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Venice, Thursday, 1487

The stress seems to be overcoming me these days. Crazies all around and all eyes are fixed on me, I feel. My face looks a bit like my clothing, moth-eaten with tears and slashes. I look worse for wear, as the saying goes. There are holes in my robes. Some holes in places where if the bullets had moved half an inch more, they would have killed me, or at the very least severely wounded me. The worst case, cripple me so badly I could not assassinate even an ant. I would have to be killed for being relatively useless in this day and age. Rafiqs are gone. Not just that, but I know the Brotherhood, and being a civilian with that knowledge would be more than dangerous.

At least the eyes are not fixed on my Sparrow or those who have cared for him these past three months. Nico and Maria are such civilians that could be endangered by our very presence, though they have passed Skandar off well as a relative of the Romani boy with whom they have a relationship of a sort.

That, at least, is what they tell the other customers who question his presence. He is Romani; he was injured by the guard of one of the city noblemen for not getting out of his way quickly enough. It is believable, a story many can attest to and feel sympathy for, even if they leer at the two of them now, Luca and Skandar. Luca is a shrewd enough boy. He might make a good Assassin, if not a good leader, one day. I might see about asking him to join us should the opportunity be apt.

Jameel lifted his head from his writing, marking the page with a ribbon and looking at Amir, who'd placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Go and rest, Uncle," said the boy. "It's my turn to watch over Brother. If you're needed, we'll find a way to call you." The Red Owl nodded and dried the ink on the page before shutting the book and stowing it away with his inkwell and quills in a small pack. The Assassins had taken to rotating between the safe houses--one to Antonio's, one to Paula's, one to Bartolomeo, their newest ally's place, and one to Nico and Maria's to stay with Lex--during this latest month of the Sparrow's convalescence.

Moving to the back room where Lex slept, the Red Owl settled a hand on his head, stroking it before kissing his cheek and departing to Paula's to a proper bed and proper sleep. Not that the apothecary couple hadn't provided such accommodations, but that his paranoia had prevented him from sleeping in naught but a chair when in the shop, the awful crick in his neck evidence of such madness. At least with the brothel madame and her girls he could be assured he was safe. None trifled with women who knew Ezio Auditore so personally. Besides, he suspected the Madame Paula wore her hidden blade tucked somewhere up her skirts in case of trouble.

The icy eyes glanced skyward as he moved into the narrow street that led to the door of the brothel. The enemy doesn't know where he sleeps. Let it stay this way.





Lex sighed as he opened his eyes, going cross-eyed as he looked at the pudgy little hand grasping his nose. Another fist was in his hair. Nadya giggled, squealing and tugging at his head before patting a little too hard on his cheek.

"That hurts, y'know." She grinned a grin as only babies could and babbled at him merrily. "Why do babies always need to grip things? I know you do that as part of your development, but why my face and my hair?" Nadya leaned down and squashed his head with her belly. "Mmrrph..."

"Nadya, what are you doing, Schatzile? Suffocating our poor guest?" asked Maria as she stood with her arms folded in the doorway. The little girl squealed and crawled toward her, hugging her around the neck. Lex sat up on his elbows and shook his hair from his eyes. "G'morsche, Spaetzlein."

"Tag. How long was I asleep?"

"It's only been a few hours after morning. You haven't missed anything exciting, believe me, unless you count the poor young guard who asked for a tincture that might repel women."

"Was it the same guy who came in for performance enhancement?"

"Would you believe it if I said yes?"

"Give me a minute to wrap my mind around why he'd want both of those and I might." The Sparrow slid off his seat on the tabletop and made his way slowly toward the front of the shop as Maria began to feed her little one. Lex took a seat, glancing over curiously for a moment before looking away, a light flush on his face. The woman chuckled.

"You're still not used to this?"

"Call it my homeland's sensibilities."

"Women do not feed their infants in your homeland?"

"They actually get into fights about how they're supposed to feed their infants, actually." The two looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh, yes, I can see that. Arguing over which breast is better for the little ones to suck from, like arguing over which side of the egg one is supposed to crack."

"Pretty much." Lex looked up as Nico entered the room, smiling at her wife and opening the front window of the shop. The disguised woman nodded to the Sparrow, who nodded in return. After the shock of the first sighting and a good few smacks upside the head from Maria with a small towel for not understand a locked door's purpose when he saw one, Lex had gotten slowly used to the idea that Nico wasn't exactly an exclusively male name.

