Altaїr let the steady pull of the earth and the cool morning air guides his hidden blade, steering his descent down from the rooftop. Closer and closer, his heart pounding in his ears with rage. Altaїr's hand reared back to deliver his fatal blow only to be caught by surprise, his golden brown eyes growing wide when his target suddenly whipped around and shouted, "What kind of fool do you take me for?" and swung the heavy spiked mace in his direction.

Everything went black as Altaïr felt the heavy weapon lick into his side, the momentum of it hurling him into a vacant wooden merchant stand off to the side. The stand immediately collapsed under his weight on impact, snatching his breath from his lungs.

The armored man's footsteps began to quicken pace towards the groaning Assassin barely moving atop the broken and splintered pile of dried wood.

"Did you really think you could sneak up on me, Assassin? I have been studying your kind for far longer than you could ever imagine. Your underhanded tricks will not prevail, not on this day."

Slowly Altaїr turned to his side and shook his head of the darkness masking his vision, coughing as his lungs shook with each profound gasp to recover the air stolen from them. He opened his eyes and his blurred vision cleared just in time to see the angered intruder looming over him, mace swinging wildly above his head in preparation to land another strike and finish the job. Altaїr quickly rolled the opposite way and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as he struggled to remove the broken leather belt, now cracked after taking the brunt of blow, from around his waist. He grimaced as his shoulder crashed into the brick lining the walkway, an arm instantly wrapping around his waist as the broken leather belt flew to the ground. Coughing up a bit of blood, he watched it splatter to the ground and stole a glance behind him before looking down at his forearm that was gashed by his fall into the wood.

The other man was regaining his footing and let loose a barrage of curses in French after missing his strike point and was pulled down into the wood by the heavy mace. Altaїr used the wall as a brace and hunched over as he fought to ignore the pain of his side that sent sparks of white exploding behind his eyes. Quickly he snatched up a discarded scimitar near his feet, undoubtedly left astray from the battle still flaring near the gates of the fortress.

"What is wrong Assassin? Afraid of death?" the other man chuckled lowly as he observed his opponents suddenly withdrawn attitude.

Altaїr glared at him as he pushed himself away from the wall, his blade held tightly in his fists and huffed out, "If you have been watching us for so long... you would know we do not fear death. We embrace it."

"Well, if you are smart, you will stay where you are..." The other man called out, his French accent thick and muffled from behind his iron helm.

"It does not seem as though I am the one who is afraid." Altaїr responded and straightened his stance, shaking his head once again to rid himself of the constant ringing in his ears. His steps began to falter as he moved towards his opponent.

The tall man in black watched in amusement while the Assassin struggled to gather his footing as though watching a newborn foal stand for the first time. "Do not flatter yourself. My fight is not with you."

"Oh but I think it is... You are looking for the Master, are you not?" Altaïr quipped and stopped to focus, his eyes never looking away from him.

The man's eyes bulged behind his helmet before a smirk slowly etched its way over his lips.

"YOU... are the so called Master of the Assassin's? I have spent at least a year in wait of this moment and this is what I find?" he questioned incredulously, his eyes scanning the battered Assassin up and down. He chuckled, noticing the stain of blood leaking along his white robe from his arm. "You are taller than I expected, but nevertheless, you are just a young man!"

Altaїr said nothing, staring back just as evenly.

The man continued. "Well if what you say is true, then you have just made my search that much easier!"

He quickly began to twirl his mace at his side once more with the intent on making sure his next blow would be final. They circled each other slowly in the narrow walkway of the merchant district, Altaїr's own blade out held firmly out at his side.

The armor clad man kept stride with Altaїr as they kept an equal distance from each other, leery and ever watchful. "Why don't you tell me where I can find the Piece of Eden? There could be a position for you in my higher ranks that might interest you if you do... Just imagine, you could have all the power, money... and women."

Altaїr merely chuckled and dismissed the notion, causing the man to frown. "Everything that I need... is right here."

"You Assassin's are such cowards. Right now, you hold more power in your hands than you could ever imagine, yet you have done absolutely nothing with it. You could create a new world and rule over these lands in a way that no one could." The other man responded with disdain.

"You know not of which you speak, Outlander."

