Altaïr woke with the rising of the sun and made his way down to the training arena to warm up. He spent the next several hours going through all the ranges of exercises that he could think of before heading towards the main hall for breakfast.
"Word is that you have a new puppy to follow you around and she's a real lovely one. You wouldn't mind sharing her would you?" A man garbed in assassin white asked as he sidled up to Altaïr.
He barely spared the man a glance, "Get out of my way, Abbas. Who my partner is now is of little consequence to you. I doubt she would want you even if you did bathe on a regular basis." Altaïr stated, casting a dismissing eye up and down Abbas.
With that, he left the speechless and infuriated assassin behind as he went in search of food. Afterwards he wandered up to his room and bathed, changing out of his morning clothes and into cleaner ones.
He sighed when he realized that he could no longer put off going to the infirmary and headed towards the room he dreaded the most.
He pushed the infirmary door open silently and stepped into the room. Amira glanced his way before turning her head towards the window again, and he sighed heavily.
'This is going to be a long and painful visit…'. He caught a chair and spun it so the back faced her bed and sat on it, folding his arms across the back of it, and waited for her to speak.
She lay on her bed, staring dully out the window. When he saw that she was pointedly ignoring him, Altaïr felt his frustration growing. His patience had almost reached its breaking point and he was about to storm out of the room when he heard her sigh softly.
"Why are you here?" Amira asked tiredly, her voice no more than a quiet whisper.
Altaïr looked down for a moment, "Because I was assigned to spend time here with you until you were healed." He replied honestly, and heard a soft mirthless laugh.
"Please. You've made it painfully clear you want nothing to do with me Altaïr. Don't trouble yourself. I don't need your sympathy, nor do I wish for it." She told him bitterly, and he looked up in mild confusion. His honey brown eyes caught her grey ones and for a moment, he was lost in them. He saw more about her in that instant than he ever thought possible.
Pain, pride, anger, and loneliness warred in her eyes, and he felt a stirring of shame.
"Amira, I gave my word that I would be here until you were healed. I will be here." He told her quietly, and saw a flicker a pain cross her face.
"Altaïr, if you think I believe that you want to be here, you must think I'm more ignorant than I am. I was awake for some of that conversation last night, and I know you're only really here because Sarah demanded it. As far as I'm concerned, you still have no reason to be here." Amira stated coolly, and Altaïr flinched at the wounded look on her face.
"Amira...I'm-" he started, before she cut him off.
"You're what? Sorry? Maybe if you weren't always so wrapped up in yourself you would be able to see other people clearer and be able to judge their abilities better, and not simply off of gender. I don't blame you Altaïr, but that doesn't mean in any way that I will completely forgive you for the events yesterday. If you really are sorry, you'll leave and let me be." She said shortly, and saw his eyes widen in surprise.
"Amira. I am sorry for what happened. I did not judge you fairly, and I underestimated you. Because of that underestimation, I was beaten, and I spoke in anger and with wounded pride." Altaïr said heavily, and her dulled grey eyes locked with his.
"That was possibly the worst apology I have ever had directed at me." Amira stated, and held up a staying hand when Altaïr began to rise to leave.
"I wasn't done yet. Sit." She ordered, and he slowly sat back down.
"But I also realize how hard it is for you to apologize, and for that I thank you for the effort. I do not forgive you completely, but it's a decent start. Humility doesn't come naturally to you, even I can tell that much by now. I'm guessing that although you wear the rank of Novice, you were once at the level of Master as your skills indicate. That fall-whatever may have caused it- weighs heavily on you." She paused to take a breath and glanced up at him from beneath dark lashes and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "I don't wish to be your enemy Altaïr, quite the opposite really. But I can't do that if you always hold people at an arms length away." She finished quietly, locking stares with him.
He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then "I don't understand what you mean." He said in confusion, and Amira smiled slightly.
"It means I don't want to be your enemy. I want to be able to work with you, to learn from you, and maybe teach you a few things as well." She told him quietly, and he sighed inwardly.
'I will never understand this woman's thought process…' he thought to himself.
As he opened his mouth to speak, Sarah bustled over with an armful of bandages and supplies. She placed them carefully on the nearby table before moving to stand by Amira with a cheerful smile.
"I need to change these bandages now. Altaïr, can you help her sit up?" Sarah asked, and Amira huffed indignantly at her.
"I can do it myself." She stated, and Sarah simply raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, you two will make a wonderful team if your stubbornness doesn't kill you both first. Altaïr, hurry up. I don't have all day." Sarah demanded, walking back to snag a dark green bottle that she placed on the table with the bandages.
Altaïr shrugged helplessly and sat gently on the opposite side of the bed from Sarah, and slid an arm beneath Amira. "I hate being coddled." She muttered, bringing a small grin to Altaïr's lips.
Sarah quickly unwrapped the bandages from around Amira's torso, then directed Altaïr to lay her back to the bed. Amira's wince as her wounds stretched against their stitching was noticed by both Altaïr and Sarah, but neither said anything. Even after being restitched, the wounds on Amira's stomach and sides horrified Altaïr. He was used to seeing extensive injuries on the other men, but such wounds to a woman was not something he was accustomed to.
'How in the world did you survive with so many wounds?' Altaïr found himself wondering again.
Amira's lower torso was a mass of stitching and dried blood from her still healing injuries and several were bleeding anew. Sarah smiled regretfully, "I'm sorry dear, but this will probably hurt a great deal. With the extent of the wounds that were reopened, we can't risk infection. This is the fully concentrated balm." She told her before dabbing a thick green liquid onto the wounds, not mixing it with the water to dilute it like the healers would for any other normal wound.
