Love and Rockets

by Auburn Red

Events documenting Johnny and Omar's relationship before and after the film. Can the love between the two survive any opposition and challenges both from out and within? Warnings: Slash M/M duh, M/M rape, drug addiction, attempted suicide, and OOC-ness

5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: We All Fall Down, Like Toy Soldiers

Omar and Johnny lay next to each other keeping one another abreast on their news. Johnny told Omar about some of the work that he had done near Liverpool, particularly mechanical contracting. "Thanks to some horrible greedy shrewish tyrant that I once worked for, I discovered I had a knack for it. Didn't think I had much of a knack for nothing."

Omar smirked and kissed Johnny full on ravishing him once more with his body. "Well then you couldn't see in yourself what this 'horrible greedy shrewish tyrant' sees. So, any tyrants like you as much as I do."

Johnny shrugged. "None that have said." Truth be told, Johnny never found a working experience near as wonderful as working with Omar and he wasn't looking. He just moved from place to place feeling rootless and trying to avoid questions that he was no longer sure that he could answer.

Omar also updated Johnny with information about his family such as Tania's relationship with Max and Frida ("Tania a stepmum Unbelievable, staggers the mind", Johnny teased- with Omar noted no jealousy or romantic feelings about her- but in a mocking brotherly tone) and Cherry's pregnancy.

"Well that's that then," Johnny said. "Call out the dogs, get the guns ready, the end really is nigh. Y'know it's funny, I thought the birth of the Antichrist, y'know Satan's son, would be heralded by more plagues and locusts."

Omar playfully shoved Johnny on the shoulder and Johnny moved closer to him kissing up and down his neck and into his soft dark hair. "Ha ha, keep it up. You watch what you say about Salim, even if it is true. He is family after all so you have to behave yourself around him when you return."

Johnny stopped nuzzling Omar's ear and moved away. "I beg your pardon? Run that by me again."

Omar sighed but then cuddled up closer to Johnny. "You're going to have to be nice to Sali-"

"No, I meant the other part about 'when I return?'" Johnny asked.

"Well you're coming back aren't you," Omar said. "I mean I've got Gigi and Del, but I can work something out with them. The launderette really missed you and the mop, the broom." Omar continued to kiss his lover but Johnny moved away and sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. He didn't look at Omar. Omar felt like hitting himself. When would he learn to watch that mouth of his? "I was just kidding." Johnny didn't respond. "Listen if you don't want to work for me, that's fine you're fired! I have Gigi and Del. You don't have to work under me! We can be partners! I have a partnership with Zaki now! Maybe you can run his place. You can do anything, but please you can't leave!"

"I can do anything but I can't leave," Johnny smirked. "Ain't that a contradiction in terms then? So we walk out this door and everything'll be perfect? Suddenly everyone will be all open armed about us? All them racists, homophobes, suddenly disappear. Maybe your father will walk you down the aisle right into me arms then."

"I'm not saying that it will be perfect," Omar said. He embraced Johnny wanting to transfer his dreams and his needs to him. "But, please I want to fight with you, so we can get that future! It's not perfect right now but someday it will be! Someday, this will be the best business ever! Someday you and I will be accepted just like any other couple! Someday, everyone will see just how wonderful you are and how special you are to me!"

Johnny laughed bitterly. Still his dreamer Omar, he still believed in that magical world of "Someday." That someday if they worked hard enough, planned big enough, loved strong enough, then maybe someday everything will be better and more perfect than it had been before and all problems would just magically go away. In the past, Johnny wanted to believe that. He wanted to hold on to those dreams as much as he held onto the Pakistani romantic who dreamed them, but he knew that no matter how much those plans came about, he knew that they would never happen. There were just too many obstacles against them. Now, he just wanted to shake Omar, break him of these fantasies, and make him live in the real world. Don't do this to me, Omar, he thought, don't set me up so high. I don't belong there! He inwardly begged.

"You know nothing's changed," Johnny said getting out of bed and getting dressed. "Tell me one thing, are you willing to take me hand and walk into your Uncle's house and tell everyone that I'm your man and the hell with you getting married?"

Omar gave a sarcastic bitter laugh. "Well that's neither here nor there seeing as how I accidentally outed myself at Uncle Nassar's party last night. I think that I won't be very high up on their guest list for some time now. So a few more marks against my character won't matter."

"And you forgot about your rape and all?" Johnny taunted. Omar had turned his back on his lover and was obviously reaching for something in his trouser pockets. Johnny idly wondered if it was a condom since he had heard something about a "gay cancer." He wondered if Omar had heard it too, but he saw that Omar wasn't reaching for a condom. Johnny peered over Omar's shoulder and saw him reach for a bottle of pills. He unscrewed the top and popped one in his mouth. Johnny looked up and down his lover's emaciated body and felt like kicking himself. How could he have been so stupid to have not seen it? True Omar was never the most muscular of men. In fact the terms "scrawny" and "wiry" could have best been thrown about him especially when he was younger. But now, with his lover's sunken cheeks, rib cage that was clearly showing, his fevered looks, not to mention his aggressive manic behavior last night, Johnny should have known the truth: Omar was turning into a drug addict if he wasn't one already. He wondered how long that this had been going on since he had left, since Omar was raped? Did his family not know or did they turn a blind eye to it and where was he getting them from? But he knew the answer to that one: Salim. As if he needed another reason to hate that bastard. "And you're gonna get rid of your little speed freak friends then?"

Omar shook his head. "These are nothing to me. I just needed them to help me through the day and to kill the pain."

"Lover's Little Helper," Johnny jeered. Privately he wondered which pain Omar needed help killing, but then guessed that it was all of them.

Omar continued as if ignoring him. "I can quit any time that I want to. Besides what do you care? I've seen you take worse!" He started to become very angry. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't take?" Johnny wouldn't answer so Omar continued "So where are you going then? To one of your other jobs or back to causing trouble?" Johnny looked crestfallen so Omar continued. "Because you know that you aren't good for anything else!" Johnny whirled around to face his lover. His eyes flashed as though he wanted to hit him. He grabbed Omar's wrist tightly.

