Everybody assumed he had been through some shit but honestly nobody could even imagine what it had been like for him. Every possible story they created inside their head might sound utterly horrible, still they were nothing compared to the reality. Not only the physical pain, torture, the wounds, the starving, the living in the dark, the hardship he had been endured. His psyche was more rotten than before, got formed in a way not everyone in the Shadowhunter world would like. His whole being broken into pieces he had collected dearly and put back together with effort. Somehow you could still see the cracks, some better mended than others, some not recognizable with the bare eye but a brush over it revealed its roughness and misshape. He had been drilled for different kind of orders and scenarios, following every barked order he received. Reggie had seen so much potential in him and had focused on eliminating targets in his training, assassination. Naturally, he had had to run through other stages before but ultimately landed there. Feeling every slight mistake, everything his targets would experience too. Knowing the sensation of being aimed at, being on someones list, being tortured in all possible ways. Near death wasn’t a stranger to him but he always made sure its visits were fruitless.

But what had changed her? Clearly, she had hinted that it had been because of him. Always the quirky and cheeky girl, she had had many problems following the rules. Seriousness didn’t suit her, in her opinion, so she hadn’t put much effort into her training. Recalling those information even from his memory when he had listened to his grandmother’s updates and chats. However, his disappearance had resulted into changing her attitude towards training and generally everything. The look she had on her face right now was a silent witness of that. Had he ever seen her eyes sparking that coldly? Her expression that stern? Getting a closer look by walking towards the espresso machine, he continued his preparations whilst talking to her. It sounded like an educational class, a lecture from someone old, far older than they actually were, about life and its treasures. A thought, a word flashed through his mind when he looked back at her, into her marble eyes – ”Tesoro”. Where did that one come from? He couldn’t really tell. It was … just a random thought. Some kind of intention he couldn’t comprehend. Even though she had changed and had grown on all the experiences like he did, he saw something in her probably nobody else did. Sweet and delicate like a flower, still dangerous like a predator. A combination one would find in many Shadowhunters but she… it was another level, a twist in both … he couldn’t unravel it like a mystery, a riddle… Not only was it their friendship which connected them… Something else, he didn’t know, couldn’t name, hadn’t experienced in this extend. Maybe he would find out later, needed, must because it would slowly drive him crazy otherwise, the unknown, the not knowing…

Sitting back down nearly every fiber of his being screaming: ”Don’t be like me! Don’t! Stop!” Her thirst for revenge being like a thorn in his eye. Not only dangerous but blinding too. Staying silent he had just taken a sip from his cup before he put it on the table, when she dropped the bomb. ”Anything. To. Save. Me. ?!” Is she serious?! Did she just told him she would have been in trouble if she had went looking for him?!
His heart flinching and picking up pace at once whilst he stood up again, his fingers pressed against the wooden surface of the desk so hard that they turned white. Leaning forward every one of his muscles was tensed, someone might be afraid they would tear any second. Clenching his jaw he stared her directly into the eyes. ”You would have not only been in trouble if you had been looking for me. He would have either killed you within a heartbeat or did the same to you what he did to me. And you know which variant I would have preferred? The first one because I couldn’t, no, I CAN’T live with the thought of you enduring the same as I did, seeing you harmed, hearing you scream, knowing what you’d been through when you would return back down there…”, obviously, Reggie wouldn’t have them trained both at the same time and kept her in the bunker room just like him, ”… and the fact that I can’t help you, can’t make it better, can’t make it stop, can’t make him stop… all just because of me!” Everything inside of him screamed, the lion ravishing inside of him, while his heart ached. Just the thought of it was enough, imagining it was even worse. And his mind played this perverse illusion of her in that situation with him perfectly. With a thunderous force his hand hit the desk, everything on his desk trembled, some coffee spilled over the edges of the cups but he ignored it. He was furious. Not angry about her comment in particular, more like the consequences if she had really found him at Reggies’, about Reggie, about all the shit he had endured. ”Just you being there with me would have made it a lot worse! Alone, I could live with my thoughts, could deal with everything, knowing I would, one day, be back.... I would see my family again, my friends, you. Knowing all of you are safe, you are safe... You were the ones that kept me from loosing my mind completely, gave me the strength I needed, the will to keep on fighting every single second”, gasping for air he caught his shaking breath, his whole body shaking. Gathering himself he calmed himself by forcing his breathing to slow down. His hair dangling wildly from his forehead. Inhaling deeply through his mouth, he added after a few seconds: ”Don’t talk about you potentially running away to find me like it would have only been one of our childish tricks.” They had never been in real trouble. Never. Pressing his lips shut, he shortly turned his head around, away from her. Realizing he had lost control over his temper, he shut his eyes. Why had it been so easy to imagine her there with him? Why had the anger rose inside of him so suddenly and strongly with it? Leaning back the numb pain started to pump inside his hand which he had punched onto the table. ”I… I am sorry...”, he managed to say sighing loudly. Why was it so hard? Why did she made everything so much harder? Why did she have so much power over him? Not daring to look back into her eyes, he managed to turn his head back around at least. ”I truly am...” He felt so bad for screaming at her...