The regulars flooded the street in front of the building along with the people they'd dragged with them to beat the early morning rush hour that would come after the attending of Mass. Some things never change, Lex thought, mind turning back to a time in the future when he had happened to enter a Wal-mart on a Sunday afternoon. He never had managed to get hold of that coffee can he wanted.

"Cheep, cheep, cheep!" came from the crowd as Amir hopped through the front window with loaf of bread under his arm.

"Does this one have olives in it too?" Lex muttered.

"No, this one has garlic." The Coal Tit grinned and hugged his brother tightly, nuzzling into his neck. "Are you better now, ahki?"

"Three more months, Amiri."

"Oh...Well, are you better noooow, ahki?" The impish grin made the time traveler groan and roll his eyes.

"Where's Desmond? I thought he was coming by today." The two moved to the stairs as Nico went to the window to deal with the customers, Maria sitting at the table behind him. The Sparrow went over and began to grind the herbs for the order as he saw the woman getting up to do so. Flashing him a smile, she returned to her babe.

"He's around back."

"Oh, I didn't know he had a date with Ms. Haysley."

"One must never keep a haystack waiting." Amir puffed up his chest.

"Yes, or else the rot will be at it," Nico called over her shoulder. The Spaniard looked up as someone called in the crowd, "Make way for Juan Borgia da Roma!" A man stepped up to the window clad in a black tunic, the hilt of a rapier just peeking over the edge of the window. He was tall, rather pale skinned for someone who was supposed to be a commander of an army, but then again, the Assassins reminded themselves, he was a noble. His close-cropped brown hair was met by a high forehead that nearly overshadowed thin, almost penciled-on eyebrows and squinting dark eyes, matched only by his hawkish nose.

"Signore Borgia," Nico greeted stiffly.

"Messere farmacista," the man responded. "I trust your pretty wife is still as beautiful as in these images?" He pressed a sheet of parchment to the window. The Assassins didn't catch a glimpse of it before the apothecary had picked it up and crumpled it in her fist. "Perhaps your little wife could pose for me as well in private? I've been told I'm quite the artist."

"Cuando cerdos vuelven de mi culo, mierda pequeña del Papa."

"Aha, now, now, no need for such language, messere." The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Although, now that you've insulted my father, I may have to do something to you for it."

"Have you ever been to a comic convention?" The two looked up as Lex stood and asked again, "Have you ever been to a comic convention? No? Well, there is one rule everyone knows by heart, a certain unwritten number one. Never piss off the fans." The Sparrow strode forward. "You see, fans are a very dangerous thing, signore. They're like tinder soaked in oil and coated in gunpowder. One spark and poof." He hopped out the window Amir had come through, forcing the man to step back. "Explosion. Fire. Pain. Lots of it. Usually the loss of a limb or two. Sometimes the loss of life. Really quite distressing."

"You have a Turk now to do the fighting for you?" Juan hissed, though with each word he lost ground.

"Oho, Nico'd gladly kick your a** himself, I'm sure, and I'm only a guest, but I'll gladly kick your smart a** for free." Lex cracked his knuckles and grinned, pointing at Juan. "I hereby challenge you to a children's card game!" The man stared at him. Lex looked off to one side before saying, "Wait, that's the wrong show." He looked back at Juan. "I challenge you to a duel. That's what I meant to say. A duel then!"

"A duel. Fine. We'll settle this the way our ancestors have always done--"

"You're going to exploit me economically? Or do you mean our religious ancestors? I don't think Spain even knows about Turkey until--"

"In a week's time!" The man turned and strode off.

"My God, Brother, that was stupid," was all that came from inside the shop, unmistakably from Amir.

The crowd dispersed as Lex returned to the apothecary, whereupon he was promptly slammed against the wall by Nico.

"Have you lost your Goddamned mind?" The Spaniard shook him. "What the hell was that?"

"Inviting that guy to have his face smashed?"

"Fool! Do you even know how to fight in a duel?"

"Nope. But I figure I know the rules pretty well."

"Oh, do you? And what are they?"

Lex drew his sword, forcing Nico to back away as he gestured to the tip. "Pointy end goes into the other man." He sheathed the sword once more and pocketed his hands, looking at the apothecary.

"Madre de dios..." The woman pressed her hands to her face, the crumpled parchment still in one of them. Sighing, she lifted her head. "Fine. Fine. I'll teach you how to fight with one of those." The Sparrow gave her a mock glare, pursing his lips, to which she responded, "Tonto, you're holding it wrong."