Omar pushed free and wrapped his arms around Johnny. Johnny grabbed his lover's wrists as Omar struggled frantically. "Johnny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! You mean everything to me! If it's the speed, I'll quit, I promise! I'm not like Papa, I don't need them!" Even though he said that, Johnny privately noted that Omar made no attempt to throw the pills out or discard them. Omar continued to beg. "Johnny please stay with me, please. I lost you twice already and both times it nearly destroyed me. I can't bear it if I lose you again!" His eyes watered and his voice shook with fear that Johnny hadn't heard from his lover since they were children. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me! If it's the business, I'll sell it! I'll run away with you! I'll do anything you want!" Omar began to cry but Johnny dropped his lover's wrists. "Johnny I just want to be where you are!"

Johnny wanted to laugh. Omar the businessman, Omar the ambitious one was actually offering to chuck everything his business, his family, and to hell with everyone else just to have Johnny with him. For a brief second, Johnny thought about taking him up on that offer. But he knew that it was a false one: Omar wasn't speaking completely out of love, he was speaking out of hysteria, panic, fear of loneliness, and yes probably the speed was also doing the talking. Besides, even if it were true, Omar would be miserable in a matter of days. Johnny could not picture his lover making that kind of sacrifice and commitment and frankly Johnny wouldn't want him to.

"There will always be forces tearing us apart, Omo," Johnny said sadly. "Maybe it's about time that we took the hint." Johnny put his hands on Omar's cheek as Omar's tears fell on his fingers. Omar held onto Johnny's wrist and kissed the palm of his lover's hand. "I'm sorry, Omo," Johnny said letting the tears come to his eyes as well.

Cherry stood in her room looking through the window. She drummed her fingers on the glass pane. She waited one more half hour and she was a free woman! One half- hour and he would come! She felt the kicks inside her womb. The pain was worse than she ever imagined. " Stop it you little shit," she ordered the child within her. She just hoped that he would come before Salim did. The pain became greater, stronger than the usual kicks. Cherry caught her breath. If what she was planning would work, then she would have the money, immunity and would ultimately be freed from this house and the man whom she had longed come to despise. Just thirty more minutes, could she wait that long?

Suddenly, Cherry felt a sharp pain hitting her as though they were contractions. She knelt down and grabbed the drapes for support. She breathed in and out trying to calm herself. She arose on weak and shaky knees as the pain subsided. "There that wasn't so bad was it?" she said out loud to the child. Cherry looked down at the water that had ran down her uterus and trickled down her legs falling into a small puddle on the floor "Not now, you stupid little brat, not now," she yelled. She sighed and reached for the phone. Cherry dialed a number hoping that there would be an answer. A warm female voice answered," Hello?"

"Bilques," Cherry called surprised at how weak her voice sounded. "Please come right away! The baby's early!"

Omar placed his father's food on the tray then served him. He had returned after his fight with Johnny last night, broken but forcing himself to contribute to his usual activities to deaden the loss that he now felt. Ali methodically spread margarine on his bread, and then glanced at his son who was checking his reflection in the mirror. ""You aren't eating anything?"

"I'll get something at the launderette later," Omar said. What he wasn't telling his father and didn't want to tell him was that he barely ate not so much as a desire to lose weight or to control a diet, so much as a chronic inability to eat. He was often too keyed up concerned about other things that food moved to last place in his life. The few times that he was in front of food, he had completely lost any appetite for it. Just looking at the toast and bacon that he prepared for his father made Omar sick.

Omar straightened his tie not wanting to see the reflection in front of him. The reflection showed a young man who looked emaciated and feverish with blood shot eyes and was too haggard in appearance for the young knock-about businessman around town. He couldn't approach Zaki and his uncle like this. He was surprised that they still wanted to speak to him after last night. He wondered if maybe they thought the outburst was the result of working too hard or a momentary lapse of weakness. There was no need to show them anymore. He glanced at the dresser drawer for his sunglasses. Ali weighed his words before saying more. "Omar, you know I want to help you if you are in trouble."

"I already told you Papa," Omar said. "I'm not in trouble and there isn't anything you can do even if I were."

"I am not a fool, Omar," Ali said, his voice harsher than he intended. He softened his voice, "I know that you haven't been eating and no I don't believe that you will get something later. You are irritable and easily agitated. You barely sleep. I have seen the empty pill bottles in the lavatory. Those dark glasses can only fool people for so long. Omar, you must stop this before you destroy your entire life!"

Omar whirled around to face his father. He dropped his sunglasses so Ali could definitely see the flash in his son's eyes. "I am not going to take this from anyone, but especially not from you!"

Ali looked around their flat and the piles of broken glass and whiskey and vodka bottles. Not for the first time did he feel the sting of guilt and remorse for nearly a life time of crawling inside a bottle. "I know, Omar but this was my choice and I have to live with the consequences," he said sadly. "Don't let my decisions affect yours."

Omar put the dark glasses back on and headed for the door. "I'm not Papa. I choose not to be a failure." He said as he slammed the door. Omar locked the door feeling sense of remorse and shame. In less than a 24 hour period he had humiliated himself at his uncle's party, broke up with the love of his life probably for good now, and insulted his father. What was next for an encore? Knocking Frida down a flight of stairs and earning Tania and Max's hatred as well? Omar slapped himself on the forehead, but paid it no mind. He had many other things to do and he had to get them all done. He just had to.

Nassar was working in his office when he received the call. "Hello, this is Nassar Hussein, may I help you?" his voice had its usual pomposity and bravado until he realized who it was. "Rachel?"

Salim who until before had been looking out the window of the parking garage and pacing glanced at Nassar in surprise and suspicion.

"Nassar," Rachel sounded breathless and hysterical over the phone. "I know that we ended this, and I would not even want to contact you if it wasn't important, but I need to speak with you!"

Nassar rolled his eyes. What could she possibly want? Women were often hysterical about such trivial matters. He was half-tempted to pay it no mind, but on the other hand-Rachel did honor her promise in not speaking or communicating with Nassar, despite his contempt over it. So this must be important indeed."Alright, can you come by the parking garage?" Nassar asked.

"No!" Rachel shot back. "Not if Salim is there!" Nassar glanced upward at his business partner who was silent but glanced at him with extreme suspicion and was that hostility? What did he have to do with any of this? "Meet me somewhere neutral. Can you meet at the launderette in about a half an hour?"

Nassar looked down at his paperwork. He technically had too much to do, but then again it would be wonderful to see Rachel again. "In half an hour," he agreed.

"Thank you and please it's very important that you not tell Salim," Rachel repeated. "I'll see you then."

"Rachel I don't understand what does-" he glanced again at his partner. He did not like that hateful expression on Salim's face-"he have to do with this?" The call ended. "Rachel, Rachel?" Nassar said to the dial tone. He hung up confused.