Been raised in a typical Italian family, they had always kept an eye on him and his style. From his birth on he was destined to follow his grandmothers’ footsteps, become the head of the Rome institute. With this fate, he had been confronted his entire life. In some way, he had to sacrifice parts of his life for that. As a child he wasn’t allowed to play childish tricks with his childhood friends, tricking people, just having fun that way. At first, he had always said yes, then called them back to order just before they would have done their prank or whatever they had planned to do. Another point besides his behavior was his style, of course. Always dressed appropriately, maybe even a bit too formal for a child, he couldn’t tell he didn’t enjoy the feeling of the high-quality fabric on his skin. Primarily, his grandmother had chosen the outfits to wear for his visits, seemingly knowing his wardrobe better than anybody else – still he thought she had ordered the clothes from the family tailor. During the last five years, he hadn’t had such luxuries. Earning his clothes through good trainings, he often had to wear smelling, dirty ones with holes and cuts, you couldn’t call them clothes anymore. Since then, he didn’t seem to care much. As long as they covered him, fit and he could fight in them, he was alright with anything. Probably, that’s why he hadn’t cared much – he was used to not be worth something more than his work force.

Every word he said seemed too much. Scenes flashing right before his eyes, tried to cloud his mind with darkness. ’Harder!’ - ‘Faster!’ - ‘Stronger!’ - ‘Better!’ - ‘More!’ - ‘Too slow’ – ‘Not even close’ – ‘Dead within seconds’ – ‘No chance’ – ‘Too obvious’ – ‘Wrong!’ - ‘Again!’ - ‘You didn’t earn that’ – ‘Lucky strike’ – ‘Poor technique’ – ‘Barely okay’ – ‘FIGHT!’ - ‘FIGHT BACK’. His voice growled in his mind like thunder. The image of him burned into his mind with his dismissive look on his face like he was even less worth than the dirt underneath his shoes. Remembering how he had to earn privileges which weren’t called that in normal life – more than just a bit of bread and water as meals, new clothes when the old ones were ruined, showers – not inside but outside under the garden hose with ice cold water with snow in the winter -, the right to use his stele with a gun pointed to the back of his head so he wouldn’t be able to do anything, guitar sessions just to keep a bit of his sanity and other things. With every passing memory the corresponding scars started burning like fire, twitching and itching. Some felt like they had just been cut or created in their own unique ways. Still he kept going, told her what he had been through in a rough sketch of events. Barely revealing any details, he did as much as he could. Just created a coherent story out of the parts, she could fill in the gaps herself. When he was able to tell the entire story? Describe some of the worst days he had in detail? Lot more time would pass till then. Moreover, he was surprised that he had been able to say that much. Always the one voice in the back of his mind asking “Why her?!”, he hadn’t had an answer for that.

When he turned his gaze back to Serafina, her face was a perfect reflection of his own. Some mimics he hadn’t seen on it before. It didn’t fit his image of her. The Serafina he knew, had changed. They had grown up, yes, but that wasn’t everything. A part of her personality had transformed, drastically. Clearly, revenge flashed in her eyes, anger, fury, much more hatred than one would think she could come up with. She hadn’t reached the level of his stone-face yet. Observing her he tried to find out what was going on inside her, he inclined his head slightly. Reading people. Another ability that came in handy. His stoic calmness another one of his new traits, suppressed his feelings on the outside and let him seemingly disinterested interested in the matter. Occasionally taking a sip from his cup, he sat the empty one down. The silence between them louder than any spoken words. She had to gather herself, no, the information, process it.

