"Sir." Noor shook Madari's shoulder to wake him. "Sir, they're here."

Madari blinked up at him, confused for a moment, then moved and winced. He sat up, pressing a hand to the back of his aching neck. He'd been sleeping on a row of seats, since that was at least marginally more comfortable than sleeping on a bedroll on the floor. Five nights he'd slept here now and he didn't think his spine would ever be the same again.

He'd been taking a short nap after lunch, still exhausted, but of course fate would not let him rest. He knew the airport's civilian management and security force were due to arrive today, so should have known they'd arrive when he'd only just dozed off.

"Bring them here."

Madari stood up as he spoke, trying to stretch the pain out of his back muscles. Noor hurried off and Madari looked around the departure lounge at the men still encamped there. Only around a third of the men remained. Now the fighting had stopped, they needed only a small force to keep the airport secure until its management returned to reclaim it. So most of the men had already left, heading home. As the word spread among the remainder that they were coming to the end of their mission, they began to rush around, gathering their things.

Madari went to the information desk and found his pack, rummaged in it for a comb to pull through his hair. Thankfully the water supply had continued flowing and they were able to take showers, though he felt very conscious of his rumpled and dirty clothes. But now he could be only hours away from going home, where he had a wardrobe full of clothes to choose from. And his bed, his own bed waiting for him.

Enough, he told himself. Though the last report he'd had said his house was intact there was no point in counting on anything until he got back there.

Voices came from the direction of the stairs and he stepped out from behind the information desk, picking up a folder from the counter. A group of men in civilian clothes and police uniforms approached, accompanied by several of Madari's officers. As he waited, Jahni appeared at Madari's side and they exchanged a glance.

Almost time. Madari still had no answer to Jahni's question. What happens next?

A man wearing a double breasted suit and a white headdress approached. The white of the headdress almost hypnotised Madari. Like snow, he thought, like the whitest clouds. Some of the garments Madari wore were theoretically white, but had long since turned grey in the laundry. I want to go home and put on all white clothing he thought, then smiled at himself. The man in the snowy headdress held out his hand.

"Major Madari? I am the airport manager, Mr Vali. This is the head of airport security, Captain Dhan."

"I'm pleased to meet you both." Madari shook their hands.

"I'm sure," Mr Vali smiled, "I'm sure you are keen to get away from here."

"I will admit five days is longer than I'd want to spend at any airport." Madari handed him the folder he'd taken from the information desk. "I've made a report of the damage caused by the fighting. My men have cleared up and made what temporary repairs they could."

The police captain, Dhan, was already looking around, assessing the state of the terminal building and Mr Vali did the same now.

"Oh, thank you, Major. I think we will be able to reopen sooner than I hoped. Frankly, I expected the place to be much worse." He looked over at the men and their "camp". Even that looked neatly laid out. The security shutters remained down over any shops the guerrillas hadn't needed to access for food or other essentials.

"I expect discipline from my men," Madari said, straightening up, putting his hands behind his back. Dhan, quite a young man, perhaps newly promoted, Madari thought, gave an approving nod.

"Then they do you great credit," Vali said. "Thank you for taking care of my airport, Major." He bowed his head to Madari.

"Sir," Dhan said to Madari, "I officially request you hand over security of the airport to me."

"Granted, Captain." Madari took out the keys he'd been carrying around and handed them to Dhan, who handed them to the airport manager, turned back to Madari and saluted. Madari returned the salute, wanting to smile at the serious expression on the young police officer's face. Definitely newly promoted.

Dhan started giving orders over a walkie talkie and Madari turned back to his men, who all stood nearby now. Those who'd been guarding doors or on patrol had come back to the departure lounge, as the police officers relieved them. Madari had one last order to give them.

"Dismiss."

A ragged cheer burst from the group, making him smile and then give a long sigh. When the cheer died down they turned back to gathering up their belongings and making arrangements to get home. They still had some of the vehicles, the jeeps and cars so those who lived far off could use those. Men who lived here in the city would just set off walking.

