"Put your sword away, and I will not harm this boy. I'm only here to pay a visit to my wife..."

Umar smirked. "Not happening you scum."

He ran forward and three men came towards him. The fourth stood holding his knife against Altaïr's throat.

The men drew their hunting knives, but were no match for Umar, who was used to wielding a sword. He slayed them easily and kept looking at his son from the corner of his eye.

When the last man laid dead at his feet, he turned around with a triumphant smile, opening his mouth to challenge the last of the men.

But he turned around just in time to see the man cut Altaïr's throat.

Altaïr's eyes widened in shock when his lifeless body fell to the ground.

Everything faded in front of his eyes.

His dad… had failed him…? But he trusted him… He didn't want his life to be over now…!

Breathing heavily and drowning in his own sweat, Altaïr sat up in his bed. His eyes nervously darted around the room, only to end at the empty bed.

Kadar…

He tried to calm himself and rubbed his hands over his face.

Had Kadar felt like that as well? Trusting Altaïr would rescue him, but… He had failed…?

Altaïr shivered and felt tears burning behind his eyes.

Tears.

Something he thought he didn't have anymore. But over the last days it had become clear to him that he wasn't as emotionless as he thought.

It was impossible, how he had so unconsciously grown attached to the younger assassin. Altaïr had realized that the boy had always been there for him, and how often Altaïr had told him to shut up or leave him alone. He felt so guilty… It was his fault. He had been, yet again, too arrogant to think before he acted. And now, the price was high…

Altaïr pulled the bed sheets to his face and allowed the tears to leave his eyes.

Silently, he cried.

Without a word he helped carrying the food in the inn of Oliver and his wife Corrine.

"Just a few more barrels of beer. Be very careful with those, Altaïr!" The innkeeper laughed at the Syrian assassin as he carried one of the barrels already in the direction of the tavern. Altaïr walked back to the cart where the barrels laid on and barely paid attention to the smaller man.

Altaïr had been living like a ghost lately. He felt sad, depressed and hollow.

He didn't know why the death of the younger assassin moved him so much. Every inhabitant of Davenport had been present at the funeral of Kadar, and he was surprised how sad the people had been. He realized Kadar had also meant a lot to them and that made him feel even more bad about himself, for he was the cause of Kadar's death.

Altaïr barely looked up from his thoughts when a horse rode by. But when the rider brought the animal to a halt, Altaïr could bring himself to it to lift his head high enough to acknowledge the rider.

What he saw, made him feel like all his sad and depressed feelings sank to his legs and into the ground, to be replaced by white hot fury.

On the back of the black horse in front of him, was Connor.

"I knew I could find you here." Connor smiled, but Altaïr didn't notice.

First he stood nailed to the ground, then he marched over to the horse, and pulled Connor down from it in one movement.

The American assassin looked shocked and couldn't bring out a word as his back hit the ground.

"You… You…" Altaïr shook in anger and didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence.

Instead he jumped on Connor and began to beat the hell out of him. But Connor didn't let him walk over him like that, and the two ended up fighting on the ground.

Sometimes Altaïr had the upper hand, but mostly Connor had. Both tried to get on top of the other, Connor to try to calm Altaïr down, and Altaïr to ram his fists at Connor's face.

When Altaïr was finally able to pin the other down, he suddenly was roughly dragged away by strong arms. He tried to struggle, but they held him tightly.

He glared at the ones who had interrupted him, and noticed it were some of the villagers. He looked around him, and saw that more inhabitants of Davenport had gathered around the fight.

The small doctor made his way through the crowd of dumbfounded people and went to the place where Connor sat on the ground. But the American assassin, who looked pretty beat-up, pushed the man with his glasses aside and shouted angrily at Altaïr.

"What the hell was that for!? Have you lost your mind?"

Altaïr stopped breathing for a few seconds.

The villagers could see how his face turned from anger to confused.

…What had that been?

The men let go off the Syrian assassin, noticing his muscles had relaxed.

Slowly, they all began to walk away. Show was over.

Altaïr looked at his hands. Why… did I do that?

He looked up and carefully walked over to Connor, who was getting up. Altaïr placed a hand on his shoulder.

