scared to."
"Good grief... you are willing to have your ass beat every day but you can't bring yourself to ask him to talk? Mario would die from shame after throttling," he rumbled, shaking his head. Catherine scowled as her cheeks went scarlet, but he held up his hand for peace. "Easy. You know what I meant, and I know what you meant. You need to just say something now, or you never will, and it will eat at you and ruin what you have. I've seen it happen enough to know. Stop dancing around it, and just go outside right now and ask him to talk after work or dinner or whenever is good."
"It's not that easy," she grumbled back, although she knew it was. It honestly was that easy. All she had to do was ask. She just had to open her mouth, make her tongue move, and there it was. Just say "Can we talk?" and that was all she needed to do.
"Only because you're making it hard. Just go out there, do your work, and just say it while out there. Doesn't matter when, just do it today, or I'm going to make you fight me in the ring, and I know you hate that."
"Ottavio—."
"Ask, or fight me. Those are your choices. Captain's orders."
He used the tone—the one Mario did; the one you didn't disobey. Catherine sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. She was either going to push through her reluctance, or she was going to receive one of the worst beating of her life. Ottavio was honestly the worst—both in the ring, and outside it. He was right, though, and they both knew it. Still, she groaned, dragging her hands down along her face before she slumped and let her head hit the table. Thankfully, the Captain did not go on with his tone, but he did laugh and clap her shoulders.
"Just know you're lucky you're both young—if you fuck up, you have a lot longer to get over it."
"That doesn't help!" she grunted, smacking his arm away, and he kept on laughing.
"Well, get on then. The windows won't fix themselves."
Catherine gave Ottavio a dirty look before sighing yet again and standing up. She pulled her cloak close and brushed by him, heading back out into the cold. Ezio was already hard at work, nailing wood or setting stone into place. She paused below the scaffold, repeating Ottavio's warning and words. It was easy. Just tell him, or she'd have to fight the Captain. Frankly, either option was terrible, but really there was only one.
'Well, here goes nothing,' she grumbled silently, making her way up.
Nothing was exactly what happened.
Even with the threat, she stumbled over asking him, and again he chuckled, wondering what was wrong with her. She just sighed and told him was noting and got back to work. This time he regarded her for a more before he, too, returned to work. Most of it was in silence this time around, and she felt awful for it. She didn't know what he was thinking, although he was all smiles and jokes and what not, and she was left feeling all the worse. Still, he acted as well as he could except for the small pauses in which he looked so far away, and she knew what he was thinking then. He was looking back at the memory of his family, no doubt recalling those wonderful days back at the Palazzo.
It both hardened her resolve, and made her all the more a coward.
So things went on like that, and even after they were done. The work didn't honestly take long; a few more hours in the cold—and about thirty minutes inside—and they had what work they'd been given done. Cecilia was incredibly grateful and offered yet another bowl of soup, but both of them preferred the sanctity and warmth of the Villa at the moment. It was especially desired with the snow picking up some, thickening the blanket on the ground. The streets ultimately cleared out, and many of the men had returned to the Barracks for the time being; the rest either went somewhere else or held themselves up in the homes they were repairing. None in the city were against it, so it was a welcoming comfort.
Catherine was just happy to be indoors again, and this year the cold did not permeate into the building. With all the walls and windows fixed—although always in need of sprucing up—the house was warm and allowed her to give their robes to one of the male servants. From there, they ventured into the study where Claudia was hard at work, discussing reconstruction plans with Mario and their head architect; all standing around the diorama of the city. Ezio would talk with them, too—especially when he had taken a role of helping to bring money in by finding people to come. That, and Claudia made sure he helped her with handling the money and more. Personally, Catherine just saw it as the two siblings spending any time they could together when they most needed it, but it was helping a great deal.
They stayed a little to discuss what they'd done and more work on the brothel, but it probably wouldn't be until the spring that the building would be done. Despite its potential profit, the people came first, and the city needed to be fixed, so that was still to be the focus. That was for tomorrow, though, and Catherine and Ezio were done for the day. She tried to ask him then. She caught him on the stair case, and even grabbed his shirt, and he looked at her expectantly. She almost did it. She almost asked him to talk to her, but then she shrank back and told him never mind. He opened his mouth as if to speak to her, but the closed it, chuckled, ruffled her hair, and told her to go rest—she was obviously exhausted from work. So she went back to her room, shoved her face into her pillow, and let out a loud, loud groan of frustration.
