AN: The first scene and its conversations are taken from the game-play. I own none of it. Well, except the description of emotions and actions. I wrote this chapter pretty fast, ey? Well, because it's short. Hey, lookie! It's chapter fourteen.
What We Can't Have
Chapter Fourteen
1191, Jerusalem
With a jump, Altair invaded the Assassin's Bureau. He strolled inside, briefly preparing himself for the negative comments Malik would throw at him.
"Safety and Peace, Malik," he saluted.
"Were the city was possessed of either. Why do you trouble me today?"
"Al Mualim has marked Majd Addin for death. What can you tell me about him?"
He stood before the black counter, gazing at the one-armed man. Malik run his tongue against his teeth, his dark eyes briefly flickering down as he thought for an answer.
"Saladin's absence has left the city without a proper leader, and Majd Addin has appointed himself to play the part. Fear and intimidation get him what he wants; he has no due to claim the position."
Altair gave a curt nod, saying, "That ends today."
Malik suddenly grimaced, then grit his teeth. "You speak too readily! This is not some slaver we're discussing; he rules Jerusalem and is well protected because of it! I suggest you plan your attack carefully—get to better know your prey."
Altair nodded once more. "With your help, I will. Where would you have me begin my search?"
Malik straightened, his features carrying signs of evident surprise. "What's this? You're actually asking for my assistance instead of demanding it? I'm impressed."
Irritated by Malik's sarcastic retort, he patiently stood his ground. "Be out with it."
The former assassin's lips twitched. "As you wish. Here's where I would look; first, to the Southwest near the mosque. After that, head South of here. There are two locations that might interest you; the Southernmost church is one, the other is in the streets, near the synagogue."
Once again nodding his approval, Altair turned to leave. But before he did, an idea popped in his mind, and he faced Malik, deciding to repay him for his mockery before.
"Thank you for your help, Dai," he said, knowing acutely how Malik disliked that title.
His comrade did not disappoint. "Don't foul this, Altair!"
Altair walked away, grinning to himself, and leapt up to the roof, being embraced by the sunny streets of Jerusalem.
-x-
1191, Jerusalem
Farah lazily sat at the window side of her and Sarah's shared room, a book in one hand and a crunched apple in the other. She took a strong bite, turning a page on her book. Her gawking eyes took in the black-inked writings, the words imprinting themselves in her brain.
Her features softened in pity as she read of Layla's suffering. Farah was currently learning Arabic, and to fasten her training, she picked up on Arabic poetry.
Her favorite was the story of Layla and Majnun, the madman who's infatuated with the heroine. It was beautiful.
Although she did not understand much of the words, she was aware of the plot.
"Are you ready?" Sarah entered the room, loosely draping her head with a scarf.
Without taking her eyes off of the book, Farah said, "For what?"
"To find me a goddamn husband. For the bazaar, obviously." Sarah shook her head. "Are you gonna get up or not?"
"Wait, let me just finish this page." Book, she internally corrected.
"You said that the last time I called you. And the other four times before that. Get up now or I swear to God I'll drag you out of the house myself."
"Okay," she replied in a monotonous voice, eyes still glued on the book. Farah wasn't paying much heed to her friend when Sarah stomped to where she reclined against the window on the cushion mats on the floor, and abruptly grabbed her revealed ankle.
Before she could voice her protest(s), Sarah tugged—hard.
Air whooshed out of her lungs as she felt her spine slam against the flat wooden surface of the floor. She barely stopped herself from grimacing.
Sarah began dragging her towards the ajar door.
Farah groaned and, whining, said, "Okay! Okay. I'm coming. Let go. Now. Let gooo."
Her friend still dragged her forth, the force of the tug causing Farah's body to not-so-gently turn and her stomach to skid across the floor. Her wide white tunic dragged up to her breasts, revealing her tummy.
"Sarah! Sarah, stop it." Trying to cover her revealed skin whilst holding onto her book and apple, she struggled to loosen Sarah's tight clasp by attempting to wiggle her ankle free.
