So you know how I said I was sitting on Kabir for a few months? I've been sitting on most of this chapter for over a year, and only finished it recently. I'm SO excited you guys finally get to read it :D

that being said it does make me cry

With Malik gone that meant Altair was alone a lot. He was used to it but that didn't mean he didn't miss Malik. Despite that the first few days he realized the joys of Malik not being around. Like he could sleep with the door open and the cats could come and sleep with him as they pleased. That left him to wake up surrounded by them and he'd often stay in bed simply not to disturb the cats sleeping on or around him. At least until Kamal came in, knocking politely on his bedroom door announcing breakfast was ready and reminding he needed to get up to go do work. That was Malik's doing no doubt.

So he'd drag himself out of bed, get dressed and eat breakfast with his cats, feed Sawsan, and go downstairs. He'd have preferred to stay up in his room but he knew he couldn't. If nothing else his men needed to see him about, working. Those who disliked him also needed to see him working so they wouldn't think he was useless without Malik around.

Not that they were particularly wrong. Altair was only at the desk in the morning and took his lunch in his room and didn't do what Malik did where he met with complainers fixed things really. He didn't have the patience for it. Malik had given that duty to Munahid before he'd left so that all complaints went to him. Munahid had done it one day before demanding all complaints be submitted in writing which just pushed the work off to the clerks under him to write for the illiterate or just stopped some complaints as Assassins were too lazy to do so.

When he did work Altair did so quickly and with less hesitation than Malik. Unless the request was ridiculous Altair refused it outright. He knew Malik agonized over each large contract and usually talked himself out of it because politically it was a bad idea. Altair thought Malik's head for politics was terrible. He was too careful to not offend anyone. But then Altair also did more field work than him before all this. He'd gone to other countries, visited every city in the Holy Land, seen all manner of dignitaries and nobility and even just the very rich. They spoke of the Assassins with fear and respect but also with an understanding like one does any other soldier. Their blades, while sometimes commanded by ideology, were more often commanded by money. Money spent by their fellow nobles and royalty to delete a problem they had. They feared the Assassins for their abilities and respected them that they just did their jobs and that the death in the family was not usually for Assassin gain.

Unlike Malik, Altair did not throw out the contracts they wouldn't take because they were petty and not worth the manpower for a number of dinars they would receive and Kamal write up different messages than Malik would have to send back to contracts he found deplorable. One he sent to a wealthy merchant who wanted to wed the very young daughter of a competitor political reasons but the father would never allow it while he lived and the merchant wanted the father dead. The message Altair sent back was that if he tried to use the Assassins to further his filth again Altair would have him killed and if he did not offer a specific sum in apology his trade caravans to and from Damascus would find themselves harried by bandits. Another he had Kamal write was a father who wanted his daughter's dishonorable lover murdered for having a child out of wedlock. That one said that the price for such a task would be to send any child his daughter had to the Assassins or that he should accept his daughter's choice in men. Assassins would be sent to make sure the daughter, child or lover were not harmed by the upset father and failure to do so would cost him his dominant hand. There were at least a dozen messages like these sent out a day.

Altair didn't tolerate people trying to use the Assassins as a bully. It also, oddly, cooled his blood lust and distracted his mind from thoughts of what would happen if he went over to one of his guards and stabbed them. Kamal said Malik usually just threw out these contract requests before Altair even saw them and that made him angry. As Mentor he was powerful and it was his duty to not just keep his men busy but also protect those who couldn't. That was why the Assassins had been formed so very long ago, to help those who could not help themselves, not simply those who could afford it.

When Altair wasn't down at the desk he was with Jihad or alone in his room. He was more gentle with Jihad and the boy was happy again. It made Altair happy that Jihad was happy. When he was in his room Altair would go through the bookshelves in it. The books in them had never been touched when he'd moved in. They'd been left just as Azrael had left them. He'd found Azrael's journal in these bookshelves and he'd never really had a chance to take his time and dismantle them and pick through them to find if there were more.

When he'd first moved into these apartments he'd found the 1151 journal by the bed, like he'd been reading it recently. The journal itself opened easiest on the page with the woman's name on it like Azrael would leave it open page down creating a natural break in the spine. He'd read the journal with painstaking slowness the first time, hoping to find something in it. What he had no idea. Something. Anything to make the pain in his chest even a bit lighter than it was. It had taken him days to read the entire thing because of how slow he read and how he went back, again and again, to read parts over so he didn't miss anything. He swore he'd seen similar journals in the spare room at one point but later when he'd been able to look, when he could function enough to carry the burden of looking at the dead man's things, they'd been gone.

