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Blades sang in the training yard as the two songbirds met and parted. Lex adjusted his stance as Amir wobbled and caught himself, finding his footing again in the sand. The Coal Tit let out a startled cheep as the Journeyman lunged again, flicking his sword toward him. Amir parried, but just barely. Lex came at him again, their blades locking for a moment until the older male drew back and smiled.

"Are you practicing on your own, or how are you so good already?"

"Papa and Baba show me, ahki," Amir explained, hugging onto him. Lex cocked his head, running a hand over his head. So, both Gilbert and Malik were training Amir when he wasn't. Is that even fair? he wondered, but shrugged it off. Of course, it was fair. Malik deserved a Novice after all he'd been through, even if he still came off as a drill sergeant, and Amir was Gilbert's son after all.

"And whose sword is that?"

"Mine. Mama gave it to me."

"Mama? Sarah made you a sword?"

"No, not that mama. My other mama."

"You have two mamas now? Who's the other one?" In response, Lex was half-dragged out of the ring by the Coal Tit, staggering after Amir as the boy hurried him down the dirt track toward the village. Amir hopped up onto the nearest roof, chirped, and swung back down, taking his brother's arm and hustling him down to the stables. There he pointed to where Malik stood talking with an all too familiar face. Specifically at the all too familiar face.

Malik looked up from speaking with Badr as Amir ran over and hugged him. Lifting his eyes again, the one-armed man gave Lex a nod before casting a look over his shoulder at Badr and setting up the hill again with Amir.

"But I want to swordplay with Brother and learn more and show you and Mama!"

"You will, Amir, he'll be along shortly." As to which he Malik was referring, Lex wasn't certain. He focused on Badr again as the tall messenger made his way to stand the usual distance from him; if Badr had been shorter or the Sparrow taller, their noses would have touched at the tips. As it was, their eyes stared into one another for several minutes, neither making the first move to speak.

"Your lover shamed me," Badr stated with just a hint of venom in his voice. "What's more, he made me the butt of a woman's scorn. She treated me like a child."

"Can you lay claim to being a man if you're slighted by the fact of not having had a good lay in some time, as you so obviously hadn't seemed to have had?"

Badr snorted and stiffened, standing taller, chin tilted slightly upward. After a moment, he brought his temper back down. When next he spoke, his face had the same expression as if he were trying to speak while chewing a mouthful of gravel: "Malik has given me a possible solution so that no bad blood will exist between our lines."

Lex lifted a brow and asked, "Our lines? And what sort of solution?"

"Yes, our lines. You are Amir's brother, though in what way I'm not certain. I care for him as well, and Malik besides. You were Malik's student once."

"Once and only once. You gave Amir a sword?"

"To care for with his life so that it may guard his life when needed."

"I'm sure Gilbert was happy with that."

"He was." The man reached back and scratched at the back of his neck beneath his hood. "His wife nearly beheaded me with a cook pan." Lex chuckled softly. Oh, hell, I missed it. I would've loved to see that.

"Sarah must've been pissed," he giggled. The man's dark and milky eyes narrowed. "A little thing like her nearly killing such a great Assassin?" After another tense few seconds, a sound like a laugh came from the man, though it was creaky from disuse.

"Hmph. Shall the business be done?"

"Sure. What business is it anyway? We sorta got sidetracked there..."

"Yes. Malik has suggested that we become brothers by blood." Lex frowned, brows furrowing. Blood-brothers?

"Okay. Well, what would that mean?" Badr gave him a look like he was an imbecile, but explained, "You would be closer to me than if you would have been born from the same womb or sucked from the same breast as I. We would guard each other and stand in defense of one another if one is humiliated. Should one go to one, the other goes as well. As my brother, you would also be subject to me, as I am sheikh of my tribe."

"I sense there's a 'but' coming," Lex mumbled.

"However," continued the Assassin, a pregnant pause following the word, "however, I would take into consideration the reasons for your actions and any suggestions you would have for me in my duty as well as actions. Is that a clear enough explanation?"

"Yup. So, how're we doing this? Slitting our fingers, cutting our palms, what?" He yelped as his left ring finger was sliced on the pad by Badr's hidden blade. "What the hell, man? That hurt."

