I really don't like genres, I never know if I'm picking the right ones...ah well. AltMal, don't like don't read. Anything italicized is supposed to be body langauge, it seemed like something fum to try out. Hopefully it worked.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Assassins Creed...(yeah, no shit sherlock)

Dark embers stared through the confines of a tired face that was worn and tanned; a face that was kept frozen and emotionless during the day but broke down the walls at night. Heavy lids hid those embers, those smoldering eyes, for the briefest of seconds and revealed them with a new flame.

A white ghost hovered at the door, almost like a soul wavering before the pits of Hell. For inside that room, the ghost knew was a man, more akin to a beast with the strength of his hatred. Indeed, the wraith was somewhat deterred by the waves of fury radiating from the room, the heart of which was an invalid perched on a simple chair, leaned over tomes and indigo ink. The emotionless mask was lifted, again, and only the deep scowl scrawled across the rafiq's face gave a hint to his thoughts.

He slowly set his quill against the hard wood of the desk, What do you want?

The assassin at the door gave no indication that he wanted to step farther into the room and stood at the entrance silently, I do not know…

The rafiq sighed heavily and shifted his position some, if only to glare at the assassin more effectively, You must have a reason to disturb me so late. Be out with it or leave.

The assassins head bowed lower, shadows engulfing the man underneath the hood, Why do you treat a brother with such hate?

The rafiq's fingers twitched to the hidden blade at his side and his glare intensified tenfold, You would know the answer to that? At least you should.

The killer's head snapped to attention and a glint of cold silver shone through the shadows of his face, I did nothing…

The single fist of the man at the desk pounded its surface, Exactly! You left us there! With those dogs! Kadar is dead because of you!

The pale wraith dared to take one angry step into the room, but only one, He threw me from the room! I was unable to do anything except return to Masyaf!

The man at the desk looked old beyond his years as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, You could have tried…

The assassin crossed his arms and his gaze drifted away from the rafiq, …I should have.

The rafiq's head tilted to the side and an almost contemplative look filled his dark eyes, What…?

A sad frown slowly tugged on the lips of the assassin, I should have tried to come back…to you.

The rafiq's hand dropped onto the desk, though not in anger, and his eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, …What?

A long silence played on the nerves of both men and as the assassin turned sharply to leave, the rafiq called out one word,


And with that one word the former assassin had slowed the pale ghost's steps to a standstill, …Yes?

The man at the desk stood and slowly walked from behind the counter, don't…go…

The killer peered over his shoulder at the other man, …Why?

Still moving agonizingly slowly, as if afraid to spook the assassin into flight, the rafiq clenched one fist and glanced down before, with a certain determination, looking the assassin in the eyes, Just don't…alright?

The assassin turned back to the door and tried to leave, but again he was stopped, though this time by an arresting hand, he looked back over his shoulder and the one-armed man was close, so very close, Why? He twisted slightly in his grasp, There is nothing stopping me.

The rafiq's eyes narrowed and he showed great restraint and released his hold on his arm, …Don't…

The wraith faced the beaten man and their foreheads were almost touching, …Give me a reason.

The rafiq looked up then, black holes replaced his eyes and the assassin was drawn in, the irresistible pull of those fierce eyes. For once the rafiq's eyes were filled with something other than hate and distrust as he looked at the other man. They were filled with a longing so deep it stole the breath of the assassin, who thought his heart had stopped beating for others a long time ago. Too long he realized now, too long to harbor such arrogance in his heart.

And now, as the rafiq slowly let down his defenses, the assassin saw the true destruction his pride and ego had dealt. The man before him now was no longer a bitter amputee, stuck behind a desk with dusty old books his only company, but a man who had lost a brother, his arm, and, in truth, his lover to fate. And that broke his solid resolve.


The single word was a quiet sob, the assassin leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. A suspended pause was held until the rafiq relelented his hatred, fully, and wrapped his arm around the assassin's waist. The assassin's head rolled onto his shoulder and his hot breath drifted across the exposed skin there.

The single arm of the rafiq reached up and pulled the hood from the assassin's head, the assassin appeared to have gone into a light daze, lost in his own thoughts. Who knows where they were taking him.

"Don't think Altair." Malik whispered, gently lifting the others head; he was surprised to find a single tear resting there. Perched on Altair's cheek as the assassin tried in vain to school his features.

Without thinking he reached up and kissed the offending tear away as he used to when they were younger. This seemed to surprise them both, as they broke apart slightly. Malik's hand still rested on Altair's cheek.

"Why?" Altair would never admit to the small quiver in his voice.

Malik's head tilted again but this time in childlike curiosity.

"How can you forgive me so…easily after what I've done?"

Malik seemed to contemplate this, not showing any recognition, Malik uttered a small bark of laughter, looking at Altair in a sad way though love still lingered in his deep eyes.

"It was not easy Altair, several times I had wanted to kill you myself-" The nonchalant way in which he said those words was shocking to say the least. Altair stiffened slightly and that only made the rafiq smile ruefully and continue with a hint of amusement. "-But I couldn't, I wouldn't."

Altair thought he knew, really, he did. But he needed to hear it from the only person in the world whose opinion really mattered. To him that is.


Malik's eyes sparked, eyes filled with newfound life, and pulled Altair in, the rafiq rested his lips against the tender flesh of the assassin's neck and breathed the words against him, the small smile on his lips a stark contrast to his usual stormy demeanor.

I love you.

I don't know about this one, I'm not very experienced in the romance department so I'm not sure if I wrote it right...meh.