A/N: This one... It isn't my best or my longest... It was difficult for me to write this one for some reason... Dunno why... Inspired somehow by "The Nobodies" by Marilyn Manson.
Alice the Walker: I really tried to work a good bit of realism into the situation, just because if it's not realistic, it's crap. :D
Hunter.48: Hehe. I agree.
Sazuka-chan: I like to think they were able to keep quiet enough to keep everything a secret. :3
Ranchdressing: Lol. I'm still trying to get used to writing smut. I think it'll be a little while before I really get comfortable with it.
: Hehe. Well, I decided to include a non-con warning in the beginning, just because you know there's going to be someone out there who takes it that way, and it's better to have all of my bases covered, ne?
Sixteen clumsy and shy: Yay indeed. :D
It was a moment that haunted him every night of his life, the single moment that changed everything, the instant that irreparably damaged his entire relationship with the only person he ever loved.
Altair closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the rough bark of the scruffy tree he was standing under. It didn't matter what he did or what Malik said; he would forever feel guilty about what happened. Kaddar was dead. Malik was maimed for life. Because of him. Because of his pride.
His dreams were filled with screams he wasn't sure he ever really heard within Solomon's Temple. There was Malik's cry of pain, then a choked cry from Kaddar, then an angry roar... It always ended the same way. Altair would awake in a cold sweat, panting with wild eyes darting around the room, searching for the source of the screaming. It always ended the same way. Altair would sneak out of his own room and into Malik's by the balcony, sneaking into the room with all the silent grace of a shadow in the deepest night. He would watch Malik breathe silently for a few moments, remind himself that Malik was alive and had forgiven him. It always ended the same way. He would crawl back to his own room and lay in his bed, tangled in the sheets and trying to forget that it had ever happened.
A single moment of pride had ruined two lives and ended one. 'No. Worse than that.' Altair mentally corrected himself. If he had decided to listen to Malik, then the Apple would have been left in Solomon's Temple. Al-Mualim would not have gotten it and would not have sent so many of his brothers to their deaths. Kaddar would be asleep down the hall. Malik would have both of his arms. Altair mentioned this to Malik one night after too much wine.
"But if you had not done what was done, then the Apple would have fallen to the Templars and our position could have been a thousand times worse. We do not know how things could have gone, only how they did go, and we must be thankful they went as they did and not worse." Malik said.
There was a slightly haughty air in that statement, as if it were something Malik had thought of many times before and felt was common knowledge by this point. Altair didn't see it that way. He saw himself as the man who killed his lover's brother and cost that lover his arm as well.
He drank too much and slept too little, at least lately and according to Malik. It had been a year since Solomon's Temple, but the nightmares were only getting worse. What difference did Malik's apology make when he couldn't forgive himself? He couldn't forgive himself because it all could have been avoided. All he had to do was swallow his pride for a few moments and attack the Templars when they had better odds of winning. But he didn't. He decided that he was single-handedly going to fight off the favorites of King Richard and it had cost him far too much. He wanted to show Malik that he was more than capable of doing anything he wanted to do and he knew that it would be easier with Kaddar around; the youngest Al-Sayf never went against anything he said. He could have said Al-Mualim's beard was made of feathers and Kaddar would have believed it, but only because it was said by Altair.
"Still wallowing in self-pity?"
Altair turned and saw Malik standing behind him. Altair tugged his hood lower over his eyes, but otherwise refused to acknowledge Malik's presence.
"A year has passed, Altair." Malik continued.
Altair pressed his calloused hand against the bark of the tree and followed the grain. He didn't say anything. But he and Malik had progressed beyond just words in their relationship.
"Your depression is more annoying than your pride. At least with your pride I knew that if you somehow managed to hurt yourself you would insist on crawling back to me to fix you up! But I do not like this side of you. I do not think you would come to me for help if you were dying. I think you would just die." Malik said softly.
"Pride caused all of the problems we have, Malik."
"Pride solved our problems, Altair."
"If I had listened to you that day, we could have come back to Maysaf and Kaddar would still be alive and you would still have all of your limbs."
"You were so proud and so convinced at your own abilities that you faced a Grand Master Assassin who was armed with preternatural power with nothing more than your sword and your wits. Only a proud man would do such a thing."
"Proud and stupid." Altair muttered.
"Be that as it may, your pride did just as much good as it did bad." Malik shrugged.
Malik took a step forward and reached out so he could push Altair's hood back. Malik's hand brushed over Altair's face and he smiled faintly.
"Could you say it again for me, Malik?" Altair asked, taking Malik's hand in his own.
"Altair Ibn La-Ahad, I forgive you for the death of my brother and the loss of my arm." Malik said.
Altair silently begged him to continue.
"I forgive you for your pride."
Altair allowed a faint smile to touch his lips for the briefest moment.
"Now if you're done with this self-pity, I would like to go back inside. There is work to be done." Malik reminded him.
Altair's smile grew and he allowed himself to be led back to the massive desk he had left behind. He would have to keep his pride in check; for Malik's sake.