A/N: I'm not really sure how Mahad came to be like Raj from the Big Bang Theory with regards to women, but...what the hell. I'm going with it.

Chapter III

It had been four weeks, almost to the day, when Kisara received the most unexpected phone call of her life. She'd just gotten off at her stop on the way home from work when she'd felt that only-too-familiar buzzing coming from her bad. She attempted to grab it as she fumbled with her purse, her bag that held her work uniform, and a large box of baked goods that she'd been sent home with free of charge. It had been something of a kind gesture from her manager for putting up with a rather horrific afternoon.

When she finally found her way around her baggage, she slid open her phone and answered with a somewhat exasperated-sounding 'Hello.' The voice that replied was neither Mana, Mahad, nor her boss- the only three people that ever called.

Before she had a chance to ask questions, the man on the other end of the line hurriedly introduced himself and began rattling off an array of information. Kisara couldn't have kept up if she had tried, but she did hear the most important sentence out of his mouth:

"...being selected as one of the top five finalists in the amateur design contest..."

Dumbstruck, the remainder of the phone call consisted of the man (his name escaped her) relaying various forms of contact information while she struggled to reply with the occasional 'Uhuh' or 'Yessir.' He'd tried to give her phone numbers and email addresses, but they had each gone in one ear and out the other. She did, at least, catch something about coming down to the office to sign some paperwork the following week- a Wednesday. This was, in part, due to the fact that this announcement was one of the few moments in the conversation the man had waited for her to reply.

"Oh, of course. What kind of paperwork?", she asked, somewhat timidly.

"It's just for legal purposes..." He had assured her. "Your payment for your design submissions, if selected...Things of that nature. You should be receiving your official invitation to the offices by mail sometime in the next few days."

With that statement, it finally hit Kisara that this was actually happening. She was a mere four people away from a rather impressive resume booster as well as a potentially nice sum of money that could be placed towards her college fund. Suddenly, the possibility before her was positively mesmerizing. She felt her heart reacing with excitement.

As soon as the phone call ended, Kisara found herself racing away from her post at the train stop towards home as fast as her legs could carry her. Though part of her brain told her not to get too hopeful just yet, she simply couldn't help it. She was ecstatic. This was the first real opportunity that had been within reach in...well, forever. She had to tell Mahad and, of course, Mana would want to hear about the phone call as well. She knew her friend would feel, in part, responsible for this partial victory.

When she reached the door to her apartment, she paused for a moment to catch her breath. She rummaged through her bag for he keys and opened the door, her insides tumbling around with the news she was about to share. When she made her way into the kitchen, however, she found that no one was home.

"Where is he?", she asked herself aloud as she took off her shoes by the door and began to set her things down on the near, side table.

Her eyes caught sight of a scrap of paper covered in his usual tiny, scraggly handwriting. It was from Mahad.

staying late tonight at the museum
leftovers are in the fridge
dont worry and dont wait up... M

Kisara let a deep sigh escape her as she set the note aside and headed for the fridge. True to his word, Mahad had left her a container of his 'infamous' home-made sweet chicken, which she found herself dearly thankful for later. By the time she had unpacked her things and changed into something more comfortable, her anxious stomach had turned into a hungry one. She ate dinner in silence taking glances at the news headlines from the day, the flicker of the muted TV reflecting off the refrigerator door.

When she was done, she sent Mana a quick message to see what her friend was up to that night, but she received no reply. It was a Friday night, so this hadn't come as much of a surprise. Still, she felt a small stab of disappointment.

Figures.

Without much else to do, Kisara got ready for bed early and, eventually, found herself lying on the couch, curled up in an old blanket, flipping through the channels. The channels drifted to an unfamiliar western, but Kisara's attention had drifted elsewhere. She reached down and pulled out a dusty sketchbook from underneath the couch. A pen dangled from one of the rings of the folder, tied to it with twine. She flipped through the pages until she reached one that was empty and then settled back into the cushions and began to draw.

Kisara wasn't sure how long she sat there working. She wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep until Mahad had returned home late that night. He had gently woken her and guided her to her room. She faintly recalled the glow of the TV as she'd been pushed towards her bedroom. She heard a faint "Don't forget your medicine." as she moved through the dark. The western that had been playing as she'd drifted off had been replaced with some romantic comedy while she had been out.

When she awoke the next morning, an unusually smiley Mahad and a nice, hot breakfast greeted her. In truth, the pleasant smell was what had awoken her in the first place. He'd made rice and some hot soup and had been busy getting ready for his day when her nose and stomach had forced herself out of her bedroom. Her roommate seemed exceptionally awake, especially after his late night, Kisara was more than a little curious about his peculiar behavior. By all accounts, if she were him, she would have still been in bed.

