Hours passed and it was Bryan's moaning that pierced the silence. He looked beside him and saw Zafina's eyes still closed and her mouth set in a straight line. His finger neared her ear and flicked the earring that hung from it.

She awakened with a stir. Even in bed, she was a remarkable sight.

"Sabah il-kheer," he said to her.

"Sabah in-nur," she mumbled back with a grin, reaching over to him."Let me see your hand."

"Eh, what for?"

"Just do it," she asked without sounding too demanding. Bryan let her take his hand and enwrap it in her warmth. Zafina traced the lines in his calloused palm with her fingernail. "I see...strength of character." She smiled at him and her eyes fell on his scarred flesh before rubbing it. "Does it hurt?"

"It always hurts," he looked across to her, "but not anymore."

Zafina grinned again.

She was the antiseptic to his every wound and every sting had its own reward.

"From the day we met, I have felt you suffering, Bryan. You suffer just like me, and I cannot pretend anymore."

He turned away from her. "Your pain is different from mine."

"No, I assure you, it is shared."

Before Bryan could react, he glanced at the light shining into the room, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and cursed.

Zafina cocked an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

Wide-awake, he jumped out of bed and hurried in putting his uniform back on.

"Christ! I was supposed to be back at the base!"

Amazing how one night with a woman could make him forget his priorities so fast.

Zafina crawled out of bed and sorted through her own clothes in haste. "I should have been on my way out by now."

Bryan fumbled with his attire and equipment and rushed to the door. "They've probably been trying to call me since yesterday."

"Are you going to leave me?" came Zafina's voice behind him.

"I have to get back. My squad doesn't know where I'm at right now."

Bryan didn't want to leave her, not now, not ever. Yet, he had to return to his base. He knew he had better have a good excuse for disappearing without notice. Right now, he had nothing, but he could figure out something on the way back.

Bryan and Zafina left together, darting toward their destinations. She trailed behind him as he escorted her to the restaurant. He was in more of a rush than she was. Before they could reach the restaurant, Bryan felt something overpower and drive him to the ground. He struggled under the immense weight and looked up to find three of his comrades from his squad restraining him.

"Hey, get off me! Get off me!" he screamed at them, but they held on.

His squad leader towered over him, eyes bloodshot and voice firm. "Where've you been, Fury? We've been trying to reach you through to you since yesterday and we haven't gotten anything from you. Did you know our squad was attacked last night? Do you realize four of our men are in critical condition right now?"

"Sir, I--"

"Save it!" he snapped. "We all ready know what's going on. Glenn told us everything."

Bryan gave his squad mate an accusing glare.

"Sorry man, but I couldn't just lie to them when they asked," Glenn said with a guilt-ridden look plastered across his face.

Bryan wanted to rip the man's head off, but as he strained to free himself, the hold his squad mates had on him only grew tighter.

"Bryan," his squad leader began, "you're under arrest."

They stood Bryan on his feet and hauled him away like a convict. He turned to Zafina and saw her peeking around the wall she'd hid behind, her face tense with displeasure. She'd saw the whole thing and she couldn't do anything about it.

No longer able to fight his restraints, Bryan watched her one last time before she faded from view.

He'd messed up big time and he knew it. Bryan was back home on US soil, not as a hero but as a felon. For his sentence, he faced imprisonment; desertion was the charge. If this were the nineteen-forties, he might've received the death penalty for his actions. Death didn't sound like much with what he was about to endure.

He sat in a cramped cell, forced to eat meals that made his belly ache and the bile rise in his throat. The plain, rusted walls seemed to close in on him by the hour and it irritated him.

Despite his unfortunate position, he still thought of her. She was the only thing that kept him wanting to live. He could still picture her swaying to the crisp, clear sound of her sājāt as she clinked them together with her wondered where she was and what she was doing now as he sat slumped in a corner. He craved for her lips, plump and juicy as a fresh pitaya. What he wouldn't do to see a shimmy or smell the fragrance of her jasmine-scented perfume again.

He'd overheard the war was over, but the news hadn't fazed him.

When his sentence was up, it was back to quiet suburban neighborhoods and good old bustling city living; back to mustard-drenched hotdogs and cheap alcohol; back to the life he'd left behind.

Even as he walked the Earth a free man, he didn't feel so. His friends and fellow soldiers shunned him and the government had stripped him of his civilian rights. He was older, tired and humbled, but he couldn't tell if he'd come out of that prison wiser. All Bryan's relatives were either dead or unwilling to associate with him, so it left him with nobody to rely on but himself.

