It was never enough; every single time he reached out the harsh words would force him back as dark eyes stared him into submission. His actions were kind and all an attempt for him just to look at him with that look they used to share, those smiles without lips. Not that anyone cared for that sort of thing at the top, being the best was supposed to be far more important than sharing something special with your best friend. He could never understand such a thought, he was lonely being the best and it only brought him more trouble in the long run; he wanted Malik to smile at him again.
In the darkness of a late night in Jerusalem he snuck silently into the Bureau, the rug under his feet catching most of the noise that would have alerted the man just in the next room of his presence. Never really worked though, within a second Malik was stepping out of his small room with a dagger in hand. His stance was always battle ready and something sharp ready to lash out be it a knife, the hidden blade or his tongue. Upon seeing what he considered the bane of his existence he took no pause before tossing the knife in Altair's direction, savoring the hiss as the metal cut into the man's cheek.
"As always you let your guard down when you visit here, know that the next time you do I will not hesitate." The words Malik spoke with poison were no lie; Altair knew the man would keep to his word. Both men headed inside, the bed set up in the corner still dented with the weight of the Dai who had been resting there. Altair drew a breath of the incenses that filled the air before sinking into a chair far from Malik and lulling into a light sleep.
Malik did not head to sleep immediately, instead lingering over a map he had been working on during the day that never seemed to get done. It was always this map too, this map that had splotches and repairs because it was out when Altair made his stop to the Bureau; some things never changed even over the year. It hadn't even been a summer since Malik lost everything and had to deal with this hate seething inside of him for the very man sleeping under his watchful eye. Altair still trusted his 'brother' to watch over him as he slept, it would be nothing for Malik to kill him now and take revenge for the lives that were taken from him.
Malik considered it every time Altair would come unannounced in the night like this, his face drawn tight with pain and the smell of blood clinging to his robes. Yet the moment that the warmth of Altair's skin reached his, the grip would wane and his arm would drop, all the pain coming back from that day. The knife would silently fall to the rug and the pain would shatter his resolve, hand gripping his stump as if it was the very day they had to amputate the remainder of his arm. Malik always would try, the knife the very same as the guards and placed ever so carefully into his robes so only he would know but it never worked, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
All he could do was stare desperately at his unfinished map and count the accidental marks, recall just what had been said to make his hand waver so. This night he continued the village just outside the main road, only half done for so long and now was a good time to work on it, Altair was asleep and his attempted murder was safely in the past. The smell of ink was comforting; the dark marks under candle light taking his mind far from the pain and emptiness. An old song came to mind, humming from his mother aiding him to sleep in the cold of winter that had robbed him of her; so much had been taken from him but all by things he had no control over.
He had been wrong to assist Altair when that cocky child went after De Sable, the artifact was their goal not the death of the man. He could have remained out of sight, lead his brother around the enemy and out of harm's way but still he jumped down to protect him; how could he have been so wrong? Altair was another assassin not his blood, brother in name and nothing more; he had sacrificed his own brother and status for a man who only just now began to do the world a kindness. The ink ran thin, in his anger he had forgotten to dip his pen and even make note that the village was now a scribble of words barely marking his thoughts on paper.
Malik pushed the map to the side, having quite enough of this paper being subjected to his anger, it had done nothing to him and it was worthless if it was turned into a book of his own ramblings. It was enough to anger him to another attempt, the knife back into his hands and feet taking him before Altair without hesitation. Malik's thoughts were malicious, 'only a little more before he can no longer bother you', 'just kill him, the knife is not yours'. The knife was there, a breath from cutting into Altair's throat and ending his torment; just a little more the voices whispered.
He could not, those gray eyes flecked with gold opened slowly; not accusing but sad. Altair was very aware what Malik had been doing every night he rested here; he had known since the first time he had stepped into the Dai's new home that Malik wanted nothing more than to kill him. Even with this knowledge he came, even from as far as Masayf just to rest in this place hoping Malik would finally take his revenge and stop hating him. If in death he could make Malik smile it would mean so much more than his life ever could; this life had taken a brother and ruined his friend's life. It was worth years of torment and torture; it was worth death for Malik to finally stop hating him.
