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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
That was it then. No more coffee from that place and Malik really liked it! The mocha tasted good for a change as Cem actually knew how to make it.

He was cold all over and soaked thoroughly when he stopped in front of the small apartment complex. He still got an hour before he'd have to start work so there was nothing against visiting an old friend. Besides, he hadn't seen her for far too long and lately, he felt the need to see somebody familiar.

He cringed. That guy in the coffee shop looked familiar. Well, of course since he'd seen him just the other day on the train. But that was not it, that wasn't all of the story. It really was a story, wasn't it? It felt like as if they shared one and yet, he couldn't really name the tale but he knew it was there, hiding in the dark waiting for Malik to find it. He shook his head. Not now. It was still too early in the morning for him to set his wit's to work and he pushed the doorbell and waiting to get buzzed in.

Two sets of stairs later, a turn and a short walk along a barely lit corridor he stopped in front of a dark green painted door with a peephole in the middle of it, staring back at Malik. To his left a door opened and he glanced sideways, watching a man stepping outside with a bag of garbage in his hand. He thought it looked odd since he wore brightly polished black shoes and they looked a bit too expensive as if someone living in this neighborhood could afford a pair like that. Marta opened up and the wrinkled face smiled at him, her eyes shinning with warmth. "Come on in boy. You look like you need to warm up. Is it still raining out there?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not at Marta, never at her. He just shook his head and stepped into her small apartment, waiting for her to follow him into the small kitchen and sitting down at the table. Once she took a seat next to him he pulled off his coat, hanging it over the chair's back and placing the empty cup of mocha in front of him.

"You want something? I made some baklava the other day."

Baklava – how long has it been that he had some of that? Too long, that was for sure as he couldn't remember. "That would be great, thank you", he nodded and Marta got up again, shifting in her small kitchen and pulling old cabinets open, placing two plates in front of them onto the table and opening her oven taking out a baking sheet. She'd already cut it into small pieces and used her fingers to serve two of them on his plate, then on hers before she put the sheet back. "Coffee?" He shook his head and Marta sat back down again.

He picked up one piece of the pastry and bit into it, the flavor of pistachios invading his senses and it was sweet, oh so very sweet and he wished he still had some of his mocha left but it was good. Not as good as his mother used to make it but Marta had practiced over the years and improved her skills. She looked at him with big round eyes, waiting for him to say something. He nodded and licked his fingers. "'s good", he told her and Marta's lips broke into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen and she bit into her own, chewing slowly and swallowing eventually.

There was a children's home right down the street and only a few minutes away from Marta's house. It wasn't the best neighborhood but it could be worse. When Malik had been a child he often came visiting Marta since it was only a short walk and she always welcomed him with open arms. Over the years she had become something close to a mother for him and even now as he had long left the home moving into his own apartment he still came every other month visiting the old woman and catching up with her.

He didn't visit the children's home.

Lately though he could see a change when he came over to her place, usually before he had to go to work as he was too tired when he got off. Marta seemed worn out and her small apartment didn't look as tidy anymore as it used to be. Even now there were dirty plates piling up in the sink, the floor stained and on the small windowsill stood a vase with a bouquet in, one he got her last month and the flowers had died a long time ago.

"How are things?", he asked her in a small voice, the baklava on his plate forgotten but she just smiled at him, blinking a few times. "I missed my favorite little boy, that's all", she told him even though her voice sounded pressed and thick. She waved at him. "You know, lately I often think back when you've been younger. When you and Kadar came visiting me with dirty feet since you both didn't like to wear shoes during summer..." She cut herself off, her eyes growing empty and distant and she didn't move for the longest time. She folded her hands in her lap looking down, her long silver hair falling into her eyes. He could hear her sniffle.

He knew. He didn't have to ask her but knew. Next week Kadar would be dead for four years. He had tried not to think about it to just shove it away at the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tried, the memories came always crawling back and there was nothing he could do. Malik simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He always liked your baklava", he murmured softly and startled when Marta reached across the table to take his hand, his left one, her thumb stroking across it. He had to withdraw, not able to stand her touch.

"Could we just not... talk about him?", he said after a while, the clock on Marta's kitchen wall the only sound breaking the silence, its soft tick-tock hammering into his ears. Marta looked hurt for a short moment but then the expression on her face melted and when Malik glanced upwards he saw pity – he hated pity. He couldn't be angry at Marta, couldn't be angry at the woman that had given him and Kadar something close to a home when they'd been younger, alone and frightened in a country they didn't understand. He didn't understand it now either.

"Alright then", Marta sighed and she leaned back in her chair. "Are you sure you don't want some coffee? I could make you some", she offered and that smile was back on her face, a smile only women her age could manage, all warm and motherly but he could see that the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had gotten deeper.

Again he shook his head. "There's more, isn't there?", he asked her quietly and the rain outside got lighter. "Something you haven't told me yet."

"I'm going to move, Malik", she simply told him as she knew it was wasted energy to keep something away from him. He was good at reading people, always had been and most of the times she didn't manage to hide things from him. "I got the letter last week. They're going to tear the buildings on this block down, the children's home too. I can't afford a new place and I'm too old anyway. I found this cutest little retirement home", and she turned around, grabbing something on the kitchen counter and handing him a small brochure. Eve's Garden it read on the top, a picture underneath it showing a white house standing at the end of a green field with a small path leading towards it made out of white pebbles. It looked peaceful, almost nice. Even he had to admit that.

He looked up at her, the brochure between his fingers and blinked a couple of times. "They're tearing it down? Why?"

Marta sighed heavily. She'd been living here a long time. He came to the country when he was two years old, almost three living in the home down the street and Marta had been here just as long if not even longer.

"The block was bought by some investor anonymously. I don't know what they plan... a mall or something, oh what do I know", and she shook her head. "I have to be out of here by the end of the month."

"By the end of the month? But that's in two weeks!" Talk about short notice...

Marta smiled again and this time it looked empty. "I know darling. But there's nothing I can do and besides... my bones are a bit tired lately. I can't do as much as I used to do. It'll be better for me anyway."

Malik eyed her sceptically. "That doesn't sound like you", he murmured and picked up the baklava, bitting off another mouthful.

"No it doesn't, I-" She sighed heavily and looked up the ceiling, blinking rapidly and he knew she was fighting with tears. When she found his gaze again her eyes looked wet but no tears had fallen. "I always thought I would die here, you know?", she said softly, her voice small and kind of lost.

"Yeah I know", he sighed and this time it was him who reached across the table to hold her hand, the only comfort he could offer to her.
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Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again