One Day
The youthfulness in the man before him made Ezio even more tired than he'd care to admit. Every fibre of him ached, with a bone-deep exhaustion that had set in so heavily over time that he didn't know who he was or where he was some days. It didn't matter so much, because Sofia would help him, and Marcello and Flavia were the joy of his life, and they made the pain feel less horrible, they made the ache more bearable.
Time was something Ezio didn't think about anymore. With the things he had seen and the ghosts of memories that still haunted him, he didn't contemplate the magic of time and how easily it slipped between one's fingers, escaping you before you had a chance to realise it was gone. Memories of a woman with chocolate coloured hair and an English accent followed him in his dreams, thoughts of sons he never had, sons that would live in centuries to come, of a family he had that was gone now, but never forgotten.
He knew why the boy was here. They lived here, once, for seventeen years they lived here, in this city that wasn't theirs anymore, but would always remain as deeply a part of them as the pain they carried.
He could see tears in the hazel eyes looking into his own, and Ezio sighed softly as the boy, barely nineteen, clung to his robes.
"You have to tell me, I need to know why," the young man demanded, and Ezio let himself look over the features of his younger self. Handsome, yet worn. They bore a scar that was the start of their war, a mark on their face that would fade with age but never vanish.
The robes the younger man wore were sewn together with pain and fond memories, doused in the blood of their enemies, and a little of their own, and lined with the fate they were not prepared for. He was sure the anger was well placed, and he didn't quite know if he should comfort his younger self. He never was fond of false comfort.
"What is the point of it all? Why is this happening? What is all this pain for?!"
Ezio watched those tears finally escape those brown eyes and closed his own, sighing once more. He wasn't able to help. He knew this would come to be something the young man would understand, one day, many years from now. The young man had lost his father and brothers and, God, there was so much more he would lose, but Ezio knew there was gain, as well, that in amongst the pain and revenge, the boy would find answers and hope and truth, he would find knowledge of that man, the Cipher, his grandson.
"Answer me! Do not ignore me! Do not remain silent!"
The words cut deep but Ezio knew he couldn't. He knew he would tell him everything if he began, and it was not his place to do such a thing. So, he pried the boy's hands from his robes and turned away from him, pacing the yard of their childhood home. The flowers his mother once tended were still beautiful, and he swore he could hear Claudia singing to herself from where she once sat on the bench. He could hear his father and Federico discussing business together. He could hear Petruccio coughing -- such a sickly child he was. Cut down in such a short and painful life.
He took a deep breath, his eyes finding the sky, and for a moment he felt like he was up there, above, flying high, and it flashed before his eyes -- he had flown before. Maybe he'd fly again, one day.
"You must know why... please... I need to know if this is all worth it. I need to know that I am on the right path."
Ezio's hands curled into fists and he dropped his head, eyes closing again for a moment, before he turned to face the youthful, broken young man. Good grief, he hadn't even lost Cristina yet. He hadn't even faced half of the pain he would, and Ezio felt his own eyes burn with tears for a moment. Cristina, Caterina... Helen... his life was filled with women he adored that he would never quite be able to keep hold of. Sofia was a blessing, his last ray of sunshine before his day drew to an end, the last chapter of a story that was worth being written, and Ezio managed a smile.
It wasn't enough to stave off the boy, and soon he was clung to again, and the grief on the young man's face made his own features fall.
"All of this pain and suffering, what is it for? Why won't you say anything? Tell me, please!"
Ezio watched him, with unabashed and unashamed agony in his gaze. He wished he could. He wished he could promise him the world would get better, that they would be fine, but with all the things he had seen, he couldn't lie like that. No, he couldn't promise a thing, because he was not that man anymore. There was no way to be certain that pain and suffering would not follow him forever, even if he told him everything. He would learn, soon, that he was not alone, that Desmond was watching over them, walking their journey alongside them.
For now, however, Ezio had no answers for the boy, and simply he said: "You will understand one day."