"That's where you are mistaken. The King's effort to push Christianity on your people has been worthless and so was Robert DeSable's plan to overthrow him in order to create his own new world order. The King only wanted his beliefs to be held as truth for as far as his army could reach and Robert only wanted the orb for that same power, but only for himself. Now if they simply came together, they could both have had exactly what they wanted. But they failed... because of you and your Master!"

Altaїr bristled at his statement.

"But now it is my turn. If you will not join me, then I will take it all for myself..." he continued. "I promise you, this battle will not be an easy one."

"And I can promise you, Outlander, that your death will not be a merciful one." Altaїr countered. He twirled the handle of the long scimitar within his fingers then advanced quickly on him.

The Outlander swayed and swung the mace in an upward strike in Altaïr's direction who jumped back in time to dodge it. He attempted to land several blows on the Assassin, but was to no avail. The space they fought in was tight and the other was fast, able to evade the heavy mace, but with difficulty. The wound in his side was a hindrance he noted and would have to use it to his advantage.

Altaïr clutched above his hip, struggling not to curl over into the pain as he moved. This battle needed to end soon if he wanted to secure the orb and his city. The safety of its people depended on it. The Outlander's swing was slow, but he could recover quickly and that made it tricky, yet all the more interesting.

Cautiously, Altaïr waited for just the right opening to strike and dipped below the mace's swing to side step the Outlander who was caught by surprise when he lost his footing over the sandy walkway steps. The sharpened blade of his scimitar cut deep through the Outlander's armor and into his thigh, slicing it clean to the bone. The man cried out in agony and dropped his heavy weapon. Altaïr twisted around from behind him and jerked the curved blade forward to pierce the man's torso, but his fluid movements were also foreseen and missed.

The Outlander dove away from him and crawled up to limp along the cold dusty pathway and tear through the empty streets towards the Assassin's fortress.

"And I am the coward..." Altaïr huffed and hopped over the brick railing of the walkway.

Without delay, he ran in between two homes and jumped his way up the sides using the opposite walls as leverage to scamper to the roof. He saw the armored man moving in haste up the road even with his damaged leg and he bolted after him, skipping along the rooftops and merchant stands.

The Outlander glanced behind him as he heard Altaïr's heavy boots closing in atop the rickety merchant stands behind him. He tore around the corner just in time as the last stand he passed collapsed, the crashing of wood and clay pots breaking in Altaïr's wake as he leapt from its top, barely missing him. He took the opportunity to speed up. The fortress was so close where his men waited to aid him once he reached it. He exited the merchant district, grasping his thigh in pain as he made his way up the fortress steps.

Altaïr's slid low to a stop once he hit the ground, wincing at the ache of his side and watched with irritation as the Outlander awkwardly crept up the steps and blared through the gates. Slightly winded, he pushed himself up and took off after him. The fortress was his domain and no one knew it better than him. He would make sure it was the last step the Outlander would ever make.

He stopped in his tracks once he reached it and was surprised to find the training yard out front quiet and barren. His golden eyes scanned the grounds as he walked quietly towards the library, hearing only the crunch of his boots over the cold, dry earth. He kept his scimitar close at his side and crept through his library.

It was in shambles, his books thrown from their overturned shelves. Several of his guard's bodies lay across the floor amongst the debris and he rushed up to one of them the moment he saw movement.

"Mihran?" Altaïr said quietly as he pushed away the bookshelf lying over his body. He wasted no time in crawling down to him. Slowly Mihran opened his eyes and looked up at his Master with a painful expression. Altaïr began to shove the books off the young man but stopped as the bloodied stain of his grey robe and a long gash across his torso came into view. Mihran groaned, his intake of breath strangled as he attempted to rise, but Altaïr stopped him. The minute his eyes had scanned over the younger man's chest, he knew the wound would claim his life...

"Mihran, you must not move..." he said and looked away from the other man's eyes and scanned the library cautiously as he held him down amongst the rubble of books.

"I must keep fighting... " Mihran choked out, his hands gripping the cloth of Altaïr's robe as he fought against the darkness that had come to claim him. "I swore my life to serve you the day I became-... a member of the Brotherhood..."

"And you have served me well, my friend." Altaïr responded and gripped the red stained hand Mihran had offered to him tightly.

The other Assassin slowly laid back into the dusty tomes, his breath shallow and no longer capable of fighting off the inevitable. Gradually, Mihran's dark brown eyes grew vacant as they stared vaguely up at the towering ceiling of the library. "I am dying..." he sighed shakily, "Aren't I?"