"That was Rachel?" Salim asked. "Would like to rekindle your romance would she?"

"Um something like that," Nassar added glancing at his watch.

"And who," Salim spat with venom. He looked at Nassar in a way that made him feel as much fear as he did as a child."-is the 'he' that has to do with this?"

Nassar felt much shaken at his younger relative and friend, a man whom he had regarded as a younger brother even a son that he did not have. "Rachel has a new suitor. She doesn't want him to find out about our impending reunion. "

"That's all," Salim questioned.

Nassar nodded. "That's all."

Salim grinned and approached his older relative with a firm but hearty handshake and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. "I believe you, but if I found out that you are lying and that I was the topic of conversation, then I will personally wring your fat aged neck!" Nassar should have lectured his younger assistant on the chain of command, but Salim's tone frightened him more. He nodded and for the first time in a long time, could not find any words to say.

The phone rang bringing both Pakistani businessmen out of their tense confrontation. Nassar gulped and answered the phone trying to retain the earlier bravado that he possessed. "Nassar Hussein, may I help you?" He nodded and handed the phone over to Salim. "It's for you."

Salim grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Salim," one of his associates called. "I'm at Heathrow! You need to get out of here! Field knows I'm sure of it! Get out as soon as you can!" Salim glared at his older relative. His eyes reddened with a manic rage. He hung up the phone.

He approached Nassar and shook him hard. "Please Salim, I am an old man!" Nassar begged.

"You, what did you tell them!" Salim raged pushing him. His body shook with anger and betrayal at the man who he had considered a colleague and a close friend. "What did you say to her? I found out Rachel's brother is a police officer and was just promoted to drug crime! Did you know that? You must have! It can't be a coincidence that she called you! What did you tell them? If it wasn't you was it Omar? That little shit suddenly develops a habit? You're involved in this together, you want to destroy me!" He shook Nassar so hard that the older man felt like that Salim would break him. "What did you tell them?" He screamed again.

He threw Nassar towards the desk. "I don't know what you are talking about, Salim! I didn't tell anyone anything! I didn't even know Rachel had a brother until you just told me and I hadn't spoken with her until just now!"

Salim darted anxiously around as though expecting enemies around every corner. Nassar once again stood up and tried to face his younger partner. Salim looked once more at his former mentor, friend, and surrogate father. With a savage brutal look, he punched Nassar sending him to the ground as he ran out on his heels. Nassar caught his breath as he heard the squeak of the tires in Salim's car and hear him speed away.

The office was quiet too quiet. Nassar sat in stunned silence. The phone broke into his thoughts before he could accurately collect them. "Nassar Hussein, what is it?" he asked brashly.

"Nassar?" Zaki's voice sounded confused. "I'm here with my brother and Omar. Are you alright?"

Nassar took a deep breath. No matter what happened he was a businessman, first and foremost. "Yes, I am alright. I haven't forgotten our meeting. In fact if you like, I will meet you and we can go to the launderette in would-"he glanced at his watch"-twenty minutes be sufficient?"

Zaki appeared to pull away from the phone to converse with his other confederates. "We'll meet you there in 20 minutes," Zaki replied.

Genghis expected a bit more of camaraderie when he explained his plans to his mates. Moose and the others just stared at each other with confusion. Some even looked frightened by the idea and were they even appalled? "Are you serious mate?" Moose asked.

"I'm always serious, now will you boys join me or not?" he asked. "Do we mean what we really say here or don't we? "

The guys just glanced at each other. "Hey it's one thing to do what we do," Moose said. "I didn't even mind trashing that Paki's car a few months ago, but what you're talking about-I mean that's crazy man!"

"A few less Pakis in the world won't matter," Genghis said through clenched teeth that frightened his friends. "Besides Moose you of all people should understand. "

Moose looked at his friends. True, the guy had run over his leg. True, he would have loved to take an even bigger swing at him. But this, this wasn't the answer and he knew it. This was dangerous, even suicidal. Besides Moose knew that Genghis didn't care about what happened to his leg. He was just using it as yet another excuse for his private war. One that had escalated beyond what any of the other guys had wanted. "But Genghis, Pakis may not be the only ones that die. Other people, some of our people, will die too!"

Genghis' voice had a low growl one that frightened his friends. "Then they should know better than to crawl to outsiders for their business then shouldn't they?" Moose hoped that he could make his friend see reason but reason and Genghis had not been close companions for a long time ever since the rapes. He had been bringing young immigrant boys and girls by their place and assaulting them as if he marked each one as yet another victory. He had been doing it since Johnny left them the first time, but had increased when Johnny briefly returned almost as though he claimed a victory over his friend. Moose remembered clearly the night that Genghis returned from the launderette all full of himself for violating Johnny's friend even insinuating that he and Johnny were exes and that Genghis had ruined him forever for their former leader. Technically, Genghis would be labeled a race defiler for these actions, and worse for the fact that some of his conquests were men, but somehow Moose didn't suspect that he cared about that so much as he found a new way to destroy the enemy. Unfortunately, that list of enemies in their leader's eyes was getting longer by the day.

"Now are you going with me or not?" Genghis asked, his eyes taking on an almost insane look. What little sanity their leader may have had before was now disappearing. Moose shook his head. He waited for a few seconds, wondering what Genghis and the guys would do to him if he were the only one who refused to join. He shouldn't have worried. The others stood by him and none would move to join Genghis in his now private war. Genghis looked at his old gang with menace and determination. "Fine, then I will do it myself!" He said as he picked up the full gasoline can and some small electrical equipment and wiring and stormed out of the door.

The lads were silent. Moose overheard one say out loud. "Times like this I am really starting to miss Johnny." Moose couldn't help but agree.

Tania dropped off the last of her notes for Latika at the post office. Soon she, Max, and Frida would be heading home for Paris. It was funny how she considered that city home to her now. Of course it had given her much more than London or any other ever had. Living there had given her a job that she loved, a mentor that she could admire, and of course a wonderful man and his lovely daughter that she could envision spending the rest of her life with. She couldn't wait to return.

