Chapter Text
Altair Ibn’ La-Ahad worked as a bird handler by day. It was a job he’d fallen into pretty much by accident in his late teens—as part of his mandated community service for a minor crime, he’d had to volunteer at a bird rescue center, and had kept doing so since then—and it suited his personality just fine. After all, the birds of prey he worked with didn’t feel the need to chat idly or pry into his private life. And then he liked seeing them glide in the wind, barely extending any energy to keep themselves in the air. Altair sometimes envied them their ability to fly; even after ten years of working with them, these birds still fascinated him.
It was luck, really, that he could work with them and get paid for it. From an hour before dawn to the end of his shift after lunch, he patrolled the grounds at the Montreal Trudeau International Airport, scaring away birds from the path of airplanes. His favorite companion during those patrols was a golden eagle called Ivan, which Altair had trained from birth himself.
They formed a good team, Ivan and him.
Altair looked up, watching Ivan circle high above his head, and frowned at the gathering dark gray clouds in the sky. It would be raining before long, he thought with a sigh. Fortunately, his shift was almost over and soon a colleague would be replacing him. Time to head back to the aviary and get Ivan settled down.
He whistled and the eagle changed its course to plummet toward him. He raised his gloved hand and waited for Ivan to land on his fist. The bird weighed nearly as much as a human baby, and this fact always managed to catch Altair by surprise at first.
The bird settled down and began to groom its feathers, and Altair caught its lead between two gloved fingers. He took the eagle’s hood from his pocket and fitted it over the bird’s head as he returned to the sanctuary's car he used for his patrols.
Sound to his right caught his attention. A private plane had landed on the closest tarmac and a group of people was gathering beside it. Altair had no idea what they were discussing, but whatever it was, they sounded animated. Angry even.
He shrugged. None of his business. Even if some of them, when he looked their way, were red.
Now, that was one thing Altair never talked about with anyone. The colors he saw. Well, they weren’t actually colors, but it was the closest thing he’d come up with to explain the phenomenon. People… radiated, and their color changed depending on their level of danger. Red for aggressive. Blue for friendly. White for indifferent. Most people were white, but those men around the plane were red.
His ability, if you could call it that, wasn’t always reliable and it came and went depending on his moods. But this time there was no mistaking it. Those people, for some reason, were dangerously agressive.
Nothing to do with him, Altair told himself firmly. He slipped into his car, letting Ivan perch on the passenger seat beside him. Still, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time as he drove away. He had a bad feeling about those men that went beyond the angry red surrounding them.
“You’re imagining things,” he muttered, and snorted when Ivan squawked in response to his voice as though agreeing with him.
Five minutes later, Altair parked the car in front of the airport’s small aviary and killed the engine. He hid a yawn behind his hand and coaxed Ivan back on his fist so he could get the bird and himself inside before the downpour. Fat raindrops had begun dotting the car’s windshield and the wind had picked up, tugging at his hoodie and cargo pants.
Altair opened the door and took a step inside before instinct made him freeze. He wasn’t alone in the aviary. Nonetheless, he took the time to put Ivan down on his usual perch before raking the small, shadowed room with his gaze. He noticed the man hiding behind the falcon’s cage too late. In a blur of movement, he was on Altair, forcing him back against the wall with one arm across his throat.
“Not a sound,” the stranger hissed. He was dressed all in black, black slacks, black t-shirt, and black windbreaker. A blade glinted in the hand he wasn't holding at Altair’s throat, although he made no move to threaten Altair with it.
Also, he was blue. The stranger was the brightest blue Altair had ever seen. That made no sense, seeing as he was right now in the middle of assaulting Altair.
The birds around them squawked and ruffled their feathers nervously. “You’re scaring my birds,” Altair said in irritation.
The arm on Altair’s throat pushed his head harder back into the wall, cutting his hair supply down to a trickle. “I said quiet,” the stranger repeated, threatening. His accent sounded foreign, and Altair guessed arabic was the man’s first language.
His color never changed. He was still blue despite his implied threat.
