Isabella felt herself shaking from head to toe. He'd lost so much blood; they were saying he didn't have much time, and yet she couldn't accept it as she looked at him. It wouldn't happen. Not today of all days.

"Paulo?" She approached him as he lay on the workbench. His eyes were closed but she could see the staggered rise and fall of his chest. Gently, she reached out and took his hand. It was cold.

"Sweetheart," she fought to keep her voice from breaking. Squeezing his hand, she reached forward and lightly brushed his hair from his sweat-covered face.

Slowly, he turned his head towards her and opened his eyes. Despite the clear discomfort he felt, his expression relaxed into a smile when his gaze fell on her.

"Hello my love." His voice was rough.

"How're you feeling?" She asked shakily, returning his smile as best as she could. She knew it was a stupid question, but it felt like the right thing to ask.

"I've been better," he replied with a small smile. "But at least I have a beautiful view."

Isabella couldn't help but smile back weakly; even at his worst, Paulo found time to be funny and charming.

After a small moment, he seemed to sober; his face somewhat blank as he turned his gaze to the ceiling.

"Isabella..." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I...If I die-"

"Don't," Isabella's voice caught in her throat and she squeezed his hand, partially for comfort to herself. "You won't."

"I want you to find someone," Paulo continued, his gaze turning back to her. There was none of his usual humour in his expression. "I don't want you to be on your own."

A tear escaped down her cheek and Isabella quickly caught it with her free hand.

"Don't be silly," she tried to make her voice light, but it shook so terribly that her words were garbled. "I won't be alone, you'll be with me."

Tears pooled in Paulo's eyes.

"I love you, Isabella."

She could feel her heart breaking as she saw the fear in his eyes. She couldn't convince herself that he'd be alright anymore.

"I love you too," she replied with a painful sob. "I'll always love you."

She couldn't breathe. The pain was too much.

"Isabella?"

She jumped, blinking back the familiar sting of tears in her eyes before turning away from the window.

"Hm?" She did her best to sound aloof, though she wasn't sure why she bothered. Claudia noticed everything.

The Madame was stood by her desk, her expression concerned.

"Are you alright?" She asked somewhat carefully. "You seem distracted."

Isabella immediately gave her a false smile. "I'm fine, just thinking about my errands for the day."

She knew it was pointless to lie. Claudia's observant nature aside, it was obvious what was on her mind - it was always the same thing. But she hated talking about it, especially at the beginning of the day.

Claudia opened her mouth momentarily, her expression still worried, before closing it again. Stoically, she walked over to the window and looked out of it with a breezy sigh.

"I have so much to do today, I don't know how I'm going to get through it."

Isabella felt a strong surge of thankfulness for her friend's lack of prying, and for the change of subject.

"Perhaps we should trade, I have to go to the slums today and the guards are always patrolling."

"Ah, then I'll stop complaining." Claudia grinned. "Will I be seeing you later?"

Isabella couldn't help but return her smile. "Of course."

The Madame gave another light sigh, her happy expression wavering somewhat. "Mother will be pleased, she needs a distraction. She keeps hoping Ezio will drop by."

It was Isabella's turn to look sympathetic. Maria often hoped her son would visit, and he never did. Isabella herself had never met the Infamous Ezio, despite knowing his relatives for just over a year. He was always far too busy according to Claudia, and his schedule was ever-changing, but Isabella found herself somewhat annoyed at him on behalf of his mother who was not getting any younger or healthier as time went by.

"Perhaps he will soon," she replied dutifully, never wishing to add to her friend's exasperation.

Claudia shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, though the sadness was clear on her face. "Let's hope so."

Quickly, Isabella got up from her seat and wrapped her friend in a quick side-hug.

"I'll be back later," she said as brightly as possible. "We can spend the evening getting beaten by your Mother at cards as usual."

The Madame let out a little laugh, patting Isabella's arm fondly.

"Alright, try to have a good day."

It was with a slightly less miserable disposition that Isabella left the Rosa in Fiore and made her way slowly towards one of the poorer area of Rome. Claudia always seemed to cheer her up well enough to cope with the workings of every day life.

It was only until she let her mind wander that her mood would darken, and unfortunately, her mind wandered frequently when there was nobody around to distract her.