No words were spoken when Malik dropped the knife and grabbed his missing arm tightly, eyes tearing up from the pain of so many things including the hatred he held in his heart. Altair slid to his knees, hands reaching slowly for the edge of Malik's robe and gripping softly to the thick fabric. Malik kicked at him, bare foot coming into contact with the armor across Altair's stomach; he let out a grunt but didn't let go. Malik began to kick harder and even faster, his toes aching from striking the leather but it helped hearing the pained grunts forcing their voice from Altair's throat. Finally when those hands fell from Malik's robe and went to cover the angered flesh did Malik stop, he took a sharp breath and made his way to his bed. Silently watching the assassin pull himself back to his feet and dust himself off; they stared at each other for a moment before Malik turned himself from Altair. Both settled for the night and slept.
In the morning Malik was not shocked to see Altair gone, the assassin knew better than to over stay his welcome but honestly he would have liked to inspect the injuries he had given him. Despite wanting the man dead it was not his place to interfere with a mission, and if the scrawl that was Altair's hand writing was to be believed then he would be on a mission today and would not be stopping by to sleep under his watch. It was shockingly lonely knowing that Altair would not be visiting him today; his days were spent stressing when the man would return but when there was no worry of it the day felt boring. The gossip brought to him by the birds did nothing to entertain him and his maps were going unfinished more so; the redrawing of the map from last night only half done.
He longed for anything that was a deviation from the norm, that was the only thing Altair was useful for, he brought with him the aggravation of inconsistency; he never knew when Altair was going to come nor what trouble he was going to bring with him. Speaking of trouble, the bells were ringing, the guards began yelling from the street just outside; only when there was an assassin in town did those bells ring and it would mean that something was wrong. There were no assassin's here today, the bureau was locked for the night and any assassin desperately trying to find a haven from the guards would be likely caught trying to get in.
Malik debated with himself a moment, he did not need to place himself in danger for a novice that forgot to send word to the Dai that they would be in the city but it was his duty to house all brothers under his domain. After much internal debate the answer was made for him by a heavy knocking on the ceiling opening and the smell of blood filling the small area. As the Dai of this place he was quick to get to the opening, unlocking it and allowing the door to swing freely down, the body on top of it tumbling onto the stone below. Even with the one arm Malik was very agile, climbing upside down on the vine covered opening with, using his legs to hold on while his arm shoved the door shut, sliding the wood into the lock and keeping his eyes open for the guards that were sure to come.
Only after making sure there would be no guards did he drop to the floor, bracing himself in an awkward position to accommodate the body under him, Malik cursed and had to use all his power to still himself against kicking the man below him. It was Altair, the very man who swore earlier that day that he would not be returning to the city was under him with an arrow through his shoulder and bleeding all over his floor. Malik did not wait for the man to stop moaning before he hauled him up onto his shoulder, taking slight pleasure in the swearing and hisses that came from the so called master.
It never failed to annoy him when a brother would drop in with their blood dripping all over from a wound that could have been easily avoided given the slightest effort, especially this brother in particular. Altair never made an effort to stay hidden when completing his task, always rushing out and alerting all guards to his actions; Altair crumpled against the table as Malik slid him onto it before heading to his desk in search of his medicinal items. Every groan and whine the younger of the two would allow, would make Malik's rage swell, as much as he enjoyed seeing the man suffer it only served to remind him of the attitude that had cost him his arm and brother. No words were shared between the two when the Dai settled in a chair and began tearing away at the man's clothing; it was clear Altair had some of these wounds for quite a while.
The cuts were deep and the arrow shifted violently causing even more blood to stain the white robes; it was no wonder why Altair never had the mind to do anything right, there wasn't enough blood in his body to serve his brain. It didn't take long to reduce the 'master assassin' to his pants and boots, the arrow removed and its pieces forgotten on the side; the sheer amount of injuries was enough to sway Malik's decision to let the man bleed to death. Malik only sighed feeling his sense of duty win out but held onto his personal feelings just enough that when he began applying the salve he dug into the injury just to hear the cries.
