Knives Don't Have Your Back: Chapter XIV
Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood
Rated: PG13 (NC17 overall)
Word Count: 4,751 / 90,339
Knives Don't Have Your Back
NOTICE: More fanart now exists for this story! Please click here to see the charming picture of Malfatto by silvestris from Chapter III. And if you haven't done so yet, please click here to see SilvesterVitale's beautiful depiction of the masquerade scene from Chapter VI!
† XIV †
Teodor reached out over the still warm expanse of Malfatto’s bed, the pads of his fingers skating over the cream-colored sheets. The curtains behind the bed had been pushed open, bathing the room in starlight. A few candles were beginning to drip down the legs of the small table beside the bed. Teodor watched the wax fall with half-lidded eyes.
The scrape of stubble against his knee made him twitch. Using his other hand he reached blindly for the source, sighing softly as his fingers threaded through short hair. Malfatto curled into the touch, but then shook him off as he continued to taste his way up the length of Teodor’s thigh. Teodor pulled his hand back and left Malfatto to do what he wanted, letting his eyes slip closed as sharp teeth skimmed across his skin.
The first candle winked out. Smoke whispered in the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat. Teodor hummed as he felt Malfatto bite into the curve of his hip, his fingers sliding over Teodor’s slick stomach and into the sheets as he steadied himself. Another candle went out, its only fanfare the wet noise of Malfatto’s eager mouth sucking a punishing bruise into his skin. As pleasure gave way to pain Teodor opened his eyes and shifted enough to look down at the strong line of Malfatto’s shoulder, the arch of his long neck.
Teodor made a soft sound and Malfatto pulled off just before true discomfort set in. Satisfied with the mark he’d left on Teodor’s hip, Malfatto allowed himself to be pulled up by the back of his neck, his warm body blanketing Teodor’s own. Malfatto’s arms were trembling slightly from their earlier exertions and Teodor pressed a hand to the small of his back, forcing Malfatto to let him take the weight. There was a gross squelching sound as their wet stomachs pressed against each other. Teodor laughed. Malfatto simply looked thoughtful.
Malfatto braced himself on his elbows just above Teodor’s shoulders. He dropped his head to place a soft kiss to the end of Teodor’s collarbone.
“I know how to keep you in Roma,” Malfatto whispered.
Teodor breathed deeply, the smell of cyanide fresh in Malfatto’s hair like bitter almonds. He let his hand slide along the doctor’s lower back, mapping the hills and valleys of Malfatto’s spine. His order to ride for the mountains, to go back to the campaign, had been delayed due to the mishap at the races. With the loss of Donato’s men and the increase of assassin attacks, nearly a week had passed before Teodor was once more scheduled to head into the Romagna. Tomorrow was to be his last day inside the city.
“You have excellent timing,” Teodor murmured, arching slightly beneath the touch of Malfatto’s lips.
“Tell Cesare you have information on the Rosa in Fiore,” Malfatto said, pressing his forehead to Teodor’s neck. Teodor felt the flutter of his eyelashes against his skin.
“But I don’t,” Teodor pointed out, tilting his head sideways to give Malfatto more space.
“I do,” Malfatto whispered. “Ezio Auditore’s sister and mother run the house. Surely your tactical expertise will be needed to plan a raid.”
Teodor scowled, the precious calm of afterglow ebbing away. Malfatto’s information was not only devastating, but the fact that he knew it at all was concerning. That aside, Teodor had absolutely no intention of helping Cesare fight off the assassins. Although, he considered, if the remainder of the Auditore family were to fall it might spur Ezio Auditore to finally rid the city of the Borgia once and for all. Unfortunately, the master assassin would most likely want revenge for his loss, and Teodor had long been stained from the bloody siege of Monteriggioni. He was not looking to paint more targets on his back.
“So the brothel is an assassin stronghold,” Teodor murmured idly. Brothels in general were easy places for a man of any affiliation to gain information. The fact that Ezio’s sister and mother were running the Rosa in Fiore suggested the house was much more than it seemed. “It would take awhile to plan an attack. We’d have to be very careful.”
Malfatto hummed his agreement, lips idly brushing against Teodor’s throat. He was tracing the light yellow bruises his own hands had left. It was odd to think that Rico’s death and the subsequent fallout had only been a little over ten days ago.
Something clicked in Teodor’s brain.
“Was it the courtesans? Is that how you found out?” he asked, tone soft but unyielding. Malfatto stilled against him but didn’t answer. Teodor didn’t need him to. The gruesome scene by the Tiber played over in his head.
“They were allied with the assassins,” Teodor mused aloud. “And so you killed them.”
Malfatto was silent for a long time. “It had to look like murder. I didn’t want it to appear that they were being targeted for information.”
Teodor had seen murder. He’d committed murder. He knew the differences between killing, murder and execution. What Malfatto had done went far beyond the limits of those three. Knowing what he did now, he understood that Malfatto knew only one way of gaining information, and it was grisly.
Malfatto stirred as Teodor’s silence stretched out into the shadows. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and maneuvered his legs from between Teodor’s thighs to either side of his hips. Malfatto’s blue eyes cut through the darkness, searching Teodor’s face for answers.
“Does it bother you?” Malfatto asked, sounding as if he couldn’t imagine a reason why torturing people to death would be the least bit concerning.
Teodor looked away, his gaze returning to the empty stretch of bed beside him and the hand that moved across it. He didn’t have an answer for Malfatto. Well, he did-the answer was plainly yes-but he couldn’t give a reason. He had killed people in brutal fashion with little remorse. At the end of the day, Teodor was no different.
“I gave them something for the pain,” Malfatto said, sounding a touch eager in his attempt to soothe. “I’m not cruel.”
“I know,” Teodor said absently. He was sure Malfatto never intended to be cruel in the things he did. Teodor was rarely intentionally cruel himself. But Malfatto suffered from scientific curiosity. There was only one way to learn to torture a human being, and it ran in parallel with a desire to learn about the body, something a doctor would take great interest in. For that reason, Malfatto was capable of crossing lines Teodor never could.
