It was a slow day, the sun wane overhead, winter was coming, slowly but surely, like the blooming of a flower. Malik liked winter, there was more rain, or sometimes snow if they were lucky, that was a treat in Jerusalem, not like in Masyaf, high up in the mountains where they got more snow than rain in the winter. There hadn't been any informants dropping by, or clients and the only sound in the bureau was Malik's pen as he drew long careful lines marking out the twisting streets of Aleppo. He'd been to Aleppo once, for a spice trader who continuously sold opium mixed with something in it that made people sick. Normally it wouldn't have mattered to the Order, but a shipment had made it's way to Masyaf somehow and when two Assassins had died Al Mualim had sent Malik to clean up the problem. That had been years ago, he had been a journeyman then, no full brother would have been sent for a mere spice trader. It had been his first solo mission though and that—

He looked up from his work as he heard movement above on the lattice of the garden. He kept his hand poised just above the parchment before he heard the soft 'thump' of someone dropping down onto the stone. A moment later his eyes narrowed slightly when Altair appeared. He was here on a mission, but Malik found it annoying when he showed up unless it was to try and convince Malik he'd collected enough information to earn a feather.

"Safety and peace Dai," Altair said, head bowed slightly.

Malik blinked, confused and suspicious of why Altair was being unusually humble or respectful. "I had both till you arrived," he said not even able to be civil in return. It had been many months since the incident, but it didn't mean the wound (literal and figurative) was any less raw than it had been, and Malik did not forgive easily. Altair frowned slightly but as always, took the abuse, as though he knew he deserved it (which he did). "What do you want? Come to beg a feather?" he sneered.

Altair shook his head slightly, "I simply had a request. May I borrow a dish?"

The question floored Malik. "What?" he asked and leaned his hand on the counter, pen still gripped in his hand.

"Do I need to repeat myself? If I can't I will just go elsewhere," Altair said flatly, nothing in his voice betrayed why he needed a dish or what he was going to do with it. The fact that Altair even wanted one was interesting to say the least.

If only to try and satisfy his curiosity Malik said, "You may borrow one," he said.

"Thank you," again with the politeness. Malik couldn't remember when Altair had been so polite in a long time. Malik did not move, neither did Altair. After a silence that threatened to go on almost too long Altair finally said, "May I have it?"

Malik blinked and blindly reached behind him to grab a plate off the shelf. "Here," he said holding it out. Altair took the plate and then left without another word. Malik furrowed his brow, following Altair leave with his eyes and heard the soft scuff of boots on the wall as he pulled himself up and out of the bureau. His lips became a thin line and he looked down at his map only to practically scream a curse when he saw that there was a huge ink blot on it. He couldn't even blame Altair for it either. Which really was the worst part.

Grumbling to himself Malik trashed the map, there was nothing he could do, and pulled out something else to do since he couldn't even begin to even look at Aleppo right now. Frowning he tugged out some smaller papers and some red ink for invitations he'd been commissioned to make for a party of some sort. They were mindless, unlike map making, and he could quickly push out the entire batch without much thought.

He looked up from his work perhaps and hour later, this time putting his pen out of harms way, to the sound of boots on the roof. He frowned. Obviously it was Altair, but the man didn't come down. Malik tried to ignore it and took up his pen again to finish the lettering on the last few invitations before he went on to the decorations.

Then he heard Altair talking, he couldn't make out what Altair was saying, but he could hear his voice. He tried not to think about it and focused on his work, but Altair's voice kept distracting him. Perhaps it was because even at a distance Malik could hear he sounded… affectionate. For some reason that made him irritant. Also his voice was bothering him. Malik liked to know things, and to be unable to hear someone when they were so close was annoying, much like the man talking.

He put his pen away and set aside his invitations before leaving from behind the counter and entered the garden. Here he could hear the sound of the fountain and the wind overhead, blowing over the top of the lattice. But over them he could hear Altair better. "No, stop that. Shit, look what you did. Don't look at me like that you're the one who knocked it over."