After that Malik had been around most of the time and he hadn't wanted to half take apart the books to be caught and questioned and told he was foolish and only hurting himself doing this. Altair knew that already. He knew that looking for Azrael's journals would only bring him pain but he also hoped they'd bring him some closure as well. That he could peek into the mind of the man who'd trained him and maybe know him in a way he hadn't before.

So the days after Malik left Altair took his time and took all the books in all the bookshelves in all the rooms off the shelves to look through them. Took him four days and he came to the conclusion that the journals weren't there. He checked Malik's rooms next, just in case. Malik's room had almost nothing in it but there was a small shelf with books on it. He took those down and looked through them too. They were also empty.

Altair resorted to just looking everywhere after that. Under the bed, inside drawers and boxes. Anywhere someone could hide a book. Altair ended up turning his entire apartment inside out wanting to find them but turned up nothing. At the end of his fit of madness to find them he sat in his room surrounded by a mess he'd made from overturning things and ransacking everything he could. He'd wanted to leave it like that because he was angry but he knew if Malik came home to the place a mess like this he'd be furious. Mainly to save himself the lecture Altair put everything back where it had been for the most part.

He was reading the single journal he had later after Kamal had come to get his food when he had a sort of epiphany. He skimmed the journal, picking out certain parts to study and a truth came to him slowly. At first, he rejected it because Azrael had fathered a child but it wasn't impossible was it? Azrael and Zaki had been very close. Altair knew that. They'd been friends just like most of Azrael's Dais had been but the more he read the more he realized that it wasn't just that. It was closer than that. It was a sort of secret time spent together like he and Malik had. Meaning Zaki was closer to Azrael than anyone else, and he knew Azrael kept these journals. Ergo Zaki probably knew where Azrael had hidden the rest of his journals.

Altair wanted to get up and leave at that thought immediately but it was late and Zaki was probably asleep. Instead, he paced in his room mulling over the entire thing and what he wanted to say to Zaki about it. The journal gave him other ideas as well but he dared not even think them so afraid they made him. He wound up asleep amid the rug and pillows under the window sill that night when he grew too tired to think or move. He'd confront Zaki about it tomorrow.

—

Kamal woke him with breakfast as usual. "Did you sleep out here, Master?" he asked when he saw Altair.

Altair yawned. "Yes? Goodness. What an uncomfortable floor. I must be getting old." He groaned and got to his feet to stretch.

"You seem young enough to me," Kamal said helpfully and laid out the food for the cats.

"Thank you, Kamal," he said and sat back down to have his breakfast.

"Should I come get you for work as well or will you make it down there on your own?" Kamal asked him.

Altair grimaced. Right. Confronting Zaki would have to wait until after he'd dealt with the contracts. "I will find the way myself."

"Very well," Kamal said. Altair had no illusions that if he didn't at least do this Malik would know of it because as much as Kamal loved Altair he was loyal to Malik in some things. He knew how important their desk work was too and wouldn't let Altair miss a day so Altair didn't resent the little snitch too much.

Altair ate his breakfast, pet the cats some and checked in on Sawsan. "So big you've gotten my little lily," he cooed to her and pet her stomach. She was very fat down and didn't like getting out of her birthing box unless Altair carried her. She purred when he pet her and when he kissed her on the head she licked his nose which made him smile. "I'm going to learn a secret today, Sawsan. Hopefully, it goes well, hmm?" Sawsan just meowed at him. With that, he got up and went to change his clothes.

Altair did his work diligently, making sure actual contracts were given hunters and contracts he found insulting were reprimanded. Eventually, he finished and then was reminded today he had to spend time with Jihad. For the first time he didn't want to train with Jihad. He just wanted to find Zaki but Jihad needed him. Without Altair Jihad was helpless and would never become less helpless. So he spent some time with Jihad after lunch and finally he could track the old man down.

It wasn't very hard at least and Altair found the old man up in the coops. Zaki was tending the birds, stroking one along the chest and cooing softly to it. It was missing several flight feathers and looked harrowed like it'd fought off a hawk. Altair came up behind Zaki, outside of the great walk-in cage, but said nothing and Zaki didn't know he was there. He just stood there, watching, to see what he'd do.