Altaïr gave a slight nod as he leaned over and looked into his expressionless eyes. "Yes... You are strong fighter, Mihran... But it is time now that you must let go."

The young man beneath him looked at him one more time and Altaïr watched quietly as the labored breaths of the other Assassin slowly ebbed away. "It... It has been an honor to have served you... my Master."

Altaïr looked down at his hand when he felt Mihran's grip lessen, his eyes darting back to the young man's face when he let out a quiet sigh and departed from this world. Slowly Altaïr reached up to close the other man's eyes and pulled his grey hood over his head and into place.

Altaïr sat next to his guard, rage starting to well within his chest. He didn't want to think of the number of men who had been lost already... The shriek of a woman filled the air and Altaïr's white hooded head darted up from his glaze of fury.

'The Houri...' he thought and scowled as his mind reverted back to the Outlander's escape from his clutches.

He removed the dagger holster from Mihran's chest and buckled it to him and grabbed his scimitar then tread carefully to the garden behind the library, leaving behind the body of his youngest member of the Brotherhood. His eyes widened slightly when he found the man in question and a few of his men standing over the Houri who sat about the cold grass in roped bonds. Nadidah looked up at him as he entered and she whimpered slightly behind her gag, garnering the attention of the Outlander's men.

"Well it is about time you arrived. We have yet to finish what we started... I believe you were still attempting to kill me." the Outlander spoke somewhat sarcastically under his helm as he stepped forward from the men.

"Trust I will get to it." Altaïr stated, noticing the Outlander's arm held suspiciously behind his back, mace held tightly in the other. He took his time and scanned the scene before him. The Houri were huddled together in the middle of the group of foreign men, frightened and wide eyed. He saw one of the twins look at him and shake her head, a warning etched in her large black eyes.

The burly man with blonde hair and crimson armor stepped up from the others and to the Outlander's side. "Let me kill him! I want to see if he will provide more of a challenge than their women."

The Outlander gave a nod and outstretched an arm, sending his handful of men in the direction of the single Assassin in a crimson blaze. The Houri scampered from the ground, screaming as they darted to the far corners of the garden. Altaïr jumped atop the railing of the steps and took off, the intruding men chasing him along the icy tile of the garden. Reaching over his shoulder, the Assassin pulled several daggers out between his fingers and without hesitation he flung them in their direction in a spray of perfectly aimed death, killing all but the blonde. When the blonde followed after him hot at his heels, Altaïr dove from the rail towards the cold, hard ground. Anticipating the other's movements when he hit the dried grass, the Assassin spun to his back and watched with a malicious smirk as the blonde's eyes widened in surprise to find his weight inevitable weight had descended upon the long scimitar instead.

Enraged that his men were slain so quickly, the Outlander then pulled the Piece of Eden out from behind his back. "You cannot win this Assassin! My men have torn this place to shreds and finally found what I have been searching for!"

Long ago having lost his calm demeanor, Altaïr was fueled by anger as he hurled the now dying man from atop him. Jerking his blade from the body quickly, he darted up and ran towards the Outlander who had limped his way back to the stairs to add more space between him and his white robed opponent. His golden eyes focused on the yellow light of the orb beginning to flicker in the man's grasp and the Outlander fell back against the slick steps when Altaïr closed the distance in the blink of an eye. The Assassin immediately sat over him, pressing him down with his weight and raised his scimitar above his head with the intent on driving it into the Outlander's chest to put an end to it before it could even begin. The Outlander's eyes filled with panic, struggling to bring the orb completely to life as the blade came down. Altaïr groaned with irritation, feeling the unseen pressure of the Piece of Eden against his might as it responded to the man's will, preventing his blade from piercing his armor. Images of the now dead members of the Brotherhood flashed through his mind as he struggled to drive blade forward, until he thought of the woman he swore to protect. He'd promised himself that he would no matter what, even if it meant his life. He didn't if she was even still alive, but he refused to let her down for another time. Holding his blade steady he reached back and grabbed his last dagger from the holster and jammed it into an opening in the Outlander's armor along his side. The moment he screamed in pain, the orb's bright light became unstable, releasing the persistent resistance and allowed Altaïr to thrust his long blade deep within the armored man's chest.

A guttural groan pierced the air and Altaïr slowly leaned down, his voice deep and scornful as he spoke between heavy breaths."The Piece of Eden is only powerful... as long as the mind that controls it remains focused."

