Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed.

A/N: Here's another fic I've been working on for quite awhile. I really am enjoying this one! It looks like it'll be pretty long. :)

Robert de Sable grinned maliciously raising the golden artifact high above his head. Below him, Malik and Kadar Al-Sayf were desperately fighting off the templars. Like they had choreographed the fight, their swords weaved into their enemies' defenses, and struck their mail or shields, and they always knew where the other was. This much was apparent to de Sable, who watched their fight with evil intent. He was waiting for the right moment to test out the powers of this new artifact, this piece of Eden.

Kadar glanced at Malik, giving a sharp nod as he buried his blade into the exposed leg of a knight. Malik had only time to return the look before he deflected another templar, kicking him viciously away, and then both assassin's were racing towards de Sable. Kadar was closer, and he scaled the walls with amazing speed, Malik only a few seconds behind.

"Foolish assassins! You walk into your own doom!" Robert laughed uproariously, causing Kadar to falter in shock as he cleared the ledge. Kadar blinked out of his stupor, raised his blade, and let out a cry. Robert thrust out the artifact before him. "Let this power take you from my sight! Rush towards your end, vermin!"

The light was blinding. Kadar screamed in fear as he felt it envelop him. The last thing he was able to see was Malik's enraged form spring up from behind de Sable, and the artifact falling, before he blacked out and saw no more.

"You will help him. Teach him all that you know, child, and save us all."

Kadar groaned, flinching at the soreness in his muscles. The ground felt mercilessly cool, biting into his flesh. He could hear voices from somewhere, murmuring. The world was still bright, stinging his eyes… No, that wasn't the light- the room was made of metal. It glinted on occasion, but it was not as bright. Kadar surveyed the room from his position scrawled on the ground. It was strange, unlike anything he knew to exist. There was a large bed beside him, and on his other side was a table made of metal and glass. Who could afford to have a single room done like this? Templars, perhaps, but why would the room for the prisoner be decorated in such a way?

A sudden sting alerted him to the various wounds he'd gotten during the battle. Adrenaline had fueled his numbness, but as it wore off he found injuries of varying severity, the worst located on his shoulder. It felt deep, but not enough to cause serious damage. That's when he discovered that he still had his weapons. Kadar frowned in thought. That meant that both he was not a prisoner and he was with the assassins or another ally, or that the templars thought he was no real threat. Kadar grit his teeth and grabbed the side of the bed, using it to hoist himself up.

There was a body on the bed. He stilled his breath in shock the moment he heard the soft breathing. Kadar stood as quietly as he could, wincing at the noise his weapons made, but the figure did not awaken. He slowly made his way to the head of the bed to look into the man's face. He gasped and sharply recoiled.

"Altair?"

The man jerked away, his dark eyes snapping open. It took only a few seconds to prove that this man was not Altair, however. He gave a short cry of surprise and scrambled backwards, his back slamming into the wall. His eyes were wide with surprise. Kadar's hand immediately went to his blade, though he did not draw it. The Altair-look-alike was calming down and looking him over. Slowly, as if he was afraid to startle Kadar, the man got up from his bed and walked towards him, arms raised in a gesture of peace. Kadar relaxed his grip on his sword- he had his hidden blade if any trouble should occur.

Desmond was confused. He was perplexed. He was utterly, and completely baffled. He'd gone to sleep the previous night, mind filled with thoughts of the final kills he- no, Altair- was supposed to complete. The mystery was beginning to unravel for his ancestor. His dreams were of fights, blood and screaming, the gleam of a blade as it disappeared into the throat of a knight whose eyes stared into his, accusing and fearful.

Desmond hated those dreams. Even worse, he hated when those dreams seemed to bleed into reality, which is what he figured was going on right now. He recognized the clothing almost immediately. The lower ranked assassins stationed at Masyaf wore the same garb. They looked to be about the same age, with equally haggard appearances. It wasn't until he looked into the man's bright blue eyes that he truly recognized him.

Desmond's jaw dropped. He needed to be sure, so he got up slowly, putting up his hands to show he was unarmed as an afterthought. The man's stance relaxed, so Desmond came a bit closer, getting a clear view of his face.