He freed himself from the young man's grip, leaving him there, in his agony and drowning in questions that would not all be answered. He needed to return to the Plaza, to Sofia and Flavia, where they collected vegetables for their dinner. He needed to sit down and rest awhile.
Time was something Ezio didn't think about anymore. With the things he had seen and the ghosts of memories that still haunted him, he didn't contemplate the magic of time and how easily it slipped between one's fingers, escaping you before you had a chance to realise it was gone. Memories of a woman with chocolate coloured hair and an English accent followed him in his dreams, thoughts of sons he never had, sons that would live in centuries to come, of a family he had that was gone now, but never forgotten.
He knew why the boy was here. They lived here, once, for seventeen years they lived here, in this city that wasn't theirs anymore, but would always remain as deeply a part of them as the pain they carried.
He could see tears in the hazel eyes looking into his own, and Ezio sighed softly as the boy, barely nineteen, clung to his robes.
"You have to tell me, I need to know why," the young man demanded, and Ezio let himself look over the features of his younger self. Handsome, yet worn. They bore a scar that was the start of their war, a mark on their face that would fade with age but never vanish.
The robes the younger man wore were sewn together with pain and fond memories, doused in the blood of their enemies, and a little of their own, and lined with the fate they were not prepared for. He was sure the anger was well placed, and he didn't quite know if he should comfort his younger self. He never was fond of false comfort.
"What is the point of it all? Why is this happening? What is all this pain for?!"
Ezio watched those tears finally escape those brown eyes and closed his own, sighing once more. He wasn't able to help. He knew this would come to be something the young man would understand, one day, many years from now. The young man had lost his father and brothers and, God, there was so much more he would lose, but Ezio knew there was gain, as well, that in amongst the pain and revenge, the boy would find answers and hope and truth, he would find knowledge of that man, the Cipher, his grandson.
"Answer me! Do not ignore me! Do not remain silent!"
The words cut deep but Ezio knew he couldn't. He knew he would tell him everything if he began, and it was not his place to do such a thing. So, he pried the boy's hands from his robes and turned away from him, pacing the yard of their childhood home. The flowers his mother once tended were still beautiful, and he swore he could hear Claudia singing to herself from where she once sat on the bench. He could hear his father and Federico discussing business together. He could hear Petruccio coughing -- such a sickly child he was. Cut down in such a short and painful life.
He took a deep breath, his eyes finding the sky, and for a moment he felt like he was up there, above, flying high, and it flashed before his eyes -- he had flown before. Maybe he'd fly again, one day.
"You must know why... please... I need to know if this is all worth it. I need to know that I am on the right path."
Ezio's hands curled into fists and he dropped his head, eyes closing again for a moment, before he turned to face the youthful, broken young man. Good grief, he hadn't even lost Cristina yet. He hadn't even faced half of the pain he would, and Ezio felt his own eyes burn with tears for a moment. Cristina, Caterina... Helen... his life was filled with women he adored that he would never quite be able to keep hold of. Sofia was a blessing, his last ray of sunshine before his day drew to an end, the last chapter of a story that was worth being written, and Ezio managed a smile.
It wasn't enough to stave off the boy, and soon he was clung to again, and the grief on the young man's face made his own features fall.
"All of this pain and suffering, what is it for? Why won't you say anything? Tell me, please!"
Ezio watched him, with unabashed and unashamed agony in his gaze. He wished he could. He wished he could promise him the world would get better, that they would be fine, but with all the things he had seen, he couldn't lie like that. No, he couldn't promise a thing, because he was not that man anymore. There was no way to be certain that pain and suffering would not follow him forever, even if he told him everything. He would learn, soon, that he was not alone, that Desmond was watching over them, walking their journey alongside them.
For now, however, Ezio had no answers for the boy, and simply he said: "You will understand one day."
He freed himself from the young man's grip, leaving him there, in his agony and drowning in questions that would not all be answered. He needed to return to the Plaza, to Sofia and Flavia, where they collected vegetables for their dinner. He needed to sit down and rest awhile.