Assassin's Creed: Chronos (Ezio x OC)

51 - Bless the Broken Road

March 20, 1481

Venice, Italy

Things hurt.

That was the first thing Catherine was aware of when consciousness returned to her. Her entire body ached, and it felt like a huge weight was on her—at least an entire planet. Her lungs ached when she tried to suck in air, and the light, despite being just through the slits of a curtain, agitated her eyes. She closed them and let out a soft groan, and noted she sounded a little hoarse. Not much, but enough. Weakly, she lifted her arm and brought it to her face. It was a labored effort, but not as much as she had thought it would be. She hoped that meant her fatigue was only temporary and she would be able to sit up soon enough.

She was starving, too, she realized. And thirsty. How long had she been out? Hours? Maybe. It had to be midday now. Or had it been days? Weeks? She felt like she'd been out for that long. God, what had happened? It was hard to think back, but the memory was there; she just had to scrounge through it a bit more.

There.

Flashes of images—mostly of the lights. They had been everywhere and she'd cut so many. Occasionally the world went back to normal and she recalled the burning agony that had consumed her. Her memory was spotty, though, and it occurred to her that it was possibly because she hadn't been conscious the whole time. She certainly didn't remember going to all the different spots her mind brought back to her. She also didn't remember how many men she had killed. It was more than one—at least five, but she had a feeling it was far more. The notion made her stomach churn unhappily and she regretted what she had done. Yet, at the same time, she knew it was what she had to do. It had been the only way to save everyone.

They had been saved—right?

Catherine made to push herself up, but the struggle was immense and she fell back down the first time. She hissed as she paused, but then lifted her arms back to her side. They shook as she pushed, eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit, but slowly she eased up from the mattress. She let out a deep sigh as she leaned back against the headboard and let her head fall on it. She took in slow breaths, steeling herself, and then properly opened her eyes. She had to blink a little to get used to the dim light, and then looked around.

She didn't recognize the room. It certainly wasn't the one back in the thieves' Den, nor was it Ezio's. It wasn't the one in Fontina's place, and she didn't think it was from the Den at all. The material of the bed alone was too lavish in comparison, and the walls were lined with book shelves and paintings—ones that were somewhat familiar. Where was she? Better yet, who had brought her here? Pressing through her memories she drew up the one right as she had lost consciousness, and recalled a figure of light. They had called out to her, she knew, and she thought they had looked familiar, but the light made it impossible to tell. They must have known her, though, and been a friend—how else was she alive? How else would she be in a nice bed, and in new clothes at that? How else could she not be dead?

The redhead glanced to her nightstand, and it was then a flicker of recognition came over her. She knew the tiny little model that was standing there—a miniature carved from wood by her favorite artist. It was one of Leonardo's little "fun" sculptures; this one a small dog. She managed to get it into her hands and touch at it, taking in what it meant—that she was in Leonardo's home. His workshop. This was most likely the guest room. So did that mean her friend was the one who found her? God that must have been a fright for him. No doubt he was worried sick. Did anyone else even know where she was? Did the Thieves? Did Ezio? She needed to get up and tell them.

"Or not," she grunted as she tried to move, but found it took way too much effort. In fact, it practically exhausted her and she had to lean back against the headboard after she collapsed. Well, this was going to be troublesome, but at least her throat and lungs didn't hurt when she spoke. Her head shot up when she heard the door open, though—she winced slightly as the quick motion made her dizzy—and couldn't help smiling when a familiar face appeared.