It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.
Teodor turned his head to Malfatto, read the apprehension in his face. He struggled to explain himself. “It was the screaming,” he said. “It sounded like they were going mad.”
Malfatto’s brows knit together. “Of course they did. They were dying.”
“More than that,” Teodor said. In the corner of the room, he heard the echo of Nanette’s laughter. She was always with him now, seen and heard from just beyond his view. The waves had stopped, but only because he was too far beneath them to notice.
A heavy thud sounded downstairs. Malfatto sat up fully at the sound, his face swiveling to the door.
“I’m going to have to restrain him,” Malfatto murmured.
Teodor felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips. “He can be very stubborn.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Malfatto lifted himself off of both Teodor and the bed, his legs elegantly stretching to clear the space. Teodor shifted to watch Malfatto dress. He was as quick as a soldier when it came to putting on his uniform. It took him only a minute, maybe two if he bothered with the bracers, and Malfatto was gone, wrapped up behind his mask and sliding through the darkness. In this familiar space the dark glasses didn’t seem to hinder him and Malfatto didn’t so much as light a candle as he swept down the stairs.
Teodor listened for the click of the first door, then the second, and bit his lip as he heard the faint rumble of an injured man repeatedly swearing. He could make out the words if he chose, not because he could hear them, but because of the familiarity.
It had taken Malfatto a full day to wake Donato. Teodor had convinced Cesare to let Donato live, citing that killing him would only make Cesare appear a sore loser to the citizens of Roma. If Donato was able to be revived, he could publicly announce he had cheated his way into the title. A lie, obviously, but Teodor managed to navigate the fiery pit of Cesare’s pride well enough to get him to agree. By that time Donato had been unconscious and without aid for almost a day. After he was released to Malfatto, it had been another twelve hours until he woke.
Malfatto had warned Teodor that people sometimes came back strange, came back as not themselves, even when they were as strong as the captain. Teodor tried to imagine Donato waking up as something less than he was, rendered dumb and slow by his hand. With gritted teeth Teodor had brought Donato to Malfatto’s shop and denied the possible reality as long as he could.
Donato had woken in the late evening. Malfatto had been up to his beak in bandages, sitting on one of his cots in the room he reserved for patients as he rolled and examined his supplies, sorting the badly damaged to the salvageable. Teodor had been leaning against the wall by Donato’s bedside, hands in his pockets as he stared at Donato’s swollen face, willing him to move.
It turned out Donato’s mind was sound after all. Donato’s eyes had been open less than a few seconds before Malfatto was beside him, a list of questions spilling from behind the mask. Donato had answered Malfatto in a weak voice, spotted Teodor out of the corner of his eye, and immediately slipped a knife from the doctor’s belt. Teodor barely managed to avoid the blade that barreled his way, ducking just in time. Donato had screamed as Malfatto caught his wrists, not out of fury with the doctor, but out of fear.
Teodor had left the room. He had walked out of the shop and sat on the small porch in the back, watching the moonlight passing over Malfatto’s garden. Delicately, so as not to destroy a particularly valuable herb, he had vomited into a small patch of grass over and over again until his stomach seized from it. Teodor blamed his reaction on the smell of Donato’s bloodied and soiled body, infection already settling in.
An hour later Malfatto had come out to the porch. “I think it would be best to avoid the captain for awhile,” he had said mildly. “Until he’s more recovered.”
“You don’t think I’m very good for his health?” Teodor had said with a touch of dark humor.
Malfatto had brushed a hand through Teodor’s hair. “I didn’t say it was for his benefit.”
Teodor hadn’t gone into the room since. Six days had passed, the door to Donato’s room haunting him each time he walked by. Only Malfatto went in and out. Like a coward, Teodor kept to the upstairs room as much as possible, worried that if he spent time in the back room he would end up pressing his ear to that thin door, listening in. He wasn’t sure if Donato knew that he was here. He didn’t ask if Malfatto had said something to him. Malfatto didn’t talk about Donato much and Teodor didn’t ask.
Another muffled shout rose from beneath the floorboards. Teodor finally wrenched himself from the bed, shuffling about the room until he managed to light a few lanterns and find his clothes. Judging by the continued thumps and loud mutters, Teodor assumed that Donato was able to walk again, or at least had decided he could. A mobile Donato was a much bigger headache than an incapacitated one, and while Malfatto was a resourceful and capable man Teodor couldn’t shake his light concern. Donato had earned his deadly reputation.
Teodor came down the stairs on light feet, remembering to lock the door to the upstairs at the last second. Malfatto had lit a few candles and a lantern, dark yellow light spilling into the black. The door to Donato’s room stood open. Teodor took cover along the wall before daring to peek inside.
Malfatto and Donato stood in the center of the room, but instead of the standoff Teodor expected to encounter, Malfatto was helping Donato to walk. Donato had an arm around Malfatto’s neck for support, his shorter height forcing Malfatto to hunch. Malfatto braced an arm around Donato’s waist, his other hand holding onto the one Donato had slung about his neck.
Stitches tracked in long lines about Donato’s face and the back of his head, threading through his short hair. Donato wore only an unlaced shift that revealed a good deal of skin. The swollen welts he had seen were gone, Donato’s chest and legs marbled in purple and blue. Donato’s left knee had taken the worst of the damage. Teodor winced at the sight of it-the knee was twice the size of his right.
“You said I would have to strengthen it,” Donato accused, apparently too fixated on Malfatto and his knee to notice Teodor.
“After the swelling goes down,” Malfatto said patiently. He moved as if to turn them back to Donato’s cot, but Donato refused to budge.
“The swelling has gone down,” Donato insisted. “Cazzo! Lasciatemi andare!”
Malfatto did as asked. He slipped out from under Donato’s arm, leaving the captain wavering on his one good leg. Malfatto took a step to the side and looked at Donato expectantly. For his part, Donato looked slightly surprised, but then he realized Malfatto’s plan. Grinning at the challenge, Donato took a step forward, putting weight on his injured knee.