"Is there something you needed, Mentor?" Zaki asked, startling Altair. He was sure Zaki hadn't heard him approach. Zaki didn't turn and look at Altair either.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I am used to dangerous men sneaking up on me. It was a game friends and I used to play," he ended rather sadly. "They're all gone now," he added softly.

"Where are the rest of Azrael's journals?" Altair asked. He wasn't good at being subtle with words all the time. Struggling with them sometimes made him seem subtle or deflective with them but he didn't do it intentionally. He was always very direct unless he knew what he said would get him in trouble.

"Azrael's journals? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Zaki said and if he was surprised he didn't show it.

"Yes, you do. There were journals before the Dais arrived and I had not gotten to read them. Then you arrived and days later they were gone. Where are they?"

Zaki turned around and Altair saw no lie in him. "Which one did I miss?" It was as good as any confession that Zaki had taken them.

"Eleven fifty-one," Altair said.

Zaki's face was resigned. "Quite a one I missed. Where was it?"

"His bedroom."

"Sentimental old fool," Zaki sighed.

"Where are the rest?"

"Hidden," Zaki said and put the bird down gently and left the great cage to stand face to face with Altair. "From everyone. His reputation is tarnished enough. I didn't want his name dragged further through the mud."

"He was mad. He betrayed us-

"He loved the Order, Altair," Zaki said. "But his priorities were different than your own."

"Eve?" Altair asked.

"Yes," Zaki sighed.

There was a long silence. Neither of them moved. "You won't give me his journals?"

"I will not."

"Why not? Because I don't deserve to see them?"

"Because I don't think Azrael would have wanted you to see them."

"To hell with him. He's dead."

"Then what does it matter if you read them or not?"

"I need them. I need to see them."

"Why?"

Altair couldn't speak for a moment. "I killed him. I… I just want to know if he was as mad as I thought." It was slightly desperate. Altair just wanted to know he'd done the right thing and hadn't done instead what he dreaded. Hadn't done what the single journal hinted at and made it hard to sleep at night when he thought about it.

"I won't give them to you," Zaki said. "Doing so betrays him."

"He's dead Zaki, he can't command you anymore."

"No. But he was still my dear friend. He was your Mentor. I can't."

"Then answer me this-

"If I can-

"You will!" Altair snapped, furious at being denied. Furious that in front of old men he was still powerless and they thought so little of him, that he could be cowed or controlled. He hated it. "You will answer me or I will punish you." Zaki sighed like he'd seen Altair's temper tantrum before like he was used to or expected it out of men like him and it hurt him even more than being dismissed. "Eve, his daughter. He went back for her?"

"Yes," Zaki said.

"He brought her back to Masyaf?"

"Yes."

Altair's swallowed "Did she marry?"

"Against Azrael's wishes, yes."

"Who? An Assassin?"

"Do you enjoy the pain you are causing yourself, child?" Zaki asked, cocking his head at Altair.

"I am saving myself from the pain if I am wrong," Altair said, his chest clenching up in preparation for whatever was about to happen, as though trying to protect his heart. He somehow knew it'd do him little good. He was so worried about this and learning the truth one way or another.

"You put a knife to your heart, child."

"I have no heart. The Order carved it out and fed it to the eagles. Now tell me what I want to know and that I know you know because you were so close to him." Despite his, bravado Altair swallowed and felt nervous.

Zaki sighed and looked down. "Very well. Azrael told me I was to keep this a secret, to protect you, but if you are so callous with yourself I will tell you."

"Secrets protect no one. They just cause more pain."

"As this one will cause you, child." He didn't speak for a moment. "Eve married an Assassin named Umar and they had one child. A son they named Altair. You were Azrael's grandson."

Altair had been expecting and dreading that answer and yet he somehow wasn't ready for it. It was like an arrow to the heart and he suddenly couldn't breathe easily. He didn't cry but it was like his chest had been flayed open to expose what was left of his heart and someone had taken a scalpel to it.

"Why- why did he never tell me himself?" Altair asked softly, the heartbreak real.

"Because Azrael knew love was a noose. When he and I were young men the Order was much different. Emotional attachment was frowned upon-

"Liar," Altair said before he could stop himself.

Zaki ignored him. "No one was allowed to marry. Sometimes the concubines conceived and the order grew like that, generations of Assassins born from the legs of whores. We don't do that anymore. Azrael stopped that. Who knew if men bedded their sisters, their aunts or cousins or even mothers. But love was forbidden. It makes one weak. Makes what you love more important than the Order, than your brothers. Our Order did not tolerate that when we were young. Anyone we were close to was open as a direct line to our hearts, our morale. So it was forbidden and those caught were punished, severely, for going against the rules.

