Maria separated herself from the crew after dinner going to a quiet corner of the small boat. She sat on the deck with her knees bent in front of her looking out into the night. The moon cast a long silver reflection over the still water's otherwise black surface and the gentle rise and fall of the boat coupled with the sounds of the water lapping against the side of the boat had Maria as close to relaxed as she had felt in a long time.

Limassol was now far behind them. They were aboard a small fishing boat sailing for Acre; from there they would begin a journey to India. Altaïr had suggested they travel together and knowing how much easier it was for a woman to travel with a man, she had agreed. It still felt strange to her, to be with him not as a prisoner but as a companion. The assassin was sitting beneath a small lamp scribbling away on his parchments and not for the first time Maria wondered what he was writing.

In some ways he reminded her of Robert, both were mentally strong, born leaders but where Robert had been outgoing and charming, Altaïr was far more reserved. He seemed to be blessed with an almost endless patience which on occasion annoyed Maria although she supposed patience was more of a necessity than a virtue to an assassin - all those hours waiting for targets – it still bothered her that she hadn't managed to rattle him, to make him lose his cool. It didn't really matter what she thought of him, she had made her bed.

Once Maria had shown him the location of the archive and drawn her blade against her former brothers she knew there was no way back, and all that was left behind were broken dreams, doubts and a tentative alliance between her and a man who she thought of as her natural enemy. She was no longer sure what that really meant. She had considered herself Robert's closest advisor yet he and his conspirators had schemed right under her nose, her believing his half truths. What else between them had been based on lies?

She shivered and drew her knees closer to her body, wrapping her arms around them. It provided little comfort against the cold sea air and none at all against the chill she felt inside.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?"

She turned her head to the assassin watching as he put away his writing apparel. Another thing she often wondered about. What exactly did he carry in all those pouches?

"Well the deck of a ship is hardly the most comfortable place to make a bed for the night, and God that smell! Let me tell you it will be a long time before I eat fish again."

He smiled knowing it would be only a matter of hours before she was doing just that.

Moving to sit beside her in order for them to speak without disturbing the crew he asked, "You have been unusually quiet Maria, is something troubling you?"

His query earned him a rueful smile, "I think we both have our fair share of troubles assassin. At least the worst of mine are over but while you have the apple yours will never be over."

He acknowledged the truth of her statement with a nod but said nothing. After a moment of silence – for Maria it was almost never comfortable - she looked him over. In the moonlight his robes looked slightly less tattered... a little whiter. As always his face was in the shadow of his hood and Maria decided she'd had quite enough of the silly thing. Leaning toward him, her face directly beneath his, she tugged the front of his hood up exposing the upper part of his face.

She was delighted to see a look of pure surprise on his face, "Oh, there you are."

He smacked her hand away from his hood, readjusting it, "What are you doing?"

"I'm tired of talking to a piece of material. I understand your need for anonymity but I ask you, must you always wear it? We are in the middle of the ocean; nobody is here save us and half a dozen fishermen."

"If you wanted me to lower my hood you only had to ask, ambushing me was excessive." He shifted uncomfortably, his mouth turned down reflecting his obvious displeasure.

"It was hardly an ambush, and you are a fine one to talk. It's not as though I kidnapped you and dragged you back and forward from one island to another."

He blew out a long slow puff of air.

"Assassin, are you sulking?"

"I most certainly am not!" His slightly indignant tone only increased her amusement.

"Then take the bloody hood down and talk to me in a civilized manner."

Altaïr narrowed his eyes at her but of course she couldn't see that. He was suspicious of her reasons but then he was suspicious of her a lot of the time, she had often proved to be unpredictable. How could his hood affect her ability to converse with him? But then he knew he had little regard for social niceties, perhaps he was being rude.

Maria grew tired of waiting to see what he would do; her gaze returned to the water. She wasn't really bothered by his hood but it felt like a good way to prod at him. "We seem to have fair winds; we should be in Acre the day after tomorrow."

"Probably a little after dawn, we may have to find accommodation in Acre for a few days. It will likely take some time to get our journey underway."

Maria gently nodded, "I have rooms in the rich district, or at least I did... I'm sure you can find lodgings in one of your local lairs and if not you can stay with me. If we are to travel together it might be a good idea to find out if we can stand being around one and other."

"We seem to have managed quite well up to now."

"The difference being I have a choice now, I'm not your prisoner anymore."

"You had that same choice on Cyprus and you chose to join me."

She turned to him to reply but her breath and her intended retort got caught in her throat. At some point he had lowered his hood and for the first time she found herself truly face to face with the man. The first thing that struck her was his youthful appearance, his maturity had given her the impression he was a good ten years older than he actually looked.

