The only thing Altair wanted to do right now was shove his hidden blade straight through the Masyaf surgeon's neck.
Granted, he understood in a distant sort of way that the man was only helping him. Years of experience and training, however, had him excuciatingly tense as the surgeon shifted his fingers around inside of his mouth, which was forcibly pried open by a device that looked like it was meant for torture rather than healing. The splitting agony in his jaw had intensified two-fold because of it, and the only reason he was not currently killing the surgeon was Malik's calming hand on his shoulder.
The surgeon finally hummed something that had a sense of finality to it and withdrew his fingers from Altair's mouth. He began to unwinch the device keeping his mouth open.
"You have an abscess in your tooth, Mentor Altair," the surgeon said simply as he pulled the device free. Altair gingerly slid his mouth shut, finally relaxing back against his pillow, "It's an infection of sorts, and there are two possible ways to treat it."
"What are his options?" Malik asked quietly when Altair did not say anything. The pain in his mouth had started almost a week before, and it had become difficult for Altair to eat or talk. Malik was quickly becoming his voice to the world, and probably saying all the sensible sorts of things that he could never manage.
"Well, he can have the surgery right now and I can yank the tooth and it will be done and over," the surgeon said, looking up when Malik grunted a negative. Even if it was only a tooth, the news of the Mentor being weak from surgery would spread to all the wrong ears. "Or I can drain the abscess. The process will take a period of time, and the chance of the infection spreading is a significant one. It could send him into a fever, or spread so far as his brain."
Silence answered him, then Altair slowly shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, being careful of the epicenter of the pain in his mouth.
"Jus' pull it," he managed, and Malik slanted him a sharp look. The surgeon shrugged.
"Get comfortable; I'll bring the opiate," he said simply, moving away from the bed and slipping out of view into the back of the hospital wing. Malik turned to look at Altair.
"You're an idiot," he growled, and Altair only gave him a thin half-smile, "...Even if it is but your tooth, you will be vulnerable to an attack until you can go about without an opium-rag pressed to your face."
"Been vuln'rable for the pas' week," Altair said around his hand, "...So much pain; can barely concen'rate."
"Your eloquence doesn't seem to have suffered a blow, at least," Malik joked, looking up as the surgeon reappeared with a bottle and a sponge, and several vicious looking tools tucked under his arm. The man went to the other side of the room to prepare the opium. Malik felt his insides squirm a little at the sight and he looked back at Altair. "I suppose I shall go and organize a guard detail to protect you while you're incapacitated."
He stood to go, but was stopped when Altair reached out and grabbed the hem of his robe. Altair's face was carefully schooled into a neutral expression, but Malik had learned how to read the man and could see the anxiety in his yellow-gold eyes.
"I've ne'er had a surg'ry," Altair admitted slowly, clearly trying to admit his fear without actually losing face, "...Will you stay?"
Malik stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back into his seat by the bed. He put his hand back on Altair's shoulder and squeezed tightly.
"It only lasts a moment," he promised as the surgeon approached, "I will stay to guard you."
Altair nodded his thanks, turning his gaze up to the surgeon. The man placed the sponge soaked with opiate over his nose, and Malik watched as, after a few minutes, Altair's intense gaze faded, and his focus fell on the ceiling. His eyes fell half-lidded, and the surgeon set to work a few moments later. Malik ran his thumb over the fabric of Altair's tunic, feeling warm skin beneath. That Altair would ask, would bare his fear and humble himself to ask Malik to stay...
Malik squeezed Altair's shoulder and leaned back in his chair. Altair asked, and so he would stay.
It was an hour later when the surgeon was finished, placing the bloody bits of the infected tooth on a cloth and covering them up. Malik watched as he shoved several bits of guazy bandages into Altair's mouth and pressed them into the now empty socket. He replaced the sponge with a rag, cleaned up his tools and took the infected tooth to the back, presumably to be burned as Malik's arm had been.
Several long minutes passed, and Altair's eyes regained a little bit of focus. A second later and they closed tightly, then Altair let out a long, low groan. Malik chuckled, reaching up and ruffled Altair's hair.
"I'll get on that guard detail," he murmured, "Just remember, you wanted this quick and easy."
Altair growled, then moaned again. Malik changed his tone to a more gentle one, smoothing Altair's dark brown hair back down.
"I will be right back," he promised, "The surgeon will stay with you until I return."
Malik stood to leave, then looked over when Altair reached out and grabbed his hand. Afraid the man would ask him to stay again, he turned a patient look on the bedridden Mentor.
"Altair, I will be back in a just a minute-"
"Fank-" Altair looked nauseated for just a second from trying to talk around the gauze in his mouth, then continued with some difficulty. "...Fank you. For stayinggth."
Malik stared at Altair for a long moment, then gave Altair an easy half-smile.
"You need only ask, Brother," he said softly, untangling his hand from Altair's to touch the man on the forehead. "Rest for a minute. I'll be right back to stay with you."
Malik stepped out of the hospital wing then to make good on this, trying to keep a handle on the warm feeling that had stolen over him. The Mentor was bedridden and vulnerable, and he needed to get to work making sure he was safe. Malik swept down hallways, rubbing his fingers together, still able to feel Altair's warm touch there.
Malik was still smiling when he got to the barracks to pick out the guards.
...later...
"Auuugh-"
Malik eyed Altair from across the low table he had set up for him. Stacks of paperwork were scattered all over Altair's lap and the mosaic of rugs that they were sitting on. Altair had the rag soaked in opiates pressed to his mouth and nose, but Malik knew for a fact that the surgeon had lowered the dosage for the second time in the past week. The Mentor's moans and groans for Malik to take pity on him and ease up on the paperwork were for all for show.
"You wanted the fast and easy way, you got it;" Malik said a tad savagely, "And it is not hurting you that badly that you cannot sign your name on the bottom of these contracts."
"Oh... maybe I should have just done this the slow way," Altair grumbled sticking his finger in his mouth for what seemed like the hundredth time that day to feel the empty socket. Malik recoiled in disgust at the sight, but was glad when Altair's finger came out clean of blood. He had bled so much for the first two days that even the surgeon was worried. "I might have caught fever, and not have to do any of this paperwork."
"Yes, and perhaps the infection would have spread to your brain as well," Malik growled, signing Altair's name in his friend's handwriting, matching each clumsy swirl perfectly, "Not that it would make much difference."
Altair growled at him over a stack of files and Malik abruptly wished for the opium-laced Altair of a few days ago, proclaiming his love for all things that sparkled, babbling about 'that pretty white horse that's mine' and some poor foreign fellow named 'Desmond', and admitting an absolute loathing of water, something that Malik hadn't known about before but was willing to test later.
Or maybe now, when Altair still had enough opium in his system that Malik could drown him without much struggle. He irritably pointed his quill at Altair when the man attempted to subtly stuff some of the paperwork under the rug.
"To work, Altair."
"Auuuugh..."
Two connected excerpts that were going to be a one-shot but never got finished. Plus I have no idea how opium works because I don't do drugs but I do know they used it, and medieval Arabic medicine was actually quite a bit more advanced than medieval Europe. In the case of an abscess, Europeans would just cut the limb/tooth out, but Arab doctors knew how to drain the infection.
annnnnnnnnnd rest.
