A/N For some reason the posting for chapter 40 failed, I tried removing and posting but it doesn't seem to have worked. I was freaking out trying to fix this so as a last resort I have split the story in two. What would have been chapter 40 of Crescent and cross is now chapter 1 of part 2 LOL Yep I am that sad.

Altaïr had every intention of going directly to the bureau but the sight which greeted him when he arrived within the city walls forced him in another direction – to the heart of the cluster of sick people. He listened to the talk and theories but quickly came to the conclusion the heavy rains had flooded this districts drinking water with the deadly minerals which were in the soil of the hills behind the water source. It had happened about a decade before the Europeans had begun arriving for their newest crusade and he also knew of a cure or at least a treatment. Further investigation told him the sick and healthy alike was still using the same wells containing the polluted water and he knew even the ones lucky enough to still be alive would not be for long if they continued poisoning themselves.

He moved among the tents erected outside the hospital and ghosted past the people lying around praying for mercy from a God he no longer believed existed. A young girl moved from her spot at her mother's side and smiled at the assassin, the first person here who had looked directly at him. He saw the blue of her eyes – so common amongst her people - shining in the torchlight still full of vitality and he smiled.

"Is God angry with us for making peace with the heathens?"

"I see only polluted water making people sick and I believe it will pass. Help will arrive soon little one but give her no more water from these wells."

She stood to her full height almost to his chest, "Where should we draw our water?"

"I will send men to show you were to go for clean water."

"You're one of the heathens aren't you I can tell from your voice." He nodded slowly but he saw no hate in her still shining eyes, "Why would you help us when many believe it was your kind who did this to us?"

"This is neither the work of man nor god child." He considered telling her he was helping them because he believed they were the same but doubted she would understand. "I will help you because it is the right thing to do." He left her there with her mother and began making his way at last to the bureau. On his way there he passed the street where Ceana had lived with her family and seeing an oil lamp burning in the window he decided to knock, not only to check on her son but something else had come to mind...

Uilleam recognised the robes of the man at the door if not the face – he had been blind drunk when Maria had practically forced Altaïr to carry him into the bureau and it had been Malik he had spoken with the next day. "Can I help you...?"

Altaïr smiled, "I believe we can help each other."

He was shown into the small house which still looked exactly the same as it had on the day his mother had allowed him to carry Maria into her home and in so doing brought the wrath of Gerhard down upon her head. The curtain between the living and sleeping areas was drawn back and he saw the long hair of a woman protruding from the blankets piled on top of her. "Is she sick?"

Uilleam glanced into the room behind him. "She is yes and since I promised Tahir I would keep an eye on her I brung her here but I'm at a loss what to do with her now."

"I know people who can help her, who can help most of them but I will have to send for instructions. In the meantime the people need to be told to stop drinking the water from the wells beneath the hills, which is where you come in. They will be far more open to advice from one of their own since I am told they think Arabs might be to blame for their circumstances."

Uilleam scratched his chin with a chunky finger "I can muster up a few friends to help pass the word quickly but what of Gwen I can't leave her here alone. I left her for minutes this morning and she made her way back to her old house, I found her raving about Tahir coming for her."

"We can take her somewhere she will be cared for she will be safe."

The girl groaned and both men made their way to her bedside. Her cheeks were bright red but the rest of her body was grey and cold.

"I have to go home I want to go home." So weakened by dehydration and hunger that she could barely open her eyes but her voice still managed to convey her desperation and the Master of the young man that heart craved felt the need to soothe her troubled mind.

Altaïr took her hand – something Uilleam knew most would not have done for fear of being smitten – "Tahir is coming for you Gwen and we are going to take you to be with his brothers to wait for him."

Her cracked lips formed a sorry looking smile "I knew he would come."

She needed help and soon her body would not stand much more of this and lifting her from the straw mattress he had once rested on with Maria he turned to the youth. "Can you leave with me now?"

"Ready when you are."

They took Gwen to the bureau and both men left again within minutes, the assassin to the citadel and the Englishman to find his friends and begin spreading the message about the water.

Jabal looked suspiciously at the young woman lying on the cot doubting that this was the best place for her. Yes the Mentor had sent a bird to Damasq to procure the list of ingredients from the physicians there to help these people but meanwhile... "What am I to do with you?"

He moved closer to her bedside and noticed the small hand poking out from beneath the covers, he smiled. His daughter used to sleep with her whole body beneath the blankets but she had been born with a powerful fear of the dark. He took her cold hand in his and slipped it back into the warm blankets, "The least we can do is keep you warm."