It was just so difficult; even after two years, she still missed him as if it were yesterday. It still hurt as if it were yesterday.

Everyone had told her that grief would pass. That time heals all wounds and that it would hurt less and less when she thought about it. But to Isabella it felt as though her grief was a constant companion.

It was often that she wondered whether she'd ever be truly happy again. Perhaps her old self had died too.

With much difficulty, she attempted to shift these dark thoughts out of her mind as she arrived at the slums of Rome. The people she helped had troubles enough of their own, and she didn't need to act as a dark cloud over them.

Isabella was a healer, and often travelled around the city to those who could not make their way to other doctors.

Her business came mostly from the poorer city folk given that she was a woman, and therefore assumed to be less competent than her male counterparts - something she resented strongly.

However, although her work was messy, stressful and not particularly lucrative, she enjoyed it all the same. It was rewarding, and a good distraction - and due to being continuously funded by her rather wealthy brother, money was not an objective for her.

She was lucky, she told herself, luckier than most; even if it did not always feel that way.

As expected, Isabella's day was a long and busy one - but despite a few difficult ailments, and the occasional lurking Borgia guard, she found herself distracted enough to somewhat enjoy the nice weather and the fruitful conversations she received from her patrons. It wasn't until she had finished her work for the day and began to make her way back to the Rosa in Fiore that she found her dark mood creeping once more. She sighed miserably to herself as she walked, far too familiar with the feeling of sadness to try and fight it. She was so tired of it all.

Needing a moment of composure as a small lump rose in her throat, she stopped at the bridge closest to the Rosa on her route. Clutching the barrier, she stared out at the rippling water below her and took a few deep, soothing breaths. She just needed to get past this moment of sadness, and then she would be able to greet Claudia without inducing questions or concern.

Without warning, she felt a strong force shove her to the side causing her to clumsily stumble. Quickly reaching out and grabbing hold of the bridge barrier she had been stood in front of, she righted herself and looked up indignantly - furious at whomever had pushed her so rudely.

Fear immediately stopped her in her tracks. Her attacker was a Borgia guard, and a particularly unfriendly looking one at that.

"I-" she started nervously, ready with an apology - though she had done nothing wrong. But the guard's face stopped her words, and she felt her fear mingle with a hint of concern.

His expression, though furious looking, was blank and unfocused. Isabella noted that his eyes were dilated, and a sheen of sweat made his face glisten in the sunshine. Clearly this man was ill.

"Are...are you alright sir?" She asked, unable to repress her medical concern. "You look unwell."

His black eyes flitted side to side for a moment, before focusing somewhat on Isabella as she spoke.

"You..." His speech was heavily slurred. "You're with them?"

"With who?" Isabella responded confused. Her fear began to creep back slowly with the assumption that this man was drunk.

"You're with them!" He suddenly shouted, making Isabella jump and several passers-by stop - though none of them made to interject.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about!" Isabella began to slowly step back from the guard, wondering vaguely if he would be able to chase her should she run.

And suddenly, his sword was drawn and he was pointing it at her, albeit somewhat shakily. The crowds around them erupted into screams of terror and all-too quickly, Isabella and the guard were seemingly alone on the bridge with nobody around to help her.

"I'll show you!" He shouted, and he raised the weapon high.

Isabella had no time to react, and suddenly she was being pushed again, this time away from the guard. Stumbling, she fell to the floor and felt a thrill of panic at the sound of metal clashing with metal. Looking up, she saw that there was now a man stood in front of the guard, and their swords were locked together.

Fear rooted her to the floor and she watched in some horror as her saviour struggled with the afflicted guard before finally shoving him roughly with the hilt of his sword.

With a clang of armour against the stone floor, the guard fell and immediately began to spasm unnaturally, his mouth full of a white foam.

"Oh my god," despite her fears, Isabella shifted quickly towards the man on the floor - her medical training urging her to help him. "What's wrong with him?!"

"He's been poisoned," the man who had rushed to her aid replied with a strangely cavalier tone. He bent down to Isabella's level, looking over the guard who was now turning lifeless before them. "You cannot help him."