"Where's Kemosabe then if I'm Tonto?" The room was silent for a good several minutes. Amir was the one to break it, asking, "What did the man give you?" The Spaniard sighed before spreading the parchment on the table, smoothing it out as well as she could.

On it was a sketch of Maria, done in coal. She was nude, strapped to a waterwheel, the Metal Lion fondling one of her breasts, what looked to be a brand in his free hand. The Assassins looked at one another, then Maria. The woman looked away before muttering, "I never wished to remember that time."

"Neither of us did, amor," Nico responded. The Assassins continued to look between their hosts. Maria lowered Nadya from her breast and straightened her blouse before lifting up her dress's skirts. On her hip was a black mark, the same head as on the brand. She lowered her skirts again and sighed, taking a long breath as Nico put her arms around her neck from behind, nuzzling into her hair.

"We were captured by the Lion's men," whispered the German woman. "In Florence, which had been our home before Venice. A short time after Giovanni Auditore and his sons' execution. The Lion wanted information on the Assassins. We would not do that."

"He tortured us," Nico whispered, staring at the floor. A dark chuckle escaped her lips. "They discovered I was a woman quickly enough as well. Had their fun with us." She glanced at the two. "Never wondered about my leg? One of the bastards broke it in two places, one of those men of his. Cubs, don't you call them?" She shook. "Lo siento, amor. Si yo hubiera sido más fuerte--"

"Shhh."

"Pero--" Maria pressed a finger to the trembling woman's lips, taking her by the shoulders and lowering her down to her lap where she held her in her arms. The time traveler glanced at his little brother, feeling they were intruding on some private moment as the apothecary laid her head on her wife's breast and let out a sob and said in thickly accented German, "Ich haette dich beschuetzt. Ich haette dich beschuetzt, Maria. Tut mir leid. Tut mir leid mit--mit ganzem Herz." She fell back into Spanish. "Si--" Maria took her face between her hands and shook her once, enough to jar the babbling to a halt.

"Genug. Genug, mein kleiner Ehemann." Italian returned to the conversation. "You protected me as well as you could and what did that earn you? A permanent limp and a beating. You were barely conscious. There was nothing else you could have done. It was my turn to protect you." A hand smoothed back the Spaniard's dark hair from her sweat-soaked brow. "And anyway, the Lion gave us an unexpected gift in return for his pains on us, didn't he?" A slow nod, a rapid up and down motion, twice. "Yes, Nadya is ours thanks to that thing that calls itself a large cat." The two jumped at being addressed directly by the healer woman.

For a moment, both weren't sure if she was glaring at them or not, the fierce savagery of the look on her face making their knees turn to water with a little jelly floating on top that used to be their muscles.

"The cat in the tin can and our past with him notwithstanding, you still managed to piss off Juan Borgia today," said Nico, having regained control of yourself. She stood. "Let's get started." She looked down as Amir put his arms around her waist, head against her chest.

"Mama Nico can have the day off. Mama Maria needs hugs," said the boy, stepping back. "I can teach my brother for a few hours today before you take it up again." The woman smiled.

"Grazie, uccellino." The woman took her wife's hand between her own, looking toward the baby that rested in her basket. Nadya smiled and looked around at the assembled people, who were now looking at her in some form or fashion. She reached out toward Lex and Amir. The Coal Tit let her grasp one of her fingers in a chubby fist. Lex, as he watched, imagine the little face beneath the Lion's mask. He couldn't. That thing beneath the mask couldn't father such a baby that would happily tug on his hair and hugs his face, could it?

Well, that's the question, isn't it? Nature versus nurture. What effect our environment has on what genes, what's turned on and what's turned off... She's just a baby now. I don't know what she'll be like in a few years' time. He reached out slowly, placing his hand against her cheek, rubbing her soft head with his thumb.

"If I ever have a baby, I hope they're like you and likes hugging faces," he murmured, blinking as he found tears prickling at his eyes.

"Brother, you're a boy. You can't have babies." The Coal Tit grasped his hand and led him toward the back of the building.

"You know what I mean, my prince. You yourself were adopted several times now. Or at least adopted yourself some parents."

"I never thought you to want children yourself, ahk. Are you going to adopt me next?"

"With you calling me brother, that'd be weird. Like that TV trope: promoted to parents or something. Wait, are you jealous of Nadya or why do you sound so pissed off?"

"Yes. Why don't you pet me like that?" A grunt was heard as Amir kicked his way to through the haystack behind the backdoor, Desmond glowering at him before going back to sleep.

