15. Hours
Hatim had the bad habit to dissapear without warning, which left Altair two choices. Either patiently wait for his return or be enough of a fool to go search the man.
It always took hours to find him, but Altair managed every time.
16. Days.
On some days, Altair wasn't sure if Hatim truly loved him. On some days, the man seemed to toss him aside or just leave him with no good reason, just for the sake of putting some distance between them. On some days, it all would go to shit.
On other days, Hatim loved him like there was no tomorrow.
17. Weeks.
The weeks passed slowly when Hatim was gone out on missions in other cities far away. Now, Altair had no choice but to wait for his lovers return, hoping that he himself would be present when he arrived. He would then occupy himself training on his own, people keeping their distance without really noticing, it seemed a natural thing to do. And Altair impatiently waited for Hatim's return.
First they would fight in the training ring and then in bed. That thought kept him occupied for weeks.
18. Months.
One week. Two weeks. Three weeks. A month. Two months. That was how long it took Altair to ask someone about where Hatim had gone to.
"Oh don't you know? Our brother Hatim has found a wife and settled down in Maysaf! She's already in her first month of pregnancy," the informant had cheered, and it had made Altair want to rip his troath out.
Every month that passed devastated him more than last. The seventh, he dared to go into the city and search for Hatim, finding his home by asking some merchants. When he entered without knocking, he was greeted by the sight of Hatim sitting in the darkest corner of the room, a bed set up with flowers on the opposite side. Altair walked over to the bed, seeing the woman's body underneath the thin blanket and knowing by instinct that it was dead.
"Safety and peace," he muttered to the corpse before leaving , not looking back at anything or anyone inside, dead or alive.
20. Years.
Altair was working at his desk, a candle lit to give him light, and he was trying hard to make the words readable on the paper, concentration written all over his face. There was a giggle underneath the table. He heard small shuffling sounds and a childish giggle again, and he peeked under his chair, pulling out a squirming and laughing boy. Held at arms length, the child was visibly enjoying himself, ignoring Altair's scowl.
"What the Hell are you doing here again?" Altair muttered none too friendly, "Hatim! Hatim he's here again!"
Hatim came through the door and took the boy away from Altair, much to the kid's delight who squealed and laughed as if he was being tickled, hitting the Assassin on the back of his head.
"Ow!" Altair rubbed the sore spot. "I know he has a name but I can't be bothered to say it every fucking time!" Hatim hit him again. "Ow! What the fuck-" Hatim shot him an angry look. "Alright, alright, no swearing, I get it. I get it."
It took Altair years to get used to the little bugger Hatim's wife had born at her death and sometimes he doubted the man's decision to keep the boy. It took so long to name him, even longer for Altair to say it. It was just that every time he looked at Rasheed, he was reminded of that time Hatim had left him for a woman. He had not quite forgiven the man yet.
Hatim was babying the three year old boy, who giggled and tugged at his father's beard, shouting 'Baba! Baba!' over and over again. Altair studied Rasheed's small and round face.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if he's even your son. He doesn't look like you at all."
Hatim's eyes wandered from his son to Altair and he made no sign whatsoever to mock or dismiss the thought, instead he turned to bring the boy to bed. Altair was left puzzled and confused to what that was intended to meant, but he shook it off and went on with work.
It took him another few years to notice that Rasheed's eyes were oddly familiar to Al-Mualim's.