The word "traitor" was synonymous with his name and he had to live with it. He'd turned his back on his country and defied some of the values that taught him what a soldier was all about. He wasn't there to help his comrades when he should've and it just made the guilt harder to bear.

The question plaguing his mind since his release remained: was one woman worth the dishonorable discharge and the five-year incarceration he'd suffered? Bryan couldn't answer that, and even more he pondered Zafina's status. Had she moved on and forgotten him? A lot could happen in five years, but he knew he'd do anything to see Zafina again.

The Army had forewarned him that any civilian was likely an enemy in disguise. Was this true of Zafina also? No, it just didn't seem so. A mental pang told him she wasn't the enemy and chastised him for even considering the thought.

He had to find out for himself what happened to her to end the suffering of not knowing. Maybe the idea was stupid, but he'd gone stupid since the day he met her.

He had no purpose left in America and he was without help. However, there was one person who hadn't cut him loose, one person he could still call.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number, hearing a ring.

"Hello?"

"Martin? It's Bryan."

"Fury…?"

"Yes. Remember that favor you told me about?"

He was back, welcomed by the sand on the ground and the hot air he'd grown familiar to.

Egypt wasn't his home, but he'd missed it like it was. Of course, he had no time waste. He remembered the route to Zafina's house and hurried there.

Bryan slowed his run to a jog and came to a stop. Nerves trembling, his jaw dropped and he fell to his knees at the sight before him.

Zafina's home was a mess of crumbled debris and charred wreckage. He sifted through the ruins and discovered some of the garments the belly dancer often wore marred by soot, dirt, and wrinkles.

He clenched his fists as they fell to the ground. She didn't deserve this, nobody did. War had taken her away from him and all he could think about was the day she admitted she was thankful they'd met. This was her punishment, her destruction, and it wasn't fair.

Bryan sat in the same spot for several minutes, silently cursing everyone and everything he felt was blameworthy for this tragedy.

The moment he stood to his feet, the feeling someone was watching his actions closeby overwhelmed him. He turned and saw Nailah staring at him with her signature scowl, carrying groceries.

"So you have returned," she said, not sounding surprised.

Bryan looked back at what remained of Zafina's house. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Months ago, long before the war ended. Sad how the Americans haven't repaired all the damages they have caused. Lots of people lost their homes...and their lives here."

He sighed.

"I know what you are thinking. She is not dead."

Bryan jerked his head up. "She's not?" He approached Nailah with an undeniable urge to grab and shake her. "Where is she then?"

"Calm yourself. She was not in the house when it was destroyed. Me and her had fled before that happened." The old woman cleared her throat. "I know where she is. I can take you to her."

Bryan's eyes widened, the cold sweat leaving him. He had no other choice; he had to trust her. "If you could, I would appreciate it." Nailah opted to lead the way, but before Bryan followed, he had to release the question gnawing at him. "How come you're helping me?"

"I am not doing this for you." She sneered. "I have known Zafina a long time and I have never heard her speak highly of any man in the way she speaks of you. She must see something special about you that I do not. All I care for is her happiness…even if it is with an American."

"Thanks…I guess."

Having said enough, Bryan resumed his pursuit.

It was a short walk to the house. Neilah had insisted they take a route where less people were likely to see them. Bryan couldn't see why that was necessary with the war over, but he complied. On the way, he espied the munaqabas shuffling through the streets and it left him curious as to how much Zafina might've changed.

The lump in Bryan's throat had expanded as he knocked on the wood-frame door. Nailah was behind him, waiting for someone to answer. He wondered if Zafina would recognize him or feel he'd changed too much over the years.

His wooly chin started to itch. He knew he shouldn't have skipped out on the shave.

The door stretched open with a creak and Bryan felt a sudden pull in the pit of his stomach. His eyes met with the woman's, her sullen face just as youthful and delicate as he remembered it. She was clad in an abaya, staring at him in stunned silence.

"Uh…hi," he managed in a casual tone despite the moment seeming anything but.

She said nothing.

"Mind if I come in?"

She inched away from the door and after he and Nailah stepped in, solitude was theirs.

"Bryan!" Zafina cried out and surprised him with a strong hug.

He returned the embrace. "Hey…I missed you."

"I missed you," she whispered, still in his arms.

Zafina had dismissed Nailah from the room. The old woman had appeared reluctant, but obeyed with her friend's plea.