Some confusion reigned. What should they do with their weapons? Captain Dhan offered to secure them for the men who didn't want to take them home.

Madari looked at his own weapons, his rifle, a Hechler and Koch G3 he'd picked up in a raid. Most of the men used M16s, but he'd grown quite fond of his personal rifle, liked having the distinction, perhaps. And he just liked Hechler and Koch weapons anyway. His pistol, a Sig Sauer 9mm, he felt less fond of. Reliable and accurate certainly, but he missed the Royal Guard's standard issue Browning Hi-Power.

He decided, he would hang onto both the rifle and the pistol for now. Some of the men might be going back to homes with wives and children in them, where guns had no place, but Madari would return to a house that would likely be empty. He saw Jahni hanging onto his too. A bigger fan of the M16 would be hard to find.

More goodbyes now, on the concourse of the airport, in front of the bullet marred check-in desks. He'd said goodbye to so many of his men already, and now came the turn of the officers, those closest to him. Yassin looked nervous as he said goodbye to them all, perhaps worried about going home to the wife he barely knew. But he laughed as he invited all of them to drop by in a couple of months once the baby was born.

Darak of course had to put up with many warnings to be careful of exploding goats. Noor talked endlessly about the meal he would have his wife prepare, that he swore would take him a week to eat. Faraj was quite serious, saying he could have a lot of family business to sort out, and asking when Madari would be likely to report to Royal Guard barracks.

"A few days," Madari said, not wanting to specify. Part of him wanted to rush there now, but only a small part. The majority vote, came from his aching head and back and feet and his exhausted mind, sick to death of conflict. That majority voted to go home and sleep and perhaps hide for a while.

One by one they left, Ishaq, Moshen, Mahran, the man who'd gone out and brought back all those first messages. He'd become a fierce fighter, with a cool nerve rare even among professional soldiers.

Months ago Mahran had brought back the news that meant one man still waited, when all the others had gone. The man who had no home to go back to.

Madari walked to Jahni, who sat on the counter of one of the check-in desks, head down, one foot swinging and tapping rhythmically against the bullet holed fascia.

"Kahil. Where do you want to go now?"

Jahni looked at him, looking down slightly into Madari's face, from his perch on the desk.

"I don't know. I didn't expect to be alive at this point. I haven't made any plans."

"Do you want to go back to your regiment?"

"No." The answer was hasty, breathless. "I mean, not yet. I know, I have to eventually, but not yet."

"I think..." Madari hesitated, not sure if it was his place to suggest this, but he felt sure it would help Jahni. He placed a hand over one of Jahni's where it rested on the desk. "I think you should see the graves of your family."

Jahni turned his face away. "I don't know if I... if I can go back there."

"Kahil. It is important that you say goodbye."

Jahni gave a stuttering laugh. "To what? To earth and stones? My family is not there."

"No, they are in a better place, and they live in your memories. But it can give you a place to mark the end of this part of your life, Kahil. Perhaps then you can decide what you want."

Jahni looked back at him, head still hanging forward, so his too long hair shaded his eyes.

"I know what I want."

Madari stared back at him, felt the hand under his own grow tense. Then Jahni cleared his throat and spoke again, in a lighter tone, almost smiling. "But you're right, I still have to decide what to do." He jumped down from the desk and Madari stepped back from him.

As he always did now, Jahni waited for Madari to move before he fell into step at his side. I have to tell him, Madari thought, wanting to laugh suddenly. When he had said "Dismiss" before it meant Jahni was relieved of his duty as Madari's bodyguard. However, Madari suspected Jahni would hold that job for as long as they were together.

