Spoilers: Certain plots for Bloodlines. Go watch/play it first!
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Chapter 10
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The calming trickle of water from a fountain sets a tranquil ambiance within the Garden. Vibrant wildflowers dot the lush, green grass and is accentuated by the white splendor of marble columns.
This is where the final battle against Al Mualim had taken place. Where he had violently taken his Master's life.
Altair takes deep breath. Malik paces in front of him, his footsteps falling on stone tiles.
"Let me get to the point. The death of Robert De Sable is like the pebble that set off ripples. Templars are withdrawing and regrouping at the island of Cyprus. Our intelligence is stationed there, but we have limited information on their activities."
Altair finishes his thought for him, "There is a chance that they are planning a counterattack against Maysaf. That is why you called me back so urgently."
The older man nods. "There are also rumors that the Templars have found themselves another Piece of Eden. It is good idea for you to investigate further on this, and the place to start would be Acre, in the Templar's hold."
"When will you have me leave?" Altair's words are brisk, impersonal. Things are better this way. His mission laying in front of him, clear and direct.
Malik casts him a sideways glance. "You do not wish to spend more time to…rest?"
A smirk appears from underneath the white hood.
"If you are referring to the girl, you are sadly mistaken about the nature of our relationship. She is my responsibility, and I do not wish harm upon her. Or do I wish to see her as one of the 'maidens' of the Garden. You know of my views in regards to that establishment," Altair shoots Malik with a pointed look.
Malik shrugs it off effortlessly. Like water off a duck's back.
"Very well. What will you have me do with her?"
"Nothing. Just keep an eye on her and make sure she does not get into too much trouble. Jin is a medicine-maker, so she is able to help at the infirmary. She will not get in the way."
The older Dai regards his superior carefully. It does not escape his notice that Altair's face changes when he talks of her, or the way he casually tosses in her name without a second thought.
A thin line of contemplation appears on Malik's mouth. He knows many who were lead astray by a woman. They became careless, distracted, and lost sight of the Creed. Many had fallen to the sins of temptation, and he cannot believe the same will befall on his friend.
So he says nothing. Altair is not a foolish man. And he will not a let a waif of a girl dull his blade.
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"Master Malik has requested your presence at the dining halls. Dinner will be served once you are present," the young apprentice relays the message to her, and promptly leaves.
Jin is dumbfounded. It has only been two days since Altair's departure, and already the antagonistic man wants something to do with her?
The girl swallows her nervousness, and makes her way to the dinning halls. As she enters, she notices that the spacious room is dimly lit, with sparse amounts of candlelight scattered within.
Malik is seated at the head, and when she approaches, he gestures for her to take the seat at the end of the table. If there were other seats present, she would have debated sitting in those to purposely disobey his orders.
She sits. Stares at the man across from her. He is dressed from head to toe in somber black, as if he exists to define the color.
"I must apologize for my rudeness in our first meeting. Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Malik Al Sayaf. I am a loyal servant to the Creed and I act as the leader of this organization in Altair's absence," he says, and then waits expectantly.
Jin bits down on her lip. She does not know how much Altair has told him, but more importantly, what he has not. There is not much she can say in the form of introduction anyways. No family history, no valid reasons of why she is here.
"People call me Jinan. I am here because I have forsaken my home and the people who I once lived with. I had nowhere to go for safety, that is, until I met Altair. Which is why I am here."
A dark eyebrow quirks up in interest.
"How did you meet Altair?"
"He fell into my room, unconscious and bleeding, and I tended his wounds."
The eyebrow rises up further.
"He fell?"
"Yes. From the roof."
"A stranger, armed and dangerous, intrudes into your chambers, and yet your first thought was not to alert the authorities?" His caustic, scolding tone grates on her nerves. Jin grits her teeth.
"No, because I know my mistress would not appreciate that sort of attention to the brothel."
A credulous expression comes across his sharp features. "You lived in a brothel!"
Jin bites down on her tongue. What a slip. "Yes," she replies warily.
Malik's eyes are clawing over her entire body as if she bears a disease. Jin wants to add more, but it seems like the damage is done. Thankfully, the servant chooses that moment to serve food, providing a much needed distraction.
Before she can make the first bite though, a comment slices through the taut air.
"I am disappointed at him once again. To think, compromising the Brotherhood over a mere prostitute."
The fork she is holding clatters to the plate. Jin shoots up, upsetting the chair and almost toppling it.