Pleased and silently surprised about this question, he turned his eyes to hers again. Keeping silent, he listened to her harsh self-criticism. Best friend … His heart would have jumped joyful and excited in his chest about that title but not in this moment. ”Sometimes you first start to value the things you own, the persons you know and possibilities you have when you don’t have them or something happens”, aware he knew what he was talking about without pointing out something specific in his life – or someone. ”Revenge is powerful like all emotions. They can be your blessing, your strength...”, with that he stood up and joined her on her side to get to the espresso machine, ”… or your ruination – not only in battle.” Glancing to the side, he looked at her, before he reached for her cup to refill it when he had prepared everything. Firstly, grinding the beans again. ”You would think killing someone who had done such unforgiving things, to yourself or anyone else, would give you some kind of sanctification, some kind of relief… But eliminating the cause doesn’t reverse the damage that has been done”, patiently and meticulous he pressed the powder into the filter, ”Let me give you an advice: Don’t think anything can be closed like the pages of a book. Everything you experience will stick on you. It forms you in every sense.” Setting her refilled cup down whilst he brewed the coffee for his own, he added: ”And don’t try to take revenge on anyone because of me. I don’t want you to get in those kind of … trouble – too.” Clearly, he stated she was strong enough to do so, however, he didn’t want that on another level, a more personal one. Indirectly, he told her how much he cared about her and her well-being and that he wasn’t worth any trouble she would run into whilst trying something because of him. It sounded almost like he wasn’t worth it – them, their relationship, anything really.

And now he had broken the trinitarian sanctity of the Italians - family, the kitchen and clothes. Which of these pillars had he not already broken? He had not informed his family, had not stirred pasta or other Italian specialties for ages, or even cooked them himself, and had limited himself to the simplest and most minimalist, almost spartan clothing. Accordingly was the reaction he received from Serafina. She stared at him in amazement and even finished her hair care. Immediately she made a decision, and he only raised both eyebrows. She was going to buy clothes with him?! ”You really don’t want to do that”, he tried to convince her from the opposite, however, he knew he couldn’t change her mind. She was stubborn and persistent enough to eventually even drag him to the mall. Clearly, he would resists. Maybe even just to upset her… Blinking he realized what he was thinking. Why would he do that? Waste his time with something so insignificant? Really, this girl and her influence on him …

With the mug of coffee in his hand, he listened. His eyes focused on her, he took in every small movement. Her sigh filling the room told her more than thousand words. Together at their first dinner, she had been a bit picky, you could say. Almost with disgust in her eyes, she had looked over the menu, her nose wrinkling slightly. Clearly, she wasn’t here to enjoy the city or gain any more experiences outside of Rome. Her heart was in Italy and would always be there. However, you should never compare New York to Rome. They were complete opposites as she pointed out. No need in denying that. Dark. Wet. Depressing. Those words his him in a different way. Closing his eyes he frowned, pushing away the memories that crept up upon him. Not now! Swapping the cup to his right, he pinched his eyes with the thumb and pointer finger of his left hand. Usually, he had done that, the other way around as it was more comfortable and didn’t felt that weird as a left-handed. However, over the years he didn’t had a primary hand any more, had trained with both or just one side when the other had been injured. Especially with his choice of weapon, the chakrams, he must be able to fight with both. Nodding slightly, he agreed with her on training could work as a distraction. It was it for him too. Probably, that’s why he spend so much time in the trainings room.