"Oh… my… god…"

The other man now looked just as perplexed, his face showing that he had no idea what Desmond just said.

"… Kadar? Kadar Al-Sayf?" Desmond felt like an idiot, but that sentiment was dashed as soon as the man, now most assuredly Kadar, nodded.

"How do you know my name?" Kadar whispered the words, unsure what to make of this new stranger. He had Altair's face, but he was certainly not Altair… He couldn't be. "You are not Master Altair, right?"

"No, no I'm not Altair…. I just… how the hell did you get here? Why are you in my room?" Desmond's voice was quickly giving way to his disbelief, tinged with exasperation. 'Fuck fuck fuck there are cameras everywhere and either Vidic or Lucy is going to come in here any minute and I have a supposedly dead 12th century assassin in my room!'

Kadar frowned.

"I cannot understand you! My knowledge of the crusader's language is very limited."

Desmond blinked. It occurred to him now that Kadar had not said a word of English since he began speaking. He was speaking Arabic, but Desmond understood him easily. On the flipside, Desmond wasn't sure if he could speak Arabic well enough to communicate.

"Um… well, uh… here goes… My name is Desmond Miles. Do you know how you got here?"Desmond would have winced at his stutters if he wasn't so shocked by the fact that he had just spoken Arabic. He looked up at Kadar, only to see the other man's face frowning with concentration.

"There was a light, and a voice. Robert de Sable had the artifact we-Altair, my brother Malik, and I- were sent to retrieve. I saw my brother reach for me… and then I woke up here." Kadar looked scared now. The reality of what was happening to him had finally caught up with him. He was in a strange land, with no idea of how he got there or how to return.

Desmond was thinking about what to do, when he heard the faint tap of something wet, dripping to the ground. He looked down to see a few droplets of blood on the ground.

"Wha- hey! You're hurt! I mean- ugh, this is going to take some getting used to." Kadar had flinched at Desmond's sudden burst of English, and looked ready to attack. "Stop, stop! I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to tend your wounds. I know it might be hard for you, but would you take off your weapons and armor?" Kadar narrowed his eyes, and once more Desmond raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy, I'm unarmed, and I assure you that if you wanted to attack me you would win easily. It's been a good while since I've had to fight anyone, and no one with your level of training."

Kadar weighed his options, before nodding. "Very well. Do not think of double crossing me, Englishman. I am used to defending myself in any situation." Desmond nodded, not bothering to correct Kadar's assumption, and indicated for Kadar to sit on his bed. Kadar did so after removing his sword, scabbard, and belts, and setting them on the ground within easy reach. Desmond walked into the bathroom, grabbing two towels, wetting one and keeping the other dry. On his way back, he opened the closet to grab one of the many white t-shirts from within- with no actual bandages, this t-shirt should suffice.

When he came back, Kadar was easing his off the thick, dark grey shirt that had been covered by the white robes. Desmond saw various scars from battles before, white lines dancing over the lightly muscled back. A fresh wound, raw and glaring, was dripping blood onto the bed sheets. Desmond winced slightly, and crossed the room quickly, coming around to Kadar's side before settling onto the bed a bit behind him. He brought up the wet cloth and dabbed it around the wound. The tip quickly turned pink, then red. Kadar did not make a noise, instead remaining contemplative as to his situation. The cold clothe was soothing against the wound, even if the texture irritated it. He felt it take broader arcs along his back, cleaning the area against the wound, and for a moment he was reminded of being tended to by the women of Masyaf, the healers and entertainers alike- on occasion they were both. Kadar flushed and banished the thought from his mind. Twice, Desmond got up to re-wet the cloth. When he felt satisfied with the cleanliness of the wound, he picked up the shirt, preparing to cut it into strips.

"Um… May I borrow one of your throwing knives to cut this? It'd be rather hard to do it myself." Kadar blinked, and then nodded. He handed Desmond the knife, but rather than sit with his back turned, he now faced the other man, keeping a second throwing knife within reach. Desmond noticed, but said nothing, instead busily cutting the shirt into thick strips that he could wrap around the wound. Kadar watched him work, once more stricken by how alike he and Altair looked. They could have been the same, were it not for their startlingly different personalities.

