For Blissful Catatonia.

Hope you feel better soon.

Your friend, DanAlaya

Disclaimer: I dont own Assassins Creed. Ubisoft does. I dont own Tahir, Nijma or any of the events from Crescent and the Cross referenced in this story. Blissful Catatonia does.

The door burst open into the small chamber, flooding the gloomy space with light and fresh air. Altair winced at the sudden intrusion, his focus moving away from the apple in his hand, a quill poised over the parchment. Malik came storming in, carrying a small whimpering bundle in his only arm.

"It is bad enough that the grandmaster locks himself away for days, leaving me to run the order, but I refuse to be a wet nurse to your son." He said, placing the child down on the desk, right on top of the parchment, trying to make clear his displeasure over the current situation.

"Why don't you take Darim to his mother. And Malik, you know how important the artefact is. The great advances it has meant for us. The order is perfectly safe in your capable hands for a few days. I just need a little while longer." Altair said, trying to dismiss the man and get back to studying the apple.

Malik stood still for a second, and unreadable expression flashing across his face.

"Altair, Maria left Masyaf two days ago." Malik said bluntly. Altair started to his feet violently, shocked at the news.

"What! I did not know this. Why, why did she leave?" Altair let his voice drop, clear menace heard behind his words.

"She told me that she had some urgent business. She came to speak to you a few days ago, and then went storming around the fortress preparing for her trip. Whatever you said to her put her in a foul mood Altair. She even left wearing her old Templar uniform." Malik retorted. He secretly knew the reasons for Maria's behaviour. But it wasn't his place to spell it out to Altair. Maria had made it very clear to him that she didn't want him involving himself with her business, even if she was taking care of other business at the same time. She was going to deal with Altair in her own way. Malik knew he had to give the grandmaster a bit of a push if she were to be successful in all her schemes.

"Maria never came to speak with me Malik. I would have..." Altair trailed off, frowning as a sudden tiny fragment of a memory flitted through his head. She had come to him one night. He was still working when she had slipped into this very room. But he didn't remember speaking to her, or even when she left.

Bending over, he picked up his son, noticing with irritation that the child had smudged all the ink on the page he had been writing. The amused quirk of Malik's lips told him that that had been the purpose of depositing the child in that spot. Darim contentedly squirmed in his arms, settling himself closer into his father's chest, a little hand gripping his robes as he fell asleep.

"Where did she go Malik? And why was she in her old uniform?" Altair said softly, not wishing to disturb the peace of his son.

Malik shrugged, tugging open the door. "I do not know Altair. I have received reports that she was heading south at a fast pace. I have notified the bureau leaders to send word as soon as she steps into a city. But after two days, I think we can safely rule out Homs and Damascus."

"Hmmm. So, more than likely she would be heading for either Jerusalem or Acre." The thoughtful tone of Altair pleased Malik. He sounded focused, and not on the damn apple for once. He watched the retreating form of Altair as he made his way to his chambers deep in thought.

The letter that Altair found when he reached the rooms he shared with Maria and Darim had his blood boiling in rage, and running cold with dread.

She had left him.
Said she refused to idly stand by while he played with his mistress.
Ashamed to be married to a man who ignored his own son and his duties to the brotherhood.

He was more than insulted at her words and deeds. To have left without so much as a word. To abandon her own son. And accuse him of adultery.

Without fully realising it, he found himself packing his saddle bags. How dare she acuse him of such things, and then just run away. He was going to hunt her down. Nothing was going to stop him, and there would be no place she could find to hide from him.

Throwing open the door to the rooms, he called for a novice.

"Ready my horse. And get Malik to meet me at the stables immediately" He ordered.

Returning to the rooms he took a moment just to stand and look. Evidence of Maria's presence was everywhere. From the two china tea cups that sat on one of the shelves to the bath that rested empty near the fire. Tapestries which she had hung on the wall, and the persian rugs she had furnished the floors with. Things he would never have himself, but possessions she had brought into their life. He could still make out her scent, and he suddenly felt the loneliness. Struggling to recall the last time he had spoken to her. Kissed her. Made love to her. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realising he had not shaved in days, his beard having grown long. She always hated it when he grew a beard. For a moment he contemplated shaving right then, but realised she had a two day head start, why waste the time.

Walking into the bedroom to retrieve a travelling cloak, he saw his old master assassin robes had been laid out on the bed, right where he would sleep. It was clean, repaired and neat. His throwing knives, syrian saber and short sword we all neatly laid out at the foot of the bed. Altair paused, wondering why Maria would have done such a thing. Whatever the reason, he knew he would be travelling fast and hard for several days. The light colour and tailored cut of his old robes would be better suited to the hunt. Wasting not a moment, he changed into his old robes, relishing the feel of strapping his weapons to his body. It only served to fuel his desire to find his errant wife.

Grabbing his saddle bag, he scooped a sleeping Darim up and silently stalked out of Masyaf. He knew Malik was not going to be happy about his leaving. The walk down the mountain side and through the village left him with plenty of time to think of a rousing argument. But as the stables came into view, he was left with nothing.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" Malik stormed up to him.