Bryan explained to Zafina bit by bit about his time in prison. In return, she exchanged how the US government compensated her a new home and how she was looking to move anyway. She seemed happy to see him, but he couldn't help but sense there was more to her feelings than she was letting on.

"I thought they had locked you up forever and I would never see you again. I could not even do the one thing I love most when you were gone." She frowned. "I tried to move on, but I could not, because every man's face I saw reminded me of you."

"Really?"

"Yes. My family could not understand why I refused to allow any man to take me as their wife when they approached me. They heard about my feelings for you. Nailah let it slip and what they heard sickened them. They said I had shamed them, our family, and even Islam itself. They tried to get me to forget you and find someone else more like me."

Bryan shook his head.

"But I could not," she continued. "They kept saying, 'Look at what his people have done to our homes and our lives.' And I told them: 'I don't care. I don't care. I still love him!'" Tears started to well up in her eyes as she recalled everything without a sob. "Even Neilah did not want me with you and kept scolding me for liking you. It's just not fair. It's not fair, Bryan."

"It never is." He grumbled. She'd broken her traditions because of him and vice versa, and neither would get any peace from it.

"I prayed to Allah constantly like I had made a mistake, but you were not a mistake. The way I felt for you was genuine, and I feel that Allah is forgiving and understanding enough to agree that what I did and how I felt was not wrong." She embraced him again, unable to hold herself back. "I am sorry, Bryan. I blame myself for them taking you away. If…if you had never met me--"

"I wouldn't have had any reason to live. You're the best thing to have happened to me, Z." He cradled her head close to his chest. "But hey, everything's all right now. I'm here."

"Bryan… you know I am glad to see you again, but…but…"

"But?"

"…you should not have come back."

He pulled away from her. "'Shouldn't have come back'? Sorry, Z, I do a lot of things I shouldn't do. I went outta my way to see you again, so we could be together, y' know? "

"Your presence will only cause trouble if people see you with me. There will be threats, consequences."

"To hell with those punks!" His emotions boiled over like a pot of benzoic acid. "You once told me that every choice has consequences. Well, I paid for mine and you wanna know why I don't regret anything? Because, in spite of everything that's happened, one good thing came out of it—you! "

"If we were together, we would have to run and be private about it."

"So? What's wrong with that? I mean, who has to know?"

"You are not getting it, Bryan!" Her eyebrows started to furrow. "For a long time, I have had to conceal my face, my body, even my own life." She snorted. "Concealing our relationship would be just me concealing another aspect of my life."

"But—"

"I do not want to hide anymore, Bryan! I am sick of it. I want to be free and open, just like I am when I am dancing."

"Then why don't you come with me, Z? We can both be free together and it won't be a problem."

"I…cannot. A war is still going on between your people and mine, despite what the media thinks. I can feel it. As long as it continues, you and me…we cannot be together. Our people must learn to coexist, to stop their closing their minds and dictating our we should feel, how we should think. Maybe one day all this violence and racial tension will end. Maybe that day will come. Please, try to respect that, Bryan."

"But Z--"

"Bryan…." she urged.

Bryan groaned, but left it alone. He knew she was beyond persuading.

Before anybody said anything else, Bryan's attention focused on the door as he heard commotion from outside. "What the heck's going on?"

Nailah reappeared and peeked through the door. "We have company."

"Wallahi al-azim shoft amreeki dakhal al-beete dah! Wallahi al-azim shoft amreeki dakhal al-beete dah!" An angry man shouted from outside.

"I told you it wasn't over. Bryan, you have to leave before they come and kill you!" Zafina grabbed a niqāb and hurried in putting it on while heavy thuds sounded behind the door.

"What about you and her?" He gestured to Nailah after he helped them lock and barricade the door with tables.

"We shall be leaving too." The old woman veiled herself also and motioned to an alternate exit. "This way, hurry!"

They ran into an alley splitting into two different paths.

"It would be best if we split up." Nailah held onto Zafina. "Bryan, you go one way and we will go the other."

"Good idea." Bryan turned to the belly dancer and it dawned on him that this was their last moment. They shared a hug. He pulled down her niqāband kissed her, not wanting to pull away, but he forced himself to."It was nice to see you again." He smiled. "I assure you it won't be the last time."

"Fi Amanullah…." Zafina choked.

He didn't see this as goodbye, however. This was only temporary.

Bryan broke away from the huddle and ran with everything he had. As the feeling in his legs burned, he dared to look back at Zafina, who watched him as she ran with Nailah. They had their final glance.

The two women disappeared from around the corner and all ready he missed her.

