Assassin's Creed 1. Chapter 1

-Jerusalem/afternoon-

Malik Al-Sayf clenched the quill in his only hand tighter in frustration. Altair had left to gather information on his next target almost two hours ago. And although he always managed to be somewhat "unprofessional" at times, he was never this late in returning...  
Had something happened to him? Surely "the great" Altair Ibn La'Ahad hadn't been taken down...had he?  
His frustration slowly changing to concern, Malik set down his quill and began to pace the floor. What the hell was taking him so long?  
I can't even go after him...Malik's sad but true thought haunted him with the fact that he could no longer be an assassin, due to his "condition", courtesy of the currently MIA novice. Just when Malik thought he'd start throwing books, he heard a loud crash from the other room. Altair was finally back...  
But not in good shape, as Malik had suspected. The rafiq hurried over to the fallen killer, an angry but worried expression on his face.

"Altair, what in the name of-"

"I'm fine," The stubborn assassin refused to accept the fact that he was bleeding profusely, having been stabbed in the side by a lucky guard who managed to wound him before having his throat slashed by Altair's blade.

"You are NOT fine, Altair. I will have to dress your wound so that you don't ruin my floors any more than you already have." Malik turned to retrieve the medical supplies.

Altair sat there despite his nature not to listen to anyone. He was angry and humiliated. One, for being wounded by a lowly guard. Two, for having to come to Malik for help and seeing him in this pathetic state.  
But what else was he supposed to do? He didn't have the things needed for treating the gash himself, and the streets were crawling with more guards by the second. He HAD to come to the bureau, pride be damned.

Malik returned to the room with a small basin of water, a washcloth, bandages, and medicine. The fact that he managed to carry all that with a single arm stunned Altair. And apparently, that astonishment was clear on his hooded face.

"What are you staring at? Hurry up and remove your robe before it's dyed completely red...!"  
Altair sighed and reluctantly complied, taking off his gear and weapons, followed by his bloodstained assassin's robe, leaving the hood on.  
Malik winced involuntarily at the sight of his former friend's injuries, despite the fact that he'd seen much worse on others...but seeing Altair like this was...strange...he wasn't sure what to feel.  
Altair frowned at the one-armed man's expression. "What's that look for? It isn't that serious..."  
No, it wasn't, but still...was this sympathy Malik was feeling? A compassionate Malik Al-Sayf seemed somewhat...unnatural. But that thought didn't stop the wounded assassin from feeling a little grateful...and as for why, he had no idea.

Malik sat down next to him, setting the supplies on the floor. He picked up the cloth and dampened it with the water in the wooden basin. "Why on earth do you always keep your hood on? Are you afraid-"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Altair all but growled those words, his icy glare barely visible in the shadow cast by his beaked hood.

It took a few seconds for Malik to answer. "Altair...everyone is afraid of at least one thing, whether it is visible or invisible. You know this, and yet you believe you fear nothing. You are such a novice..." Sighing, he wrung out the cloth and began cleaning up the gash in Altair's side as best he could.

Altair winced slightly, but that was it. He refused to show any form of weakness, pain being the main one. That was what your enemies thrived on. Pain. So to not show it is not only survival, but dignity. But there is also another damning emotion; love. Altair made it a point not to grow too attached to anyone. But whenever he came to Malik's bureau, he was assaulted by mixed emotions...remorse surprisingly one of them. He never wanted Malik to lose his brother, Kadar, or his arm. And every time he saw Malik, deep down was a tiny voice begging him to apologize and ask for Malik's forgiveness. But he always managed to drown out that voice with his more stoic self. Today, however, was different...

"That's enough treatment, Malik. I need to finish what I started."

"And so do I. Now sit still and stay quiet." Malik continued wrapping the bandages, having already applied the medicine. "You are so impatient..."

Altair sighed. He didn't see himself as impatient, just dedicated. "I am not impatient. I have unfinished business to attend to."

The rafiq frowned at the assassin. "And you think I don't? I'm not sure why I'm even helping you...it is your own fault that you were wounded like this. And yet you have the nerve to say-"

"Sorry..." Altair felt as stunned as Malik now looked.  
Did he just apologize?

Malik quickly finished and stared at his guest.  
I must be going insane...I must be hearing things...

"Malik, I...I mean it...I've been wanting to tell you, but...I was...I just didn't want you to resent me any more than you already do..." Altair looked to the side. "It was a tragedy. That day...when Kadar was lost...and your arm being damaged beyond repair...I didn't mean for those things to happen. But your resentment towards me is fully understandable as well as justified. I don't blame you at all for hating me, for I've hated myself as well. I just hope that one day you could look at me without wishing I would leave the moment I get here...without-?"