Amira's eyes widened immediately in pain, and her jaw clenched with the effort of suppressing a scream. Sarah quickly moved from wound to wound, cleaning away the dried blood and then covering the wound with the liquid.
Altaïr sat there silently, 'What am I supposed to do?' he wondered, looking down at Amira and seeing the pain on her face and in her widened eyes.
Her jaw was clenched tightly as she repressed screams, and her eyes were wide, the pain she felt showing so strongly in them that it made his heart ache. He looked at Sarah helplessly, but she was too involved with getting the process done quickly to see his look towards her.
"Ok, can you lift her up again Altaïr? Be careful not to smudge any of that stuff on your robes. It'll stain your clothes, and I won't subject the maids to trying to wash the stains out." Sarah told him, and Altaïr moved to comply, glad to have something to do again.
He gingerly lifted her upright, and she rested lightly against his shoulder. He swept her hair gently over one of her shoulders so it was out of Sarah's way, and the scent of flowers wafted towards him again, nearly overwhelming his senses. Sarah began to clean the wounds on Amira's back, and at the first touch of the green liquid on her skin, Altaïr felt Amira bury her face into his shoulder. Without thinking about it, Amira wrapped one arm around his waist and one slid behind his back and gripped his shoulder.
Altaïr was momentarily surprised by the strength of her hold, and then remembered the first encounter that he had with the healers undiluted balm and twined a hand in her hair. He felt her chest heave as she struggled to breathe through the pain and she trembled as Sarah dabbed on more of the liquid. He made small circles with his thumb on the back of her neck, not really thinking about what he was doing, simply trying to comfort her in the only manner he knew.
Sarah glanced up for a moment and noted her friends unconscious actions with a small smile before continuing in her work. Altaïr rested his head against hers after a moments hesitation and felt her trembling lessen slightly as she began to relax. The heat from his body enveloped her and she breathed in shallow breaths the comforting scent that hung around him before she slipped into the darkness lapping at the edges of her vision.
Sarah gently began to wrap the white linen around Amira's torso, a faint smile playing on her lips as she worked. When she had tied off the bandages and cut the excess, she indicated for Altaïr to lay Amira back on the bed. He did so gently, and then glanced up at Sarah.
"Should I leave?" he asked quietly, and Sarah slowly nodded.
"Just to let her sleep. I'll send word for you if she wishes to see you again though, alright?" Sarah replied, her voice matching his, and he rose from the bed carefully.
Sarah turned to gather her supplies and to return them to the main storeroom as Altaïr made as to leave. "Altaïr, a moment please." Sarah called softly, and he paused with his hand on the door as she hurried past him into the hallway.
He followed her cautiously, wondering what she needed. "You will be coming back won't you?" She asked worriedly, and he fixed her with a flat stare.
"I gave you my word that I would didn't I? Besides, I think I owe it to her to be here to try and make up for things a little bit." Altaïr stated uncomfortably and Sarah nodded.
"Alright. Come back here in a few hours if you have nothing better to do then." Sarah told him with a smile and returned back to the infirmary.
Altaïr stared after her for a moment before sighing and returning to his rooms. He paced for a long while as he thought of what he should do when he remembered something.
"The armor she wore needed to be fixed…and I doubt that she will be allowed to wear her uniform on missions, so maybe…I can request a uniform be made for her, and her old armor repaired." Altaïr said thoughtfully before heading to the seamstresses room.
The old woman looked up in surprise at the entrance of the white garbed assassin.
"Altaïr! To what do I owe this honor?" the old woman asked curiously, and then "What do you need repaired this time…?" she asked with a heavy sigh, and Altaïr gave her a faint smile.
"I need no repairs this time. I come with a request that a new uniform be made." He told her, and her eyes danced.
"Ahh, so it is true then? You have a new partner, the woman that you brought back from Jerusalem?" she asked with excitement and Altaïr nodded.
"Yes she is to be my partner…"
The old woman looked up at his tone and frowned. "Young man, it will do you wonders to have a young lady like that around you. And who's to say that you won't learn from her as she will surely learn from you?" She asked irritably and Altaïr simply shrugged.
"Either way. I came here to request you make a uniform fitting for her. You've seen her previous one, so you have measurements to go off of, and I give you leave to alter the new uniform to however you see fit." He said before striding out of the room.
"Nosy old woman" he muttered, and heard her call from behind him.
"I may be nosy but I'll see you with children one day!" and a hot flush crept up his face as he hurried away.
"What is it with that old woman? Every single time I see her she harasses me about that…" he muttered.
His next stop was the armory where he picked out a newer pair of arm guards that would fit her, along with several new blades for her to use.
"Altaïr, I've been meaning to ask you- have you had a chance to take a look at her blade?" the armorer asked.
"No. Why do you ask? Altaïr said, and the man gestured him over to his work bench.
"Look- The structure has been altered only slightly, here and here," the man pointed to places on the blade and Altaïr glanced at his and nodded.
"What of it?" he asked, impatient to move on. The armorer handed him Amira's blade.
"Put this on and tell me the difference once it's been triggered" he said.
Altaïr reluctantly complied and replaced his own blade with hers. His eyes narrowed as he triggered her blade, "There would be no need to remove the ring finger with the build of this blade. Its been adjusted to compensate for having it there, but loses none of the functionality." He told the man, who nodded excitedly.
"If you would, can you ask her if I may borrow her blade for a short time to replicate a similar blade?" he asked enthusiastically, and Altaïr nodded reluctantly.
"I will ask." He told the armorer before leaving.
A/N: So I'll make this brief since I'm studying for an exam and realized I forgot to post this…This chapter might be written a little differently, but I blame that on the fact that I'm reading and analyzing The Iliad… I had fun adding in that little act between the seamstress and Altaïr =] So enjoy, review (but no flames please) and have a great week until next Thursday!