(no subject)

[kayip]

July 12, 2012

Two days, and there was nothing. No attacks, no prevented bombings – nothing happened, and finally, people were tentatively suggesting it was the end. The terrorists had finished and it was time, again, to rebuild, and figure out how to respond.

Behrooz knew this was wrong, though there was no way of saying it, nothing to do but stare at the television with an empty glare rather than the timid hope or continued fear that appeared on the faces of those around him as the continued lack of news came in. But nothing else was quiet – legislation and "counterattacks" didn't really slow down, and neither did the men Behrooz continued to meet with, though they were still silent about exactly what role they were to play in this.

Which didn't do much except make his handlers more and more frustrated. But for all they accused him of lying or exaggerating or not doing enough, he could clearly see what they really feared, what he himself felt on the edge of – something bigger. Something that would take longer, that would be better at the end, that would shadow even the last two weeks of chaos and catastrophe.

Something they couldn't come back from.

So it was another meeting (the third in two days, which felt like a lot when you had two other lives to cover), the man was pacing, the woman speaking into her phone but constantly looking up at Behrooz, like she suspected he could hear her. Which he could, but at the moment, he wasn't particularly trying to do so – his eyes were on the man, on the way he held himself when he walked.

"I can't ask that much, I'm just supposed to shut up and do what I'm told."

"Are they really that suspicious of you?" the man snaps.

"No," Behrooz answers, not particularly coldly or harshly, but almost more dimly, like it's a given. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

"That's not what you're there for. You're there to get answers."

"If I'm doing a bad job of it, pull me out. Look, part of the reason they probably don't want to tell me anything is because they know I'll probably be arrested eventually and then I could say something –"

"Stop turning this around on us." The woman snaps the phone shut and steps between them, grabbing Behrooz by the arm and pulling him a short ways away without saying a word to either of them.

"What're you –"

"Just come with me." She guides him a few more feet away, throwing a look at her partner to keep him back before they stop, clearly out of his earshot.

"Look, what you're doing is amazing, all right?" she hisses it like it's an insult, so it takes him a moment to piece together what she's said. "It must be so hard for you, and we need you. He'll never tell you, but he's so proud of you. You can go."

And with that, she walks off, Behrooz staring after her until he realizes she'd let him leave.


*


"You really didn't have to do this."

"I can't believe you walked," Sareh says in a lecturing-type voice, slowing as they came to a stop sign. "It's dark out."

"I could've taken the bus…"

"Even better," she murmurs, twisting the wheel as they turn right. "Besides, aren't you glad you get to see my impressive driving skills now?"

"Sure," he finally concedes, leaning against the window as they head past a darkened school. A car passes, illuminating them momentarily, the light glinting against the small, flower-shaped pins Sareh had put on her veil. "We can stop by our house, anyway – Dad needs to give you your paycheck."

Behrooz is about to answer that, when something flashes behind them – he'd noticed the police car already there, but is still surprised to see its lights blink on. Sareh's eyes snap up at the red-and-blue light against her rear view mirror, and quickly looks back.

"I'm – not speeding –"

It doesn't stop, and she looks back at the road. "I'm not."

"You have to pull over, Sareh." She frowns, but the other car isn't relenting and a short spurt of a siren comes on, so she signals, and ultimately stops at the side of the road, near the entrance of a parking lot to an empty church. The car stops behind them, lights still flashing as it parks, and she lowers her window, and Behrooz opens the glove compartment to find her registration.

"Here," he mumbles, and she's pulling out her wallet as he listens for the officers footsteps. Behrooz glances back to see another officer behind the wheel of the car. "Just – don't –"

She gives him a look before the officer reaches her open window, holding up a flashlight that makes Behrooz wince slightly, and look down at the dashboard.

"License and registration?" she hands both over through the open window, and says without prompting, "I don't think I was speeding."

The officer doesn't respond, just flashes the light over her license briefly before looking back. "I need his ID, too." Behrooz does blink up now, but is already reaching for his own license when Sareh asks "What for?"

"Just procedure, miss."

