Chapter 2 up! Not as long as I had hoped, but I didn't want to draw out this whole thing with Kadar and Malik too long. I am planning on putting one more chapter in for resolution's sake, and then it will be done. a Long oneshot I know, but I have gotten nothing but praise, so I hope you all are still enjoying my ramblings!

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But helpless pieces in the game He plays
Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days
He hither and thither moves, and checks ... and slays
Then one by one, back in the Closet lays

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Verse 49

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The void in which he occupied did not reek of fear and pain as his other dreams had.

Malik found himself seated in the position he had fallen asleep in, arm lying in his lap, legs tucked under him in a kneeling position. His body would complain the next day, he was sure of it.

He was not in a nightmare for once. This was… unusual.

Standing slowly, the rafiq took stock of his surroundings, which didn't take long. There was… emptiness. A palpable amount of nothing that seemed to encroach into his personal space and push him inwards. A crushing weight that at the same time didn't weigh a thing. It was with a mix of dread and fascination that Malik heard a throat clearing behind him.

Turning slowly on his heel, the one-armed man felt the weight upon his chest suddenly retract, and scenery begin to unfold around him, like a flower blooming in the sun. He was back at Solomon's Temple, or at least it seemed as if he was; Malik knew that the construct he was currently standing in was nothing but a dream world, a realm that couldn't be possible. And yet here he was.

Feeling the wall closest to him, his fingers came back slick with moisture; the air was damp and oppressive, just like it had been in his memories of that fateful day. Was this a dream, or had he somehow been implanted into his own mind?

Looking down, Malik grunted in disgust. He was not in the assassin's whites that he had worn for the mission. In the nightmares previous, the familiar dress of his Brotherhood, drenched in the blood of his brother as they had been, was always a comfort.

His brother.

As if on cue, Kadar strode around the corner, dressed in the same outfit he had died in. Blue eyes, piercing in their familiarity, ghosted over Malik's form, looking at him with a maddeningly neutral air. "Hello again, brother."

"Kadar." Certain he was in for another nightmare, perhaps his own sword running his brother through this time, Malik stiffened visibly. "What is it that you want."

His brother opened his mouth to speak, and for once a fountain of blood did not spew forth from his throat. His eyes were not filled with pain, merely curious.

"I expected more of a warm greeting from you, Malik. Or have you forgotten your brother?"

"You can see through me like still water, Kadar. Don't be foolish." The rafiq hissed without thinking, not used to holding a civil conversation with the memory of his brother. His dreams had been plagued with blood and pain and always, always, there was that blood-curdling scream. From whose throat it came he was unsure, but the sound tore at him and left him lying in a pool of his own sweat when he finally awoke. "I would never forget you, brother."

"Then why do I sense such hostility emanating from you?" Kadar stepped forward, and as if an invisible barrier existed between them, Malik took a step back, instantly cursing himself for his actions. "What makes your eyes fill with fear, brother?"

"You…" Even now, Malik's mouth seemed to be unable to work around the words that his brain delivered to him easily. You are dead, brother. You have been dead for many moons and you will never come back. I held your body and I saw the blood and you couldn't breathe because it was in your nose and mouth and I couldn't wipe it away fast enough oh my brother I am so sorry.

Hearing a chuckle from his companion, Malik's head snapped up from where it had sank to his chest. Kadar's unusual eyes were still trained on him, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

"Don't mock me."

"Why would I do such a thing? You're my brother, I love you."

"You are mocking me, Kadar. You died in Solomon's Temple and yet you come back night after night and deliver nothing but sleepless nights and agony for me."

Kadar's face fell, and Malik couldn't help but feel a kernel of triumph in his heart. He had finally stood up to the memory of his brother, the twisted abomination who only served to visit his slumber and provide him with perfect details of his own murder, night after night.

"Malik. What do you speak of?"

"You know very well, brother. You cannot make me believe that you are unaware of the pain you have… you continue to cause me."

"I am not responsible for the nightmares, I assure you."

Malik swung around to face his brother, a snarl twisting across his lips. "Then who is? Is this some divine retribution then? Am I a damned man forever? Have I not repented enough for my sins? Have I not let the one man I thought I could never excuse back into my life and bandaged his wounds and forgiven his multitudinous sins?"

"…Altaïr? You still blame him brother?" About to launch into another onslaught of words, the rafiq paused, confusion washing over his face and mirroring the look that his brother was wearing.

"What do you mean?"

"You speak of nightmares and retribution. Obviously my death has plagued you. I am not responsible for your dreams, big brother. Only this one."

"You…. Surely you had some hand in causing me so much grief, Kadar," Malik felt his stomach lurch, and once again cast his eyes over the form of his brother, so familiar and at the same time so foreign. Was he truly speaking to the spirit of his kin?

"I would never think to land such a destructive blow to you. If you are still haunted by my presence, brother, then I would suggest absolving some of the blame you have placed on yourself. You were not responsible for my death, you know that." Kadar offered a small smile, taking another step towards the rafiq.

This time, though his legs twitched in anticipation, Malik did not move. Emotions that he had thought concealed were beginning to overwhelm him, and he cast about desperately for something to explain this turn of events.