Her fruit rolled out of her hand, and her hold on her book was lost, the ever increasing distance separating her from her possessions.
"Okay, okay, okay! I'm up! See?" Farah groaned out despite still being on the floor. Sarah instantly released her, knowing fully-well how hard her foot would smack against the floor.
At the moment of contact, the promised pain sizzled around her ankle and up the length of her leg. She closed her eyes to suppress a strained cry from escaping.
Once the pain waned away, she opened her eyes and stared up at her friend.
Sarah smiled innocently. Why that...
Farah sighed, gradually rising to her feet. "I was having such a good time reading Layla and Majnun."
"You read it more than I could count with my fingers; why you come back to it is beyond me," Sarah said, putting on her black cloak. Farah picked up her scattered possessions from the floor and placed them on her bed. Walking up to the wooden shelf that rose beside her bed, she got her own raven cloak and red scarf. She loosely swung the scarf over her head and, bringing up one edge, she shielded her lower face with a pin. It's safer this way, she thought, guarded.
Wearing her cloak and putting on her boots, she hopped up.
"Let's go?" she asked Sarah, smiling.
"No, let's stay," came the sarcastic retort. Rolling her eyes, she followed Sarah out of their room.
Downstairs, they grabbed two baskets from a corner in the kitchen, next to the sack of potatoes, and made their way to the main door.
"Girls!" came Khadijah's voice from the sitting room.
"Yes?" Farah answered as she swung her braided hair over her shoulder.
"If you can, and I hope you do, can you get some sweets? Perhaps Kenafeh?"
"Sweets, again?" came Ahmad's voice.
She heard Khadijah huff. "Yes. Again. Don't pretend like you don't eat some—I mean, most of them. I see you sneaking out a few from the back of the house."
Ahmad sputtered. "No- How- That is not true, dear wife."
Farah rolled her eyes, knowing their arguments would soon vibrate the walls of this house.
"Sure!" she replied fast, opening the door.
"You two have fun. And be safe!" Khadijah called out.
"You too," Sarah murmured back, snickering. Smiling, Farah lightly punched her on the shoulder. Both of them exited the house, baskets in each hand.
After walking for a brief moment, a sudden yet cold shiver swiftly run up the length of her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Farah abruptly stilled, the effect of the shiver causing her to sharply gasp.
Her eyes briefly flickered towards the city that splayed out before them, and felt her heart suddenly sink to the bottom of her stomach. Her brows furrowed, and she gulped.
This feeling again... What is this sensation?
Over the past year, it would visit her randomly, and it was always when she ventured outside.
"You coming?" Sarah's voice snapped her out of her reverie, causing her eyes to settle on her waiting friend. Farah forced a smile, shaking the feeling off.
"Yeah, I am," she halfheartedly replied, picking up her pace.
As they both walked down the road, with every stomp of each step, no matter how badly Farah attempted to ignore it, the terrifying feeling of her walking towards her doom hung heavily on her shoulders.
-x-
The two women strolled around the open market, looking or stopping to buy the required ingredients, and then picking up their leisure pace once more.
The sun soared high in the sky, its golden—almost blinding—rays warming the city below and displaying a blithesome atmosphere. Despite its hot rays warming her back, the soft, cool breeze that blew against her body made the heat tolerable. The air was fresh and warm, and hectic events encircled them.
Chatter was everywhere, the sellers shouting out their goods and the civilians bargaining their way through their determination. To be quite precise, the place was crowded and it took everything in one's self from bumping into another being.
With their half-filled baskets, they shuffled through the crowd of people.
"What else do we have to buy?" Sarah asked, very close to whining.
Farah pursed her lips, gazing inside her basket, then at Sarah's. "We've got the carrots, onions and cabbage, the only thing that is left to purchase is fresh meat and—"
"Sarah! Sarah!" a voice boomed from the crowd, cutting off Farah mid-sentence. "Over here! I'm here!"