"Here," Behrooz mumbles, handing his own license to her, though she looks annoyed at him for it, but she hands it over, as well. "You haven't said why you pulled us over."

"Just hold your horses, miss…" he hesitates, fumbling with the IDs. " – Rehmani. You two aren't related?"

"He's my friend," she snaps, clearly starting to get irritated.

"Right," it sounds slightly disbelieving, but not in the typical way. "I'll need a minute." And he walks off toward the police car again, and Sareh lets out a breath as she leans back in her seat.

"He doesn't need your ID for anything," she mumbles, her eyes going up to the rearview mirror to watch the officer, who's handing their information through the front window to the driver.

"I don't have anything to hide," Behrooz answers, looking at the dashboard again. Her eyes flicker to him.

"That's not the point, Orhan."

There's a beat, and then – "I know."

The officer returns without their documents, stopping at the backseat to flash his light through the window – it's empty except for her backpack, but he lowers the flashlight and opens the unlocked door.

"Hey –" Sareh undoes her seatbelt, but Behrooz grabs her shoulder as the officer turns the flashlight back into her eyes.

"Stay where you are." he says, calmly enough. "This is a legal search." She just winces slightly at the light, pushing Behrooz off her arm as she leans out the window to watch him, though she stays in the car. One item after another, he removes her books, pencils, looks through her wallet, throwing each into the backseat of the car until the bag is empty, which he tosses in as well before slamming the backdoor, and calling, "Pop the trunk."

She reaches for the door handle now, but Behrooz reaches over and presses the button for her, predictably leading her anger to turn on him. "Is that it? Just roll over and do whatever?"

"He could arrest us if he didn’t," Behrooz answers, not really able to keep the misery out of his voice, so his logic doesn't hit the way it should. "You don't want that."

"If I –"

"You don't want to do that to your parents."

She presses her mouth shut, still glaring at him as she folds her arms and sits very far back into her seat. The trunk is empty, in any case, so it isn't long before they hear it slam and the officer returns to the front seats, leveling the flashlight at Sareh again.

"I'm going to need you to take that – thing – off."

Behrooz doesn't move, now – not to stop her from doing something she might regret, or to tell her she should just do what he says. He's silent, and watches as she stays still for a long moment, before slowly turning to face the officer, and just saying, "No."

"I wasn't asking."

She doesn't look back at him, but puts her hands on the wheel, and just says, "When you're done with our IDs, let us know."

At this, the officer leans into the open window, coming close her but not enough to touch her, so she doesn't move. Behrooz realizes that he's trying to make eye contact with him, but ignores it, just watching Sareh as if he's just waiting, as well. He can still tell easily enough that she's angry – her cool demeanor can't hide the smell of it, but she's doing a good job of not showing it in her face.

"This is a security –"

"I'm not taking it off." Her tone demands a sort of finality, so much so that even the officer seems a little lost for a moment, like he doesn't know how to continue or respond. He leans out of the window again, just staring at them for a long moment, before he reaches forward and throws her door open. Behrooz opens his own immediately to vainly try to stop him before he attempts to pull Sareh out of the car. But the officer stops short when a voice comes over the radio on his shoulder.

"Tom?"

He hesitates, arm stretched toward Sareh's arm, and they all sit there – as if paused in time – until he backs out of the car again, stepping a few feet away and barking, " where you are," before speaking quietly into the radio. Behrooz doesn't close his door, but looks back at Sareh, who's still just staring at the wheel, though her anger's a little more obvious now.

"I'm sorry I touched you," he says quietly.

"It's all right," she answers, sounding sincere though she doesn't look at him. The officer returns too quickly for Behrooz to try to hear what he was saying into the radio, but he's holding out their IDs. Sareh takes them quickly and silently, and closes her door.

"You two drive safe now," he says dully, sounding like he's saying it out of habit, and heads back toward his car. Behrooz shuts his own door, but it's not until the police car's lights have gone out, and it's driven away, that she speaks.

"Don't tell them about that, ok? My Dad – barely wants me to go out at all now, anyway."

Behrooz nods wordlessly, and she puts her seatbelt back on before pulling out into the street.