Bryan smiled.

He knew they'd meet again, one way or another.

End

Author's Note: After months of hard work, the story's finally done! So…yeah. Junking and I were on the phone in July of last year talking about fanfic pairings and such. He pitched the idea of this fic to me and we both laughed at how silly it sounded at first and took it as a joke that would never happen. Then I thought, "Hey, it doesn't sound like a bad idea." So, yeah…there ya go. A big thanks goes out to Razer Athane for being a supportive friend, Junking for the idea and support, and everyone else who supported me on my hiatus. Thanks for reading, guys.

Glossary, cultural explanations, and translations

Kohl: A soft powder. It is a traditional eyeliner in the Middle East, including Egypt and India since ancient times. It darkens the eyelids and has become very popular because it is easy to apply and glides on easily.

Kushari: a cheap Egyptian food consisting of spaghetti, macaroni, rice, lentils, corn, fried onions, and a spicy tomato sauce

Chow hall: A cafeteria of a US military installation.

Harem: In Arabic, it refers to something that is considered forbidden. Alternate meaning refers to a house or a section of a house reserved for women members of a Muslim household. There's more to the word than what I explained, but that's all you need to know.

Bismillah: In the name of Allah (Used before praying, eating, etc).

Jazakallahu Khayran: May Allah reward you for the good (expression of thanks).

Sabah il-kheer: Good morning (morning of goodness).

Sabah in-nur: Reponse to "good morning" (morning of light).

Homma kol el-amreekan wehsheen zayyak kedah: Are all Americans as ugly as you are?

Laaah , dool awhash bekteer: Nah, they're a lot uglier.

Wallahi al-azim shoft amreeki dakhal al-beete dah: I swear I saw an American go in that house.

Misr: Means "country," but it's also the name the Egyptians use to refer to their country. Can also refer to Cairo.

Shista: A waterpipe used for smoking.

Abaya: An overgarment worn by women that covers the whole body except the feet, face, and hands. Traditionally, it is black.

Munaqaba: Veiled woman.

Niqāb: Veil that covers the whole face except for the eyes. Currently, women are allowed to wear them by choice in Egypt.

Fi Amanullah : May Allah protect you (by way of saying goodbye).

Allah: Arabicname for "God."

Raqs sharqi: Oriental dance. Belly dance is the Americanized term.

Bedlah: (Pronounced "Bed-luh".) In Arabic, this means "suit". It refers to the cabaret-style beaded bra/belt/skirt/body stocking costume that a belly dancer wears for a performance.

Beledi Dress. a long, floor-length dress, frequently used in belly dance costuming. After performing a raqs sharqi routine in bedleh, the dancer usually goes backstage and changes costumes, then comes out wearing a beledi dress to do a folkloric dance.

Raks al Assaya:means "dance of the cane."It is a feminine variation of the Raks al Tahtib (stick dance) that men in Egypt perform. The Saidi dance, which is usually used in raks al assaya, is from Upper Egypt, between Gizeh and Edfu. The Saidi people are upper Egyptian farmers. Usually a Saidi dance is lively, energetic and earthy. The dancer uses one or two sticks, originally made of bamboo. There are two types of Saidi stick dance: Raks Assaya and Tahtib. The word Tahtib means dancing with sticks and it is originally a kind of conflict with sticks between men to show their power.

Veil dancing: While Americans refer to the piece of fabric used as a "veil", it's important to note that Egyptians do not link the fabric prop to the hijjab (Muslim attire). Therefore, it's not exactly correct to refer to the prop carried by Egyptian Oriental dancers as a "veil" because that's not how they view it, culturally speaking. Egyptians view the fabric as an extension of their costume rather than a prop. Though Egyptians enter with the veil, it is not wrapped around their body, and it is not used in the same manner as the American style. The American version of unwrapping the veil is actually considered a strip tease move by some Arabs( because they are *taking something off*).

Etiquette: As a guest in an Arab home, it is customary to use the right hand when eating, passing, and accepting food and drinks, as well as making gestures like waving. The left hand is considered dirty, because traditionally it is used to clean oneself after using the rest room, so it isn't used. The soles of the feet are to be kept flat on the ground because they too are seen as filthy and to show them is disrespectful.

Belly dance moves featured in story ( for the dance enthusiasts): Snake arms, shimmy, saidi hop, belly roll.

Instruments

Sājāt: Finger cymbals.

Kaman: violin

Tabla: Drum

Kaneen: harp

Ney: Flute

Oud: lute