Tania took the long way past the launderette. She really should say good-bye to Omar to thank him properly. Now that they were friends and neither had to worry about an arranged marriage, she liked talking to him. She was also concerned about him too and hoped that he could find real happiness for himself as well as she had. She entered the doorway and gave a slight wave to Gigi. Both Gigi and Del were talking to another woman who had her back turned to Tania. Gigi nodded and waved back. Where is Omar?, Tania mouthed. Out, Gigi mouthed back and gestured with her thumb. The gesture must have interested the woman that they were speaking to because she turned around to face the open door. Both Tania and the other woman stared open mouthed and agape at each other. Tania felt what remained of her lunch leap to her throat. Looking at Rachel, Tania felt like she was going to be sick. The only comfort that she had was Rachel looked the same way.

Bilques arrived with her younger daughters and some older women such as Fassia. She began giving orders as soon as she arrived. "Fassia, get some warm water. Raina, go prepare some pillows to make Cherry comfortable. Dasha, get a wet cloth for Cherry's forehead. Cherry, come with me." All of the women obeyed as Bilques led her younger cousin by marriage upstairs. "Where is Salim?" she asked as Cherry clutched her stomach and almost fell in pain.

Cherry shook her head. "I don't know and I don't care," She said screaming at the pain. Bilques didn't respond to her comment instead she led the younger woman to her bed as the other women arrived with the necessary equipment. Cherry motioned for Dasha her youngest daughter to rub ointment on Cherry's temples and to put the cloth over her forehead. "Will this take long," Cherry asked as she felt the pain grab hold of her once again.

"It will take as long as it has to," Bilques told her as she washed her hands and moved inside Cherry's uterus. "Now, I need you to push." She urged as Cherry pushed hard.

"Alright, Cherry," Bilques encouraged the younger woman. "Just one more push. You are doing alright, just one more."

Cherry was upheld by one of Bilques' daughters and Fassia. Her pale face had completely reddened by the strain. "Is he here yet?" she gasped glancing through the window.

"I'm sure that he will be here soon," one of the women said taking her by the hand. Despite the stress, Cherry wanted to laugh. The woman no doubt thought that she was referring to Salim.

Bilques looked down. The baby's head was crowning! "He's coming out; you're doing fine, Cherry! Just one more!"

"I can't do it," Cherry said weakly. It would be fitting in an ironic way that she would die so close to freedom.

"Yes you can," Bilques encouraged. "You can do this for your child. You can do this!" Cherry nodded and pushed one last time as Bilques pulled the baby out. Cherry sighed with relief as her cousin slapped the little one on the behind and he started crying. Bilques looked at him. "You have a son," she said.

Cherry smiled a thin tight smile and though she had tears in her eyes, Bilques noted that she didn't seem too happy over the prospect. She suspected that Salim was the problem. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked. Cherry nodded as her older relative handed the child over to his mother. Cherry looked down at her son. She smiled and looked at him with pleased and tearful eyes. Bilques was confused. All of the actions were there. Cherry even kissed her infant son on the top of his forehead, but they seemed hollow and cold as though Cherry were merely acting a part for an audience. The sharp squeal of a tire stopping in the parking lot broke Bilques from her thoughts.

Raina, her older daughter, turned from the window. "Uncle Salim is here," she said.

Cherry winced. "God damn it," she glowered. "Don't let him come up here!" Bilques didn't want to interfere with their squabbles so she walked downstairs where Salim entered his flat, looking very furious and agitated.

"Out of my way," he commanded his cousin by marriage. Bilques stepped aside as he ran to his private room.

"Salim," she called behind him as he left the door open rummaging through grabbing a suitcase and throwing clothes and other things. He grabbed a video tape and stomped on it. "Salim, your son has been born," Bilques tried once again to get his attention but he paid her no mind as he grabbed some money and reached inside a drawer and pulled out a gun. He looked inside the barrel, but noticing that it was empty reached for some bullets. "What on earth are you doing?" Bilques asked.

"Thanks to that stupid ass that you married and your fucking nephew, I have to leave the country before the police find me," Salim commanded as he reached for the final bullet and just about closed the chamber. A wail broke through the proceedings. "What the fuck is that?"

"That is your son," Bilques said.

"My son?" Salim asked. For a brief second his face softened into something almost human but then he shook his head as though he had broken from a trance and his expression hardened once more. He closed the gun barrel with snap. " He is not of mine," he declared as though that were the final word on the matter. "I won't make this easy for them," Salim said. "Tell my wife good-bye and your husband and Omar that if I ever see them again, then they are dead men!" He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the house.

Salim reached for his car ready to make a smooth getaway. He unlocked the door and used his prosthetic hand to start the key. He wasn't quite used to this false hand yet and he had to maneuver it properly to get the car started. The key turned and he sighed with relief until he heard a voice. "Salim Hussein," Salim glanced at the approaching visitor. He was a man with graying dark hair. "We have a warrant for your arrest." Salim didn't answer. Instead, he turned around to see other police officers surrounding him.

"The hell you do," Salim commanded. He stopped the car and leaped off from the seat. He was about to run inside the house and open the door when he saw Cherry stand as if preventing him from entering.

"It seems that fate has dealt you a very nasty hand," his wife said with triumph. It took Salim only a half-second to process the information that neither Nassar nor Omar had betrayed him. The traitor was his wife, Cherry! Salim aimed his gun and grabbed his wife by the arm.

"One move and she dies," Salim ordered. He backed away from the police officers and the house. "That's it," he commanded as he slowly opened the car door and entered the driver's seat. He was about to close the door when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a police officer, that Sgt. Toby Field the one that his associate told him was Rachel's brother approach him. With a rage-filled scream, Salim shot the officer point blank. Things moved rather quickly. Two police officers grabbed Salim from behind and confiscated the gun from him. They shoved him on top of the car and slapped hand cuffs on him. As Salim looked up and headed for the police car, he saw the look of triumph and victory on his wife's face. He vowed that she would never wear that expression again.

"Tania," Gigi said trying to be friendly in a very obviously difficult moment. "This is-"

"I know who she is," Tania snapped. "What are you doing here?" Both women said in unison glaring at each other.

"I'm here to see your father," Rachel said.

"Not surprised," Tania smirked. "I'm here to see Omar."

Gigi poked Del on the ribcage. "Del, I think we should be where others are not." At first Del didn't take the hint so she shoved her friend harder.

"Ow," Del complained then caught the expression on her face. "Oh yeah, in fact I hear the telephone ringing." He cupped his hand on his ear to the very obvious silence. "I'll get that." Gigi and Del turned away from the duo as Rachel and Tania continued to glare daggers at each other. If looks could kill, Gigi and Del would have really hated to call the police for a double homicide.

"Omar, then?" Rachel asked. "So you two are engaged? When is the wedding?"

