Altair shuffled back into the main room to fall onto a pillow and sit. Meanwhile, Malik was leaning against the desk, toying with a quill, and looked up at him while the bureau leader did the same. Both appeared curious as to how the conversation went.
"That woman is stubborn." Altair grunted, resting his chin on his fist and elbow on his knee. And he and Malik needed to get back to Masyaf. But what would be the point in leaving those two out to die in the streets? Altair had found them and took the girl, who was of more consern to the man. Then returned after being nagged by Malik. Unfortunately, Malik had left to preform his assignment by the time he returned, so he was out of options on how to get the man down into the bureau. Or he liked to tell himself. In honesty, he didn't know if it was due to exhaustion, or down right soreness that made him drop the man down to the unforgiving bureau floor.
The main reason that guy was still in such bad condition, he figured, was because of his own unwise choice. If only he put up for a little while longer, then he could avoid the angry glares from that woman, and the guilt that ate away at him. Looking back up, he noted Malik's consern still there plain as day on his face.
After a minute of silence, his friend broke it. "At least we will be on our way back to Masayf soon." He then pushed away from the desk and started for the room that Altair had just come from.
He narrowed his eyes, "If you plan to talk to her, then I must recommend you keep your sword ready. She isn't so friendly towards us.
"She isn't friendly towards you." The bureau leader corrected, not passing a glance up from his book. "Let us see if this woman's mood changes talking to another."
"Dabir, the day that woman doesn't give any of us blood thirsty looks is the day I'll apologize for dropping that man onto the bureau floor."
To this, the older shook his head. "You should have done that regardless."
Malik smirked and opened the door to see the woman.
Sasha pressed a damp cloth to Demitri's forehead, earning a small sigh from the semi-conscious person. She still held onto his hand, rubbing her thumb in small circles over his knuckles. A few tiems he would enclose his fingers to hold onto hers, just a slight squeeze to assure the both of them that the other was there. Still with them.
When the door opened again, she snapped her head up to look over her shoulder, her hair whipping back from her shoulder and causing a few loose strans to fall in front of her eyes that she pushed away. She remembered when Demitri did the same a couple days ago. And now she only had two days to heal him before she would, apparently, have to kill him.
But this was not that Altair man, no. This other was darker skinned, and his eyes a warm dark brown. He pulled back his hood upon entry, showing black hair instead of brown. And that scar that was on Altair did not appear on him above all else. This was his friend.
Now she was not very trusting, despite her usually social behavior. It sometimes took a year to get the point where Sasha would relax around someone. But either Altair or his friend had that. She saw them as responcible for Demitri's condition. A stab wound, maybe not, but the shattered wrist and fractured ribs were above all their fault.
"What do you want?" She questioned coldly.
This man's serious look soon softened a little, then he leaned against the wall. "Please, you don't need to be so hostile around me. I'm not as bullheaded as Altair."
She huffed a little and turned back to Demitri, looking over his broken shape just laying there. It was so much unlike his energetic and lovable demeanor. Just that thought made her think back to how they used to try and compare each other to animals. Sasha was always a mother hawk, and Demitri a border collie.
She felt the man put a hand on her shoulder as he asked, "What did Altair say that has you so angry?"
Her hand tightened it's grip around Demitri's for a moment before she forced herself to ease. "He said that if Demitri wasn't able to be moved by the end of two days, then I should kill him."
It took an extra moment for the Arab to answer, she caught a shocked look from the corner of her eye. So he didn't know about it? Maybe she shouldn't be so harsh towards him.
"I'll speak with him about this matter." The man finally told her. Then he seated himself beside her, by Demitri's calfs. "I also came in here to see how you and Demitri were doing."
Sasha rolled her eyes, knowing that the guy wouldn't see it because he was behind her. "I'm fine. But I'm worried that if we try to move Demitri then it might leave him in more a critical condition. It might make his ribs worse, or tear the stitches and cause him to bleed out. One wrong move and it could cause his already cracked ribs to break completely and maybe, if we aren't lucky, rupture something."
