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Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again	By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 3972 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed nor do I make money by publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 1
- 2
Altair fell.
Wind was ripping at his clothes as he rushed towards earth and for a moment he thought he wouldn't make it, couldn't make – it was impossible for a man to survive such a fall and the cold grip of fear closed around his heart, crushing it in a merciless tight fist and it was hard to suck the air in, to breath as panic crawled slowly across his soul like a spider. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact to come but it never did, his fall never stopped and maybe, that was the worst feeling.
He woke with a silent scream on his lips. The bedsheets were tangled around his legs, sweat clinging to his skin like the memory of the spider climbing up his spine. Altair sat up, breathing heavily and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked her, his heart beating wildly.
Shit.
It happened more often now. These dreams in which he fell towards earth with the scream of an eagle tearing through the sky and seconds before he would hit the ground he'd wake up, confused and afraid. He always thought he would die but the impact never came as he always woke up before his body would be crushed. He hated nights like these, absolutely hated them. He could hardly find sleep again once he was up, so Altair swung his legs over the bed's edge and sat up, elbows resting on his knees and he rubbed his face with both his hands, swallowing heavily. He glanced at the small digital clock on his nightstand. The big red numbers told him it was just shortly after 4 am. Great... one more hour and he would have to get up anyway.
Altair straightened his back, his head rolling to one side to the other and his bones popped back into place with a loud crack while he stood up, heading for his bathroom first to take a piss and then walking towards the kitchen. He pulled out a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water, gulping everything down in one go. He gripped the counter's edges and his head hung low between his shoulders as the moon's light fell in silver waves through his window, creating large shadows crawling across the walls.
The dreams had gotten worse.
They came more often.
They felt more real.
This time he could actually feel the wind, could smell the desert and feel the sun's heat on his skin, taste the dirt... He shuddered, goosebumps spreading down his arms and spine and he pushed himself off the counter, sighing deeply once more. At least it was this dream and not... one of the other ones as he felt even worse after waking up from them, feeling guilty and ashamed, sometimes dirty too.
He made up his mind then and grabbed everything to get his coffeemaker to work and once the water run through the filter he went for a shower. The cold water helped him to sort his thoughts, to bring him back into reality as he could still hear the eagle's cry echoing inside his head. It hasn't been always like that, well, at least the dreams haven't. They had changed over the years and when Altair got older. When he was a child he had nightmares. Terrible nightmares, large shadows growing in front of him, men without faces staring down on him, blood covering the ground to his feet and a sword cutting through the air, the sound as something was hit, something wet, the cracking of bones and then the sound of a body hitting the ground accompanied by the feeling of pure horror as if his world had ended, as if he just lost something very important, very dear to him and sometimes, he could hear someone screaming, someone sounding very young like a small boy. There were good ones too even though only a few. Dreams in which he lay in a field staring up the sky and watching the clouds pass by. But the older he got the more violent his dreams became. He actually went to see a shrink about it but they couldn't help. Nothing could help. He had tried sleeping pills, hoping they would take away the dreams but that didn't work either. Maybe he just had to live with them.
He got dressed after he had his first cup of coffee and watched himself in the large mirror which was hanging on his bedroom door, turning this way and that way to make sure he could leave the house presentable. He pulled a face as he got close in front of the smooth glass, his fingers touching the skin underneath his eyes. Maybe he should get one of those... makeup roller sticks. The ones for women with caffeine in them to get rid of dark circles. He stuck out his tongue at his reflection – nah, he wasn't that vain. Maybe a little as he thought they made him look older than he actually was. He closed the door behind him with a small 'click' as he went outside, way too early and he'd arrive an hour early for work but going back to sleep hadn't been an option either.
He was sitting in the train when he dozed off again, his cheek resting on his hand and no, he wasn't drooling it just looked like it. He was dreaming and his leg twitched as he was pulled right back into this other life he seemed to undergo.

xxx

Malik arrived at work an hour late – which was very unusual for him as he didn't hate anything more than being late and as he watched the knowing grins of his co-workers he knew they would never let him forget that he, Malik al-Sayf, was late for work. It wasn't his fault though, no, not really and right now he tried to convince himself that maybe he had been still asleep when his alarm had been going off. That's the only reason why what'd happened, well, actually happened. He couldn't have figure out how to turn it off. He just couldn't. He had stared at his phone, his alarm hooting loudly and for the longest time. After a while he had just given up and put his phone underneath his pillow, then put his blanket on top of it because it was still loud as fuck, then went out of the room only to walk into the living room and staring at the TV as if he'd never seen one before. It was strange, really but most of all terrifying. This was just something that didn't happen. You just did not forget how to turn off the alarm on your phone. You just did not forget what a TV was. You just didn't and yet it happened to Malik this morning. He probably just had been still half-asleep. Maybe even sleepwalking if that was possible? But he wasn't going insane. This wasn't dementia starting, please.