Teodor tensed. The patches of unbruised skin on Donato’s face and chest went white with shock and he swayed dangerously but did not fall. Malfatto didn’t move to help, simply waited for Donato to make his choice. Donato’s teeth flashed in the darkness and he snarled into it, then took another step.
As expected, Donato crumpled, a string of curses following him on the way down. Instinctively Teodor moved to help him, but stopped short of actually touching Donato once his feet had carried him across the room. He stood warily, the tips of his boots inches from Donato’s hands and bent head.
Donato’s breathing was labored. A soft sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead and his upper lip. When he looked up to Teodor his eyes were glassy with pain, but the anger they held was unmistakable.
“Teodor,” Donato spat. He curled in on himself, as if he could lessen the agony by making himself smaller. “I’m in pain,” he said to no one in particular. “Of course you would be here.”
Teodor flinched and Malfatto stepped in, syringe at the ready. Steadying Donato’s calf with one hand, he quickly inserted the needle into Donato’s injured knee. The resulting howl reverberated around the room and Donato’s eyes rolled to a pure white. Malfatto gingerly lifted Donato off the dingy floor with a grace that spoke of years of practice.
Incapacitated by either pain or whatever substance Malfatto had drugged him with, Donato didn’t fight back. He groaned against Malfatto’s shoulder, mumbling a promise for vengeance that was punctuated by sharp inhalations. Stunned and mute, Teodor watched Malfatto deposit the captain on his usual cot. Once Donato was on his back, Malfatto pushed his thin shift to the tops of his thighs and ran his leathered hands down the sides of Donato’s leg, prodding at his wounded knee.
“What did you...merda...” Donato said, voice garbled. True to form, Malfatto didn’t reply, only slipped a rolled up blanket underneath his leg to cushion it. A minute later Donato’s eyes slid shut, his labored breathing beginning to even out.
Teodor moved hesitantly towards the two men. “How is he?”
“He’ll be fine,” Malfatto replied, covering Donato carefully with a blanket.
Teodor’s hand hovered over Donato’s close-cropped hair, but the maze of stitches scared him off. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands beneath his elbows.
“Isn’t dangerous to let him even try to walk?” Teodor said, curious at Malfatto’s reasoning.
“He didn’t believe me when I said to stay in bed,” Malfatto said matter-of-factly. “Now he does.”
“He always did do things the hard way,” Teodor muttered. Malfatto’s mask tilted sideways in his familiar expression of confusion. Teodor gazed down at Donato’s sleeping face. “When will he wake?”
“In a few hours or so,” Malfatto replied, making his way to the door. Teodor followed him out to the back room. Malfatto stopped at his desk, thumbing through a sheaf of papers he had left there. A neat row of four glass jars on one of the operating tables caught Teodor’s eye. Inside the jars were pairs of feet and hands, all human, all submerged in a yellowing liquid.
“Where did you get these?” he asked, but Malfatto didn’t answer. Teodor gently picked up one of the jars and examined the five waxy fingers inside. Short, stubby, with slight calluses. The back of the hand tapered to where a narrow wrist once was.
“A woman?” he asked, turning to look at Malfatto.
“Very good,” Malfatto said, dropping his stack of papers on the desk. He came over to Teodor and took the jar from him. “There is one more bone in the human hand than there is in the foot,” Malfatto murmured, carefully setting the jar back in line. “I don’t think I’ll ever know why.”
Teodor shot Malfatto a puzzled look and then reached for his hat. He didn’t want to stay down here with Donato and Malfatto’s odd experiments, wanting instead to return to the bed upstairs. To his dismay, Malfatto caught him by the wrist before his fingers could reach the brim.
“I have to go out for a bit,” Malfatto said in a careful tone. Teodor heard only the ramifications behind the statement, knowing full well what Malfatto’s late-night romps entailed. Something cold crept down his spine.
Teodor considered asking Malfatto to stay. He considered the irony of one murderer trying to cage another. To his left, Nanette stood with her arms crossed, wet hair plastered to the sides of her grinning face.
“Be safe,” Teodor said, and let him go.
† † †
The morning bloomed bright through the stained-glass windows in Malfatto’s shop. The light did nothing to ease the soft headache starting to spread behind Teodor’s bleary eyes. He yawned in spite of the sun, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms high above his head. He cast a baleful eye to the papers in front of him on Malfatto’s desk. He had been up the rest of the night crafting a plan to begin infiltrating and eventually raiding the Rosa in Fiore, wanting to be prepared when he presented it to Cesare in the afternoon. It was disheartening to think of the effort he would have to put into a plan he never intended to execute, but he needed to be convincing.
Malfatto hadn’t returned yet. His absence fed Teodor’s already considerable paranoia but he steadfastly refused to pay it much mind. Malfatto kept strange hours. Teodor was more concerned by the task of caring for Donato alone.
When stress and loss had corroded the morale of his soldiers, Teodor had found that giving them tasks to perform had been more helpful than long stretches of inactivity. Soldiers were built to work, to do, and with that in mind Teodor forced himself up from the desk and set about making food for himself and Donato.
A little while later Teodor braved the door to the patient room, balancing bowls of porridge and a fruit plate in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other. He wasn’t sure if Malfatto would have allowed Donato coffee or been pleased about sharing his stores of pineapple but Teodor needed the peace offering.
The windowless room was dark and stuffy, the candles long burnt out. Teodor left the door wide open, the greens and blues of the stained-glass lighting his way as he moved inside. He carefully set down the food and drinks on an empty cot next to Donato and took a look at his friend. Donato was still on his back, his leg partially immobilized by Malfatto’s strategically placed blankets. In the odd light his skin looked even more mottled. His hands were fisted in the blanket and held close to his chest, making Teodor wonder if he was cold. Teodor reached out to touch Donato’s hand and jumped as the captain spoke.
“Don’t think you can placate me by bringing me coffee,” Donato rumbled, eyes still closed. “I am not going to do your silly tests or have any more of your needles.”
Teodor cleared his throat. Donato’s eyes snapped open.