"I..." Isabella felt a surge of guilt as she realised his words were true. Borgia guard or not, it was hard to watch a man die this way.

Her saviour reached out his hand to her as if to help her up.

"Are you alright?" He asked kindly, but still with that business-like tone. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Isabella replied, finally looking away from the guard to the man who had saved her. She was momentarily shocked by the other's appearance; he was hooded, and after a moment Isabella realised that he was wearing robes belonging to the Assassin order.

Suddenly his rushing to her aid and casual attitude made sense.

Taking his hand for support, she lifted herself from the ground and quickly brushed off any dirt from her dress.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, looking up at the other with a small grateful smile.

"Not at all," the assassin replied, a returning smile just visible under his hood.

Isabella turned to look at the guard once more, now thankful that the streets had almost completely cleared due to the commotion beforehand.

"Should we move him?" She said, unable to hide the pity in her tone.

"No need," the other replied casually. "The other guards will find him soon enough - it would be good for us to move along."

He gestured for her to walk but Isabella stayed where she was, dithering slightly.

"Are you sure we shouldn't...I don't know-"

"Trust me," the other replied calmly, if a little forcefully. "It would do us no good to stick around."

She gave a guilty sigh, knowing he was right. Unable to help herself from doing so, she bent down quickly and closed the dead man's eyes before walking in the direction the Assassin had gestured to.

He followed her, walking alongside.

"Who poisoned him, do you think?" Isabella asked, struggling to stop herself from glancing backwards.

"Possibly a courtesan," responded the assassin. He gave a brief pause before speaking again. "You needn't feel so guilty, he was going to attack you."

"I know, but still," Isabella responded automatically, wondering just how obvious her discomfort was that a complete stranger could tell what she was thinking. "It goes against the grain."

"I suppose it does for a healer," the assassin spoke plainly. It wasn't a question.

Isabella looked up at him with slight surprise.

"How did you-"

"Only an Assassin or a healer would react to death so casually," a small smile was visible underneath his hood. "And I am sure you are not an Assassin."

"Ah," Isabella gave a small laugh, surprising herself in the process. It wasn't often she laughed with strangers, let alone considering the circumstances. "And am I right in assuming that you are one?"

"A smart assumption, what gave it away?" His tone was playful now, and Isabella felt a strange feeling of endearment.

"The outfit, I've seen a few Assassins in my time."

"That's concerning," the other replied, his tone still playful but somewhat disconcerted. "Assassins are supposed to be elusive."

"Oh, it's only because I spend so much time at the Rosa in Fiore." Isabella replied. When the man's head turned to her with a barely visible look of confusion, she continued somewhat embarrassedly.

"To see Claudia! Not for anything...else."

"You know Claudia?" The man's tone was suddenly much brighter and he thankfully seemed to miss Isabella's flustered tone. "How is she?"

"Busy," Isabella replied honestly, knowing that she could trust an Assassin with the truth. "She's terribly overworked with the bordello and taking care of Assassin affairs, not to mention her mother is sick so that does not help things."

"She is?" The Assassin stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Isabella walked a few paces ahead before realising. "What's wrong with her?"

"I..." Isabella felt suddenly concerned; why was he so concerned for Maria? Stepping a little closer to the man who was still rooted to the spot, she attempted to discreetly get a look at his face under the hood. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were again?"

"I didn't," he replied somewhat heatedly, all of his previous good-nature gone. "What did you mean when you said Maria Auditore was sick?"

"She's..." Isabella hesitated, not wanting to share such personal information but unsure of how to make this man drop the subject - in any case he didn't seem like a stranger to the Auditore family. "She's simply getting older. Her mind is going; a few other healers and myself have tried to treat her as best we can but there's not much to be done."

The Assassin swore under his breath and began to walk again, his pace somewhat faster. Isabella began to follow, but soon fell behind him as he practically ran in the direction of the Rosa in Fiore.

And suddenly she knew who he was; it was all-too clear now seeing his reaction to such news. Unless she was very much mistaken, he was Ezio Auditore, infamous Assassin and brother to Claudia.

And she had just informed him rather offhandedly that his mother was sick and there was nothing to be done for her.

Speeding up to catch up with him, Isabella felt somewhat sick. This day seemed to be getting worse and worse.