Altair's oddly heartfelt words were cut off by Malik's lips quickly pressing against his own for a split second before he pulled away without a word. Malik picked up the medical items and silently walked back into his office, leaving Altair shocked, confused, and feeling some other foreign emotion that he had yet to recognize...


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, neither assassin nor rafiq spoke of that afternoon's occurrences. However, Altair was beginning to grow anxious. The moment he arrived from eavesdropping for intel, he headed straight for Malik's desk, his mind set on what the former assassin did.

"Malik...I-"

"Did you gather enough information yet?" He was avoiding eye contact by looking down at his parchment.

Altair hesitated before answering. "No, not yet. But-"

"Then quit wasting time. Get back out there and finish the job." It seemed as if he was avoiding any further conversation...and Altair was quickly growing tired of him stopping his words.

"Malik, I need to speak with you. It's important."

Malik glanced up at him briefly before returning to focusing on his maps. "It can wait."

Altair fought the urge to slam his fist into the table. "No. It can't. Not anymore." He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his frustration. "Answer me this, Malik. Why did you kiss me that day in the resting room?"

Altair's sudden and rather blunt question caught Malik off guard. Dare he answer? If so, should he lie? Or be honest? These options swarmed in Malik's skull like an angry wasp's nest. Still avoiding eye contact, he stuck with a vague but truthful answer. "I don't know how to explain it..."

A confused frown appeared on the assassin's hooded face. "What do you mean? I don't understand..."

Malik sighed and finally looked up. "Altair...do you remember all those years ago, when we would train together? When we were both mere novices...?"

Altair nodded, the faint traces of a smile gracing his scarred lips. "Yes, I remember that well. We were such good friends. No matter how challenging the exercise, we'd always assist each other. Like the times you'd overwork yourself, and I brought you water."

"Yes...and when you almost fell off the ledge near the village, I helped you up just as you were about to lose your grip."

The Master Assassin frowned. "I don't remember that. Are you sure it was me?"

Malik sighed in irritation. How could he forget him saving his life? True, it was many years ago, but people don't just forget near-death experiences. Deciding not to answer Altair's idiotic question, Malik started walking past him.

Altair quickly blocked his path. He wasn't about to let him get away after finally regaining his attention. "You're avoiding my question, Malik. All you did was bring up the past. Why won't you tell me why you-"

"Why do you think I kissed you? Why does one kiss someone, Altair? Do you even know the meaning behind something so simple? Do I have to explain everything to you as if you are a child? Are you..." Malik's tirade was cut short by the odd look Altair was giving him. He looked confused, yet somehow understanding at the same time.

"You...Malik, are you saying that you...love me?"

The rafiq looked away, wearing an expression mirroring that of a child caught stealing sweets. An expression that was completely foreign for Malik...which confirmed Altair's suspicions.  
He does love me...


	3. Chapter 3

Stunned at Malik's indirect reply, Altair couldn't stop the rafiq from getting away. He pushed the assassin to the side, quickly retreating to the other side of his desk. He sat in the chair in the far left corner, his back to Altair. Taking one of the books from the shelf, Malik decided it was suddenly far more interesting than talking to or even looking over at his supposed crush.

Altair just stood there as silent as a statue, struggling to come to terms with this revelation.  
He loves me. Malik Al-Sayf LOVES me. That...that makes no sense. Why does he? We're both men, and yet he has feelings for me. What in Allah's name am I supposed to do about this?  
Just as Altair was about to say something, Malik cut him off.

"Hurry up and go finish your mission." The rafiq held a white feather over his shoulder instead of turning around to give it to him.

Altair sighed and took it, then reluctantly left the bureau. He'd have to talk to Malik later (if he didn't get killed as a result of his mind being preoccupied with conflicting  
emotions.)

Still sitting in his chair, Malik put away the book that he wasn't even reading.  
Damn it! He knows now! So much for keeping it a secret...  
He got up from his seat and began pacing the office floor.  
What do I do now? I can't face him without knowing how he feels about this. But I'm too afraid to ask.

Malik sighed and leaned against a wall. "I am such a coward..." He looked over at the resting room, his gaze gradually drifting from the sunlight shining through the roof to the cushions on the floor. A few drops of Altair's blood had gone unnoticed during Malik's frustrated cleaning. Just then, the former assassin's thoughts shifted from his unveiled feelings to Altair's well-being.  
I forgot to tell him about the possibility of a trap...!

