Hello again! I decided to write another chapter once I finally got a gap in between my homework and work!
As always, I don't own the characters, I just manipulate them for my own fun :)

It was early morning when the warm Jerusalem sun shone through the bureau's latticed window, softly touching Malik's face. Malik sighed, rubbing his eyes. Why did the sun have to disturb him? He was quite comfortable where he was, watching over Altaïr…

"Altaïr!" Malik started, his mind flashing back to seeing Altaïr's blood painting the walls of his bureau with bright red handprints. Malik looked over to his friend, who was thankfully still entangled in the sheets of his bed; covered in bandages rather than blood, sleeping heavily.
Malik heaved a sigh of relief; at least he was healing, he was alright now.

It had been four days since Altaïr had crashed into his bureau, sending Malik's life into turmoil. Malik slumped back into the wicker chair that had become his bed while looking after Altaïr, who had taken residence in his own during his incapacitation. Altaïr was beginning to show signs of improvement after sleeping feverishly for three days, his fever had gone down and there was less blood on soaking through his bandages after each change, good signs. Malik smiled as he rose and quietly walked over to his sleeping friend, who was softly snoring.

A Master Assassin? Snoring? Kadar would have loved that one. Malik stopped at the edge of the bed. Kadar, his carefree little brother; he was gone forever, and all because of the idiot of a man who lays upon his bed. Malik could have killed Altaïr so many times out of blind rage, but he no longer felt such anger towards him, he had watched Altaïr change throughout the months that he had been dropping into the bureau for assignments. Seeing Altaïr lay on the verge of death, Malik had realised it; he no longer hated Altaïr, he wasn't the Altaïr that had arrogantly surged forwards to confront De Sable, he wasn't the man who had left him and Kadar for dead, intent on surviving himself.

Malik knelt beside the bed and placed his head upon Altaïr's warm shoulder, of course he no longer hated Altaïr; he loved him.

"Malik?" Altaïr groaned as he rolled over after feeling something nudge his shoulder. Malik jumped up.

"Altaïr! Are you okay? Do you need anything?" overwhelmed to see Altaïr awake; Malik clasped his hand with Altaïr's. Altaïr closed his fingers over Malik's, sighing at the soft touch of his gentle fingers.

"I just thought I felt something on my shoulder is all," Altaïr coughed and groaned, still sore from the wound in his side the imbecile of a guard had given him. "I assume because I am looking at the dirty bureau walls that I'm not dead." He chuckled. Malik let go of his hand and jokingly slapped Altaïr across the head. He smiled as Altaïr tried to duck out of the way, he was fine.

"I think you'll find that these are the cleanest walls of any building in Jerusalem, and since you seem to be fine, I'll go back to my Rafiq duties." Malik turned to exit the room.

"No, no please don't go! I enjoy your company." Altaïr laughed as he made to get up from the bed, but fell back into after being stricken with pain from the movement. Malik shook his head in argument, seeing the pained look on Altaïr's face.

"If that's how you are, I don't think I'll go too far." Malik shook his head, resolving that he'd bring his unfinished maps in here, so as to complete his work and watch Altaïr at the same time. Did Altaïr really enjoy his company?
"How do the bandages feel? Are they too tight?" He moved over to gently pull at the bandages, so as to remove them. Altaïr pushed his hand away, blushing slightly.

"No, they're alright. I'm just sore."

Malik felt shocked; Altaïr was blushing? Did he share Malik's odd feelings? That couldn't possibly be true. Malik drew his hand back, unsure of what to do. Malik stammered to find something to say, but was interrupted by Altaïr taking his hand in his own, delicately caressing Malik's fingers with his calloused thumb. Altaïr lent over with a slight grimace to kiss Malik's hand; he felt like a little girl, being courted by a noble. He felt silly and turned away as he felt his face become hot. Altaïr snickered and move his face towards Malik's, nuzzling his nose with his own. Malik drew back at the feeling of Altaïr's lips upon his own, soft and forceful but unsure? Malik gasped. Altaïr was kissing him, he had dreamed about this happening but he never thought even in his wildest dreams that it would ever be a reality!
Malik eagerly pressed his own lips back upon Altaïr's, finding every cut and curve of his lips until his lungs screamed for air.

"I never thought you felt the same… I thought you must surely hate me for what I've done." Altaïr panted, looking into Malik's deep brown eyes.
"I've been a fool."

Malik looked taken aback.
"Normally I'd make no argument, but what is this? What are you talking about?"

"All this time, I never told you I was sorry; too damn proud. You lost your arm because of me, lost Kadar. You had every right to be angry." Altaïr glanced down, away from Malik's eyes, away from the man to whom he had caused so much pain.

"I do not accept your apology." Malik studied his hand as it lay in his lap.

"I understand." Altaïr sighed; he would have to leave this place. Leave Malik.

"No. You don't. I do not accept your apology because you are not the same man who went with me into Solomon's Temple. And so you have nothing to apologize for." Malik grew angry, annoyed at Altaïr's pigheadedness, his idiocy.

"Malik..." Altaïr looked incredibly confused, not entirely understanding where Malik was going with his thoughts.

"Perhaps if I had not been so envious of you, I... would not have been so careless myself. I'm just as much to blame." Malik proclaimed abashedly. He wanted Altaïr to know that he didn't hate him anymore.

"Don't say such things." Altaïr still felt confused, but what Malik was saying didn't entirely add up, where was he leading? Was he trying to put the blame on himself rather than Altaïr?

"We are one. As we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. In this way we grow closer, we grow stronger." Altaïr finally understood. Malik was forgiving him for becoming who he was today, not for what he had done in the past. Altaïr felt a tear begin to well in his eye.

"Malik… Thank you, brother." Altaïr began to turn away but stopped himself. He reached over and softly kissed Malik on the cheek, it was the only way he knew how to show his thanks to its fullest extent. Malik blushed slightly.

"I love you, Malik."