"So, I know you don't have to be at work today. It's Saturday. Care to explain what all this is about?", Kisara asked him, motioning to unusual breakfast spread and his unusually sharp appearance.

"Well, good morning to you, too.", Mahad replied sarcastically, still going about his morning routine.

His nonchalant response caused her to roll her eyes at him as she stirred her spoon around in her soup, giving it time to cool. She knew Mahad better than anyone. That meant she knew he was up to something. Mahad would never pull out some of his best clothes for a typical Saturday. In fact, there were Saturdays where he wouldn't even pull out real clothes at all.

In their history together, those Saturdays were always announced with an adamant proclamation: No one was to do anything all day and that included getting dressed. When she had still been in school and he had been working multiple part-time jobs to keep them afloat, Mahad had occasionally gone out of his way to declare such days of laziness. Each one came as a much-awaited reward from the busy and sometimes almost unbearable days that had come before. Her life had changed so much since the day she'd met him.

All on account of some silly fireworks...,

The story sounded so childish to her now, but then again she had been a child, after all. Even so, it was her story and she loved it.

She still remembered waking up to the white walls and bright fluorescents of that tiny hospital room. There, sitting across from her, sat a wide-eyed, nervous-looking teenager, his long, brown hair dangling into his eyes. He'd been at a complete loss for words, but after his attempt at an apology (for what, she never really knew), the two had talked for what seemed like hours. One of the nurses had eventually been forced to chase him off so that Kisara could get some rest. He had come back every day after that, as soon as school would allow. When she'd been released to one of the local orphanages, he had come for her, too. That was the day she'd asked him if she could call him her 'Big Brother' to which he'd sheepishly replied with a 'Sure'.

While she rarely called him that anymore (to his face, at least), she still felt deeply attached to her role as his 'younger sister' and, as such, it was her job to pry.

"So, what's she like?", Kisara blurted out as she took her first bite of her soup.

The directness of her question caused Mahad to trip over his own feet. In his response, he marched his way over to the table and stared her straight in the face.

"Not a she. An it.", he replied, defiantly.

"Oh, so you've officially given up on women now?", Kisara asked, smirking back at him.

"No!", he retorted, pausing to collect his thoughts. He then added, somewhat hesitantly. "That's just...not what this is about."

"Mhmm.", Kisara replied sarcastically, finishing the last of her soup.

Seeing her clear disbelief, Mahad decided to let her in on his secret.

"The 'It' I was referring to is a new collection that's being delivered to the museum this morning. It's flying in directly from Cairo. It'll be the first time some of these pieces have ever been on tour, so everything is being kept very hush-hush. We were finishing up some of the last minute preparations last night, which is why I was so late."

"Ah! Well, that explains your excitement, but not your wardrobe.", she teased.

"I'm getting to it...", he replied, faux-frustration in his voice. "As the newest assistant researcher, I don't get to dive right in to the goods just yet. No, no...I've been assigned to meet the collection's curator at the airport and give him a tour of town while everyone else gets to see the collection."

"So, you're supposed to make a good first impression. I get it now.", she replied with a smile.

"Exactly. Apparently, being the newest on the team is the equivalent of drawing the short straw."

"Oh, you're very personable when you want to be. I'm sure you two will get along great. And, maybe since you're the first one he'll really meet, you'll get some VIP privileges out of it.", she encouraged with a wink.

"That would be nice."

His excitement had settled into a more nervous tension, but Kisara wasn't particularly concerned. She knew that he would be a fine tour guide and, even if he was disappointed that he didn't get the first look at the collection pieces, she doubted that he wouldn't benefit from his afternoon in some form or fashion. Mahad had a certain air of diplomacy when he needed it. Kisara actually doubted that he'd drawn the so-called short straw at all.

While she finished her breakfast, Mahad filled her in on the rest of the details. Rising political tensions overseas had made the curator eager to have the collection sent on tour. The curator had chosen to travel with the pieces and continue his research. The research team at the museum had placed a bid as soon as the offer had hit the international level and, amazingly, their bid had been accepted just days later. Mahad even believed that most places had not even gotten the chance to make an offer before the paperwork had been completed. While he clearly thought it a little odd, the excitement of the entire affair seemed to push his initial concern away.

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding its arrival, the collection was a huge opportunity for the team, including Mahad. Since the curator's research on the collection hadn't yet concluded, there was even a small chance that he could get himself involved and, if that happened, the possibilities became endless. He could be published. He could become famous. He could even get to travel.

Thus, Mahad was determined to make the best first impression possible. When he was ready to leave, Kisara had looked him over, given her approval, and wished him good luck. When the door closed behind him, Kisara realized that she hadn't even looked for an opportunity to share her good news; however, she wasn't bothered by it.

It can wait.

Perhaps when the topic finally came up, she would be able to share that not only was she one of the finalists, she was the winner.