"Do the same to me." The man held out his right hand. Sighing and resisting the urge to suck his finger, Lex cut Badr's. Badr took their fingers and pressed them together firmly for a minute before releasing them. The two looked up at Malik, who held out a small piece of parchment. Badr pressed his finger to it. Once Lex had done the same, Malik put the parchment into a small pouch, which Badr took and tucked away into his robes.

"It's done. Let's go watch Amir."



Altair looked up from the glowing object on his desk as Desmond entered his quarters. The man who looked so much like himself gazed at the Apple, then at him. The bartender's ancestor gave a weighty sigh before settling his crossed arms on his desk.

"Well?"

"I have the answer."

"But?" Silence reigned over the room until Desmond all but shouted, "C'mon, gramps, what?"

"Give them more time. Another few days, or perhaps a week." The younger Eagle grew white in the face at the words. Gritting his teeth, he turned sharply and stormed from the room.



"My move?" Jameel looked up from the chess board to where Lex stood in the doorway, beads of sweat soaking down his bangs to black spikes sticking to his brow. He gave a nod and returned to writing. Lex tilted his head as he took a seat beside the Master Assassin, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "What're you working on?"

"It's a journal."

"Ooh, secret diary and all that? Okay, I'll read it when you're not looking then."

"I never said you couldn't read it, Lex." The Sparrow looked up at the other man. The Red Owl reached around and used his hood to mop up the sweat from the back of his neck. "What were you doing?"

"Training Amir with a sword."

"I take it he made things difficult?"

"He made hitting him difficult." The two men shared a laugh, Jameel keeping his hand on the Journeyman's back.

"Are you too tired from training, or do you feel up to taking a walk with me?"

"You've been home an awful lot lately. Why so few missions?" Lex asked, blinking his slightly stinging eyes as he shook the hair back from them and took Jameel's hand.

"Call it the lull in between battles." Jameel leaned down and kissed his cheek. "When you're as old as I am, little bird, you'll understand what a little peace, even one like this, can benefit a man."

"When I'm as old as you are? Oh, yeah, like you're so old, Jameel. Next I look you'll be hunched over with a full, white beard and a cane. What'll they call you then, Umber Owl? Dusk-toned Owl? That shade of red that's just a hint redder than sandstone--what's it, crimson, scarlet?"

"Oh, yes, yes, and you'll be the little gray sparrow, even smaller than now." Jameel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Although..." Scarlet Owl. Crimson Owl. Those do have a nice sound to them. Lex twined their fingers together and left Jameel to his musings, adjusting his arm to fit around his waist as the other drew him closer, the Assassins heading down the slope toward the village.

"Would you mind that, an arthritic, old Owl?" Jameel asked softly as they made way for a gaggle of village men making their way to the keep for some business or other. His thumb brushed against the back of the other's smaller hand, drawing circles there as they continued to walk.

"Would you mind a hunched, gray Sparrow?" Lex squeezed his hand tightly, the prospect of growing old more frightening, oddly, than a swift death by arrow or sword or mace or the slow, fevered pain of poison. Jameel thought a moment before giving him a sidelong smile.

"Would I have to carry you through the market?"

"You'd break your back doing it by then."

Shaking his head again, Jameel stopped as he saw Desmond before them, sitting on one of the low stone walls that snaked down the path to the village, his back pressed against the trunk of a tree. Lifting his head, the Novice stood, but made no move to go toward them. It was to see him out of his haystack, much less so far away from it.

Letting go of his hand, Lex grinned as he made his way over to the Novice.

"Hey, whazzamatta chu, Dessy? Your haystack dump ya?"

Desmond glared at him in a way that would have made the Grandmaster proud.

"It's all because of you. He's holding out on us, out on me, and it's all because of you, you ******** pipsqueak!" Lex took a step back, confusion clear on his face. Surprise streaked across Desmond's. Of course, no one told him... He raised his eyes, looking toward the gaze that had steadily frozen his blood since his getting up from his seat. Now he felt as if the man glaring at him with such utter malice in his eyes would soon be dancing on his grave. Just as soon as he freed him of his mortal coil by ripping it out with his bare hands.

