Nadia held close to her, letting her tears fells on his clothing. She clung to him, never to let go. Her heart pounded deep in her chest, ready to explode with joy.
"I will never let you go again," she whispered. His hand was on her shoulder, shaking it, shaking, shaking…
"Mommy!" She pushed aside the curtains of sleep, and felt for the hand of her daughter.
"Mommy, I had a nightmare." Tears left wet streaks on the little girls face. Nadia held the child, singing softly. The girl's eyes fluttered, and closed, and soon she was breathing deeply, fast asleep.
Nadia carried her back to her bedroom. The house was the peaceful dark of night. It wrapped around her, like a quilt. It was a comforting darkness, not the terrible ones she had endured in Iraq.
Nadia knew she could not return to sleep. She walked into the bathroom, every footstep silent; there were some habits that you never broke.
She turned on the light and examined her reflection. It struck her that she was looking at the new Nadia, the American Nadia. But was the American Nadia so very different? The dark circles beneath her eyes had faded, and she had gained weight. She looked healthy, but she felt empty within.
She looked through the cabinets and took out a small bundle. It was a strip of cloth, embroidered in fanciful designs. She gently unfolded the cloth and gazed down at her treasures. The only bits of her culture she had dared to bring from her homeland. Her mother's hairbrush, a rag doll, a bit of cloth from her father's store, things that made her heart burn.
Nadia removed the hairbrush and replaced the bundle. She fingered the bristles, nearly all gone now. She ran the brush through her hair, humming quietly to herself.
Someone knocked softly on the bathroom door. She set the brush down and opened the door. It was Eric, her husband.
"Nadia, it's one AM. What are you doing?"
"Sherri could not sleep. She had a nightmare." Nadia's English was slow, and deliberate. "I could not return to sleep."
He winked at her, and smiled. Eric wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her neck.
"Come back to bed then," he snaked a bold hand into her bath robe, pressing warm fingers against her flesh.
She opened her mouth to protest. Images of Sayid and Sherri flashed through her mind. She knew she owed this man so much. He held her prisoner, with chains stronger than those of the Republican Guard.
This man had saved her life and the life of the bastard child. But most importantly, he had saved Sayid.
Suddenly, she knew what made the new Nadia different. The old Nadia had been truly free. She looked out the window. Her hand ached where the Republican Guard had drilled through her hand, telling her there would be a storm.
She let Eric pull her through the door to their bedroom.