"Leaving." Came Altairs terse reply as he shouldered past his friend, throwing the saddle bag over his mounts back.

"So, it is not enough that you neglect your duties to the brotherhood, but now you are actually leaving." Malik growled at Altair, fuming at his actions. Rounding on his brother, Altair grabbed a fistful of Maliks robes, and pulled him close, minding that he did not jostle Darim.

"She accused me of adultery and left. I want to know why she would believe such a lie. I am going to find her, and bring her back, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. In fact, you are going to help. I will stop at every bureau between here and Jerusalem, and I expect to have a pigeon message already there telling me whether or not Maria has been sighted and where. I also expect you to take care of the order until I return. And lastly, I expect you to take care of Darim." Altair spoke in a calm, level voice that belied the current of strong emotions running just below the calm facade. Gently thrusting Darim into Malik's arm, he quickly stepped away, and jumped on his horse, the stable boy darting away as the feisty stallion pranced under his rider.

"And Malik. If one hair on his head is harmed, you will answer to both myself and Maria. Don't forget, she is a very exacting woman." And with the warning hanging in the air, Altair spurred his horse on into the darkness.

The travelling calmed Altair. He found himself centered. The methodical way the horse ate up the miles. The simplicity of setting up camp and trading for food. The normalcy of checking in with each bureau. Four days into the trip, he received word that Maria had been spotted in Acre. The news spurred him on, and he rode non-stop to Acre, arriving a day later. Leaving his tired horse in the care of the cities stables, Altair blended in with a group of scholars entering the city. The guards seemed lax, but it wouldnt call to bring undue attention to himself by trying to enter the city any other way.

It felt good to walk the streets of a city again. Although he wished Maria had chosen to visit Jerusalem or Damascus rather than Acre. The pitiful beggars, and austere architecture of the christians made the place grey and depressing. It was a broken city, stinking and falling apart.

Altair slowly made his way to the bureau, making his way through the citizens of the city. Listening in on their conversations. Hearing their worries, their plans, their causes for celebration. He had missed this. It reminded him of simpler times, when all he had to worry about was sparring sessions and finding out where targets were going to be. He remembered how he had looked down on being made a novice again. He had never appreciated the fulfilling type of work it was until it was too late. Reaching the bureau and climbing the ladder he pondered when his life had become so complicated.

"Safety and peace." He greeted the Rafiq.

"And upon you grandmaster. I hope your journey went well. I had received word that you would be arriving tomorrow." Jabal returned the greeting.

"I wished to make all haste." Altair cut the Rafiq off, wishing to get onto more pressing matters. "Now, please tell me. What do you know about the movements of Maria?"

Jabal nodded, opening up a large ledger on his desk. He had careful notes on the english woman, stemming right from the days she was Robert de Sable seneschal. It charted her progression from a puppet to the Templars, ignorant of their designs, to a fully enlightened advocater and fighter of peace. That was until she arrived, brazenly wearing the Templar colours. Malik had sent a bird to warn him of her arrival, but had not mentioned anything more. That woman was trouble. He had known it all along. And a disgrace to her sex. Not that he wished to give voice to his opinions. The grandmaster looked as he were spoiling for trouble, so he kept to the bare facts. "She has been sighted in both the middle and rich districts. But we have tracked her back to where she is residing. She continues to wear the uniform of the templars, but she appears to avoid soldiers. The assassin who watches the citadel has not seen her approach it, but it is not the only way to communicate with those dogs. As for where you can find her. The 5th rank assassin Rashid overheard that she will be at the harbour tomorrow at midday." Jabal finished, raising his head from the book. He made no other comment or movement, but Altair noted the white feather laying on the page, but resolutely ignored it. He knew Jabal had never approved of Maria, but the feather was a step too close to the mark. As of yet, Maria had done nothing deserving of death.

"Very well." Altair could think of nothing else to say. He felt frustrated at the lack of information. He did not want to wait until tomorrow. He needed to find her now. Turning, he swiftly left the stuffy atmosphere of the bureau. The sun was already setting, casting long shadows. Impatient to find Maria, he took to the roof tops. Aimlessly running over buildings. Trying to catch a glimpse of her. The moon rose to its highest point before he admitted defeat. Where ever she was, he was not going to find her tonight.

The return to the bureau was painful. He knew what the assassins there would be thinking. How fit was he to be grandmaster of the assassins when he could not even keep track of his own wife. He, that had fallen in love with a British woman no less, a woman who shunned what was natural for her, instead taking up arms and dressing as a man. A woman who worked for the Templars. Many of his brothers had been very unhappy when he took her as his wife. Before that, there had been those who were vocal in their distrust, Abbas being the most vocal. Even the healers had objected to her presence when Tahir brought her back from Homs, injured and unconscious. But he knew her better. At least, he thought he had known her better.