Malik skid through the garden gate, his men readily behind him. He watched the event over the steps as the armored man he saw before cry out beneath Altaïr, the Assassin gripping him tightly at the armor covering his chest. His men moved forward to aid Altaïr, but Malik raised a hand to stop them.

"No, this victory belongs to Altaïr... We will not interfere."

The man's distressing cry was silenced as Altaïr tugged the lengthy blade buried in the man's chest upward several times, his hands grasping at its hilt beneath the Assassin's fingers in vain. Altaïr stared down into wide icy blue eyes filled with anguish even through the opening of his helm and he watched with satisfaction as the life drained from the man's gaze.

"I swore your death would not be a merciful one..." Altaïr stated harshly and jerked the blade one final time as the man went stiff, "...and I have kept my promise."

"Altaïr!" Mailk called as he finally ran down to him and grabbed his shoulder tightly. "Let him go, Altaïr... It is over."

The Assassin continued to glower as he stood then pressed the sole of his leather boot against the man's torso to wrench his blade from the Outlander's chest to finish him off.

"Do you not want to see his face?" Malik asked with furrowed brows, but gave up when Altaïr remained quiet and gave the Outlander one final glare before allowing his stoic mask to once again slip back into its place. Altaïr shook his head finally and leaned down to pluck the Piece of Eden from the Outlander's grasp.

"Well the battle at the city gates has died down and all that remains are a few stragglers of his men who are being snuffed out as we speak." Malik continued next to Altaïr as he watched his men move about to retrieve the scattered Houri and untie them. "You have done well, Altaïr... Despite all that has happened, I am sure that even Al Mualim would have been proud."

Altaïr's golden brown gaze looked back at Malik before turning to stare down at the lifeless body as a small pool of blood leaked down the steps.

They both turned as one of Malik's men ran up through the garden entrance, his face alight with news. "Malik, Master... We believe we have found her."

...

Altaïr's mind raced as he and Malik sped down through the city towards the residential district at the bottom of the hill. None of them knew for sure if she still lived as Malik's guard had not been allowed entrance into the woman's home where Adah was harbored. The sun had finally risen and Altaïr was able to see the destruction and dead bodies of various members of the Brotherhood who had given their lives to protect the city.

"It is here!" called Malik's guard as he came to stop and leaned over to catch his breath while waiting for his superiors to catch up.

Altaïr ran up albeit a bit slower with the injury at his arm and side still aching, Malik close at his heels. He looked down at the guard still working to recover his breath then looked to the door as the guard pointed to the small home at their right.

Altaïr trekked up to it and stopped. He took a quick glance back to Malik who responded with a somber expression in his chocolate eyes and nodded. Slowly Altaïr's leather gauntleted hand rose to the door and he paused for a moment, noticing it still smeared with small amounts of blood, before wracking his knuckles against the wood.

It remained quiet as the men stood before the door. Hearing no response he knocked with a bit more force. Still nothing. Altaïr groaned and leaned against the frame of the doorway, gripping his aching right arm, noticing it had bled completely through the lower half of his sleeve. Malik made a sound to say something, but Altaïr silenced him with a raised hand. "It is not I that I am concerned about now."

Altaïr pulled back his white hood and pressed his ear to the door. This time he heard rustling as someone grew closer until the door opened partially and he found himself staring down at an older woman with short peppery hair and olive eyes.

"I have told you for the last time, you cannot ent-" Hessa began, but her voice died away. She gasped and her eyes widened in astonishment. "The Master of the Assassin's..." she breathed out.

Her eyes looked over Altaïr's tall frame as he leaned against her door, noticing the red stain of his left arm where he clutched tightly. She also gave the man behind him a good once over, his black robes and missing arm giving him a menacing appearance although his face expressed a different tone. It was odd for two men of their status to formally make an appearance at your doorstep despite the raid that occurred just an hour earlier.

"Is there a young girl here?" Altaïr asked quietly. "She is of dark skin, long curly hair..."

The older woman eyed them both again and glanced back into her home. Without hesitation, she pulled back the heavy door and allowed the two men to enter. Quickly Altaïr trekked inside, looking about the house for any other signs of life.

"Wait! You must not go in there!" he heard the woman's voice call behind him as he quickly brushed back the ornate rug blocking his entrance into the main room. He stopped, his golden eyes widening the moment they locked with the sight that lay over the cold tile floor.