Yet he sat down at his desk turning on his computer and waiting for it to run before he opened his browser and started searching for symptoms of dementia.
Disorientation?
No, not at all.
Impaired speech?
No again.
Personality changes?
Nope.
Forgetfulness?
Yeah, shit kind of. It had started a few months ago. He sometimes... just kind of woke up at a place where he couldn't remember how he got there or what the hell he wanted there. The strangest place he ever woke to had been on top of a skyscraper.
All the other symptoms didn't match and he didn't know if he should feel relieved or not. He decided for being still worried and considered seeing a doctor later the day. But first... work.
His day was going slow as Malik couldn't really focus on his work. He was a graphic designer and they just got his huge commission for this pharmaceutical company – Absterg or something... Abstergo, yes that was the name of it and he was currently working on their logo. He didn't like any of his drafts so far and he only got until the end of the week then he had to come up with something he could present. He threw his what felt like the millionth sketch that day into the bin and leaned back heavily in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and looking up the ceiling, rubbing his face then. This was just no use and he still couldn't forget about the incident this morning.
Maybe it was something neurological. Brain tumor? God no, he wouldn't google the symptoms for that. There was one thing you really had to know about Malik: he was a damn wuss when it came to his health. One might actually dare to say he suffered from a mild anxiety disorder, but those who knew Malik's background would understand as he'd seen and experienced things most people did not in a whole lifetime and he was only 27.
This was not the moment to think about it and he leaned forwards, his elbows resting on top of his desk, chin propped in his palms - at least he could say 'palms' as in plural.
So when he looked at his clock and it finally showed 5 pm he was more than relieved that he could go home. Most of his colleagues hadn't bother him, they knew better than to talk with him when he was 'in a mood' as they liked to call it. He wasn't really a people person, never had been. Even though he'd been living in this country for more than twenty years he'd never really felt at home. This wasn't home, he felt more like a guest but going back to his country, to his homeland wasn't an option either. Not since the war had started there a year ago. He didn't have a home, not really. More than often he just felt like a nomad. He didn't really belong here but he doubted it had something to do with him fleeing his country back in 1987 when he'd only been an infant... sometimes it felt more like as if this... wasn't his time. It was difficult to explain and he had never told anybody about it as they wouldn't understand. Hell, even he didn't understand so how could he explain it to somebody else?
Today just wasn't his day and as he was riding the train home, he wanted to close his eyes to pretend all the other people weren't there. It didn't work though as he felt like a sardine in a can, smelling the sweat of all the other people, hearing them coughing, sniffling and all. The next stop came and a lot of people got off and there was finally an empty seat he could take, slumping down heavily on it and leaning his head back against the fogged glass. Malik took deep breaths, glad that it wouldn't take much longer until his station came. But the easing of tension didn't come. It felt like as if somebody was watching him and when he cracked one eye open he could see him, sitting there a few seats away watching him with the most strange eyes he'd ever seen. A bright amber flashing at him from beneath the shadows of his hood covering his head.
Those eyes felt awfully familiar and sent a shiver up his spine and Malik felt cold. Just what the hell was he staring at? Probably just some weirdo. Nothing unusual happening when he was riding the train. Most people stared at him especially after 9/11 – at least they didn't insulted him anymore. It had gotten better ever since there was a black guy sitting in the White House.
Malik opened both his eyes, turning his head to meet his gaze fully and when he did, the man jerked as if Malik had caught him, which he kind of did, quickly turning his head and staring out into the darkness and the colorful lights flashing by as the train moved through the night. That was better – look the other way boy because Malik was in no mood for some stranger eye-fucking him. He got off the next station, watching Malik from the corner of his eye and his skin prickled as he tried to pretend that this stranger was not staring at him. He sighed though once he was gone, angry at himself for getting worked up over a weirdo. The cabin was almost empty now and Malik could finally relax, dozing until he had to get up.
When he turned the keys in the lock, walking into his dark apartment he felt more lost than ever, going to the fridge and pulling out a water bottle, slumping down on his couch and turning on the TV – at least he didn't forget how that worked this time. Malik didn't really watch, just stared off into empty space, not listening and bothering with the pictures flickering across the screen and illuminating him in a soft blue glow. He didn't eat that evening. He didn't go to see a doctor either.
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Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again