A/N: This is a rewrite of my first Assassin's Creed story, Didn't Mean It. I'm just going through my older things, cleaning them up a bit. I haven't changed any of the circumstances I'd assumed in the first writing of the story, just wrote it better.

I totally still stand by my headcanon that Malik's eyes are gold and Altair's are grey.

…

Altair's landing isn't the quietest one, but Malik's back still greets him as he leans against the doorframe, his form silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight. The rafiq either hadn't heard or is ignoring him as he reaches for a book, the stub of his left arm dangling uselessly at his side. Rather than stand and stare Altair offers him a simple, "Safety and peace, my friend."

Malik pauses at the sound of the assassin's voice, but otherwise pays the words no heed, pulling down the text and flipping through the pages.

"What is it?" Altair asks, pushing himself from the frame and moving into the darkness of the bureau. A fox's grin has found its home on his lips. "Are you not pleased to see me?"

"Leave me alone, Altair," Malik sighs it, not even looking up to speak in that dismissive tone of his.

"But I need to speak with you."

"Oh?" that gets his attention, and Altair is met with an expectant golden stare. "What about?"

"I came to… to apologize." The rehearsed words taste bitter in his mouth; he doesn't apologize, ever. "It was my arrogance that got Kadar killed, that—well," with a nod to the severed arm. In Altair's eyes, noting it aloud just puts more guilt on his shoulders.

Malik's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching in a way that the younger is definitely familiar with. "Don't act like you understand, Altair, because you don't. My brother did not ask for death—I did not ask for this," the words drop heavily into the warm air as Malik gestures to the empty space to his left. "Yes, it was your arrogance that caused this. Congratulations for realizing that. But a simple apology cannot make amends for it."

"What more would you have me do?" Altair doesn't intend to sound like he's pleading, but he's honestly attempting to put this behind the both of them as quickly and painlessly as possible. His hidden blade slips easily down his wrist, a quirk he'd picked up years ago in response to stress.

Malik knows that quirk well, and is quick to notice it. "What is it that's upsetting you? Are you angry at me for not accepting your piss-poor apology? Or is it regret that you're feeling?" Altair hadn't noticed when the rafiq's face got so close to his own, but he has no choice but to notice when that lone right hand grabs a fistful of his robe and yanks him down. "You don't know the meaning of regret."

Those golden eyes search Altair's face, and he watches it happen, wondering if anything but rage could be going through Malik's mind. He may have gotten his answer in the way the elder's voice changes when he says, "Of all the people to betray me, Altair… why did it have to be you?"

Altair has less than a second to think of a reply before Malik's face is impossibly closer, and he places a ghost of a kiss to the assassin's mouth. Barely another second passes before those golden eyes widen in shock, matching Altair's grey, and he lets that fist of robes go.

But rather than settle for shock Altair takes it a step further, to disgust, shoving the rafiq back with both hands and storming from the bureau.

It isn't until he's halfway across Jerusalem, high in the air above the bell of a church, that he realizes he hadn't meant it.