literature

Log of a doctor

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June 21, 1468.


The doctor was just screwing the top back on his prized jar of leeches when the yelps became audible.

"Ow, ow, ow!" The voice of a young boy cried out in pain, "Stop, Federico! It hurts too much!"

"Well how do you expect it to heal if you can't even get to the dottore?" An older child replied snappishly.  

With worried curiosity, the black-robed man walked towards the two struggling siblings, noting their rich finery and well-groomed heads.

"Excuse me, bambini," His patient drone seemed out of place beside their grunts and gasps, "But is there anything I may do to assist you?"

"Yes, please!" The elder boy, a handsome child with auburn hair and hazel eyes, responded, "My brother and I were playing and he-well, he-he stumbled."

"Signore," He turned his head to acknowledge the smaller male, who whimpered pitifully at him, "if you are truly a doctor, you must fix my leg. The pain is unbearable!"

The doctor was silent. He bent down to the child's height and examined his twisted appendage. The bone was not shattered, but curved at an impossible angle. Frankly, the injury itself was sickening to look at and it was a wonder the boy was even conscious.

"This, you received playing with your brother?" Beneath his mask the doctor's eyebrow rose, "Were you attacking each other with sledgehammers?"

"Please, signore," The maimed one wailed, "no more joking. I need help!"

"Va bene, va bene," He agreed, "I will aid you."

The black robed man gently wrapped his hands around the boy's waist and lifted him off the ground, setting him on the medicine cart.

"First I will have to give you something to dull the pain." He explained, pulling out a large, lethal looking syringe.

"Uh," The child swallowed and his face turned a whiter shade of pale, "Actually, the pain isn't that bad!"

"Ezio!" The older boy scowled, "Just do what he says and sit still. It's bad enough you'll have to invent something to tell Padre!"

"Invent something?" The doctor repeated as he filled the tube with anesthetic. At the siblings' exchanged glances, he added: "Well, you'd best improve the terrible lie you told me. If you were my children I would never let you outside again."

"Signore, do you really have to stick that big, sharp needle in me?" The one known as Ezio sniffed, brown eyes widening.

The doctor responded by quickly jabbing him in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Shut up and act like a man, will you, tartaruga?"

"Easy for you to say!" Ezio retorted as the doctor withdrew his syringe.

"Now listen close, Ezio," He told the boy, "I am not used to medicating children, so the effects of the drug may vary. But you will definitely become sleepy, so I want you to tell me now: where does it hurt the most?"

Ezio blinked, "My leg."

The doctor rolled his eyes beneath his mask, "I gathered as much."

[xxx]

September 12, 1474



"And how do you feel now?" He asked the boy softly, removing the glove on his hand in order to feel the skin of his forehead.

The eleven-year-old shrugged, though the look in his eyes was clouded, "No better than usual."

He pressed his palm against the child's face and sighed. The fever had faded, but that did not mean it wouldn't return. Petruccio Auditore was one of his trickiest patients.

"Dottore?" The woman's voice was very guarded as she entered the room, fingers meshing together idly in her lap, "How is he?"

"He should be alright," The doctor answered, straightening and slipping the glove back over his hand. "But I want him to continue taking the tonic, and a bit more rest should help."

"Grazie," The aging lady bowed her head, then held her hand out to her son. "Come, Petruccio. Say thank you to the kind doctor."

"Thank you, messere," Petruccio mumbled to the floor.

He smiled, and was about to reply when knocks sounded from the door.

"Come in!" The doctor called, pulling his mask from the table and strapping it on hastily.

The door quietly inched open, allowing some of the violence of the storm in. Two figures, each one soaked and chattering, stepped inside.

"Ezio?" Maria asked, eyes wide, "Federico?"

"M-m-mother!" The former grinned widely; one might say crazily, "What a coincidence meeting you here!"

"Ah, if it isn't the Fratelli Auditore," The doctor chuckled as he took in their sopping bodies, "What's broken this time?"

"Ezio," Maria's expression narrowed, "Have you hurt yourself again?"

"No!" The fifteen-year-old replied quickly.

"And you, Federico," Maria whirled to her eldest child, staring him down, "What's your part in this? Aren't you supposed to be at the bank?"

"They let me off," The youth answered.

"In the middle of a storm?" Maria marveled, then to herself added, "Dio caro, how did I manage to raise such horrendous liars?"

"Madonna Auditore," The doctor interjected, "Please do not worry yourself. I assure you I will cure your sons, no matter what the issue is."

"I don't think you can cure the disease they have, doctor," Maria snorted, "It's called 'egomania'."

