High above the rooftops of Jerusalem, the assassin held his hand out to let the eagle land on his gauntlet. From beneath his hood, his dark eyes studied the bird with pride, its weight comfortable on his arm. With his free hand, he gently stroked the feathers on the back of its head. The eagle blinked at him, studying him as if knowing what he was doing. It was as if the regal bird held a thousand years of knowledge inside it, as if it knew the assassin inside and out.

His eyes moved from the bird to the people milling around on the streets below. From such a great height they looked like ants, tiny little ants scurrying around their tunnels. None of them had any idea that he was up here, none of them had any idea of what he was about to do. The glint of armour caught his eye and he watched as a troop of guards pushed their way through the crowds. It always made him smile at how apparently switched on these guards were, but the truth was they really were not. A sensible person would not have tried to take him on, yet these guards always did, and always ended up running away holding back vomit.

Alas, that was the work of an assassin.

But today, the guards would not care what he was up to. His latest target was not anyone high within the ranks of society, but rather a man who had been going against the Creed of the Assassin, putting the brotherhood in danger and disrepute, assassinating people in the open, people who had done nothing wrong whatsoever. This person, calling himself the 'Nightwatchman' was a danger to assassins everywhere. Assassins had a part to play in the wider world, had to work within the world and make things work, and when someone like the nightwatchman came along, it could all be ruined. But the guards would not care about this one, it was said this rogue assassin was based in a small building down the backstreets of Jerusalem's middle district, somewhere where the guards did not go. And from his high vantage point, he knew exactly where to go. Not far away, down a darkened alley he had spotted someone in a black hood look around and pull a blood stained white feather from his cloak.

Altair knew exactly where to go.

Sparing one last look at his friend the eagle, he held his arm out and let the eagle take flight. For a moment, he watched as the beautiful bird soared through the sky, before taking a leaf out of its book and launching himself from the top of the tower. His white Assassins cloak billowing around him, he watched as the bale of hay got closer and closer before he hit it, landing with a soft bump.

The landing always dazed him somewhat, despite the fact that he had done it thousands of times. He stayed where he was for a moment, waiting for his head to clear before hopping out and blending into the crowd.

This was one of the hardest parts, moving throughout the busy city trying not to be seen by the guards. If the worst came to the worst he could always disappear by blending in with a group of scholars, his white cloak providing the ultimate disguise. But alas, there were no scholars around. Instead, he bowed his head and clutched his hands together and moved slowly through the crowd of Jerusalem's poor, avoiding all eye contact with the guards.

He disappeared into the darkened alley, mindful of the crazy man that was wandering around in a circle muttering to himself. The place was just a few steps away, it's door slightly open on its hinges.

He hardened his face, felt his hidden blade keen and ready against his wrist, as he gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He was greeted by a tidy little room, a shabby wooden table in the centre of the room with a candle half burnt in the middle of it. In the corner of the room was a little wooden pallet with a blanket draped over it, obviously being used as a bed.

It was these human touches that made his job so difficult.

He could smell food cooking somewhere in the house, could hear someone singing. It sounded like a woman. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what a woman was doing here when he had been sent after a man.

After a moment, the singing got closer and from a room at the back of the house, a dark figure stepped out. He had no time to hide himself as there came a shocked shriek of alarm and the crash as pottery fell to the floor, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces. He looked up suddently, at the person who was so obviously terrified.

And he raised his hand to his mouth, sure that he was seeing a ghost.

"Altair?"

That voice was so familiar, one he had not heard in many a year. The person, the woman, stepped out of the shadows revealing the face of a beautiful young woman, long dark hair framing her pale skinned face.

"Katherine?"

She moved forward, a small smile on her face, "This is a surprise Altair…what brings you here?"

"I…" he sighed and removed his hood, revealing his more darkened face from hours spent in the hot sun, "I came…to…"

This was unlike him. Usually he was so confident.

"Let me guess…" she smiled and sat down at the table, "You were sent here by the bureau to assassinate the nightwatchman…to assassinate me…"

He sighed, looking carefully at her pale skin, her beautiful features. How could this angel be the nightwatchman he was sent to kill? This girl, who had been a part of his life for so many years, could not be his target.

"You are the nightwatchman?"

She looked at him with her big brown eyes, "Yes Altair, I am the nightwatchman…but do not believe the stories told my the bureau…I help people Altair, I follow the creed. They want me dead because I am not part of their little club, because I am a woman…"

Altair sighed once more and sat down beside her at the table, "It has been a long time since we last saw each other Katherine…since the day I first saw you in Masayaf...that strange quiet little girl who had come from England so far away…"

She smiled, "You were my only friend Altair…I had no one else, alone in a strange place. And you looked after me, you showed me the ropes…you protected me when Al Mualim wanted me out of the way…"

"He wanted you married off to a man who would turn you into someone respectable…"

"And you put the silly old man in his place…" she smiled, "Told him you would rather marry me yourself…"

He did not return the smile, "I would have…but my first priority was to get you somewhere safe. We knew the crusaders were coming…they would have taken you back to England…or killed you…"

She nodded, "And right now, I wish they had taken me back…Altair…will you really kill me?"

