For a week after the ordeal, Altair remained in a feverish coma. After the fight, Malik immediately called the doctors, who assured Malik that Altair would be ok, it was only when they arrived back at the hospital wing were they challenged wrong. Since the loss of Maliks brother, he had treated Altair as his own, and what he saw scared him. Once back at the hospital wing, and Altair had been laid down on a bed, the doctors removed the top half of his assassin robes to find that Altair had wasted away. He was thin, and weak. Those two months of worry, regret and anxiety had affected the master worse than Malik had thought. The mere sight of it reduced Malik to tears, yet he refused to leave his side. He was often chased out by the doctors, telling him he had work to tend to, which was very true. He wasn't cut out for this.

On the seventh day of Altairs fever, he stirred, and his eyes opened to gaze at Malik, who was sitting quietly at a desk in the corner, attempting to get some work done. It was only when Altair spoke that he looked up from his work.
"...Malik... Where, what is going on.."

Maliks head shot up in surprise. He was finally awake and Malik could now work in peace.
"Altair! You're finally awake! I was worried.."

"No need to worry about me" Altair replied. He looked at Malik and saw that his lip had been spilt, and he had several bruises about his figure. "Who did that?" He asked quietly.

Malik dropped his gaze. Should he tell the truth? He decided so, not much point hiding it.
"You.. Did" He said cautiously.

Altairs brow furrowed in frustration.

"You don't remember anything?" Malik asked,

"How long have I been out?" Altair asked, avoiding the question,

"Five days, but you don't remember anything?" He asked again with a little more force. Altair sat up gingerly and winced,

"I can only remember the Apple… where is it?"

After getting Altair to safety, Malik went back to the library to retrieve the sphere, and Altars hidden blade. He had locked the Apple away, in fear of the same thing happening again.

"I've locked it away where you will not find it" He said simply, turning back to his work. Altair groaned in frustration.

"I am so close with this and you lock it away?" He growled, Malik glared.

"That thing nearly cost you your life, and mine in turn. Whatever happened, I do not want it to happen again"

Altair grumbled and swung his legs over the bed, and stood warily, much to Maliks distaste, Altair shot him a mild glare, clearly angry with his friend. Malik watched as the master walked to the door,

"Hey where are you going?" He asked alarmed,

"Back to the library. I have things to do" he replied simply. Malik eyed his fellow Syrian and nodded. Altair quietly left the room. Malik sighed, and returned to his own room.

Altair arrived in the library, unaware of what had taken place. He walked over to a grand staircase, up to his own quarters, where he sat silently at his desk and pulled out his own journal, and an elegant eagle feather quill, as he did so, he began to write;

"I assumed that the Apple would provide some clarity, only to find that I was wronged. I remember little from five days ago. The opposite of clarity. Malik has locked my Apple away, just as I was on the edge of a breakthrough, yet my mind was not focused, was not strong. The Apple held more power than I believed possible. Devastating powers, but with it a seed of opportunity for salvation and growth. I only need to discover how to properly control it. I do not wish to risk innocents for the sake of answers. The Apple not only contains wisdom and power, but ideas to develop humanity. To build better weapons and provide a guide into the unknown-"

Altair froze, and dropped his quill, deep in thought. To build better weapons… He harshly opened a draw and rummaged around. His hidden blade had been broken according to Malik. He pulled out a scroll and spread it out across his desk. It contained illustrations of a hidden blade, the image depicting a much more advanced design than the current one. There were runes all around the edges, forming sentence like messages. It was encrypted.

"The Apple.." Altair mumbled.

He needed the Apple to decode it. This was something he was searching for. But Malik would not let him near the Apple, let alone reveal its location. He needed a plan.

[Just a draft]

00:26, May 14, 2013 (UTC)

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