Safety and Peace

Malik lay on the bed, staring at the window. It was all over. His life would never be the same. His brother was gone, his arm was gone, even his identity as an assassin was stripped from him. However, worst of all was that his best friend was to blame for his suffering. Altair, the man he trusted the most. He no longer knew what hurt more, his stump of an arm, or his shattered heart.

Altair, on the other hand, was hurt for another reason. Stripped off his title, his respect, he was nothing but a novice, now. Novices looked up to him! Not the other way around. He only had a hidden blade to his name.

"Altair! It is good to see you are awake," Rauf said. "I assume you've seen Malik?"

Altair furrowed his brow, "For what would I need to see him?"

"You don't remember? About his...arm?" Rauf said.

Altair was silent, "I – remember. Where is he now? How is he?"

Rauf tried to smile, "Weak. But recovering…Slowly. One can hear him call for his brother in pained sleep."

Malik heard voices on the other side of the door. He didn't even turn to look. He longer cared if he lived or died. Altair entered the room, quietly. Malik lay bare from the waist up on the bed, his stump hanging over the edge of the bed, with fresh bandages, it seemed like. A blanket was pulled up to the middle of Malik's chest. He watched Malik knocking in and out of consciousness.

"Malik. You're alive," Altair said.

Malik clenched his teeth, eyes narrowed in pure rage.

"To be truthful," Altair sad, "I expected you to have bled to death-"

"I bet you would have enjoyed that. No witnesses to your numerous blasphemies against the Creed, and your failure to retrieve the ark," Malik snarled spitefully, trembling with badly restrained anger.

Altair raised a brow, "You misunderstand, brother. Your wounds were bad. I expected worse. It is good that you are not dead."

"What exactly is so good about me being alive? I'm stripped of my rank, my brother and my arm because of you! You are not my brother!" Malik yelled, turning to face Altair with eyes full of pain and betrayal.

Altair stepped back, eyes flying to his feet. "You are not the only one to suffer. My rank…My respect…They have been taken from me as well. Be thankful," Altair growled, "you had family."

"Yes, had. My brother trusted you. I trusted you! Why don't you at least save me from my future suffering and just kill me!" Malik cries. Angry tears filled his eyes as he started coughing hard from the stress he was being put through.

Altair set his mouth in a thin line, and turned to leave, "You forget one of our tenants, brother. 'Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent'."

Malik coughed up blood, letting out a choked sob as he reached around with his only hand for a knife he had hidden under his pillow.

"I hope you will come to value your-" Altair said.

Malik grabbed the knife and pulled it out, moving to slit his own throat.

"Malik!" Altair shouted, diving for Malik's hand. "Are you insane?"

"Let me go," Malik sobs, thrashing weakly to get away from Altair.

Altair squeezes Malik's hand until the other man can do nothing but drop the knife. Pressing Malik's hand down on his pillow, Altair glared at him.

"I will ask one more time, Al-Sayf, what are you doing?"

"I want to die...I have nothing left...Nothing…" Malik whispers, going limp and coughing quietly.

Altair stepped away from him, sitting heavily on the nearest chair.

"Fine," Altair said evenly. "If you want to kill yourself, I won't stop you."

Altair picked up the knife, turning it in his hand, then pointed the hilt toward Malik.

"You are the one who swore to never die to that brother of yours. You may not remember that far back, but I do."

Malik slowly grabbed the hilt of the blade, staring at his reflection.

"To think," Altair said, "you would disgrace his memory like this."

Malik continued to stare before hearing a small noise. The window slowly opened and a templar soldier slips inside.

"Malik? Are you listening?" Altair said.

Malik suddenly threw the knife, hitting the Templar right between the eyes. The Templar slumped to the floor, his sword slipping from his hand.

"We're under attack – you must go...Brother…" Malik said quietly, looking towards Altair.

Altair clasped Malik's hand one last time. "Safety and peace, brother"

Altair quickly made his way to the window, slipping through, and heading for Masyaf Castle.

"Yes, safety and peace..." Malik whispered to himself.

Author's Notes

Dark: This is another first for me. I have never done Assassin's Creed fics before...I hope I was able to capture the emotional turmoil that Malik must have experienced after losing so much of his life thanks to the person he considered a friend and comrade. I certainly tried my best ^_^

Snow: lol, I love writing jerks. Don't get me wrong, I love Altair. I wish I could have him. Damn you Malik. er. Maria. In AC1 Altair kind of had a habit of talking before thinking. Sooo I incorporated that into the story x3