"Do not," she hisses angrily, "assume things about me. Just because I lived in a brothel does not mean I am a prostitute. And I am not involved with Altair in the manner in which you are suggesting. I have never been treated as inhospitably as these past few days. Not even given a chance to catch my breath and already you are interrogating me as if I am some sort of criminal!"
She is beyond caring for manners. Indignant rage colors her face, while Malik looks on, bemused.
"Then what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Altair?"
His words knocks the wind out of her lungs. Jin stares back Malik, stunned and speechless. She has no answer for that question, and for him to even have the audacity to ask such a question-
Making a frustrated huff, she spins and stalks out of the halls. Behind her, a treble of dark laughter rises out of the man, and she shuts her eyes in exasperation.
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Once again, he finds himself crossing swords with her. Icy blue eyes flashing, her sword clanging a warning of death, and mouth set in a grim scowl.
Maria of the Templars.
"Well what a surprise. The man who spared my neck, but has taken my life," snarls the dark-haired woman as she charges at him.
Altair dodges one of her strikes easily. He sidesteps, and delivers a blow with his hand to her midsection.
Maria stumbles a tiny step. He scrutinizes her carefully. She seems to have lost weight. Her strokes are not quite as clean as before.
As she lunges at him again, he disarms her quickly and forces her to the ground, hidden blade pressed against her throat.
"Returned to finish me off?" she taunts mockingly.
Altair replies, "Not just yet. I want information. Why are the Templars sailing for Cyprus?"
A smirk appears on her face. It infuriates him, and yet at the same time, pleases him to see that she is not scared even in the face of death.
"It has been a long, dirty war, Assassin. Everyone deserves some time for recreation."
Altair leans in closer, impatience emanating from his body. "The more you tell me, the longer you live. So I shall ask again," his voice drops to a dangerous whisper, "Why the retreat to Cyprus?"
"What retreat? King Richard has brokered a truce with Saladin, and your order is leaderless is it not? Once we recover the Piece of Eden, you shall be the one running," retorts Maria.
Altair sighs. Arguing with women is not his strong point. Not only does it feel like ramming into a wall, he cannot follow their sense of logic.
"I will save my breath. The Piece of Eden is well hidden," he answers as he rises to his feet. Maria sits up warily.
"Altair," she addresses him cautiously, "Weigh your options carefully. The Templars are willing to pay you a great price for that relic."
Altair regards her, and for a split second sorrow passes through his features.
"They already have, have they not?"
Immediately, Maria's eyes closes with grief. Robert De Sable's death has the greatest impact on her. Not only did she lost her lover, her position and credibility within the ranks has rapidly fallen. The current Grand Master of the order disapproves of a woman among the ranks, and he has taken actions to strip her of her privileges. He ordered her to stay at Acre and supervise the stronghold: another menial, meaningless task which she failed ultimately because of the infuriating man in front of her.
Numb, Maria does not protest when he binds her hands together, and rids her of her weapons. She does not speak as she is taken prisoner and roughly pushed inside the cargo space of a ship.
She can only pray, and hope, that he does not find the baby.
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Why was I unable to answer that question?
Jin's head is swimming with confusion. She makes her way through the sparse undergrowth slowly. Dawn's faint rays has hardly illuminated the rocky terrain around Masyaf, and she needs to be careful as she makes her way down to the creek.
A kind elder at the infirmary has informed her of the location in which he collects his medicinal herbs, and she eagerly sought out the place. Although the woodlands is not dense, it is nevertheless similar to walking into a treasure trove. Damascus' hot and searing climate, as well as Jerusalem sandy dessert terrain does not even hold a candle to the diverse amount of foliage she finds now.
Friends? Companions? He saved my life many times but what does that mean? What exactly am I to him? … Lovers? But we have not -
"Who goes there?"
A dagger slices through the air, just inches before her face, and digs painfully into the tree trunk behind her.
Jin yelps in surprise. She loses her footing on a moss-covered rock, and tumbles down the slope.
"…uh." She groans in pain. Jin carefully feels herself, making sure that none of her bones are broken.
The voice addresses her again. "What a dignified entrance. What pressing matter urges you seek an audience with me at this hour?"
Jin recognizes the harsh tone, looks up, and immediately regrets it.
Malik is standing in knee-high water, naked to the waist, and glaring at her intrusion.
"I-I was gathering herbs. For my m-medicine. Because I need more. To make the medicine," she fumbles embarrassedly as she averts her gaze else where.
A dark, caustic scoff. One that makes the hair on her back stand on end.