Side by side, their packs and rifles on their backs, they marched out of the airport.

~~~~

The Mercedes waited outside. Jahni took the wheel, and stayed quiet as he drove, clearly not inclined to talk, so Madari didn't resist the urge to doze.

He was jolted half awake several times but finally awoke fully when the car stopped. They were in a small dusty town on the edge of the desert, an hour west of Az-Ma'ir, parked beside a burial ground. Without speaking to Madari, Jahni got out of the car and went into the burial ground. A low wall a man could easily step over surrounded it, but Jahni used the gate to go inside. Not wanting to intrude, Madari waited in the car and watched Jahni look around for a while and then stop. When Jahni knelt on the ground, his head bowed, Madari stopped looking at him. Instead he closed his eyes and prayed for his friend.

Jahni came back nearly thirty minutes later, his face streaked and his eyes red. Madari got out of the car and handed him a canteen, sure Jahni hadn't drunk anything since lunchtime. After a long drink Jahni handed the canteen back.

"Thank you, sir."

"Where now?" Madari asked.

"My house... where my house was."

Madari let him take the wheel again and Jahni drove them to the outskirts of the other side of town. The houses here were large and prosperous looking. Jahni stopped the car by a gap in the row of houses. The ground of the open patch of land was uneven and grass has grown patchily over the rubble. What had once been a quite large garden had grown wild, and the sun had burnt the grass brown in exposed spots.

Jahni again got out of the car without a word. He didn't go through the gate at once, stood by it for a moment, perhaps working up the nerve. Then he visibly gathered himself and went in. Madari stayed outside the gate and sat on the low wall. After a few moments a man emerged from the house next door, stared at Jahni for a few minutes, and then saw Madari. He approached the major, looking uneasy, probably scared of Madari's rough appearance.

"Excuse me, sir, is that Kahil Jahni?" He smiled in a nervous way and held out his hand.

"Yes." Madari stood and shook the man's hand.

"I thought so! I can't believe it. We heard he was fighting with the rebels, I don't think anyone here expected to see him again."

"He has been fighting. But the fighting is over." He hardly needed to tell the man that. Perhaps he was telling himself.

The man looked curiously at Madari. "You were also a fighter?"

"Yes."

"May I shake your hand again, sir?" He did so. "We owe so much to men like you. I am Nadim Ruhul, I am honoured to meet you..." he left the question hanging.

"Major Madari."

Ruhul's eyes widened and his mouth fell open for a moment.

"Madari? The Knight of the North?" He clasped Madari's hand for a third time and pumped it vigorously. "By the prophet, sir, it is an honour! An honour!'

"Thank you." Madari disengaged his hand as politely as he could.

"Sir, you are a hero to the people, a hero!"

"There is your hero, Mr Ruhul." Madari nodded towards Jahni. "Your local hero."

Ruhul looked at Jahni. "Yes. Of course." He looked very sober. "What happened to his family, it was terrible. We tried to stop it, tried to protest. But there were too many soldiers, no one could do anything." Shame on his face, he hung his head. Then after a while he looked up again, looked at Jahni, smiled. "It seems no time at all since he was a only a boy. I remember he was always getting up to some mischief or other. Oh not in a bad way, sir," he added hastily as Madari frowned at him. "I mean he was just curious and adventurous, like boys are. But he was always a good boy."

Madari smiled. Yes, he could imagine Jahni being "curious and adventurous". Jahni was heading back towards them now, but hesitated when he saw Ruhul, probably didn't feel up to making small talk.

"I... let me fetch you some coffee." Ruhul bustled off. Jahni came up to Madari, didn't speak, couldn't speak. Shaking, because he was trying to keep from breaking down. Madari needed to give him permission to stop trying, to let go and express that pain at last. He took Jahni into his arms.

"It's all right, Kahil, it's all right. Let it out." Jahni buried his face in Madari's shoulder and Madari held him as choked sobs fought their way out of his body. All the pain and grief of the past year, all the tension of the last few days poured out of him.

Stroking Jahni's back and his hair, Madari tried his best to offer the same comfort Jahni had given him so many times, but felt sure it could never be adequate.

After a few minutes Jahni regained control and straightened up, pulling away from Madari. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve and managed a very weak smile.

"I'm sorry."

"This is not easy for you. I understand." Madari reached out and rested his hand on the back of Jahni's neck, moving their heads close. His thumb stroked through Jahni's hair. "Don't apologise, Kahil." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "Not after all you have done for me."

An apologetic cough broke the moment. They turned to see Ruhul there with cups of coffee.

"Hello, Mr Ruhul." Jahni forced a small smile, a polite nod. "How are your family?'

"Well, thank you, sir. Please, have some coffee." They took the offered cups and Madari noticed Ruhul stare for a moment at the his scarred hands, before turning away quickly, realising he was being rude.

Ruhul started to talk, nervous still at first, but warming to the subject, telling Jahni all the gossip of the village. Although Jahni nodded along, Madari could see his mind was elsewhere. After resisting an invitation to stay for dinner with Ruhul they headed back to the car. Madari took the driver's seat and started the engine, but didn't move off yet. He turned to look at Jahni

"Is there anything else you want to see here?"

"No." Jahni shook his head. "I'm done here. I don't know if I will ever come back."

"Where can I take you?"

"I don't... I don't know. I don't even have any cash." Looking lost, he shook his head again.

"It's getting late in the day," Madari said, looking out at the lengthening shadows. "And you're clearly exhausted. For now, if you wish to, we can go to my home. We can get cleaned up, get some rest. Tomorrow you can think about what to do."

Jahni gave him a genuine, if tired, smile now.

"Thank you, sir."

Madari smiled back and drove off into the waning afternoon.