He sat beside her and lifted a chalice full of clean water and held it to her parched lips. As far as he could tell she was somehow promised to Tahir exactly how that had come about had not been explained to him but he knew her to be a beggar he had seen her in the streets, standing quietly hoping someone would see her need and hand her coins. He had been tempted to do that very thing but something had stopped him, the idea that she should find herself a husband to take care of her and stop pestering others. Jabal thought matters over as he always did with a cold detachment which would allow him to come to a reasonable conclusion unfettered by cluttered sentiment.

He and his wife had produced one child which had lived and she had grown into a real beauty. He had little to do with her upbringing but he would spend more time with his women than he would ever admit to his brothers, he was fond of their happy chatter. The time came for his daughter to take a husband - a boy she had long been promised to – it was a good match and she fell pregnant almost immediately. Jabal had been at the fortress when news reached him that his daughter had died and a few short days later the boy she had given up her life to have joined her in paradise. Within a year his wife's heart stopped beating; grief took her and left him alone. Al Mualim must have saw his daily struggle with the constant reminders of what he had lost, of what he had never truly appreciated, and sent him here to Acre to run the bureau. The world was changing or more to the point his world was changing. The young Master had his own ideas for their future and Jabal with his whole heart supported most of the things he had shared with him.

The girl on the bed coughed as the water trickled down her throat and he lifted her head to ease its passage down her throat. She was probably at least three years older than Zara had been when she died but still so young... The crusty old man who nurtured an outward appearance, a facade if you will, which was a good deal more bitter than he really was smiled when he saw her throat contract and accept the fluid. "It could be this is exactly the right place for you young one, who can say?"

The assassin traversed the rooftops with a step which was silent and sure, even in the darkness he seemed to know where to place his feet and when to leap. The number of soldiers was a good deal lower than he had seen in the past but he knew the closer he got to the fortress those numbers would increase. He saw the shadow of the highest tower, the one Maria had wanted to be on the night he had found her wandering and something in his chest fluttered. With well practised ease he forced her name and her face to the back of his mind.

He had left her on the road to come here alone and face these men to keep her safe, the price for that would likely be her trust perhaps even her love but if he could keep his mind focused and succeed at his task then he would not bicker over the price.

The fortress was now directly in front of him and he crouched down low moving along the edges of the roof to take in his surroundings. He saw a man exit the fortress and move down towards the streets, a path he had once watched a king take. It was him, Maria's friend Stephen. Altair moved back along the roof behind him and stayed that way until the fortress and the soldiers were behind them before he straightened his back and leapt to the ground landing on his feet almost without a sound, almost...

The knight stopped and the loose dirt underfoot crunched beneath his feet as his body spun around to face the encroacher. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword but hovered there when he saw who he faced. "Ah Altaïr leader of the Ismaili fidais, we have met before albeit briefly."

His own hands were relaxed at his side but the knight had witnessed this killer's uncanny speed and knew this stance meant little. His words however could be important. "Since you have not drawn a weapon can I assume you wish to speak with me?"

A slight dip of the head, "A mutual friend believes you are as offended by the Templar plans as we are and your actions at Homs seem to back this up."

"You are confused assassin I am a Templar the people you refer to as Templars are a mongrel mix of Saracen, Hebrew and Crusader. They have no banner to rally under."

"They refer to themselves as Templars as you do."

Stephen smirked "I once killed a man his name was Ja'far – a horse trader from Damascus. Our so called mutual friend offended him and he sought revenge. Robert De Sable warned us he was an ally and that he should be treated accordingly but he spoke out of turn and tried to shame my friend and I killed him for that. I judge an ally by their actions not recommendations or titles and I will defend my order from any perceived threats from without and within."

"Then we have an enemy in common."

"Is it then true the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Altaïr shrugged, he was finding it exceptionally difficult to trust this man. He spoke in circles, something he had been accused of many times. "It can be true but even a mutual enemy does not assure alliance even in times of apparent peace."

"Then I suggest you go back to your hill and your band of brothers and leave my order to me. Your help is neither required nor requested assassin. The last time I met with one of your kind he left me a reminder of your idea of peace." His fingers brushed the scarred flesh of his neck.

"I am unwilling to do that, your father threatens the freedom of all people, my own and yours and I will ensure that threat is ended."