Then it was his eyes, although she was sure the odd gold speckles in them were simply a trick of the lamp light, she had to admit the effect was impressive. She chuckled when she noticed how wild his hair was, probably because of the hood it was sitting at odd angles, sticking up in some places, flat in others. Yes he was handsome, not her type but undeniably attractive.

She realised she was staring and worse giggling, "Your hair... you look like you've just crawled out of bed."

He roughly ran a hand back and forth over his hair and the end result must have been comical because she laughed. The sound was oddly satisfying to him as was the notion that she hadn't found his appearance unappealing. Neither said anything for a time and Altaïr decided to use the silence to steer the conversation back to something he actually found interesting.

"You were right about the apple being an ongoing problem. I am as yet unsure how best to handle the artefact. I had hoped the archive would prove to be more useful to that end but alas that was not to be. I'm certain there is much information to be gleaned from it but I must proceed with caution. Al Mualim was a strong man yet we know how easily he succumbed to temptation. "

"He didn't really succumb though did he? Was he not one of the original conspirators? Yes he ultimately betrayed Robert, but his goal was always to use the apple as he did... to control the populace. You at least seem determined not to fall into that way of thinking."

He considered her words but said nothing so she continued, "Make no mistake if I have even the slightest notion you are using that thing as Robert planned to I will do all I can to kill you. I never betrayed my people to instead be ruled over by you and your kind!"

"Me and my kind?" His mouth twisted as though saying the words tasted bitter. "I expected better from a woman who went to such extreme lengths to escape being thought of as a kind. Not having the ability to see people beyond their race, creed or even gender is exactly the type of narrow minded thinking that caused this war."

Maria, never having been very good at humility bit her lip trying to think of something to say, to talk her way out of it without backing down. Having had quite enough of the assassin always being right, she didn't relish the prospect of him being so again.

"You misunderstood; I was referring to you and your brotherhood not your race." Slightly shame faced for lying she suddenly found her boots incredibly fascinating.

Unconvinced Altair considered whether or not to confront her. She thought of herself as being different to him and in his experience different was just another way of saying superior. Had he been wrong about her? From the beginning his intuition told him she wasn't the enemy, her actions had since confirmed that to be true. But her words were small minded, shallow even. Had he been so impressed by her strength of character that he was then blinded to her flaws?

"Even if that is your true meaning it is petty at best. If not for my brothers and I, you would still be aligned to a faction, whose intentions when fully revealed would have troubled you greatly, and any part you played in their plot -however unintentional -I believe would distressed you. Would it then be too much to ask for you to show less disdain for the people who saved you from this fate?"

"You sanctimonious prick!" she practically hissed, since shouting was out of the question. "You can't judge me. You and your brothers killed on the command of a man whose intentions were no better than Robert's. The order you serve was just as compromised as mine. You dare preach to me, you who practically kills all Templars on sight."

Disappointed at how the conversation had gone, he made one last offering, "If that is true then explain to me why you are still alive, Templar."

Like all good scrappers Maria knew when to fight and when to run, "I don't want to talk to you anymore, I'm going to sleep." Pulling her cloak around her body she moved to the spot previously occupied by him, "However at a more suitable time I would love to learn your reasons for my continued existence."

"When I know, you'll know."

Since she "No longer wanted to talk to him" a reply was neither expected nor given.


The following morning Altair learned another thing about Maria, she was true to her word. She really didn't want to talk to him; to the extent she would blatantly avert her eyes when he happened to enter her line of sight. For a short time it amused him but he soon tired of her behaviour.

She got up to walk around in what little space there was to be found and he deliberately put himself in her path, "How long are you going to keep this up?"

When she tried to side step him he moved with her, taking hold of her forearm. "You're being very childish Maria."

She slapped his hand from her arm just as she would an annoying insect, "I'm being childish! I'm not the one blocking up the only passageway on this smelly little boat."

"The reason for us taking this journey together was to open our minds to a new way of thinking, to gain a better understanding of each other's culture. Along the way we are bound to cause offence and when we do I would hope we can behave like adults and resolve it without resorting to immature fits of pique."

He had hoped his words would have some positive effect on her but the gleam in her eyes warned him he had got it wrong.

"You are right of course, how childish of me to try to avoid the man who ruined my life! Well since you demanded we talk it seems only fair I choose the topic, yes?"

Already regretting his decision to engage her he nodded.