The strips were made, and wrapped around the wound. Desmond also cleaned out the smaller cuts and inspected the numerous abrasions left on Kadar's skin. Kadar was embarrassed by the close inspection and quickly brought his limbs back to him when Desmond finished.

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you would be alright."

"It is fine. What do we do now? Will you tell me more about this land I am in? How do you know me?" Kadar wanted to know more. His blue eyes bore into Desmond, now sharp for hints of untruthfulness. Desmond fidgeted under his gaze, unsure how to begin.

"Well, um… Kadar… You lived- were alive- erm… that is, the last year you remember is 1191, correct?" Desmond inwardly scowled at his oh, so clever entry into the subject. Kadar only blinked and nodded. "Ok well… It's the year 2012. I am the descendant of Altair Ibn La'Ahad."

There was a moment of silence. Desmond's twitching only grew under Kadar's disbelieving stare.

"… You lie."

Desmond scoffed. "No, I do not! I know it must be hard to believe- I can't believe I'm explaining this to an 800-year-old should-be-dead assassin sitting on my bed! You shouldn't be here! Fuck!" Desmond didn't realize he'd switched to English mid-rant. "Believe it or not, you have been transported 800 years into the future for some reason and I have no idea what it is. I do know that while it isn't much, I was an Assassin, and I have no intention of lying to or hurting you!"

Kadar was floored by the somewhat volatile man's outburst. Desmond had settled on the bed and put his hands of his head. He was muttering under his breath. Kadar took in his rumpled clothing, the pale pallor to his skin. He was obviously stressed.

"God, this is so fucked. First I get kidnapped by these fucking crazy-ass templar scientists who are definitely gonna kill me, and now this guy! Someone up there must really have it out for m-" Desmond stopped sharply, his head whipping up to look at the door. Kadar heard the noises as well, though he had no idea what it meant. "Shit! Vidic!" Desmond bolted up, picking up the towels and scraps of shirt and throwing them into his closet. He rushed back over to Kadar, staring helplessly at him for a second, before kicking the man's weapons- Kadar cried out in indignation at this- under the bed and throwing Kadar's shirt and robe at him. Kadar just managed to get the clothing on when a sharp hiss startled him so badly that he was on the other side of the room in a half second flat.

"Good morning, Mr. Mi- What the devil?" Desmond flinched from the doctor, for the first time feeling scared. His own position he was pretty sure of, but what would they think of Kadar? Would they kill him? "Mr. Miles, I demand an explanation!"

"Listen, doc, I really got no idea but-"

"Don't give me that! Lucy! How the hell did this man get in here?" Vidic yelled over his shoulder, enraged that somehow another being had gotten into the room without his knowledge.

"What?" Desmond had never been so glad to see Lucy's face peek into the room. His eyes were wide as he glanced from Lucy to Kadar, begging her to come up with something. "Oh… my god… Is that… an assassin? I mean, from…" She could only gesture helplessly at the Animus as words finally failed her.

"What? That's not possible!" A look came into Vidic's eyes, one that Desmond could only refer to, with a shudder, as the 'scientist's gleam.'

"… What is going on, Desmond. If you are truly my ally as you say you are, then explain to me what is happening." Kadar's low tones filled the room, his use of Arabic surprising the two scientists. Desmond could only give him a weak look. He glanced quickly at the two Abstergo employees who had no doubt heard his name being used by the stranger, and were waiting for a response. Desmond's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Kadar… these are my captors. I'm being held prisoner here against my will so that these people may use my mind to explore the memories of my ancestors, specifically Altair."The Arabic fell haltingly from his lips, but it got the expected response nonetheless.

"Arabic? You can't speak Arabic- your file indicated that the only language you ever dabbled in returned with astronomical failure!" Vidic's harsh outburst earned him a glare from Desmond. "You must have learned it from the Animus! Ms. Stillman, did subject 16 ever show these symptoms during his experience with the bleeding effect? And you still haven't told me who this man was, Mr. Miles!"