"Then you will not mind allowing me some privacy whilst I bathe."
She scowls at him. "By all means. I will take my leave." She quickly stands up, but a dull ache in her left ankle unbalances her. The girl gasps out in pain as she crumples to the ground once more.
"You injured yourself." His voice is neutral, stating a fact that is plain and obvious.
More like you injured me. If you had not thrown that dagger at my face…
But Jin chooses not to reply. Instead, she braces herself up on her knees, and slowly this time, stands up with her weight on her right foot. She limps toward her fallen basket, and begins to tediously collect its spilled contents.
"You cannot possibly be thinking of walking back in that condition."
Jin whips around to face him, and he almost chuckles at the sight of her closed eyes. Her sense modesty is quite ironic.
"Well what other choice do I have? It is not like anyone will come and fetch me," she retorts crossly.
"Once I finish, I shall offer you my assistance," Malik says carefully.
Jin's eyes open in surprise. She scans his face for any sign of sarcasm or deceit, but finds none. He is not lying. But then her eyes drift down to his torso, in which she inevitably begins staring at the stump below his left shoulder.
The skin is puckered and stretched to the end, in which a rounded stub is all the remains of an arm. She can tell the wound was cauterized, and the surrounding flesh is heavily scarred.
"You wonder how I lost my arm."
His voice is resigned, not full of sarcasm as it usually is. She does not answer. It is the truth, but she does not like to admit that he can read her so easily.
"This is the result of excessive pride. Pride consumed this man, clouded his judgment, and during a mission, he risked all of our lives because he overly confident of his abilities. For that, I have lost my brother and this arm."
Fascinated, her green eyes rises to meet with his. "Do you hate him? That man?"
Malik studies her carefully. It is obvious that she truthfully does not know. Her face is guileless and innocent like a spring flower. He closes his eyes tiredly.
"No. He has changed. No longer the foolish man that he was before. The man who was at fault for the death of my brother and for my arm is dead. Instead, I see him spreading his wings, and flying high above the strife of his past."
He lets his words sink in, noting how the realization sinks in her face. Her lips part in a slight gasp, whilst her eyelashes dance like butterflies against the wind. The way she is returning his gaze is quite unnerving. So unlike any other woman he has encountered.
Silence nestles peacefully between them. Jin settles on a flat rock while Malik washes himself methodically and then dons his usual black robes. He briskly strides over to where she is sitting, and bends slightly forward, offering his hand.
She takes it, and is immediately surprised at the ease in which he pulls her up. His grip on her forearm is like iron, and he nimbly slings her arm over his shoulder. After making sure she is secure, he straightens up, and the same arm slides around to support her under her right arm.
Malik's arm is supporting her quite comfortably, and he does not seem like he is exerting much energy. But the proximity in which their bodies are touching, it stirs something inside of her. She is pressed tightly to his side, so that he shoulders her weight as she leans on him, and can feel the flexing of his muscles in each step.
"T-this is, quite unsightly.." Jin mumbles in embarrassment as they trudge their way uphill. Truthfully, she has never been physically close to any male except for … Altair.
Her face immediately flushes at the memories.
Malik, who interprets the blush at face value, replies curtly, "Given my physical limitations, this is the only plausible way we can travel. Please bear with it."
Jin turns to answer, but then suddenly notices how close their faces are. His eyes, black onyx shining with intelligence, watches her carefully. She shuts her mouth, and quickly averts her gaze elsewhere.
The trek uphill is swallowed in tense silence. As the cumbersome pair make their slow, painful process through the woods, and Jin wonders if they will ever make it back to civilization.
Thankfully, they were intercepted halfway through by a passing scout making his rounds. Malik releases his hold on her, and Jin lets out the breath she has been unconsciously holding. The young, un-hooded man who looks to be in his late adolescence, gently lifts her on his back while uttering apologies.
Jin turns around to thank Malik, but he brushes by them without another word. She stares at his slowly disappearing back, and wonders to herself why he engraves such a lonesome silhouette onto the horizon.
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His prisoner is sitting across from him. Altair gives her a cursory glance, and the light seeping through the cracks of wood catches a hint of gold.
"That's a lovely ring," he casually comments.
"It was given to me by Robert De Sable, when he took me under his wing. This is about all I have left of my ties to the Templars now," Maria replies bitterly as she bites down on her lip. She had almost let out her secret.
"Did you study philosophy, Maria?" he asks abruptly. She looks up sharply at him. The way he says her name, too familiar and with his accent, is like a stab through flesh.