Looking at her again, he lowered his hand. The breeze… How could he forget it? Its soft strokes over his skin, swiftly playing with his hair, its warmth but still coolness compared to the heat of the sun at the mid of day. Carrying the smell of the sea, maybe even coffee and freshly prepared food. Shaking his head slightly at her apology. ”Don’t apologize, please. That’s exactly what I don’t want. People re-thinking every word they want to say, apologizing or feeling bad for them because of me. I do not want to be treated like a raw egg, a stray dog which trust you must gain first” Calmly, he waited, catching his breath and gathering himself. Swallowing the lump that tried to clot his throat, he forced it down. How much would he be able to say? How much could he tell? Turning his gaze towards the not-lit fireplace, he needed somewhere to look at. Anywhere, just not at her. He would see her heart break again, her whole body language would tell him how shocked she was, her face filled with terror, her eyes swelling with tears… He didn’t want to see her like that not even be responsible for that but she wanted to know, would listen. ”I don’t know how much you know. How much they told you...”, he started his story to just to find an introduction really, ”My trainer and I had been chosen to be part of a mission. Everything had been researched, seemed fine. When we got there, nothing was as it should have been. We had walked straight into a trap. Everything was pure chaos which we tried to escape but we stood no chance...” Scenes flashing right before his eyes. The smell of blood and death, the screams of commands, pain and sorrow, his own heart beating heavily, his breathing staggered, using his weapons somehow, his injuries burning – his only goal: to get out alive. His scars stinging as a reminder of that moment. Putting his cup down for safety and so she wouldn’t see his hand starting to tremble. ”My only luck, you could say, had been a mundane with the sight who had watched, found me and took me in.” His phrasing already telling he hadn’t been lucky. Probably, she could fill in some blanks herself. ”He took away my weapons and my stele… He had been an ex-soldier, high ranked, fought in Afghanistan and other places and wars, discharged with honors and psychological problems... Somehow I could convince him, I am just like him... – a soldier… So he decided to train me…” His hair raising in awareness, his voice had gotten thin, his gaze still somewhere in the distance like he was there. ”Fair to say he had… his… own… methods...” Visibly struggling, he wasn’t able to cry, didn’t. His body not even shaking, only his voice betrayed him, did he fell back into his usual unreadable self, stone-faced, cold and mystical stare. ”At first, I believed it wouldn’t be that long till some Shadowhunters would find me. They must be looking for me, right?”, now his words were nothing more like a whisper, however, talking about his thoughts back then was much easier than the actual experiences, ”Then I pondered about what the Clave would say in different scenarios I had modeled in my head… Or the mundane would let me go after some time when I had finished my training? Probably with a final test...” The memories screaming in his head, pounding against the door he had locked them inside his head which caused him headaches on several locations, primarily directly in the mid of his forehead. No, he couldn’t tell more. Couldn’t go into details but now she knew the shallow frame, knew at least a bit and could fill in the blanks. Grabbing his cup, he finally turned his head towards her. His eyes shining with an ice-cold fire she had never seen before in them. The cold probably from his usual gaze and distanced behavior but not to this extend. ”I passed the test”, he concluded with an emotionless voice and took a sip. With a blink of his eyes they turned back to normal, well, the soldier normal. She could guess the date when he had graduated from his ‘private school’ roughly, too.

Whatever it was, however she managed it, it was good for him. For the well-being of the boy inside him, who appeared almost constantly with her. Was it because they had spent their childhood together? Subliminal memories that made him relive the same emotions as back then and thus led him to his old self? It had to be something... He had been thinking about this since their first meeting after all these years, but he had not found out anything yet. The same was true for his strange heartbeat. Maybe it would still come up... somehow. After all, he couldn't really stand it if he couldn't explain something like that. Thereby he had already collected some and various experiences, but even with this collected knowledge, he didn't know, why... That made him still completely crazy! This ignorance!
When she reached for his hand, he did not have as many questions and thoughts as Serafina herself. For him it was a simple, quick gesture to prevent someone from leaving just like that. Or? There was not too much behind it for him. Apart from those strange and ambiguous 'symptoms' - what else could he call it? - that he received. However, he seemed to get used to them slowly...

With a change of clothes he returned to her in the bathroom and then left the field to her. After she had returned with her clothes, he himself disappeared with a pack of them. What did she mean by already couples-look? Just because she was wearing his clothes? "What should I have against it?", he asked before the door closed behind him.
Inside, surprisingly, he did not feel the tropical heat he had expected, but a pleasant coolness. Serafina must not have changed the water temperature setting, after all, he also took a cold shower. In no time he had even taken off his clothes and placed himself under the pleasantly cool water. Apparently she had changed something after all, because he had to turn the setting back completely to the highest blue bar. That she had used his shampoo, of course, and due to the lack of her own, was relatively unimportant to him. It was there to be used. A few moments later he had finished showering himself, lightly and quickly drying first his hair, then his body before stepping into fresh clothes. A simple stroke of his hand over his head put the long strands of his mop of hair in the right place - since they were growing relatively fast, he would soon have to either reach for the knife or buy more products for it.