Of course, the frustration didn't stop there. Oh, no. Catherine tried again, and again, but either ended up not finding the right moment, or would divert on to a tangent or make some joke or anything to just not ask. Ezio was none the wiser, and would leave calling her silly and noting she was acting so strange lately, and that was it. Every attempt failed, and she felt more and more stupid with each one. She still had to try, though, if only to avoid fighting Ottavio—at least, she told herself that, and so she resolved to try one more time. For it, though, she had to head up into his room. She'd seen him stalk off there, and although she got into the hallway and to the stairs, she paused there. She grasped the rungs, took in a deep breath, and told herself everything she had before. She had to do this, and she told herself he deserved it. She reminded herself of all the times she'd seen him look so sad and how he was just torn over what had happened; how he blamed himself.
It was enough—just barely.
Catherine forced her legs to move, pushing up off the ground and then off each rung until she was to the next floor. She breathed in deep and kept herself moving. If she stopped now she knew she would never do it. The worst part was to come, though, and it was knocking at his door. Indeed, she paused there; lifted her hand to knock, and waited as she chewed her lip. She pulled her hand back to smack her face, quietly saying to just do it, and so lifted her hand to knock again.
The door opened then, and she ended up wide-eyed as she looked into the raised-brow expression of Ezio Auditore. He didn't look nearly as surprised as she was. In fact, it seemed as though he'd expected her, and even leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. She coughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck, and shuffling her feet some. Ezio let out a deep breath of air.
"Catherine, what's going on?" he asked and she flinched slightly.
"Um... it's... ah..."
"Catherine," he began again, unfurling his arms so he could grasp her shoulders. "What is it? You've been like this all day. You keep acting like you want something, but then you end up flustered. You can talk to me, you know. I don't see why you think you can't."
"It's not that—or well, uh, actually... I, uh... I guess it is," she groaned, head falling back. She looked at Ezio again, whom looked right back; fully expecting her to answer. She sighed this time, waited a few moments, and turned her eyes on the ground. Somehow, that made it a little easier. "I... Ezio... I... I need... I need to talk to you."
"Okay," he replied instantly, and held his arms out to give her the okay.
She rubbed the back of her neck, "Um... I thought... maybe... more... alone?"
"You mean away from everyone elsewhere no one will hear?" he asked, and she nodded after a moment. He made a thoughtful sound before nodded, too. "We can meet in the garden after supper—if it is not snowing. Otherwise, we can wait until a day it isn't, and I will make sure you do not flee this time."
She flushed, "I didn't mean to the other times I just—I was... it's..."
He chuckled, cupping her chin, "Catherine, you need to calm down. You won't be saying much if you keep like this... so take this time to gather your thoughts and we will talk later... although, if it's to confess your undying love, then I'm already quite aware and am only glad you have finally given in."
"I—wait—what!? No I am not confessing to you, you dork!" she shouted back, smacking his arm, and he laughed.
"That's better. Now hold on to that, and we will talk later," he grinned, and Catherine flushed again.
"Yeah, okay."
He chuckled, ruffling her hair some, "You don't need to worry. Nothing you have to say will change things."
"Right," she managed to smile, but even as he reassured her again and she turned away to calm herself down and gather her thoughts the doubt lingered.
After all, what she had to say would change everything—wouldn't it?
-O-
The snow had stopped falling some time before supper, but the thick blanket remained with the sun blocked by the gray clouds. It wasn't much warmer, and as night came by it was colder still, and so Catherine kept her cloak close around her as she stood in the gardens. She was closer to the back, standing on the upper ramp at the wall, and pacing some. How could she not, though? She was nervous. She was finally going to have her talk with Ezio, and he was going to learn the truth about her. Mario had told her no every time she'd consulted him, but that had been months ago, and now she couldn't bear it any longer. She couldn't bear seeing Ezio in pain, so she would endure the cold and this wait.
It didn't make it any less agonizing, though, and thus she paced and blew warm air onto her hands as seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. She would keep looking back at the Villa, hoping to see him in the darkening light. She had her own lamp out so she could see, and she assumed he would, too, but for now the garden was still dark. Catherine sighed as she finally turned towards the wall and leaned on the stone face. She kept her lantern close to keep her warm as she stared out at the dark landscape, noting the various tiny dots—fires and lamps lit in their homes or men on their watch. She wondered if any of them ever had these moments, but then laughed. There was no way in hell anyone else had ever been in her situation. She decided to just pretend, though, if only to feel a little better about herself.