The bureau was quiet and dark when he dropped in. He was grateful for this. Silently, he moved past the sleeping form of an assassin curled up on the pillows, and made his way into the main office. The only illumination came from a small night candle burning slowly on the desk. It illuminated a small cloth covered plate, and his stomach growled at the thought of food. Quietly he attacked the plate of dried meat and bread. He saved the fresh figs till last, wondering whether or not the Rafiq knew they were his favourite or it was just coincidence.
He remembered Maria often buying them for him. A smile came to his lips when he remembered the picnic she had once prepared. Dragging him out to the gardens and pulling out a meal very much like this one. He hasn't cared that she couldn't cook. Or had thought it more appropriate to bring more weaponry than eating utensils to a picnic. It made him want her even more. And after they had satisfied their hunger for food, they had satisfied their hunger for each other.

He wished he could go back to that moment. Hold onto her forever.

Altair returned to the outer room, and dropped himself onto a cushion, his back resting against a wall. The pigeons made soft noises in their coop, lulling Altair into slumber. He dreamt of Maria. She was so close, but he couldn't see her properly. Just an outline of a shadow. He could catch her scent on the breeze as he chased her over the roof tops. But never could he catch her. Slowly, the dream faded to black.

Maria crouched down looking at him. She gently ran a finger along his jaw, secretly pleased that he had shaved off that terrible long beard he had worn before she left Masyaf. It was risky being so close, and she was careful not to wake him. But they had been apart too long. She had keenly missed his presence. It fueled her anger against him. But in this quiet moment, all she secretly wished was that he would awake and hold her.

She felt the presence of the Rafiq behind her, and motioned for quiet as she quickly rose to her feet. Leading him back into the depths of the bureau, she lowered her voice so as not to wake her sleeping husband.

"Do you have the letter?" She kept her voice low, so as not to wake her sleeping husband. Jabal nodded passing it over to her.
"How do you intend on getting it into the orders before Richard gives it to the courier tomorrow? Surely you are not going to infiltrate the fortress this early in the morning. It will take too long"

Maria shook her head. "I have no need. I only need to pass the letter to the courier before he boards the vessel at noon. My old uniform, and the seal on the letter will ensure he takes it without question." She ran her fingers over the wax seal, smugly smiling to herself. It was her forethought and ingenuity which had gotten them this far. Her old Templar uniform and seals were coming in useful.

"What about the Grandmaster? He knows you will be there, he will be at the docks waiting for you."

"Did he take the feather?" She asked. Jabal shook his head. He had wondered why Maria had asked him to prepare a white feather in her file, but had not questioned her judgement. If she wished to sign her own death warrant, then so be it. But Altair had not taken the feather. "Then I can only assume he will not slaughter me in cold blood. If he does attack, I am sure he will be focused on me, and not the courier. In fact, it will make the whole thing more believable for the courier. An assassin attacking a Templar who has just given over a very important letter. He will be on that ship faster than lightning. I on the other hand can take care of Altair." She shot Jabal a wicked smile. He had heard the gossip, and with his own eyes seen her spar with some men. He knew her words to be true, but hoped for her sake that Altair was no longer the cold blooded killer he was 6 years ago. That he could have restraint when confronting the mother of his child.

"Dawn is approaching. I do not wish to be here when he wakes." She took one last look at Altair. She loved him, she knew that. But he had wronged her and her brothers. She wouldn't sway from her chosen course of action.

"Safety and peace." The Rafiq bid her farewell as she slipped out of the bureau.

The harbour was alive with activity. The sun had risen to its zenith, and Altair watched the mass of humanity and commerce below him. Perched on a tower so he could take in as much of the scene as possible. It had the added benefit that the stench of the streets below didn't seem to reach this high.
He had carefully scouted the area. Tried to predict where she would go. He had a theory it had something to do with the packet ship which was due to leave midday, bound for England in the service of the crusades.
He would stop her. He could not believe that she had returned to the Templars. Not after all they had done to her. And especially after what she had seen them do. He would not believe she would go back to them. He concluded that she was running away, back to her homeland. The thought held little water, and he knew it. She never had any desire to return to that country, nor would she be welcomed back.

He lazily watched a courier stride down towards one of the docks. He seemed to be heading for the packet ship. Altair glanced up at the sun, well aware that with each second, noon was passing away. Impatient, he let his eyes glaze over, and his special vision changed his view of the world.

Suddenly, a flash of gold appeared in his vision. Running, weaving in and out of the ordinary people. He pushed the vision away, and tried to make out who the person was. A vice clenched his heart as he saw it to be Maria. It was if she were physically driving a blade through his chest. Dressed head to toe in her Templar uniform and weapons, she was not even carrying the short sword he had had made specially for her.
When he watched her catch up with the courier and pass him a sealed letter, a letter that had the markings of the Teutonic Templars clearly visible from this distance, anger and betrayal flooded through his body, one side of his face pulled up in a snarl.

It was her final act that made him lose control. She turned, and looked straight at him. Holding her chin defiantly, goading him. Even at that distance, he could see the confident smirk she wore as her eyes bored into his.

A coldness swept through Altair's veins. She had betrayed him, abandoned their son, foresaken the brotherhood, and now had the audacity to taunt him. He felt the hurt and anger morph into something more. Something uncontrollable. Something black and terrible.

He swan dived off the tower.
Nothing was going to save her now.