~~~~

It was almost dark when they reached Madari's home. They didn't talk much. Jahni had managed to doze during the journey, and when he wasn't asleep he was huddled in on himself, silent and thoughtful. The gates to the compound were unlocked and they drove in. Madari was relieved to see the house still apparently intact and undamaged.

They approached a door and found it locked.

"Should we..." Jahni began, when a man's voice, a shout, came from inside, from a window to the right.

"Go away! I warn you, I have a gun!" The barrel of a rifle poked out of the window shutters.

On instinct, Jahni drew his pistol, but Madari pushed it aside and stepped back from the door.

"Youssef? Is that you? It's me." He unwrapped his kuffiyah, then pulled it off, to show his face clearly.

"Major?"

The shutter banged closed and in a moment they heard the door being unbarred and unlocked. When it opened an elderly, weather-beaten man stood there, carrying an antique looking rifle. He gaped at Madari. Madari smiled back at him.

"Hello, Youssef."

"Sir!" Youssef seemed on the verge of tears. "Oh, sir, I thought I'd never see you again."

"I couldn't stand another day without your lamb stew," Madari told him, making the old man smile. After a moment, Madari laughed, realising he was standing at the door waiting for Youssef to invite him inside, into his own house. He turned to beckon Jahni and they stepped inside, straight into a large living room.

"Youssef, this is Lieutenant Jahni, one of my officers. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Youssef Anbar, who served with my grandfather."

"Sergeant." Jahni shook Youssef's hand. Youssef stared at him appearing surprised. No doubt Jahni didn't look much like an officer, but then neither did Madari just now.

"Lieutenant Jahni will be staying tonight," Madari said, stepping into the once familiar and now strange room. He wandered around, sometimes touching things, just connecting briefly for a second. Of course Youssef had kept everything neat and clean, but he suspected the old man never used the room himself. It seemed empty, vacant. He stopped and picked up the telephone receiver. Silent.

"It was cut off, sir."

Madari nodded. No rush to have it reconnected.

"They came to the house after I was arrested?'

"Yes, sir. They searched, took away papers from your study."

Madari shuddered at the thought of strangers pawing through his things.

"And they took..." He nodded at the wall, at four sets of padded hooks.

"Oh no, sir!" Youssef said. "I hid them, buried them in the garden, they're safe. And the rifle is here of course." He handed that to Madari, who checked the chamber and unloaded it.

"Safe?" Madari said, smiling.

"Safe, sir."

"What is safe?" Jahni looked at the two of them, puzzled by their cryptic conversation. Madari smiled, enjoying teasing him, seeing the small frown on his face.

"You will see, Lieutenant. Youssef, we are very hungry, can you fetch us something?'