"Enjoying the view?" a voice called, and she jumped. Spinning around, she found Ezio holding his own lantern up, in his cloak and Assassin gear to keep warm.
She managed a slight smile, "Sort of. Little too dark to see."
He chuckled, coming up beside her. He set his lantern down next to hers and looked out at the landscape as well. He hummed as he folded his arms on the stone, leaning forward on it.
"Unfortunately no stars tonight—too cloudy."
"Unfortunately. Hopefully it won't snow again soon... I think this talk might go a while," she laughed a bit pitifully.
He gave her a smile, too, "Well, it's not so late, and we have the lanterns to keep warm. Of course, we can always share body heat, too."
"Jesus, Ezio, come on!" she laughed, shaking her head at him. She settled into a short silence then, again gazing out at the land. She sighed softly, and he waited just as quietly. She leaned up after a minute, bracing herself, and then turned towards him. Briefly, she looked at him, and then back down as she rubbed the back of her neck. She sighed once more before she finally spoke. "I... Ezio... I've uh... I brought you out here to talk because, um... I... I've been... lying to you... for a long time."
"...Lying?" he asked, and she sighed again.
"About... about everything—where I'm from, how I got here, why I'm here. I'm... Ezio, I'm not from England."
"...Where are you from then?"
She paused to look at him, and even in the dim light she saw his confusion, and was it concern or something else there beside it? She wasn't sure, but it was too late to go back now.
"I'm... I'm from... a place called America—the Unites States of America. It's made out of fifty states, and I come from one of them... and it hasn't been discovered and won't even be a country until the seventeen hundreds. I come from almost three hundreds year after that—the year two-thousand and ten."
Ezio was quiet for a long while, his face contorting as his brows scrunched and his lips creased together. He sat up straight, arms folded over his chest. Catherine braced for the worst. It was out there now, so there was nowhere else to go, and if it made him hate her, then so be it.
"You say you are from this... 'America'—from the year two-thousand? From the future?"
She hesitated, "Y-yes... I'm from the future."
"That..." he began, and she flinched again, looking down and grasping at her cloak as she waited for him to on. Instead he hummed, tilting his head slightly. "...I suppose that... explains a lot."
"...Huh?"
"Well, you were always rather odd and unlike most women in this day and age... and you did appear out of nowhere. Your story was reasonable enough, but it always did seem a little... off... and, well, I admit, I ah... I overheard you and Mario talk once—of something you couldn't tell me. I can only assume it was this, so it just all... makes sense, I guess? I mean, I do have countless questions, but it just... I don't know—it fits you. But why did you hide it all this time? Mario made it seem like it was so urgent."
"I, ah... that is... wow, I just... you are not freaking out and that's weird. Okay, uh," Catherine tried to reply, but found it hard to form the words suddenly. She had expected so much more from Ezio—so much more craziness or something, but here he was completely calm. It just didn't make sense. Somehow, she managed to keep going. "It's... uh, because, well, uh... how I, uh, got here. How I got here is why."
"Well, how did you get here?"
"Um, uh, oh, uh hang on," she stumbled, still dumbfounded, and shuffled through her pocket to bring out the Clock. He recognized it at once and reached out to take it, but she pulled back. "Wait—it... well, it burns people if they touch it besides me. It burned your dad."
"Really? But how is that possible? What is it?"
She sighed, looking down at it, "Well, from what I know, it's a time machine—that is, it's a 'magical' artifact that can move people through time. It moved me through time. I was... okay, so my family—my mom and some extended people—and I went on vacation to Scotland because we have a family castle in there, and I managed to find a secret room with stairs, and I went down there, and I found this in a chest with some letters, and then I cut my finger on it and then... there was... a lot of light and... I saw this—this man. I don't remember everything. I can get parts here and there, but it's hard to remember it all, but the man spoke to me. He was like a ghost or something or like a God or whatever, and he told me what I had to do, and then there were more lights and then I was unconscious and then I woke up in Firenze and this thing—this Clock—brought me to your dad. I... I know it's crazy, but... it's... It's real. It works. It's um... Mario, your dad, and I... we... we all know it's a Piece of Eden—you remember what you read in the books and paper? Well, this is one of those, and it controls time. It brought me here, and I've been lying to you this whole time because this thing could be dangerous in the wrong hands—not that it even works anymore except when it wants, which is almost never, and um... yeah. That's uh... yeah."
