1911

Altair trotted along the dusty roads, Zauba'a, his grey stallion, practically bouncing beneath him with energetic enthusiasm, seemingly as eager as he was for an adventure. Altair was almost envious of the beautiful horse. Zauba'a got to live the life of pure exhilarating adventure of travel, fleeing guards and soldiers, the occasional fight where he got to either kick the crap out of any foolish enough to go behind him or literally run them off a cliff and the thrill of being able to run faster than the wind. The stallion never had to worry about betrayals, unless it was Altair being late in feeding him, or the hidden intensions of men or the revenge of enemies. He never felt the pain Altair felt.

Altair urged him to a canter, enjoying the smooth strides as Zauba'a long legs ate up the ground. At the rate they were going, they would easily arrive in Acre in just a few days time.

He didn't bother checking in at the bureau. All the rafiqs were in Masyaf anyway and he wasn't exactly here on an assassination mission. Besides, he didn't really plan on staying that long. If luck was with him, he would be out of Acre in a few days. But if his luck held to its current course…he might find himself here for over a week.

For some odd reason, all the tension that had been building while he had been on his killing streak was gone. The guards seemed almost…lazy. So lazy, in fact, that he was willing to wager that he could walk right up to one of them and blatantly tell them he was a hashishan assassin and they wouldn't do anything about it. Well, maybe not to that extent, but their lax attitudes confused and worried him some. Either the death of Robert de Sable had popped the tension bubble or the arrival of Conrad had had a bigger effect than he had thought.

He continued on through the streets, not even bothering to imitate a scholar, completely undisturbed. But then he noticed something else; while the guards and soldiers seemed laid back, the people certainly weren't. Woman went around in tight groups, eyeing any man who came too close warily. Merchants kept a closer eye on their wares and the thugs kept one hand on their belt pouches at all times, which would prove irritating should Altair run out of throwing knives. But what he noticed most was the total lack of gossiping. Most of the time people were very open-mouthed about the going-ons of the city. All Altair had to do was sit on a bench and listen but everyone seemed tight-lipped. Anxiety was starting to set in, urging Altair to get to a roof top and fast. He glanced around as casually as he could, quickly spotting a ladder and making a beeline towards it. He got halfway up when he heard a guard shout.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

Altair shot the rest of the way up the ladder before spinning around to see how many guards were running after him.

Which were none, to his dumb-faced surprise. Instead, several guards were closing around a pretty young woman. The woman was insisting, in an increasingly shrill voice that grated everyone's nerves, that she had done no wrong.

"For the love of God." Altair muttered to himself as the woman started getting pushed around, "Have they nothing better to do with their time?"

Quickly he checked over his arsenal of equipment, making sure everything was ready to go before doing a spectacular leap from the roof, snapping out his hidden blade as he landed on one of the guards, sliding the cold steel into his neck.

Everything was still and silent for about one second before the on looking crowd realized that the man was dead. Then all hell broke loose as they panicked. The ensuing confusion and chaos was just what Altair had banked on and, with a wicked grin spreading across his face, he calmly clicked the hidden blade back into its housing and drew out his sword, relishing in the feel of the sudden rush of adrenalin pumping through his system.

"Infidel!" One over eager guard shouted as he charged Altair. He swung his sword in a clever sideswipe that, after Altair easily dodged it, quickly reversed the swing and brought it back towards the assassin's unprotected left side. But Altair had seen the shift in weight and had already reacted appropriately, bringing his own blade to bear and deftly knocking it out of the way. With the guard off-balance and very vulnerable, Altair moved in quickly, dancing around behind the man to sever the tendons in his legs before bringing the sword down in a vicious chop that nearly took the upper right portion of his body completely off.

The remaining 3 guards were visibly shaken, one more so than the others, but that didn't stop two of them from attacking at the same time, believing that safety in numbers was the way to go. But to an assassin who had successfully fended off a dozen templars at the same time after 3 days of non-stop fighting, two lazy city guards with the skills of a 5 year-old were absolutely nothing. He blocked the swipe of one, countering with a quick punch to the stomach that left him wheezing on the ground and immediately took out the other by flipping a throwing knife into his right eye. Casually he walked past the slightly recovered guard, who was just starting to struggle to his feet, impaling him on his sword as he went past and moved towards the remaining guard, who was cowering before the assassin.

