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The bureau was very quiet, save for the ruffling of a quill on parchment. A new map was needed for Jerusalem since Altair had ruined Malik's old one with his…well, he had just ruined it. Malik was busy, quill scratching away, analyzing between the ruined map and the new one, trying to remember most of Jerusalem from memory. His head swiveled back and forth, going between maps and looking up every now and then to prevent from lines blurring and an oncoming headache.

Malik sighed for about the tenth time as he ran out of ink yet again. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It seemed he would need to go back to the market yet again to buy more ink. Altair really was going to owe him a lot of coin for all the money he was spending on ink.

Using the bureau's secret entrance and exit, seeing as he couldn't pull himself up through the roof's entrance, Malik walked through the streets, keeping an eye on guards and anyone else who might cause a threat. Children wandered the streets laughing and playing while their mothers begged for money from random strangers. Malik did his best to avoid the women, but to no avail. Three beggar women had asked him for coin, and when he refused them of it they spat at his feet cursing him. He only pushed them out of his way, hoping that Altair wasn't secretly watching him and being angered at the women.

It seemed lately that Altair had some sort of protective instinct as to watch Malik's every movement and to make sure that he was always safe. It made Malik a little pissy when he did that, after all, he could look after himself. He didn't need watching over. Just because he had one arm and wasn't an assassin anymore didn't mean that he wasn't strong enough to care for himself. Just because he had lost so much did not mean he wasn't strong anymore. It didn't mean-

"There he is!" Malik turned around and looked up to see a white cloak soaring across rooftops.

"Altair..." Malik whispered under his breath. He was the only assassin in Jerusalem this day, the only one carrying out a mission today. A force then knocked Malik off from his feet and onto solid ground on his back. A white hot pain seared through his back as he felt gravel tear partially through the Rafiq's cloak and through the assassin robes he wore underneath. In a daze, Malik tried to stand, tried to regain his balance, tried to see. Tried was more like the keyword. He tried to get up but he lay there, on his back. The ground was cold, and it hurt. He could hear footsteps around him, the shouting of voices and for one brief moment…he was reminded of Solomon's Temple.

The shouting had stopped. Peace had been restored, except for the fact that Malik still lay on the ground. He then felt a hand grip his shoulder, then his arm, and his entire world was now swimming. He had been pulled to his feet by someone. As soon as Malik had found his footing and opened his eyes and gazed at the one who had helped him to his feet.

Malik huffed a sigh as a scowl came bearing down on his face. The hood, the white cloak, the scar and the shit eating grin was all Malik needed to figure out who had helped him up from his daze.

"Altair, why is it you are here and not killing your target?" Malik walked forward ignoring the stinging in his back. Altair had kept up the pace and walked next to Malik.

"It is already done. We should probably head back to the bureau in case the alarm sounds." As if on cue the bells resounded loudly throughout Jerusalem and guards were put on high alert as soon as they learned about the death of their new young leader.

"We must move, quickly," Altair placed a hand on the back of the young Rafiq and pushed him ever so slightly ahead. Annoyed, Malik turned and batted the hand away.

"I will move as fast as I wish." Malik turned again and walked at his set pace, putting one foot in front of the other. He walked, head held parallel to the ground, one arm swinging about. He could hear a small chuckle from Altair and looked back to see a very rare smile. Malik enjoyed when Altair smiled. It meant that he wasn't so emotionless, meant that Altair genuinely was human and not some sort of killing machine for Al Mualim. It reminded him of the days before with Kadar and the two of them. And it pleased Malik, very much so. So Malik smiled back.

"You! Get him!" Altair turned as quick as a viper's strike. Guards had poured into the streets and were now facing Altair and Malik head on. Altair turned back, golden eyes sharp and deadly like a hawks. He only spoke one word to Malik.

"Run…" That one word…

It pissed Malik off.

By the time the guards had surrounded both Malik and Altair, both assassin's had their blades drawn and were poised to strike. Guards had their blades drawn and the bells were still ringing in the distance.

"I thought I told you to run," Altair had backed up, back to back with Malik, both of them eyeing each guard, calculating every maneuver that was going to be executed. One guard charged Altair, and with a simple flick of his sword, Altair had disarmed the man and had lodged his blade into his stomach and pulled it back out, kicking the guard to the ground. Another guard decided to charge Malik, sword aimed straight for his gut. Malik watched as the sword lunged forward. He decided for a quick evade by sidestepping to the left, and slitting the guards throat with the simple flick on his wrist. The guard toppled to the ground, his body hitting the ground hard with a thud.