Ezio had said nothing. He just stared at the Clock in her hands, and now he was looking at her. He had his chin in his hands, thinking, and she glanced between the ground and his face. She wasn't sure which she could stand looking at, and she worried over what he was going to say. Did he even believe her? It seemed like it, but she wasn't sure. What if he hated her and she hadn't even said the worst part? She didn't know what she would do then, so she just stood there and waited for him. There was nothing else she could do.
"This, uh... it's kind of hard to believe... you're... sure this 'Clock' can do all that?" he inquired skeptically, and she didn't blame him.
She chuckled, "Mario and Giovanni asked the same. I'm sure. For one, it brought me here... and... it... well, it tells me things. Sometimes. Or it did. When I spoke with your dad, it told me about the Templars and the Pieces of Eden, and even your dad's name without ever meeting him. It... well, it doesn't work much anymore, but... it did...last year. It... it showed me what happened—at the trial."
He froze, eyes widening, "You saw—?"
"I saw them... the hanging... I saw Uberto and the other man next to them... I saw you come through the crowd... It showed it to me when they were hung right before when I wanted to get rid of it. It showed me when they were captured, too. I saw it all. I saw them attack everyone, and I saw Giovanni curse them and Uberto lie about some documents and... it... I saw it..."
"But... how? You weren't even there," he rumbled, shaking his head with disbelief.
"The Clock showed me a vision. I... actually, I had a dream... the night they were captured. That's when I saw that. I had a dream. It told me what happened, and I..." she paused, her voice choking some. She brought the Clock to her chest, her gaze falling with shame as she bit her lip. Ezio noticed at once and touched her arm, calling out to her. She sighed even deeper this time, body slumping. "Ezio... I... the Clock... it showed me what happened, and I told Mario about it, but... I should have... I should have gone when it did—it showed me before it happened. It gave me a vision of the future but I did nothing. If I had done something—if I had just convinced Mario... I could have..."
Ezio's hand faltered, falling some. His eyes widened again, and pain flickered across them. He pushed it back as best he could and touched both her shoulders, shaking his head.
"Catherine, you and I both know there was nothing we could do..."
The redhead shook her head, and shrugged his arms off, "But I could have! I could have done something! It told me what would happen but I did nothing and—and... Ezio, I... the man I mentioned... he... he told me a lot of things. A lot of them I don't remember, but I do remember one clearly. He told me I was being sent back to help someone—to help the Brotherhood. The Assassins. I was supposed to help your father and your family, or I thought I was. I'm sure I was... but... but I failed. I was sent back to help, but I was too weak and too stupid to help. Giovanni even sent me away because I was too weak and a lability, but even after all my training with Mario it wasn't going to be enough. I wasn't strong enough, and I didn't act when I should have, and I failed them—I failed you. I could have saved them, but I didn't. I didn't, and I'm so sorry, Ezio. I'm so, so, sorry. I should have done something. I should have done—done anything! But I—I...."
"Catherine."
She had been staring at the ground shamefully as she went on, and although his calling out to her had cut her off, she didn't look up until she felt his glove on her cheek. Even then she was reluctant, but in the end she turned her gaze upwards, her eyes starting to water. She thought she would find hatred or blame, but as always he astounded her. In his eyes she found only that warmth he'd given her ever since he'd come here. There was only kindness and comfort and it made her heart clench all the more. How could he not hate her? How could he look at her like he always did? How could he not be yelling at her? How? How?
"Catherine," he called again, and it was hard to keep his gaze, but she did. "You were the one who told me nothing could be done, and the same can be said for you. Even if this so-called man and this Clock brought you here, there was still nothing that could be done, and it was not your fault. To blame you would be as wrong as blaming myself, and I'm sorry if you've felt like it this whole time. I had no idea. I was blind to it. It is not your fault, and never think otherwise."
"But... I did fail... the Clock won't work anymore... I can't go home."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed again, leaning into his hand some, "The man—that God or whatever—said I could only go home if I helped your family... and now it won't work anymore. It hasn't worked for a year now, and I... I can't go home. I can't go back. I can't go back to my mom or my friends or my time..."
"You're certain? You are sure this 'God' meant my father? The Assassins are more than just him..."
"I'm sure. The Clock brought me to him. If not your family, then who else?" she asked, but then shook her head and a moment later, pulling away from him. "It's... it's too late now. I can't go home. Mario says I can stay here, but... ugh, don't worry about it. There's nothing I can do. I messed up, and that's all there is, and... well... now you know the truth. I'm the girl from the future with a time control device that doesn't work."