As both of them searched for the source of the voice, they soon spotted a hand waving at them above numerous heads. Farah frowned, trying to make out the figure from between the moving bodies of the pedestrians. It appeared to be a... man.
Suddenly, she stilled, feeling amusement spark in her chest.
"Holy," Farah said, eyes widening. This was going to be fun.
"Shit," Sarah finished, sharing Farah's emotion. But her friend felt no amusement; she instead paled.
"Come on!" Farah said, grabbing Sarah by the arm and tugging her forth. Before her friend could stubbornly protest, they were pushing between the bodies in the crowd. Once they reached the clearing, standing before the ever smiling man known as Umar, Farah broadly smiled back in return. Although he couldn't see it, she hoped her eyes were doing the job.
Sarah's frown only deepened further.
"Hey, Umar!" Farah said cheerfully. "You're just the man we wanted to see."
An amused black brow arched up. "Oh?" he issued, hopeful eyes briefly flickering over to Sarah—to which her friend responded with a smug smile.
Umar, as Sarah mentioned him to be, has loved Sarah since they were children. Of course, her friend had never returned the similar feelings. And never even told Farah the reason why. Umar—well, to her—was a handsome young man. He rose to six feet and three inches, possessing light brown hair, sparkling gray eyes, and skin so white, it put hers to shame.
Oh, and, he also sold sweets.
How sweet, Farah teased inside, smile widening another fraction. Then a thought hit her, causing her to slightly falter.
No wonder auntie wanted to get some sweets... did she ever mention how much she loved that woman's cunning plans?
"How may I help you?" Umar's manly—yet laced with a rare softness of that of a boy's—voice interrupted her musings.
"Auntie yearns for sweets once more," Farah politely informed.
Umar smiled, his innocent eyes sparking to life. "Follow me," he said, gaze jumping to Sarah once more.
Her friend was staring up at the sky, as if praying for needed patience.
"You coming?" Umar asked, and it took a while for Sarah to realize he was talking to her.
She glanced at him, emerald eyes hard and slightly squinting due to the sun's rays. "Yeah?" she answered matter-of-fact, as if his question was of the inane. Umar over-looked her rudeness, his smile widening.
It seemed he'd smile at her even with her hands wrapped around his neck, Farah thought. Her chest slightly ached at the unfairness.
"Come on, then!" he said to them both, turning on his heels. They began following him into the moving crowd, and soon entered his cool store. The air was sweet, the many delicious pastries filling her nostrils and her heart and causing her to sigh. Yum. If only she was a cook; she'd eat all the sweets she made.
Umar walked over to the wooden counter, knelt down, and brought out a wrapper.
"Tell me," he said, waiting for their order.
"Auntie wants Kenafeh. Five slices, please," Farah issued with a polite smile.
Umar nodded. "I've also made this great pastry this morning, it consists of of honey and nuts. You should try it."
"And try it I so will."
He walked over to one of the tables and began cutting their chosen pastry to pieces.
"Hey, can you also put one which consists cinnamon?" Farah butt in, her mouth watering.
"You got it," came the reply.
As Sarah waited by the exit, emerald eyes still hard, Farah watched Umar as he wrapped up the sweets, then cloaked them with a red cloth.
"Here," he said, walking over to her and lending her the neatly wrapped box. Farah smiled, placing it in her basket, and reached for the coins.
A hand suddenly extended, stopping her. Farah glanced up at Umar, brows furrowing. He smiled down at her.
"Think of it as a gift from me," he said.
Farah chuckled. "You're too kind, but I cannot do that. You deserve payment for your hard work, Umar."
"It is only to you two, you needn't worry about any salary," he reassured.
Farah shook her head. "The topic is not about your salary but your hard work. Simply put, it feels wrong to do this. Take the coins, please." She drew out the said golds.
Umar once again stopped her. "No, sister, it is a gift. I cannot accept the coins."
"I insist," Farah pressed. "Please, brother."
"Enjoy your sweets."