"The Order you grew up in is one Azrael made, with his daughter in mind. One where he would have to feel no shame for loving her. One where men could have what all men wanted, family, children. You young men do not understand the difference. How different the Order used to be before Azrael came and swept away the rot in the heart of us. You don't understand how much we loved him for giving this to us. Under him we didn't steal and kidnap boys from their homes to become Assassins, we did not demand ransom from the Threshing of girls to be concubines. The Order was better when he became Mentor, and he healed many atrocities."

Altair was still struggling to take it all in. Zaki wasn't wrong. All the Assassins active today had grown up under Azrael's rule. They knew no different. They all had fathers, mothers. The towns did not fear them and they did not Thresh girls to become concubines.

"He did all this, because of Eve?" Altair asked softly.

"Yes," Zaki said. "And your grandmother, Murjana. If the rules for us had not been in place he would have never left her in Aleppo. She wouldn't have died such a gruesome death. May Allah have mercy on her soul," Zaki bowed his head some.

"But why did he never tell me?" Altair asked. He had as many memories of Azrael smacking him as he did the old man teaching him. He could go from gentle and kind to a terrible tyrant in moments, his instructive voice become a vicious lash. He licked his lips self-consciously. Azrael had given him this scar and killed his Aaban.

"Because favoritism would have done you no good. Azrael made the Order so men would never have to go through what he had, but he was distant with Eve. No one knew she was his daughter. No one knew you were his grandson."

"Except you."

"Except me," Zaki admitted. "He always kept those important to him at arms reach, so they could not bring him pain. He had a surprisingly kind heart for what he was."

"Even you?"

"All his friends," Zaki said. "He sent us all away. Become Dai, he said, be my eyes and ears and hands across our great land. It was an honor."

Altair eyed him. "You're a good liar, Zaki," he said, "but it was not an honor for you."

Zaki only blinked but didn't let anything show. "It was."

"I imagine you didn't feel so at the time."

Zaki's smile was patronizing. "My best friend was sending me to an armpit of a city to babysit foolish men with more skill in swordplay than sense. No, I was far from pleased."

"Best friend?"

"Of course," Zaki said. "Just as Malik is yours," and he gave Altair a look. He knew. That made Altair sort of annoyed.

"Does everyone just know and we're fooling ourselves here?" Altair demanded. Zaki wasn't even around him and Malik that much.

Zaki chuckled. "No. But it is obvious when you know what you're looking at."

"Only you knew about Eve?"

"Yes."

"So none of the other Dais knew I was his grandson. Is that why you supported my rise to Mentorship?"

Zaki said nothing a moment. Altair waited. "You are much like him."

"I am nothing-

"When he was young," Zaki continued, "he was much like you. Idealistic, rash, hopeful for a better future. Living takes such things from men and turns even the most idealistic cynical. I knew you would be good for the Order, as he had been. Some of the others resented him for seeming to throw us away."

"Like Jawad?"

"Jawad always thought much too highly of himself and they did not always get along. Azrael was a rebel, and Jawad followed orders and rules to the letter. If he saw Azrael in you it was a bad thing. I'm sure you know when you came to take up the Mentorship our accounts were in disarray. Things were not marked or written down, there was nowhere Azrael left his plans. He let our accountants worry about running the Order and when we ran low on gold for food or clothes or anything he'd fill the coffers back up with blood money. Saar and Navid were left to run the guards and up till a few years ago Sabin took care of the novices and sent men out during the Threshing, Rauf did it when Sabin stepped down."

"This is why the Order fell apart," Altair said. "He did not care for it."

"And yet his tenure was the greatest reign of the Assassins since the Mentorship came to Syria," Zaki said. "It's only remained here through dumb luck that someone hasn't come and taken it from us. But we were failing. The Order grew, and prospered under Azrael."

"Then where did it go wrong?" Altair asked.

"I don't know," Zaki said. "I was in Acre and saw him once a year. Somewhere along the way he got lost, and never found his way again."

"Nothing in his journals?"

"He stopped writing them when your mother died," he said and Altair swallowed. "Perhaps that was where it began to go wrong."