"Don't think I can't take care of myself," Malik hissed as he and Altair once again became back to back, blades aimed at the other guards. Two guards decided to charge at Altair swords held a little high. Yet Altair was not only able to disarm both men and knock them to the ground, he had engaged the guards that stood before him. Malik on the other hand, had a bad advantage. Only having a dagger and some throwing knives proved to only be so useful. Malik was able to take down so many guards without them getting back up, but now before him stood four guards, armed and ready to kill. One guard engaged Malik in a little sword play and Malik had been all the more compliant. It was when Malik saw that one of the other three guards were missing that he knew he shouldn't have been so willing to 'play' with the guard. The sound of boots crushing gravel behind Malik alarmed him, and when he had plunged his dagger into the chest of the guard in front of him, he turned and tried to evade the pointed tip of the blade that was aiming for his chest.

Malik's evade was slow. The blade made contact with his left shoulder and had pierced the soft flesh like it was paper. He bit back a cry and grunted in pain. Pulling out a small throwing knife, Malik drove it into the supple flesh of the guard's throat. He felt the pressure of the guard's blade leave his shoulder, and felt the rush of warm blood slick his robe. Malik cursed at his slow reaction time. There were two more guards left, yet when Malik looked up to face them, they had gone off running after someone. Malik turned and saw Altair climbing the small buildings. His vision followed the white figure that had now disappeared atop the buildings. He slowly turned his head, following the line of houses and buildings. That was when he saw it. An archer with his bow already bent and arrow already in hand.

With speed he didn't even know he had, Malik turned swiftly and ran. An alley had been the perfect way of getting out of the archer's sights, and luckily enough, one had been present for him. He smiled at his good luck. And yet it seemed his good luck had worn out. The whistling of an arrow distracted him and what he felt next was most unwelcome.

Limping into the alley Malik examined the arrow that was now sticking out of his right calf. Of course, pulling it out now wasn't the greatest idea since he would probably bleed out. Even touching the damn thing made Malik wince. He breathed heavily. The wound in his shoulder had already stained over the higher part of his chest and the left part of his collar bone. Malik sat on the cold ground. He clenched his hand into a fist, slammed it against his thigh. Dammit, he wasn't weak! Biting his lip, Malik wrapped his hand around the longer end of the arrow, and with a twist of his arm, broke off part of the arrow. Malik barked in pain, people looking in his direction.

"I heard something! Around the corner, now!" Malik's breathing quickened and he jumped up from his spot ignoring the stinging pain in his leg. Trying his best to run down the alley, Malik heard the guards screaming and yelling. It was like dogs snapping at his heels.

"There! Shoot!" Malik thought he could hear the wooden arrow rub against the wood of the bow. He felt the wind of the arrow whizzing by his head.  He had to get back to the bureau, fast, so as to make sure the guards wouldn't know its location. The pain in his leg was screaming and his shoulder was bleeding more than it should. The bureau wasn't far, more or less just a couple more paces. The guard's cries had gotten fainter, and Malik had just found his secret entrance.

Stumbling inside the bureau Malik took a few awkward steps to the counter where he threw his weight atop it, trying to make the pain in his leg lessen, but the effort it was taking him to keep himself up on the counter was only making the wound in his left shoulder ache more, and Malik noticed the blood stain on his robes had gotten much larger and he could feel the warm liquid oozing from the wound. Malik let out a choked gasp and the Raifq slowly lowered himself the best he could to the ground, his still stinging and most likely stone lacerated back against the wooden counter. Malik screwed his eyes shut against the pain that was overwhelming him, causing his head to ace and his vision is become blurry.

"Too much…blood" Malik slurred, just the simple act of talking now becoming a chore. The world seemed to become much darker, and Malik was pretty sure the sun wasn't setting. His chest heaved and he let out a long sigh. His body ached, his back stung, his leg was burning with agonizing pain and Malik no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open. There was a loud thud, either that or Malik was hearing things. His vision blurred as a tall figure stood before him. Damn Altair…one of the guards had now found out where the bureau was…they were done for…

"Malik…" The voice was soft. 'That voice…'

"Malik!" Malik felt two hands gripping his shoulders, shaking him. He hissed in pain when his left shoulder had been gripped and tried with as much strength as he could muster to push the man before him away. "Malik, it's me, Altair. Come, we must get you healed." Without a second word Altair lifted Malik up in his arms and placed him as gently as he could onto the counter in the bureau on top of the maps Malik had been working on earlier.