As the old servant hurried off Madari shrugged off his coat and tossed it to Jahni, nodding at a row of coat hooks on the wall behind the door. Jahni hung their coats there, then at Madari's invitation he sat down on a couch. Madari sat on the other couch and stretched, feeling comfortable, safe now. Time enough later to think about the future. For now he had the familiar confines of his home. And Kahil to share it with him. Squashing that thought he turned to see Jahni looking around at the room.

"What do you think of the old place?"

"It's very, um, spare I suppose is the word. Very functional."

"Spartan." Madari gave a small shrug. "I'm a soldier."

"You have a lot of books, though." One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, all full. A step stool gave access to the higher shelves.

Madari nodded, then stretched again and yawned. "I feel ready to sleep for a week." He doubted he'd be given that privilege.

"That rifle looks old." Jahni said, looking at the rifle Madari had leaned against the sofa he sat on.

"It was my grandfather's." Picking it up, he stroked the smooth wood of the stock with his thumb. "A Lee-Enfield.303. He carried it in the Great War. He taught me to shoot with it. Here, take a look at it."

Jahni came over and sat beside him, examined the rifle. "It still fires?'

"Oh yes. It is kept in working order. Though getting cartridges for it is becoming very difficult. It's no M16, but it is a fine weapon. You'll have to try it later."

"Thank you, sir, I'd like that."

Madari grimaced at the 'sir'. Suddenly that felt too formal, it put too much distance between them. It didn't belong here.

"Kahil," he said, "please call me Faris." He took Jahni's hands in his own. "You already call me Faris sometimes." Not enough, he thought, and usually in a particular situation. "At night." He didn't want to dwell on the dark times just now. "And technically I am no longer your commanding officer." Jahni stared, then bit his lip, shook his head, not liking that apparently. "But we are friends. Friends call each other by name."

That, Jahni did like. He smiled. Beamed.

"Thank you. Faris."

Madari leaned back on the sofa, still holding Jahni's left hand with his right. Jahni leaned back too and their arms pressed together, Jahni leaning against Madari. Life was good, Madari thought, for the first time in a long time, life was good.

"Dinner is served, Major, Lieutenant."