Farah opened her mouth to protest but the footsteps resounding from behind stopped her. Sarah was in front of her before she could even blink. Her friend took the coins from her hand and, grabbing Umar's, shoved them in his open palm.
Both of her and Umar were speechless.
"Umar," Sarah said, her voice stern and unbending. "You show this generosity to my family almost all the time. Do not further abuse this act of kindness. Everything has its own limits. So, now, take these coins. I insist. You've been far too generous, but you need this money. If not for yourself, then surely for your father."
At Sarah's last words, Umar's eyes instantly hardened, almost narrowing, and his jaw muscle ticked. Farah slightly frowned, but kept the curiosity to herself.
"Take good care of him. Good day." With that, Sarah turned on her heels and, grabbing Farah's arm, ushered them out of the store.
Farah glanced back, uttering a quick, "Thank you, again," at Umar before disappearing from his line of sight.
Once outside, she withdrew her arm away from Sarah's tight grip. Her friend kept on walking, not bothering to stop even if they were already out of the store. Farah frowned at her friend's reaction.
"Sarah," she called. She didn't respond.
"Sarah," she called out once more, this time higher. Her friend still did not cease her stomps. If she walked any further, Farah would lose absolute sight of her.
"Sarah!" she shouted, not caring when some eyes dragged to her direction.
At that, her friend at last turned around, yelling out a frustrated, "What?!"
Farah arched a brow at her, then cocked her head to the side. "You're going to the wrong way."
Sarah blinked, then exhaled loudly, walking over to her in that moody way of hers. What was with this behavior? She never acted this way.
Once her friend reached Farah's side, they began striding forth. Farah clasped her slightly heavy basket closer and, facing the girl, said, "I get that you're pissed, but you don't get to release it out on me. And not even without a proper explanation, at that."
Sarah sighed, releasing an imaginary steam out. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Farah nodded. "Apology pending. But can you please, for the love of God, explain what happened in there? Correction, your sudden outburst?"
"He's annoying," came the clipped retort. Farah raised her brows at her comment, once again feeling bad for Umar.
"He was simply being nice, Sarah," she calmly offered. "Maybe you don't know this, but such people still exist rather than just your kind."
Sarah huffed. "He's just so... so persistent."
"Well, people who like people act like that. They try to win over the person's affection," she tried to reason, but for Sarah it seemed like that was not good enough explanation. "Okay, yes, I was getting irked by his kindness, too. But if you were absent, the situation would've been different. Which brings me back to the topic at hand. He's loved you since, hell, perhaps the second you were out of the womb. You can't truly blame him. He's at least trying."
"Well, he should stop. Numerous times have I told him I'm not interested, and my answer has not changed. Nor will it—ever. He should simply give up and be with another."
Farah watched Sarah in silence, the chatter and cackling around them increasing in volume.
"You're not telling me something," she at last said. Sarah licked her lips, lashes fluttering downwards.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she tried to say nonchalantly. Oh, Farah would have none of that.
"Oh, you do." Farah grinned. "Tell me, what is bothering you?"
"Nothing."
"Sarah..."
"Just leave it alone. Nothing's irking me." A lie. One Farah could easily discern. She always knew when her dear friend was lying. How? Because she'd always say, "Nothing's bothering me! Wah wah wah," when there was evidently something gripping at her.
"I know you, Sarah bin Ahmad, and right you're the biggest liar in town. You can tell me anything, you know that. If not, let me remind you. You can tell me anything. I don't and won't judge. But if it is something that dear... then," she sighed, her shoulders sagging. "You know best. But know that I'm always here for you, no matter what. You know that—"
"I love another."
"—right? Because you've been there for me, I'll be there for—" Farah suddenly froze, her eyes going wide and wild. In her stoic state, she gradually turned her face towards Sarah.
"What did you... just say, Sarah? I'm sorry was that a— I mean a— Answer. Now."
Her friend faced the ground, features shadowed. Farah stepped in front of her, studying her with her lips parted.