Altair hesitated. He'd been young when his mother had died. Only five or so. His father had been inconsolable for months after her death and Altair had lived life like it was a dream. Or a nightmare. After Umar had finished grieving he wouldn't speak of it, wouldn't talk about her, wouldn't even say her name. Altair could barely remember the woman, and even her name had faded from his memory. The only memories he had of her were her hands, the smell of her hair, and the feeling of her headscarf in his hands. But they were faded and muted by time. Then his father had been killed only a few years later. If Azrael had started to go wrong when Eve had died then Altair had started to go when Umar had.

"How did she die?" Altair asked softly. No one had ever told him. One day his father had just told him his mother was dead.

"I heard it was a horse. She'd gone riding and something had spooked her horse. It threw her off and ended up stomping on her by accident."

"Did you know her?"

"Somewhat. I was in Acre most of the time she was here, but Azrael wrote me, so did she. Everything all right, Altair?" Zaki asked.

Altair felt like his entire world was falling apart. Everything he'd known was a lie. He hadn't just killed his father figure that day years ago, he'd killed his grandfather. His own flesh and blood. The man had been mad but Altair could remember how he'd felt when he'd finally taken the old man's life. There had been no thrill, no satisfaction like he did when he usually killed. Only sadness, only grief. Justice had been brought and it had brought him no joy. He was, truly, Son of None.

Malik wasn't here.

That thought alone nearly gave him vertigo. His entire life had just been changed and flipped upside down and Malik wasn't here. Never more in his life did he want Malik than at that moment. Not even to talk to, not even to confess to. Just to have him near, to be a piece of stability for him. But he was far away, in Jerusalem for Saladin's funeral.

"Son," Zaki grabbed his arm and Altair started, staring at him. "Are you alright?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know," Altair said, his eyes dilated and he had trouble focusing. His heart was racing and it was hard to breathe. Distantly his brain supplied that his symptoms sounded much like a panic attack.

"Shall I get someone? Do you want to sit down?" Altair nodded mutely but couldn't even get the words out. Zaki helped him sit and left him there, going down the stairs to the landing below.

Altair pulled his legs up to his chest.

Why hadn't Azrael ever told him? Why wouldn't Umar ever talk about his mother? Why would Azrael let Umar die when Altair had already lost his mother and Azrael his daughter? Hadn't they both lost enough then? And Umar's death had caused Abbas' father so much guilt he'd killed himself. Killed himself with Allah and Altair as his witness and then Altair had been alone. No friend, no family. No one. Only Azrael who was mentoring and strict at best and distant and cruel at worst. And the entire time Altair was growing up, being trained by the instructors, getting extra instruction and expectations from the Mentor, he knew Altair was his grandson.

His grandfather had turned him into a monster.

Altair knew there was something not right with him. No man should love to kill like he did. No man should love to fight like he did. But he took pleasure in both. He took pleasure in other things, but the death, the fighting, the killing. Allah, he loved doing it. It was the only time he ever felt like his body was right. He wasn't like any other man he'd ever met. He had no desire for women or the comforts they brought. He enjoyed things but they never felt like they fulfilled something in him the way a blade in his hand felt. They never made him feel alive. He struggled with seemingly simple things but could see larger pictures where others could not.

His grandfather had groomed him this way. Had groomed the worst things in Altair to be whatever he needed him to be. Some quiet part of him said maybe Azrael had done so so that nothing would happen to Altair. That he trained Altair into this monster, to the very breaking point, so that Altair would not die. So that the old man wouldn't lose the last of his family either. He hardly believed it. He wanted to but something else told him it was unlikely. Azrael wanted a loyal killer who was as skilled as he had been. What better than the seed of his own family?

He was surprised when someone came. He looked up into Kamal's eyes and Zaki stood behind him, face a mask of worry. "Altair, is everything all right?" Kamal asked, kneeling next to him. Altair couldn't talk. He just stared at Kamal feeling lost and very afraid. "Shit," Kamal muttered. Malik wasn't here. "Just-just a second," and then Kamal was gone and he heard him running away.

Zaki came over to him and stood against the other wall since his bone were too old to kneel or squat. "He loved you, you know," he said. Altair looked up at him, his eyes cast in shadows. "Azrael I mean. You probably won't believe that but I know he did and he was not a man who loved easily, Altair."

A hateful sound worked its way out of Altair's voice, "If he loved me he wouldn't have let my father die. If he loved me he wouldn't have hurt everyone and thing I cared for. If he loved me he would have told me."