Altair grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it away from his neck, then pushed him back. It took his assailant by surprise, as the man hissed in pain and stumbled back. Altair stared at the sticky wetness going down the man’s left shoulder and arm and dripping on the dirt floor. Blood, Altair realized with a start. The man was badly hurt.
“Who are you?” Altair blurted, and then, “You’re hurt.”
For the longest moment, the man said nothing, simply glaring at Altair in silence. But he was swaying on his feet, the loss of blood taking its toll. His brown skin had taken a grayish tint that didn’t look healthy.
“Sit down before you pass out,” Altair said into the heavy silence.
He moved to the back of the room, the stranger’s eyes following his every move, and grabbed the aviary’s single chair—a stool, really. He returned with it and put it down in front of the man, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Sit down,” he said again, uncertain why he was even trying to help. Logically, he should be calling the police at this point. Why wasn’t he? He couldn't explain it to himself, apart from the fact he somehow knew the stranger represented no danger to him.
The man sat down with a grunt of pain, and they stared at each other warily. Altair hesitated, then asked, “Do you have a name?”
“...Malik.”
“What happened?”
This time, the man’s hesitation lasted longer. “Shot,” he finally offered.
A series of hypotheses crossed Altair’s mind. Was the man an illegal immigrant trying to get to one of the planes? He seemed too well dressed for it. A terrorist? And yet he wasn’t red. Altair was pretty sure a terrorist would be red. Drug smuggler? Trespasser? None of these answer satisfied him.
No matter, he had a bigger problem right this moment. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Altair bent to get his cellphone from the messenger bag he always stashed close to the door, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away. Malik had gotten back to his feet, and was glowering at him. “No,” he growled. He wobbled and had to sit back down. “No ambulance.”
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Altair said, pointing to the obvious. “You need a doctor.”
Again, there was heavy silence before Malik answered. “Doctor… yes. But no ambulance. They cannot know I am here. I know a doctor. I just need to contact them first.”
As Altair watched, half-worried half-puzzled, Malik reached for his ear, then his upper back. He cursed when he couldn’t find whatever he was looking for. An earpiece, was Altair’s guess.
Who was this man?
He still thought Malik needed an ambulance, but he could see that Malik wouldn’t let him call one. Muttering to himself about stupid decisions, Altair moved to the back of the room to get the aviary’s first aid kit. He hadn’t taken two steps when he felt movement behind him, and he froze. He didn’t need to look back to know Malik had gotten to his feet again.
“Sit down. I’m just getting the first aid kit. If I can’t call you an ambulance, I need another way to stanch the blood before you pass out on me.”
Malik grunted, but didn’t say anything else.
Altair shook his head. Malik acted twitchier than a wild falcon with a broken wing. He grabbed the medical kit and returned to Malik’s side, saying. “See. First aid kit. Bird talons are quite sharp, so we always keep gauze and bandages close at hand.” He spoke to Malik like he would to a wounded bird, calm and steady.
“Alright,” Malik replied with a sigh. Then, grudgingly, “I need to use your phone.”
Altair hesitated for a heartbeat or two. If he let Malik use his phone, who would he call? He didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever had gotten the man shot. But allowing Malik to call backup might get him off Altair’s hands, and he could return to his usual routine.
“Let me take a look at your arm, then I’ll loan you my cell.”
This time, Malik’s grunt almost sounded like a laugh.
“What?” Altair frowned at Malik.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to bargain with the strange wounded man who attacked you.” Malik sounded amused.
Altair shrugged. “You’re bleeding on the floor and stressing my birds out,” he replied defensively. “I want you out of my aviary without me having to carry you because you’re unconscious. You look heavy.”
He put the kit down beside him and gave Malik’s blood-soaked windbreaker a dubious look. “Can you take it off? Else, I’ll have to cut the sleeve.”
“No cutting.”
With painful slowness, Malik peeled the coat away from his shoulders, being very careful not to jostle his left arm. He let it hit the floor with a wet plop, and Malik cursed between gritted teeth. Altair, though, had stopped paying attention to the coat, his gaze focused on the tight leather contraption strapped on Malik’s forearm. A thin blade was attached to the underside of it, and that blade was for now extended along the man’s hand. Altair had never seen anything even close to it outside of video games.