"Learning about your culture is an excellent place to start. I have many questions but I suppose my main one concerns your name it, well, it makes no sense. Son of None... that to me suggests bastard but I'm not sure if it's meant in the literal sense or as I believe can sometimes happen, it was a name given later in life to reflect a particular talent or trait."

He made no response; never having mastered the art of talking through clenched teeth.

"Is something wrong, are you unhappy with your given name?" an exaggerated sympathetic look now replaced her smile, "I can instantly improve upon Ibn La Ahad; hmmm let's see... how about Ibn Il sharmoota?"

His face was thunderous but he remained silent.

"To be honest I think either would be perfectly appropriate, seeing as how you are both a bastard and a son of a bitmphhh"

Her last word was muffled by his hand pressed firmly over her mouth. "Don't finish that sentence, not ever. I had hoped that once you no longer saw me as an enemy we could in time, be friends, it appears I overestimated you. You are a vindictive, small minded woman."

He let his hand drop from her face and walked back to "his" part of the boat.

Behind him Maria's grin was now entirely real; finally she had managed to rattle him!


He was standing almost exactly as he had been since their earlier encounter. Back straight and shoulders stiff, he was definitely angry. Well luckily for him she was now thoroughly bored and ready to make up.

She was perfectly aware she had been in the wrong the previous night and her reaction to his grabbing her had been a little excessive but she wasn't a woman who enjoyed being grabbed and the sooner he learned that the better.

She approached him as if nothing in the world was wrong between them. Wishing he wasn't wearing his hood, he looked far more human with it down.

"Would it help if I apologized?"

"Apologies are only meaningful when they are sincere and you, Maria, look anything but sorry."

"I tried to avoid this happening; I kept out of your way. You were the one who decided to force the issue. Not allowing me to pass, grabbing me and forcing me into conversation, you tried to intimidate me."

He sighed but it sounded more like a growl to Maria, "I was not trying to intimidate you I was trying to reason with you. Obviously a mistake, since you seem to be somewhat unfamiliar with the concept of reason." He made to walk away from her but she caught his sleeve, halting him, he slowly turned his head back towards her, his jaw tight, his mouth a thin straight line. If she hadn't known it already, that look warned her to tread wary.

Still, she held her ground, after all he had literally stabbed her and she survived what were daggers to her now?

"I am sorry for the comment which implied a slight on your Mother that was uncouth. I can say in my defence it was directed entirely at you, It was only later I realised it could viewed otherwise. And as for last night, I was wrong; however I intended my comment, it was indeed petty. I'm not sorry for calling you a bastard though, that is my honest opinion of you."

This caused no softening of his expression, "Your partial apology is partially accepted."

She smiled at him, somewhat satisfied then waited for him to speak. But his continued silence made her feel uneasy so she prompted him, "It's your turn."

"My turn to for what exactly?"

"To apologise for calling me vindictive and small minded you are sorry you said those things?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No!"

Was he being serious now, it really was impossible to tell?

"Peace?"

"Maria, how am I supposed to make sense of this? How you react to me changes from one moment to the next."

"That's understandable since how I feel about you changes from one moment to the next." Taking hold of his sleeve she led him to a small step, sitting down she nodded to the space next to her and waited for him to join her. "I do want to learn about you; your life, and your culture, why wouldn't I, you're an assassin after all how many people can say they know an assassin?"

"Every assassin knows at least one other, although I'm unsure of the exact number."

Maria was stunned; did he just make a joke? Not a particularly funny one at that. "That was a piss poor attempt at a joke assassin; stick with what you're good at, killing people, kidnapping and uh, killing more people..."

"You forgot back stabbing and lurking." His smile although not exactly earth shattering certainly improved the view for Maria, sitting on this foul smelling boat, all she had to look at was the crew hauling nets from the Mediterranean and the occasional island.

"You wanted us to talk, so let's talk. What would you like to talk about?"

With no hesitation he said, "I already know why you left England and how you disguised yourself as man, what I don't know is why you decided to live as a woman again."

"I didn't make the decision it was made for me. My deception was exposed, so to speak." As she began to relate the story to him she unconsciously crossed her arms over her breasts, telling Altair that whatever he was about to hear was not going to be easy for her to tell.


Translations

Ibn Il sharmoota: Son of a bitch/whore

A/N This chapter has had so many re-writes I doubt it's what I set out to say, I'm publishing now before I make it any worse. Thanks for the reviews the feedback is much appreciated. The next 2 chapters are about Maria, her discovery and her eventual teaming up with Robert. I tried to make it 1 chapter but it wants to be more. I have to warn you thought things get a little meaty, currently editing to make it a little more rating friendly.