Zaki had no come back for that, he just looked sad. "He didn't know how to tell anyone," he said softly.

"You mean he didn't tell you."

Zaki's smile was painful, "Especially not me."

Kamal came running back up the stairs gasping. Altair started when something was dropped on him. It was fat and furry and warm and looked up at him with golden eyes. Altair softened and finally felt like he could breathe. It was Sawsan. She meowed at him and sniffed at him. The rest of the world disappeared around him. All there was was Sawsan and she was a warm piece of stability amid this. He meowed back and she rubbed her face against his cheek and purred loudly. He held her close to him, burying his face in her fur and inhaling the comforting smell that reminded him of time spent lying in the sun under the window with Malik nearby. Altair would hold onto the edge of Malik's robe and Malik would read. Sometimes he'd put his book down to run his fingers through Altair's short hair or the back of his knuckles against his shaved face. Sawsan would be curled up in the curve of his neck, sleeping. She smelled like cool sunshine and where Altair felt at peace and safe.

His heart ached and he missed Malik so much his heart felt like it would shrivel up from the lack of him. Altair couldn't go to him, he had to stay here. Run the Order and act like a real Mentor.

Altair stayed like that, face pressed against Sawsan, for a while. He didn't care if he appeared stupid or childish. He'd just found out the truth about his family and he was honestly doing what he could to not cry in front of them.

"Let's leave him be, Kamal," Zaki said.

"You're sure?" Kamal asked.

"Yes. I think he just needs time," and Altair heard Zaki gently shepherding Kamal away.

"Kamal," Altair croaked before they could leave.

"Yes, Altair?" Kamal asked, voice stained with worry.

"Go down to the doves, send the guard named Kabir to my quarters. I will be along."

"O-of course!" Kamal said and then raced down the stairs.

"Altair," Zaki said, Altair didn't look at him. "Since you know, there isn't any point keeping secrets anymore. If you ever want to know more, I'm here."

"Get out of my sight," Altair bit out from between his teeth.

"Very well. Safety and peace, Al Mualim," and Altair almost threw a knife at him as he walked away.

Instead, he just held Sawsan tightly until she squeaked in protest and pawed at him. "Sorry," he whispered and stroked her head. "Sorry," he swallowed and pulled his face away to stare at the ceiling. He was alone now and his loneliness felt overwhelming. He looked towards the stairs and knew he should get up. He didn't have to be alone. There were people who cared about him. But Malik wasn't here. He looked at Sawsan. "How angry would he be if I went to Jerusalem?" he asked her softly. Her whiskers twitched. "Yeah, probably."

Altair practically crawled up the wall to stand, holding Sawsan against him. She had her paws on one shoulder as he walked. He swayed a little from sitting in such an uncomfortable position for so long but it passed. He walked down to his quarters and saw Ehan standing in front of the door, arms folded seriously.

"Master," he said when he saw Altair.

"Hello, Ehan," Altair said, his voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere else and not his body.

"Kamal told me to bar anyone from coming into your room. He already brought you dinner."

"How thoughtful of him."

"And you have a guest," Ehan said.

"Yes, I know. Thank you, Ehan."

Ehan looked at him. He had his head down so Ehan couldn't see his face. "Is everything alright, Master?"

"Yes. Now please, I'd like to go eat dinner," Altair said softly.

"Of course," Ehan opened the door for him. "I won't listen."

Altair stopped as he stepped through. "You're a good man, Ehan," he said. "I am blessed to have you."

"Of course, Master," Ehan closed the door once Altair was inside.

Kabir was sitting on the rug under the window dinner on a large tray in front of him. "Hello, Altair," he smiled at him.

Altair went over to the window, stopping only briefly to gently lower Sawsan into her birthing box. He went over to Kabir and knelt down in front of him. Kabir frowned when Altair said nothing. Then Altair just leaned over his knees and sobbed. Kabir did nothing for a moment, too surprised by what was suddenly in front of him to even move. Then he reached over and pushed Altair hood back. With one hand he held the back of Altair's neck and the other he rubbed Altair's back.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this. To deserve this life. Everything had been taken from him. His mother, his father, his childhood, any chance of friends, his virtue and now he learned he'd murdered his own grandfather. The sobs came thick and rough and Kabir said nothing. He was just a warm hand on his neck. A stabilizing force that made Altair feel a bit less alone and was about as much touch as he could stomach from most people.

