Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

Warning: This chapter is self-beta'd.

I tried to help you once,
Against my own advice,
I saw you going down,
But you never realized,
That you're drowning in the water,
So I offered you my hand,
Compassion's in my nature,
Tonight is our last stand.

I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut,
My weakness is that I care too much.
And my scars remind me that the past is real,
I tear my heart open just to feel.

"Scars" by: Papa Roach

Chapter Four: Thankless Jobs

Anima's POV

I exited the meeting room last, still thinking about the strange turn of events. This was supposed to be a peaceful and safe place. The Assassins made sure of that. Now, there was turmoil everywhere we looked and The Assassins had more missions than ever. We were actually busy for once.

A swirl of white robes caught my attention. I recognized them as the Assassin Altaïr's. Though he had been here for over a week, she'd never once seen him when she was about. Without thinking, I quietly followed him down the hall. He seemed deep in thought and probably wasn't paying complete attention. Anima smirked to herself. Had he been a novice, she could've tackled him and then called it a lesson in always being aware of your surroundings. Of course, there was no doubt the Altaïr was one of the best Assassin's there was – at least by The Mentor's and Al Mualim's and pretty much everybody who dueled him in the arena's standards. Still, she wasn't exactly about to pick a fight with him. But, she had a sinking suspicion that his arrogance and young age would be his falling.

I followed him out of the bureau and made sure to glide carefully in and out of stalls on the ground. When Altaïr jumped onto the roofs, I decided to stay in the streets. Silently, I moved through the alleyways and hopped between shadows. He didn't move quickly or in a specific direction. The large Assassin male even came to a dead end multiple times which lead her to believe he hadn't explored this part of the city yet or truly wasn't paying attention to where he was going. Then again, this was a safer part of town where little crime happened and people were rarely talked about; your average middle class.

I sucked in a breath and dove behind a crowd of people when Altaïr suddenly hopped off the roof five feet in front of her. For the first time in a while, I wished I was in a dress. Instead I was dressed in a tunic and pants – men's clothes, so I stuck out like a sore thumb, but not as much as when she was dressed in her Assassin's attire. I allowed herself to relax my pace and follow multiple feet behind the Assassin man. He towered over all the people there by between a half a head and a head, so his pristine white hood was incredibly easy to spot.

He rounded the corner and I lost sight of him for a moment. When I turned the corner, he was gone.

Confused, I looked around. Some boys ran past, giggling. I was on the bridge near the lake, nobody was about. Perhaps he decided to go swimming? It was a cooler day, but the idea wasn't unreasonable.

Sticking my head over the bridge, I looked into the water.

Nothing. Getting a bad feeling in her gut, I crossed the bridge and checked the other side. There, water was churning violently, but no person could be seen. It finally clicked:

He was drowning!

I threw herself over the edge; plunging into the cold water without a second thought. I forced my eyes open in the murky water; silt stung my eyes and the cold made my muscles tense up slightly. It took a moment, but I finally caught sight of a sinking figure about twelve feet under water. Slowly, I went back up for air before propelling myself downwards to help the struggling Assassin. When I reached him, he immediately clung onto me in blind panic, dragging them both down.

His panic made me panic and for a moment, I was frozen with fear; now what? Then, I felt my survival instincts kicked in and I started using my legs to kick themselves upwards towards air. I kept one arm wrapped securely around Altaïr's midsection and used the other to help swim. I tried to keep my kicks swift and powerful, but I occasionally clipped Altaïr's legs. My lungs burned and I wasn't getting anywhere. If anything, I was just being dragged down by Altaïr's weight.

Weight… wait! His armor! It's too heavy! I thought to herself.

Feeling bad for a moment, I forced myself to let go of the still struggling Arabian man to get air. He grasped meekly at me, but I swum up too fast. Taking in a lungful of sweet air, I dived down again: this time with a plan.

Starting with his chest plate, I undid the straps with adrenaline fueled accuracy. Next were his gauntlets. After that, I winced when his hidden blade fell away; they were usually custom made and designed for each Assassin – they were our prized possessions. I forced myself to take off the greaves, and the vambraces, and lastly the spaulders. I even considered taking his boots off, but by then O was getting dizzy and we had reached the bottom of the twenty foot lake; far deeper than I was used to swimming.

With a quick prayer to God, hoping that he didn't get offended by my comment(s) earlier, I bunched my muscles and pushed up towards the top of the lake. My muscles felt like jelly, my lungs burned, my vision was going blurry – I had been under water for about four minutes. Altaïr had been for around six. We couldn't stay conscious that much longer. As a matter of fact, she was impressed that Altaïr was still responsive and somewhat sane with that little oxygen left.