Jameel told Lex then, his voice low, almost a hiss, but for a tremor that almost resembled a strangled sob, "Altair has a way of getting you and Desmond back to your own time, Lex. He has a way of getting you home." The words said, he bounded away up the slope, several quick strides carrying him the same distance back that the leisurely stroll had had him come.

Alone with the other time traveler, the Journeyman turned from gazing to where the Red Owl had fled to Desmond.

"He does?" His voice was flat, monotonous.

"Yeah." The Eagle nodded. Lex gave a single nod, a dull "Okay," and walked back up the slope to the training yard. Jameel was battling the training dummies again, stabbing them with his hidden blade in the vitals, each blow more frenzied than the last, creating a vast array of torn cloth limbs and shredded straw.

The Sparrow looked at Jameel for a long while, watching him tear apart the strawmen in a way he was sure he would have torn apart Desmond had he been allowed. He made his way over, his limbs leaden. Gravity pulled at him like he'd gone to the top of the tower and just walked right off. He stopped a few feet from Jameel's back, looking at the dummy the man had most recently been facing. Lopping its head off would have been a mercy, the way it looked.

The image blurred.

Don't cry. Don't cry now, not in front of him. Stop! Stop, damn it! He coughed, shaking.

The tears wouldn't stop.

Jameel stopped when he heard the cough, his hidden blade sheathing itself with a flick of the ring on his pinkie. He turned to Lex. Concern etched itself across his face, the roiling hatred he'd felt moments before burned away at the sight of his lover standing there, tears and snot streaking down his face. Lex looked up at him.

"Just...ah, ********..." He ran a hand over his eyes and nose, through his hair. "Damn it, Jameel...God damn it..." Lex stared at him, slack jawed, breathing heavily, voice barely intelligable through the sobs he restrained, "If--If you so much as think about saying 'we knew this day would come,' I will kill you." What strength he had left seemed to flee his limbs as he sagged forward and clung to the taller man's waist. Jameel knelt quickly, hugging him close.

"I know." He wiped the tears and snot clean from his face, taking the sweat away from his brow with a few passes of his gloved hand, smoothing his hair back from his face. "It's true, though." I have to let him go. Lex doesn't belong here. It would change everything. Maybe it's for the best if Lex goes back to his own time. After all...the maxim of the Brotherhood is...'Nothing is true; everything is permitted'. Jameel schooled his features perfectly, but behind his impassive face, behind the ice he forced into his eyes with cold truth, he felt a knot growing in his stomach, a lump in his throat. "You have to go back." His fingers dug into Lex's shoulders as he pressed his face into the smaller man's neck, a single shudder escaping his tightly held control. "I can't follow."

The Sparrow nodded, swallowing thickly around the mouthful of spittle now stuck in his throat.

"Don't forget me, okay?" Jameel nodded, sighing against his skin as he nestled into his Owl's arms. "Jameel." Lifting his head, the older man sighed again, lips pressed to his own. He returned the kiss with as much strength as he was allowed, still restraining his anguish until it could be wrestled back into the pit it had escaped from, clutching onto Lex the same way he would have if he'd been drowning--drowning and consious, at least. "What do you want to do until Altair stops screwing around and gets whatever it is set up to go?"

The Master Assassin managed a smirk.

"Up for learning how to fight blind? I still need to teach you how." He pressed his lips to his forehead. "I want to get it into this thick skull of yours before..." His face was pressed into his hair then. Jameel twisted his fingers into his lover's hair. It would be a parting gift for his little bird.

"Yeah, I'm up for it." Lex helped him to stand. They moved into the training ring. Jameel tossed him one of the blindfolds, which he wrapped over his eyes and tied tight. "Let's do this. Show me how it's done, Master."



Desmond sat atop the ledge nearest his haystack, not speaking, just sitting, looking out over Masyaf and the landscape beyond. He looked up as a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Why are you out of your haystack, Desmund?" asked Gilbert, head tilted to one side. "You two didn't have a lover's quarrel, did you? I hear straw is a fickle mistress to please, especially with bedding down."

"No. What're you doing up here anyway?" the other man muttered. The German straightened.

"Going to see what all the excitement is about. Amir's dragged everyone he can find over here. I can't see how he missed you. Come. Let's see what all this fuss is about." He drew the man up and headed toward the training yard with him.