His grandfather had turned him into this horrible man who didn't know how to deal with the world without someone to guide him. Zaki said Azrael had loved him but Altair wasn't sure. Sometimes Azrael was so nice and kind and Altair thought they were more than student and teacher. Other times he scared the hell out of Altair and hit him hard enough to see stars. There were times between that but those were the extremes. If that was what love was then no wonder he was so broken. No wonder he and Malik were so broken.

Altair cried harder thinking that.

Sometimes when he wasn't paying attention he'd look at Malik and that disgusting mask from Jerusalem would come across him and he'd be reminded why he never ever let anyone touch him like that. Not then, not now, not ever. How broken was he that he'd forgive Malik that transgression? How broken was he that he'd love Malik again?

And yet he did love Malik. For some sick reason he forgave Malik the same way he always forgave Azrael for the harsh punishments. For some reason he loved Malik and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to tell him that. Because Malik made him good, because Malik made him right. Like how Azrael made him good, and made him feel good. But Azrael didn't love Altair. Malik did. Right?

Right?

"What is this all about?" Kabir asked him gently, still rubbing his back after he'd let Altair cry for a long while.

"I killed him," Altair's breathes hitched and his voice cracked and broke under the weight of it all.

"Who? Who did you kill, Altair?"

"My grandfather," he whispered.

"Azrael?" Altair nodded mutely at that. Kabir said nothing a moment, "I see," he said. He said nothing more and just let Altair cry.

Kabir was the only person Altair cried in front of. He never cried in front of Azrael. Never cried in front of Malik. Even when Azrael had murdered his cat in front of him and cut up his face Altair hadn't cried. Kabir was the only one he knew who wouldn't judge him for the weakness. He'd cried in front of Kabir when he'd told him Azrael had 'killed' him, and after what Malik had done to him. He'd cried when he'd confessed to Kabir that he shamefully didn't like women, or men like Kabir did when he'd been a teenager, and felt broken and wrong and shameful for the lack of feelings.

Altair cried himself into silence and he just knelt over his knees breathing hard and trembling. "Come now, Altair," Kabir said nicely. "Your scribe brought us such a lovely dinner, it would be a shame to let it grow cold and go to waste."

Altair looked up at him, tears tracked down his cheeks. "I don't think I'm hungry."

"Nonsense. You'll feel better when you eat. Now sit up. There we go," he smiled when Altair complied. Altair felt light headed from all the crying and very stupid. "Come here," he beckoned slightly and Altair leaned over to him. Kabir wiped his face off with a rag. "All better," Kabir's smile was bright. "Now lets eat, how about that?"

"I guess-

"You will eat dinner, Altair," Kabir said in a firm tone.

"Okay," he said, defeated. He did appreciate the firm tone. He couldn't decide for himself. He didn't want to. He just wanted to be told what to do like he had been his entire life. Life had always been easier like that. He didn't have to think. He just had to do.

Kabir served them both and put a plate in Altair's lap after Altair got into a more comfortable sitting position and had taken off his boots. "Eat," Kabir told him. Altair did so mechanically. "Now. What happened?"

Altair took several more bites as he composed his thoughts which was more difficult than usual. "Zaki told me Azrael was my grandfather. He told me… many painful things to hear."

"Like what?" Altair told him, He told him about Azrael's journal and his suspicions before he confronted Zaki. He was able to remember Zaki's exact words and repeating them for Kabir to hear. "Fool," Kabir said. "That's what Zaki is."

"He is a wise-

"He is an old fool," Kabir said firmly. "He never should have told you."

"I wanted to know," Altair said but it sounded weak.

"Did you, really?"

"I… think so?"

"Eat, you'll feel better," Kabir said.

Altair ate in silence for a bit and Kabir did not let there be an oppressive air and was cheerful even as he ate. "Thank you," he said softly.

Kabir stopped and looked at him. "Do not thank me. It is no great thing I did. It is just what you deserve." Water pricked at Altair's eyes again. "I am surprised you called me. You never let me up here."

"I do not want your sisters to talk."

"Even though they're right?"

"I do not welcome unneeded rumors. And it isn't… like that."

"I know. You know. So what does it matter what people think?"

"Because it matters what people think," Altair sort of growled.

"I guess," Kabir shrugged. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to call on me. I would not want you to suffer in silence as you do. Would you have called me if Malik was here? Or would you have let him see you like this?" Altair looked away and that was enough of an answer. Kabir smiled. "Thank you, for trusting me."