Desmond scowled at the excitable scientist. "His name is Kadar Al-Sayf, Malik's younger brother. Supposedly, he died in Solomon's temple. And no," Desmond raised a hand stopping Vidic, "I do not know how he got here." Vidic was, for a moment, blessedly silent. Lucy now looked worried. "… I don't know what the bleeding effect is, but I was able to understand him right away, and if I concentrate I can speak Arabic… sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of," Lucy asked. Desmond sighed and scratched his head.

"It's like when I need to words, they just appear in my mind, both how to say it and how to write it. I know Arabic at the time I need to know it. Whatever words or phrases I use I learn permanently… as far as I can tell. I'm explaining to them how I can speak your language, Kadar. I do not know what will happen to you… Be ready, but please, listen to me if I tell you to do something. Please." Desmond addressed the last part to the young assassin in the corner of his room, who could only respond with a swift nod.

"This is fascinating, truly fascinating…" Vidic had the gleam again, and now he was pacing in Desmond's room, coming disturbingly close into his personal space. After a moment of tense silence, Vidic only sighed and shrugged. "Unfortunately, interesting as this may be, we have a job to do. Come along Mr. Miles. I'll arrange for a security detail to come for your little companion." Desmond jerked backwards. He felt very deeply that if he lost sight of Kadar, he would never see him again.

"N-no! I mean," Desmond fumbled for words. Luckily, Lucy came to his rescue again.

"Vidic, we don't have time for this. Remember the last time you had the guards come in here? It took us weeks to fix the cooling system for the Animus! All it takes is one jumpy, trigger-happy guard and our entire system goes down. Deadline, Vidic, deadline." Lucy stood indignantly, trying not to push the issue too hard, lest the older man could see what she was up to. "Besides, the kid seems to trust Desmond, and they speak each other's language." Vidic gave an exasperated sigh and waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine, fine, do what you want! I want Mr. Miles in the Animus now!" Vidic barked out the order as he strutted out of the room. Desmond's face betrayed his anger at the man.

"Come on. Your friend can come too, but make sure he understands that he cannot make a peep. Clear?"

"Crystal. Kadar, they're going to put me into a machine that allows them to see my memories. While I'm in it, you will be allowed to sit next to me, but you must not do anything. It will be a long wait… sorry about this." Desmond looked guilty, but Kadar only nodded and made his way towards the bed. "Wait! Don't go for your weapons! If they know they're there, they will take them away." Desmond's hand was raised, and once more Kadar could only nod, though this time he grit his teeth in aggravation.

"… Desmond, what's going on?"

"N-nothing, nothing… just misspoke. I'm not really used to this, ya know? He'll behave… I think…"

"Okay. Come on, you know the drill." Desmond noticed something now- Lucy was nervous. She was hiding it exceptionally, but her eyes were wider than usual, and darted about the room constantly. Desmond indicated for Kadar to follow, waiting until Kadar was nearer to him before exiting the room first.

Kadar sucked in a breath at the sight. The high glass walls shocked him, but not nearly as much as the view outside. Unbidden, he broke away from Desmond and Lucy and shakily made his way over to the wall, slowing considerably as he got closer. His hood remained lowered, giving the entire group an unhindered view of the awe and tinge of terror in his expression. The ground was so far down, and all around him for as far as he could see were buildings. He could barely see the people below as they milled about. In retrospect, he supposed looking straight down was a bad idea. The sound of his blood pumping in his ears turned into a roar as he remained transfixed at the sight. He turned sharply away, wrenching his gaze through sheer force of will, and there was Desmond, coming up behind him, arms out wide, eyes beseeching.

"Calm, Kadar… Come on, come away from the wall. We have to get you calmed down or else they'll take you away. Come on…" Desmond held out his hand. Kadar put his own trembling hand into his and allowed himself to be led away from the window and into the chair by a strange object. It resembled a bed, but made of metal and certain to be uncomfortable. Once Desmond made sure he was settled down, he squared his shoulders, walked over to the object and lay down upon it. Kadar jumped as another sheet of glass moved by itself over Desmond's head.

"Sorcery?" Kadar hissed. Desmond turned towards him and shook his head.