Tania looked at the woman in surprise. "You mean you don't know. What my father doesn't discuss family in front of his other woman? You don't know that I haven't been living in London for almost a year?"

"I haven't seen your father in some time now," Rachel replied. "This is the first time in several months that I am going to meet him. "

"Why is that," Tania said sarcastically. "Do you need a new fur coat or a pair of stockings?"

Rachel was about to lose her cool. She was half-tempted to slap Tania across the face. "I have some information to give him, that's all."

Tania smiled in a "yeah right" expression. Rachel continued to ask. "How have you been living?"

"Not off of other men," Tania countered. "I am an assistant in Paris to a prominent feminist author and lecturer."

"How fortunate for you," Rachel said somewhat wistful and a slight touch of envy. A thought occurred to her. "Does your father even know you're in London?" Tania's expression gave her all the information that she needed. "Why? Do you have something to hide?"

Tania looked at the woman incredulously. "Unlike the shameful dirty secret of having a mistress while being married, I have nothing to hide! I think I can live my own life without my father's permission!"

"Then why are you hiding from him," Rachel countered back.

"I refuse to listen to this," Tania said backing away. "I refuse to hear a lecture about honesty from a parasitic trollop!"

Rachel approached the girl. "Why you little-" But that was as far as she got when the explosion occurred.

It was loud covering the small launderette. The building started to shake as customers and employees were knocked to the ground. Del and Gigi fell into each other on the way down. The force sent Rachel and Tania falling into each other. "What was that?" a woman asked getting hysterical. No one knew. Rachel was a child during WWII, but she remembered hiding in the shelters during the Blitz and hearing the bombs and airplanes overhead. For a brief insane moment, she thought that it was one of Jerry's bombs that came back for revenge. She weakly stood as Tania also stood. "Are you alright?" she asked. Tania nodded. Just then the building rocked with the loudest explosion ever! Smoke emerged from the back and the ceiling threatened to cave in. The window completely shattered by the force of the sound!

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Del yelled. The launderette was filled with panic as customers and employees scrambled out the door. A few got hit with stray debris and were knocked out during their escape.

Rachel and Tania still had each other by the arm. Rachel balanced the younger woman. "Come on, let's go," she said.

"Not with you," Tania struggled but that was as far as she got when a piece of debris from the roof fell on top of her head. Tania instantly collapsed from the fall.

"Tania," Rachel gasped. The young girl was unconscious and pale. Blood seeped from her mouth. Rachel picked her up and carried her out. "Come on dear," she begged.

Rachel got outside just in time as the back part of the launderette roof collapsed. The front exteriors still hung but by a thread and both windows were shattered completely. Rachel lay Tania on the cold hard ground and opened the girl's mouth. "This is a bad time to mention this, but I was all thumbs during First Aid," she joked weakly. She breathed into the young woman's mouth and began pumping her stomach. "Come on, Tania. Come on, Poppet, wake up," she said. "Your father would never forgive me if something happened to you! Open your eyes dear. I always did think that you were a lovely young woman now you have to open those beautiful eyes!" She breathed into her again. "Come on, wake up, Tania!"

The emergency workers arrived as she worked on her. Firefighters, police officers, and ambulances arrived with their alarms and bells ringing and clanging. An ambulance stopped in front of Rachel and Tania and two emergency workers appeared. "Excuse me, mum," one said. "We'll take it from here." Rachel nodded and stepped back as they strapped the young woman to the gurney and used the defibrillator on her as well as covered her with a gas mask. "I have a slight pulse," one yelled excited. He led her into the ambulance.

"May I come with her?" Rachel asked.

The paramedic looked at her. "Are you her mother?" he asked.

"No, I'm sort of well a friend of the family," Rachel answered. "I just want to stay with her until her parents arrive." The paramedic waved his hand as if to say that he didn't care and Rachel entered the vehicle behind them.

Johnny talked to the pawnbroker as he examined his watch. Since he lost Omar, he had no reason to stay in London. There were too many bad memories and maybe it was about time that he started over with a new life.

"Alright, I'll give you 60 for it," the broker said.

Johnny scoffed. "This thing is genuine. It cost me 100." Technically, Johnny stole it but he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Yeah, but it's seen better days, mate," the broker said. "Take it or leave it."

Johnny rolled his eyes. He really wanted to punch this man's lights out, but he stayed his hand. "Alright then." The broker handed Johnny the money just as they heard a loud sound. The two men fell over. "What the hell was that?" he asked.

"Got me man," the broker said. "It sounds a little like Jerry's bombs but this ain't the Blitz no more." Johnny accepted the money as was about to leave when a second explosion occurred louder than the first caused him to fall in and grab onto the doorway for support. The punk looked outside at the people who stood frozen pointing or glancing at a far-off direction where the sound was coming from. Johnny felt his heart sink. Could it be-? No, surely fate couldn't be that unkind for something to have happened to Omar.

Emergency vehicles screamed down the road towards the explosion. They rode up to the corner when Johnny whispered. "No, please don't turn left," he begged quietly. Despite his plea, the vehicles sped towards the left. "Fuck it," Johnny swore and ran to the direction of the vehicles and the explosion that he hoped hadn't happened.

Max was caught up in painting his portrait of Tania. He was listening to light classical music on his walkman so he was deaf to the outside world. It sometimes took the act of an army to break him from his creative trance, so he didn't hear his daughter call him until she tapped him on the shoulder and yell in his ear. "PAPAN!" She removed his headphones.

Max jumped in surprise. "Frida, I have told you before not to interrupt me while I am working!"

"But, Papan," Frida said pointing at the television. "Look!"

Max followed his daughter's finger to the news break. Max approached the television and turned up the sound. A dark-haired female newscaster stood in front of the remains of a launderette, a familiar looking launderette. "We have received word that this launderette called Powders, has been a target of a bomb. There have been no arrests made though police are asking questions. Five people are reported to be injured. While there are no definite suspects, police have considered the explosion as the result of Neo-Nazis in the area. Powders had been the target of such crimes in the past and the area is known to be a hotbed of racial tension." That was as far as she got when Max turned off the television

"Come on, Liebchen," Max said taking his daughter by the hand. "Let's go!"

Omar listened to Zaki , Nassar and his brother talk in their usual blustering way as they rode in Zaki's car. The two brothers talked, which wasn't surprising but Nassar was unusually quiet which was. Omar wondered if he was still trying to figure out how to deal with him after last night."Do you enjoy wearing those glasses?" Zaki's brother asked.