“Where’s the doctor?” Donato asked after a long moment.
“Out,” Teodor said. His realized his hand was still hovering over Donato’s and snatched it back. Donato glared up at him. “I brought you breakfast,” he said lamely.
“I’m not hungry,” Donato said briskly, turning his head away.
“You have to eat,” Teodor argued. Donato ignored him, resolute. Teodor shifted from one foot to another, trying to decide what to do. For the first time he understood Malfatto’s silence with his patients and decided to act accordingly.
Without warning, Teodor hooked two hands underneath Donato’s arms. Donato made a noise of protest but was helpless to stop Teodor from dragging him into a sitting position. Teodor tried his best not to disturb Donato’s leg and was surprised at the strength it required to move Donato so carefully.
“You’re just as handsy as your doctor,” Donato snarled when Teodor managed to get him upright. Teodor ignored him and thrust the hot bowl of porridge under his nose, forcibly wrapping one of Donato’s hands around the bowl and spoon. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and stared at Donato pointedly.
Donato gave him a nasty smile and shoved a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, then went back to glaring at Teodor.
“I’ll make you eat that if I have to,” Teodor warned. Donato gave him a measured look, then reached for one of the steaming mugs on the cot next to him. Teodor thought about withholding the coffee but decided against it, instead handing Donato one of the cups. Donato took a long swallow, his face softening momentarily at the taste of the bitter brew, and finally began to quietly eat his food. Teodor leaned against a nearby wall and nursed his own mug.
“Why are you here?” Donato asked after awhile.
Teodor bit his lip absently, thinking on how to respond. He decided to go with honesty. “I wanted to make sure you were okay-”
Donato huffed. “Despite your best efforts.”
“-and to say I was sorry,” Teodor finished. Donato’s eyes flicked away, staring at the blank wall to his left. Teodor watched the tense line in Donato’s jaw. “I really am sorry,” he whispered. “I wish I could have done something different, but I didn’t--”
“You saved yourself, Teodor,” Donato said in a hollow voice, bravado vanishing. “I understand that. That’s what I would want for you.” Donato turned furious brown eyes on him. “But I never thought you would betray me, even after what you...”
Rico and Nanette hung in the air between them.
Donato’s voice wavered. “You were my family, Teodor.”
Teodor gripped his cup with white knuckles. This conversation was inevitable, but Donato’s opening attack was more brutal than he’d anticipated.
“I wanted to protect you,” Teodor whispered.
Donato’s eyes widened, looking both baffled and insulted. “Protect me?” he spat. “How could you-”
“Well what did you expect?” Teodor answered, surprised at the jolt of anger that went through him. “What did you think would happen, pulling that stunt?”
“You nearly killed me,” Donato replied with equal venom. The food in his lap was forgotten, Donato’s hand absently curled around the handle of his spoon as if it were a blade.
“No,” Teodor said, shaking his head. “No, they would have killed you. Either I watched you die or I took it into my own hands. Do you think I wanted to do that? Do you think I honestly wanted to hurt you?”
“I don’t know!” Donato yelled. Teodor reeled as if he’d been slapped. Donato’s eyes roamed the room, searching for something. Sweat was beginning to bead along his forehead. “I don’t know what to think about you anymore,” he said.
Teodor swallowed and looked away. His stomach roiled and he carefully set his cup aside although it wasn’t the source of his sickness.
“I could never do what you did,” Donato said after awhile.
“I would never want you to,” Teodor said in earnest. Without thinking about it, he reached out to Donato. It was a mistake. Donato flinched away from Teodor as if his hand were a hot iron, his arm flying up to block his touch. Teodor froze, horrified.
Donato wouldn’t look at him. Slowly he lowered his hand, using his blanket to mop up the bit of porridge that had spilled.
“Did you think you could just come in here and explain it away?” Donato asked, his voice husky and soft. He sounded completely unlike the man Teodor had come to know. “I don’t forgive you. I can’t even look at you without wanting to hurt you. I want so badly to hurt you, Teodor.”
“Donato,” Teodor breathed. His ribs felt like they were constricting his heart.
“All of my men are dead because of me,” Donato continued, heedless. “Even you, because you are not the friend I remember.”
Teodor was silent, unable to make excuses, to convince Donato that his intentions were good. Teodor didn’t even know if they were.
“You should have let them kill me,” Donato finished, voice breaking. He didn’t even sound like he was talking to Teodor anymore, but to himself. “I wish you had. I’ll never forgive you, Teodor. I want to forgive you, but I can’t and I hate you for it.”
Teodor felt heat welling in his face, concentrated just behind his eyes. He blinked rapidly, so stunned by his reaction that the blistering hurt inside his chest was almost an afterthought. He forced himself to stand, taking a deep breath as he did so.
“I’m not sorry I saved you,” Teodor said.
“You didn’t save me,” Donato said. “I didn’t need to be saved until you stepped in. Sometimes, Teodor, your decisions can’t be about if someone will live or die, but about the cost.”
The cost would have been losing you, Teodor wanted to say, but he knew that’s not what Donato needed to hear. What Donato needed was his old friend Teodor, who was quiet and serious and never talked about the things he did in the dark. A friend who Donato could make fun of and hang onto when he’d had too much ale, who laughed at his jokes and the outrageous lies he told about the hundreds of women he’d bedded. A friend who needed to be reminded to eat and never straightened his bunk but would always, always have Donato’s back in a fight.
“Malfatto should be back soon,” Teodor said, turning away from Donato. “If there’s anything else you need, I’ll be right outside.”
“I think I’ll be needing a new doctor,” Donato said softly. “I don’t wish to stay here, and it seems you never leave.”
Teodor halted mid-step. “Fine,” he said. “I leave for Castel Sant’Angelo in an hour. I’ll send someone to fetch you. You can even be gone before I come back.”
Teodor walked to the door, hoping Donato would say something. Tell him he would stay, that maybe everything wasn’t as ruined as he had claimed. But silence reigned, and Teodor couldn’t say he had expected otherwise. He left the door cracked as he walked out, and didn’t look back.