"Altair!" he called up and the sound of the other man's voice stopped abruptly. "Altair I know you're up there, who are you talking to?" he yelled, hand on his hip in annoyance.

His eyebrows rose irritably as Altair stuck his head, and only his head, into view. "No one," he said in a cool, measured, infuriatingly flat, tone. He had the look of someone who'd been caught red handed though. Or Altair caught red handed at least and only because Malik knew him did he detect the slight change in the lines around his mouth that belayed guilt since he couldn't see Altair's eyes.

"Then were you talking to yourself, novice?" he demanded.

"It isn't a matter to you Malik," Altair frowned now.

"You're on my roof, jabbering away, distracting me from my work, since you obviously aren't doing yours. Oh, and you have my plate, so yes, I'd say it does matter to me quite a bit," he huffed. Altair vanished from the hole in the lattice. "Altair!" he yelled, "Come back here this instant!"

Altair reappeared as before, like he was on his stomach and only showing his head. "Here," and he held his arm out over the hole, Malik's plate dangling from his fingers.

Just before he dropped it Malik darted under it, since he had no illusions that Altair would indeed drop it. He caught it and turned it over to ensure there was nothing wrong with it before almost dropping it at finding a white substance on it. Disgust flashed through Malik that Altair would be so disrespectful before he realized an instant later that it wasn't the proper consistency and in fact… it was milk? He turned his head up questioningly but Altair was gone again. He didn't hear Altair again so grumbling Malik went back into the bureau, putting the plate in the back to wash it later and moved up to the front again.

He worked for a bit but kept getting distracted, thinking he heard Altair on the roof. It however was just the wind. Finally he put away his work and gathered up some coin, he was running low on brown ink and gold leaf, both things he'd need to complete these invitations as well as another order he had to finish. Once he'd put his things in order he closed the lattice, and left out through the front door, locking that up after him and went off to the market nearby to get what he needed. Maybe he'd pick up some cream for his evening tea while he was out. He also needed more herbs and some cream for wounds he got from an apothecary. This was turning into quite a list and as he left Malik muttered to himself that he was going to petition Al Mualim for a rafiq to help him, at least someone to run his errands and have an extra arm to carry supplies.

—

Malik returned to his shop triumphant as the sun was nearing the horizon. Not quite sunset though. He had everything he'd wanted to buy and a nice woman had given him a basket to hold all his shopping. It was a great idea actually, Malik didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Possibly because he was too stubborn to think he needed something aside his own hand. He set his basket down and unlocked his door, shoving it open with his hip as he scooped the basket up and went inside.

As he put his basket on the table he looked out to the garden. "Altair!" he suddenly yelled angrily at seeing the man asleep on a collection of pillows in the other room. The Assassin jerked awake and sitting, his hood falling off his head, hidden blade unsheathing as he stared around wildly looking for the enemy. Only to find none. Malik stomped over to the man on the pillows. "What do you think you're doing?" he accused.

Altair blinked up at him, without his hood Malik could see he was disorientated and confused, not surprising as Malik had just startled him awake and he knew how Altair was when he first woke. He was honestly surprised he got an answer out of the other man. "Sleeping?" he said, still slightly out of it.

"How did you get in here? I closed the lattice," Malik scolded as Altair wiped his eyes.

"It wasn't locked. I wouldn't think you'd mind," Altair's voice was small, humble, and weak, as if waiting to be disciplined. Malik only knew it was because he had just woken, he was always softer when he first woke. "I'm sorry I did so without asking," Malik snorted, unimpressed and Altair felt around for something in the pillows, not a weapon, as he'd left them in a neat pile at his feet, but something else.

"The lattice means I'm not in. It means go. Away," Malik said sternly.

Altair frowned, shuffled in the pillows a moment longer before turning amber eyes back up at him, "I will remember that and take my rest in a garden box next time," he still had a confused look on his face. As if he'd lost something.

