A/N: Hihi! So this one isn't the longest chapter but it isn't the shortest either. It's also currently 2am but I had just finished writing a research paper for school and I decided I could reward myself with some write-time and finish this part.
I love that you guys take the time to review the story, it makes my day every time I see them. I hope you continue to enjoy!
A/N: Also, ohmygosh, you guys! Sister Location is insane! Definitely gonna be writing a fic for it to go along with my other FNAF fics! I'm so excited! I wish I could play them myself but I can't so I have to watch them on YouTube *not-so-sadface*
Aliyah walked to the grotto that evening, seeking some peace and quiet. Although the others had congratulated her during the evening meal, the dull, pulsing pain in her hand was matched by a dull ache in her heart.
Could Saamir not have been made to see reason—his error?
Remembering his laughter as he died told her it would have been impossible but she could not deny the disquiet she felt. Beneath her joy, she grieved for him.
She stepped to the edge of the pool and sighed as the sound of the small waterfall at the far end soothed her mind. She started to sit on a rock when movement caught her eye. Malik knelt at the water's edge, splashing his face and neck, his robe on the ground beside him.
"Forgive me," she said, startled. "I thought I was alone."
He looked up in surprise, then a look of amusement came into his dark eyes. "As did I." He stood and she averted her eyes respectfully. Then longing overwhelmed her and she glanced up briefly, seeing the water slide over his muscled back as he retrieved his shirt and robes. Shame knifed through her and she looked away again.
I should not look at him in such a way. He is not my husband, nor will he ever be.
"I will leave you," he said, pulling his hood up.
"No," she said as he walked past her. He paused and looked at her curiously. "I…wish you would stay." Her words shocked her as much as her nerve to speak them.
"What troubles you?" he asked, looking at her in concern. His gaze fell to the bandage on her hand. "Do you feel as though you have made a mistake?"
"No," she answered, looking down at her missing finger. "Not in this."
"Then, what?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it just as quickly.
"What were you going to say, Aliyah?" he asked gently, seeing the furtive look in her eyes.
"Did Saamir have to die?" she asked quietly. "Could he not have been made to see his error?"
Malik's gaze hardened with anger. "He betrayed us, Aliyah. Hunted us. Murdered us."
"I know," she said, her voice tortured. "I know…I do, but…" her eyes pleaded for his understanding. "He laughed as he died," she told him, haunted by the memory. "He laughed…as though he had enjoyed what he had done and found it…amusing that we would never understand why."
Her sudden vulnerability made him check his temper. After carrying out so many of Al-Mualim's assignments, he had nearly forgotten how the first had affected him.
"Once he was a good man," he told her, his voice gentle once again. "We may never know what caused him to change."
She nodded, dropping her eyes from his searching gaze.
"Look at me, Aliyah," he said, stepping closer to her. "You did what was right," he told her when she met his gaze. "What was just. This reaction, these emotions, they are normal."
Her mouth quirked into a sardonic half-smile. "Because I am a woman? Soft and weak?"
He smiled at her words. "A woman, surely. Soft, perhaps, but not weak. I hope you never lose that softness. It will be what preserves you." He chuckled. "For all the changes you have undergone, you are wholly unchanged. I am grateful for that."
She looked at him in confusion and dismay. "If change is what I sought, how could that possibly be good?"
He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Do you recall that day, when I told you how I knew you were alive?"
She remembered. The memory was one of her fondest. "I do."
"That has not changed," he told her. "That is what I most feared would change and what I am happy to see has not. Even now, you are innocent. Pure."
She looked away, touched and horrified that he would use such a word to describe her. "How can you speak of me as pure?"
"When a theft occurs, the victim is not punished," he said. "And what was taken does not cease to belong to them."
"What was taken from me can never be regained, Malik," she said sadly.
"That depends on what you believe you lost," he replied, a look in his eyes she'd never seen before. "You are no longer prey."
Those words coaxed a small smile from her. "No, not any longer."
"Come with me," he said, jerking his head toward the grotto path. She followed him without hesitation, curious as to what he had in mind. He stopped when they reached the field and pointed to the cliff where her master had placed the flag so long ago. "Can you reach the top before I do?"
She looked at him in surprise. "What is up there?"
"The ability to say you got there first," he said with a challenging smirk.
Her eyes narrowed, she smiled and took off at a sprint, knowing he was not far behind. She leaped toward the rocks, found purchase in the cracks and began climbing. Though she had kept ahead of him across the field, he caught and passed her on the cliff face. The wind buffeted them, threatening to dislodge them. When the ground was far below, she looked up to see how close she was to the top. Though she was behind Malik, if he lingered in one spot she could catch him. The wind caught her hood and pushed it back off her head, causing her hair to whip around her face and uncoiling her braid. Malik reached the top and soon she was pulling herself over the edge, as well. Though she had never caught up to him, she had never fallen farther behind than an extra arm's length.
"Here," he said, extending a hand to pull her to her feet.
She accepted gratefully and stood beside him, looking at the sea, at the sliver of sun still visible on the horizon.
"I didn't reach the top first," she said, but didn't really care.
He smiled. "No, you didn't."
"You are stronger than I am," she told him. "You had an advantage in the climb."
"You are faster than I am," he replied.
She looked at him as though he was mad. "No."
"You are," he insisted.
"I do not believe that will ever be possible,' she stated with a laugh. She heaved the air in with a sigh. "I never want to lose this freedom," she said, as though she feared she might.
He looked at her, noticing the changes she had undergone. Five years of training had burned away the soft curves Hashima's care had placed on her and her body was lean and hard. Her eyes, however, still held a look of wonder for the world around her and her face was open and innocent. Hashima had confessed to him that she had had to cut off Aliyah's hair but now it fell to her waist in a thick, black braid and loose tendrils curled around her jaw. She was different, yet the same.
He gestured to the horizon. "Make your life what you wish it to be," he told her. "You have that choice now."
"What I wish it to be," she repeated and if the wind had been still, he would have heard the careful neutrality of her tone.
The sun slipped beneath the sea and darkness began its approach toward land.
What I wish it to be…Oh, Malik, they took all of that from me, as well.