What kind of game did Malik think he was playing?
Possibly feeling Altair’s gaze on his weapon, Malik reached with his good hand, and touched something on his wrist. The blade quietly slid back into its sheath. Malik glared at Altair, as though daring him to ask about it.
Altair tried to convinced himself he really didn’t want to know, although questions burned his tongue. Better not to get involved any more than he already was.
He opened the first aid kit and grabbed all the gauzes he could find, along with bandages and antiseptics. It wouldn’t be enough. Malik was bleeding a lot, and now that he’d taken out his coat, Altair could see how badly mangled his shoulder looked.
“Stop staring and get to work,” Malik grumbled.
“I’m not a doctor.” Altair looked at the gauzes in his hand dubiously. “But I’ll do what I can.”
“Just do it.”
“Right.”
Altair did his best to apply pressure to the wounds—it seemed Malik had been hit at least twice that he could see—despite Malik’s curses and hisses of pain. He ended up throwing away the first several gauzes after they soaked with blood in the first few seconds, and using the rest of them to pad both side of Malik’s shoulders. He then bandaged everything. He remembered taking a first aid class once that said to immobilize a wounded arm or leg, and so he did, using the bandages and a sling he found in the kit to do so.
“Here, all done. That’s the best I could do with what I have.”
“Hmph.”
Altair shrugged and went to wash the blood off his hands in the aviary’s sink. He was almost done when a series of impatient knocks broke the silence, loud as gunshot. Altair froze and stared at the door. Malik hissed, “No one can know I’m here.”
That would be hard to do considering the aviary was small, the single exit was blocked by whoever stood outside, and Malik’s blood was all over the floor.
A second series of knocks, more aggressive than the first, rattled the door. On the other side, Altair heard at least two men discuss in low voices. Quickly, he looked around the room, trying to come up with a brilliant idea. His eyes fell on Ivan. “This might just work,” he muttered, then turned to Malik. “Stay out of sight, I’ll take care of it.”
Malik gave him what had to be the world’s most suspicious glare, but he moved out of sight of the door, to the spot behind the falcon’s cage where he’d been hiding when Altair arrived. Altair grabbed his falconer’s glove, put it on, and then grabbed Ivan from his perch. The eagle squawked in protest at the rough handling and tried to peck at his hand. For once, Altair didn’t mind having the eagle unnerved, as it would serve his purpose.
“Open that door,” a man yelled from outside. “We know you’re in there.”
“I’m coming! Stop pounding on the door, you’re scaring my birds,” Altair called back in his grumpiest voice.
He took Ivan’s hood off, annoying the eagle further, and opened door just as it flapped its wing, trying to lunge off his hand. Altair was holding the lead tighty, though, and the eagle got nowhere.
“What?” he snapped as he closed the door behind him.
He faced two men dressed as airport security. One was an indifferent white, but the second… Just like the men around the plane earlier, the second man was a threatening red.
His tightening grip on the lead had Ivan flapping his wing again, and the sight of the eagle made the two men take a wary step back. Just as Altair hoped it would.
“What does airport security want with me?” he continued. “My badge is still up to date.”
The white man talked first. “We’re looking for an armed man on the run. We think he might be wounded. He attempted to kill a passenger and is considered extremely dangerous.”
Altair did his best to look both surprised and worried. “Armed man? How hasn’t airport security stopped him yet?”
Red spat, “It’s what we’re doing, wise guy. Now, let us inside.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I let the falcons out of their cage to clean and they’re aggressive toward strangers. Your pounding hasn’t helped and now they’re agitated.”
Unseen by his two interlocutors, he tapped Ivan tail feathers with the tip of one finger, and the eagle squawked and stretched its wings in annoyance.
“It’s… not dangerous, is it?” white asked, nervous.
“Ivan’s an eagle. What do you think?” Altair glared at the two men.
Red took a step forward, menacing, and Altair’s heart started speeding up. He simply couldn’t let the men step inside the aviary and see the blood on the floor. Why he was trying so hard to hide Malik’s presence, he didn’t know. He only knew that red was dangerous, and he couldn’t be allowed to get his hands on Malik.