"… Connor… I'm-"

"Get away from me, you freak!" Connor jumped away from his touch, glared at him and then walked away, leaving Altaïr alone in the middle of the road.

Altaïr hadn't gone downstairs for dinner. He had been sitting on his bed the rest of the day, hugging himself and thinking back about the good times in Masyaf.

Since when have I grown so soft? He thought in frustration. Where has the tough Altaïr gone?

He got up from the bed and walked over to the window. From the dark room he stared into the night and suddenly felt very claustrophobic. He opened the window and swiftly climbed outside and onto the roof.

He sat himself down, sighed and watched the almost full moon.

I think it might be best to go back to Masyaf now. There's nothing here for me anymore. I screwed up… Back home, Al Mualim will have all reasons to punish me, for I have not been responsible. Altaïr sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired face. But if the Syrian assassins will hear about what I've done, I'll lose all my respect. No one wants to have anything to do with a traitor like me, a… freak like me. They will cast me out. And Malik… He will be devastated by the news his dear brother died…. Because of me… Altaïr took his hands away from his face. I'm better off dead.

"Altaïr…?"

Altaïr didn't turn around. He knew who that voice belonged to, and that person was the last one he wanted to talk to right now.

"Altaïr, I have to apologize. I did not know about… Kadar. When I came back I directly went out to find you."

Connor stood behind Altaïr on the roof, keeping a comfortable distance. Altaïr kept watching the moon as he felt tears behind his eyes. Not now… Why am I so weak?

"I'm sorry for your loss. Kadar was an amazing young assassin with a heart of gold… I'll miss him." Connor added.

Silence.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon… I really shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You didn't know." Altaïr mumbled and shrugged.

Connor sighed and took a few steps in the direction of where Altaïr sat with his back facing him, watching the skies.

"Altaïr, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Now go away." Altaïr replied coldly.

"No, you're blaming yourself for Kadar's death."

Altaïr closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from leaving his eyes, but it was in vain. He quickly hid his face with both his hands.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Connor seating himself next to him.

"Hey… It's not your fault okay? Fate had decided to take Kadar away from this world at that moment. You didn't know it would happen, and you can't blame yourself." Connor said softly and rubbed Altaïr's back.

Altaïr tensed under the touch and didn't dare to look up.

"Stop thinking you failed him. I heard how close you two had gotten over the past weeks… You were his role model, his hero. And you came to rescue him. He's grateful for that, I'm sure. All he wanted, was your recognition. You gave him that by showing you cared enough about him to try to save him."

Confused, Altaïr looked up from his hands. He slowly shook his head, not being able to find words to argue with Connor about what he just said.

"I'm sure, Altaïr. You were his leader." Connor nodded.

Altaïr had never thought about it that way. He turned his head to look at the moon again, and tried to take in what Connor had told him.

They sat like that for quite some time, before Altaïr broke the silence.

"So… What did you do while you were gone?"

Connor was visibly happy Altaïr moved on from the heavy subject; he let his shoulders hang and sighed. He removed his hand from the Syrian assassin's back and shifted slightly so he sat more comfortable.

"Another Templar has fallen."

Altaïr looked at him surprised.

"You went Templar hunting and didn't mind to take me with you?"

"… Look, Altaïr. It was complicated… Believe me, it was better this way."

"Why?"

Connor was silent for quite a while. Altaïr was really clueless as to what he was hiding. He watched Connor's face, which still had some bruises and a small wound on his lips. Thoughts he couldn't place filled his mind as he watched the wound on Connor's lip. But before Altaïr was able to put a finger on what he was thinking, the other finally spoke up.

"Some time ago, I met my father. It appeared we had the same enemy, Benjamin Church, so it was beneficial for both parties to work together."

"… You worked together with a Templar to kill a Templar? Where is the logic to that!?" Altaïr was surprised. Connor shrugged.

Altaïr shook his head, but was too tired to yell or insult Connor for being so reckless. Instead he returned his gaze to the night skies and sighed. Connor followed his stare and for the first time since they met, the silence between them was comfortable.

Together they looked at the stars, both with different thoughts going through their head.

After a while Altaïr stood up and made his way to the edge of the roof.

"Night Connor." He said before hanging from the roof and climbing his way to the window again.

"Sleep well, Altaïr…"