† † †
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author's notes | warnings
Rated: PG13 (NC17 overall)
Word Count: 4,751 / 90,339
Knives Don't Have Your Back
NOTICE: More fanart now exists for this story! Please click here to see the charming picture of Malfatto by silvestris from Chapter III. And if you haven't done so yet, please click here to see SilvesterVitale's beautiful depiction of the masquerade scene from Chapter VI!
† XIV †
Teodor reached out over the still warm expanse of Malfatto’s bed, the pads of his fingers skating over the cream-colored sheets. The curtains behind the bed had been pushed open, bathing the room in starlight. A few candles were beginning to drip down the legs of the small table beside the bed. Teodor watched the wax fall with half-lidded eyes.
The scrape of stubble against his knee made him twitch. Using his other hand he reached blindly for the source, sighing softly as his fingers threaded through short hair. Malfatto curled into the touch, but then shook him off as he continued to taste his way up the length of Teodor’s thigh. Teodor pulled his hand back and left Malfatto to do what he wanted, letting his eyes slip closed as sharp teeth skimmed across his skin.
The first candle winked out. Smoke whispered in the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat. Teodor hummed as he felt Malfatto bite into the curve of his hip, his fingers sliding over Teodor’s slick stomach and into the sheets as he steadied himself. Another candle went out, its only fanfare the wet noise of Malfatto’s eager mouth sucking a punishing bruise into his skin. As pleasure gave way to pain Teodor opened his eyes and shifted enough to look down at the strong line of Malfatto’s shoulder, the arch of his long neck.
Teodor made a soft sound and Malfatto pulled off just before true discomfort set in. Satisfied with the mark he’d left on Teodor’s hip, Malfatto allowed himself to be pulled up by the back of his neck, his warm body blanketing Teodor’s own. Malfatto’s arms were trembling slightly from their earlier exertions and Teodor pressed a hand to the small of his back, forcing Malfatto to let him take the weight. There was a gross squelching sound as their wet stomachs pressed against each other. Teodor laughed. Malfatto simply looked thoughtful.
Malfatto braced himself on his elbows just above Teodor’s shoulders. He dropped his head to place a soft kiss to the end of Teodor’s collarbone.
“I know how to keep you in Roma,” Malfatto whispered.
Teodor breathed deeply, the smell of cyanide fresh in Malfatto’s hair like bitter almonds. He let his hand slide along the doctor’s lower back, mapping the hills and valleys of Malfatto’s spine. His order to ride for the mountains, to go back to the campaign, had been delayed due to the mishap at the races. With the loss of Donato’s men and the increase of assassin attacks, nearly a week had passed before Teodor was once more scheduled to head into the Romagna. Tomorrow was to be his last day inside the city.
“You have excellent timing,” Teodor murmured, arching slightly beneath the touch of Malfatto’s lips.
“Tell Cesare you have information on the Rosa in Fiore,” Malfatto said, pressing his forehead to Teodor’s neck. Teodor felt the flutter of his eyelashes against his skin.
“But I don’t,” Teodor pointed out, tilting his head sideways to give Malfatto more space.
“I do,” Malfatto whispered. “Ezio Auditore’s sister and mother run the house. Surely your tactical expertise will be needed to plan a raid.”
Teodor scowled, the precious calm of afterglow ebbing away. Malfatto’s information was not only devastating, but the fact that he knew it at all was concerning. That aside, Teodor had absolutely no intention of helping Cesare fight off the assassins. Although, he considered, if the remainder of the Auditore family were to fall it might spur Ezio Auditore to finally rid the city of the Borgia once and for all. Unfortunately, the master assassin would most likely want revenge for his loss, and Teodor had long been stained from the bloody siege of Monteriggioni. He was not looking to paint more targets on his back.
“So the brothel is an assassin stronghold,” Teodor murmured idly. Brothels in general were easy places for a man of any affiliation to gain information. The fact that Ezio’s sister and mother were running the Rosa in Fiore suggested the house was much more than it seemed. “It would take awhile to plan an attack. We’d have to be very careful.”
Malfatto hummed his agreement, lips idly brushing against Teodor’s throat. He was tracing the light yellow bruises his own hands had left. It was odd to think that Rico’s death and the subsequent fallout had only been a little over ten days ago.
Something clicked in Teodor’s brain.
“Was it the courtesans? Is that how you found out?” he asked, tone soft but unyielding. Malfatto stilled against him but didn’t answer. Teodor didn’t need him to. The gruesome scene by the Tiber played over in his head.
“They were allied with the assassins,” Teodor mused aloud. “And so you killed them.”
Malfatto was silent for a long time. “It had to look like murder. I didn’t want it to appear that they were being targeted for information.”
Teodor had seen murder. He’d committed murder. He knew the differences between killing, murder and execution. What Malfatto had done went far beyond the limits of those three. Knowing what he did now, he understood that Malfatto knew only one way of gaining information, and it was grisly.
Malfatto stirred as Teodor’s silence stretched out into the shadows. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and maneuvered his legs from between Teodor’s thighs to either side of his hips. Malfatto’s blue eyes cut through the darkness, searching Teodor’s face for answers.
“Does it bother you?” Malfatto asked, sounding as if he couldn’t imagine a reason why torturing people to death would be the least bit concerning.
Teodor looked away, his gaze returning to the empty stretch of bed beside him and the hand that moved across it. He didn’t have an answer for Malfatto. Well, he did-the answer was plainly yes-but he couldn’t give a reason. He had killed people in brutal fashion with little remorse. At the end of the day, Teodor was no different.
“I gave them something for the pain,” Malfatto said, sounding a touch eager in his attempt to soothe. “I’m not cruel.”
“I know,” Teodor said absently. He was sure Malfatto never intended to be cruel in the things he did. Teodor was rarely intentionally cruel himself. But Malfatto suffered from scientific curiosity. There was only one way to learn to torture a human being, and it ran in parallel with a desire to learn about the body, something a doctor would take great interest in. For that reason, Malfatto was capable of crossing lines Teodor never could.