If this truly was not a dream, and a visitation from a spirit, then he was either mad, or dead himself. Panic rose inside of him, and the rafiq spun around, certain that an attack had been led on the Bureau and that he had been slaughtered in his sleep.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Malik turned and slapped Kadar away from him, his defenses once again flaring to life. His brother looked hurt for a moment, but the cool mask of neutrality slipped into place once again. Kadar had always sought to mimic the older novices, and had learned quite well how to conceal emotions by the time he was assigned to Solomon's Temple.

"I am sorry, Malik. For what you have felt, what you feel now. You look at me like a rich man looks at a leper in the streets. For whatever my memory has done to you, I am sorry," Kadar frowned, and then bowed his head, as if in an act of regret.

"I don't know why you've… you've come now, Kadar, but I cannot deal with…. With this," the rafiq waved his hand at the words, to the dark stones and flickering torches that consisted of his memory of Solomon's Temple. "I have to look after Altaïr, he is wounded severely and if I do not wake he will try to leave the Bureau and bleed out in Jerusalem."

"I know for a fact that he still sleeps, though fitfully. Brother, I might have passed on, but I still look after you and Altaïr. I love you both as much in death as I did in life."

Feeling a bubble of hatred well up inside, Malik could not help himself. "How could you love a man who was so engrossed in his own pride that he cost you your life?" The words were flung like barbs, and the rafiq couldn't help but hope that they would make Kadar wince.

"The same way you could love a man who cost you your arm and ranking, brother." The response was so calm and reserved, and yet Malik felt like he had been punched in the gut. So this was truly a spirit. He knew.

"I know about your feelings, Malik. I know about the concern that plagues your thoughts when Altaïr is in Jerusalem. You know the lengths that he has tried to regain some semblance of respect back from you, and the lengths he continues to put himself through for causing you and I so much pain. I know that for better or for worse, he is the soul you have set yourself to lock talons with, for as long as you still breathe."

Opening his mouth to respond, the rafiq snapped it shut once he realized that nothing coherent would come out. Had his brother also witnessed the metamorphosis then?

"Altaïr's pride lays in shatters at your feet, Malik. He is doing this for you. You are the one injury that he continues to bandage and treat and stitch closed. He can't truly become what he is destined to be unless you forgive him and yourself."

"I… I have forgiven him." At Kadar's unimpressed look, Malik quickly continued, "though it is hard to forget your memory, brother."

"I don't expect you to forget me." Another smile, and Kadar reached out once again for Malik, planting a firm hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Nor do I. I was part of you, and in a way I still am. I do not wish my memory to plague your nightmares any more, and so I desire for this visitation to be a reminder of what is most important to you."

"Why do you wish no harm on his soul? This is a question I must have answered."

"What good would it do to harbor hatred into the afterlife? What can I possibly do to Altaïr that he hasn't already done to himself through self-punishment and grief? He understands what errors he made in the past, and this is enough for me to forgive him for his actions in the Temple. If it had been me in his position, with that much power and the ability to put an end to the man who was causing so much pain…? I would have probably desired the same actions."

"You can't say that."

" I can't truly despise a man who works for personal justice. Isn't that the wish that we all share? We work under the Creed with a common belief, and it serves us well. The fact that Altaïr might have had a different method to the goals of a group does not make him a bad man. It simply means that he sought after the goal more and made mistakes because of it." Another tight squeeze to his shoulder, and Kadar stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to one side.

"These things…. They take time, brother." He did not want to agree with the logic that had been set before him, but to his brother's credit, the young man was as forgiving as always, even to the man who had dealt him his own death.

"I understand, and that is why I have not interfered with any of your proceedings with Altaïr until now. I did not wish to upset the natural order of things. You are both healing from wounds that are ugly and deep. You have found away to forgive Altaïr, and that is a step in the right direction. You no longer look at him as an enemy, but as someone who shares your desires. He has become your brother again. You need to let him know this, or let him suffer in the cloak of your silence."

"I… will take this into consideration."

"No, you will do what I tell you to do." Kadar's voice held an edge, but his face conveyed no aggravation. "I might be dead and gone, and you were my superior. But if you do not let him know that you have forgiven him, in plain terms, then he will not have strength for what lies ahead."

"And what lies ahead?" Malik's brows dropped in confusion, and he considered what his brother's cryptic words could mean.

A ghost of a smile, and Kadar shook his head. "I cannot tell you the things that the dead are permitted to see. That is not a world that you, with your feet still firmly planted in the bright world of the living, can reside in. I will simply tell you that there are dark times ahead, and deep sorrow. Do not twist my words into a prophecy, but take them as a bidding to prepare yourself."

"I… do not understand, brother."

"If you do not protect Altaïr and help him on his journey, then he will not have the strength to complete the tasks set before him and you will find yourself truly alone."

Malik felt his heart drop in him like a stone, and fear blossomed deep within. "I cannot lose him." Determination set his jaw in place, and he turned back to his brother.

Kadar smiled, genuinely this time. Malik had said the right thing, he knew it. "I am happy to hear you rally so fiercely to defend him, brother. You are both on your way to great things, and I am certain that if the men I knew upon my death once again join together and fight for a common belief, they will be victorious. Don't let my memory come between you and Altaïr. You are bound forever by grief and tragedy, but that does not mean that grief and tragedy should in turn rule over your life so thoroughly. Safety and peace, Malik."

"Safety and peace, Kadar." The world faded, and the rafiq slept soundly for the first time since his brother's death.