She impulsively shifts farther away from the man. "I have read scraps, nothing more."
"The philosopher Empedocles preached that all life on earth began simply in rudimentary forms. Hands without arms, heads without bodies, eyes without faces. He believed that all these early forms combined, very gradually over time, create all forms of life we see before us. Interesting, eh?"
A low chuckle emits from her throat. "I do not see the point in your ramblings," Maria lightly teases back.
Listening to her voice, Altair concedes Maria to be a handsome woman. One who is full of strength and dignity, and even in the face of danger she can still muster the will to laugh. He wonders how Jin would fare in such an unpleasant situation.
The sharp peals of the ship's bell announce the end of their trip, and successfully put an end to his internal musings.
He gets up, and not unkindly, pulls Maria up by her arm. As he helps her walk across the wooden floor of the rocking ship, Altair answers, "Only a mind free of impediments, capable of grasping the chaotic beauty of the world. This is our greatest asset."
Maria regards him warily. "But is chaos something to be celebrated? Is disorder a virtue?"
"It presents us with challenges, yes. But freedom yields greater rewards than the alternative. The order and peace that the Templar seeks requires servility and imprisonment."
"Hm… I know the feeling," admits Maria, albeit slowly. Her whole reason for joining the Templars, leaving her homeland behind, was to seek out freedom. She cannot imagine living out her life as a pampered lady, hiding behind a mask of smiles and entertaining courtesans.
Altair flashes her a momentary smile and then cuts loose the bindings on her wrist. She look up at him questioningly, but then her gaze diverts to behind him.
Two haggard and dirty-looking pirates approaches them from behind, brandishing swords. Altair jerks his head to the nearby ladder and Maria, taking the hint, quickly climbs up. He is not far behind her when her foot suddenly deals him a sharp kick to the face.
Unbalanced and caught unaware, he drops to the bottom. He whips around, and sees the pirates advancing rapidly with deadly scimitars in hand. A light curse escapes his mouth, but a slight smile materializes on his lips.
It seems his wily prisoner will not go down without a fight.
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The evening air in the garden is cool and refreshing. Jin breathes in deeply, and detects the subtle hints of sensual jasmine. She is done with her meal, and prepares to embark on her daily stroll through the garden before retiring for the night.
The garden is the quintessence opposite of the fortress. Tall, unyielding stone edifices are actually hiding a tiny piece of paradise within their imposing walls. Where the fortress is gray, regal and rigid, the garden behind is a lazy, sprawling stretch of green foliage that calls to the wandering eye with temptation.
As Jin steps down from the marble steps and into the soft grass, she is careful to not put too much weight on her injured ankle. The elder at the infirmary has expertly placed a splint on her leg and told her not to put stress on it.
So Jin limps her way to a nearby gazebo and sits quietly under its white railings.
Not for the first time that day, she wonders how Altair is doing. Whether he is well, and who is tending to his injuries. If there will be anyone to scold him for being reckless. To help him gather information. Or to listen to his reflective musings.
The corners of her mouth tilt in a wistful curve. She leans back into the cushion of leaves, and relives their time in Jerusalem. How gentle his hands are as they apply the salve to her back. The molten gold shining from his eyes right before he kissed her. And the warmth she found in his embrace, as they laid sleeping in one bed.
Malik watches the girl sitting within the white and yellow blossoms from the balcony of his office. She looks so lovelorn. The way she is gazing off in the distance, her eyes unfocused, but at the same time seeing something no one else is privy to.
He scoffs under his breath.
She is a fool. Not only will her affections cause an unwanted distraction for Altair, but if her feelings are somehow reciprocated, then she will become his Achille's heel.
A fatal weakness. One that no assassin should have.
But Malik does not move. He watches how the twilight warms her pale skin, and how the leaves swirl around her in ethereal grace. A golden-haired daughter of the garden, that is what she is. And he has to grudgingly admit, she creates a beautiful painting.
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"It is that madwoman sir! She has gone on a rampage…two guards are dead!"
"Let her play. She has served her purpose," commands the Grand Master of the Templars as he and his guards take their leave from the dungeon. Not a moment after their footsteps fade, Altair detaches himself from the shadows and lets himself in the same door they left from.
The air within the cell is damp, musty with the scent of mold. There is barely any illumination in the vast blackness, and he can barely make out the outlines of columns and the mangled bodies of men on the stone floor. Markos, the local resistance leader, informed him of an Oracle who is in service of the Templars. He surmises that she is the reason why the Templars are always one step ahead of them, always knowing which move they will make.