"It keeps the glare out," Omar replied.

Zaki laughed. "Actually it's very fashionable for young people to wear them these days, because of that man in that movie, Rusty Business."

Omar laughed. "It's Risky, Risky Business. It's a good movie." Of course for Omar the best part was Tom Cruise dancing around in his underwear to "Old Time Rock and Roll," but he didn't want to mention that.

"Isn't all business risky?" Nassar asked as the other men laughed.

"Oh by the way, Omar," Zaki's brother said. " Zaki and Nassar showed me pictures of the interior to the launderette and it looks incredible. You did a fine job! In fact if you are interested in making a little money on the side, I will be opening a restaurant in the area and I would like to hire you to do the design and contract work."

"A few more buildings designed the way the launderette is could really do wonders for this area," Nassar suggested.

Omar smiled tight lipped. "Thank you, but really I had nothing to do with it. A bloke that used to work for me did most of the work."

The brother smiled. "Well if you do see him, let him know that I would be very interested in his expertise."

"I'll tell him," Omar agreed. If I ever see him again, he thought bitterly. The car drove up to the launderette and the men got the shock of their lives. The launderette lay in ruins and police and ambulances were spread about putting people in stretchers and asking questions. Reporters were in front of cameras and writing in notebooks reporting the news. Firefighters put out the remains of the fire and the whole area was barricaded.

Zaki stopped his car and the men stepped out. Zaki, Nassar, and Zaki's brother approached the catastrophic scene with trepidation and fear. Omar hung about behind staying where he was, frozen. Nassar approached the barricade. "Oy," an authoritarian voice called. "You can't get through there!"

Nassar approached the officer. "My name is Nassar Hussein, my nephew owns this place. What happened here?"

The police officer shrugged. "As far as we can tell it was a bomb," he said. "You know anyone who might have done it?"

"I'm a businessman," Nassar said. "Anyone might have done it!" From behind him, he heard one of the paramedics rattling a list of names to the reporter including two words that Nassar hoped that he would never hear in this context, "Tania" and "Hussein." Nassar held up a finger to the police officer then approached the medical technician. "Excuse me, did you say Tania Hussein?" he asked.

" Yeah, she's one of the injured. Why do you know her?" the paramedic asked.

"I'm her father," Nassar said sadly. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe what Omar told him last night that Tania had returned to London. He thought it was part of his nephew's fevered mind. But, he never imagined that it would be true that the daughter that he had been worried about and had cut out of his life, to avoid feeling that ache was injured and could be dead. "Where was she taken?" he asked.

Omar stayed far from the launderette watching the chaos. He struggled to hold onto his thoughts, his sanity anything but it wasn't working. The panic surges returned causing him to hyperventilate and his heart to race. The images swirled around, the smoke, fire, the chaos was overpowering. He could hear several voices in his head taunting and accusing him:"Immigrants out! Immigrants out! …."I am so sick of hearing about these in-betweens, people should make up their minds about where they are"…"Your family rich and powerful back home has been let down by you!"…."They came here to work for us!" …."They hate us in England and all you can do is kiss their asses and think of yourself as a little Britisher!"…."Such failure, such emptiness!"…."You pathetic scum should go back where you came from!" …."Do you care nothing for your family?"…."There will always be forces tearing us apart , Omar. Maybe, it's about time that we took the hint."…."I choose not to be a failure."

Omar shut his ears trying to silence the voices that he could no longer argue with. He had no business, no lover, and no family, now. He now knew what everyone else knew: He was nothing. "Please, let me hide! Let me disappear!," he chanted. "Let me disappear! Let me hide!" He backed away and turned from the catastrophe and the world that he no longer deserved.

Johnny approached the launderette with disbelief. He saw Nassar enter a car. "Nassar," Johnny yelled grabbing the older man by the arm. At first, he reacted confused until he realized who was addressing him. "What happened?"

Nassar moved stunned as though he were sleepwalking. "A bomb, I think… There are people injured, Tania-" Johnny had never seen the old man like this unable to compose himself. He cleared his throat. "I must go to her." Johnny nodded as Nassar joined Zaki in the car.

"Omar," Johnny called. "Have you seen, Omar?" But Nassar didn't hear him as they drove away. Johnny approached the launderette. He knelt under the police barricade ignoring the police officers order to remain where he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure behind the launderette. He stealthily approached him knowing who had caused the explosion and why.

Genghis nodded with satisfaction. The bomb worked. Now all of those dirty immigrants will take the hint that they will never belong to this country. He hoped beyond all hope that pathetic Paki lover of Johnny's was in there. Just thinking about him made Genghis burn with hatred. If he were dead, it would be a relief but if he were alive then Genghis would have finally broken him. Either way he would win. He was about to leave, when someone ran up to him and punched him.

"Get the fuck off of me, traitor," Genghis commanded Johnny. He punched Johnny and the two rolled a bit on the ground.

"This ain't the way and you know it," Johnny yelled. "What you destroy a building and feel superior now!"

"Better that than have them lord over us," Genghis replied. "You thought that once!" The two pummeled each other until Johnny pushed him towards the wall.

"I'm not like you," Johnny thundered as he stood up. "And I never will be!"

"You're going back to him?" Genghis practically screamed. "He's nothing just some wot boy scum! He ain't nothing like us!"

"I know and I'm glad of it," Johnny said as the police came from behind him. "Oh yeah and one more thing," he said as he kicked his former friend in the ribs. "That was for Omar!"

Omar stepped outside of the rummage shop dressed in a black sweater filled with holes, black jeans, and a dark overcoat. He glanced down at the suit that he wore before and approached the waste basket. In a rage, he threw the suit in the trash. He held onto the sunglasses but ripped them in two and tossed them into the trash. It wasn't a suit, it was a costume! A costume meant to impress people to make them think that he was oh so special. But the costume couldn't disguise the wretched pathetic soul underneath. It was another way of leaving the old life behind. He had to go forward with his new plan. There was nothing else for him now.

He sat on the bench feeling tears fill his eyes. The panicked feeling was gone replaced by a deep depression. Though he already took another pill before he entered the shop, he knew that one wouldn't be enough to kill the pain. He buried his head in his hands and just cried openly. He sat on the bench crying for a few minutes, but then the rational part of his mind ordered him to do some things. He had to write a letter and have it hand delivered and he had to see someone that he hadn't spoken to in over a year. Once he did that then he would close that rational part of his mind forever.