"No, this is just technology. No sorcery involved. In the future we have-"

"Get on with it, Mr. Miles!" Desmond groaned at the voice, and turned his head up to the glass. It glowed softly, and then the rest of the machine began to glow as well. Kadar flinched, but the glowing did not intensify. Desmond looked as if he went to sleep.

The next few hours were tense. At first Kadar fidgeted, looking nervously between Desmond and the woman-Lucy, he thinks her name was- and it's all he could do to stay seated. Several times he had to berate himself, thinking a full grown assassin would never act as he was acting. Then again, he wasn't a full grown assassin. Kadar frowned. He had spent his life training to be, so he should act like one anyway. What would Malik thi-

That thought froze the very blood in his veins. He was slow to realize it, but now the full implications of what was happening hit him. Malik was dead. Altair was dead. Al Mualim, all the other assassins, people he trained with, grew up with; all of them had long since turned to dust. Kadar began to shake, but he held back the tears. In this moment he began to realize what it felt to be truly, truly alone.

The sun was beginning to set. Kadar's breathing had evened out. He'd missed the worried looks Lucy had given him, becoming numb to everything around him as he fell into his own mind, but now Lucy was up and pushing buttons on the machine.

"What now, Ms. Stillman!"

"Vidic, you're going to want to see this."

Their strange tongue danced over his ears, meaning hidden away from him. Kadar scowled in frustration. Whatever it was, it must have been important. The older man got up and was walking towards the machine. Kadar was not spare a single glance as they remained entranced, watching the screen.

"Is that… is that the apple? But Al Mualim has it!"

Kadar blinked, hearing the name of his old master. Slowly, he got up, trying to be silent, but he need not have bothered. The other two were engrossed. Kadar peaked around at the screen. There were figures on it, speaking. He flinched and almost cursed at the sight of 'sorcery' before remembering Desmond's words. Instead, he continued watching.

'I recognize that… Altair? And Al Mualim! But why do they battle?' Kadar watched in shock as Al Mualim created copies of himself, striking at the master assassin. Altair flinched away from the blows, but a few landed. Kadar found himself gripping his side where his blade should have been, wanting to join the fray, but still unsure who he would assist. He flinched, violently, as Altair struck their master down, and from his hands rolled the treasure from the temple.

The sight of that golden orb struck his memory. It was the last thing he saw, and obviously it was of some importance. Altair gave his blessing to the older man, and Kadar was more confused than he'd ever been. 'Now even my allies look like enemies!' There was something going on behind Altair. The apple started shining in an array of colors, causing Kadar to reflexively step back. That's when the other two noticed him.

"Ah!" Lucy jumped at the sound of Vidic's cry, barely holding in an embarrassing cry herself at the sight of the younger Al-Sayf brother. "What the devil are you doing here? Sit back down!"

"Vidic, he doesn't understand you! Might I also warn you about yelling at our trained assassin? You might spook him!" Lucy barked, unworried that she was upsetting Vidic. Vidic gave her an irate look and opened his mouth, but he was interrupted when Kadar stepped towards the screen, resting his hand on a corner of it. Lucy looked down, and realized what he was looking at.

"Malik… my dear brother…" Kadar's voice was heavy with grief. He noticed absently that Malik wore the garb of a Dai, and that he was missing his arm, but all he thought about was the fact that his brother was lost to him forever. He jumped at a touch on his elbow. It was the woman. She was giving him a sad look, but her gaze dropped fast. The screen suddenly went blank, showing words and letters he didn't understand, and the woman gently nudged him towards the chair. Kadar sat down heavily, the fight rushing out of him. He heard a hissing noise as the glass disappeared from over Desmond's head. Desmond got up, covering his face with a hand and groaning.

"What the hell…?"

"I demand to know what happened."Kadar spoke swiftly, and Desmond's head whipped up to look at him. His mouth opened to begin to answer, when there was suddenly a commotion from the side. Kadar looked past him and saw three men in black clothes behind another wall of glass. Several words were exchanged, some of them yelled. For a moment, Desmond tensed, but then he relaxed once more. The scientists stalked out, leaving Desmond behind. Desmond was oddly silent, staring at the floor fixedly. Kadar got up, walking to Desmond's other side. He was about to ask what was wrong, but he drew back, letting out a low hiss. Desmond's eyes were gold. It was a look he recognized well. "You have the gift of Altair's vision." Desmond snapped out of his trance.