Back in the main room, he was greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. As if attracted by a magnet, his gaze slid to Serafina, whose long wet hair curled slightly. Had he seen this on her before? Sure, when they were children, but he had no memory of that at the moment. Still, he had to admit, he was not averse to these waves. Circling the desk, he sat down in his chair, reaching for his still half-full coffee cup. "Clearly," he agreed with her and could tell, she was glad to be out of her sweaty clothes as well.
Blinking, the cup hovered in the air briefly as he looked up at her. "I didn't know you were so interested in my wardrobe..." he began, before resuming his movement and leaning back. "But to answer your question, I own several copies of the same clothing - same cut, same color, same material." At the explanation, both of his brows lifted slightly and he seemed to toast her formally with his coffee cup. "I didn't know you were training so early," he objected after a sip and a quick glance at the dial of the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read just before 2 a.m., "Or rather late." Although she had come to see him for training at 4 a.m. the other day, he had attributed this to the time zone shift before classifying her as a rather early bird. But not like this, surely? "Couldn't you sleep?" was the first reason that came to his mind. With his question, however, he invited her at the same time to enlighten him further about it, if necessary, or to instruct him if he was wrong. He would listen. Just some other conversation before he would tell her. Time he needed to prepare for his story time, or rather horror story.

Glad to have each other back, he was still faced with a very big task - letting his family know. How he was going to do it? Possibly he would talk to Sera about it again. But these thoughts were banished to the back of his mind for the time being. Instead, the emotions burst upon him, pulled him off his feet and literally rolled over him. She made an important contribution to this. Her mere presence was enough, she herself was also overwhelmed by feelings. Why he was so vulnerable with her of all people? He could not explain it to himself. One part of him wanted to know the answer, another part didn't care at all. As long as they had each other... It was ... strange and just good, perfect. Even earlier, as children, they had harmonized together. And he was the one who had mostly gotten involved with the girls' fluff. By that he meant not only Sera's, but also Lydia's. What rivalry existed between the two, he did not know then as now. If he had to, could he choose one?

Even after they had both calmed down a bit, he didn't immediately notice their close body contact. For him, the only thing that counted was how they were both doing emotionally. If they needed it, he would continue to stand close to her. For him this was not a problem, he did not even think in any other directions. Later he might notice that they had been relatively close to each other, very close. An embrace among friends of a different kind? Rather, he would again be preoccupied by the strangely irregular beating of his heart, which played madly at the slightest gesture of Serafina. Not to mention her touches.

But now the spell between them seemed to be broken. His spontaneous and somehow almost unrecognizable reaction was immediately rewarded with a screech of his name, which only made his smirk finer and wider. For his sake, she could quietly giggle his name more often. And right there it was again. How did he come up with such thoughts in the first place? Almost as a kind of kick, his heart jumped against his chest at that moment. What did this want to tell him now? Unless it was completely out of control again? He would certainly rack his brains over that later. Now he carried her safely the few meters to the shower, where he set her down. To stand directly under it with her did not occur to him. If they were at a lake, however, he might have simply thrown her in completely at a deep spot.
In order not to appear impatient and strange, he already turned away to leave, but was held back by her "wait". Turning to her, he was quite aware of her hand, which had wrapped itself around his. Shortly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but he skillfully ignored his formal caution at this moment. Staring blankly at her, he needed a few seconds to process her statement. Far too much of his attention was focused on her hand, the touch of her skin. What did she mean? Ahhh, clothes. To cover this brief moment of his trance, he ran his free hand through his hair. "Un momento per favore," he asked her, briefly raising the index finger of the released hand, its fingers still tingling from the gentle brush of hers over it. Something inside him just now was a little... displeased with the quick release. By the angels, what was it? Not wanting to let his distraction show any further, he had made his way to the closet. Dark wood processed with black metal and a mirror. All in all, it measured easily two meters and was actually much too big for Leonidas. He kept his clothes simple and minimalist, as well as his furniture. 10 long-sleeved shirts, 10 pairs of jeans, a total of 3 pairs of shoes, 20 pairs of socks and underwear - all in simple black and all the same model. That facilitated, or rather saved, one the search for a suitable outfit enormously. With all but the shoes carefully stacked on top of each other, he returned to the bathroom and placed them on a small chair, which was specially prepared for this purpose. By stroking through his hair, his strands became even more wild and stood out even more because of their self-will. "Here. Problema risolto," he concluded with a slight upward tug of the corner of his mouth. "Towels are hanging fresh there. Just help yourself." With that, he now left the bathroom to her alone and sat down at his desk to make himself a cup of coffee. Should she also want one, he would then make her a fresh one. Afterwards, he would go into the bathroom after herself with a fresh bundle of clothes of his own, and after a good five minutes, rejoin her fully dressed, but still soaking wet, yet neatly streaked hair.