A/N: Hello my wonderful readers! God, these scenes were hard to write/revise, and harder to publish, since I'm STILL not 100% satisfied. I ended up condensing two chapters into one and left out the end of the second for next time, that way it flowed better. Regardless, I know that it isn't perfect, but I hope you enjoy it!

Altairila: Thanks so much for being understanding, man. I'm so happy that you and your wife enjoy reading this, hearing that I helped people is a huge motivator! As for Maria and Altair? She'll be very important very soon, don't you worry ;) I wasn't sure where to go with the sequel until I remembered you mentioning her, so let's just say that this story wouldn't make sense if I didn't include her at some point. Happy reading!

Chapter 3: All's Fair in Love and War

It had taken nearly a week until my body had recovered enough for me to leave the house, and another still until Rashid had agreed to train with me again. In that time, on the nights I'd spent alone in my room, I was increasingly plagued by nightmares. Ryan had even commented on my worn appearance, but I shrugged him off. I won't talk about them, not when he's been just as traumatized. It was Philippe, of course, and that damn prison, but the dreams had so far been manageable. I just needed something to get my mind off of it.

The sun was barely up when I left, with my brother still sleeping soundly in his bed. I knew he'd be up soon, but I didn't feel like waiting around to hear more of his "concern". I'm fine. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the memories dancing at the edges of my vision. I'm perfectly fine.

Today was not a good day. Still, I ignored it.

The morning air was crisp, and I sighed as I walked down the nearly empty streets. It seemed most people had taken to sleeping in, in a way they hadn't been before. There was no dust kicked up as of yet, and so the sun's rays were invisible. I inhaled deeply. Damn. If only I could appreciate this. The gates came into view, and I let my feet guide me to our training spot. It was a small clearing, the same one we'd been using ever since I first arrived at Masyaf.

"Kay-lyn, over here!" Rashid stood at the edge of the field, a black-robed figure next to him. I blinked in surprise as I recognized Malik. He had his sleeve pinned up as usual, but held some sort of journal in his other hand.

"Hello! What are you doing here?" I forced a smile as I traipsed closer, shoving aside my urge to run and hide. Malik was very observant and I doubt he would miss the exhaustion I felt.

Ugh.

"I wished to see how you had improved." Malik smiled back, but there was a question in his eyes. He glanced at Rashid, who looked a bit worried.

"Are you alright Kay-lyn?" My mentor asked, "You seem…tired."

"Quite alright! Just had a late night last night, that's all."

Please ignore me. Please don't question me. I hate it when people do that.

Rashid opened his mouth, then thought better and closed it with a snap. "Well then…I suppose we should practice disarming techniques. Do you remember what we practiced before?"

I grinned. "Uh…vaguely."

"Better than nothing!" He exclaimed cheerfully, and I flinched.

An innocuous phrase, but…

"I only have one of the chains. I thought, since she was smaller…" The guard's left hand was trembling. I focused on it, trying to distract myself. Philippe seemed enraged for a second, a sharp inhale preluding an explosion. Then he sighed and shook his head like a dog ridding himself of water.

"Oh well, it's better than nothing."

"Kay-lyn?" I smelled the crisp morning air. This doesn't make sense.

"Very well, sir." The cool metal wrapped around my wrists, and I stared, confused, at my intact hand. This really doesn't make sense.

I looked up, suddenly aware of the hand on my shoulder. Malik shook me gently, Rashid hovering behind him. Both had a mixture of confusion and concern plastered on their faces. Huh. Doesn't look real.

"What?" I asked, trying to seem casual. My wrists still felt cold.

"Are you sure you are well? We can do this later."

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"Kay-lyn-"

"Listen! I need something to distract myself, ok?" I hissed, jerking myself from his grasp. Both men looked startled. "Is that so hard to understand?!"

Silence reigned for a few moments. Malik looked between us, frowning, and put his notebook gently into his satchel. Then slowly, Rashid nodded.