"I see." The man responded calmly. "And you know this?"
She nodded. "I work at a hospital where I come from."
"So you're a doctor?" She could just see the puzzled look. "That's very strange, isn't it?"
"And what do you mean by that?" Sasha shot back without raising her voice. "It's not like women can't heal a person. Why do you act like it's so odd?"
He shrugged. "Women aren't usually looked upon for much more than bearing children. But I have seen some who know some very simple forms of medicine. Mostly it's the men who know these things. If where you come from is different, then I'm sorry if I offended you."
To that, she chuckled, much to the man's confusion. "You know you don't need to be so formal. I don't hate you. I just hate Altair."
He visibly eased, and nodded. "So where do you come from?"
"America. The United States." Sasha answered, fiddling with the bandages on Demitri's chest.
That brought confusion upon the Arab, and Sasha casted him a questioning look for his lacking the knowledge to know where America was. She crossed her arms and stared.
"You have no clue what America is?"
"No." He answered curtly.
"It's the big fucking landmass to the West!" She exclaimed. "How do you miss it?"
"But that's Europe!" He answered. "Any further West and you'd fall off the face of the Earth!"
Did Sasha need any more clues to understand what was going on? No, not really. If her memories of history class were correct, then by what this guy just told her would mean that she was in a time period that wasn't her own. Hastily she questioned, "What year is it?"
"1189, why do you ask?" He knitted his eyebrows together as he stared.
The shock she felt was like being hit by a freight train. She let her face fall to her hands as she tried to sort out her racing thoughts. None of them easily pushed away. That's why he didn't know about North or South America... it wasn't discovered yet. Well Vikings aside.
"I'm not from this time..." She told him quietly. "I come from 2012."
"What?" This really made the guy bathled. "That's- that's impossible!"
"No. It's not." She answered lowly. "I thought it was, but here I am. And I think you can tell by what I said that I'm not from the twelve hundreds."
"Alright, so let's say you are," He speculated. "Do you have anything on you to prove this?"
She looked down at her clothes, her dark jeans and her bone sweatshirt should have been proof enough. And since it was too hot out, she had removed the sweatshirt and was sitting there in a white tank top. "Do clothes count?"
"I suppose." He sighed. "But is there anything else?"
She fished around her pockets until she found her ipod touch. Quickly she selected the first song she found and kept her ear buds unplugged so that the music played outloud. To this, the man was absolutely stunned.
"Okay, okay!" He told her quickly, and she turned off her device and stowed it away again. "You've got me convinced. So you both are from 2012?"
"Yes, we are." Sasha answered. "The last thing I remember though is being stabbed in the stomach and Demitri taking that same knife to the chest. I think that man was wearing some black robes... but I'm not sure."
"This is very strange indeed." He sighed. "I'll need to think about this." And so he stood from the bed, and walked towards the door. Before he left, he turned back and said in a joking sort of way, "Thank you for not tearing my head off,...?"
"Sasha." She finished. "My name is Sasha."
"And you may call me Malik." He replied. "I'll come back later if you need anything, Sasha."
With that, he left her to herself while she continued to change the bandages on Demitri. She kept herself slow and steady, trying not to be too hasty. But she could tell by the light streaming through the window slowly turning a sort of gold that the sun was setting. She had to make sure Demitri was ready to go the day after tomorrow.
She stood up, listening to her joints crack, and took a pillow and pulled her sweatshirt back on to fight off the cooling air. After she took an extra blanket from the corner, she accomidated herself on the floor, worried that if she shared a bed with her boyfriend, she might roll on top of him and further injury him.
After that, she lit a lanturn and put it down on the table by Demitri's bed, then sat on the floor, listening to her music. She stared at the stone floor, keeping an earbud out to listen in case her "patient" woke up and would need anything. But he was quiet besides his slow, shallow breathing and fretful groans from restless dreams.
Yup, now Sasha knows Malik's name and vis versa. And they now know that Sasha was sent back in time. It's strange. I know. And things are about to get stranger. Tell me what you guys thinks via reviews and I'll bring you the next chapter.