"… There are marks all over the floor written … in blood I think… It makes no sense, none of it does!" Desmond put his head in his hands. Kadar watched for a moment, silent.

"Desmond, I need to know what happened. I put my trust into you," Kadar began, words firm enough to stir Desmond into reacting.

"Right, right… Altair fought against Al Mualim, who betrayed all the assassins of Masyaf. He used the artifact from Solomon's Temple, the piece of Eden, to control the minds of your brothers. Altair, Malik and his men were spared it's effects."

"I saw him, in the glass by the machine. He… he looked… worn." Kadar glanced away, rubbing his arm to cover his sorrow. Desmond only nodded.

"He lost his arm because of what happened at Solomon's Temple. He felt your loss deeply, believing you had died," Desmond paused at the look of pain on the other man's face. Kadar looked near tears, exposing a side completely different to the battle-worn assassin journeyman he'd encountered hours earlier. "I'm sorry… It took a few years, but Altair changed and won Malik's trust back. It was only together that Altair was able to overthrow Al Mualim." Kadar only nodded, showing he'd heard.

"I see. Thank you for telling me. Now, what is going on here?" Kadar moved his gaze around the room, indicating towards the machine with his chin.

"These people are templars, except maybe for Lucy, the woman you saw earlier." The information sent Kadar reeling.

"Templars?"

"Yes." Desmond's response was curt, bringing Kadar's attention sharply to him. "I don't know what they plan to do with us. I believe they want me to be alive, for now. They have need of my memories…"

Kadar could only stare at the other man in shock.

"And you will just give it to them? You will just lay down and let them take what they want from you? You say you are an assassin, yet I see no evidence of it now!" Kadar yelled at him, using his confusion and sorrow to fuel the angry outburst. Desmond's face contorted with rage.

"I have no choice! Unlike you, I do not have years of experience and training at my disposal! The last time I ever trained at all, I was 16 years old- 8 years ago! I only ever learned basic things, and nothing about breaking out of a templar base-"

"Excuses! You are worse than any novice I've met. You did not even try to leave!" Kadar's words made Desmond flinch. Desmond knew he was right. He'd let the templars climb inside his mind and pull out whatever they needed. He could have fought, but where would that have landed him! In a coma, that's where. Kadar gave an aggravated sigh. "Well, what tools do we have at our disposal? I have my weapons, and I am an able fighter. My wounds will not hinder me much."

"Your weapons will, more likely than not, have little effect unless you can get close to your targets. There are modern day weapons unlike anything you have ever seen. A tiny metal weapon will shoot little bits of metal that will kill you, faster than any bow and arrow by a lot." Desmond struggled to put as much emphasis into his voice as possible, but the disbelief still colored Kadar's face.

"What about the woman?"

"Lucy? She can't help us without risking herself. Her hands are tied."

"Will she not want to escape as well?"

"I don't know, and I can't ask her without raising suspicion," Desmond huffed, the barrage of questions hurting his already taxed mind.

"Well, how about getting out of this room?" Kadar turned away from Desmond in favor of surveying their surroundings, pointedly avoiding the windows facing the outside. Desmond threw up his arms in exasperation, and also surveyed the room.

"The main exit is that door, and I don't know how to open it. I have the means of exiting my room, and accessing that room there," Desmond pointed to the conference room, "But there are no paths leading out from either."

Kadar scowled. Seeing that he'd stopped the flow of questions, for now at least, Desmond returned to looking at the scrawled blood writings on the floors and walls. Kadar followed him distractedly. Eventually, both ended up in Desmond's room, where he let out a low hiss and gazed at something Kadar could not see on the far wall. Kadar shrugged and picked up his discarded belongings, placing them all back onto his body. He stayed still for a moment, gathering his thoughts and watching the other man irritably, until the sudden noise of the door opening made him whirl. It was the woman, but wearing different clothes now. Kadar zeroed in on the blood on her shirt, and a hand was on his sword immediately. He, however, was only spared a glance, as immediately Desmond began talking with her, and then running out.