"Why don't you hug my face like that?" Lex countered, only to fall back against the narrow alleyway's nearest wall as Amir leaped up and clung to him, his arms around his head, legs hooked around his torso, locked against his back. The Coal Tit bent his head and kissed the Sparrow's dark hair, making a face as he smelled the grease in it. "Amir, you're heavy," was the muffled noise against his belly.

"That's why I don't do this often." Another muttered response, so low he could barely make it out. When he'd deciphered the words as well as he could, he looked at the dark head of hair again and stated, "I could always do that, you know. I was an acrobat once. It's not that hard to get my hips up to your face and move them back and forth." A heavy sigh sounded against his stomach, so that even Desmond looked up at it. "I'm joking, Brother. I'd never do that to you without you wanting it." He wasn't certain, but he thought he felt something wet against his shirt.

Sliding down, he looked at the teary-eyed Sparrow, legs now around his waist, arms about his neck. Lex looked back at him, dull eyed but for the tears standing in them, a shuddering breath released from his mouth. Amir pressed his lips to his brow gently before settling his forehead against where his lips had been, wiping his eyes with equal care with his sleeve.

"Come." He dropped to the ground, twining their fingers together. "Let's get to the roof to train. It'll make you feel better." Lex looked at him, his dubiousness at that statement smeared across his face as if by one of Leonardo's brushstrokes. "You will. You will feel better. Even the climb will do some good."

"My arms don't want to go up right now." Amir frowned, giving a little cheep. He gnawed his lip for a moment--Lex wondered where he'd picked that habit up from, not feeling his own teeth on his lip--before gathering his arms around his neck and telling him to hang on. Lex sighed and settled his head into the back of the Coal Tit's neck, eyes gazing listlessly at the black hair, the white streak brushing his nose as his legs came up around his little brother's body, the two moving up to the roof.



Jameel returned on the fourth before the duel's appointed time and spent most of it watching the Coal Tit and apothecary teach the Sparrow. He joined in the teaching after a bit of goading, leading the Sparrow around the rooftop until he cornered. Lex looked at the corner his heels stood on either side of and thought only, Oh, for the love of God, you've gotta be kidding me.

"Check." The Sparrow jerked his head up, the Red Owl's arm around his shoulders. "I believe I've won our little physical chess game." Jameel relaxed as Lex's arms reached up, settling at his neck. He blinked as he felt the thin head of a throwing knife against his throat, the cold metal sending goosebumps along his skin as it rested above the pulsing vein there.

"Checkmate."

"Sly little bird." The man pressed the flat of his hidden blade against the back of the smaller man's neck, fingers combing through his hair. "But I left myself open, didn't I?"

"Guess I did too."

"I've got the height on you, habibi."

"And all I need to do is twitch my fingers, so what's it going to be? Do you yield or not?" Brows raised at the sharpness of his tone before Jameel stepped back, bowing his head. Lex sheathed his sword and throwing knife, walking back into the shop. Jameel followed, catching up to him and taking a hold of his shoulders. The younger man whirled about, fear stamped on his face as he slapped the taller man's hand away. The Red Owl flinched, stung. The two stared at each other. Lex looked away first, running a hand through his hair and sighing, biting his lip. A calloused thumb brushed his lower lip, freeing it from beneath his teeth as Jameel knelt to his level.

The Sparrow looked into the familiar blue eyes, the eyes that questioned him silently, the taller man's features describing his worry better than words could. Asking a silent, "What's wrong?" He sighed and shook his head, answering the question with his own wordless, "Nothing." He drew away from his lover's arms and went to the small room off the back room where he had been operated on, a little bedroom for recuperating patients that had become his guest room of sorts.

There he curled up on the bed, staring into space until he felt a weight on the opposite end of the bed near his legs.

"Ja--" he began, then stopped. It was Nadya. The little girl smiled her babyish smile and giggled, crawling over the covers to him. "Hi, Nadya." He turned onto his back as the baby made her way to him and tried to climb onto his side, holding her steady with his hands. She looked at him before crawling onto his chest and lying on her belly, grasping his nose, then his cheek. A smile crept onto his face as his cheek was tugged, if only to help pull his skin out of her fist.

Proud of herself, or so she looked, Nadya yawned and settled down to sleep on him. Lex leaned his head back onto the straw-filled pillow, wincing as a stray piece poked through the fabric and into his scalp, and shut his eyes for a little sleep.

Several hours later, Lex floundered upon the bed until he was able to bolt upright, sucking in a sharp breath. Cold sweat clutched the sheets tight to his body. He looked around, panic rising at the unfamiliarity of the room. He then remembered where he was and hung his head, breathing hard. He blinked a few times, a measure of confusion mixing in with the fear.

