Author's Notes: Hey guys~! I know I haven't written anything in a very long time, and I do apologize for my lack in effort. However, I felt especially moved to write something like this, considering how overwhelmed I am by this fandom (and that is putting it lightly). Anyway! I do hope that this will prove to be a good read. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed and related material are currently under the ownership of Ubisoft, and I make no profit from this endeavor whatsoever other than the joy of writing it.


Uncertainly was not a common word in Altair's vocabulary.

It surely is a part of it, but not one that he, as an assassin, believes he should employ. In any situation, doubt and lack of faith will lead to demise. Downfall, or even worse: failure. Rather, that is what he had thought. But until recently, the very foundations for which he had been brought upon have been shaken. Since then, doubts have clouded – or have they cleared? – the path upon which now he travels alone. He chose this path, but unforeseen forces have moved him towards a divergence in the road where the signs that label each route are unclear. He must write on those signs. He must choose his destination, no, his destiny and leave the marker clear for the rest of posterity.

But until that momentous occasion, Altair is left with nothing but uncertainty.

The thin, airy lines of smoke, drawn delicately into existence by the incense, dance languidly in the air. They follow slow, unpredictable paths across the room, soon disappearing into the atmosphere, and Altair cannot see them anymore. Their movements captivate his attention. Staring in silence, he had noted the Dai had since not made a single noise after his arrival. The smoke was all the activity that he can gather from the next room. It has been some time since Altair first came into the bureau, and since then, he had done nothing but rest and ponder upon his situation. For all that he knew, Malik, the bureau leader of Jerusalem, could be… dead.

That thought, so irrationally composed, was enough to move Altair from his spot. Without hesitation, he moved into the next room and up to the counter with silenced hurriedness. Malik, across the counter, raised a brow.

"Why do you come in here with such hurry? Have you forgotten something?" He asks apathetically, but does not return his attention to his maps. Usually, he has shrugged off any of Altair's recent peculiarities, feigning indifference, but for now Malik decided that perhaps he should be entertained. Putting his protractor down, Malik looked at Altair and saw what seemed to be a faint glimmer of… concern written upon his face.

"Ah… Malik. I do not know why, but I suddenly realized, with such silence, that you could be dead." Altair states, uncertainty laced within each syllable. It was not until the words left his mouth that Altair realized the foolishness upon which he based his assumption.

"Such words! You do not know what you're saying." Malik quickly remarked, his eyes widen at the other's statement and waved his hand. "I work and thoroughly enjoy this silence. You should know this," he continued before picking up his protractor once more and returned to his work. Malik's statement of reason dispelled Altair's doubts, but he did not remain unscathed; the remark was biting, as were most of Malik's remarks. It left Altair without anything more to say. Seeing that is the case, Malik decided to speak again.

"…Perhaps you are too tired to realize it. Rest." He offered;, his eyes softening for only a moment before returning to his map. Despite their harsh delivery, it was not hard to see the kindness hidden behind the veil of his words. That was characteristic of Malik, Altair learned. A faint smile spread across the assassin's lips as he nodded in agreement. He did not immediately turn to retreat back into the softness of the plush pillows, however. Instead, Altair leaned faintly over Malik's counter, resting his elbow on the surface. Malik did not move.

"There is still something that concerns me…" Altair started, looking as if the next words were still formulating in his head. His mouth was slightly parted, but nothing else was delivered. Malik, realizing the assassin was in a struggle of sorts, once again turned his head to face him.

"…I do not know why I acted. With such precision. I did not hesitate." Altair continued. The sentences took effort to leave his lips. He was looking for the right word, the one that so accurately describes the mixture of panic, composure, shock and the need for decisive action. It was a similar intensity that he had only experienced when his blade met with the neck of target, but even then, the drive he had for killing his enemy somehow differed from any action he would take against Malik's imaginary assassin.

Malik stared. He tried to discern the truth behind Altair's clouded words, and once he reached upon his answer, he sighed. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Altair's shoulder, breaking the assassin's reverie he seemingly wrapped himself in.

"Humans are moved by intense emotion, Altair. That was all." He said, pulling the hand away from the other's shoulder. His gaze returning back to his map, Malik hoped the indirection of his words will not lead Altair to question and pursue the matter further. Emotion is such a broad term. It can describe any feeling, in any saturation of thought. It is as how one perceives it, and that task he left upon Altair to decipher. His own emotions must be removed – that – Malik was certain of.

"Yes… perhaps you are right." Altair resigned. He turned to look at Malik's map, noting how unfinished it looked. How is it that it could be so unfinished, if Malik had been working on it for the entire day? Moving his eyes up to Malik's hand, his arm, his shoulder, his neck and his face, there was a complete tiredness apparent in his person. The Dai, relieved that Altair became satisfied with his answer, took up his device one more. In this uncomfortable silence, Altair simply watched.

"I am unsure if it is the same emotion, then… that moves me to say this, but in my rest, can you join me?" the assassin asked, but did not dare to make eye contact. Turning to look at Altair now with the same confusion that had engulfed him earlier, Malik's shoulders relaxed. He did not smile, but he did not frown either.

"…Very well, Altair."

While many paths have opened for Altair in this time of great turmoil, he realized that there was another he would soon be treading on. This route, too, is veiled with clouds of uncertainty and indirection. However, as he retreated back to the welcoming pillows alongside Malik, he realized it was a path he will not tread alone.