(no subject)

[kayip]

Most of the time, when he wakes up on the floor, Behrooz just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep. Sometimes he even slept better – or at least, there are fewer unwanted dreams, more just of wandering through what seemed like endless forest, settling down on the hard ground, and waking in the morning on the floor.

But either way, he almost always woke up with his hands shaking.

He never seemed to really close his eyes anymore – falling asleep meant just abruptly being somewhere else. Most of the time in front of the video camera, staring at his reflection in the lens, seeing the banner behind him but not able to read it because he'd never looked at it what it said and so it always just looked like spilled white on a black wall.

And he'd always try to not look up, to whoever was behind the camera, because one glance from whoever it was – and the look, no matter who it was – would jerk him awake so quickly that he'd find himself sitting up, even on the floor, eyes wide open against the dark room and his own pulse echoing in his ears. He could really even barely remember what the expression was like – sometimes he wasn't even sure who'd been there. He was sure he'd seen Firuz, his father, Malik with blood over his face. Maybe his mother, even Debbie once, he thinks – he'd woke up fairly violently that time, wasn't entirely sure he really remembered it.

And tonight, he opens his eyes to the camera again, staring vainly at the reflection, but still determined to try to read the Arabic script rather than look up at whoever is waiting for him to start speaking. Or stop.

"I had this dream once." He can't help it – he looks up immediately at Sareh's voice. He can tell it's her, though her face is hidden in a niqab rather than her hijab, the rest of her covered in black cloth so he can't see her burns, if they're there. She's not looking at him, but fiddling with something on the camera.

It's a moment before he realizes he hasn't woken yet, he's still there. He's silent, and she turns to look at him, like she's waiting for something.

"What was it about?" he asks, finally. Her dark eyes look past him, at something behind him, maybe the banner, but he doesn't turn.

"What it would feel like." This part of the answer comes quickly, but she turns back to the camera, presses something, and in the corner of his eye he sees the red light near the front of the camera. He's looked to it instead by the time she says, "To blow myself up, like them."

Strangely, Behrooz doesn't look up – he hears what she says, understands it, but it feels clouded, like they're underwater, all the space between them and everything they say glassy and distorted. He slowly answers, "You shouldn't think about things like that."

"It was a dream." Her voice isn't defensive, more like she's calmly stating a fact. "And you'd know more about it, wouldn't you?"

"I never did anything like that," he answers.

"You're talking to the camera," like she's reminding him, "That's not what you're supposed to say."

And he keeps staring at the lens for a moment, before abruptly standing, walking over to where she sits and turning the camera off himself. She finally looks back at him.

"It hurt. A lot. I thought it wasn't worth it, in the end, right before I woke up." She pauses, looking down before she adds, "Though, I didn't know why I did it at all."

There's silence, abruptly broken between them by something Behrooz hadn't heard properly since he was in Pakistan. The mosque in Fairfax hadn't sounded the call very loudly, and not at all in the past few weeks. Sareh looks away, in the direction the words come from though they seem to sound from everywhere at once – and though he can only see her eyes, they tell him how strong her longing is, her gaze like greeting a friend that she'd never truly seen before.

"Take it off," Behrooz says quietly. She looks up at him, uncertain now, but he doesn't desist. "If you pray, you have to take it off."

There's empty sound, like a tape that's run its course, and she reaches behind her head to remove the veil covering her face.

And whatever there is to see, what her face looks like now, Behrooz can't remember it when he wakes up, sitting on the floor, hands shaking and eyes struggling against the dark.

He doesn't try to sleep again that night.