"Al…Altair…" Malik's voice was hushed and quiet. He was on the verge of passing out. He felt Altair's hands pull off the Rafiq's robe and started to undo the robes underneath. Malik groaned when he felt the wet fabric peel off around the wound on his shoulder.

"Where are the salves and bandages?" Altair's voice was so close to Malik's ear. He could hear the panic layered thick in Altair's voice, something that Malik never thought possibly. "Malik, tell me where the bandages are." He felt Altair grab a hold of Malik's arm, gripping tightly.

"Under…the counter…" Malik barely managed to utter the words. He can hear Altair rummaging through maps and parchment. He feels the thud of a jar of salve hit the counter and hears the ruffling of bandages. Cold wet fingers dabbed around the entrance wound of the piercing making Malik's vision return, except instead of being tired and aching, his entire shoulder flared with pain. Too weak to care who heard him, Malik howled in pain. When he looked to Altair he saw those amber eyes fill with worry. For once, Altair was the one having to heal Malik and not the other way around. He felt Altair's fingers tremble, as if he was trying his best not to hurt the wounded man. Malik's breath was labored, his right arm gripping the edge of the counter until his knuckles were whiter than Altair's robes.

After wrapping the wound on Malik's shoulder, Altair searched for any other wounds. He spotted the arrow lodged in Malik's calf. He knew that this wasn't going to be any easy task. Moving closer towards Malik's leg, Altair decided to warn Malik before, though he was probably going to regret it.

"Malik, I have to remove the arrow in your calf." The most response Altair got was a swift kick to the chin. Altair's back slammed against the wall as he rubbed his now sore chin. He cursed under his breath and went back to Malik, grabbing the part of the arrow that was still sticking out. It was then Malik yelled out in pain, his entire body writhed and shook in agonizing pain. That was the second thing Altair regretted. Malik's cry had felt like someone had knocked all the air from Altair's lungs. It was a cry that he desperately never wanted to hear. It was like a harpies screech, it felt like needles in his heart. Altair quickly released the arrow and was by Malik's side in less than a second, cooing and apologizing for what he had done.

Malik felt a calloused hand cup his cheek, felt a thumb run back and forth as if trying to ease the pain. Altair was leaned over him, stroking his cheek, apologizing and saying anything that would make Malik feel better. The warmth of Altair's hand left Malik's cheek and he felt them slowly make their way towards Malik's leg. He felt his heart speed up and knew what pain was coming.

"Mali-,"

"Just do it fast." Malik growled, teeth biting into his lower lip. He felt Altair's hand grip the arrow tightly and in one swift movement the arrow was gone from his leg. Malik's body contorted in pain and his teeth tore through his bottom lip, the coppery tang of blood splashing against his tongue. And then, black. Nothing more.

"Malik!" Altair's voice rang out in the darkness and Malik felt himself awakening. He opened his eyes to see Altair above him again, eyes still filled with the same worry from earlier. He felt Altair's hand run through the black mess of hair while his other hand gripped Malik's right arm yet again, tightly as if he were clinging onto him, not wanting to lose Malik.

The next thing Malik knew was that he was in Altair's arms, and was being carried towards his own room.  He wanted to argue, but was too weak at this point. His sore back made contact with the softness of a mattress.

"Rest now my friend." Once more Altair's hand ran through Malik's messy hair, and then cupped his cheek. Soft lips then brushed against Malik's forehead, and he felt himself drift into a deep needed sleep.

                                                  ===========

Malik woke to the sounds of early dawn, women and men talking quietly, guards rushing about, beggar women pleading for food and coin. He groaned. His aching body was a reminder that he was probably going to stay down for a couple days. There was a rummaging sound coming from the front part of the bureau. Malik pulled himself up with what little strength he had, and pulled out one of the swords from underneath his bed and decided it was the best object to use as a cane.

Slowly limping towards the sound, Malik peered around the corner, watching white robes shuffle back and forth as if looking for something or even trying to organize something. Clearing his throat, Malik watched as the figure jumped as if startled and turned around.

"Malik, you're…up." Altair seemed surprised, as if he were expecting his friend to lie in bed for weeks.