Ezio let out a soft chuckle, smiling warmly, "It is no wonder you constantly confound me... but you should not lose hope, Catherine. Why send you back when you were not ready? That is just too cruel. So keep hope. I may have lost my home, but yours is still just waiting for you to return. Your... mother, was it? She is waiting for you... although, I thought she had passed on."
Catherine looked to the young man, managing a small smile back. She even chuckled a little and wiped at her eyes were tears had threatened to form. She glanced down at her Clock, once more wishing it could take her back home, but knew it never would, and so returned it to her pocket. She rubbed the back of her neck as she let out a deep breath of air.
"Yeah, I, ah... might have mislead you on some family details," she grinned slightly. "And... thanks, Ezio. I can't guarantee I'll hope, but... thanks... and thanks for... not freaking out. Seriously, though—I think I'm going to freak out about you not freaking out."
"Truth be told... I suppose I should be angry. You and my father were lying to me all this time... but... I know you did it to protect me, even if I would have preferred to have been told. And if I am no longer angry with him, how can I be angry for you doing the same thing? That, and... well, after all I've seen and read, this doesn't seem all that strange. The Pieces of Eden were told to have had great power, and Uncle told me what he found beneath the city was one of such artifacts, which drove his men to madness... and there was one record of someone suggesting acts of God were actually these artifacts. I do not think all of that to be true, but I know you are not lying—not now, anyways... and as I said; it explains quite a lot about you. You never were like all the other women—even those that cross-dressed."
"Well, I guess I'm lucky then... and I think I owe you a lot of explanations about things."
"I would not mind it... in fact... I take it my father had you train because of your Clock?" he inquired with a slight smirk, and she nodded. "So he sent you to Monteriggioni to train as well?"
"Er, actually, no. He didn't want me to join the Order at all," she explained, and briefly looked down as a slight nerve was struck. She'd almost forgotten. Giovanni had thought her too weak or too dangerous or both to join. She shook it off, though, as she looked to the Villa. "He originally wanted me to go to England to join their order for protection, but they're having some conflict I think, so he sent me here instead. I decided to train despite his wishes. I thought... well, I hoped to convince him I was strong enough and reconsider letting me help. He, uh... he refused outright at first."
"Really? I admit, I'm surprised..."
"Yeah, well, you only saw me after six months of training. Before, I barely held my own, and, well... the Clock, when it worked, was dangerous. Just imagine if the Templars got their hands on it! Or, well, actually, it's only ever worked for me, and it burned your father when he tried to take it away. So I guess the big concern was if they got me and tried to make me use it. Not that I can control it anyways, but still."
He hummed, rubbing his chin, "That would be a travesty... but if it does not work now then it is not a problem. Perhaps... well, perhaps it is a good thing it doesn't work then."
"Maybe... but... still... my mom," Catherine smiled sadly, and found her hand in Ezio's, his fingers squeezing.
"Forgive me—I did not mean it like that. I hope you may return home one day. It's not right to be apart from one's family... I know all too well, and I miss them even more terribly now. I'm sure you've noticed, and I admit it has made me blind to your own agony... I wish you would have told me sooner; it was painful to watch you trying to speak with me like this."
She flushed, "Yeah, well... Mario said it was safer for you to not know, and I thought he was right, but then... I saw you looking at the drawings I made and how sad you were, and you've been distant, and I just... I knew you thought it was your fault they were gone, when it was mine... or well, I guess since we both keep saying it, it's neither of our faults, but still... you were so sad because... y'know, and I just... I couldn't stand seeing you like this. I knew I owed you the truth—especially after everything, but I was scared..."
"You? Scared?" Ezio laughed, and she huffed as she tore her hand away and folded her arms.
"Yes, scared, you jerk. I was worried you would hate me because I was supposed to help them, and I didn't, and then I'd lied to you the whole time, and I thought you would think I'm crazy or be weirded out by the truth and... I don't know—you wouldn't want to be around me anymore or something."
He laughed again as he put his hands on his hips, "How could I ever hate you? Catherine, you've done so much for me and my family! You've been there for me when I needed you most and you've helped me become stronger. I could never think less of you just because you came from some future, even if it is incredibly silly sounding and makes me think you're recounting some fairy tale. That or you are drunk or mad from training!"