Surely she had misheard, right? This hard-shelled, aggressive and stubborn woman could not have succumbed to the fluttery and soft sensations of love, right? Was the Apocalypse upon them?
"Sarah, what did you just—"
"You know exactly what I said," she interrupted, head still bowed down. Farah pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her lips twitching.
Oh... my... God.
"Okay, okay," she inhaled deeply, then impatiently exhaled. "This is very difficult for me to digest, as you must already know, so give me a moment. Okay, alright. I mean— you love someone— like, woah, I just— who is it?" she suddenly asked.
Sarah was silent, nearly provoking Farah to grab her shoulders and shake the answer out of her. Her closest friend was in love with someone and she didn't know about it?!
"Who is it, Sarah? This is something big, you have to tell me everything. Is he cute? Rich? Oh, is he rich? This is essential to my survival."
Sarah inhaled deeply, then, slowly, she raised her head back up, emerald eyes clashing with brown ones. She exhaled.
"You," Sarah softly said.
For a whole minute, Farah dumbly smiled at her, the single word hanging heavily over them. Then, with her awkward smile still enact, she drawled out a, "Whaaa...t?" To make matters worse, she added, "I'm... flattered?"
Sarah pursed her lips silence, her teeth digging into her lower lip. Farah was still motionless, her mind still having trouble processing Sarah's confession.
"You... mean to say... you love... me? Like, me? Farah me?"
Sarah's shoulders shook, then, she burst into fits of flowing laughter. Farah was taken-aback, and gazed at her in confusion. What was the meaning of this?
"Oh my God." Her friend deeply inhaled, trying to catch her breath. Farah was still struck dumbfounded.
"Sarah..."
"I'm so sorry, it's just—" she started laughing again.
"Sarah," Farah gritted out. Sarah straightened her posture, pressing her lips together to suppress the still threatening-to-escape chuckles.
"Okay, alright. I'm serious now." She exhaled deeply, calming herself. "I'm just jesting."
"What?"
"I simply wanted out from the solemnity of the situation." She formed a can-you-blame-me shrug?
Realization dawned, and Farah wanted to shout and laugh at the same time but the only thing she performed was, "Oh, good gracious!" and punched Sarah's forearm, making her wince. "What the hell?!" She laughed out. "I thought you were serious. Don't ever do that again, you nearly provoked my heart to have a seizure."
Sarah released a chuckle. "It's just so fun watching your dumb expressions. Whut? Me, Furuh?" she mimicked Farah in a stupid manner.
"You're so dead." Farah shook her head. "But luckily for you, we're in public. So I can't really murder you. No, but seriously—joke's aside—who is it that you love? Maybe I should perform a prayer for that poor man."
Sarah chuckled, lightly punching her in the arm. "Shut up."
Farah grinned.
After a while, Sarah's beaming expression dropped and in its place was the look of torture and utter sorrow. Almost hopelessness. Farah's chest constricted at the sight, already knowing the person meant a lot to her stubborn friend. Well, go figure, she dryly thought.
She faced Farah, forming a small yet pitiful smile. "Let's go sit down somewhere, and I'll unburden myself."
"Okay," she murmured, nodding. Once they found a shaded bench, they sat down, and Farah quietly waited for Sarah to begin.
Sarah rested her basket down on the ground, and cast her eyes low. Then, ever so softly, she started. "What I'm about to tell you... No one knows of it."
Farah gradually straightened. "Not even your—"
"No." Sarah shook her head. "Not even my own mother."
Farah bit her lower lip in deep thought. Sarah literally told her mother, if not her father, everything. They were close like that, and now realizing she kept this secret away from even the closest figure(s) in her life disquieted Farah.
Nevertheless, she gave her friend her unwavering attention.
Sarah rubbed her palms together—nervous, probably—and sat in silence. Then, she suddenly laughed, more to herself than at anything else.
Exhaling lowly, she uttered the name of her love, "His name is Malik."
-x-
AN: THERE WILL BE MORE!