A/N: I do not own Ali or Mahmoud Hazr. They belong, as far as I know, to Laurie R King. I just happen to have a new obsession over Ali, who has caught my interest after the book Justice Hall. This is a fic on how Ali and Mahmoud in their earlier years in Palestine together. I know near to nothing about Middle Eastern culture besides what I've read out of O Jerusalem. Bear with me and please, if you have any insight, do not be slow to tell. Thanks very much
TS
Brothers
Written by: Takada Saiko
Chapter One
Alistair Hughenfort looked around him with eyes wide. Palestine was all he could remember it being from his brief time there nearly two years before. He'd been sent to fetch Marsh then and he'd been sent to find his wayward cousin once again, though two years older and – in Alistair's mind – two years wiser. He smiled to himself as he drummed his fingers rapidly against the railing of the small ship. They would dock; he would remove himself quickly and meet Marsh where they had agreed. It was simple, was it not? Nothing was ever simple in the East.
Dock the ship did, and Alistair left as planned. He ran a hand through his naturally dark hair and blinked against the sun. "Beautiful."
"Isn't it?"
The nearly nineteen year old turned to see his cousin standing behind him. Only, it wasn't his cousin. The man that stood behind him that had spoken with Marsh Hughenfort's voice was the same height and same build as Marsh Hughenfort, but his skin was swarthy and hidden behind a dark beard and loose cloth over his head, but the eyes were what gave Alistair his confidence back. A grin spread across the young man's lips as his cousin's name formed on them.
"Ali." That single word stopped him dead. "In this place," he said in hushed tones, "I am Mahmoud Hazr. For the same reason I asked you to stain your face."
Alistair reached to his dyed face, remembering for the first time in a while that it was, in fact, stained much darker than its natural hue. "You failed to tell me the reason for that as well."
"Because here, I am Mahmoud Hazr. The name Hughenfort means nothing amongst the sand."
Alistair nodded. "It is good to see you-" he paused for a moment, thinking and trying to pronounce it just as the other had – "Mahmoud."
"And you, Ali. Come, we must be off."
Alistair followed, his eyes wide with excitement. A deal had been struck with the eccentric Marsh Hughenfort – no, not Marsh, Mahmoud Hazr - when he had longed to return to wherever he might have disappeared to before. Alistair would follow him while on his holiday, spending time with him and making sure he was getting himself into no trouble. Little had Gerald Hughenfort known that his son's best friend and cousin would be just as enchanted by the Holy Lands as the Duke's second son.
Night had begun to fall and Mahmoud ushered his younger cousin into what would have been considered a shack or less than that by any of their family back in England, but to Alistair, it represented the freedom that Mahmoud had promised him.
"Is this home?" the younger man asked in uncertainty.
"The desert is home."
Alistair nodded, taking it all in. "I don't know what to say," he whispered.
"Then say nothing," Mahmoud responded, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "A feat for you, I know."
Alistair began to give an indignant response, but quickly shut his mouth. His dark eyes watched as Mahmoud worked together a small fie and appeared to be making some sort of odd coffee over it, though slower than he'd ever seen.
"I left clothes for you there," the elder man said at last. "You will change into them."
"Of course," Alistair stammered, slightly taken aback by his cousin's commanding voice. He shuffled himself over to the clothes that Mahmoud had indicated and held them up, distaste clear on his clean-shaven features. "They're so dull."
Mahmoud cocked an eyebrow. "You'll draw enough attention to yourself without brightly embroidered colours, Ali. For now, this should suit you."
The younger man groaned rather dramatically. "Marsh…."
Mahmoud was up in an instant, clamping one hand over Alistair's mouth and the other firmly under his chin. While his movements were sudden, there was a sort of calmness that could be sensed. The only reason for his brisk movement had been to catch his quick cousin before he had time to dodge away. "You will NOT call me by that name," he said lowly.
Alistair nodded quickly and watched him as he moved away. He turned quickly to change as Mahmoud bent over the fire and his slow-to-make coffee.
"Things are different here."
Alistair looked up from where he'd been studying his boots. "Hmm?"
When Mahmoud repeated himself, Alistair realized the reason he had not understood. The words had been spoken in Arabic. Like all good English boys of his stature, Ali had learned Latin as a child and then gone on to learn a language or two more, and when Mahmoud – or had that been Marsh? – returned from the Holy Lands before, he had taught his younger cousin a bit of Arabic, but that had been two years before and he'd used it only very briefly and was far from fluent.
"What did I say to you?" Mahmoud asked in quiet English.
"I'm not entirely sure," Alistair admitted.
Mahmoud repeated it slowly for the younger man and Alistair worked his way through the sentence until he finally came up with the right answer. He'd been with his cousin a week and used what he could to form his brief answer of, "Yes, I had noticed."
"You are only here for your holiday?"
Ah, English, it was so easy on the ears and Alistair had never known it before. "I'm afraid so."
Mahmoud nodded, looking almost disappointed. Almost.
"Will you let me come back on my next break?" Alistair asked hopefully. He did not miss the glint of pleasure in his cousin's eyes.
"You are a grown man, Ali. You may choose what you wish."
"Then I'll come back."
"You have much to learn before you do."
"Then I will," he answered with a confident smile.
Mahmoud did not answer, but looked at him closely. "And what will happen after the next visit?"
"I will go back to England, back to school, and return at the nearest possible moment."
"A week here and you are sure you will return?"
Alistair smiled a bit. "A week here and I am home."
A/N: There's the first chapter. I hope ya'll like it. I plan for the first couple of years to move fairly quickly to the main plot of this story which is just how they became "brothers" so to speak. Anyway, if you're fan of Ali Hazr, I've got another fic with him in it on my Chase Yuy account. It's a Gundam Wing story, but it has Ali in b/c two characters are in the Middle East. I just had to throw our beloved Arabian cut-throat in on the action :)
Please R&R
TS