Jameel had tied the blindfold tight over his eyes as Lex had done and was immediately on the offensive, his dagger drawn. He weaved from one side of the other, drawing the smaller man into the center of the ring, but instead of his normal silence, he was purposefully loud, kicking up dust with each halting stride. He didn't want to hurt Lex or even scare him.

"Pay attention to your environment. Your enemies will try to keep silent in the dark. The smart ones anyway." His dagger came down.

The Journeyman shifted his weight forward, grasping his blade just below the guard and aiming a punch at the Owl's face.

Jameel moved his head aside as he heard the creaking of Lex's gloves, letting the punch sail harmlessly past his head. He shoved him hard in the chest with his shoulder. The Journeyman rode the shove and planted the balls of his feet into the sand, only to be forced into motion again as Jameel went into a dance with his weapon. He skipped around the blade whenever it drew near him. Jameel picked up his pace, forcing Lex to move faster to avoid the curved edge coming toward him.

The display was drawing quite the crowd. The Novices usually at their training by now stood around the ring, mouths agape. More Novices were crowding in, as well as Assassins who usually passed through the training yard. The daily routine had just offered an awe-inspiring, interesting diversion they were glad to take up.

Lex's eyes flicked behind the blindfold as he moved for the Master Assassin's right, then came up hard on his left with a kick.

Jameel's left hand lashed out like a coiled snake, catching his leg by the ankle. He shoved the leg away, counterattacking with a low kick to Lex's right leg.

"s**t!" Lex caught himself on his hands and threw himself to the side, rolling out of range of Jameel's dagger. He rolled into a crouch and stilled. Listened. Then darted forward, zigzagging toward the Owl and pushing off the ground, aiming a punch for his head. He moved below the punch, quickly turning the dagger so the blade was toward himself, and rammed his fist into Lex's exposed torso full force.

The Journeyman gagged as he toppled to the ground, clutching his gut and sucking for the air he'd lost. Jameel reached down and took him by the arm, listening to his breathing. As it steadied, he drew the other up to his feet. He'd heard Lex coming, heard with a tinge of excitement the whoosh as the air left his lungs. He knew there was a crowd watching. Despite lack of any commentary by the transfixed crowd, he heard the shuffling of their feet as they leaned and moved around each other for a better view.

Within the crowd, Desmond and Gilbert watched, the Eagle peering over the shoulders of a few other men.

"Five," from Desmond.

"Twenty," Gilbert's counter.

"Thirty."

"Fifty."

Lex grasped onto Jameel's robes, throwing himself forward and up at the same time he hauled the man down, cracking their heads together. Lex released his grip and attempted to jump back, staggering as he landed again. Owwww. That hurt. No one wins with a headbutt... He shifted his footing and held up his fists, circling, waiting for an opening.

Jameel, too, had staggered from the blow, disoriented. He held his head and managed to shake it off quickly enough. The man sheathed his dagger. Fine. If that's how you want to play, I'll fight you hand to hand. The Red Owl moved in, not granting Lex the opening he sought. He kept up a continuous barrage of strikes, forcing Lex to ward off the blows with his arms where he could and take them where he couldn't.

Lex gagged as he was suddenly pulled into a headlock under Jameel's arm, fear spiking cold along his spine. He can snap my neck like this... The Sparrow immediately jammed his knuckles squarely into the man's diaphragm. Released from the hold, he came at Jameel with his own volley of blows, most of which were blocked, only to break off suddenly, ducking down and swiping at his legs.

Jameel jumped over the sweeping kick and smiled. He backed up quickly to avoid being tripped.

"Good. You're getting it! Keep it up!" This is fun. He almost laughed aloud. I haven't had this much fun since executing my first Leap of Faith. Lex was a fast learner, faster with combat than books. Now I have to teach him blind swordplay too. This will be more dangerous...but all the more exciting.

The Sparrow flashed a grin, excitement and pride at the words filling his face.

"I'll do that! What's next?" He waited a bit, cocking his head as he listened. He broke into a run, checked suddenly, hopped to the right, then aimed for a tackle. Jameel moved to Lex's left, giving him a not-so-gentle shove so that he fell into the sand.

"Swordfighting while blindfolded."