"Why yes Altair, I am up. I cannot leave the responsibilities of my bureau to you. It seems you have yet again made a mess of things." Malik sighed eyeing the scattered pieces of paper on the ground and across the counter. "Come, help me pick these up." As Malik approached the counter, Altair did not move, only watching Malik's every step as if waiting for him to just start crying out in pain again.

"Altair, you do no good by just standing there." It was Altair's turn to clear his throat, bringing Malik's attention back to his. When Malik looked to Altair, he had gestured for them to talk in the other room. Taking the lead, Malik lead into the room where the roof entrance was located. Slowly but surely he took a seat with all the pillows and rested his back against a particularly soft one.

"I…I wish to speak with you…about yesterday…" Altair's voice is not its usual tone. There is no edge, no growl, but there is only softness and a slight tremble.

"There is nothing I see worth talking about. I am fine Altair. A little banged up, but fine none the less." Altair seems to fidget every time Malik says "fine".

"Is this conversation necessary?" Malik cocks his head to the side, trying to hint at the oncoming boredom.

"I wish to speak with you. I want to talk about what happened." Altair paces back and forth. 'Unusual' Thinks Malik.

"Altair, I was neither fatally wounded, nor killed and am not near death in any way shape or form. I am fin-,"

"It is not fine Malik!" Altair's outburst is one not expected. Malik jerks, forgetting his injured shoulder and his bruised back. He winces in pain and then feels Altair's presence next to him, checking to see if Malik is in pain.

"Altair, what is wrong?" Malik's hand brushes against Altair's arm, and soon the man is back on his feet, pacing yet again, and Malik misses the warmth he felt upon his hand.

"Words…they escape me…" Altair's words seem unsure of themselves.

"Then speak your mind." Malik blatantly states. Altair throws a glare over his shoulder, but it soon softens, and the amber eyes seem to melt into something more. An emotion Malik cannot place.

"I…I should have put you in such danger…it was my mistake. I should have avoided you yesterday at the market…I had told you to run." Altair turns and looks at him sternly.

"Like I was some coward, some dog running away with its tail between its legs?" Malik's voice bubbles with anger.

"It would have been better than you putting yourself in danger!"

"Do you think of me as some weak child Altair!?" Malik stands. A little too fast and feels himself tip over. The world seems to tilt. Malik waits for the sensation of his body to connect with harsh earth. But only feels a warm sensation. Malik looks up to see Altair's face inches from his. Altair's arm is wrapped around Malik's waist, holding him up and flush against his own body. Malik looks into the glowing amber eyes with seem to shine even in the blackest of nights.

Altair sighs and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Malik's, his hood obscuring both their faces. Altair's hot breath washes over Malik's face, and Malik feels himself close his eyes.

"Malik…" Altair's voice is nothing but a hushed whisper, "I…I do not want…I don't want to lose-,"

"Master Altair!" The shouts of a novice break the two apart. Altair's body is now across the other side of the room, the warmth of his body against Malik's gone, and he cannot help but feel pain in his heart as he watched Altair's attention focus to someone other than himself. Malik bites his lip.

"Master Altair!" The novice jumps through the entrance and lands quietly on the ground and looks at the two. He turns to Altair.

"Master Altair, Al Mualim wishes to see you. It is an urgent matter. He said as soon as I am to reach here, you are to be on a horse right away." Altair nods and then motions for the novice to leave and soon when he's gone, the room is silent once more. Altair looks to Malik, glancing once more, and then walks towards the fountain, ready to jump out of the roof. Malik wants to reach out, grab the robe, and hope that Altair will pull him close once more. Hope that he'll feel Altair's body heat once more, that he'll feel close to someone and not feel so alone.

"Altair…" Malik utters the name barely above and whisper, yet he sees Altair stop and turn his head slightly in his direction. Their eyes do not make contact and Malik can only see those chapped lips and rough stubble.

"Safety and Peace my Brother," Malik says the only thing he can think of.

"Safety and Peace…" Altair seems to hesitate, until, "Malik…"

His name is nothing more than a whisper. And soon the white shadow is nothing more than a ghost. Malik sighs deeply and the room feels empty now. He shuffles back towards his maps and parchment, clearing the mess that Altair had made. His hand brushes over something that isn't meant to be there. He looks to the object.

Malik smiles.

There on the counter lay a new quill made from a Hawk's feather, and a brand new inkwell.

Malik chuckles. It seemed Altair could say so much, without saying anything at all.