A/N- So… I decided there weren't enough AC fics. I decided to rectify that xD

Enjoy!

Malik was not impressed when the warning bells of the city went off. He glanced up irritably from his maps, resisting the urge to groan. The alarms meant that that infernal novice would be back again, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to deal with him at the moment. A week of the man sleeping in the bureau and reporting when he had new information was enough to drive a sane man to drinking, and Malik never really liked the idea of becoming dependent on that foul smelling alcohol.

Eventually, the bells faded off and the sounds of running feet became nonexistent. Blinking, the dai looked up when the minutes ticked by with no sign of Altaïr. He would never admit it to anyone, but a thrill of concern sent goose bumps down his back, arching his spine. Altaïr was always there before the search was completely called off. This… This wasn't right. This was unusual, and he just knew that something had happened.

All of a sudden, his eyes were drawn to the small cushioned area as a thump resounded from inside. A sense of relief washed over him. Of course Altaïr would be alright. He was too stubborn to die, or even be injured too seriously.

...But no one came through. Malik's heart leapt in his throat. Was it Altaïr? Was he injured? Or was it a guard trying to catch him unawares? There were no other novices in the city except for one, and he knew that the same would not be around as he had been there not even an hour later, and had needed to go to the far end of the city. It was one of the reasons Jerusalem irked the dai. If one of the men had not escaped unscathed in the other districts, it would be hard to get back to him in time before anything drastic happened. Of course, that was only one of the many reasons for his dislike of the city.

Carefully, instilling the assassin instincts he still held close to heart, Malik picked up a short sword from behind the counter. On silent feet he padded to the entrance of the retreat. There seemed to be no one immediately lurking in the doorway, of that he was relieved, but he was not fully satisfied. Adrenaline began to pump in his veins as he stepped the rest of the way in.

His gaze swept the retreat. And that was when he saw it.

In the farthest corner, a heap of material and pale skin was curled into a tight little ball, a soft gold glow emanating from behind a scrawny back. Malik gave a start. It came as a shock to see that it was a young child. Blinking in confusion, the dai came closer. The little body shifted a little, and then rolled over. Bright amber eyes peered up at him, frightened, brows lifting in alarm. It appeared the child had not accounted on being heard. Perhaps he had sought shelter or something to that effect, seeing as night was beginning to draw near, throwing them into shadows.

Hair so light brown it almost appeared blond was cropped close to the boy's skull, and he ran a nervous hand through it as he sat up. A streak of red told of a cut along his cheek. Malik, meanwhile, was dumbfounded. He couldn't move for a very long time, and when he did, he took very slow and deliberate steps forward. As surprised as he was, he didn't want to scare the child any more than he already was.

The dai knelt in front of the boy. He in turn scrambled away, back hitting the wall hard. "No, no," Malik hurriedly assured, setting down the short sword. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." If anything, those honeyed eyes widened more. It was as though that was not an answer he was expecting. But that was the answer Malik was giving. "Now, can you tell me if you are hurt any more than that?" he waved his hand at the cut on his cheek. Something flashed a brief moment of recognition in his mind, but the dai was unable to hold onto it before it was gone in a flash.

He scowled lightly at the flinch and shake of the boy's head. Immediately, his mind jumped to the thought of his partial limb. Was the boy frightened by that? It was highly likely. More often than not he'd heard rumors of himself drifting across the crowds and how he had been 'cursed by the devil and shunned by Allah'. The words hurt, but his pride made him too stubborn to admit to that. Huffing a breath out, Malik stood and retrieved a cloth. He wet it in one of the fountains and returned to the child. Ignoring the too-loose clothes he leaned forward and gently took the cloth over the cut. The boy gasped, but the dai didn't care in the slightest.

"You need that cleaned. Otherwise it won't heal even and will scar. And unless you want to look like an idiotic novice, then I'm sure you don't want that." He was surprised as the boy's eyes flared for a moment, and the gentle glow of the metal ball in his hands increased along with it. Malik frowned. Pulling away, he looked down at the trinket. "What's this?" he more demanded than asked, reaching for it. The child yanked his hands back, but then, after a moment's hesitation, the glow dimmed and he held out the sphere for the dai to inspect.

The moment Malik took the ball and the child let go of it, the golden light dimmed until it seemed like a simple trinket. His brow rose. Was it a trick toy?

Whether it was or not, he didn't particularly care at the moment. Setting it aside, he took a closer look at the boy. There was something off about his clothes. They looked as though they should be more of adult things, drowning his small frame. And the fabric… Malik reached forward. The child shrunk back but he only grabbed the hem of the cut cloth, rubbing it between his fingers. His eyes widened. Pulling it up, the boy disappearing behind it, he recognized it.

Altaïr's robes.

He felt anger and worry rise up in his chest, threatening to strangle him. "What are you doing with these?" he growled out. He seemed to swell and grow bigger, threatening, menacing. The child cowered under his gaze, shrinking in relativity to him. Fear flashed through earnest amber eyes.

"I… I-I… Malik… It's m-me. A-Altaïr…"

A/N- Please review!

~L~