* * *

The Templar Captain that Altair had been assigned to assassinate was known to frequently set up traps for the enemy. In other words, an advanced form of ambush. If that damn Templar somehow discovered an assassin was after him, he'd plot a deadly trick for sure.  
Malik felt like a bird with a broken wing locked in a cage. Even if he did leave the bureau, fighting off enemies with one arm would be too risky, regardless of his skills.  
I forgot to warn him, and now I can't even help him!  
The only thing he could do was hope and pray that his Master Assassin would make it back alive...

Altair Ibn La'Ahad looked down from the roof of one of the taller buildings in Jerusalem, perched carefully on the edge. His target stood no chance against his eagle vision. After scanning the crowd of people gathered in the square below, he found the Templar Captain, accompanied by a small posse of guards.  
That's strange...Captains usually have at least two groups of soldiers...  
Deciding this situation was more convenient than suspicious, Altair dove into the bale of hay below. The guards across the small courtyard took no notice, of course. The Captain, however, was not so oblivious. He looked over at the haystack just as it settled. Shrugging it off, he decided not to alert the guards.  
His seemingly lack of intelligence made Altair smirk.  
Big mistake, you disgusting pig...

The assassin emerged from the hay in a flash, drawing his sword as he fearlessly-and recklessly-rushed toward his target head-on. The guards immediately noticed him, shouting and drawing their swords as well. The first kill was easy; a stab through the chest. The soldier didn't have time to fight back. Kicking the dead man off his blade, Altair was assaulted by four guards at once; not a challenge at all. Once he dispatched of what seemed like an endless hoard of guards, he saw his target already escaping.

Altair quickly sheathed his blade and took to the rooftops, catching up to the Captain and trailing him unnoticed. The Templar foolishly fled into an alleyway.  
You're dead now, old man!  
Altair smirked and jumped down behind his target. As soon as the man turned to face him, the assassin knew something wasn't right. Before he could react, Altair was completely surrounded.

The Templar Captain let out a deep, malicious laugh, his arms crossed in a proud and mocking manner. "It seems the deadly eagle has been overtaken by its prey!"

Altair cursed foully, which only made the target smirk more. He was trying to think of a way out of this circle of soldiers. "If you think you can take me down this easily, Captain, you're sadly mistaken," The Master Assassin pinned a vicious glare on the man standing before him.

"Kill him!"

The first attack came from Altair's left. With no time to draw his sword, the assassin tried blocking it with his hidden blade, but to no avail. The Templar sword cut deep into his shoulder. Altair clenched his teeth and growled at the pain, determined not to lose to these dogs. The second and third attacks struck at the same time.

Dodge to cause friendly fire, then use my sword and finish off the others...

Altair carried out his plan effortlessly, but it left him low on stamina, his left shoulder bleeding badly. However, his body's condition didn't stop him from chasing down the Templar Captain once more. This time, he wasn't getting away. Altair drove his hidden blade directly through the man's jugular, not caring to let him speak or rest in peace. He just soaked the white feather in his blood and stood up.

That bastard deserved what he received.

Scanning the area around him, the wounded assassin made sure to keep out of sight on the way back to Malik's bureau. He was actually staying hidden for once; an occurrence as rare as Malik being happy to see him. He entered the sanctuary through the rooftop as always. Altair walked into the other room, expecting Malik to ignore him again. He didn't; he wasn't even at his desk.

Altair frowned. This has never happened before. The diligent man was always here, working his ass off, drawing out maps and keeping tabs on important information regarding the Brotherhood. More blood continued to flow from Altair's wound, but that didn't matter right now. The only thing worrying the assassin was the disappearance of a man who loves him...


	4. Chapter 4

I'm going to punch him when I find him...!

Altair was jumping from roof to roof after thoroughly searching the bureau. Malik's unexpected disappearance left the assassin extremely uneasy. He couldn't explain it, but somewhere in the corner of his heart, there was a terrible ache. That and a knot in his stomach. Unsure if this was a sign of having feelings for Malik or just side effects from blood loss, Altair continued scanning the streets. He'd even tried his eagle vision, but still no Malik anywhere.

Damn you, Al-Sayf...where the hell are you?

Altair skidded to a stop on the edge of a rooftop. Down below, standing in an alleyway near a haystack, was Malik. Relief washed over the assassin before being sharply replaced with anger. He dove into the hay and jumped out behind him; not a smart move. Malik spun around with a dagger and would've slashed his throat had he not jumped back.

"Malik, focus! It's me!"

Malik looked like he was staring at a mirage. "Altair...?" His voice was barely a whisper. Before the other could respond, Malik dropped the dagger and embraced him like a worried friend. No...like a distraught lover.

