Warning: does contain violence, swearing and some sexual content.

FYI: I'm re-doing chapters with the help of my new and wonderful beta Cheea5.

Malik didn't notice that his leg was bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as he sat on the kerb outside his apartment. It was funny; he had done so many things in his relatively short life, and had never been as nervous as he was now. Neither the sound of the odd car rolling off the tarmac of the road, nor the sound of the bookshop bell ringing as the door opened and shut, could calm him down. Not even Altair, who lazed at his side, could make the butterflies in his stomach stop fluttering.

"Will you please stop, you don't get this nervous ...ever, even when we're about to go on a mission." Altair mumbled, as he rested one gloved hand on Malik's knee to try and stop the bouncing. He was right, this nervousness was foolish and stupid, but that didn't stop it. Malik scowled at the road lines, but didn't reply, just listened to the buzz of Altair's earphones as he listened to music a bit too loudly. Moving his ear closer he could just about make out the guitar that only belonged to The White Stripes 'Seven Nation Army'.

Altair sighed, taking his hand from Malik's knee to take a swig from a can of coca cola, before adjusting his hood against the sun. From today onwards things were going to be different. Not only was there going to be an extra member in the small apartment he shared with Malik, but it just happened to be Malik's brother- younger by ten years- moving in. Taking care of a teenage boy was hard work anyway, but taking care of a teenager Malik hadn't spoken to for nine years, whilst keeping what they did a secret, was going to difficult.

"It's going to be fine; Kadar will be what... fifteen? He'll be mature about it." Altair said, uncertain if he was comforting Malik or himself. Truth be told, Altair knew a lot about Malik's history, and another truth was that he was at fault for the one thing Kadar would hold against Malik... him running away at aged sixteen.

"No it's not Altair, Kadar is bound to ask questions and what will I say? Sorry I haven't spoken to you for nine years, I ran off with my best friend and joined a group of assassins working for the government to try and take down templars?" Malik whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

"Well, you don't have to be that exact, just say you ran off because... oh I don't know, you wanted to be with me and you knew your family wouldn't approve" it wasn't a whole lie, Malik's family- or what was left of it- wouldn't approve of his relationship with Altair... but that wasn't the reason he had ran away.

"Oh please, don't go turning this into a tragic romance drama, you and I weren't involved back then." Malik rolled his eyes, irritation clinging to his words. Altair shrugged in an 'I was just trying to lighten the mood' way, before plugging his ears again and returning to the music.

A few miles down the road

Kadar stared out the window of the car, watching the cityscape blur before his eyes. His social worker had given up on idle conversation about ten minutes ago, allowing the radio to mumble to itself in the background. Now and again she would glance over at the teenage boy to see if he was okay.

Kadar knew they thought he was an odd case, there had been so many deaths in his family and he was still yet to cry. They had put him on counselling for a period of time, but they decided it wasn't doing anything so they stopped. Kadar was the quiet one, doing whatever he did in silence, although he was prone a violent flash- proven when he had locked one of the children into a store cupboard after he had said some things- apart from that, he was stoic to the world.

But inside, Kadar wished his grandmother was still alive, that he wasn't off to go and live with his brother who he hadn't seen since he was six years old. He really didn't want to be going to live with him, but Malik was the only other A-Sayf they knew about, so it was either that or live in the orphanage. After the weeks he had spent in that place... living with Malik didn't seem quite as dooming, almost. Their mother had died shortly after child birth, their father died when Kadar was two from cancer and their last remained grandmother had died of old age three weeks ago. Malik hadn't been in his life for nine years, and he had few memories of him.

One memory was so strong in his mind. It had been the day Malik disappeared and Kadar had been waiting by the gates of his school for someone to pick him up. He had been six at the time and whilst his friends walked off with their mothers, he sat under a tree, book bag slotted under his arm as he watched the road. Sometimes his grandmother would forget about him and by the time the play ground was deserted, Kadar got up and started on the dangerous route home. He had been walking for about ten minutes when a black car pulled up beside him. The base of the speakers could be heard from outside on the pavement, and Kadar kept walking. Stranger danger was ringing in his head. But the passenger door opened and Malik jumped out.

"Kadar, why aren't you home." He said going over to his little brother and crouching. His clothes, torn and dirty, stunk of smoke and gasoline, his hands was rough and split. The six year old looked up into his brother dark brown, almost black eyes and said,

"No one came to pick me up, so I started to walk." Malik smiled fondly, ruffling his brother's hair before stirring him towards the car.

"Don't worry, me and my friend will give you a lift." He said, opening the back door and allowing Kadar to climb in. the car also stung of smoke, maybe it was because the guy who was behind the wheel had a cigarette in one hand and was dangling it out the open window.

"You remember Altair right, Altair say hey to Kadar." The driver turned in the seat. He had a hoody on, hood pulled up to hide his features, but the scar going through his lip was very noticeable. Kadar had only seen Altair once, when he had crashed at their apartment several nights ago. Grandmother had told Malik that Altair wasn't welcome in their home, nor was he allowed to associate with him, but Malik always did what he wanted to do.

"Hey twerp" Altair said, saluting with the back of his gloved hand. They drove home and what puzzled Kadar the most was that there wasn't any keys in the ignition. They pulled up outside the tower Malik caught hold of Kadar's shoulder before he walked through the car park.

"Don't tell Nan about this, you walked home on your own, got it?" Malik looked so demanding and quite scary at that moment that Kadar hastily nodded. Malik smiled and hugged him briefly before getting back into the car. Kadar watched it disappear into the night, not knowing that his brother wouldn't be coming back.

A few miles up the road

It seemed like ages had passed. Altair had gotten hungry and gone to get a subway. He offered half his 'steak and cheese' sub, but Malik declined. He wasn't in the mood for meat and dairy in a soft warm bun. Instead he sent Altair across the road to get him a take away Greek salad in one of those plastic tubs that held a free plastic spork in. Altair was leant against his shoulder, half asleep when the churning of tires on the tarmac alerted Malik's ears. He jumped up from the kerb, jolting Altair awake.

A silver estate car pulled up along the street and turned the hazard lights on. That was the trouble with living on the side of the road, no parking spaces close by. Kadar looked out the window. The tall guy in the white hoody had to be Altair... so he was still at Malik's side, funny how things work. Malik stood next to him, slightly smaller but still tall, Short, messy, black hair, tanned skin, thick stumble on his chin. Kadar knew that was his brother, his twenty five year old brother who he hadn't seen since the night they drove him home.

A/N: I started writing this in the car whilst on my way to my brother's graduation. I wanted to try and write a modern AU that wasn't that bad. It will get better I promise so please stick with it for a while. Please review.

Ps: so keys in the ignition of the car, hmm what did those two get up to back then. A 'spork' is a cross between a spoon and a fork