January 11, 1984-

Omar listened quietly in the passenger seat of the car as Uncle Nassar rattled on and on about his new business venture, a parking garage. "It will be an exciting capital idea, my boy!" Omar laughed. One of the things that he loved about his uncle was how excited and enthusiastic about he was about everything, unlike his father these days who was always furious and losing his temper.

"Did you have fun at my place?" Nassar asked.

"Yes I did, Uncle," Omar replied. "Thanks." Omar was dead impressed with Nassar's ornate wealthy home. When he was little, Omar always made believe that he was a sultan or a caliph inside a palace giving orders whenever he visited. Seeing his uncle's home once again gave him those desires to be noticed, to be wealthy, to be somebody.

"What I don't understand, Omar, is since you are going to college, why do you still insist upon living with your parents?" Nassar asked.

Omar shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. "It saves on the cost of living, Uncle." He said.

"Still you have to ride the Tubes across the City and take the long way home," his uncle reminded him.

"It gives me plenty of time to study," Omar replied. What he didn't want to tell Nassar but more than likely what he already knew was that every moment that he spent at college or on the Tubes was one less moment that he spent at home. One less moment spent listening to his father rant and rave and drink himself into an alcoholic stupor. One less moment that he had to uphold his constantly crying mother who almost never spoke now except when she was in tears. One less moment that he felt like a hostage between his parents' disappointments and anger.

"What the devil is all of this?" Nassar said turning the car around to a large crowd. Police had barricaded the area near the train station and people were gathered about. Nassar rolled down the window and called someone over. "What happened?" he asked a man who was standing on the streets.

"Someone jumped onto the railway lines," the man said.

"Someone should have watched where they were going," Nassar joked grandly. The man and Omar laughed.

"Uncle Nassar," Omar pointed out. "My flat isn't too far from here. It will be hours before they clear out this mess. I can walk the rest of the way."

"Are you sure my boy?" Nassar asked.

Omar nodded as he opened the door. "You could back off over there and take the shortcut home," Omar reminded him. Nassar shrugged as Omar waved good-bye.

"DAVIYA," Ali screamed as though his wife were a servant girl. "Where is that woman?" Ali took another swig of vodka as Omar entered. Omar shook his head as he faced his father, his now white hair askew and his eyes shining with the alcohol. It was the time in prison after the Battle of Lewisham that had done this to him, Omar realized. He spent a week there, interrogated, imprisoned, and had watched his ideals fall apart one by one. Seeing people many of them friends or neighbors of theirs had destroyed the man, and seeing-well Omar could not allow himself to think on him any longer. He was part of the past. When Ali returned to his wife and son, he was a bitter shell, a shadow of the man that had once been. He was once someone great, Omar thought, now look at him.

"Your bitch of a mother left this morning," Ali complained. "As if you cared!"

Omar rolled his eyes. "Papa, I'm sure that she'll be back. She probably just went to the market or something." Someone has to, Omar thought bitterly.

He walked to his room and took out the book that he was reading for class, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde. He was trying to understand the stanza "Each man kills the thing that he loves/By all let this be heard/Some do it with a bitter look/Some with a flattering word/The coward does it with a kiss/The brave man with a sword." He wrote the lines down trying to make sense of them when a heavy knock sounded on the door.

"Answer the fucking door, Omar," Ali yelled. Omar sighed and answered as two police officers arrived.

"Is this the residence of Daviya Hussein?" an officer asked pronouncing her first name like "Davy- a"

Omar couldn't resist being cheeky. "No, but this is the residence of 'Dah-vee-yah' Hussein. I'm her son, Omar."

"I'm Officer Malone and this is Turner," the older officer said. "We need you or your father to come and identify her."

Omar felt a cold chill whip through his entire body. "Identify her, what for?"

"Your mother was in an accident," he said. "She had fallen onto the railway lines." Omar felt stunned. "She's dead."

Omar was about to say more when a loud wail and the sound of broken glass appeared behind them. "NO!" Ali called. Omar turned around to face his father. "No, these men are lying! Omar it's not true! " Omar ran up to his father and embraced him. "She's not there! She just can't be!"The son continued to comfort his father as the police officers glanced at each other. Omar managed to get Ali settled enough to face the police officers.

Officer Malone nodded at Ali. "Will you come with us to identify her, Mr. Hussein?"

Ali turned away from the men and shook his head. He looked shriveled and had aged nearly 20 years in the short time. The scales fell from Omar's eyes. He saw his father not as the hero that he once saw, not as a great man who had fallen on hard times, but as a decrepit old man. He was almost a child that needed to be cared for and protected."I'll go," Omar volunteered as he lowered his father's body down and promised that he would return shortly.

Maybe it isn't true, Omar thought to himself. Someone may have stolen her purse and had fallen themselves, that's it! The young man thought as the police officers drove Omar to the morgue. He clung to that faint hope as he followed the officers inside the morgue. He glanced down at the body as they undid the sheet.

There was a woman bloody and practically ripped in two pieces. Despite the blood, Omar could almost make out the lavender dress that she wore the one that his mother used for special occasions. Omar almost had to laugh because she was fastidious about keeping it clean and here it was covered with her blood, fluid, and who knew what else. He could detect the faint smell of jasmine perfume which was her favorite. He remembered when he was a child, some would accidentally spill onto the ends of her hair and whenever she kissed Omar good night and her hair brushed against his, he would get a whiff of jasmine. Just to be sure, Omar lifted her right wrist and made out the small scar that had formed from a childhood accident. Omar nodded as tears filled his eyes but stubbornly wouldn't fall. "She wasn't pushed," he said. It wasn't a question. The officers looked somber and their expressions told them everything that he needed to know.

"So this bloke said, "If you insist on getting tough with me, then I shall have you before a magistrate," Johnny said as drunk as the others reporting on an incident that he had with an upper class Englishman earlier that morning. He imitated the man in a perfect impression of his mincing cultured voice."After all there are men who prefer physical violence and I am not such a chap.' So what else could I do? I thrashed him!" The other guys laughed and slapped him on the back. Johnny liked being with his mates. He barely spent time at home anymore (Frankly, that was fine as far as he and his parents were concerned) and preferred being with the guys doing their parts to fight against a system that was beating them down at every turn.

Moose arrived breathless and several hours later than he usually came. "Hey Moose, what kept ya?" Genghis asked.

"Didn't you hear," he said. "Someone jumped on the railway lines. All the trains stopped." He pointed at the TV. "There probably talking about it now!"