"Nevertheless," He laughed, and then recovered, "The best thing for you to do now is to take Petruccio home before the rain gets worse. You don't need a cold, amongst other things."

"Yes," Maria agreed, "Of course. Thank you again, dottore."

"It is my pleasure." As he spoke, the woman pulled on her coat and handed Petruccio an umbrella. When they opened the door to step outside, however, Maria snapped to her sons:

"Neither of you has heard the last of this!"

The door slam was forgotten below the sound of hope leaving both sets of lungs.

"Now," The black robed man began, removing his mask, "What's happened?"

Federico elbowed him, and Ezio reluctantly pulled his hand from his pocket.

"Oh dear…" The appendage was swollen and bruised, and two of its fingers were grossly bent out of shape. "Ezio, how do these things happen to you?"

"Vieri de'Pazzi and I had a…disagreement." The teenager winced when the doctor prodded his inflamed flesh.

"And so he decided to torture you through cruel and unusual methods?" He led on skeptically. Then he turned his attention to the eldest Auditore. "And what's wrong with you?"

"Fortunately, nothing," Federico replied, "But my brother does not have the money to pay for your services at the moment, and I don't trust him to fish the funds from my purse."   

"So you came in person?" The doctor continued, ignoring Ezio's hisses of pain as he popped the bones back in place.

"Si," Federico nodded, "Thought I doubt you'll charge us much anyway. Ezio's injury isn't as bad as the usual."

"No, it's not." The doctor granted, now soothing the irritated skin with salves.

"Buongiornio," Ezio muttered, "I am a person, not a centerpiece."

"With the amount we pay for you daily, you might as well be." Federico teased.

"Go fuck yourself."

[xxx]



February 5, 1486

It had been another slow day. The doctor stood patiently beside the same stall he'd worked at for the past twenty years, watching the crowd swim past. There had been no customers. Some might consider that a good thing, and he figured it was just as well since his aged bones were always bothering him.

So when a scream of horror suddenly pierced the air, his senses heightened and he scanned the area anxiously.

What met his eyes was a limping man, bleeding heavily as he staggered towards the stall. The hood was familiar, but as the doctor rushed to his side, the figure seemed more alien than ever before.

"Talk to me, Ezio," He muttered as he half carried, half dragged the man inside, where there was a table.

At first, he said nothing intelligible. As the doctor pressed medicated cloth deep into his wounds, Ezio mumbled, "…Ambush. Saw me…Lorenzo…" Then slipped out of consciousness.

"I swear, child," the black robed man shook himself as he fought to save the Auditore's life, "You were born with a talent for self-destruction."  

In a few hours, Ezio was awake again, but very groggy. It was then that the dottore was able to hear the whole story.

"I thought you were in Venezia," He asked.

"I am," Ezio nodded weakly, "But…It's difficult to destroy a conspiracy in one state and defend its victims in another."

"So you're here to protect the Medici?"

The Assassin blinked hard, removing the glaze from his eyes, "Yes. I succeeded in killing my target, but he was prepared for me…Not even I can handle six brutes at once…"

"Brutes?" The doctor repeated, eyebrows raised.

Ezio laughed humorlessly. "A nickname Federico and I bestowed upon them. Giants of men, with little but the rocks in their heads to guide their strength."

At the mention of the deceased Auditore, the room fell into silence. Ezio's head slowly fell back against his pillow, and he stared up at the ceiling.

"His birthday is coming up."

"What?" The doctor frowned; half assuming the comment was purely anesthetic-based.

"Federico's birthday. I never got his present to him that year."

"Ezio-" Whenever he started, he couldn't be stopped.

"I was really going to buy him something great," Ezio continued, "But I kept spending the money. I thought, 'what's the use? He'll always have another birthday, and I can buy him something then.'"

There were no words that could stand up to the younger man's loss.

"This year, I'm going to give it to him."

"Give what to him, Ezio?" When he looked down, the doctor noted that Ezio's eyes had once again gone glossy, and his lids fluttered.

"The present," He explained quietly, "I'm not going back to that maledetta field and putting down another cazzo bouquet of flowers for the sixteenth year in a row."

The doctor refrained from pointing out that Ezio had never purchased a bouquet of flowers in his life, and that his brothers' deaths had only occurred ten years ago.  
 
"And so what present will you give him?" He prodded.

For a moment, Ezio stared at him, confused. Then he answered:

"Three words: I loved you."

The silence returned, and he gently patted the younger man's arm.

"Go to sleep now, Ezio. Just go to sleep."
Dribble Drabbles, chap 20.

Inspired by that guy who went, "Fratelli Auditore. Why am I not surprised?"


And yes, :iconsoulstealer450: , this one has Petruccio in it for no reason at all.
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