With a sigh, he averted his gaze from her, "I have been ordered to kill the one known as the nightwatchman, and now I find out that it is you…I do not know what to do Katherine…if I do not go back to the guild with that bloodstained feather, I will be cast out of the brotherhood…but Katherine…how can I assassinate you, my oldest friend…? Katherine, how can I do this to you…?"

"this one is down to you Altair…you say you want to protect me…and the way you talk tells me you had feelings for me…or maybe you still do. I don't know Altair…"

He sighed, flicking his wrist so his hidden blade showed itself. He watched as the metal gleamed in the low light of the house. She was right, he did have feelings for her, would take her away to safety and end his career as an assassin. His mind raced as he tried to work out what to do.

"Maybe it would be better for the both of us if you did kill me…"

His mind was still racing as he reached inside his cloak and pulled out the bright white feather. He could always stain the thing with his own blood, take it back to Al Mualim and then disappear. But they would find him, and assassinate him.

He stood up after a moment and raised his hood once more before taking her hand and kissing it gently, "I would take you away from here Katherine, we would live somewhere safe and quiet…"

"But they would find you Altair…"

"Not if they don't know you still live…"

He pulled his short knife from its sheath and grabbed her arm, "This may sting a little…"

He drew the blade over her skin, not even flinching as she hissed in pain. As the bright red spots of blood welled on her skin, he ran the feather over it before placing it safely back in his cloak.

"Always so professional…" she muttered.

He grabbed her other arm then, "We must leave now…we will go to the port not far from here and there you will wait for me. When I return, we will board a boat and we will leave this place…"

She nodded, not protesting as he dragged her from the house and through the streets. His aim was to return to his horse outside the city gates, where the two of them would ride to the shore and he would keep her safe. He knew what he was doing was risky, but he wanted her out of harms way. He did not care that he was going against the creed, against the brotherhood. Some things were more important.

The streets as expected were busy, full of people and guards going about their buiness. As he dragged her through the streets, he attracted stares and comments from passers by, but he did not care.

"ALTAIR!"

He skidded to a halt, instinctively pulling the girl behind him, and turned. Stood there, flanked by five or six assassins from Masayaf, was Al Mualim.

"Al Mualim…" Altair's voice held no feeling whatsoever.

"I trust you have completed your mission?"

Altair nodded, reached into his cloak and pulled out the bloodstained feather. He handed it to the old man, who looked at it for a moment, "This blood is still fresh…you have done well…"

"Why come and check on me…"

Al Mualim's gaze fell on the girl behind Altair's back, "Katherine? It has been too long my child…come here, let an old man see your face properly…"

She gazed at Altair with wide eyes, who nodded. She sighed and stepped forward, obviously midfull of her wounded arm. Al Mualim pulled her towards him, looked at her for a moment before nodding.

"I know what you are girl…" he gestured at his flanking assassins who immediately stepped forward and grabbed Altair's arms.

The old man pulled the girl close, noticing as Altair struggled, "Altair, I knew you would not do this. I knew it was Katherine I was sending you after. I was right, you failed me…"

Altair noticed with horror as the blade extended from Al Mualims wrist and with quick sharp precision, buried it in Katherine's throat.

"KATHERINE!"

The cry that escaped Altair's mouth was full of pain. He fought against his brothers fiercely, breaking their grip and running to where the girl had fallen to her knees, coughing up blood. He pushed Al Mualim out of the way, knocking the old man over and fell to his knees beside Katherine, taking her gently in his arms. She was fading fast.

"Altair…" her voice was weak.

"I'm here Katherine…stay with me…"

"I'm dying…"

He felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks, not caring that Al Mualim and his men could see him, "I know…"

"It looks like…" she coughed, more blood appearing at the corners of her mouth, "…I was assassinated after all…I'm sorry it was not you who did it…" she coughed again, yet more blood spurting from her mouth, her voice getting weaker. There came a horrific rattle from her chest, "…Altair…thank you for being such…a…good…fr…"

She never finished her sentence, the last word fading into nothingness as life failed her. Altair gently laid her down and closed her eyes before standing up, not bothering to wipe his tears. He glanced at Al Mualim and the assassins, his hand on the sword at his side.

"I say goodbye to the brotherhood…"

"Then you say goodbye to your life Altair…"

"You will not kill me…"

"Will I not?"

Altair growled and turned away from him, "No…because you know I would kill you first…"

But he knew what was coming. He heard them running for him as he unsheathed his sword and turned, quick as the wind and sliced through his adversaries. As the blood dripped from the blade, he faced off against them determined to end the life of the old man who had caused so much pain and suffering. There was every chance he would not make it through.

But he had to.

For Katherine.