The knight stepped closer to the assassin, not with the intention of intimidation but of secrecy, "And I am to trust that the piece of Eden is safe in the hands of your group? I should accept Maria's belief that you are indeed a good man and leave it at that? I think not..."

"I have no intention of using the piece of Eden in the way you suggest, it will be destroyed before I would allow it to be used in that manner. I too have a creed I live by and would no more break the tenants of that creed than you would yours." He decided to be honest if for no other reason than he felt this man was being so with him. "I once broke all our tenants in one day I arrogantly believed I was above such rules as my brothers subjected themselves to but the cost was high to me and others. I learned my lesson well."

"Then we are both men bound by our creed and our oath to do the right thing but..."

"But...?"

"I can't trust you assassin. I believe there can be peace between Saracen and Crusader, men of good conscience can always find a path to peace if they truly seek to find it. Peace with the fanatical assassins... I fail to see how we could ever trust men who have no beliefs beyond that which their leader tells them. You are an enemy of Saracen and Crusader both, your order was set up to protect Muslims but you kill as many of those as you do the invaders."

The memory of himself and his brothers leaping into apparent oblivion on Al Mualim's command "Go to God!" was called to mind. It was undeniable the Crusader had an image of him and his men of suicidal killers who would stop at nothing to wipe out their target but "The men of my order are now free of such control, we follow our creed not a man. True we would kill one man to save the lives of Muslims but there is a new threat one which has forced a rethink. We would now kill one man to save the lives of mankind and would welcome any to our order who would follow those same principals."

"Be that as it may your current target is a person of great interest to me. We take care of our own mess." He moved away from the man he had once believed he would kill on sight "Is Maria in Acre?"

"She will be here soon; I left her on the road hoping I could come here and end this without her having to be involved."

Stephen chuckled, "I sent her from Homs with very much the same idea in mind. I doubt she will thank either of us for our considerations." The assassin smiled more like a twitch of his lip but both men knew they had found more common ground. "And now if our business is done I must take my leave of you to repair another mistake of my brothers. The people of the city face disaster and our response was to burn their shelters in an effort to cleanse the area."

Altaïr was fully aware of the Christian obsession with cleansing fire, "It is the water Stephen the recent rains infected the drinking water with impurities from the soil. I have sent men among the people to tell them to use the wells at the other end of the city and have also sent to Damasq for a cure which is known to the physicians who lived in Acre until your occupation."

The knight bowed courteously and began to walk away but he paused momentarily with his back to the assassin. "There is no man more foolish than one who will not see the truth Altaïr and I hope I am not such a fool. I believe we have been honest with each other, a rare thing in these difficult days. Deception is rife and men will lie, cheat or steal to gain the upper hand, you met such a pair in your home recently I am told. They came to you as friends but I would have you know they are wolves wrapped in the softest wool. I give you this to show faith and to prove we would both see an end to the imposters who use the name Templars as though they have earned it but as to the other man you seek... he is my father and I will do all I can to help him, if that fails I will stop him, one way or another I will stop him. You can rest for tonight; he is outside Acre coincidentally searching for where you hide."

Altaïr watched him leave now sure of things he had once doubted. Stephen was not part of the conspiracy, Maria's faith in him had been well placed but the assassin was equally sure that the man would fail – he would not kill his father because he would not be able to see him as anything other than his father, he like Maria was blinded by duty and emotion. As to Gilbert and Thomas, the bumbling men who walked into Masyaf as though it were any other town... the assassin had known them to be false - he and Malik had saw through them very early on but to have it confirmed was... reassuring, he had not been so distracted after all.

Covered from head to toe in dust and looking more like beggars than soldiers Maria and Tahir took in the scene which had greeted Altaïr the previous night. Thankfully not quite the same scene, physicians now moved among the sick offering clean water and food to any who could stomach it.

The novice's eyes scanned the people looking for one face in particular. "Gwen..."

She saw the agony on his face and caught his arm as he made to run into the crowd. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him everything would be fine but they had seen enough lately to prove that fate was equally cruel to both the just and the unjust. Words of hope would be futile but still if they had no hope then they had nothing. "Find her and when you do remember to smile."

She left him moving frantically among the tents searching for the girl he had come here to marry. She too was here to find someone, two of them in fact but which one to find first? She considered her options carefully; the bloody assassin had left her lying in the dirt. In spite of his words to the contrary he saw her as good for nothing beyond sex. But she knew he would be chasing the other man she wanted to see and she wanted to get to him first to show that idiotic assassin that he was wrong about her. "William Marshal it is and the assassin be damned!"

