Haze

He kicked the guard in the back of his legs, crippling him to the ground. With one fluid movement he slit their throat and turned around to face the other guard charging him. As he was preparing to strike he staggered backwards and the guard shoved him into a wall on top of the building. He tried to block the guard's sword, but didn't recover in time as the blade pierced his shoulder. However, he was now with in striking range, and Altaïr struck him in the side of the neck with his hidden blade. He fell to the ground.

Sighing heavily, he slouched down onto the ground exhausted. It was too damn hot and now he was bleeding to top it all off. What a great way to spend the afternoon. He struggled back up to his feet, vision blurring. Getting to the bureau would be best. Malik would patch him up, he could rest, and then leave the next day; or during the night if he felt like it. He looked off into the distance, it would only take a few minutes to get there, but it seemed so far away.

The few minutes he knew it would take turned into longer as he tripped and stumbled across the rooftops almost falling down to the streets below on occasion. He did, however, make it to the top of the bureau roof, at least he thought it was, but he wasn't completely sure anymore. His ears were ringing and vision fading fast. The last thing he remembered was calling out for Malik.

Everything was black. But he could hear something. Something far away, like in a dream. It was a hushed muttering, not harsh or gentle, but worried. He whispered a name, though it sounded foreign to him as it left his lips. There was more mumbling, something that sounded along the lines of "I'm here" and something cool across his head. He opened his eyes slowly, becoming more conscious.

As he looked up he saw a familiar face, it was Malik. His face was stern as it always was, but something seemed... off.

"You are such a novice..." he muttered softly.

"Malik... What happened?" he croaked.

"You have heatstroke." There was a sound of water and then a cool cloth sweeping across his forehead. Then the process repeated as the cloth was eventually patted across his body, only then to come back up to his head. Malik was being unusually gentle, he was only like this when things were serious.

"Oh," he whispered, coming to the realization that this was serious.

"Is something the matter Altaïr?"

"Hmm... no." He closed his eyes, the exhaustion completely setting in. The heat from his skin made it too uncomfortable to fall asleep so soon, but he lay there, head on a pillow, Malik beside him. Moments passed in near silence, nothing to be heard except for the water beside them and the fountain inside the bureau. After some time, Altaïr drifted to sleep.

"You could have died... you idiot." He would always push himself too hard and end up hurt. He had been that way since he could remember, always wanting to be the best, to prove himself. Malik was always there to help him, ever since they were children he had been patching him up. If he'd only stop being so reckless. He had already lost one brother, he couldn't lose another.

He watched as the bare sleeping Syrian slept peacefully below him. Reaching a hand down, he stroked his cheek. What a fool. He smiled softly and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Altaïr would never know just how much he meant to him. Even Malik wasn't sure just how much at times like this. The times where he might never come back, when a day could start out normal and then end in death. Though he supposed that death was a normal part of the Order, but not one that he was ever used to.

As the night wore on, he continued to tend to Altaïr. When the morning dawn began to break is when he nodded off to sleep. It was midday when Altaïr awoke. He sat up slowly, still feeling a bit light-headed from the day before. His clothes were in a pile near the door, Malik had clearly spared no time getting them off of him. He put everything back on, minus his weapons, and laid back down to rest, his hood shielding his eyes.

"Altaïr, you should come inside."

He opened his eyes and gazed up at Malik hovering over him. He groaned, but did as he was told, moving into the bureau and sitting on the cool tiled floor. Malik took his place behind the counter and took out a few scrolls and a pot of ink. Just as normal he resumed his work. Altaïr watched him for a few minutes bent over the scroll drawing lines and mapping out the city. "Malik?"

"Yes, Altaïr?"

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked fidgeting slightly.

"Sit still, be quiet, rest." He smirked, not bothering to look up from his map.

"You can't be serious. I can't just rest, Malik."

"Well, you're going to have to, you cannot go back out for a while in your condition."

"I do not have a condition," he replied hotly.

"Oh, yes, that's right, that's why I found you collapsed on the roof of my bureau."

"That was yesterday!" He stood up. There was no way in hell he was going to just sit around in the bureau for who knows how long.

"Altaïr, you will sit down, and you will be quiet."

The look he gave made Altaïr sit back down.

"You may leave by next week, perhaps sooner if you behave."

He leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. He thought about how Malik seemingly stayed up all night to watch over him and make sure he was safe, or at the very least didn't die. Maybe he cared more than he let on, but Altaïr was still sure he was hated. But it was those moments of uncertainty that made him question if that was true or not.

I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to get up. I've been busy with college and I had gotten stuck on this chapter for the longest time, but then I deleted it and rewrote the whole thing so now I'm happy with it -u-