Too Close for Comfort
--EKB
The night was still and quiet a few hours past sunset. Somewhere along the outermost fringes of Istanbul, a solitary light burned and illuminated the lone window of a small shotgun house that would have been otherwise unremarkable. Indeed, to unknowing passers-by, the tiny structure blending in amongst dilapidating shops and graffiti might have been just another residence in the bordering slums of the city. Therein lay the objective. Given their current circumstances, it would have paid for the inhabitants of the house not to be inconspicuous.
Sitting at the small table in the makeshift kitchen, Katib bin Mohammed sat, weary eyes halfheartedly skimming the front page headlines of that morning's local tribune. One in particular caught his immediate attention: "Car Explodes Outside Grand Bazaar." The subtitle, "Twelve killed, dozens injured." Among the casualties, the story reported, was a group of prominent Syrian businessmen whose identities were not mentioned. That in itself was fortunate. For now, at least, the mission at hand would not be compromised, and the man that Katib guarded would remain safe.
In the bedroom adjoining the kitchen, Asad bin Taysr slept. The painkillers that the Egyptian doctor had prescribed were potent. Asad had slept for the better part of the afternoon--the sort of deep, non-stirring sleep that had Katib checking on him by the hour just out of caution. Asad slept, for lack of a better cliché, like the dead. And perhaps, Katib thought, it was better that way. Asad needed to rest, and nothing short of being completely incapacitated was going to keep the man down.
The explosion and resulting head trauma had left Asad dazed, disoriented--though Katib knew it could have been worse. Much worse. It was by the grace of God that Asad had escaped with his life.
The newspaper report had ruled the car explosion an "accident," and while suspicious, stated that the police did not believe that terrorism was involved. Katib had his doubts. While Asad bin Taysr was the organization's third in command, a man feared and respected in many circles, he was also a man who wielded great power--and there would always be those who envied that sort of power. Katib didn't rule out the notion of a dissenter within their own ranks, one who might seek to gain influence by eliminating Asad and usurping his position. A dull ember of rage burned deep in the pit of Katib's stomach at the thought.
If there was a traitor, any man at all who would do Asad harm, Katib would hunt him down like the dog that he was. The end he would meet at Katib's hand would be, by no means, quick or painless.
He shoved the notion forcefully aside. There were more pressing issues at hand and presently, it sounded as if Asad might be trying to stir. From the adjoining room came the soft rustle of bed sheets, followed by a low groan. Katib raised an eyebrow, set the paper down on the table and raised his eyes.
"Sheik, what are you doing out of bed?"
A disheveled Asad stood in the doorway, looking almost as though he, himself, weren't quite sure how he had ended up there. Instantly, Katib was out of his chair, moving toward the door.
"I was just getting a glass of water. The last pill wore off and I need another." He was surprisingly lucid for a man who was heavily medicated.
"How many of those have you taken? You aren't supposed to take more than six."
"Then, this one will be my sixth." Asad attempted a step forward into the kitchen, and promptly faltered. Katib caught the diminutive man around the waist, supporting him with one strong arm.
"You should be in bed," Katib told him. "I'll get you a glass of water."
"I'm not an invalid. I can get it myself."
"You need to rest." Katib countered, matter-of-factly. "Either you can go back to bed on your own, or I can carry you back myself."
"I'm fine," Asad protested, even as Katib turned him gently and ushered him back to his room. He plunked down on the mattress, the expression on his face more of a pout that lacked the intended effect of a glare. Despite Asad's obvious indignity, Katib was satisfied.
"Thank you, my prince," he said gently. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No," replied Asad. "Thank you." Katib nodded and disappeared. He returned a moment later with a tall glass of water, handing it to Asad. He watched as Asad took a sip and downed the large white pill in his hand. "Thank you," Asad said again, setting the glass back on the nightstand.
"Are you comfortable? Anything at all you need, Asad, just name it."
Asad's dark eyes were heavy, clouding with sleep again as he peered over the thin rims of his glasses to look at Katib.
"Stay with me?"
"Of course."
Katib eased down on the mattress next to Asad, and his pulse quickened involuntarily as the other man shifted into him, his head finding the crook of his shoulder. Katib exhaled shakily; he was suddenly acutely aware of Asad's hand sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, resting on his ribcage.
"How is your head?" He took to stroking Asad's back, running a hand soothingly up and down his spine.
"It hurts," answered Asad, almost childishly. "But I thank God it was not worse--I am lucky to be alive."
"I know," replied Katib grimly. The thought had crossed his mind more than once over the course of that day. He took a deep breath, exhaling it shakily. "There are few things that I fear in this world, Asad. But when I saw them drag you out of the back of that car, saw you on the sidewalk in a pool of blood, I--" He pulled Asad to him tighter, wanting--needing--to feel him close, as close as was humanly possible. "I was certain I'd lost you. And I've never been more terrified of anything in my life." Katib felt Asad sigh softly, felt him shift his weight again and suddenly, the two were face to face, their noses practically touching.
"One of the things they say about me," declared Asad with a smirk, "is that I am one of the most resourcefully resilient men in this organization. It would take a lot more than some ill-placed explosives to kill me. And that which does not kill you, makes you stronger."
"You know I would do anything to protect you," Katib whispered fiercely. "I would kill for you. I would die for you without a second thought."
"I know," Asad said with a smile. "And I thank you for it."
His kiss was warm and tender as his words, lips lingering softly against Katib's for a long moment. As Katib held tightly to Asad, as if he clung desperately to his own survival, he realized that Asad was his survival, the man's cause his very life. When they parted, Katib gazed deeply into the eyes of the man that was both his only weakness and his greatest strength.
"Asad?"
"Yes?" Asad peered back at Katib with questioning eyes.
"I love you. More than anything."
"I know," Asad said simply, with a tired smile. Then, "Today has been difficult for both of us. You should rest as well."
Conversation ceased. Asad settled into Katib's strong arms once more, his head coming to rest against his broad chest. Sleep came quickly as the pain pill took its effect.
Katib stayed awake, watching him. One hand flitted over Asad's dark head, fingers lightly stroking his hair.
He couldn't stave off a rush of emotion--adoration and the will to protect Asad, hatred and the desire to exact revenge on those who would do him harm. It was a noxious cocktail of mismatched feelings, one that left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a twisting sensation in his gut. The bastards who had done this, they were going to pay for it. He, himself, would see to that. For now, Katib would stay by Asad and sleep. Retribution, or anything like it, would have to wait until morning.
He reached over, killed the light on the nightstand and positioned himself comfortably, all without disturbing Asad's slumbering form. Within minutes, he, too, was asleep.
FIN