Malik looked back down at him and rose an eyebrow. "Lose something Altair?"

"No," Altair said and got to his feet, dusting something invisible off his robes.

"Mmm," Malik agreed and went back into the bureau. He picked items up out of his basket and put them away. As he was putting his gold leaf away in a special drawer for his more pricy items he heard Altair moving around the garden, shifting things around. "Don't mess up my garden, novice," Malik snapped from behind his desk.

"I'm not doing nothing wrong," Altair called back. The fact that he'd even answered meant he was up to something. Frowning Malik stalked over to the doorway in time to catch Altair quickly straiten up from where he was sitting as if he'd just sat down in a hurry.

"What are you hiding?" Malik asked slowly watching Altair's face for subtle clues. He still had not pulled his hood up and was easier to read that way. Of course Altair wasn't easy to read in general, he'd mastered the art of being blank. But Malik knew him, and knew subtle cues, not enough to see through him, but enough to have greater insight into what he was thinking.

"Nothing," Altair said and blinked. A lie.

"Yes you are," Malik said and slowly walked towards him. "Tell me."

"It isn't anything? God is it so much that I was rearranging my things before going back to sleep?"

Malik looked up at the sky between the lattice, it was still blue, but starting to deepen into indigo and purple, the sun set quickly during autumn. "It's not even sunset."

"I have somewhere to be tonight, I need my rest," Altair said shortly; anxious.

"Where? Why?"

"It's for my mission."

"What then? Tell me. You are required to inform me of your plans," Malik said with a little smug smirk. Altair's eyes turned darker and his jaw became tight.

"An informant wanted to speak to me. They said they had information about someone who will tell me how I may get close to Majd Addin, he's… skittish and agreed to meet me tonight. It's on the other side of the city," he huffed.

Malik regarded him for a moment, Altair was telling the truth. Then Altair shifted, a subtle thing more akin to muscle contraction. "And what are you hiding?" Malik continued.

"Nothing," Altair growled, eyes flashing. That was as good as telling Malik it was something, possibly an embarrassing something. Now Malik really wanted to know.

He sighed in exasperation, "Just tell me Altair."

"It isn't anything—!" he started when Malik sat down across from him on the rug, his side to the collection of pillows. "W-what are you do-doing?" Altair asked looking worried now. Malik knew he had him now, Altair only stuttered when he knew he was in trouble, as a child Altair had had a stutter, he'd grown out of it, but sometimes he came out.

Malik leaned forward a bit, "You're being difficult Altair," he said patiently.

"Yo-you're the o-o-o—" he paused, and took a moment to make himself stop as he struggled out the word. God he was really worked up about this. "You're accusing me of nothing," he'd just dropped the problematic word. For some reason that made Malik grin, that Altair was so beaten by his own words was entertaining though he knew he shouldn't take comfort in his disability. But it was always nice to see someone so high and mighty as Altair be bad at something, even if it was just talking. Malik just gave Altair a look as if to say he was just digging a deeper hole, and Altair bristled. Then in a huff Altair flopped down on the pillows and turned away from Malik, refusing to even look at him.

"And here I thought you were a grown man Altair," Malik sighed in the process of getting to his feet, "It seems you're more a novice than just in name," he teased.

Altair peered at him over his shoulder, eyes flicking up to his face before down and staring at something behind Malik with wide eyes. Malik's eyebrows furrowed and once he'd stood back up at his proper height he turned around to look. There was nothing there but the fountain. When he looked back at Altair he saw Altair was resettling, though was now sitting.

"You're acting very strange Altair," Malik informed him.

Altair furrowed his brows at him, "Or maybe you're just seeing what you want to see Malik," he frowned deeply, annoyed.

"Well you did break into my bureau-

"It was unlocked," Altair reminded him.

"And you borrowed and almost broke my dish ware-

"I knew you would catch it."

"AND you were on my roof talking to yourself. You are acting very strange," and he gave Altair a critical look. "On top of it you're distracting me from my work."

