Alright, so this fanfic of mine is a wee bit old, and my writing style has changed slightly...but I wanted to start on it again. So here we go :)

Indulgent Association

The cold night breeze blew Altaïr's whitened garbs into the air, allowing it to raise and fall back down like a bizarre creature breathing through the night; his body lay flat along with his chest. The wounds across his body bled through his clothes, corrupting the pure white cloth causing it to avert into a dark crimson. Although his body ached, his face had softened and appeared peaceful while he lay perfectly still. His very image seemed to stand as a metaphor for the occurring night: mysterious, dark, and unpredictable.

Alessa remained frozen in her spot as the caravan reached the top of the incline, where she and Altaïr had stalled. Surely, her fear was being fed by the unknown, her past tragic events, and of course, Altaïr had just recently drifted off into an unavoidable slumber. She was alone, the only thing that now kept her company, was a caravan being led by an alien figure. Her first instinct was to run as far away as possible, but some invisible force had kept her standing still with wide, curious eyes. The little moonlight soon revealed the 'alien figure' to merely be a single man perched on the front of a small wagon carrying supplies, perhaps he was a traveling merchant. She suddenly was able to view his face, which quickly became alarmed with shock and surprise.

He pulled back on the lonely horse's reigns, commanding it to come to an abrupt stop, from there, he was able to stare dumb-founded at the scene before him. "Good God, what happened?" he inquired loudly between heavy breaths after a brief moment of silence. Alessa felt her body relax after being hit with a sensation of relief. Her senses quickly snapped back into reality and away from her dream-like state.

"You have to help us!" she pleaded. The man only stared with bewilderment as a strange stillness fell upon them with a strong force. She could see the whites in his wide eyes as he scanned the area, confirming what was a lifeless body and what was not. The small pools and traces of blood scattered across the arid ground with little pattern; it shined with an outlandish, luminescent glow.

"What has happened here?" the man finally bellowed through a shaky voice. Alessa could feel his growing anxiety beaming off of him like rays of light.

Alessa brought herself closer, allowing him to view her better, "We were attacked."

"We?" his question had him peering down at her with intense fright.

She pointed towards Altaïr, who was beginning to show signs of wakening. "Me and my… accomplice," she fumbled for the right description of her hero in white.

"Dear God, are two alright? Is he dead?"

She shook her head from side to side swiftly, "No, he's fine. At least I think so."

"He doesn't look fine from here," the man proclaimed as he shifted in his seat as if ready to jump down.

"He's a tough one." Alessa looked over her shoulder to view Altaïr. His hands were covering his face and his legs were now drawn up. She heaved a soft sigh after witnessing movement from him.

"Well, he's moving, that's good," he stated while lifting his chin up from his chest.

"Can you help us?" Alessa asked after turning back around to the face the friendly stranger.

His eyes fell upon her as his thin lips parted. The plea suddenly absorbed into his thoughts, "You bet I will, where are you two heading?"

She found herself at a stand-still. As far as she could remember, the name of the small village Altaïr had spoke about, before their brutal assault, had now been lost within her memories like a leaf in the wind. She could not recall the name. "I think he said something like-- Capernia or Caperna, it was on the lines of that--" "Capernaum?" he inquired with a bit of hope.

The name hit home, "Yes! That's the one."

"Hmm," he rubbed his chin while his eyes narrowed with thought. "That's pretty close I do believe; it's quite unfortunate you two were attacked so close to your destination, that village is less than a mile away."

"In which direction?" Alessa questioned with glowing eyes of growing bliss and gratitude.

"You think I'm just going to give you directions and then leave you two in this condition?" his words left her confused. "That's crazy talk, allow me to take you both there."

"Oh, no… you shouldn't--"

"No, it would be inhumane if I did anything less. Besides, I have to pass it up on my way to my next stop."

"You're far too kind," she said full-heartedly. Her eyes shifted from the brawny man towards the back of his wagon. "Where do you want us to go?"

He followed her line of sight and soon answered her question, "You both could fit on the back, there's enough room. Most of the stuff I did have, I already sold in Jerusalem, so the weight shouldn't be too hard on Aphra." He tugged lightly on the horse's reigns as it blew air from its widened nostrils.

"That's wonderful; think you could lend me a hand with him?" She gestured towards Altaïr, who was now groaning with irritation to himself.

"Of course," he said right before hopping down. When he landed, the ground around him seemed to send tremors through the dirt. He was rather tall, but mostly fat, nonetheless, his face bared an expression of pure kindness. He was the kind of man that somehow always reminded you of a plump, content grandfather. The man then exhaled deeply at the sight of the aggravated Altaïr as they approached, "He seems rather angry."