Why was he under the covers? Where was Nadya? Why was there an arm around him? Who'd turned out the lights?

The Sparrow found several of the answers once his eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room, though this came with the sudden onset of a splitting migraine. He looked toward the window. Night. He looked down. Jameel's arm rested across his middle, his other arm pinned beneath his body so that Lex wondered if he shouldn't move it for the man, who might find it asleep in the morning, head resting beside where his had been on the pillow.

"Alessio?" Lex looked up at the soft voice, eyes screaming in pain as he looked at Maria with her candle. He covered his eyes, curling up. "I heard you scream. Do your eyes hurt?" She blew out the candle and took his arm. Lex slipped from beneath Jameel's arm and stood with the apothecary wife's help, rubbing his eyes until they cleared. Blinking a few times, he let himself be led to the table and sat down. "Open your eyes. Let me look at them."

Dragging them open for her to examine, the woman gasped and leaned back slightly.

"What? What's wrong with them? Did I burst a blood vessel or something?" He leaned his head down and covered his eyes once more, rubbing his temples with thumb and forefinger. "Ahhh...Goddammit, where's the Vi-sine for excruciating migraines nestled behind your eyeballs? Got an Excedrin? Tylenol? Aspirin? Willow bark?"

The Sparrow whimpered as his head was lifted, his eyes opened once more by gingerly prying hands. The woman looked at the glowing, golden irses of the young man's eyes with a mixture of fear and astonishment. "Anything, Maria?" he whispered. "It hurts... My God, it hurts..."

The woman nodded and went to the nearest shelf, taking down some of the powder and setting some water to boil as the Sparrow returned his head to his arms, leaning on the table. A hand ran over his head as they waited, rubbing soothing circles against his temples and down his neck and shoulders.

"What were you screaming for, Spaetzlein?"

"A nightmare."

"Is it the sort of nightmare I'm thinking of?" No response. Maria leaned down, kissing his cheek. The Sparrow gazed at the grains of wood in the table to keep his mind blank, an attempt to ease the pain. Maybe if he kept his mind blank, if he didn't think, he wouldn't hurt so much. "Alessio...," she paused, then continued, "have you told anyone?" Lex stiffened. Maria rubbed his cheek gently. The woman stood and left the table, returning with a mug of hot brew. The Sparrow downed it in silence, burning his tongue in the process to be able to lay his head down again. "We have each other, little one. My little wife and I. This is one of the ways I have found to cope with what happened with us. We give each other strength. It was a while longer, believe me, before I could even think of being touched again. Much less before I found pleasure in it. And if you feel you cannot tell your man yet, perhaps you might tell a friend whom you trust deeply. Your haystack loving comrade, or your younger brother."

The young man's silence persisted until, "Maria? Can I have a hug?" The woman smiled softly and nodded as he lifted his head, resting it upon her chest as she drew him into her arms. His headache faded as sleep claimed him once more, eyes returning to their normal hue.



Jameel awoke to the pattering of rain against the shutters. He looked over at the Sparrow. Lex lay on his back, head tilted against his shoulder. The Red Owl leaned over and kissed his forehead before sitting up. Standing, he stripped off his robes and went to a small basin left in the room, giving himself a quick wash before returning his clothes to his body. A little cleaner, he leaned against the wall and watched the sleeper for a moment. Bending down, he kissed his lips before moving out silently into the rain, shutting the window behind him to make his rounds.

As he moved through the rain, he stopped and pressed his back to the nearest wall, rain droplets falling from the beak of his hood. The Red Owl had a bad feeling growing inside. Perhaps it was the niggling sense of paranoia kicking it, but he felt something sinister lurked on the rooftops around him. Whether intuition, hunch, or something more, he crouched lower and made his way to a chimney stack, back to one of the canals. He saw it then, a pair of shadows darting through the rain as if flying. When they stilled, he frowned, making out the shapes of a pair of vultures of all things. Vultures in Venice?

Could it be them?

Tracking the shapes, he focused, felt the burning in his eyes. The cityscape lightened slightly, the rain still a thick screen as he made his way over the wet tiles toward the shades.

Inshallah, they won't prove hostile. I need to strike a bargain with them.

He finally caught up, nearly running into them as the shadows abruptly turned, a set of daggers pointed at his throat. For a moment, the only sound was the rain around them. He was glad of it, for it drowned out the gulp he made that was surely audible otherwise. They had turned so quickly their clothing lagged behind them, finally catching up with a wet slap against their bodies. They wore masks, similar to the Ravenwatch archers, but not crow-shaped. The beaks were less prominent, and no feathers adorned their heads. They truly looked like vultures.