Adah's small form lay still and unmoving, covered only by the white cloth that was strewn haphazardly over her. It was soaked through by a pool of crimson that had seeped from beneath her. Altaïr heard Malik's sharp intake of breath behind him as he too emerged to observe the scene.

The room smelled of blood and it sickened him to see her drenched in it. The pain of his side and arm became that of a distant memory as Altaïr stepped over to her and sank to his knees. He noticed the bulge of her stomach was gone and felt himself go numb inside. His brows furrowed and his widened eyes shot around the small room in search of the missing infant. Finally he looked back to her when his search yielded no results and his hands shook as he ran them over her cold cheeks and naked shoulders. Her eyes remained closed behind her thick smoky lashes and he quietly muttered for her to awaken although it was so low he wasn't sure the command even slipped past his lips.

"Adah, you must rise..." he tried again as he felt another part of him dying inside when she continued to lay limp. Before he knew it he grasped her upper arms and shook her softly.

Altaïr tensed and gritted his teeth as he stared down at the young girl below him, his face a mask of torment. The words he waited so long to hear from her rattled over and over in his mind, when she had at long last told him she loved him. She couldn't leave him behind. He had come too far and worked too hard for those words just for her to disappear where he could never get her back. But there was so much blood. He shook her much harder this time.

The older woman stepped into the room and called for Altaïr to stop. Her steps were halted as Malik's good arm shot up to prevent her passage. "Wait..." he stated low to her, his own eyes never leaving Adah.

But Altaïr never heard them as the room had gone completely still around him the moment irises of the warmest hazel fluttered open and met with his. Suddenly her upper half was pulled into his warm, strong embrace and Adah closed her eyes, smiling softly to herself at the press of his full lips to her forehead.

"I was afraid I would never see you again..." He pulled back at the sound of her strained voice and felt his expression soften as he looked at her, her tired bronze face just as lovely as ever to him even in her state. After a moment, the tension of the past few minutes commenced to evaporate from his troubled psyche as though the weight of the entire city was lifted from his shoulders. Her lower half was surrounded in so much blood, but she was alive... Very much alive.

Adah's half-lidded gaze looked up into his handsome, rugged face as his eyes continued to search over her as though he were trying to make sure what he saw was truth. She took a moment to really look at him when he reached to brush away the sweaty ebony locks drooping into her face. There was a red stain of his arm where he was hurt, the warm wetness of his own blood oozing slowly against the cold skin of her shoulder. The pupils of his golden eyes were large and the long fingers of his hands were trembling and for the first time, she swore he was afraid.

His gaze returned to hers when she reached up to touch his face, his eyes closing as he grasped that same hand and leaned into her touch. She was in pain and was so tired, more than she had ever been in her life.

Altaïr's eyes opened abruptly when her hand began to slide away from his face, but he forced himself to relax when the old woman crept up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, advising that Adah had only slipped back into a much needed sleep.

...

It had taken much work to return Masyaf and the fortress back to its former glory after the raid. Many of its inhabitants had perished, but their lives were not given in vain. On that same day, Altaïr had the Piece of Eden buried away with the dead in a tomb deep under the heart of the fortress and had to fight himself inwardly to not go in to retrieve it as it was removed from his grasp. The Outlander's words of how much power the orb held had affected him more than he thought, but deep down he knew even when he was old and grey that he would never let another soul know of its existence. It was just too dangerous because he knew that regardless of how much good would derive from its use, the best of men could still become corrupt.

For the safety of the Holy Land and its people, Altaïr chose from that day forth to remain quiet about it and decided it best to rethink their methods and would begin anew with a more secluded existence in order for the world of the Assassin's to continue. No longer was it just himself that he had to be concerned about as he now had more than just himself to protect...

...

Groggily, Adah's hazel eyes opened as the light and warmth of the early morning sun slowly began to fill the quiet room. She was cozy and content as she peeked about from under the white afghan, recognizing the ever familiar surroundings of Altaïr's quarters. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach and her barely conscious mind caused her to shoot straight up from her bedding, throwing the afghan back to find that beneath her white robe, her rounded stomach had vanished. The sudden movement jarred her sleeping partner awake, causing him to release a muffled sound of discomfort from beneath the thick afghan.