"I could only imagine…"

They now stood above Altaïr with watchful eyes. Once his eyes peeled open, he was hit with utter disbelief. "What's going on, who is that?" He sat up quickly while pointing a finger. His reaction had been so energetic and quick, that it left both of them surprised.

"Oh, where's my manners? The name's Bartholomew, but friends and family call me Barth." Alessa looked towards Barth and smiled.

"Bartholomew, eh? And may I ask what's going on?" Altaïr snapped, most likely unaware of his rudeness.

"Altaïr, he's offered to help us get to Capernaum," Alessa replied.

He stared silently, finding himself at a loss of words, before his eyes fell upon Fawzi who seemed to dance in place. "I think we're fine, we have a horse, I don't want it to be too much trouble."

"Non sense, I have an extra bridle, my other horse had broken her leg… had to take her down about a week ago. We'll just strap your's in where she would have originally have gone."

Altaïr didn't seem to be buying the offer. He hid his face under his hood, allowing himself to think thoughtfully. "I don't know, I don't see how it'll work."

"Here, let's get you up so I can show you," Barth announced while bringing his arms forward to grab the oblivious Altaïr who tensed up by the sudden movement.

With one quick motion, he had snatched Altaïr by his under arm, where then both Barth and Alessa guided him towards the wagon. Altaïr seemed mentally resistant, but still allowed his legs to help them carry him. Alessa couldn't find his face within the shadows cast by the point of his hood, but assumed his facial expression was rather distasteful. With his arm linked around over her shoulder, she was able to feel his muscles. Even though his figure was mostly obscured by the amount of robes, she knew he had a beautiful shape.

Altaïr soon found himself sitting on his rear, in the back of the wagon, with his back facing the front; he crossed his arms over his chest while straighten his back. He could only stare mindfully into the distance, over the incline they had climbed earlier, and into the eeriness of the spreading dark. His eyebrows lay furrowed and up against the tops of his eyes as his lids blinked quickly; an aura of "don't touch me, don't look at me, and don't even think about talking to me" had manifested around him. Luckily, for Barth and Alessa, they hadn't noticed his bitterness, for they were several yards away ready to prepare Fawzi. For some reason, Barth seemed to completely understand the young man's reaction; he knew the irritation wasn't directed at his hospitality, but at the situation. The young man had several cuts and injuries that still seeped blood.

Alessa knew Fawzi had taken a rather rude injury to the side, and began searching the horse's torso as closely as she could. Fortunately, Fawzi's coat was a brilliant white, which allowed her to spot the wound in seconds.

It was a small wound, nothing to worry about in the future, but she still gave the brave steed a loving pat to the neck. Fawzi's eyes were wide with worry as he gazed upon his master; his large teeth bared behind flaring, trembling lips.

"It's alright, boy," Barth said calmly while snatching the horse's reigns, "he sure is panicky."

After a short moment of both Alessa and Barth attempting to ease the horse's worries, they soon were able to lead the once frantic Fawzi towards the wagon and closer to his beloved master. As they approached, Alessa could see the backside of Altaïr's upper body, and immediately knew something was bothering him. Maybe it was the thought of his panicked horse, even though he didn't really show signs of unease, Alessa knew he was a good owner and knew he was worried.

At the sound of Fawzi's hooves clicking heavily on the ground, Altaïr turned his head to view his horse with a somewhat hidden joy. After their eyes met they both seemed to relax a little inside; especially Fawzi who had been so worried for his oddly identical partner.

"Just hand me that, right over there," Barth ordered kindly while pointing towards the bridle he had mentioned earlier, "and we'll secure this fine horse in so we can get heading." Alessa hesitated little and did as she was told by grabbing it from the inside of the wagon. The bridle was almost coincidently too close to Altaïr, so she was rather sluggish when seizing the durable piece of equipment. Altaïr has done a rather brilliant job at making Alessa even more curious with who he truly was and why he acted the way he did. She shot him a stare of interest, something that may have gone unnoticed for his hood obscured his eyes.

She lifted the bridle up and handed it over to Barth, who immediately placed it onto Fawzi so professionally and fast that she could almost see part of his unknown life flashing before her.

"Well," Barth began, staring at Alessa from the corners of his eyes with a friendly smile. "I suppose we're all set, let's get going."

Alessa shivered from the cold and wrapped her hands around her arms as best as she could; if she had known the night was supposed to bring suffering and fear instead of festivities and joy, she probably would had worn something that provided a little more cover and warmth. She walked with a wide stride on the side of the wagon towards the rear-end; her hair blowing back over her shoulders, eyes narrowing with thought.

The rear of the wagon sat a lot higher than she had thought it had, something that had gone undetected while helping Altaïr. She lifted her right leg high enough to touch her breasts, allowing her foot to plant into the back of the wagon. Her eyes instantly fell upon her foot, where she was hit with irritation at the sight of her choice of shoe. It had been a fancy, finely crafted sandal that was obviously only worn for special events.