"Yes. Yes, I can understand that."

I sighed, tension leaving my body. I relaxed my hands, realizing that I'd been digging my nails into my palms. Dust that had been kicked up around my feet settled, coating my boots.

"Sorry."

Rashid gave me a small smile. "No need to be."

We took our places on opposite ends of the training ground, passing wooden swords between both hands. The wind picked up, rustling the tree branches and sending leaves flying, so stereotypically dramatic that I could almost picture a god looking and going "yup, send in the gust."

Why am I so weird?

I shifted my left foot forward, and all of a sudden we were fighting, jerking back and forth in motions I'd yet to master. The dust arose once more, flying into the breeze just as we flew, over and over. The thunk of our weapons was a dull comparison to the clang of real metal, but still I felt a thrill spark through me. Finally, I was free of my own mind. Finally, I could fight back. It was a glorious moment, made no less so by Rashid shoving me to the ground.

"Bloody hell…" I winced, coughing through the puff that had appeared around me. I'm definitely gonna have a bruise tomorrow.

"Not bad. You have retained quite a bit." Malik looked almost impressed. I, however, was not.

"Again," I growled, springing to my feet.

Rashid blinked, then nodded.

Again, our weapons clashed, my moves becoming less and less restrained as the fear of hurting was erased, replaced with a determination to win. The adrenaline coursed through me, every hit and bruise wiping away my anxiety, my memories. I couldn't think when I was fighting. Still, I fell.

"Again."

Each hit I took numbed me, and each hit I landed made my heart race faster. Philippe would be nothing against this. I bared my teeth, and saw my opponent flinch. He swung, clocking me hard in the jaw and sending me sprawling.

….ow.

I coughed and spit out a mouthful of blood, feeling around with my tongue to make sure all teeth were in place. Vaguely, I registered a shadow kneeling over me.

"Kay-lyn! I'm so sorry, are you ok?" My mentor's guilty eyes meant mine. I frowned at him. "I did not intend to hit you so hard."

I stood up forcefully, ignoring the spinning in my head. "Again."

"Kay-lyn-"

"Again!"

Malik stood up from the tree stump, making a move as if he intended to walk toward us. Rashid stopped him with a sharp gesture and turned back to me. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I huffed and grinned at him, squaring up my shoulders. "Yes!" I hissed.

My mentor hesitated. Then…"Ok."

He took his place once more, and this time I didn't wait for his signal before flying across the dry grass. The look of surprise and alarm on his face made me laugh. Oh, how the tables have turned! Gold began to crowd against the edges of my vision, something I ignored as I hit again and again, forcing my opponent to throw up their blade in defense. Perfect.

"...enemy?"

I smiled, mouth still bloody. Enemy.

My movements were no longer entirely my own. I could feel and force and skill behind them that I knew I didn't possess, but still, I persisted, sending my enemy to the ground with a startled cry. I heard a shout, somewhere, in the distance, but it didn't matter. I can finally end this. I brought my sword down upon the writhing creature, over and over, waiting for it to finally die. The creature cried out, for help, for someone. Just like I did.

Then an arm was grabbing me, pulling me back, an unknown figure. I growled in dismay, shaking and pulling against my restraint. Someone was whispering to me. I could barely make out the words.

"Kay-lyn…calm yourself…you are not there."

I coughed and spluttered. "There…"

"There is no enemy here. Collect yourself, child."

No enemy…then who…

Who am I fighting?

"I have no idea. You tell me."

My vision cleared slightly, and I felt and saw the roughness of the hand that was holding me. The pain and fear that I'd suppressed returned, every bruise on my body aching with renewed vigor, and I whimpered. "M-Mal…"

"I know," He muttered, "But you're alright."

I looked forward, searching for something to bring me back properly. There was a trail of blood along the dirt, leading off to where Malik had been sitting. Against a rock slumped a solitary figure, chest heaving, robes torn and bloodied. His face was tilted down, his eyes screwed shut as he attempted to gain his bearings. Oh god…Rashid…

How many people am I going to hurt?