"Altaïr!" she breathed out, her same hand rushing up over her mouth in surprise.

She found him just inches away from her, lying on his side but he didn't move. Adah blinked several times in wonder as to why he had not vanished before day break until the previous events began to consume her thoughts.

"A bit early for you to be up and about... would you not agree?" he responded. His eyes were still closed as he spoke. She noticed one of arms was wrapped in a cloth swing and his bare torso bore a thick bandage concealing his injury from her eyes and she thought sadly at the new scars added to his bandage decor.

Her mind was abuzz of confusion and fright, memories filled of fire, fighting, and death. So much death... The swell of her belly was gone, but where was the baby? She looked around the room hurriedly then back to Altaïr's motionless form still attempting to hold onto the welcoming sleep he so desperately needed. She felt her eyes well up with water as panic began to set in. The infant was nowhere in sight.

"Wh-What happened, Altaïr? The baby... He is not here!" she called out in alarm, her glassy eyes searching the room again as her fingers clutched the hem of the afghan tightly.

Altaïr finally opened his weary, golden brown eyes after sensing her distress. In frustration when Altaïr did not produce a speedy response, she moved to get up and search thoroughly on her own, but cringed as the aches and pains of her lower regions quickly made themselves known. She felt his good hand tighten about her wrist to calm her down. Why wasn't he concerned?

"I do not understand..." she whimpered softly. Suddenly her worried gaze darted to the wooden door across the room when the metal latch opened and a very familiar woman entered the room.

"There you are..." Hessa smiled, carrying in a round woven basket covered by a red cloth. "You have been sleeping for several days. The Master and I were beginning to fear you would not awaken."

Altaïr pushed himself to a sitting position next to her, wincing at the pain of his side springing to life. The older woman took a seat on the floor next to Adah and carefully placed the round basket in the young girl's lap. "It looks like I have arrived just in time. You see, someone has been very eager to meet you."

Adah stared dumbly at the basket in front of her. She looked up at Altaïr who presented her with a lop-sided smile and nod of encouragement. Very carefully she peeled back the red cloth and peered into the basket, her wet hazel eyes becoming wide with bewilderment at finding another tiny pair of sleepy hazel ones peeping out at her under the red cloth. She gasped and blinked several times practically in disbelief, her mouth slack at a loss for words as feelings of relief poured through every nerve of her body. She wiped away a stray tear that had unknowingly fallen and reached a hand into the basket as she, for the first time, studied the resulting product of the many lustful encounters her and Altaïr had partaken in.

Her son's skin was soft, kissed with a light tan a few shades lighter than her own and his small head was covered in an unruly short, mop of hair that held an eerie resemblance to the man sitting beside her... His small face was round and chubby, the same of his grasping fingers, but already she could virtually see the long angular features of his nose and face that would continue to become so much like his father's as he grew. He looked back at her quietly, giving her a small toothless grin.

When Altaïr leaned against her to examine his son for what would probably be the twentieth time since she had been sleeping, Adah smiled softly to herself, yet she couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that washed over her.

Aside from the baby's eyes, nothing of her own features had really passed on... He was Altaїr through and through, all the way down to his tiniest toes as it seemed his father's blood line was the more dominant and sadly, she couldn't help feeling as though she had been erased.

"Adah... Hessa has agreed to remain here with you until you have regained enough of your strength." Altaïr stated quietly and outstretched his partially bandaged hand into the basket to run his fingers through the infant's soft, dark hair.

"That is right, in fact, he would not allow me to refuse even if I wanted to." Hessa chuckled lightly with a warm gaze as she watched them. "I must admit I was skeptical when he first appeared at my doorstep as the battling came to an end, but the concern in his eyes when he asked for you is what did me in. There were several casualties lost on that day, but he refused to give up on you. Later he will show you the small shrine he had built for your friend out in the back of the garden so she will never be forgotten... You are very lucky to have someone that cares for you the way that he does. There are not many in this world that ever gets to know what it feels like."

When the baby wrapped a hand around Altaïr's much larger finger and let loose a gaping yawn as fatigue set in, Adah smiled wistfully at the thought of his gesture for Sameera and she spoke." At first... I too, did not know if I would ever experience it again. Until I realized what I actually had."

They all watched in amusement as the infant's hazel eyes slowly began to close while Adah played dimly with the bottom of his tiny feet until he succumbed to sleep.