It took hours to finish Altair's upper body; so many jars of salve wasted and from the looks of his ever shrinking spool of thread that was going to waste as well. If Altair would only lay there and refrain from tearing out his stitches, but no he kept trying to sit up with the needle still in Malik's hand and only damaged himself more. After the seventh stitching he performed on the same cut Malik just grabbed a jug of grain alcohol and forced Altair to drink it, Malik was delighted to see that the younger had still such a weakness to the drink as he passed out in record time. While it made repairing him, like an old rag doll Malik noted, easier he found he hadn't the foresight to see that he would have to get the man out of his pants without help. The Dai let out a heartfelt groan seeing that there was a fairly dangerous cut along the man's outer thigh not to mention the little things that needed disinfected.
A limp Altair was even more a pain than a conscious one was, he weighed far more than necessary of a man of that size but Malik just tilted his head to the side with the realization that it was likely their training that made him so heavy. His poor table, creaking as he forced Altair to roll onto it and settle face down onto the smooth surface; Malik felt bad again seeing the light surface darken with blood and staining it so deep it would never come out. His blood was as stubborn as the man was, working its way into everything in Malik's life despite his best efforts to keep him out. Once the limp assassin was truly settled Malik went after the boots, hoping to retain some of Altair's attire so that he could send him on his way once the wounds scabbed.
Malik knew that this would happen, the blood cooling and making itself into glue so that removing the pants would exponentially grow in difficulty; sense of duty damning him. Even in the dark he could navigate himself to the fountain of spring water that appeared never ending, only he would really know but it did freeze in the winter and he had to collect the snow over a fire to retain water for daily use. He soaked the fabric in hand with the water and returned to his patient, who had awoke from his drunken sleep and was once again making a nuisance of himself, the groaning was tolerable but the moving and yelping was not. Altair rolled onto his side, Malik cursing him violently as he forced the assassin back on his back; he only allowed Altair to roll over after getting his pants off.
In the soft light from his candle from across the room Malik could finally see why Altair was fighting his treatment so much, not many a man could stand the pain this man could but this might be an explanation as to why. The smell of arousal was thick and mixing with the smell of blood, very familiar from his days at the castle with his young peers as wards of the Brotherhood. Somehow the Dai was readily willing to believe that this man was sexually excited by pain, all of the stupidity and bad decisions making sense if the man needed pain to curb his animal lust. After all, Malik was similar, inflicting pain made his loins tighten slightly and killing a man brought satisfaction that only the warm arms of his woman should.
Malik scoffed, tugging the tread in Altair's wound tight and causing his patient to hiss in agony; women were not worth his time, only his brothers could ask of him and they did not demand much of him if they did at all. Aside from this brother, the one who toke and toke only to give agony in return; Malik tied off the stiches and moved onto the salve and bandages. Even the simple task of wrapping bandages a feat; Altair groaned and cracked open his eyes granting him the context to hold the edge of the bandage. Malik worked quickly expecting him to pass out once again; the assassin didn't and managed to help the Dai finish fixing him up. It had been hours, the night wasted and the sun tinting the world in a blue hue of pre-dawn. Altair covered his shame and asked softly for a blanket, Malik granted him that and proceeded to clean up.
Well 'clean up' was a loose description as he simply gathered his tools before filling a bucket with water and splashing down the worst of the blood; he wished to clean more but he was exhausted and the stains would take many hours of effort to clean.
"Thank you Malik…" The words hung the air, neither accepting their existence as their meaning was still up to interpretation, never was one to thank a brother for their duty because it implies that they would have performed differently. The Brotherhood was raised to believe as such; Malik had let it cross his mind quite often to do the exact opposite of those teachings but Altair had no right to acknowledge it as such. The Dai knew these words were not meant in this sense but he could not erase the bitterness from his mind, he had tainted his own mind with such thoughts and they were beginning to taint Altair's intentions.