She suddenly had the strong temptation to just scream at the top of her lungs out of aggravation and sadness. For some reason, at the sight of the sandal, she was hit with images of Ciro and her mother and only those two, for she had begun to loath her father. Alessa was not someone to possess a lot of hate of any kind, even after she had been beaten by a crazed man in the street, or robbed of her rights in anyway, and for her to have a feeling of hate for her father…now that was just something completely new. Perhaps it wasn't hate, but anger. She was angry with her father for not defending them or their mother, or anyone for that matter. If the treasure Mohsen had spoke of was true, then this whole chain of tragic events could have been avoided if her father had just told Mohsen what he wanted.

A quick movement caught her eye as she prepared to pull herself up next to her hero. Her eyes followed the movement only to meet Altaïr's broad hand out in front of her, palm opened. It had been his left hand, the hand with the missing ring finger. Oh, how the image brought questions into her mind. She snatched his hand, slightly impressed with his chivalrous ways, and found herself feeling weightless and he assisted her lift. She now stood straight within the wagon, staring distantly at the darkened horizon with many thoughts running wildly through her mind like a bunch of chickens with their heads chopped off. Altaïr peered up at her with watchfulness and waited briefly before snapping her out of her day-dreams.

"Alessa, you need to sit," his deep voice, although slightly scratchy, had her jumping at the sound of it.

"Oh," she replied quietly while taking a quick seat near a set of wooden boxes containing fruit. She wrapped up tightly into a ball with her pointed chin in between her knees and refused to make eye contact with Altaïr. Once Barth got the carriage moving along, she could feel Altaïr's probing eyes staring into the side of her face. She looked out of her peripheral only to confirm his stare; not even the dark of the luminescent night could hide those golden brown eyes of his.

Why is he staring at me? Alessa wasn't one for knowing when someone was gawking at her, but for some reason, his stare could not be unnoticed. It reminded her of the time back in the palace, when he was leaning his weight up against the tall pillar, arms crossed, mouth slightly parted, eyes locked straight ahead. Out of all of the people to save me, it had to be him; the most mysterious, yet utterly attractive man. How am I supposed to just cope with him? She sighed, hoping his eyes would perhaps fall onto Fawzi or even Barth, but he didn't seem to get the message.

Finally, he leaned forward with a smooth mannerism and an outstretched arm. "Alessa, you're arm," his words had her looking up quickly only to stare back down and snatch her arm. She turned it upright, allowing the bloody hole to come into view; the very sight of it had her cringing. "Come here, we'll cover it up so nothing gets inside." The very thought of dirt, or another stick, getting underneath her flesh had her scooting in closer; the heat emitting from his body was welcoming to her cold skin.

Before she could say anything, or disagree for that matter, Altaïr had ripped a piece of linen off of her elongated outfit. "I'm already lacking clothing, you didn't have to rip it."

"What else was I supposed to use?" his eyes drew upwards and sparkled as they fell upon her face. The instant contact forced her to meet his eyes, that stared through dark, intense brows.

"Honestly, I don't know anymore," she replied with a tone a irritation, but mostly sadness. She turned her head away to hide her forming tears. She hated feeling so damn vulnerable. Her hand was able to find her face and cover her mouth while she held back the familiar, upsetting melancholy that had become a new, frequent emotion for her.

Altaïr recognized it easily and could find no words of sympathy. He could only lift her arm up and wrap it up tightly while staring down through the dark. "You have injuries too," Alessa stated.

He shrugged off his own injuries with his words, "I'm fine." Barth watched them both from the corners of his eyes and smiled fatherly.

"I'm assuming you two are… mates," Barth stated abruptly, causing both Alessa and Altaïr too look up swiftly with wide-eyes. "It's good to see that kind of love shared between--"

"No, no, you're getting ahead of yourself, we're not 'mates'," Altaïr interrupted with no signs of hesitance.

"Oh," Barth turned in his seat to view the two, a wide ear-to-ear smile spreading across his face, "my bad."

Instantly, Altaïr shot Alessa a look that almost had her melting. It was a cross of playfulness and aggravation, it may have been the hardest expression to read on someone.

"Just friends?"

"Sure," Altaïr said after leaning backwards with a relaxed sigh.

Alessa stared down at her arm, holding it meekly, and began touching the recent make-shift bandage Altaïr had produced. It had already possessed a small dot of blood and threatened to cut-off her circulation in her arm, due to how tight he had wrapped it. Which, truthfully, was a good thing. She peered up to be met with Barth's boyish, friendly smile.

"Where are you two from?"

Alessa hesitated, along with Altaïr, who could only sit quietly with no reply. "Nazareth," Alessa answered.