But Altair thinks otherwise. He knows there must be a traitor amongst the men, but he still accepted this mission nevertheless.
A hiss from the darker regions of the prison cell, and then a voice calls out, "Pagan blood…I know your name sinner…I know why you are here…"
Altair pads quietly towards the voice, his hidden blade unsheathed. The chamber is vast, and the female voice echoes from all directions.
A heavy thump announces her arrival from the ceiling. He sinks into a defensive crouch.
"God guide my claws… God grant me strength to break your bones…"
With a screech, the witch launches herself at him. He sidesteps her easily, but suddenly there is a sharp pain on his cheek. He gingerly touch his face, and finds himself bleeding from a slight cut.
He takes another look at her. She holds no knife. But on her wrists are jagged edges of broken metal, presumably what is left from shackles. The witch's movements are just as unpredictable. Sometimes she is upright, sometimes she drops down to all fours. She swings wildly, but there is almost a fanatical strength behind her attacks.
Altair blocks. Feints to his left as she leaps, and catches her arm midair. He pushes her against a column, and holds her arms at her sides.
Her eyes have lost all semblances of awareness. They are pools of milky white and her dark hair is plastered to her face in disarray. The smell of sweat, blood, and urine is emanates from her body.
Even in defeat, she spits daggers at him, "I am His instrument… I fear no pain… nor death!"
"Tell me, what secrets did you tell the Templars?" Altair demands. Her head lolls back, and she glares at him with a bloodshot eye.
"Not without purpose I deal in misery… By God's command… I am His instrument…" she babbles on. He sighs, takes in her pathetic state, and comes to a decision.
"Whatever the Templars have done to you my Lady, they have done you wrong. Forgive me for this…" he mutters as his blade finds her spine. A quick and painless death. He murmurs a light prayer for her as she lays her body on the ground.
His left hand touches something cool on her neck. Underneath the cruel metal collar responsible for the angry red welts on her neck, there is a gold chain. He pulls on it sharply, breaks it off from the corpse, and takes it outside.
In better light, Altair makes out a small coin engraved with an insignia hanging from the chain. It looks strangely familiar. But the sounds of approaching guards alerts him to danger, so he tucks it within his satchel, and slinks back into the shadows.
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"Teach me how to fight."
Malik looks up from the series of maps he was deciphering. Jin stands in front of his desk. Her shoulders set and mouth pressed in a determined line.
He slowly straightens up. "And what, may I ask, brought about this idea?"
"I need to become stronger. Become more useful."
"So that the next time Altair leaves for a mission, he will take you with him?" Malik finishes her unspoken thought for her. The slight widening of her eyes answers his suspicions.
"Do not be presumptuous. Altair works alone, and will always work alone. No matter how hard you train, how much you give up for him, it will be a merely another grain of sand in a desert. The best help you can offer is to just stay out of harm's way."
Emerald green tightens in anger at his words. Malik assumes a bored expression, and bends over his maps, silently dismissing her.
Jin refuses to leave. "I need to be able to defend myself. I cannot have him saving me every single time."
"I see the logic in that. However, you must be dull if you think I can spare the time to train you."
"Which is why I ask you to place me under the guidance of Master Husam," Jin replies with a suggestion of a grin.
Malik regards her carefully. No doubt she has already asked the ex-assassin sword master multiples times, only to be rejected.
"That is unlikely. You are not a member of the Creed. Moreover, you are a woman. To have him teach you is-"
"What difference does it make? I am another willing student. More so because becoming his student will be an honor and a privilege rather than a right," Jin counters.
He shoots her a warning look. "You are testing my patience."
"Good, because it seems like you are a very patient man," she replies in a sarcastic manner. Not unlike his own.
Malik stares at her. Jin stares back.
He can feel the quiet strength radiating from her body. In the firmness of her posture and the light in her eyes. He closes his eyes tiredly, and wonders how Altair manages to handle this girl.
"Let me look into this matter. I will need to discuss it with Master Husam," Malik answers carefully.
Jin beams at him. She turns and heads down the stairs with lightness in her steps.
A chuckle finally makes its way out of his mouth. Malik covers his face, half in exasperation and half in absurdity.
He sends a swift, hushed prayer to the heavens. For Altair to return. Quickly.
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The oil lamp creates a warm orange glow within the cabin. The rhythmic dipping and rising of the ship is calming after one gets accustomed to it.