I felt a scream build up inside me and shuddered as his brown eyes met mine.

"Kay-lyn…"

I let it loose, the shrill sound tearing from my vocal cords, ripping into the air in a blind and terrible anguish. Malik jumped and held onto me so tightly his knuckles turned white. Those eyes widened.

"Kay-lyn…"

The sound became a sob as I heard that wretched voice. Go away. You hurt my friend, go the fuck away!

There was a confusion that wasn't mine, but the presence retreated, and I was alone in my head once more. My head hurt. Someone else was near me. "Kay-lyn…come back to us." I opened my eyes, unaware that I had closed them, to find Rashid much closer than he had been. He was bloody and bruised, but I saw no anger or blame in his expression. Instead, he'd cupped his palm around my cheek, thumb brushing at tears that had fallen. I sobbed again, leaning and burying my face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered into his robes. My wrists still felt cold. His arms wrapped around me.

"Oh, child. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Though it wasn't surprising, Ryan couldn't help but feel slighted when Baha refused to acknowledge the events of the previous day. The old blacksmith went about his day, ordering about his apprentice as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The day was one of many where Ryan wondered whether the life he had dreamed of really existed, or whether he'd been mistaken in the excitement Minerva's words had brought.

"Bring more water, Boy, and don't delay."

The "Boy" sighed and grabbed the bucket sitting near the forge. He figured that if Baha was going to ignore the help he'd given before, the least he could do was act a little nicer, but his mentor was a stubborn man.

The water was used up quickly, and Ryan retrieved another bucket, and another, and another. They had a massive project to finish by the end of the day, an order of half a dozen swords for the assassins of Masyaf. Maybe…maybe he's just stressed, Ryan thought hopefully, Maybe he'll talk once all this is done.

Time came and went, and soon the sun was setting, casting a golden sheen through the single window that hung in the back of the room. Still, they both worked, Baha snapping and yelling as he normally did, perhaps even more.

God, this is annoying. Ryan couldn't help but glare at the blacksmith after yet another lecture on his clumsiness. It was almost easier yesterday. I know he's upset, but I worked on my own, and-

"Boy, concentrate! We're doing important work!" Baha was bent over the last sword, hammering the metal into shape.

Before he could stop it a single word escaped his open mouth. "No."

A moment of silence reigned. Baha had frozen, a frown twisted across his face, hammer held loosely in his right fist. Slowly, he raised his head to stare at his glaring apprentice.

"What did you say?"

"I said no." Ryan stepped forward, ignoring the tremor in his voice. "Not until you apologize."

Baha glared at him and growled, "For what, boy?"

"You know what. I understand you were upset, but I-"

"No." Ryan flinched. "You don't get to do that. You know nothing about it."

"I-"

"Shut up and bring some more damn water."

Ryan could feel tears of frustration welling, unbidden, in his eyes. Damn it…I can't cry in front of him. Why won't he just listen?

Slowly, robotically, he picked up the bucket and went to retrieve more from the kitchen basin. 'Bint Yazid was still at the afternoon market, and vaguely he registered that she'd been gone much longer than usual.

When he got back, Baha had finished hammering the metal and was tapping his fingers impatiently. "Give me that," He hissed, jerking the bucket from Ryan's grasp. Does he hate me now? Ryan shook his head, refusing to allow his brain to trick him any more than it usually did. Still he felt anxiety creep into his throat.

A tear dropped. Baha froze.

Damn. It. All.

Ryan turned and fled, ignoring the gruff voice that called after him.

A/N: Oh boy, this chapter was a little depressing (and to be honest, the next one might not be a ton better). I've messed with the order of certain scenes a bit, but hopefully, I can move it around enough to make sense again. What will happen to Ryan? What the hell is up with Kaylyn? Read more to find out, my wonderful readers!