They drew their swords. Lex assumed the easy stance he'd fallen into the few times he'd held a sword, one hand at his side, slightly back in case it needed to rise and balance him out, the other hand gripping the sword as he circled. Bringing his hand forward, he lunged, flicking the blade in toward Jameel's shoulder.

Jameel kept up his smile as he parried easily and counterattacked with his own jabs and slices. Lex evaded Jameel's slices, giving a soft noise of discomfort as one of the jabs caught him across the arm and blood spilled onto his sleeve. Parrying once again as the blade came for him, he worked into Jameel's guard, getting in a few jabs and pecks of his own, spotting the Master Assassin's tunic at the calf and forearm with little red splotches.

The crowd started to cheer at the sight of drawn blood, evidence that the two were taking the spar to the level of near combat--they were serious as the threat of death that now colored the tips of their long swords.

Jameel swung again. Lex leaned back from the slice, gulping at the feel of the blade flicking by mere inches from his throat. He flipped his blade so the pommel faced toward the Red Owl, grasping it below the guard as he slammed it into the man's gut, quickly righting it so the blade pointed outward once more.

He felt the air rush from his lungs as the pommel struck him, but didn't slow. He kept at the offensive, trading blows with Lex, blades ringing. His heart thundered in his chest, what tiredness he'd felt melting away.

The cheering intensified.

Lex was pressed back. Sweat dampened the blindfold, stung his eyes where it managed to seep beneath the cloth, stuck his hair down to his forehead and the nape of his neck. He blinked furiously, eyes watering. He started to breathe a little harder, a little faster than he knew he should.

Calm down. It's just like chess. Physical chess.

He drew a long breath as he evaded Jameel's next strike with a quick roll, shifting into a half-crouch, aiming for his lower back with a jab. Jameel twisted out of the strike's path, planting his foot into Lex's chest. The other fell back, only to scramble up again, panting heavily.

Desmond did a double take when another pair of robes came up behind him, along with familiar faces. Gilbert looked as well. Altair and Maria were standing there, watching the battle. Desmond blinked, looking between the couple and the Falcon. The German shrugged as they too resumed watching.

Jameel shivered as he felt the sweat trickling down his neck and chest, but didn't slow his assault. Slowing down would mean getting tired; getting tired in the middle of a fight meant death. He wasn't about to slow down, and he wouldn't allow Lex to slow down either. Jameel's mind went into battle mode, making the blows heavier, bringing to bear his full strength with each strike, quickening his pace so the blows would be ever harder to parry. They could still be parried, but it would be difficult if his opponent was taking him lightly.

Lex stumbled as his back ran up against the fence, barely escaping a swipe as the sword came at his head, rushing to one side. As the jarring force of metal clashing on metal made his arms rattle once again, his knees ready to buckle, something clicked in his mind, the same as it had the night he'd fought the guards in Acre. With a yell, he threw himself against the attacks, striking back hard and taking the offense for himself fully. He shoved Jameel up against the fence, locking their blades and planting his feet. It was a test of strength he knew he would loose, and planned on it.

As Jameel forced him to bend, he broke away and finally succeeded in putting his fist into the man's face, the punch landing hard on his jaw.

Jameel thrust him back then, falling on him with a new savagery. His attacks were vicious, cutting into skin as the blows became so many flashes of steel. He was a Master Assassin battling a deadly enemy now, mind bent on freeing himself from the trap he'd somehow gotten into. Instinct and training ruled his mind; he wanted out of the corner he'd been boxed into by steel and fists no matter who he had to cleave through.

The Journeyman's eyes stretched to their widest behind the strip of cloth as he struggled to defend himself, all but thrown onto his back with each blow, tripping over his feet in every attempt to keep his footing, drawing upon all the strength, training, and--somehow--instinct that had been ground into him since he'd been in Masyaf. Gonna die! Gonna die! Gonna die! screamed the front of his mind while the back shouted just as loudly, if not louder, Live, live, live! As the Master Assassin's blade pressed to his once more, he shifted, slamming his heel into Jameel's inner thigh. As the man's leg buckled, he grasped his sword arm and ducked down, flipping him over his shoulder and into the sand. There Jameel lay pinned, the tip of a Hidden Blade pressed against his throat.