Altair froze at the foreign physical contact. When was the last time he'd been hugged like this? Treated like he mattered and not just as a messenger of death to all enemies of the Brotherhood? The assassin reluctantly wrapped his arms around Malik, who reacted by hugging him tighter, his face buried in the crook of Altair's neck.

Something sparked in Altair's mind just then. Something that brought out a pink tint to the assassin's cheeks. What was this strange feeling? It was similar to the emotions he was feeling when searching for Malik, but...warmer. The rafiq's one arm around him was making him feel strangely safer, as if nothing could harm him as long as he was with Malik.

Altair, a cold and stoic Master Assassin, was no longer hidden beneath his solemn barrier of indifference. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but only to this man. Only to Malik, his only once good friend, who basically said he loves him. Do all these new feelings have to do with Malik?

Altair reluctantly let his arms drop back to his sides, making the other man step back, looking a bit disheartened. That expression made Altair's heart sink. "Malik...I think...I think I..."

Malik tilted his head in confusion, meeting Altair's shadowed gaze. "You think what?"

"There's the assassin!"  
"Get him!"  
"Do not let him escape!"  
A group of guards unfortunately spotted him outside the alley.

Altair growled in frustration. "Never mind. You just get back to the Assassin's bureau while I take care of these dogs." The guards were already in the alleyway, rushing towards them. Altair urged Malik to take the back way at the end of the passage.

"But, Altair, your arm! You"

"I'll be fine! Now go! I'll meet you there soon!" Altair spun around to face the guards, sword drawn and ready to fight.

Malik forced himself to retreat. Luckily, the soldiers were too focused on taking down Altair to notice. Then again, that wasn't exactly good luck, either. Malik could have stayed and fought alongside him, but Altair would be too distracted with his safety to fight off those guards. Just how many had there been? Five? Six? The former assassin tried not to think about it, but an image of Altair dying at the hands of the enemy continued to haunt him, reminding him of Kadar's death after Altair had left the temple.

Malik stopped in his tracks. Even though Altair wanted him to leave, he should have stayed. What if he does get killed? It's as if he was Kadar and Malik was Altair... Malik shook his head, banishing the thought.

No...that won't happen. He won't die. This isn't the past, and he isn't Kadar. He is Altair, a Master Assassin, and I need to have more faith in him. I'm sure he'll make it back alright.

Even as he told himself that the entire way back to his bureau, he still couldn't help but worry over his assassin...

* * *

Altair had no choice but to run. Although he killed the guards, reinforcements arrived shortly after. He couldn't go to the bureau yet; not while these idiots were chasing him. Altair scaled a building, wincing at the strain on his injured shoulder. As he parkoured his way from roof to roof searching for a hiding spot, he began to feel lightheaded. The blood loss from his open wound was finally getting to him.

Damn it...not now!

It took all his willpower to prevent himself from passing out. He finally found a hiding spot and swiftly jumped in, the guards not too far off from his location. Altair could hear their confusion.

"Where is he?"  
"I don't see him!"  
"He vanished!"

Altair rolled his eyes at their stupidity. Sometimes he wondered how these morons made it through their training, let alone how they got promoted.

"Ah, forget about him."  
"This is a waste of time."  
"Let's go back."

Finally!

Altair peered out the curtain. There was no red in sight. Deciding it was safe, he jumped out, stumbling slightly. Once he reached the bureau, he was pale as a ghost and on the verge of collapsing. He staggered over to the doorway of Malik's office, leaning against the frame, breathing labored. The rafiq was pacing behind the counter, a very worried expression on his face.

Altair fought to stay standing. Talking wasn't easy now. "M-Malik..."

Malik looked over at the sound of his voice, his eyes widening at the sight of him. "Altair!" The assassin's arrival calmed his nerves at first, but his poor condition quickly brought back the stress tenfold. Malik vaulted over the counter and guided him back into the other room, carefully helping him lie down on the cushions. "I'll be right back with the bandages and such, so don't you dare die on me, novice!" Malik stood up and made a dash for the back room where the medical supplies were kept.

Altair would have objected to the term Malik dubbed him so often, but his consciousness was slipping. He closed his eyes, hoping that his comrade would return before his will to live faded away completely...


