Authors note: This is set just before the Bonfire of the Vanities. They don't set a specific date for it so I put it a month before, giving our hero in white time to get re-acquainted with his home city.

There are no pairing in this apart from Amy/Rory as per the canon, the Doctor won't be getting the assassin into the TARDIS so there will be no 'bigger on the inside' moment from him. The rating might go up to M if our assassin can't keep his foul mouth in check.

Sadly, I do not own anything bar an overactive imagination. This is my first fanfic ever, please go easy on me.

"Paris!" the Doctor proclaimed triumphantly as he swung open the doors to the TARDIS. "1902, if I'm correct," he added, turning to face the Ponds as they followed him out onto the back alley street. It was narrow and cramped but the Doctor merely beamed at his companions cheerfully and waved them out of the way so he could close the door behind them. "The Tower should be that way," he pointed over Amy's left shoulder towards the end of the alley, "now, don't spend too long, I want to be gone by sundown." Shooing them off, he turned to go in the opposite direction - until he was brought to a stop by Amy's familiar cry.
"What is it now, Pond?" Frowning at the red head as he made his way towards her, he noticed she was pointing at something.
"Doctor…that is not in Paris." His eyes followed her finger to rest upon a massive cathedral structure, it's dome a vibrant terracotta against the blue sky. "Ah," he said, wracking his brain as to where and when they were.
"Not Paris then," came a dry, unsurprised remark from Rory who was busy following the line of the giant tower which stood tall against the cathedral.
"Florence…" the Doctor muttered, frowning and wondering how he managed to get it wrong. Again.
"Florence? So we're in Italy?" Amy sounded excited, the last time they visited Italy they had gone to Venice and found it swarming with vampires (not actual vampires mind, but close enough).
"Yes, that's the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore - the cathedral. Or Duomo, if you prefer. They started building it in 1296 but it looks like it's been finished for a while." The Doctor was desperately trying to figure out when they were and was merely talking aloud until he got the timelines right in his head. "That means we're later than 1436 but I don't think we're in the sixteenth century yet. It doesn't look old enough. Not that it looks that old at any point in it's life but -"
"-you're rambling." Amy cut in, looking at the Doctor with a slightly bored expression. "And that means you don't know what year it is." With a smirk, she turned on her heel and walked up to a man in an ornate uniform with a red cap - a city guard. "Excuse me, could you tell me what year it is?" Amy's men gawped at her as she turned on the charm before thanking the man and wandering back to where they stood, mouths open like fish out of water. "May 1497. You're welcome."
"1497...Savonarola and the Bonfire of the Vanities." the Doctor noted, looking at his watch before shaking his head. "Nope, too early for the Bonfire. You wouldn't want to see that anyway, horrid business. Burning of books…and people." He pulled a face halfway between a snarl and a grimace that Amy couldn't help but internally laugh at. "Oh well, seeing as we're here we might as well have a look around. I've noticed that all Rory's done since we got here was look at Giotto's Campanile."
Rory, at the mention of his name, broke out of his stare for a brief moment to point at a section of the bell tower roughly three quarters of the way up. "I wouldn't normally stare at something…but there seems to be someone climbing that tower…"


The wind was strong that far up the Campanile, it whipped about the climber's robes fiercely but his grip was strong enough to keep him firmly attached to the face of the tower. The burn in his arms and legs was reassuring and a smirk crept onto his lips as he pushed himself further up the tower to where he knew there was a place to shuffle around to the west face and carry on up until he could reach the very top. Every hand hold, every little notch to put his feet, he knew them as well as he knew the patterns of his own skin. Every movement he made was instinct, powered on by an unstoppable force to climb. It had been a while (years) since he had climbed the Campanile and he always enjoyed the challenge of scaling the tallest building in Firenze just to enjoy the view. Finally, his usual perch crept into his line of sight over his hood and with one last pull, he heaved himself up onto it and straddled it. With a triumphant but muted laugh, he shifted to get comfortable upon the narrow platform and dangled his legs in the wind. A gloved hand pushed back his hood and fingers ran through his hair as he sighed, enjoying the sight of Firenze sprawling out below him. He loved to be home. Venezia was nice, Forli held good company. But only Firenze was home. He had been away for so long and he had returned to find her a troubled place. He knew he would have to rid her of the thorn in her side but he could not act yet. Frowning in thought, he turned his attention downwards and let his vision blur into that black haze he knew so well. Flashes of blue, spots of red. Same old same old. And then…gold. He focussed hard on the three golden figures down below him, staring with the intensity of a eagle. Snapping out of his second sight, his gaze remained on the figures. He wasn't just watching them. They were watching him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he lifted his hood back up without letting his sight drop from the trio. Finally, he broke off the stare and got to his feet without hesitation or fear of unbalancing himself. Despite the wind whipping at his robes and cape, he stood as solid as the tower did. The three had started to move, running towards the bottom of the Campanile, and the hooded figure crouched, listening to his heart beat getting faster as his body anticipated the rush of adrenaline that would follow what was coming.

And then, in one swift movement; as a scream from a female voice down below rang out over the Piazza del Duomo…

The hooded figure jumped.