And it kept getting better.

~~~~

After dinner Madari remembered who else he had to say hello to and Jahni and Youssef followed him out to the stables. The three horses were safe and seemed well cared for.

"The man from the village has been every day, sir. He rides them too, to keep them exercised. I've used the money from the household account to pay him, I've kept a record of everything, if you wish to see the books, sir."

"Hmm? Oh, of course, that's fine." Madari stood by the stall of his favourite of the animals, Aasifa, and stroked her nose, smiling at her. He'd only owned the mare for a few months before his arrest, she was still young. "My beautiful girl. I have missed you."

She whinnied and tossed her blonde mane, making Jahni take a step back, giving her a nervous look. He'd learnt to ride from the Bedouin, but Madari knew he still didn't trust horses. Well Madari would teach him to. That is, he thought, he hoped he would have the chance to teach Jahni to trust them.

After he'd checked the animals, Madari walked back to the stable door and looked out into the darkness. He and Jahni were both exhausted, they really should rest. And it was dark. Foolish to try to work in the dark. But no. His house would not feel like home, until what belonged on those hooks on the wall came back inside.

"All right, Youssef, show me where you buried them."

"Sir, it's rather late. And dark." Youssef sounded doubtful.

"I know, I just need..." He held up the electric lantern he carried. "Bring two more of these."

The old man took them behind the stables and found a spot marked with a small pile of stones.

"Here, sir." Youssef turned away to fetch the other lanterns.

"Fetch a couple of shovels too," Madari said as the servant left, carrying the lantern. The moonlight allowed him to see well enough, to see Jahni, already clearing away the little cairn of stones.

"Ready to do some work, Kahil?"

Jahni looked up and him and grinned.

"Always, Faris."

When Youssef returned with the shovels, Jahni took one, then pulled his shirt off over his head. Madari wanted to laugh. A little too late to worry about your shirt getting dirty now, he thought. Madari took the other shovel and Youssef protested at once.

"Sir, what are you doing?" He sounded scandalised. "You can't dig."

"Actually, I can," Madari said. "It's considerably less technical than I was always led to believe." He heard Jahni chuckle at that. "Hold up a light for us."

The two officers started to dig in the spot that Youssef had marked with the stones. Youssef watched, holding the lantern and wearing a dubious expression on his face. Unsurprising, Madari thought. Two men, two officers, digging in the darkness. Jahni didn't protest, although he must have been as tired as Madari. They had done stranger things over the last year. Ignoring the pain in his shoulders and back, Madari just went on digging.

About three feet down his shovel touched something solid.

"Careful," he warned Jahni. "I think we're there." He scraped away the earth from what he'd found, revealing plastic sheeting.

"That's it, sir," Youssef said, leaning over, holding the lamp closer.

Discarding the shovel, Madari bent down and used his hands to brush away the sandy, dry earth. Then he pushed his hands down both sides of the object in the ground and heaved. Jahni helped him, and they pulled out a bundle about four feet long and perhaps two around, wrapped tightly in plastic. Nylon cord bound the plastic up.

They dumped it on the ground and climbed out of the hole. Madari took out the knife sheathed at his belt, but Jahni touched his arm to stop him.

"Why don't we take it inside, so we can see what we're doing?"

Madari agreed and picked up the bundle before either of the other two could do so. Striding ahead, carrying it in his arms in front of him, like an offering, he walked, smiling, grinning, into the house.

The small scullery beside the kitchen seemed the best place, with its easily mopped tiled floor, and he laid his burden down carefully as the others followed him into the room. Jahni knelt beside him and they went to work with their knives to free the bindings.

That took a few minutes, to cut the strong nylon rope, but at last they all fell loose and Madari unrolled the plastic. Inside that the bundle was wrapped again, in cloth, old bed sheets it looked like. These were tied with string and easily cut open, leaving the bundle's contents unwrapped completely now. Three swords lay on the sheets, long cavalry sabres in their scabbards.

"Thank you, Youssef," Madari said, looking from his family's historic weapons to the man who had secured them from the thieving hands of the usurping regime. He turned to Jahni, who was looking down at the swords, but not touching them.

"This one is mine." Madari rested his hand on it briefly. "My ceremonial sabre, worn with my dress uniform. That one was my father's. This one is my grandfather's." He picked it up and drew it. The blade whispered out of the ebony scabbard revealing the engraved blade. Although the steel needed polishing, Madari could see no sign of rust. Youssef had done a good job of protecting them.

"Ahmed used this in war," Madari said in a hushed voice. "It is the most precious thing I own. Or rather..." he smiled at how fanciful it sounded. "That I am the guardian of." Did a man 'own' a sword if he had not fought for his life with it?

Jahni looked at the sword, his gaze travelling up from the jet inlay of the hilt, along the graceful curve of the blade, reading the poetry stanzas about love engraved in exquisite calligraphy. Then he turned to look at Madari.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

~~~~

They went to bed shortly after that, both exhausted. Jahni took the tiny room used mostly for storage, but that held a narrow bed. Madari instructed Youssef to take him some towels and some fresh clothes for the morning. Some of Madari's clothes would have to suffice for now.

He retired to his own room, where Youssef had made the bed with freshly aired sheets and turned them down. How welcoming the bed looked. Madari said his night prayer and then undressed, put on a clean pair of pyjama trousers and got into bed. Sliding into the crisp linen sheets, he lay back, the good mattress supporting him, the pillow soft under his head. All so very different from the cot he'd slept on for nearly two years now. His own bed, after all this time. His own room, its familiar surroundings.

Like the rest of the house he'd kept his bedroom simple, the bed, the wardrobe, a low bookcase and a chest of drawers that held a hairbrush and other grooming items. A small mirror was screwed to the wall above that, adjusted precisely to Madari's height. The bookcase stood by the bed and on top of it he had a lamp, a jug of water and a glass, an alarm clock and a small stack of books. A rug lay by his bed on the polished wooden floor. In the morning he knew he'd put his feet onto that, his toes would sink into the pile and it would feel like unspeakable luxury.