"Shorty, turn It up," Johnny said as he turned up the television.

A male reporter appeared in front of the railway line. "Police have positively identified this afternoon's suicide as Daviya Hussein." Johnny felt a stab of pain hurt his insides as he saw a photo of the woman that he once knew appear on the screen. "Mrs. Hussein, 41, was the wife of once renowned journalist and All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism member, Ali Hussein. Mr. Hussein was unavailable for comment but her brother-in-law Nassar had this to say."

The screen showed an overweight Asian man with a gray walrus mustache and a friendly look despite the sadness. "We are shocked and saddened by this loss. Daviya was a good woman and will be loved and missed by all who knew her."

The image returned to the reporter. "Besides her husband, Mrs. Hussein is also survived by her son. Funeral arrangements are pending."

Shorty turned down the TV as the gang members laughed. "One less Paki to deal with eh?" Genghis guffawed.

"She probably thought the railway was part of the road and thought she could walk across it," Moose agreed. Shorty impersonated someone walking and falling down as the others laughed.

Johnny laughed slightly but said nothing. He couldn't forget that picture of Daviya, a woman who was once a second mum to him, nor could he forget about how Omar must be feeling right now.

Omar methodically washed the last bit of dishes letting the hot water swirl around cleaning off bits of food that his relatives left. He forced himself to be calm, to lose himself in the tedium of daily work. It was how he got through the last few days. He turned off the water and walked into his father's room. The old man was lying in bed. His vacant expression seemed to indicate that he was medicated but he wasn't at least not from any medicinal means. He wouldn't speak as his son entered. Omar leaned towards his father and took his hand. "Papa, have you eaten yet?" Ali said nothing. "You must eat something." Ali absently shook his head and Omar returned to the kitchen to finish off the dishes.

His father's break down in front of the police wasn't the only one. It fell to Omar to ring his relatives, or rather the ones that he knew and Nassar offered to contact the ones that he didn't. Omar had to make the funeral arrangements when his father could not and at the funeral when Ali could not lead the traditional mourning prayer , upheld by his son and paralyzed with grief, it was Omar who led the men in the call. In a way Omar was grateful that his father was acting this way, he freed the emotions that Omar would not allow himself to feel.

Omar sighed. He had been granted temporary leave from the college, but what would happen to his father if he returned? He couldn't bear it if he got into an accident while he was gone or worse. Omar knew that it had taken a lot of effort to get him back in. After the Battle of Lewisham, he had taken his exams but was so overcome with worry about his father who was still in prison that he ran from the exam room and threw up making an automatic fail. If he passed on taking them again it would count as another failure and it almost wouldn't be worth going back. He sighed suddenly feeling exhausted. Really, what choice do I have, he thought. The phone rang interrupting his thoughts.

Omar reached over to answer it thinking that it was probably another relative or friend of one of their relatives expressing their apologies about his mother's death. "Hello?" he said. There was no answer. "Hello, who is this?"

From the nearby phone booth, Johnny could hear Omar's sweet quiet voice ask who it was. He sounded a little more tired, more anxious than Johnny remembered but of course he wasn't surprised. "Hello?" Omar repeated but Johnny couldn't say anything.

He silently hung up the phone and peered through the upstairs window where he could make out Omar standing over his family's kitchen sink. What could Johnny say: Hi, remember me the guy who beat up your dad and broke your heart? Sorry to hear about your mum's passing. Want to get fucked sometime?

Johnny held onto the phone for a minute as he heard Omar's voice once again asking who it was. Was that desperation maybe tears in his voice? How badly did Johnny want to reach through the phone and take his former lover in the arms and tell him everything would be alright? But he couldn't and he didn't. Johnny just hung up the phone.

Even though he hung up, Johnny still lingered by the booth catching Omar's face. He held the phone with an obviously confused expression on his face, then turned around as though he heard something behind him. The very look of him still made Johnny's heart skip after all this time, but he knew that it could never be now. The deed was done so he turned on his heels and hid into the crowd.

Omar stared at the phone as the person hung up. Who the hell was that? Someone to offer condolences? A wrong number? An obscene caller? Omar hoped that maybe it was Johnny who had somehow heard about his mother's death, but Omar knew that it couldn't be. He and Johnny lived separate lives now. They never saw each other or contacted each other. Slowly, that ache of losing his first love dulled and Omar finally got to the point where picturing Johnny in his head didn't quite hurt so much. He wasn't even sure that his old friend still lived in London. So, it couldn't be him, not at all.

Just then he heard a loud crash from his father's room. Omar placed the phone back on the hook and ran to his father's side. Ali had fallen from his bed onto the ground. A whiskey bottle lay next to him in pieces fallen obviously from an attempt to reach for it. Ali sat on the ground his legs spread out and he bent down his hands touching the glass. "They murdered her," he mumbled. "It wasn't suicide, she was murdered! They all murdered her! They will murder us all in the end! I murdered her, I murdered her and I murdered my son! I deserve to be with them!"

Omar wrapped his arms around his father. "Papa, Papa, it will be alright," he assured him. "I'm right here. Look at me, look at me!" Ali glanced at Omar as if seeing him for the first time. He then wept in his son's arms. "Omar, I am sorry," he sobbed. "I am so sorry!" Omar gently lifted his father up and returned him to the bed. He then entered the kitchen to pick up a broom and dustpan to clean up the shards of glass. When that was finished, he entered the lavatory and grabbed some iodine and bandages. He returned to his father's bedroom and gently rubbed the iodine onto his bleeding hands. Ali winced with the pain as his son worked.

Omar completed bandaging his father's hand. "Papa, you need someone to look after you. I'm not going back to college. I want to stay here and help you."He squeezed his father's hand tighter and held him by the shoulder. "I will take care of you as well as you took care of me all of those years."

Ali sobbed once more holding onto his son for dear life. Omar embraced his father tightly allowing himself to cry softly as his father wept loudly. I will look after him, Omar vowed to himself, I will be the strong one. You don't have to worry, Mama, I will take good care of him.

Of course it wasn't until awhile later that Omar realized how draining always being the strong one can be.

Author's Note: This is the last of the flashbacks! The next chapter, the penultimate chapter, will be entirely set in the modern storyline. However, the final chapter will be entirely a flash forward! So, stay tuned and enjoy yourself and thanks again for reading and reviewing. I am glad to see this story get such a positive reaction from the readers! :D