"One of the few men I can," Altair said and rubbed at his eyes and nose uselessly.

"Well I am honored to be in that number. Do you feel better with some food in your stomach?"

"A bit," Altair admitted. He looked at Kabir and didn't feel as bad as he had. "Kabir," he said and then stopped.

"Hmm?"

"Is there… something wrong with me?" he asked and touched his chest, just next to his heart.

Kabir's eyes got big. "Wrong with you, Altair? Why would you say that?"

"Zaki told me Azrael loved me. But is that what love looks like, feels like? I don't know and now I am questioning everything I feel."

Kabir's eyes got hard. "You question your feelings for Malik and his for you?"

"And if I am becoming him. Do I treat Kamal like that? Do I treat Jihad like that?"

"Altair," Kabir got on his knees and shimmied over to him. Altair started when Kabir grabbed his face in both hands firmly. "Malik is in love with you and is bad at telling you, but trust me. When I asked him about you all he does is wax the most poetic love sick words I have heard from someone in a long time. Kamal adores you and looks up to you like a father. He knows you will do whatever it takes to keep him safe. I have not met Jihad but I'm sure he loves you too. You do not give yourself nearly enough credit my friend. You are not like Azrael. He did not know how to love and he did not want you to love either.

"Do you not see that is what he did to you? He killed your cat and took you away from all of your friends because he was afraid that you loved. Because he was an old man who lost everything and you were all he had left. He did not want to share you.

"There is nothing wrong with you Altair except that perhaps you love more deeply than you know you do." He smiled a little. "Frankly I'm a bit jealous of Malik, Kamal, and Jihad, because you do love them. Do not question how you feel. Your feelings are true."

"You don't say this just to make me feel better."

"I do not lie to you, Altair, like you don't to me. I save my kind lies for men who lie to themselves. Does that make sense?" Altair nodded and Kabir released his face gently.

"Is it wrong though, that I worry my relationship with Malik is sick? Azrael hurt me and I forgave him, and loved him and he betrayed me. I… haven't forgotten what Malik has done."

"Do you forgive him?"

"Most of the time," Altair said, looking away. "And then other times I can't even look at myself."

"But you love him?"

"Yes. And I miss him, so much."

"Even though he hurt you?"

"Yes. Is that wrong? Should I not forgive him?"

"Do you want to forgive him?"

"Yes."

"Then there is nothing wrong," Kabir touched his shoulder. "Men make mistakes. You did and were given a second chance. You don't think Malik sometimes looks at you and is reminded you cost him his arm, his brother, his rank, and his dignity?" Altair nodded a little. It crossed his mind more time than he liked to admit. "And yet still he forgives you, and loves you. You speak to one another and know how the other feels which is more than I can say for other men I help who will barely admit they are friends with the one they love. Your relationship is not sick, or wrong, or bad. You two have a lot of history and you overcome it and that's what a relationship is. Now, any other questions I need to set your straight on?"

"How are you so good, Kabir? Dealing with us idiots all the time?"

Kabir laughed. "Ah, I train in patience, meditate, and one of the instructors is a friend. He lets me beat up one of the punching dummies sometimes when I cannot stand how stupid you are all. Through no fault of your own. You were trained this way and I do not fault you for your lack of interpersonal relationships. A killer who loves can love something more than killing, and that does not make a good killer."

"You are very wise, Kabir. Thank you for coming and being with me."

Kabir's smile was warm, "Of course, my friend."

Altair hesitated. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to face the darkness of his dreams by himself tonight. "I— would you…" Kabir cocked his head to the side. "I do not want anything," he said to clarify in the beginning and Kabir just rose his brows in confusion. "But would you stay with me tonight?"

Kabir's face softened. "Of course," his tone was gentle and kind. "Whatever you need, Altair, I am here to help you."

"Thank you. I do not want to be alone right now."

Kabir smiled again, "You are never alone Altair. You have Kamal, and your guards, and Rauf, and all of your men."

"I still feel alone with them," Altair said softly.

"I will stay the night, and however many nights you wish me to stay," Kabir said.

"Don't tell Malik."

"I would never," Kabir promised. "I think he thinks you're in love with me in some way, or I'm in love with you."

"That's stupid."

"I know!" and when Kabir laughed Altair laughed a bit as well. "Lets finish dinner and then maybe you'd like to show me your grandfather's journal? Perhaps we can find where that man went?"

Altair nodded. "I'd like that," he said and Kabir's smile warmed him all the way through.

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