As he reached for the lamp Madari looked at the stacked books. He couldn't even remember starting to read any of them, all that time ago now. This might be his own bedroom but it still felt at least a little like being in a guest room, or a hotel. Perhaps it would take a few days to feel like his own room again. He turned off the lamp and slid down into the bed sheets. For once he fell asleep within minutes.

~~~~

Youssef woke him the next morning, the sun already shining strongly into the room.

"Coffee, sir."

He placed the cup on the bedside table as Madari sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"What time is it?"

"After nine, sir."

Nine. A ridiculous hour for a soldier to sleep until.

"I've taken Lieutenant Jahni some coffee and I'm preparing breakfast."

"Thank you, Youssef."

Youssef left and Madari lay in bed sipping his coffee. He could hear the shower running, knew Jahni must be in there, so waited until he heard that turn off and a few moment later the bathroom door closing. Then he sat up, felt that unspeakable luxury as his toes sank into the soft rug, and gathered some clothes together. White clothes, genuinely white and not the grey of the ones he'd taken off last night. Those had mysteriously vanished now. Madari suspected that Youssef intended to burn them. It was far too late for mere washing.

When he opened the wardrobe, the first thing he saw was his uniform. His spare uniform, he should say, the one he'd worn the day of his arrest had long ago been destroyed. For a moment he stood and stared, then reached in to lift it out, into the light. Reaching up he hooked the hanger over the wardrobe door, then stepped back.

Nearly two years had passed now since he'd seen a Royal Guard uniform. Yet he recalled every detail of it. How could he not, when he'd grown up with his father and grandfather wearing it every day? Should he put it on? No. Not yet. He could put it on just to remind himself how he looked in it, but that served no purpose. When he felt ready to go back to barracks and report for duty; then he would put it on.

Until then he would just be a man. Just be Faris.

He put the uniform back into the wardrobe, then went to the bathroom to shower.

~~~~

After breakfast and despite a protest from Youssef, Madari took the old man's shopping list and basket and he and Jahni walked into the village to buy food and enjoy some fresh air and sunshine. Jahni wore a shirt and trousers belonging to Madari. The shirt was loose enough that it fit his bulkier shoulders and chest, but he did have to turn up the bottom couple of inches of the trousers. He still wore his sash. Youssef had certainly not made that disappear.

Madari had always guarded his privacy in the village and even now most of his neighbours respected that, though many people stared at him. A few men did come up to talk to him and shake his hand, though it seemed more a welcome home than the hero worship he'd feared.

The normality of it felt rather startling, to both of them. Seeing women around, passing the small school and seeing the children playing outside, running and laughing. It had all become so unfamiliar. Handling coins to give to the shopkeepers took a huge amount of concentration, as Madari tried to remember the value of coins and notes that he'd once identified with a glance.

As they finally walked back towards his house, Madari glanced at his watch and laughed.

"That should have taken thirty minutes and it took two hours."

Jahni grinned back at him. "I noticed. I'm the one carrying the basket after all." He passed the basket to his other hand, making an exaggerated sigh as if it dragged him down with its weight.

"You insisted," Madari said, teasing him again. "And after all you're the one who's already eaten me out of house and home."

"Me? I eat like a bird!"

