FF – Assassin's Creed

Descend

Warnings : Possible spoilers for Assassin's Creed Revelations!
Characters : Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Malik al-Sayf
Summary : There is white, and a universe of nothingness. In the middle of it, sits Malik.

A/N : Just finished AC:R, and seriously, ALL THE EMOTIONS. I've always been interested in the fact that Malik was the only person who did not get taken in by the Apple's power, and has somehow more or less ignored it. One of my headcanons was that Malik somehow has a being inside the Apple. With the release of AC:R's story, I felt that thought further reinforced, and the fact that when Altaïr uses the Apple huge numbers of pseudo-Assassins come to take down the enemy, and I'm just like, MALIK, MY BABY. So yes.

He breathes and closes his eyes.

There was white. Emptiness. A hollow universe of nothingness, and lingering echoes of his thoughts that whispered in desperate tones.

Malik is sitting on a bench, bright smirk and his novice uniform on, the dai robe resting on his lap with his arms - Altaïr notes both arms – crossed, and his head tilted at the seat beside him, beckoning him forward.

He sits himself beside Malik, clasping his hands together tightly.

"Malik." He breathes.

"Altaïr."

He can't help but smile at the acknowledgement. It was dry and sharp, yes, but he could feel the underlying warmth and pride.

He tells himself that it was nothing but a mere image. Visions that the Apple wanted him to see, yet he feels comforted in it. He tries to remind himself that Malik is in Jerusalem, but the voice in his head tells him that this was what he wanted all along.

A life where the incident had not happen, where the two of them could sit beside one another and simply talk, or revel in each other's presence.

He can't remember the last time that happened.

"Why are you here?" It feels almost silly to ask, but Altaïr thinks he must. "I know that you are not Malik. Are you an imagination, then? Or the presence of the Apple taking his form?"

'Malik' smiles at him in amusement and he recognises that look well. "I am an imprint of Malik. I am him, and I am not. Why are you here?"

Altaïr clenches his fist tightly. "The Apple is said to provide guidance, and... I am unsure."

A soft snort.

"Well then." 'Malik' stands up, his head shaking lightly but looking oddly pleased. "Come back when you are ready."

He sees Malik again two weeks later. Malik doesn't talk about the Apple, at least, not yet, so Altaïr assumes he doesn't know about the twin in the artifact's images.

Malik knows, and at the same time, doesn't.

"What do you know?"

There is a shelf behind Malik this time, reminiscent of the one in Jerusalem's bureau.

'Malik' raised an eyebrow.

"Be specific, novice."

Altaïr has half a mind to shake this Malik, to shout at him and stop him from impersonating the man he knows. Malik is away, far away in Constantinople on official business. He sighs.

"What kind of... knowledge, can you give?"

There's a glint in 'Malik''s eye when he leans closer to Altaïr smugly.

"I can tell you everything."

Somehow, Altaïr believes him.

"Can you tell the fate that rests before us?"

Altaïr wants to ask if he could see peace for the men and women, but he suspects there wouldn't be a satisfying answer.

'Malik' is leaning against a counter this time, scribbling with a quill into a book. It reminds him of the first time he sees Malik as the Dai of Jerusalem, making records and studying journals.

He doesn't stop his writing to grace him with a reply. "Yes." There is an unsettling silence, before he glances away from his papers to stare at Altaïr. "The future is ever changing. There is no constant fate."

Altaïr is, surprisingly, satisfied with the answer.

He finds Malik in the library, pouring over tomes and reports. He slides into the seat across from him.

"What do you think of the future?"

Malik rolls his eyes, and doesn't bother sparing Altaïr a glance. "It is ever changing, and there is no constant fate. If you have time to gibber then look through these reports. There are several discrepancies and I want your opinion on it."

Altaïr smiles again, and pulls the papers towards him.

Altaïr presumes that the Malik in the Apple knows all there is to know, and when Abbas betrays the Brotherhood and him, and has Malik assassinated, he rages at it for withholding the information, screaming between his anger and anguish.

He blames everything and himself, and 'Malik' only speaks when Altaïr has calmed down.

"That was how it should have been." His heart breaks at how sad Malik sounds, and he's unable to take it.

"You should have told me! I would have protected you! Taken you with me!"

'Malik' shakes his head and grips his shoulder tightly.

"No. That would not be what I have wanted."

"He has shamed you! Shamed your memory and with it, condemned you! And now you're gone! You are gone, Malik, you are lost forever!" He doesn't know when he has started taking this 'Malik' to be the real person, but he doesn't care. He wants to change everything. All the wrongs, he wants to right them.

'Malik' takes his face in his hands, and whispers gently.

"I am not gone, Altaïr. I live, and within you."

Altaïr chokes, and murmurs incoherently.

"You know what to do."

Altaïr nods, and his entire being is shaking, from inconsolable despair and despondency.

"I will help you."

Altaïr knows he will.

Altaïr is ninety-two, but he is twenty-five. The chambers of the underground library are empty, and he is sealed away. He leaves the Apple, hides it in a compartment in the wall, and takes a rest on a chair. An eternal rest.

He sees Malik standing before him, twenty-seven and uncertain.

"You should not have to do this."

Altaïr smiles. "I do what I must."

Malik is kneeling before him, holding his hands tightly. "You should not condemn yourself to die like this."

"No, Malik. This is how it should be."

Malik chokes on a painful laugh. "Ironic, is it not? The people we had sought to be, and only to die like this."

"I think it is a nice conclusion to our story." He sighs. "I am tired, Malik. Very tired."

Malik sits perched on the armrest of the chair. "Then rest, my brother, and I shall be here with you."

"Till the end?"

Malik smiles and presses his forehead to his. "Till the end, yes."

He rests the Key on his lap, and smiles with finality. "Then, safety and peace onto you."

"Onto you as well."