"I'm proud of you, my boy."
Those were the words Tazim would never tire of. He'd be blessed if he ever did get to hear them.
The young man lost his father when he was but a child. Tazim hardly remembered him but the memories that remained would be cherished.
He found himself wandering in his room, sitting at his desk and reading through a book. The young man seemed to be busy. Too busy.
"Tazim." he heard from his door.
Looking away from his book, the young man turned in his chair. He saw his father by the door.
It couldn't be.
But it was. Malik stood, a tired and calm face yet he held his chin up with pride. His dark hair with scattered gray and white strands. The man's eyes were alert but held a warmth in them like fire.
"Father," he said in a mere whisper.
Malik nodded his head towards his sons book. "If you are busy, I'm sure this can wait."
The younger man shook his head. He shot straight up and closed his book.
"No," he said, "I'm never to busy for my family."
Tazim walked over to his father. He took long strides as his robes swayed with him.
He stopped once he was right in front of his father.
Malik gave him a strange look as he held up a brow. Was his son going crazy?
Tazim felt his eyes grow watery but looked away and cleared his throat. The tears that tried to seep out eventually disappeared. He would not let his father see him cry.
He turned his head and looked to his father once more.
Malik was a just a half inch shorter than his boy. The other man also looked slightly taller because of his hair, he'd need to cut it, and soon.
"What do you need help with?" Tazim asked.
Malik scoffed. "Help? What makes you think I need help? You are the one who needs help." his father told him.
Tazim sighed and chuckled, "Fine, what is it that you need?"
His father wouldn't want anyone's help anymore. He said that even in his old age, he was still capable of many things.
"I'd like to simply talk with my son today." Malik said in such a quiet voice.
Was his father really whispering? Was Malik embarrassed of showing some true emotion? He must've been.
Tazim held back a chuckle and simply smiled.
They each went back into the young man's room. Malik sat on the bed while Tazim went back to his desk and sat in his chair, facing his father.
They each felt comfort with the silence between them but eventually Tazim was the one who spoke after thinking for a few moments.
"I always thought I'd go on assignments with you. When I was a child I always fantasized of the day I would stand by your side and fight." Tazim admitted.
He held his father in high regard. Malik was a hero, a god even. As a boy, the young man craved for his father's presence.
All that had been cut short as Malik had been killed. Beheaded. Now was the time to change things, to admit his true feelings and show his father that he only wanted to make him proud.
Malik was alive now and this was the best time to fix things.
"You knew I was pulled from field work. I wouldn't have been able to fight alongside you," Malik told him truthfully. He sighed before looking his son over, "You've grown into a fine man, Tazim."
The younger man felt the words pound into his soul. His father meant so much to him, as did his words.
Tazim was still slightly in shock. His father was in front of him, they were having a conversation as adults. It was surreal.
Was his father really alive or just a ghost, a fragment of his own imagination.
"I can't believe you're here." he breathed out.
Tazim gave his father a sad smile and Malik returned the gesture. His eyes were calm and loving.
The only time Malik ever let himself become vulnerable was in front of his family, his son. He'd let his defense go down just for this boy, his boy.
"Mother always waited by the door after we fled from Masyaf. I never knew why at the time." Tazim started to say.
He was no longer speaking with Malik's physical representation. He was speaking to his father of his own life after Malik was killed.
"I wondered why you never came home after that. I'd play in the dirt while she sat, looking up into Masyaf with worry in her eyes," he explained, "She cried sometimes, she missed you."
"I have missed you, father."
That's when he broke, Tazim's voice cracked and he held back a sob.
"I've spent every waking hour of each day in training, I just wanted to make you proud," his bottom lip quivered and his brows met together as his face held pain, "make you proud so you would come back to me."
Malik gave his son a look with pure love. He always did and always would care for him.
"I thought that maybe if I did something right, you would come back to us. To me and mother, but you never did," he said as he stifled a sob and brought his head down.
Malik came over and put a hand to his sons shoulder. It wasn't much but it would reassure him that his father was there.
"Can't you just be proud of me and come home?" he whispered between gasps.
Tazim was now choking on his own tears, he gasped for air as he tried holding back his sobs.
"I've needed you all my life. You were never there. I just want you to come home, baba." he managed to say through the tears.
Malik helped his boy up and sighed. "I can't come home, you know that." he explained.
The older man held his sons chin up. Things happen, all you can do is adapt.
"Cruel things will happen for unknown reasons." Malik said in the softest voice he could muster.
Seeing his son this way tore him, it hurt him deeply. Watching your loved ones be in pain is the worst kind of punishment.
"But why, why must this hurt so much? I just want you back." Tazim said as he wiped away his tears, not wanting his father to see him so weak.
Malik shook his head, "There are many people who will put you down Don't be one of them." he told his son.
Tazim couldn't hold it back for much longer, he pulled his father into a hug. Malik was caught by surprise but wrapped his own arm around the younger man.
"I am proud of you, my boy, and of all that you have accomplished."
Tazim felt himself engulfed by the familiar warmth of his childhood. How he would spend time with Malik. Follow him and try to be like him in any way possible.
Malik would be proud to say that Tazim had grown up to be a fine man. One who would make any father proud. His Tazim, his son. The independent, the brave. He still had so much to live for.
A hit to his head brought him out of his dream as Tazim jerked awake. He'd fallen asleep with his head resting on his hand, gravity thought otherwise as his head slipped and hit the desk he was sitting by.
"Pleasant nap?" he heard a voice beside him.
As he rubbed his sore head, Tazim looked to the source of the voice and saw Altair who was sitting beside him, reading on his desk.
"I'm sorry." he said.
The older man was reading through scrolls and writing on parchment.
"You mumble when you sleep." Altair said, his eyes never leaving the writing. "Your father would not approve. Although, he also mumbled in his sleep as a young man."
Tazim shook his head to wake up. Why the sudden talk of his father?
He dared to ask. "Why suddenly bring up my father, master?"
Altair chuckled as he kept writing on pieces of parchment and reading through his scrolls.
"Like I said, you mumble," he said smoothly, "He's proud of you. I know it. As am I." the older man said with a smile on his scarred lips.
And Tazim believed him. It was time to say goodbye to his father. He'd made him proud and that was that. He smiled and helped Altair up.
"It's late, time to rest." he told Altair.
They each held a strength within them and Altair couldn't help but think that Tazim was a clone of his old friend. A reincarnation of the man.
As Tazim walked, he now felt at home, here with his family. His father would always be with him, through thick and thin, and he would be proud.