Malik crawled into bed, adjusting his rolled pillow quickly before facing the wall, away from Altair who still lay on the table fumbling with the blanket edge ever so softly.
"What right have you to say such things?" The words were poisonous, cutting painfully into Altair's heart more than a blade dipped in venom.
"I…" Altair tried to say but stopping as his ribs and body ached, the breath escaping him.
"I would lose all that I still own if you died in my care; I will give anything to keep you alive as long as you are in my city." The Dai spoke softly, hearing the birds of morning singing just outside; Malik was drifting but he muttered about the Bureau being open for the trainees that were coming. Altair gasped out a reply but both were already slipping into deep sleep.
It was afternoon when Malik finally awoke, Altair shockingly still lying on his table dosing in the cool of the room. There was no knocking or bells, the city was as silent as any other day which was odd… Malik was out of bed and dressed in his heavy robes in record time, searching the room and Altair for evidence of something, the Bureau was safe and locked. He paused, closing his eyes and sniffing the room from the center; a smell was different, the smell of a young boy's sweat so thin and fearful.
"You are a poor student, you have been caught and your self-imposed challenge has been bested." Malik was kind, his words light in heart; from the other room stepping in a recruit, one that Malik was to be entrusted with before the beginning of this summer.
"Apologies brother, but the others tease and taunt me because I fear visiting you." Malik chuckled, this boy was named Saleem and unlike the man on the table this boy was careful, that acting against him within the eyes of his trainers and peers but winning over Malik in record time.
"As always there is no need, you are my favorite visitor." Saleem saluted his brother, his hand tight in a fist across his heart and respectful in his tight stance. Malik was in brighter spirits, Altair all but forgotten; this boy and he talked for hours of maps and training and the beauty of order, until the sun began to set of course.
"Safety and peace brother…" Malik smiled as Saleem blushing softly as he stumbled over himself.
"Safety and peace Saleem, remember that Templars never rest and you will need to be careful riding back." Saleem smiled brightly and took his leave, scaling the wall with an occasional slip. Malik was kinder around his brothers and especially around Saleem, who he could not deny reminded him of Kadar… He wasn't trying to replace his brother; this boy was just so much like him and unlike him in just the right ways. Malik frowned at his thoughts but was soon distracted by another; Altair was still lying there with breath even, too even for a man that would be in so much pain.
"Your ruse has ended Altair." The man let out a pained gasp only to greedily suck it back in, a chuckle mixed with a groan escaped the man as he sat up.
"Your laughter woke me, it is a sound I have missed hearing." He desperately tried to remain sitting but quickly fell back to the table, Malik needed only but a glance at the bleeding to know that Altair had once again torn open all the work he had done, wasted all those hours he spent.
"I wish it had not, your body is not that of a doll and thread will not keep you together." Malik gathered his supplies, threads and needles still stained with the blood from the night before, disgusting. He filled a bucket with water and threw the needles in, running his fingers slowly over the shafts to rub the blood off. This blood melted away incredibly easily; Malik set the water and clean tools to move onto the bandages coated blood that had blossomed from Altair's wounds.
"Forgive me Malik…" Altair gasped out, remaining very still waiting for Malik to cut away the bandages im order to stitch him back up. He knew better, enraging Malik truly a terrible thing especially with the threat of poor stitching and death at the hands of a blade; despite the words the Dai had said before their sleep. Then again it seemed to bring the man pleasure to revel in such annoyance; boredom is truly the cruelest of torture.
"Were you truly sorry it would not continue to happen." Practiced hands cut away the soaked bandages and they were tossed aside into the bucket of already soiled water, a small cup of clean water was dumped over the opening in some attempt to clean it. There was no more salve to spread over the opening, Malik's displeasure left a sour taste in his mouth. So much wasted on this silly man who refused to remain still even while in so much pain.
"This shall be the worst stitching I have to offer, you will remain still until you have healed enough to leave." Malik warned as he began to sew the skin together, it would take a long time for those repeated tears to heal, a minimum of days. Should he be required to watch over Altair alone he would certainly loose his mind.