“The aviary’s small,” he snapped, trying to sound irritated instead of anxious. “Don’t you think I’d know if someone was hiding inside?”
He held red’s glare as Ivan continued squawking and ruffling its feather nervously. “Now, I need to get back inside before Ivan decides to start biting. If you’ll excuse me.”
White sounded more relieved than annoyed when he said, “If you see anything suspicious, call security.” Ivan had made quite an impression on him, it would seem.
“Of course,” Altair replied smoothly.
Red gave Altair another suspicious scowl, but white shook his head and pointed back at the tarmac and the private plane still stopped there. “Let’s go,” he said. Red followed him, grudgingly it appeared, but he left nonetheless. Altair waited until they were out of earshot to sigh in relief.
“Well, Ivan, let’s get you back inside,” he told the eagle.
Ivan squawked and lunged for Altair’s unprotected hand. Although Altair tried to avoid it, the eagle’s beak left a bloody gash on top of his forearm.
“Merde,” he cursed in french, but he’d deliberately riled up the eagle, so it was only payback that Ivan would let him know he hadn’t appreciated it. “I guess I deserved that,” Altair muttered.
And now, of course, he was out of gauze to take care of the wound. He sighed. It figured.
He slid the hood back on Ivan’s head very carefully, before walking back into the aviary. He made sure to close the door behind him as soon as he stepped inside.
The first thing Altair saw once his eyes adjusted for the relative darkness inside was Malik with Altair’s messenger bag at his feet and talking on his cellphone in a low voice.
Altair caught only a few words of the conversation, and those few words didn’t tell him much. “Right. I’ll make it,” Malik was saying, and then, “Time to go,” when he saw Altair. He ended the call and dropped Altair’s cell in his bag.
“I see you found my cellphone,” Altair said tartly.
Malik shrugged his one good shoulder.
“What was this about? Who are those guys?”
“Airport security?”
Altair glared at Malik. That’s not what he meant, and they both knew it. Malik was being obtuse. “Not just airport security. There is more to it.”
Malik’s gaze sharpened at this, although he said nothing. Altair began to fidget. He’d said too much, and he couldn’t explain why he knew without sounding completely insane. To hide his sudden discomfort, he busied himself settling Ivan down on his perch and making sure the eagle would be alright for the rest of the day.
Still he couldn’t let it go. He needed answers from Malik. Needed to know that hiding him was the right thing to do. “Does it have anything to do with that private plane and the people there?”
After a moment, Malik shook his head. “I can’t answer this. The less you know, the safer you are, believe me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“But it’s the only one you’ll get.”
Altair ground his teeth not to curse and bit out, “I feel like I should know why I’m risking my job here. Hell, why I’m risking being arrested by the police for protecting a criminal on the run.”
“I’m not a criminal,” Malik replied, stung.
“Then, what are you? That… hidden blade thing on your arm—” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it outside of that video game series…”
He was irritated with himself. What was he trying to imply? That Malik took himself for a video game character, which would make Malik’s grip on reality more than a little shaky. Or that, somehow, the video game was real, which would bode badly for Altair’s sanity.
Neither hypothesis sat well with him.
“We hide in plain sight,” Malik said, breaking the silence.
“Huh?”
“How better to hide in plain sight than make your own people such a part of pop culture than no one would take rumors of your existence seriously?”
Altair stared at Malik, and Malik held his gaze, his expression giving nothing. He had to be kidding, Altair thought, just as Malik concluded, “Or maybe I’m just an insane criminal.” He smirked.
“That isn’t helping.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.” Malik grunted when he got back to his feet. “Now, I need your help again.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to drive me out of the airport’s grounds. You’re an employee here, which mean you can come in and out.”
Altair bit his lower lip, thinking fast. “There’s no way I can get you out. If they’re searching for you, the police will have closed all the exits by now.”
Malik barked a laugh. “I very much doubt the police has been called. They won’t want the authorities involved.”
“They? Who are they?”
“Again, I can’t answer that.”