"No, no, please…" he moaned in a way that Altair found rather pathetic. This was a man who was supposed to help protect the city? "Don't…don't kill me."

"Are the rumors true?" Altair asked, deciding to use this golden opportunity to get some answers, "Is William of Montferrat's son here in Acre?"

"Yes, he arrived just the other day from Tyre." The guard babbled, "Can't say much about the man…he stays in his castle."

"Any idea why he's come?"

"No, he won't say though he is planning something…all his men seem rather eager."

"Is that all?"

"That's everything! No one tells us anything!"

"Then you are of no more use to me." Altair slammed his hidden blade home into the guard's neck. Now more than ever he didn't want anyone to know he was here. If Conrad got wind that the assassin who killed his father was here…

"Sir?" Altair started, having completely forgotten about the woman he had saved, "I wanted to thank you for saving me…I, uh, I heard you asked that guard about Conrad?"

"Just curious is all." Altair said evasively, ducking his head so she couldn't see his face, "I suggest you go home…don't make any mention of me while you're at it. You'll be safer that way."

"Wait." She grabbed his arm as he turned to go, nearly making him jump out of his skin…and nearly taking hers from her body at the same time, "I think I can help you, if you're really that curious."

Altair glanced suspiciously at her.

"In case you haven't noticed, most of us here are pretty much mum." She said, quickly removing her hand from his arm as he gave her a pointedly dangerous look, "We are scared…but I have heard a few things that might interest you."

"Not here." Altair motioned to the pile of bodies and the new pile of on lookers, "Up there."

Suddenly he grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the ladder he had scaled earlier, yanking her onto his back and, ignoring her sudden gasp of surprise and fear, flew up the ladder. He practically had to peel her off his back her grip was so tight.

"Fear of heights?" he asked irritated when he finally got her off.

"Sort of." She said, quickly regaining her composure, "About that information…what exactly do you want to know?"

Instantly Altair's suspicion meter rose from slightly to extremely. No one ever asked that if they weren't being interrogated, especially not regular citizens who only gossiped. Besides…she had regained her composure far too quickly for someone who should have been rather shaken after she had just gone through. Slowly he ran the thumb of his left hand over the ring that triggered the hidden blade on his little finger. Something was off.

"Who are you?" he asked instead, grey eyes narrowed.

"My name is Fatima." She said, "I'm the daughter of a carpet merchant."

Altair's suspicion didn't abate; rather, it did the opposite. Either people were starting to pronounce names differently or this woman had just mispronounced her own name. It wasn't a very pronounced slip, but he had heard it none-the-less.

"Try again." He growled, moving his feet slightly into a more battle-ready stance.

She stared at him, her eyes unreadable. Definitely not the eyes of someone who should be taken back, or at least curious, as to why he was asking that. Then her face changed, going from innocent battered young woman, to something cold and hard, something akin to Badoura when she was really angry. Something Altair generally tried to avoid at all costs.

"You should have stayed in Masyaf, assassin." She said, "You should have stayed home. I'm sorry. Get the assassin!"

Soldiers suddenly swarmed out of nowhere, from behind towers, roof gardens, up ladders and jumping over gaps. Even more swarmed on the ground, cutting off Altair's escape. Save one.

Altair's quick eyes spied one slim possibility and he instantly took it, not really wanting to stick around to see what they truly wanted. He charged toward two guards, who immediately set themselves up to block him but he instead used them as a springboard to launch himself most of the way up the tall tower behind them. He scrambled madly up the side, immensely relieved that he was such a good free-runner, while arrows clicked off the wall below and beside him.

"Can't you fools actually hit anything?" he heard the woman yell. He smirked as he reached the top. Almost home free, almost…there! He saw a hay cart sitting down below. Without a second thought he leaped off the tower, falling down to the street below.

He had leaped off buildings thousands of times over the years and each time he had landed safely. He loved performing the leap of faith; it provided him a few moments of absolute freedom he couldn't enjoy otherwise. However, he never expected what happened next.

One arrow, shot by accident, nailed him in his calf muscle, slicing easily through his worn boots and tearing through skin and muscle. It wasn't the pain that did it, Altair was trained to ignore pain, but it was the fact that the arrow had knocked him off balance that did it. He began to flip through the air uncontrollably, knocking him farther out than his intended target…right onto the ledge of the wall behind it.