It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.
Teodor turned his head to Malfatto, read the apprehension in his face. He struggled to explain himself. “It was the screaming,” he said. “It sounded like they were going mad.”
Malfatto’s brows knit together. “Of course they did. They were dying.”
“More than that,” Teodor said. In the corner of the room, he heard the echo of Nanette’s laughter. She was always with him now, seen and heard from just beyond his view. The waves had stopped, but only because he was too far beneath them to notice.
A heavy thud sounded downstairs. Malfatto sat up fully at the sound, his face swiveling to the door.
“I’m going to have to restrain him,” Malfatto murmured.
Teodor felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips. “He can be very stubborn.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Malfatto lifted himself off of both Teodor and the bed, his legs elegantly stretching to clear the space. Teodor shifted to watch Malfatto dress. He was as quick as a soldier when it came to putting on his uniform. It took him only a minute, maybe two if he bothered with the bracers, and Malfatto was gone, wrapped up behind his mask and sliding through the darkness. In this familiar space the dark glasses didn’t seem to hinder him and Malfatto didn’t so much as light a candle as he swept down the stairs.
Teodor listened for the click of the first door, then the second, and bit his lip as he heard the faint rumble of an injured man repeatedly swearing. He could make out the words if he chose, not because he could hear them, but because of the familiarity.
It had taken Malfatto a full day to wake Donato. Teodor had convinced Cesare to let Donato live, citing that killing him would only make Cesare appear a sore loser to the citizens of Roma. If Donato was able to be revived, he could publicly announce he had cheated his way into the title. A lie, obviously, but Teodor managed to navigate the fiery pit of Cesare’s pride well enough to get him to agree. By that time Donato had been unconscious and without aid for almost a day. After he was released to Malfatto, it had been another twelve hours until he woke.
Malfatto had warned Teodor that people sometimes came back strange, came back as not themselves, even when they were as strong as the captain. Teodor tried to imagine Donato waking up as something less than he was, rendered dumb and slow by his hand. With gritted teeth Teodor had brought Donato to Malfatto’s shop and denied the possible reality as long as he could.
Donato had woken in the late evening. Malfatto had been up to his beak in bandages, sitting on one of his cots in the room he reserved for patients as he rolled and examined his supplies, sorting the badly damaged to the salvageable. Teodor had been leaning against the wall by Donato’s bedside, hands in his pockets as he stared at Donato’s swollen face, willing him to move.
It turned out Donato’s mind was sound after all. Donato’s eyes had been open less than a few seconds before Malfatto was beside him, a list of questions spilling from behind the mask. Donato had answered Malfatto in a weak voice, spotted Teodor out of the corner of his eye, and immediately slipped a knife from the doctor’s belt. Teodor barely managed to avoid the blade that barreled his way, ducking just in time. Donato had screamed as Malfatto caught his wrists, not out of fury with the doctor, but out of fear.
Teodor had left the room. He had walked out of the shop and sat on the small porch in the back, watching the moonlight passing over Malfatto’s garden. Delicately, so as not to destroy a particularly valuable herb, he had vomited into a small patch of grass over and over again until his stomach seized from it. Teodor blamed his reaction on the smell of Donato’s bloodied and soiled body, infection already settling in.
An hour later Malfatto had come out to the porch. “I think it would be best to avoid the captain for awhile,” he had said mildly. “Until he’s more recovered.”
“You don’t think I’m very good for his health?” Teodor had said with a touch of dark humor.
Malfatto had brushed a hand through Teodor’s hair. “I didn’t say it was for his benefit.”
Teodor hadn’t gone into the room since. Six days had passed, the door to Donato’s room haunting him each time he walked by. Only Malfatto went in and out. Like a coward, Teodor kept to the upstairs room as much as possible, worried that if he spent time in the back room he would end up pressing his ear to that thin door, listening in. He wasn’t sure if Donato knew that he was here. He didn’t ask if Malfatto had said something to him. Malfatto didn’t talk about Donato much and Teodor didn’t ask.
Another muffled shout rose from beneath the floorboards. Teodor finally wrenched himself from the bed, shuffling about the room until he managed to light a few lanterns and find his clothes. Judging by the continued thumps and loud mutters, Teodor assumed that Donato was able to walk again, or at least had decided he could. A mobile Donato was a much bigger headache than an incapacitated one, and while Malfatto was a resourceful and capable man Teodor couldn’t shake his light concern. Donato had earned his deadly reputation.
Teodor came down the stairs on light feet, remembering to lock the door to the upstairs at the last second. Malfatto had lit a few candles and a lantern, dark yellow light spilling into the black. The door to Donato’s room stood open. Teodor took cover along the wall before daring to peek inside.
Malfatto and Donato stood in the center of the room, but instead of the standoff Teodor expected to encounter, Malfatto was helping Donato to walk. Donato had an arm around Malfatto’s neck for support, his shorter height forcing Malfatto to hunch. Malfatto braced an arm around Donato’s waist, his other hand holding onto the one Donato had slung about his neck.
Stitches tracked in long lines about Donato’s face and the back of his head, threading through his short hair. Donato wore only an unlaced shift that revealed a good deal of skin. The swollen welts he had seen were gone, Donato’s chest and legs marbled in purple and blue. Donato’s left knee had taken the worst of the damage. Teodor winced at the sight of it-the knee was twice the size of his right.
“You said I would have to strengthen it,” Donato accused, apparently too fixated on Malfatto and his knee to notice Teodor.
“After the swelling goes down,” Malfatto said patiently. He moved as if to turn them back to Donato’s cot, but Donato refused to budge.
“The swelling has gone down,” Donato insisted. “Cazzo! Lasciatemi andare!”
Malfatto did as asked. He slipped out from under Donato’s arm, leaving the captain wavering on his one good leg. Malfatto took a step to the side and looked at Donato expectantly. For his part, Donato looked slightly surprised, but then he realized Malfatto’s plan. Grinning at the challenge, Donato took a step forward, putting weight on his injured knee.