"Yes, one of those French geese they force feed to make pate from."

~~~~

Madari woke with a start on a couch in the living room. Youssef stood over him.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir. It's almost dinner time."

Madari sat up, looking around. Jahni lay on the other couch, knees drawn up, also sleeping, a discarded book lying by his head.

"Dinner?" Madari rubbed his eyes. Then he'd slept since sitting down to relax after lunch, supposed Jahni had too. They both had so much sleep to catch up on. He stood up, stretching, then walked over to Jahni and shook his shoulder, until Jahni stirred and looked around confused.

"Youssef," Madari said, glancing at the calendar on the wall. "It's Wednesday today, isn't it? If I recall correctly Wednesday and Friday are your days off."

"They were, but..."

Madari shook his head, guessing what Youssef would say next, something about cooking dinner. On Youssef's nights off in the past Madari would usually eat out. Well he didn't feel much like going out tonight, but now he knew his way around a kitchen.

"Kahil and I can cook for ourselves tonight."

"We can?" Jahni said, sitting up, yawning and trying to tame his rumpled hair with his fingers.

Youssef put up an argument of course, but Madari insisted, knew on those days off Youssef met his friends at the village's coffee house to smoke the water pipes, drink tea and coffee, and talk about how much better things were in the old days.

So after Youssef left, Madari discovered his own kitchen. Though he decided he'd better leave everything exactly as he found it, because he might technically own the kitchen, but it was Youssef's domain.

He and Jahni laughed as they cooked, joking about having to use only pinches of seasonings instead of cupfuls, as they used pans a man could lift with one hand and not have to call a friend to grab the other side.

By the time Youssef returned, they had cleared up, and Madari hoped the kitchen met with Youssef's approval. If seemed to, as he smiled at it, and offered to make them tea before bed. After that they said goodnight.

Madari's room felt more like his own now and less like a hotel room. Personal touches had started to return. He'd taken away the books that had been stacked by the bed and replaced them with one he'd started to read since arriving home. He'd not read very much of it yet, since every time he tried to do so he found himself falling asleep. Perhaps in a few days he'd have caught up on enough sleep to stay awake for more than a page or two.

For the second night, he fell asleep in his own bed. Tomorrow, he thought as he drifted off, tomorrow I must see about getting the telephone reconnected and maybe buy a newspaper or listen to the radio or turn on the television. Or perhaps he would leave that until the day after. No rush to rejoin the world. Surely he deserved some rest? Kahil did too. Why rush to change anything?

~~~~

If nine had been a ridiculous time for a soldier to wake, then near ten was even more absurd. Madari found Jahni had already risen a couple of hours before and was sitting in the living room, reading. He smiled as the still sleepy looking Madari walked into the room, carrying a cup of coffee.

"If I go on like this I'll be getting up just in time for lunch."

"You need your rest," Jahni said. He glanced at the window. "It's a fine day, I was just thinking of going to sit outside."

"Sounds good. The fresh air may wake me up." As he followed Jahni to the door he noticed the swords they had dug up, lying on a table. "We should get those polished up and back on the wall. We'll do it after lunch."

In the garden they sat in a couple of lawn chairs and enjoyed the fine morning. In a few months it would be summer and too hot to sit out here in the sun without a canopy. But the weaker winter sun made it pleasant enough.

"Have you been sleeping well?" Jahni asked. "I, um, I haven't heard you cry out, but, well," he looked pained for a moment, almost guilty. "I've been sleeping pretty heavily myself."

"I haven't had any nightmares since coming home," Madari said. "And I've gone to sleep quickly." He smiled, shook his head. "And in case you're wondering, I'm not taking the sleeping pills either. Perhaps being back in my own bed makes a difference."

Jahni nodded. "I can imagine that. I always slept better at home on leave than I did at the barracks. Even with my sisters rampaging around, squealing." He laughed softly, enjoying the memory, Madari guessed, seeing the dreamy look on Jahni's face. I was right, Madari thought, to make him go to see their graves. He has moved on, can think about them in the past, and miss them of course, but recall the good times too. So I was right to take him there. And then to bring him home with me? And to feel so comfortable with him here in the house and to wish he could stay? That can't be right, can it?

Jahni sighed and stretched his legs out, slid down in his chair, relaxing. The breeze stirred his hair and he closed his eyes.

Sometimes Madari wished a moment could last forever. This moment felt like one of those times. Nothing so special, but special because of the normality of it. No battle coming. No raid, or sabotage mission to plan. Just two dear friends enjoying time together. Nothing on his schedule except lunch.

The moment could not last forever, but it could last until lunch and he relished every second of it.

end chapter 1