It was like two steps forward and one back. Perhaps the words strokes would be more accurate. His weight was dragging me down. Suddenly, we both sunk five feet rapidly. We both tensed. By now Altaïr had taken to holding my midsection with both arms in a bone-crushing embrace that didn't help my air capacity and flailing his legs in an extremely unhelpful manner, but at least I had both arms to swim.

Bubbles came out of my nose. I needed air quickly and couldn't escape Altaïr's grip to get any. I gritted my teeth and made one last desperate pull. It felt as if my muscles were about to snap under the pressure, but then broke the surface. Quickly drawing air, I pushed Altaïr up. He quickly sucked in all the oxygen he could before I started awkwardly pulling him towards the shore another twenty feet away.

By now I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. My head was swimming and I was perfectly willing to just allow myself to drown, but a spazzing out Assassin kept me perfectly awake as I pulled both of us to shore – multiple times sinking under water from his weight and him clinging onto me.

When he was finally able to stand up at about the six foot mark, he went to lunge forward towards land. His elbow caught me in the ribs, causing her to get the wind knocked out of me. I heaved for a moment while treading, Altaïr still clinging to me even though he could stand, the water a little bit under his chin. After a moment of me sucking wind and him standing perfectly still plus supporting some of my weight, I continued moving towards shore. Then the tables turned and he dragged me ungracefully to shore. Once on the muddy bank I wheeled around and pounded the large Assassin on the back as hard as possible.

He caught my hand with a glare.

"Cough." I ordered.

He kept glaring at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Cough." Then I coughed myself as an example.

Again he didn't comply.

So, I decided a different method. "Water could've gotten in your lungs. If that happened, even if you don't feel it now, you will most likely drown in your sleep…" I paused for a moment before glaring at him in return, "And I did not just sacrifice my ass to save your sorry hide just for you to die from drowning in your own bed. So here's how it's going to go: you can start hacking up a lung here, or I can drag you to the medical ward and explain this whole situation there before they force the water out of your lungs."

A snarl from him. Some devious part of my brain turned on: his hood was down, allowing me to take in his features: a strong, sharp, masculine jaw that was perfectly shaved. He had an aquiline nose that was almost like an aristocrat's and defined cheekbones that gave him a sharp appearance. His lips were full with a pouty lower lip and a feminine cupid's brow – they were deadly, those lips. His hair was short and hung slightly over his forehead. His eyebrows were delicate and portrayed emotion effortlessly – though were usually furrowed or arched up. Finally his eyes: oh, his eyes. As if his lips and his jaw line wasn't enough to drive any woman insane. They were molten gold; metallic and all-seeing. They had every emotion in them, yet nothing. They pinned me to the ground and took my breath away more than getting elbowed in the ribs or drowning.

He raised an eyebrow at me, but otherwise still glared. He probably noticed me shamelessly checking him out.

"I'm still waiting for you to make your decision." I stated coolly, not allowing him to phase me and meeting his eyes to the best of my extent.

With a skyward glance and a deep inhaling of breath, he did what I told him to do and glared at me as he started hacking up water. I kept my 'I told you so' smirk off my face because something said that he would kill me if I made any notion of being better than him what-so-ever.

Instead I sighed and looked into the water. "It's no use retrieving your armor. It's as good as gone now… the undercurrent probably swept it off somewhere." He freezes before turning to look at me; if he looked intimidating before, he looked like the devil himself now; murderous and cruel eyes flashing, lips curled back into a feral snarl, hands flexing. I cleared my throat somewhat and forced myself to look in his eyes even though I wanted to piss myself. I was positive that my fear showed through my supposedly fearless façade, but I refused to submit. "It was too heavy, I couldn't save you with it on…" I trailed off lamely, losing my confidence more and more by the second. I felt my shoulders and head drop, along with my eyes. I don't know what I was more ashamed about; the fact that I failed to complete whatever twisted mission this was completely or that I was sorry and acting vulnerable after saving this man's life.

My eyes flickered to the lake. A wave of white hot pain across my cheek jerked my face back to the tall Assassin's. There, his hand still up and poised to hit me again, was a severely un-amused Altaïr.

I wanted nothing more than to hit him back twice as hard. My fingers itched, my head pounded, my cheek throbbed, I could taste blood in my mouth, I was seeing red, and my hands were shaking in effort to not lose my temper. Instead I took the higher route and instead closed my eyes and controlled my breathing. I was not going to let him get the better of me.

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was him retreating.

I touched my cheek tenderly before dropping my head and shuffling as slowly as possible to The Mentor's office to get this sorted out.

It was a damn long day.

A/N: Review please? It can be as simple as one word, or as long as you want. I just really enjoy the encouragement. I'll also take critiques too. I take critiques very well (as long as they're not outright flames). SUPER-RIDICULOUSLY proud of this chapter.

Questions? PM me!