"Pr-Privet," he whispered in halting Russian, beginning his attempt to converse with them, though the rain hindered him somewhat. The Vultures held up their hands, both the right, their cloaks dangling from them like sopping feathers on a wet wing.

"So you wish to hire us, hm?" said the one on the left.

"How much are you paying?" asked the one on the right.

Jameel was frozen, unable to decide which of the identical pair to answer first. He had heard that these twins had the ability to read each other's minds. Maybe it was true. Nonsense, he snapped at himself. They may have trained together to be able to mimic mind reading. A trick, that's all... It's only a trick. He steeled his rattled nerves and took a risk, stood to his full height.

"I will pay everything I have." The one on the right cocked his head and circled Jameel, eyeing him from every angle before coming back to his starting point. He put his dagger away, as did his brother.

"I see. You're a part of that Order. Forget the fee. We will offer our services for free."

"You must be the Crimson Owl we heard rumors of in Moscow," said the other, adding almost giddily in a half-echo of his brother, "Forget the payment! When do we start?"

"As soon as possible." He described the targets and the mission he wished to accomplish once more. When he finished, the two said in one voice, "Will do." Both of them darted down the rooftop and disappeared over the edge.

Well, that turned out better than I expected, Jameel thought, walking back to the apothecary. I thought they were going to kill me in my sleep one day. Descending to the street, he slipped back in through the window, a puddle quickly forming around his boots. He was soaked to the skin, but elated. He had struck a deal with two men who happened to be extremely good at the killing craft.

Jameel slipped off his boots and padded to the basin, wringing his clothing out into it.

"Still raining?" The Red Owl almost bashed his head on the ceiling at the Sparrow's words. Taking a moment to calm himself, he shed the rest of his clothing and wrung it out as well, spreading it on the floor to dry. His heart almost came to a dead stop again as he saw the dim glow coming from Lex's eyes. How...? Is he cursed to live too long as well? Oh, little bird...

"Sneaky Sparrow. I've taught you too well." The man climbed onto the bed, folding the smaller form in his arms and holding him to his chest, checking each word so that it betrayed none of the pain he felt. "You've frightened me twice in one sitting. You're getting better, Skandar."

"It's been a long time since anybody's called me that." Jameel opened his mouth, but Lex continued, "Nah, it's fine. I like it when you say it. Reminds me of the good old days. So, what were you doing? Taking a shower?"

"I was getting us some help. Mercenaries after a fashion. Mercenaries for our cause."

"Doesn't this make us like the Templars?"

"No. Ours are better, though I doubt you've heard of the Vulture Twins. They're the best hired mercenaries in Europe."

"Oh, what royals did they murder?" Lex turned so his back was to Jameel. The man frowned, sitting up. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"We should let the others know about our own hired help."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate your stunning vistas."

"I thought you would be happy about this. Do you know what stroke of luck this is? The more Assassins, the better, Skandar. Synchronized Assassins are a bonus. They're said to do everything in an orderly fashion, without hesitation. No wavering, no second thoughts. They have no mercy, even for people who happen to be in their way. This will put us on an even keel."

"Do not shed the blood of the innocent." The words hit him like a sucker punch to the face.

"What would you have me do then?" he growled, regretting it as he saw Lex flinch. Slowly, he turned to face him, sitting up and looking him in the face.

"Don't stoop to their level. I'm not above begging, borrowing, stealing, and damn near blackmailing for every scrap of help, information, or manpower we can get our hands on, but we can't abandon our Creed. We pickpocket, we eavesdrop, and we give the third degree if necessary, but we've got scruples. It's that thin line between vigilante and terrorist: you walk it and you do your damnedest not to fall off. Now can we talk about this later? It's, like, two in the ******** morning and this pillow sucks. I don't know how Desmond can stand to sleep in hay. So pokey..."

"Use me as your pillow if you want something softer. Otherwise, it's the straw or your robes." Lex bit his lip again, hard enough to draw a little blood, as he looked away. "It's your choice, Lex." Jameel laid down on his back, getting himself comfortable as he could with the heavy silence hanging between them. He looked down as the Sparrow placed an arm, fingers trembling, across his middle, head on his shoulder.

His quick breathing soon drifted into the even pace of sleep. He felt his own chest rise and fall with the time Lex set before his own eyes shut.