Barth nodded with an expression of understanding plastering his wide face. "Very nice city, it's clean, well-kept, and the crime level is minimal. To be honest, I thought your answer would be different, little lady."

Alessa looked up curiously with raised eyebrows. "How so?"

"Well," he began, taking one more look at her before turning his attention back to the road, "you don't even remotely resemble the appearance of the natural residents. I assumed you had maybe been shipped from Europe with the others that had just recently arrived in the Holy Land." Barth's words had Altaïr glancing at Alessa from under his hood. "You're just so fair…"

"I suppose that makes sense," her eyes found the sky as she pondered, "but I've been here for as long as I can remember, I'm pretty sure I was conceived here, but…my father did mention something awhile ago about his home in Italy."

Barth shrugged and flicked both of the horses' reigns. "Italy, eh?" Barth paused, "Makes more sense. How about you, young man?" Barth's back was turned along with his head, so when Altaïr looked up to make eye contact, he was only met with the back of Barth's brown head.

He waited a long while before answering. "I don't know."

The reply had Barth looking over his right shoulder with bewilderment. "You don't know? Well, isn't that silly?" Barth said with a pleasant, joking tone, but Altaïr was clearly not in the mood for humor, and it was only confirmed when he stared flatly. Barth soon caught on, and realized that perhaps he had hit a sensitive spot. "Don't want to talk about it? I understand."

"No," Altaïr began while his eyes fell down upon his legs, where his right hand fiddled with the red sash that lay in his lap. "I honestly have no idea, that is all." Altaïr could feel Barth's stare disappear, which allowed his once tense body to relax.

Barth nodded agreeably and looked ahead, "Nothing wrong with that." His fatherly, kind presence was enough to make anyone feel comfortable. Alessa had to admit she loved the man's presence, it allowed her to forget her anger towards her own father. But to think, not even to know where you were born? Did he even know his own parents? Alessa glanced at the side of Altaïr's tanned face. I couldn't even imagine. There was this seemingly long moment of silence, that was rather relaxing as the night air passed by their faces.

Alessa broke the serenity. "Where are you from, Barth?"

Barth chuckled lightly. Judging by his recent accent and features, she guessed he may have grown up in a Hebrew family. "I was born in Jerusalem, but my father found a better job in this city called Qunaytra, located near Syria, so that's where I stayed until I was nineteen years of age." He flicked the reigns again. Fawzi appeared in a world of his own; enjoying the setup and his newly met horse friend.

The carriage moved steadily as time stood still in this make-believe world. Alessa continued to wait for her eyes to pop open and be hit with fresh sunlight, finding herself cozy in her bed. But she knew that reality was cruel, and this was no dream.

As the city's, Capernaum, faded lights came into view. Altaïr used his weakening legs to make himself stand for a better view, confirming the city's identity.

"Well, here's Capernaum. Known for its simplicity and homely feel, oh, and of course, carpet merchants." Barth announced with his booming voice.

"You don't need to bring us all the way to the front, right up here will be perfect." Altaïr said, pointing a finger at the location.

Barth turned in his seat. "Positive? I don't mind bringing--"

"Positive."

With that, Barth brought the horses several yards further before coming to a complete stop, where Altaïr immediately hopped down from the back. His boots stirred the lifeless dust on the ground. Alessa followed his lead and stayed closely behind, keeping a restless eye on her surroundings.

"Barth, I thank you deeply for helping." Altaïr finally said after bringing himself to the front of the carriage.

"It's quite alright, young man. We'll get your horse free and you two can be on your way."

While Barth and Altaïr removed Fawzi's bridles, Barth had grabbed Altaïr's hand, placing an object Alessa could not see into his palm. Altaïr looked down at it and shook his head.

"Absolutely not, you've done enough." Altaïr pleaded full-heartedly.

"No, take it. I can't help but see my own children in you two." He replied, turning his head in Alessa's direction before averting it back to Altaïr. Altaïr, again, shook his head. "Please, take it. It isn't much, but it helps."

There was a short moment of where the two men stared at each other's faces before the man in white finally gave it.

"Thank you."

Barth nodded and brought himself back into his seat. "You two be safe, you hear?"

Both Alessa and Altaïr watched him and nodded with agreement.

Altaïr lifted his chin up to reply, "You as well."

While Barth traveled away Alessa approached Altaïr from the side to look at what was in his grasp.

"What'd he give you?" She inquired thoughtfully.

He took a brief second to ponder, before angling his body in her direction; he held out his right hand and opened his wide palm. It had been a small amount of money, something Barth definitely did not need to give them.

"That was incredibly kind."

"It was," Altaïr confirmed before walking towards the city's gate with Fawzi's reigns in hand.