Altair threw his hands up in the air. “Fine,” he snapped. “I just hope I don’t get in trouble for this.”
“Get me out of here, and your involvement with me will end.”
If Malik said so. Altair moved to the aviary’s little window and looked out. He half-expected those two airport security agent to be observing it from afar, but he saw no one.
“The way’s clear. I’ll pull the car around.”
Malik opened his mouth, possibly to protest Altair’s order, and Altair glared at him. “You’re as conspicuous as a bloody nose. Stay inside for now. If I’d wanted to sell you out, I would have simply let those two guards search the aviary.”
Malik glowered back at him, but Altair didn’t care. At this point, all he wanted was to get the wounded man away from the airport and out of his hair. Not waiting for Malik’s approval, he left the aviary. He stopped by the bird sanctuary’s car to grab the big canvas sheet that was always kept in the back seat. It wasn’t much of a cover, but it would have to do. His own hatchback didn’t even have a trunk where Malik could hide.
He hurried to his car and and drove it around to the aviary’s door. He parked as close as he could. Before he could get out and get Malik from inside, the man walked out the door and, hunched over so the small car would offer cover, he opened the passenger door and slipped in the back. He didn’t need Altair to give him instructions to know what to do with the sheet. He knelt between the seats and pulled it over his head. It made for an unwieldy bulge, but was too visible, especially since Altair’s backseat was already full of knickknacks.
The drive was spent in tense silence, punctuated only by the sound of droplets rain falling and the occasional swipe of the wipers.
“We’re arriving at the gate,” Altair said after a few minutes.
Malik made no sound other than a small grunt. Realizing he was clutching the wheel so tightly his knuckles had bleached, Altair tried to relax his posture somewhat. True to Malik’s prediction, no police cars waited at the exit, and everything appeared calm enough. If not for the fact those two airport security officers had knocked on his door not fifteen minutes ago—and the fact Malik was hiding in the back—Altair might think nothing was wrong.
This only made the whole situation more bizarre.
He braked when he reached the security guard’s booth. He recognized the man as one of the regular employees he met everyday. He was reassuringly white. Altair raised a hand in greeting, and rolled down his window.
“Hey Altair,” the guard called out. “Done with your shift already?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated a moment, before asking, “I saw a commotion back by the tarmac. Any idea what’s it about?”
The guard shrugged. “No. Lost baggage maybe.”
“Hmmm.”
So, the guard knew nothing. Stranger and stranger. Not that he would complain if that meant leaving without being stopped.
“Oh well, I’m off. I’ve been up all night and my bed’s calling.”
The guard laughed and raised the barrier, allowing Altair to drive through. As soon as they were out, Malik spoke. “Drive to the corner of Ryan Avenue and Riddle Street. A black sedan should be waiting there.”
Altair nodded, then realized Malik couldn’t see him and said out loud, “Right.”
He kept looking in his back mirror while he drove, but there were no indication that he was followed. It didn’t help his paranoia much, but he did finally relax when he got in sight of the street corner and saw a black sedan parked there, waiting, just as Malik has indicated. Its windows were tinted in such a way that it was impossible to see whoever sat inside.
“Your ride’s there,” Altair told Malik.
“Stop your car behind it,” Malik instructed, and Altair did so.
No movement came from the parked sedan. Altair had expected someone to get out to help Malik, but it looked like Malik didn’t. Hissing in pain and cursing under his breath in Arabic, he extracted himself out of his hiding spot between the seats and opened the car door to get out. Altair looked out with some worry as Malik wobbled on his feet, having to hold on to the car’s door to stay upright. Still no one reacted in the sedan.
Altair rolled the passenger window down. “Will you… be ok?” he asked Malik.
“Yeah.” He started walking but stopped at the passenger window. “Now, go home and forget you ever saw me.”
Altair snorted. “Not likely.”
“It’s better that way. I promise you won’t be bothered again.”
Without looking back, Malik made his way to the sedan. When he reached it, the back door opened and he got in. No sooner had the door closed again that the car accelerated away, leaving Altair alone with his questions and a bloodied tarp he now needed to dispose of. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. What a day.