Forgiveness

It have been a month, a month since the incident in the Solomon temple, a month since he lost his left hand.

A month since his brother's death

Holding a compass in hand, Malik tried to concentrate on the task in hand, redrawing the maps to mark some new discovered place and newly made building. But it seems that it is impossible to do so.

Especially when that man is here.

Altair has been sent here by the order of Al-Mualim to look for his target, one of the 9 leaders of the Templar. Malik doesn't even bother to hide his annoyance and despise to him, snapping at him and insult him. And now, after finishing his task, Altair opted to stay here for a night.

Deciding that he couldn't finish his task now, he raised and get ready to go to bed, locking various doors around the Bureau. And as he passed the entrance, he scoffed at the sight before him. Altair, curled up on one of the pillow, his sword lying beside him.

He walked to the door, locking and making sure that it's secured. And as he passed Altair, he stopped for a moment, crouching down and observing the sleeping man's face. Altair surely is tired, drowned in deep sleep, he didn't even aware of the presence in front of him.

He looks like a child…

Malik realized, standing back. Altair surely look alike an innocent sleeping child. That child who have been his friend for years. That child who he trained with in his novice years. The child who have been his partner in hundred of missions.

The child who killed his brother

A sudden surge of rage makes him drawn his dagger that he hides in his robe. Hand grasping the hilt of that metal tightly. Stalking closer to the sleeping figure, he raised the dagger above his head, ready to plunge it into the chest of the sleeping man, when a sound ceased his entire move.

Altair's face has grown into a grimace, brow creased, and mouth pressed into a thin line. But it is not the face that has stopped Malik dead in his track, it is the voice. A pained whimper, a begging like sound which tore away from the man's throat. It is highly unfitting for him, considering his ability to kill without mercy.

Malik swallowed, finding it difficult to bring fluid to his dry throat. The dagger still held up high above the head, but he could not find the strength to bring it down. He just stand there, watching as Altair curled up into a ball as if he wants to disappear, hands pulled to his chest, clenched tightly. Then another whimper waggled its way out, but this time accompanied with words while grief and regret coated it like wax

"I-I'm s-sorry… I'm s-so s-sorry…"

The dagger clattered on the floor, screeching as it was kicked away as far as is could be from the two figures. Malik's hand reached to the assassin. And when he touched him, the man jumped up, his eyes opened wide. Terror, grief and regret filled the once steel golden orb. And as he panted for breath, tears rose and drenched his pale cheeks.

That sight of Altair shocked Malik to the core, never knowing the suffering that the younger man has behind the cold mask that he wore. He reached again, this time managed to grasp the assassin's hand, and pulled the figure to him, hugging him tightly.

For a second, silence enveloped both of them. Then heart -wrenching sobs resounded in the place as the assassin let out the pent-up misery his heart in flood of tears, while sliding down into a kneeling position, his feet suddenly lost all of energy to even to stand. Malik followed, letting the broken man cry on his shoulder, draping his arm on his shoulder in consolation.

After awhile, Altair starts to talk. "I-I'm s-sorry Malik, I'm s-so s-sorry…" he sobbed. Malik's heart lurched painfully in realization of what have put the man in pain, at the grief that clung to the man's shoulder like an invisible weight. Malik tightened his hold on the man, "shuss… it is okay, Altair… it is okay"

"It is not, Malik. You've lost your brother and your hand, because of me… I deserve to die…" Altair choked out between sobs

"No, Altair. I've heard your apology, that is enough…" replied Malik in soft voice. Honestly, it is not the apology that makes him decide to forgive the man, it is the deep grief and regret that accompanied it, and the sorrow that have latched itself to the figure. The pain is visible to be seen in him, like invisible scars caused by word that is not considered first from him and the fellow assassins.

I guess that is all that matters…

Tears slid out of his eyes, making a single wet line on each of his cheeks. "I must apologize to you too, Altair…"

"w-why mu-"

He silenced the man by pointing at the dagger, now lying at one of the far corner. "And also for all of the mistreat that me and the other assassins have done to you…"

Altair was silent for a while, safe for some occasional sobs that lurched itself from his throat. "No… y-you don't need to apologize, I-I deserve it, for all of the things I have made… I deserve worst"

Malik growled, tightening his embrace. "Altair, listen to me, if I have forgiven you, you must forgive yourself, do you understand?"

Altair didn't answer, but Malik feel him gave a hesitant nod on his shoulder. Sighing, he lowered Altair back to the pillows. "Get some rest Altair, you have mission tomorrow…"

But as he stood up, a hand held his arm, halting his moves

"P-please… S-stay"

Malik was frozen to his place, his heart once again lurched painfully. Altair's voice was so broken, so small. The man suddenly seemed so small, so fragile instead of what he really is.

"p-please… don't leave me alone" the plea once again sounded.

Hesitant no more, he sunk himself to the pillows beside Altair. "I won't go anywhere…"

He pulled Altair into his arm once again, his finger traces a soothing circle on Altair's arm. He felt the man relax and his breath evened out, indicating that the man have plunged into a, now peaceful, deep sleep. Smiling softly, he too, closed his eyes and drifted into sleep .