"Get in the Animus, Desmond!"

"What's going on Lucy?"

"Desmond we don't have a lot of time! Just get in the Animus, please!"

Kadar watched Desmond's face closely, watching for signs that they would be attacked, but was surprised when he simply went to lie down on the machine once more. He was only in the machine for a few minutes. The woman, Lucy, kept glancing nervously at the door, back to the screen, then back to the door, as if she was expecting enemies at any moment. Kadar began to realize that she probably was, so he stepped forward, causing her eyes to jump to his, then nodded and faced the door, hand on his blade. He heard her sigh, a combination of relief and frustration. It was only a little while after that that he heard the machine turn off and Desmond get up.

"Ugh… I'm gonna need a second here…"

"There isn't time, Desmond. We have to leave." Kadar watched Desmond get up from the machine on shaky legs, then take a deep breath and straighten out, looking determinedly at the door. Then they were running. Kadar brought up the end of the group, following Desmond following Lucy. His cursed as two guards came around a corner, but what happened next he did not expect in the least. Lucy dispatched the guards easily, moving seamlessly from blow to blow, leaving the two guards battered and unconscious on the ground.

"Holy shit!" Desmond's tone, and possibly his cry, echoed Kadar's own feelings.

'She has definitely been trained well. An assassin?'

Lucy walked forward, keeping their group moving. They walked down hallways, and onto a box that turned out to be a moving platform, one that Kadar had to be coaxed onto by Desmond. When they reached the bottom, Kadar was taken aback to see a huge room, filled entirely with the same machines. Guards patrolled the hallways, and Kadar itched to sink his blade into the neck of one. He was about to, when a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned, and saw Lucy who regarded him with a steady gaze. Anger flared up, but died just as quickly. 'Alright, this is your arena.' Desmond watched as the two came to a silent understanding, and to his surprise, felt a little jealous.

They continued through the room of machines. Kadar regarded each room with barely restrained fear, uncertain as to what the templars were doing with the horde of machines, but knowing it wasn't good. They had almost made it when Desmond stumbled, alerting a nearby guard. The three dashed around a corner, hoping they'd escaped notice. Kadar thought for a moment, and then climbed onto one of the glass boxes, staying low to the top of it. As the guard came around, Kadar slinked behind him and quickly covered his mouth while he drove his blade into the man's heart through the back. The man died as Kadar gently set his body down, whispering words in Arabic before closing the man's eyes. Desmond grabbed Kadar's arm and tugged him forward as they ran the last few meters to where Lucy was waiting by another large door.

"Fuck! I thought this card would work, but it must be on a separate system and I don't have a code for the door!" Lucy looked dismayed. Kadar didn't understand the entire problem, so he turned to Desmond. Desmond had a strange expression on his face.

"Wait…" There was that look again in his eyes- eagle vision. Kadar waited while he pressed the numbers on the wall, watching for guards. There was a small noise, and the sound of Desmond muttering.

"Desmond, I would hurry whatever it is you are doing. The guards approach from either side," Kadar murmured, pulling out a throwing knife.

"I know, I'm trying! Come on…." Desmond jammed another code in. Again he got the same reaction. Kadar readied his knife as he heard the boots click closer… The door suddenly hissed open. Lucy turned to Desmond, about to say something, but Kadar grabbed both their shoulders and pushed them inside, waiting until the doors were closed to pocket the knife.

"How did you do that?" Lucy was looking at him with curiosity, and a twinge of apprehension. Desmond frowned at the look.

"I… I don't know…" They spoke more, but Kadar tuned them out. Instead, he watched as they descended down a tunnel ringed with red lights, and he felt distinctly out-of-place. The others seemed unworried about their current environment, but the strange world made Kadar feel ill. Instantly he steeled himself against the feeling, shame flooding his body for letting his emotions get in the way of a mission.

