A/N: First Assassin's Creed fanfic.. EVER. I couldn't get to write anything; now that I have, I feel great and ready to keep on writing. This is set before Majd Addin's funeral and the confrontation with Maria. On with the read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed; it all belongs to Ubisoft.

Sleep didn't come easily that night.

After awakening five times in a row, Altair climbed up to the roof of the bureau to get some air. Despite being a heavy sleeper, a bothersome feeling of uncertainty was depriving him of rest. It had been lingering inside his head ever since his last talk with Malik, letting itself be forgotten and right then making itself known again. There had to be a reason behind it, Altair was sure of that, but he couldn't figure it out yet. This was another puzzle he was unable to solve for the moment.

Being so engrossed in his thoughts didn't make him any less alert to his surroundings. Altair sprung to his feet when he heard footsteps approaching, those of a free-runner walking upon wooden planks. His first instinct was reaching for his waist, but only then he realized that his sword was inside the bureau, so he drew his hidden blade and waited in the shadows for the stranger to come. It was no stranger, though, but Malik himself, jumping over the last few rooftops before reaching the entrance of the bureau. A thought suddenly struck Altair: there were no other entrances to the building, which meant-

"Did you honestly climb the wall by yourself?" Altair blurted out, revealing himself. Malik took a step back while raising a blade, a defensive stance he dropped when recognizing Altair.

"I haven't lost practice, if that's what you were imagining," said Malik, sheathing the blade. "I still have another arm and my legs are well trained; it would be foolish not to make use of them. My abilities are limited, but I haven't lost them all."

A commendable attitude. Altair had seen some assassins become crippled in combat, which then led to their abilities become similar to those of a novice due to loss of practice. Malik had lost an arm, one of the essentials for a good free-runner, but unlike the others he hadn't given up. Perhaps it was that determination what would make his skills far better than anybody else's.

"You should be resting, Altair."

"Likewise, my friend." He looked up at Malik. "Why are you awake?"

"This is when I practice, but today a late night errand required my attention," Malik said, then glanced at Altair with a suspicious tilt of his head. "I was under the impression that nothing was able to trouble your sleep. What keeps you up?" Before Altair could speak, he added, "And it obviously isn't 'nothing', else you wouldn't be here."

Altair shook his head. "I feel uncertain about something and I don't know what that is. I've tried not to give it much thought, but it won't leave me alone."

"Is there any way I can help? Or would that be too much for your ego?" Malik inquired, intentional bitterness in his tone.

"I've left that behind," Altair snapped, defensive, even slightly offended, as he sat down next to the bureau entrance. Malik smirked, took a seat in front of Altair and regarded him with an inquisitive look. Clearly, Malik was testing him, like all those times before with those exchanges of barbs and jibes, to see if he could get a reaction from the rash Altair, but he knew better than that. It was a test that he accepted and into which he put all his efforts; it was a part of his training, after all... his new training.

"I don't know if you can help, to be frank," Altair said after the pause. "Perhaps it's something I must deal with myself. Still, your company is appreciated."

"Even if it rattles you?"

He'd left a damn opening for Malik to use. Altair felt a knot in his stomach, but his expression betrayed nothing. He was half expecting Malik to have a triumphant smile upon his face but when Altair looked at his companion, he saw a gleam of sympathy in Malik's eyes.

Malik snickered. "Novice..." He was even close to laughing. "You forget that the walls you built around yourself in the past are no longer standing. Don't think I haven't noticed your nervousness throughout the whole evening, especially when talking to me."

That's when Altair understood the reason behind his uncertainty. So much for Malik not being able to help him work everything out. "You've never been one to easily forgive people, Malik." And I had thought you would never forgive me, Altair would've added, if it wasn't for the fact that his words had been eloquent enough.

"True," Malik admitted without reluctance, "but in a moment of clarity, I realized that living with hatred is tantamount to being dead. Besides..." Altair curiously looked up at Malik when he made a pause. Malik sighed before continuing, "I decided to give you a second chance."

Altair was more shocked than relieved at Malik's words. A second chance? Why?

It was as if Malik had just read his mind, because he said, "I told you before: you aren't the Altair who went into Solomon's Temple. You have changed, and I suppose learning everything once more has been enough punishment for you... because it hasn't been the same as before, has it?"

"It certainly hasn't," admitted Altair with a sigh. "I could not know that I would make it, only suspect. That piece of advice has been helpful."

"It makes defeat a bit more bearable, though it's not something you should abide by," said Malik, light amusement in his words. Altair looked down again, this time to hide a small smile. Finally, his nervousness was gone, awkwardness did not loom over their conversation. Altair laid down, arms outstretched, looking up at the sky. He closed his eyes, felt the cold night breeze against his face, and sleep seemed about to take him when-

"Perhaps my brother was right, after all."

Altair's eyes snapped open; confused and uneasy, he slowly sat up straight again, fixing Malik with a wide-eyed look. Hearing Malik speak of his brother in front of him was something Altair thought he'd never be around to witness. Altair put his knowledge to good use and remained silent; none of his words would give Malik another reason to show reluctance. He wanted to leave his daring behind and listen, let his silence be his request for permission to speak. Still, he was curious to know, so after choosing the correct words and tone in which to say them, Altair asked, "In what sense exactly?"

"He saw you with different eyes, innocent ones that were not tainted by enmity or envy like mine," Malik replied, the briefest of smiles upon his face. "Kadar spoke nothing but praise of you; where he saw virtue, I saw only fault. He wasn't as struck by your arrogance as I was; he could simply see past it and glimpse at the true Altair."

"Had any of you an idea of how I was?"

Malik shrugged. "My brother gave me the first impression, something I discarded. I have a hunch now; the other Rafiqs have told me much of your change," he said, "aside from what I have seen myself. Maybe, with time, you will prove Kadar's suspicions correct."

Altair smirked, a gesture that barely succeeded in hiding his anguish. He'd known Kadar more than anybody else -aside from Malik of course- not because of what he said or didn't say, but because of how he acted, of how he looked at Altair. The youngest Al-Sayf had held his superior in the highest of regards, like Malik had said, without being put off by his arrogance or blinded by his own admiration. Kadar had been a truly remarkable person, a fact and a realization that made Altair lower his head in shame. He'd already apologized to Malik, but said gesture of humility had only opened a wound that would take more than time to heal. No apologies could bring Kadar back.

'It matters not how we complete our mission, only that it's done.'

Altair bit his lip so hard he thought he'd draw blood, and he suddenly wished he had his hood on He'd learned many things thanks to his work, but there was one thing it would not teach him: how to leave his mistakes behind. He couldn't help looking back, though, for if he didn't, he would err in his ways once more.

He who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.

"And if I don't?" Altair couldn't help but ask the question. Malik shrugged again, nonchalantly.

"Then you will prove mine... again."

Altair soon found himself smiling widely. "I'll do my best not to accomplish that, then."

"You'll have to try, novice."

"I'm not a novice," Altair growled, frowning.

Malik smiled slightly. "You'll remain a novice in my eyes as long as I see fit. And now I outrank you," he added, jabbing a finger at Altair, "so do not question me."

Altair was floored, mouth slightly open in surprise. "You really are enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

Malik's smile widened. He was silent, but his eyes conveyed a clear message: You have no idea. If this was how being treated like a novice by Malik was like, perhaps Altair could get used to it... until he turned the tables and it was the other way around.

After a few moments, Altair silently took his leave. Fortunately for him, he was asleep within minutes.