Altair scowled at him, "Fine," Altair said in a level, hard voice, "I'll find someplace else to rest," and he stood to get his weapons. There was a soft thumb from behind him and Altair froze, not just stilling, but a total body freeze where he didn't even seem to breathe and he paled.

Malik looked down and around Altair's legs and blinked in surprise, his brows going up. There, having landed on the pillows, was a kitten. A patchwork of brown, orange and white it was a gangly thing that was so skinny Malik could almost see it's ribs and was all limbs and paws with huge yellow eyes and a pink mouth that opened in a defiant 'mew!' Malik blinked at it, then at Altair who was still frozen in place, a slight look of dread on his face, as well as guilt.

"This is what you've been hiding?" he asked and then it made sense. The milk on the plate, talking to 'no one' (since a cat wasn't a person), that made sense. But the hiding. Malik didn't get that.

Malik's voice seemed to jerk Altair into motion and he turned and scooped the kitten up, holding it to his chest. It was perhaps the most perplexing image ever. Altair, cold blooded Assassin… and a kitten that was barely the size of both his hands. "Yes," Altair said and Malik watched as the kitten licked Altair's fingers.

"Where in the world did you get a kitten?" Altair flinched a little at his tone and Malik realized he might have been a little harsh.

"It followed me," Altair said defensively.

"Since when?"

Altair's gaze dropped, "A few days," Malik knew that tone, it was the one he used, before he'd gotten such a big head, when he stood before Al Mualim for punishment. Such respect should have made Malik feel good; I didn't.

"Altair, brother," Altair glanced up at him, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Altair licked his lips, "I thought you would tell me to get rid of her," he said softly and once again couldn't meet Malik's eyes, instead dropping them down to the kitten who was wriggling a little in his hands, but he kept a grip on it— her.

Malik scoffed, "Why would I do that?"

"The Master would have," and for some reason Malik had a feeling that was a story he didn't want to hear and had a lot of baggage that Altair didn't want to share either.

"Well, I'm not," Malik said just as she started to mew noisily. "Is she hungry?" Malik asked and Altair's eyes flew up to his in surprise. He just nodded, "Come, I bought cream for my tea while I was out, she can have some," and he beckoned Altair with his hand before going into the bureau. Altair followed behind him and Malik went behind the desk and pulled out another plate and filled it with cream before setting it on the table.

He was surprised when instead of Altair putting the kitten on the desk he took himself and the dish to the floor. Malik watched a bit of fascination as Altair set the kitten down on the floor before the cream, making a gentle noise Malik had never heard, hadn't even known Altair was capable of, at it. The kitten mewed and tottled a few steps to the plate of cream before lapping it up, almost falling face first into the dish. Altair smiled.

Malik was so taken aback he actually didn't know what to make of it. Altair didn't smile, he just didn't, or if he did you didn't want to see it, because it was usually in the middle of a blood bath. But this was a smile, a nice smile, that changed Altair's entire visage. It made him look young and attractive as he probably was, but was surprising was that suddenly Altair looked… human. Not godly like he pretended, not stoic like so many assumed, not even arrogant like Malik knew he could be.

"Does she have a name?" Malik found himself asking. Altair looked up and Malik was sorry to see the smile go away, to return to flatness, safe behind a neutral expression.

"No."

"Don't know any girl names Altair?" he teased.

"No," his brow burrowed in irritation, "I just haven't found one that suits her," and he ran his big hand along the kitten's spine and other than a rise in the rump it ignored him and continued to lap at the milk.

"Earlier," Malik started, "on the roof, you were up there with her," it wasn't really a question.

"Yes," Altair answered anyway.

"What were you doing?"

Altair didn't respond right away, "Feeding her," he said. As he said that the kitten raised her head and turned around to Altair with a mew. Altair smiled briefly and wiped a bit of cream off the front of her mouth before he picked her up and put her into his lap. Malik could hear her purring from the other side of the desk. A strange feeling welled up from the pit of his stomach, though Malik couldn't put a name to it.