'That's all this is… just a mission. Achieve your goal without harming innocents, without bringing attention to yourself, and without…' Kadar glanced briefly at his momentary allies. '… Without endangering the brotherhood…'

The doors opened to a clearly underground expanse. A group of guards waited for them at the bottom and raced towards them. Silently, Kadar thanked whatever mystical beings were watching for the chance to work off his frustration. In the blink of an eye, Kadar had drawn his sword and was charging into the fray. The first two guards were not given the chance to dwell on the fact that their fists made them woefully underprepared to fight the skilled assassin- his blade made short work of their throats. The next two were dispatched with a bit more effort on his part. One distracted him, picking up a nightstick off a dead guard to use, while the other attacked him from behind. Kadar slid gracefully under his form, dodging the fist and lining up his sword with the man's torso in one fluid move. He saw behind the now dead man that the rest of the guards had attacked Desmond and Lucy, though the two were holding their own.

'Such wild swings. He knows how to kill a man with his hands, but he will tire himself out in a real fight.' Kadar quickly turned and finished the other guard off with a last, unhurried blow. All the guards were dead, bleeding out, or unconscious. Kadar cleaned his sword on the garment of one of them before sprinting after Desmond to a strange machine. Desmond and Lucy argued for a moment before Desmond faced him. He could tell by the look on the other man's face that he was not going to like what he was going to say.

"She needs us to climb into the back so that the others don't see us." Desmond's face was sullen. Kadar only looked at him confusedly.

"The back…?" Kadar peered behind Desmond to see the small compartment. "What? She is daft in the head! There is no way we will both fit in there!" Kadar took a step back, extremely irritated.

"We can if you take off your weapons and don't mind being extremely close to me." Desmond blushed at this and rubbed the back of his neck. Clearly he wasn't too comfortable with the idea. Lucy suddenly gripped his arm tight, spouting something in angry English.

"We need to go Desmond! Get it together or knock him out and throw him in! I'm sorry but if we don't get out now, they'll take us back and we- Kadar and I- will be dead!" Desmond flinched at her tone.

"Please… brother. We don't have much time!" Desmond pleaded with Kadar in a last attempt. Kadar felt numb for a second to process his words. He felt anger pool in his veins. Desmond's use of the address only fueled his fury. Still, he recognized their urgency and nodded. Desmond climbed into the trunk first, scooting so his back was pressed firmly against the seat. Kadar quickly divested himself of his weapons, handing them to Lucy. The remaining space in the trunk was woefully little, but Kadar was a small enough man, and with some maneuvering, he was able to squeeze into the trunk, facing Desmond. Lucy murmured something then shut the lid of the trunk. Instantly that feeling of being ill returned to Kadar, this time accompanied by dizziness. The feeling did nothing to levy his anger. As soon as they started moving, Kadar reached out to where he supposed Desmond's neck might be. He missed, and instead caught the other man's chin, but this was good enough. Kadar dragged Desmond close so that the other man might see his gaze in what little light there was.

"You have no earned the right to call me brother. Assassin though you may call yourself, you have not proven yourself in skill, or manner," Kadar hissed. Vaguely he remembered that, in most ways, Altair had also not acted according to their code the last they met, but he pushed the thought back. Desmond's eyes were wide with confusion, uncomprehending of Kadar's sudden aggression. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and in that moment Kadar was able to see his confusion, curiosity, and the merest hint of fear. He wondered if Desmond saw the same in his own eyes. Desmond cast his gaze down, unable to move his head due to the grip on his chin. He nodded as much as he could.

"Then… would you… would you show me how?" Desmond bit his lip, unsure what the request would bring about. Kadar was so stunned that his anger vanished. He slowly let go of the chin, then huffed to keep up the appearance of irritation. Desmond did not seem to notice his change in demeanor, keeping his eyes downcast- embarrassed he had to ask, perhaps?

"… Very well, Desmond; I will teach you what I know."

A/N: Well, I hope you liked it! Sorry if it seemed to go somewhat fast.

Some notes: Desmond speaks the Arabic that I think Altair might have used during his life. I'm not going to delve too deeply into the evolution of Arabic in the past 800 or so years because I don't even know how to approach that topic, so a lot of liberties will be taken in that regard. Sorry. :