"It looks like you are not the only one who is still very much in need of rest. You both have been through a lot and he has had a very difficult and dangerous journey into this world." Hessa commented, standing up quietly to slowly pick up the basket. "I will take him for now."

"So soon?" Adah called out, her hand automatically extending towards the retreating basket.

"You will need as much rest as you can get. He will be in good hands and we will be by again later." The other woman responded and gave them both a slight bow and smile before turning to exit the room.

"Hessa..." Adah called out softly once the woman reached the door, garnering her attention one last time. "I thank you... for all that you have done. If not for you, he would have never made it."

"That will not be necessary, Adah. It is I who should be thanking you for reminding this old woman to never turn your back on those in need." Hessa said quietly and looked down at the small sleeping baby in her arms for a moment before turning back to Adah. "I have been alone for so long after my husband's death that I had forgotten what it meant. Besides, it is the least I can do. In the meantime, you two should think of what you are going to call this little one."

Altaïr and Adah both watched quietly as the woman disappeared through the wooden door and out of sight.

"She is right, you know?"Adah said finally and looked thoughtfully over to Altaïr, her face suddenly beaming as the perfect name came to mind...

But she wanted his approval first.

He smirked at her, his golden gaze looking her up and down acknowledging her mischief. "You have decided already?"

She nodded and lay down slowly amongst the bedding as Altaïr followed her descent and pressed himself against her, nuzzling her face as she said the name. "Mahdi..."

Upon realizing her reasoning behind it, Altaïr looked directly at her pleading expression and said the names meaning aloud, "The one guided to the right path."

He knew the destiny he wanted their son to lead was different than the one she was hoping for instead. But this way, it would not be up to him, nor her. Instead it would be of their son's own choosing of which path he would walk, whether it is the life of an Assassin or as just another member of society. And for some reason, it was an alternative that he felt satisfied with accepting. He nodded his approval and watched her face brighten enough to illuminate an entire room all her own. Needing no encouragement, her arms wrapped about his neck, pulling him down against her.

"It is very fitting... I am proud of you, Adah." he said low against the shell of her ear then melded his lips with hers, relishing the way the small woman beneath him dissolved with pure happiness for the first time since he could remember. She smiled at him one more time when he pulled away, her hand lingering along the side of her beloved's face and coarse stubble of his jaw before releasing him, yawning as she turned her back to him and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Altaïr's stoic mask fell and he just sat there for a while, watching her with a loving expression, a show of weakness that he reserved just for her while she slept. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, her dark silken skin, and long ebony locks were strewn over the white cloth of his bedding like an overturned flask of the thickest cocoa milk. How could he have ever known that the adorable little thief that trailed behind him all those years ago would be bold enough to steal his own heart right out from under him? It took him a long time to regain her love and in return of his efforts, she had given him more than anyone else has ever done by providing him with his first born son.

He pulled his arm out of its cloth sling despite the pain it caused and ran his fingertips lightly down her cloth covered spine. Before he knew it, he had lowered himself behind her. That same arm came around and his long fingers intertwined with hers as he pressed his face against her cheek, her ear. Despite her sleeping, he knew she was listening and so he whispered he loved her for the hundredth time where only she would hear.

...

You make me feel so divine
Your soul and mind are entwined
Before you I was blind
But since I've opened my eyes
And with you there's no disguise
So I could open up my mind
I always loved you from the start
But I could not figure out
That I had to do it everyday
So I put away the fight
Now I'm gonna live my life
Giving you the most in every way
I belong to you
And you
You belong to me too
You make my life complete
You make me feel so sweet

...

A/N: And that is it... The end. The quote above is a portion of the song 'I belong to you' by Lenny Kravtiz. Excellent song and makes me think of A & A's relationship in this story. It took me way longer than I ever expected to finish and I apologize. I thought I never would at one point because I had become blocked and the more I thought about it the more it irked me to finish it. AC was so ridiculously vague in what truly happened to Adah even though she was his only love interest. But I later discovered that in AC II, Altaïr's journal actually states that Adah had died and it had eaten him up inside because he was unable to save her. Sadly, he moves on after a long time and eventually meets another woman named Maria so instead I decided to spare Adah that fate. I think she deserved a bit more than that in this particular story. Hope all that has read Addiction has enjoyed it and thanks for reading. Feel free to let me know what you thought. I would love to hear from you! Take care!