"I am most certainly not drunk nor am I mad, so I assure you it is the truth," she pouted, glaring at him slightly, but then smiled and laughed, too. A brief pause followed, and she didn't know why or what had come over her, but she suddenly embraced him. She wrapped her arms around him tight, and pressed her face into his chest. Ezio did not waste time returned the embrace, chuckling softly. She smiled, "Again, thank-you. I'm glad you're okay with it, and I promise I won't lie about this stuff anymore."
"And I'm glad you won't—especially because I have so many things to ask you now," he grinned, which she returned sheepishly as she pulled away and stepped back. "For instance—what is this 'America' like? Are all their women like you? And how is it they speak Italian, too?"
"Italian?" she frowned, but then gasped and laughed. "Oh! Right, I forgot. The Clock does more than time travel. It's a translator. And knowledge library or whatever, but definitely a translator. Back home, English is the main language, but America is actually a big mixing pot of all kinds of cultures—Italian, German, English, Arabic, Russian, Asian, and everything. I actually haven't spoken a lick of Italian in my life, but the Clock translates what you're saying for me and me to you. In fact, right now, to me, you're speaking English. But to you, I'm speaking Italian, right?"
"That... okay now that is unbelievable. I think maybe you might be getting sick from this cold," he hummed with a wry grin.
She rolled her eyes, "I'm not. But, anyways... no, not all women are like me. More are than now, and we have a lot more rights than we used to—like women can have jobs that men had and we're supposed to be equals, and... oh! Um, right, sooo I can't exactly tell you everything about the future. I know you won't do anything with it, and I honestly don't know anything really about Italian history, so it's not such a big deal, but it's just... well, I don't want to take the chance of accidentally mentioning something I shouldn't and changing the future. Does that... make sense?"
"Well, as much as anything else, but I won't force you to tell me something you don't want to. If you feel it is not 'safe' or 'alright' to tell me, then don't... but I would like to know more about who you are—the real you."
"That I think I can do... just don't expect an explanation for everything because of the future-in-danger-business. But... I'll do what I can."
"Then my first question would be about your parents—you said your mother was alive?"
She chuckled sheepishly, "Ah, right... yeah, I, uh... well, there is some truth to what I told you, but... my Mom is alive. My dad... he is dead, though—he died a few years ago, but from a sickness that can't really be cured. Also, I didn't have servants and didn't live in the country, but I did have a two-story house that was pretty big."
"Ah... I am sorry for your loss," he rumbled, but she shook her head.
"Don't worry about it—remember how I said it gets easier in time? Well, it does... although we weren't nearly as close as you were," she mused, looking out to the landscape. A chill breeze came through then, and she saw snow falling. She pulled her cloak closer and picked up her lap. She met his gaze as she motioned back to the Villa. "Hey, how about we talk about this inside instead? People should be asleep, so I'm not too worried now."
"Sounds like a grand idea to me. I would rather not catch cold," he replied as he, too, pulled his cloak closer, grabbed his lantern, and headed back with her.
"Same...," she grinned, but then paused as a thought came to mind. "Umm... by the way... I, ah... I don't know if I want to tell Claudia yet. I know I will eventually... and maybe it will be tomorrow or the day after, but... don't say anything—not yet, okay?"
"Are you sure? She would understand..."
Catherine nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure. I will tell her... just not yet. Besides, she has other stuff to worry about."
"Well, I am honored to be one of the few that knows."
"I'm glad I finally told you. I was so worried, but now... It... it feels good to tell someone else. Giovanni would let me talk to him about it, but Mario didn't care all that much. He would talk about it a little, but not as much, but now that you know..."
"I will be happy to listen, and I told you nothing you said would change things. You need not worry so much," Ezio chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders for a quick hug.
She laughed, "So it seems. I'm sorry I doubted you. Just know that the future is a very, very different place. If you get scared, I'll stop."
"Me? Scared? Ha! You underestimate me, my dear Catherine. I am more than ready to handle anything you have to throw at me."
"Oh ho? Is that so! Well, ready yourself, little boy. You're about to get a crash course in the future," Catherine laughed, and as he joined her the relief she'd felt a flicker of in the midst of her worry swelled and enveloped her. It gave her such warmth and joy, she wondered why she had even worried in the first place.
At last, after months of her agony, she felt like herself again, and now she could really focus on helping Ezio. First, though, she would tell him all she could, and he would know her for who she really was. She was more than ready, and with this step—knowing that Ezio still accepted her despite everything—she knew things would be alright.