The air was knocked out of him in a rush as his ribs took the full weight of the fall. Strange, he didn't remember air sounding like the crack of a whip. Dazed and injured, he slipped off the ledge and landed heavily on the street some 20 feet below. He was dimly aware of people shouting and screaming, of the soldiers screaming at each other, some in languages he didn't understand, and of that damn woman, the one who had tricked him, screeching orders.

Panic suddenly filled him. He needed to get away…but how could he when he couldn't even get up?

XxXxXx

2012

The plane ride seemed to take forever. Desmond could have sworn they had flown to the moon and back at least three times. When he tried to get more information out of Lucy, she either didn't know herself or was aggravatingly mum. Defeated, he tried to sleep but the cold metal floor, coupled with his anxiety, prevented any such notion. So he was left to stare at the metal wall.

"Maybe you can tell me something." Lucy said, breaking the silence.

"What's that?"

"You told me that you didn't view your parents as parents." She said slowly, as if unsure how to broach the subject, "That you were their prisoner and they the wardens. Yet, when Vidic mentioned the raid in the desert, you seemed rather worried. When I told you that they were still alive, you looked relieved. Did you change your mind or did being in the animus change your views about a lot of things?"

Desmond was silent, slightly startled at the thought. "You know, I never looked at it that way. I guess…I guess when I told you that stuff earlier I was still pissed off. But later…well, let's just say that being held captive for over a week by crazy Templars and being forced to watch your assassin ancestor's memories about a mind-controlling Piece of Eden tends to change your view on things."

Lucy laughed, "Yeah, I can see why that would happen."

"My father was right." Desmond said suddenly, "He always said to be ready. Nothing ever happened out there but now I know that nothing happening is a good thing. I was being stupid."

"Everyone has their moments, Desmond." Lucy said gently, "Yours was just more noticeable than most."

"You've told me that before and it didn't really work the first time." Desmond said.

"Huh?" Lucy frowned, "I've never told you that before. We've never even talked about this before. What you are talking about?"

Desmond blinked. "I…uh…"

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say someone told that to Altair." Lucy said, "Desmond, be honest with me. How often do you feel Altair within you?"

"Lucy he's my ancestor." Desmond said wearily, "He's literally in my blood."

"Don't get smart…" Lucy started to say when suddenly they felt the plane start to descend, cutting her off as she felt like her belly was trying to crawl up her throat.

"Oh no. I hate this part." She moaned.

"What, you can jump off a building but not a plane landing?"

"Desmond, shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

The plane continued it's steep descent for several minutes before they heard a loud grinding noise as the landing gear came out. Their ears popped as the pressure suddenly changed. Desmond could hear them getting closer and closer to ground before…

The pilot landed rather roughly, making the two passengers bounce around in the hold. Lucy fell on top of Desmond, who caught her and held her tight, though it was rather unnecessary as she grabbed hold of him in a death grip. Fortunately it didn't last long and soon they were rolling smoothly along.

Lucy suddenly seemed to realize she was in Desmond's arms and quickly scrambled out rather indignantly, causing Desmond to laugh at her.

"I think maybe you picked up some of Altair's more undesirable traits." She snapped, "Like his uncanny ability to be an ass."

"Nope, that one was all mine all along."

Several hours later found them walking through a large dusty city that reminded Desmond strongly of a rather modern looking Damascus. Which of course, there was a modern Damascus, but Desmond had only seen the smaller, more medieval one.

"Where are we?" he asked Lucy.

"I was wondering if you ever going to ask."

"I asked on the plane at least a dozen times."

"I didn't want anyone to overhear us." Lucy explained, "It doesn't matter now. We are in Hama."

"That gives me nothing." Desmond huffed, "Geography was never my strong point."

"Among other things." Lucy teased, "Sorry, couldn't help that. Anyway, Hama is a Syrian city, one of the largest in the country. We are about 40 miles east of Masyaf."

"So is Hama an assassin city?"

"Uh no. That would be nice but no." Lucy said, "Also I would refrain from mention a certain 'A' word while we're here. People tend to get jumpy, just like in Altair's time, when that word is mentioned, if you get my drift."

"Yeah, sure, sorry." Desmond said distractedly, attention on his surroundings, "I'll keep that in mind."

Lucy smiled to herself and let him sightsee while she led him to the outskirts of the city. She noticed that, as they left behind the city and their surroundings melted into the desert, Desmond kept looking out over the desert with something akin to longing. Was that Desmond watching the sunset over the sand dunes, or was it Altair longing to run free of the confines of the city?