The fortress was coming to life she passed men carrying baskets full of everything from kindling to eggs. The guards made no attempt to halt her progress as she passed beneath the gates and entered the central courtyard. She wondered if word of her actions in Homs had not made it to this part of the world yet but knew it would be unlikely. 'I can see why the bloody assassin could move so freely among our men these lazy sods are a sorry excuse for guards.'

Then the world turned black.

A corridor...

A torch on the wall

Her head bouncing against stone

The backs of men, they had her by the ankles and were dragging her behind them.

Her head clattering against stairs before blackness once more claimed the world around her.

Her eyes fluttered but still darkness surrounded her. It was long moments before the fog cleared sufficiently from her brain in order for her to understand that her eyes were indeed open, the blackness was now real. She had seen darkness like this once before. Still groggy she placed a hand on the ground and struggled to gain her feet. Her aching head howled its disapproval of this choice but she had to stand, had to get her bearings.

"Where am I?"

Somewhere in the overwhelming silence she heard something, a dragging sound followed by shuffling. 'Don't let this happen again. You be strong Maria Thorpe.'

Another sound was it behind her? She spun around her heart hammering in her chest despite her insistence that she remain calm. Her breathing became harsh and uneven. It was too dark and once more silent.

A gritty sounding chuckle came from behind her and she spun to face it but her hands found nothing.

"You've been here before and this time you will not let fear take hold of you. Walk to the wall and find the corner now damn you!"

Her foot slid along the floor as her arm reached to her left, determined that nothing as petty as darkness would bring the tears she felt stinging her eyes.

Breathing behind her but this time she knew it was her own frightened lungs producing the sounds. She moved again more sure of herself. Then she stopped her body froze. Breathe tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. 'God give me strength not to succumb to this again.' She told herself that a draught had found its way into the room but could air penetrate that which light could not?

"There is nothing to fear except that which you dare to imagine Maria, just remain calm."

She felt something touch her hair at the exact moment she heard the cold laughter. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

"I agree with you m'dear but unluckily for you I'm no phantom."

The fingers she had imagined stroking her hair now gripped tight and found a way beneath her tight plait, they dragged her backwards and slammed her to the floor. She felt a body drop on top of her crushing her chest and knocking the wind from her. An open hand caught her on the side of the head before her assailant managed to correctly place her position and his hands found her shoulders before sliding down her arms and pinning her fists to the ground.

The cell was in the deepest part of the fortress, she had indeed been here before. Had suffered many a dark dream because of the days she had spent locked away in this place of torture. The walls in some parts of this room were over three feet thick, no sound from the outside world penetrated the cold stone and no scream, no matter how loud or desperate ever escaped in the other direction. Maria's scream was as desperate and afraid as any ever uttered within this room but the walls treated them with the same indifference they had always shown. No one who cared heard her and no one who would trouble themselves to help her knew she was there. William Marshal knew she was there, he had ordered her to be put there with the soldier who had lost his mind and killed four women. He wasn't happy about it, this was beneath him and he knew it but Maria Thorpe held too much sway with his son and to save him he would let her die.

Tahir dropped onto the soot covered floor of her house and let his head fall into his hands. She was nowhere to be found, the only other place he could think of to look was the bodies piled up outside the city walls but his heart could not bear the idea of that. After all he had seen and done over the past month this was to have been his reward, her love would remind him why he fought.

He looked behind him and knew he should go to the bureau, the master would help him make sense of this would show him a path out of the darkness he felt engulfing him but did he really want that? He had lost everything he had ever loved, from his family at the hands of the bandits to Kadar at the hands of the Templars and now Gwen. He had spent only hours with her but he loved her as he knew he would never love again. He knew of Altaïr's loss, a woman called Adha and he knew what that loss had done to the man. Did he really want to be like him? Be a man who used a woman for comfort then leave her in the middle of nowhere when duty called. Tahir had believed the master loved Maria but his actions had proved otherwise and he had witnessed firsthand the injury those actions had caused the woman.

The dagger hidden in his waist armour pressed against his side and his hand moved to scratch the itch it caused. He drew the dagger and held it in front of him watching the sun glint against the clean steel of the blade. It looked out of place here among the ruin of her home, it was the only clean thing he could see. He remembered Saba and the choice she had made not to suffer but had she been right? Was it better to end life on your own terms than to let the world suck all the good out of you and leave you broken?