Teodor tensed. The patches of unbruised skin on Donato’s face and chest went white with shock and he swayed dangerously but did not fall. Malfatto didn’t move to help, simply waited for Donato to make his choice. Donato’s teeth flashed in the darkness and he snarled into it, then took another step.
As expected, Donato crumpled, a string of curses following him on the way down. Instinctively Teodor moved to help him, but stopped short of actually touching Donato once his feet had carried him across the room. He stood warily, the tips of his boots inches from Donato’s hands and bent head.
Donato’s breathing was labored. A soft sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead and his upper lip. When he looked up to Teodor his eyes were glassy with pain, but the anger they held was unmistakable.
“Teodor,” Donato spat. He curled in on himself, as if he could lessen the agony by making himself smaller. “I’m in pain,” he said to no one in particular. “Of course you would be here.”
Teodor flinched and Malfatto stepped in, syringe at the ready. Steadying Donato’s calf with one hand, he quickly inserted the needle into Donato’s injured knee. The resulting howl reverberated around the room and Donato’s eyes rolled to a pure white. Malfatto gingerly lifted Donato off the dingy floor with a grace that spoke of years of practice.
Incapacitated by either pain or whatever substance Malfatto had drugged him with, Donato didn’t fight back. He groaned against Malfatto’s shoulder, mumbling a promise for vengeance that was punctuated by sharp inhalations. Stunned and mute, Teodor watched Malfatto deposit the captain on his usual cot. Once Donato was on his back, Malfatto pushed his thin shift to the tops of his thighs and ran his leathered hands down the sides of Donato’s leg, prodding at his wounded knee.
“What did you...merda...” Donato said, voice garbled. True to form, Malfatto didn’t reply, only slipped a rolled up blanket underneath his leg to cushion it. A minute later Donato’s eyes slid shut, his labored breathing beginning to even out.
Teodor moved hesitantly towards the two men. “How is he?”
“He’ll be fine,” Malfatto replied, covering Donato carefully with a blanket.
Teodor’s hand hovered over Donato’s close-cropped hair, but the maze of stitches scared him off. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands beneath his elbows.
“Isn’t dangerous to let him even try to walk?” Teodor said, curious at Malfatto’s reasoning.
“He didn’t believe me when I said to stay in bed,” Malfatto said matter-of-factly. “Now he does.”
“He always did do things the hard way,” Teodor muttered. Malfatto’s mask tilted sideways in his familiar expression of confusion. Teodor gazed down at Donato’s sleeping face. “When will he wake?”
“In a few hours or so,” Malfatto replied, making his way to the door. Teodor followed him out to the back room. Malfatto stopped at his desk, thumbing through a sheaf of papers he had left there. A neat row of four glass jars on one of the operating tables caught Teodor’s eye. Inside the jars were pairs of feet and hands, all human, all submerged in a yellowing liquid.
“Where did you get these?” he asked, but Malfatto didn’t answer. Teodor gently picked up one of the jars and examined the five waxy fingers inside. Short, stubby, with slight calluses. The back of the hand tapered to where a narrow wrist once was.
“A woman?” he asked, turning to look at Malfatto.
“Very good,” Malfatto said, dropping his stack of papers on the desk. He came over to Teodor and took the jar from him. “There is one more bone in the human hand than there is in the foot,” Malfatto murmured, carefully setting the jar back in line. “I don’t think I’ll ever know why.”
Teodor shot Malfatto a puzzled look and then reached for his hat. He didn’t want to stay down here with Donato and Malfatto’s odd experiments, wanting instead to return to the bed upstairs. To his dismay, Malfatto caught him by the wrist before his fingers could reach the brim.
“I have to go out for a bit,” Malfatto said in a careful tone. Teodor heard only the ramifications behind the statement, knowing full well what Malfatto’s late-night romps entailed. Something cold crept down his spine.
Teodor considered asking Malfatto to stay. He considered the irony of one murderer trying to cage another. To his left, Nanette stood with her arms crossed, wet hair plastered to the sides of her grinning face.
“Be safe,” Teodor said, and let him go.
† † †
The morning bloomed bright through the stained-glass windows in Malfatto’s shop. The light did nothing to ease the soft headache starting to spread behind Teodor’s bleary eyes. He yawned in spite of the sun, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms high above his head. He cast a baleful eye to the papers in front of him on Malfatto’s desk. He had been up the rest of the night crafting a plan to begin infiltrating and eventually raiding the Rosa in Fiore, wanting to be prepared when he presented it to Cesare in the afternoon. It was disheartening to think of the effort he would have to put into a plan he never intended to execute, but he needed to be convincing.
Malfatto hadn’t returned yet. His absence fed Teodor’s already considerable paranoia but he steadfastly refused to pay it much mind. Malfatto kept strange hours. Teodor was more concerned by the task of caring for Donato alone.
When stress and loss had corroded the morale of his soldiers, Teodor had found that giving them tasks to perform had been more helpful than long stretches of inactivity. Soldiers were built to work, to do, and with that in mind Teodor forced himself up from the desk and set about making food for himself and Donato.
A little while later Teodor braved the door to the patient room, balancing bowls of porridge and a fruit plate in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other. He wasn’t sure if Malfatto would have allowed Donato coffee or been pleased about sharing his stores of pineapple but Teodor needed the peace offering.
The windowless room was dark and stuffy, the candles long burnt out. Teodor left the door wide open, the greens and blues of the stained-glass lighting his way as he moved inside. He carefully set down the food and drinks on an empty cot next to Donato and took a look at his friend. Donato was still on his back, his leg partially immobilized by Malfatto’s strategically placed blankets. In the odd light his skin looked even more mottled. His hands were fisted in the blanket and held close to his chest, making Teodor wonder if he was cold. Teodor reached out to touch Donato’s hand and jumped as the captain spoke.
“Don’t think you can placate me by bringing me coffee,” Donato rumbled, eyes still closed. “I am not going to do your silly tests or have any more of your needles.”
Teodor cleared his throat. Donato’s eyes snapped open.
“Where’s the doctor?” Donato asked after a long moment.