She sighed, knowing there was no true way of knowing. She just wanted to get to the stronghold. Being out in the open, more or less as fugitives, was making her nervous. Not only that but the sun was going down and there was no way in hell she was going to be caught out in Hama after dark.

Finally she spotted a dilapidated building shrouded by bushes. Upon closer inspection it proved to be nothing more than a crumbled mud building that might have been a shop or house at one point but was long ago abandoned. It was in here that Lucy led her charge. To his credit, Desmond remained silent, though Lucy knew he was curious. Or was he?

She glanced back at him. He was staring up at the darkening sky.

"Now what are you looking at?" she asked, partly to herself.

"Just looking for stars." He said, pointing up, "I haven't really seen them since I ran away. Look; first star. What's that old saying? If you make a wish on the first star you see it'll come true?"

Lucy followed his gaze and saw a bright star gleaming in the dusky sky. She remembered the old saying, but she had no faith in it. What sense was it to make a wish on something that was light-years away from earth? Heck, half the stars they saw in the night-sky were dead. Why would a dead star make your wish come true?

"If only they could." She murmured, "Come on, the door is around here somewhere. Look at stars later; I want to get inside."

They headed deeper into the remains of the house, both feeling slightly more at ease for some reason. Up in the sky, the star, the brightest of the constellation Aquila, glittered.

XxXxXx

Acre 1191

The woman continued to screech out orders to the soldiers, grinding Altair's already frayed nerves.

"Shut up, damn you!" he ground out painfully. Anger, yes! His reeling mind grabbed onto that anger like drowning man would a lifeline and used it to focus.

"Get up, Ibn La-Ahad." He snarled at himself, "Get up, move, or you're Templar bait."

He forced himself up and made his legs move. Never mind the pain that flared in his chest or his leg, never mind that he found it difficult to catch his breath. The sudden unfamiliar flare of panic pushed aside his pain temporarily. He had to run, now!

"There, there he is, after him!"

"How on earth is he still running?"

"Forget that, how is he still alive?"

"I don't care, that makes him easier to catch!"

Altair ran as he had never run before, pushing people out of his way, rather than dodge around them due to his bad leg. He couldn't do any of the sharp turns, spins, or leaps like he normally would to get rid of pursuers, so he just had to hope that he could just stay far enough ahead of them to get to the gates, where Zauba'a was waiting.

He ran for what seemed an eternity, but still he couldn't see the gate, making him a little more nervous. Just as he was starting to wonder if he was going the wrong way, he recognized the surrounding buildings. He was almost there. He could finally see the gates from here…and the thick line of soldiers waiting for him. However, Altair had one last trick to play. He had discovered years ago the less crowded way of getting through the gates.

With the very last ounces of strength left in him, he leaped onto a pile of crates then from there leaped over the astonished guards heads and onto the wooden planks that were perfectly spaced overhead.

"Zauba'a!" he screamed, praying the grey stallion was nearby, and leaped off the last plank, landing heavily. Pain shot up his leg, nearly making him scream out loud. He couldn't catch his breath; his ribs didn't want to move to allow air to fill his lungs. He felt light-headed and dizzy all of the sudden.

"He's down!"

"Careful he could be faking it!"

"That one is deadly, he killed three of my buddies several weeks ago."

He heard the careful footsteps, heard them start to circle him. So this is it, he thought, this is what it is like for a gazelle to be caught by lions. A loud roaring filled his ears, his vision was starting to whiteout. He had pushed himself too far. He was finished. Suddenly he heard shouts over the roar. Shouts? Why were they shouting? Then his foggy mind came up with the most absurd answer; the roar he heard was actually a whirlwind.

XxXxXx

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, is on purpose that I sometimes do not put the locations along with the date whenever I do a shift. That mostly is because they are either traveling or are not in a location I have disclosed or do not wish to disclose due wanting to give the reader a surprise. Just a little heads-up in case you were wondering.

Zauba'a, in case anyone is interested, is an evil spirit in Islamic folklore that appears in the form of a whirlwind. Yeah, I know, I'm slightly crazy, looking up demons and such, but what can I say? I'm a fantasy nut.

Review, please, I beg, I LOVE reviews. They keep me motivated along with orange soda and my newly formed love for electricity.

-Vanillathunder215