	5. Chapter 5

Altair opened his eyes. He was no longer in Malik's bureau, but in a Templar dungeon. The assassin jumped to his feet, or at least tried to. His wrists and ankles were bound by strong iron chains and shackles. Panic threatened to take over his mind. How the hell did he end up in here? He looked to his left and spotted Malik leaning against the bars in the cell next to his. He wasn't bound like Altair, but he looked as if he had been in a horrible fight and lost. His coat was torn everywhere, his left sleeve no longer pinned up. His right cheek was bruised, most likely from an unforeseen punch. His lip was also split and bleeding. Seeing the headstrong rafiq looking so defeated was almost unbearable. Altair's fists and teeth clenched in outrage. Whoever did this was going to pay with their lives!

"Malik!" Altair tried to get his attention.

Malik didn't seem to hear him. He wouldn't even look at him, either. Could he even see him?

This isn't right. None of this is right. There's no way this can be happening!

"Malik! Malik Al-Sayf, look at me! Have you gone deaf? Blind? Both? Malik, answer me!" Altair desperately tried to gain Malik's attention for over five minutes before finally giving up. The moment he did, however, two fully armed Templar guards walked up to Malik's cell. They opened the barred door, went in and roughly grabbed Malik before dragging him out of his prison.

"Let go of me, you Templar bastards!" he shouted before solidly kicking one of them in the gut, causing him to double over.

"You wretched cripple! You'll pay for that!" The guard still holding Malik by the arm drew his sword and plunged it straight through the former assassin's stomach.

"No! Malik, no!" Just when Altair thought he'd be sick, he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Altair! Altair, wake up!"

Was that Malik's voice?

"Wake UP, novice!"

Yep.

Altair's eyes snapped open and he sat up before greatly regretting it. The strain on his injured shoulder sent a jolt of pain through him, making him wince slightly. Altair's hood, tunic and robes, along with his weapons and gear had been removed. The wound had been treated and bandaged.

"Lie down, you idiot! You're still recovering!" Malik was on his knees, sitting beside him.

Malik was alive...

Before either of them knew what he was doing, Altair pulled the one-armed man into a tight embrace.

Malik was shocked beyond belief. This wasn't like the stoic assassin at ALL. "A-Altair, why are you-"

"I was scared..." his voice was low and sounded shaken. This concerned Malik even more.

"What do mean? Scared of what, Altair?"

"You were killed...by Templars. Right in front of me...there was nothing I could do..." Altair pulled him closer.

It was then Malik understood. "Ah, I see now...Altair, it was just a dream." He wrapped a comforting arm around him. "I'm fine, so all is well."

Altair let out a heavy sigh of relief and lied back down, but didn't let go of Malik. He held him like child would hold a precious toy. The rafiq had no choice but to lie on top of him. Altair had a vice grip even with an injured shoulder. Malik's usually stern mouth curved up into a small smile. This was a side of Altair he could never yell at...

* * *

A painful wound, Altair could take, but stinging medicine that was supposed to help it heal, well...that just pissed him off.

"Allah dammit, Altair! Stay still!" Malik was getting fed up with the assassin's constant movement. They had fallen asleep earlier, and Altair had never let go of Malik. It was an occurrence that the rafiq had only dreamed of until today. It was nice, to say the least, but it would be even nicer to know just how Altair felt towards him. Had Altair hugged him as a friend or a lover? That question was starting to bug Malik. He tied Altair's bandages a bit tighter than he intended.

Altair hissed. "Malik! Watch what you're doing!"

Malik was jolted out of his thoughts by Altair's sharp tone. He cursed when he realized what he'd done. "Hold your temper, novice. I was just thinking over something important..."

The assassin tilted his head slightly; a movement that always reminded Malik of an eagle eyeing its prey. "What's so important as to distract you from tying a bandage properly?"

Malik sighed as he finished readjusting said bandage. "Altair...how do you feel about me? Answer truthfully."

Altair met Malik's piercing gaze. This was it. The moment of truth. The assassin anxiously shifted his seat on the cushions before answering, "I feel the same way you do towards me, Malik...I...I love you."

Malik felt heat rise to his cheeks. That was the last thing he expected Altair to say. Sure, they'd taken a nap together earlier, but that didn't necessarily mean the assassin loved him. Malik supposed friends and comrades could do the same, but the possibility of them becoming something more gave the rafiq hope. Then again, he figured he should make sure Altair was being honest.

"Do you truly, Altair? How am I to know you're not just teasing me? I know that you-" Malik was cut off by a pleasant surprise; Altair kissing him, and he didn't pull back right away.

Altair smirked mischievously into the kiss before slipping his tongue in, earning a gasp from his lover. In that moment, Altair's train of thought went on a one-way trip to the gutter.

If this simple action makes him react that way, I wonder how he'd feel if I did...other things~?


End file.

Assassin's Creed, Drama, Romance