“Out,” Teodor said. His realized his hand was still hovering over Donato’s and snatched it back. Donato glared up at him. “I brought you breakfast,” he said lamely.
“I’m not hungry,” Donato said briskly, turning his head away.
“You have to eat,” Teodor argued. Donato ignored him, resolute. Teodor shifted from one foot to another, trying to decide what to do. For the first time he understood Malfatto’s silence with his patients and decided to act accordingly.
Without warning, Teodor hooked two hands underneath Donato’s arms. Donato made a noise of protest but was helpless to stop Teodor from dragging him into a sitting position. Teodor tried his best not to disturb Donato’s leg and was surprised at the strength it required to move Donato so carefully.
“You’re just as handsy as your doctor,” Donato snarled when Teodor managed to get him upright. Teodor ignored him and thrust the hot bowl of porridge under his nose, forcibly wrapping one of Donato’s hands around the bowl and spoon. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and stared at Donato pointedly.
Donato gave him a nasty smile and shoved a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, then went back to glaring at Teodor.
“I’ll make you eat that if I have to,” Teodor warned. Donato gave him a measured look, then reached for one of the steaming mugs on the cot next to him. Teodor thought about withholding the coffee but decided against it, instead handing Donato one of the cups. Donato took a long swallow, his face softening momentarily at the taste of the bitter brew, and finally began to quietly eat his food. Teodor leaned against a nearby wall and nursed his own mug.
“Why are you here?” Donato asked after awhile.
Teodor bit his lip absently, thinking on how to respond. He decided to go with honesty. “I wanted to make sure you were okay-”
Donato huffed. “Despite your best efforts.”
“-and to say I was sorry,” Teodor finished. Donato’s eyes flicked away, staring at the blank wall to his left. Teodor watched the tense line in Donato’s jaw. “I really am sorry,” he whispered. “I wish I could have done something different, but I didn’t--”
“You saved yourself, Teodor,” Donato said in a hollow voice, bravado vanishing. “I understand that. That’s what I would want for you.” Donato turned furious brown eyes on him. “But I never thought you would betray me, even after what you...”
Rico and Nanette hung in the air between them.
Donato’s voice wavered. “You were my family, Teodor.”
Teodor gripped his cup with white knuckles. This conversation was inevitable, but Donato’s opening attack was more brutal than he’d anticipated.
“I wanted to protect you,” Teodor whispered.
Donato’s eyes widened, looking both baffled and insulted. “Protect me?” he spat. “How could you-”
“Well what did you expect?” Teodor answered, surprised at the jolt of anger that went through him. “What did you think would happen, pulling that stunt?”
“You nearly killed me,” Donato replied with equal venom. The food in his lap was forgotten, Donato’s hand absently curled around the handle of his spoon as if it were a blade.
“No,” Teodor said, shaking his head. “No, they would have killed you. Either I watched you die or I took it into my own hands. Do you think I wanted to do that? Do you think I honestly wanted to hurt you?”
“I don’t know!” Donato yelled. Teodor reeled as if he’d been slapped. Donato’s eyes roamed the room, searching for something. Sweat was beginning to bead along his forehead. “I don’t know what to think about you anymore,” he said.
Teodor swallowed and looked away. His stomach roiled and he carefully set his cup aside although it wasn’t the source of his sickness.
“I could never do what you did,” Donato said after awhile.
“I would never want you to,” Teodor said in earnest. Without thinking about it, he reached out to Donato. It was a mistake. Donato flinched away from Teodor as if his hand were a hot iron, his arm flying up to block his touch. Teodor froze, horrified.
Donato wouldn’t look at him. Slowly he lowered his hand, using his blanket to mop up the bit of porridge that had spilled.
“Did you think you could just come in here and explain it away?” Donato asked, his voice husky and soft. He sounded completely unlike the man Teodor had come to know. “I don’t forgive you. I can’t even look at you without wanting to hurt you. I want so badly to hurt you, Teodor.”
“Donato,” Teodor breathed. His ribs felt like they were constricting his heart.
“All of my men are dead because of me,” Donato continued, heedless. “Even you, because you are not the friend I remember.”
Teodor was silent, unable to make excuses, to convince Donato that his intentions were good. Teodor didn’t even know if they were.
“You should have let them kill me,” Donato finished, voice breaking. He didn’t even sound like he was talking to Teodor anymore, but to himself. “I wish you had. I’ll never forgive you, Teodor. I want to forgive you, but I can’t and I hate you for it.”
Teodor felt heat welling in his face, concentrated just behind his eyes. He blinked rapidly, so stunned by his reaction that the blistering hurt inside his chest was almost an afterthought. He forced himself to stand, taking a deep breath as he did so.
“I’m not sorry I saved you,” Teodor said.
“You didn’t save me,” Donato said. “I didn’t need to be saved until you stepped in. Sometimes, Teodor, your decisions can’t be about if someone will live or die, but about the cost.”
The cost would have been losing you, Teodor wanted to say, but he knew that’s not what Donato needed to hear. What Donato needed was his old friend Teodor, who was quiet and serious and never talked about the things he did in the dark. A friend who Donato could make fun of and hang onto when he’d had too much ale, who laughed at his jokes and the outrageous lies he told about the hundreds of women he’d bedded. A friend who needed to be reminded to eat and never straightened his bunk but would always, always have Donato’s back in a fight.
“Malfatto should be back soon,” Teodor said, turning away from Donato. “If there’s anything else you need, I’ll be right outside.”
“I think I’ll be needing a new doctor,” Donato said softly. “I don’t wish to stay here, and it seems you never leave.”
Teodor halted mid-step. “Fine,” he said. “I leave for Castel Sant’Angelo in an hour. I’ll send someone to fetch you. You can even be gone before I come back.”
Teodor walked to the door, hoping Donato would say something. Tell him he would stay, that maybe everything wasn’t as ruined as he had claimed. But silence reigned, and Teodor couldn’t say he had expected otherwise. He left the door cracked as he walked out, and didn’t look back.
† † †
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