"You sounded like you were scolding her," he added blandly.

Altair looked up at him, amber eyes trying to be blank, but were warm and made Malik's insides turn over. "She knocked the bottle of milk over," he said and looked so serious about I that Malik couldn't help it; he laughed. It had been a long time since he'd laughed, especially about something Altair would say.

"I will be honest Altair, I never expected you to be one to take care of small, helpless, animals," he said, smiling.

"It is nice to take care of something for once," Altair said and ran his fingers along the kitten's head, just behind her ears. It's eyes were closed blissfully and it purred like it was no where happier than in Altair's lap. "Especially when there is so much death," he spoke lower, but Malik managed to catch it.

He pretended to not have heard, "How have you been handling this along with your mission?"

"I put her in a box with water so she won't follow me," Altair said, though sounded like he hated doing it. "It's easier when she isn't underfoot," and she lifted her head a bit and Altair scratched her under the head.

"You could have brought her here," Malik said. Altair looked at him as if the idea had never really occurred to him. "Don't tell me you didn't even think of that."

Altair made a slight face, "Why would I have any reason to think otherwise?" he asked. Malik opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it, realizing Altair was right. Malik had never given any indication that Altair was welcome in his bureau at all, of course he would have thought he couldn't bring his kitten (God that was a strange phrase 'his kitten') here and she'd be safe.

"Well she can stay here so you don't have to worry about her," Malik's mouth was saying before he even realized he was actually saying it. Once it was out he couldn't take it back, not that he would. Some part of him related it to the fact that if she was here Altair might not worry (since he worried enough to leave her with water somewhere she couldn't get hurt), but another, larger, part told him that if she was here Altair would come back and Malik would get to see him be human again, lips curled into a smile that didn't come from blood. For some reason the thought made him warm.

"Really?" Altair seemed shocked, surprised, and pleased, all at once.

"Yes," Malik nodded in a way as if he didn't care, let alone mind. "I like cats, and she's small enough not to get in the way."

"Thank you," Altair said and bowed his head. Then he lifted his head and looked out to the garden and cursed. "I have to go," he said and Malik looked as well. It was dark outside, but Malik always kept a few lamps burning, so they hadn't noticed. "You'll look after Sawsan for me?" he asked and it took Malik a second to realize it was the kitten's name.

"Yes, of course," Malik almost stammered.

"Thank you," Altair said again, he'd never heard Altair give more thanks than this evening, it was strange and couldn't put his finger down on what hearing Altair being grateful to him actually meant. He stood up, reaching down to give the brown and orange kitten, Sawsan now, a final stroke and silently left the bureau. He heard Altair equip himself quickly and scurry up the wall and out of the garden.

His eyes were drawn back to the kitten, who realizing Altair had left, attempted to waddle after him. She mewed as she entered the garden and Malik watched her sit on the rug and look up at the hole in the lattice. A few seconds later she began to cry, mewing pathetically. Malik went out from behind the desk. "Hey now," he scooped the kitten up and she squirmed in his arm, mewing. "Oh you poor animal, you think Altair is your mother," Malik frowned. Poor creature, to confuse Altair with a mother. "It's okay Sawsan, he'll be back," and he pet her to try and make her calm down, she just kept crying however. Malik frowned a little and padded back into the bureau, picked up the plate of cream and set her in front of it. Sawsan looked at the cream, then at Malik with her big yellow eyes and then gave a little, squeaky, meow at him. "Eat," he ordered, as if it would obey.

Instead, just like the man who took care of her, Sawsan turned around, away from the dish, took a few steps and then promptly lay down and stared at Malik. "Stop looking at me like Altair," he scolded, because she was. Well, looking at him as Altair had earlier, big eyes slightly lost and mildly afraid. A little part of him melted at those big yellow eyes of hers, and not because of Altair, and he pet her gently. She didn't purr, but she accepted his petting. Malik then put away the rest of his groceries.