Altair dips his quill in the ink well and continues his thought on the crisp paper.
Our origins seem chaotic, unintended. With purpose and being instilled solely by the passage of time. Imposed by nature- and later, by men. What should we do with this rare gift of life?
"You have been writing for quite some time. More priceless teachings of Empedocles?" A teasing voice asks him from behind. Altair does not need to turn to know who it is.
Maria situates herself behind his chair and leans over. They have been traveling together by ship for three days. Learning about each other as well as each other's cultures. He finds her company a welcome distraction and her a captivating character.
She also comes from a culture in which women are viewed as inferior beings. Their options are severely limited in contrast to those of men. She has given up much to join the Templars, and now just like him, she wanders aimlessly, her original dream shattered and herself a lost soul.
"Not quite. I am writing of the Piece of Eden," Altair replies as he gestures to the tiny object resting on the wooden desk.
"Keeping a record of the treasure is dangerous is it not?" she asks quietly.
Altair tilts his head to glance at her. "Yes, but so is having it fall into the wrong hands. As long as there are informed people, then I shall place my trust in their choices."
"Ever the optimist," she lightly teases. He smiles back and then finishes the last sentence. Placing the quill back in its rest, he turns towards her.
"I assume there is something you would like to tell me?"
"Yes," she starts, and then pauses. For the first time, he sees her uncomfortable and it makes him curious.
"We are nearing the end of this journey. There are business I must settle in Acre, and I am certain you have things to take care of. But afterwards, you will be traveling all around the world and discovering secrets about the Piece of Eden?"
"It seems so."
"Then I would like to join you," Maria finishes with a tone of finality.
His amber gaze focuses on her. He does not merely take her offer at face value.
True, they have saved each other's necks multiple times during their adventures in Cyprus. She is mature, intelligent, and has a connection with the Templars which prove to be useful in the future. Furthermore, he would be lying if he says he is not in the least bit attracted to her.
But there is someone waiting for him. Someone who wishes for his return, and who will mourn if he never comes back.
He is responsible for her after all.
"I will take your offer into account, Maria," Altair manages after a brief silence, "I shall be in touch."
She nods slowly. For some reason, he cannot stand to see the dejection in her eyes.
Altair rises to his feet. With his right hand, he lightly strokes her cheek, and says ruefully, "Maria, there are many open doors for you now. You are no longer bound by duty, and can walk as far as you want. There are much better options than to follow me on my senseless wanderings."
Maria does not reply, but merely leans into his touch. He feels his stomach tightening.
"There is no point in walking such a long way alone."
Her fingers are suddenly undressing him, and he does not stop her. His hood, his robe, and his weapons all drop to floor. He does not stop her when she strips off her own clothing, and he does not resist when she melds her body into his.
Altair closes his eyes.
He can always pretend.
Notes: Wah! It's been so long since I updated! Sorries...
1) I did watch Bloodlines on Youtube, (and used a good chunk of copied dialogue) b/c I figured I won't be getting a PSP and there's no point in playing the game. And my oh my... The things I found out. I mean, Maria and Altair? Did anyone see that coming? Gad, now I have to work that in the fic. Which isn't that hard considering I was planning to have love rivals.
The ending was, of course, ambiguous and crap. So is my ending to the chapter now that I realize. People would have to play/watch Bloodlines too in order to get the full effect of their developing relationship, b/c it seems like all of a sudden they went from captive and captor to ... *cough cough*. But I have to admit, their taunting of each other is quite entertaining. And that kick in the face? PRICELESS.
My interpretation though: He is mildly attracted to her, at least her personality, but he saves her b/c he is tired of ppl dying. That and the first time they met, he was reminded of Jin when he found her impersonating Robert. Also he is responsible for Robert's death, and therefore a part of the reason why her life is miserable. A mixture of guilty conscience and duty with a dash of physical attraction leads to... one messed up deal.
2) I will not be playing AC 2 for awhile. At least after finals so during winter break. NO SPOILING PLZ.
3) Update on Jin: She's just trying to make herself useful. And no, she's still not good friends with Malik. Oh those two... :D
I wanted to introduce some OC's so it does not seem like he is the only one she talks to, but I find reading a fic with a lot of OC's is rather confusing.
4) Moral of the day: If you want to hold on to a guy, sleep with him so he doesn't go skirt chasing in foreign lands. (jking jking! lol) But really, this is why couples need to be "official".
5) And yes, I am a girl. I just talk like a guy. Jin regularly chops her hair. She's not picky/vain about it.