He would be different. Six months of probably the toughest military training in the world. Yes, Jahni would be different.

Madari stood at Arrivals, hands behind his back, trying to imagine he'd glued his shoes to the floor, since that way he couldn't pace up and down. The plane from London had landed at 6pm, twenty minutes ago, but its passengers hadn't started coming through to Arrivals yet. Disembarking, baggage claim, customs. It all took time.

Perhaps Madari shouldn't have arrived at the airport an hour early.

At last, after he'd checked his watch ten more times at least, the passengers from the London flight started to appear. A mix of locals and Westerners, some greeting families and friends, some heading straight for taxis. And then Madari saw him.

Jahni strode out of arrivals, carrying a suit carrier, a flight bag, and with a backpack on his back. More luggage than he'd left with, making Madari wonder what souvenirs he'd brought home.

He wore sunglasses, and Western style clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. Rather a tight t-shirt, compared to what was considered decent around here. It showed off the fact that he'd put on even more muscle since he left.

Madari took a few steps forward, then stopped and waved. Jahni saw him and his face changed from a grumpy and tired scowl to a huge grin. His pace increased, and Madari again had to fight to stay in one place. He would not run and throw himself into Jahni's arms, he vowed. Especially not while he was in uniform.

Jahni walked up to him, dropped the bags and pulled off the sunglasses. Madari stared into his eyes, before Jahni grabbed him into an embrace, and he surrendered to the moment. Jahni was different. Even stronger than before. And he smelled different, different soap and shampoo of course. But he was Kahil and he was here. No longer a dream. See him with my eyes open.

They didn't speak as they held each other. Madari couldn't speak, not without betraying the depth of his joy. Not without revealing the tremor in his voice.

Time to break apart. The people here didn't know them, might think they were brothers, family. But even so, to hold him too long would look... odd. So they moved apart, but Madari couldn't help reaching out to put a hand on Jahni's shoulder.

"Welcome home, Kahil. And congratulations on your success."

"Thanks," Jahni said. "I would say 'it was nothing' but I was raised to tell the truth."

"You look very well." Oh, so very well. Tanned and fitter than ever. "Now, come on, let's get out of the way here." He grabbed one of Jahni's bags, Jahni grabbed the other and they headed away from Arrivals, towards the exit to the car park.

"Did you come straight from the barracks?" Jahni nodded at Madari's uniform.

"Yes. Are you looking forward to getting back into your uniform?"

"Absolutely. Though I think I'm going to need a visit to the quartermaster first for a bigger size."

"I can see that. You look as if you've spent the entire six months in the gym."

Jahni laughed. "I don't think I've been in the gym once! Who needs the gym when you've got all that hands on experience? And of course," he said, with an affected casual air. "Once I have a new uniform jacket I'll have to sew my parachutist wings on it."

"Ah, yes. I've been making arrangements for parachute training for the unit."

"And for you?"

Madari grimaced. Parachuting did not appeal to him very much. Hanging under Sheik Elahi's chopper when they rescued Jahni had been the nearest he'd come to it. That experience got an occasional replay in his dreams, making him wake sweating. He was a cavalryman at heart, a hussar. You couldn't parachute with a horse. Well, possibly you could, but the horse would object.

"I suppose a commander has to lead by example," he said, without enthusiasm. Jahni slapped him on the back.

"You'll love it. I promise. It's exhilarating."

"Well, that's one word. Not the first one that came into my mind, I must admit."

Jahni laughed again. So good to hear that laugh. Was he so different? Did he walk differently? Command the space around him differently? Hard to say, so far. Right now the familiarity of him preoccupied Madari.

"Oh, thank you for my birthday gift," Madari said, remembering it suddenly. He raised his right arm to let his sleeve fall back and show the beads on his wrist.

"You're welcome. Do you like them?"

"Very much." He touched the beads with his other hand and then pulled his cuff back down over them.

"Enough to wear them with your uniform. Now that can't be regulation. If I tried that, I'd get a reprimand."

"Like the one I'll give you if you don't get a haircut before you report for duty."

Jahni grinned and then winked at him. "I'm sure you once said you like my hair longer."

Madari swallowed and felt a slight flush in his cheeks. "That's as maybe, but Colonel Rahama has expressed no such preference."

Jahni chuckled at the stern tone, recognising it as teasing.

"Anyway," Madari said. "I don't wear the beads with my uniform, usually. Just today, for you coming home."

"Well, thanks. When do I have to report for duty by the way?"

They reached Madari's car and started loading the luggage in the back.

"In three days time. I'm giving you two days to get settled back in, complete any personal business you need to take care of. Then I want you back at barracks, hair cut, fresh uniform and ready to produce a full report on your training."

"Yes, boss." Jahni saluted, making Madari roll his eyes at him. "Got all my notes in here." He patted his flight bag. "I'll write up my report and then we'll draw up the recruits' training programme?"

"Excellent." Madari didn't want to talk work now though. "But don't worry about that until you're back on duty. Get in, I'll take you home."

As they drove out of the underground car park and into the bright sunlight, Jahni slipped his sunglasses back on. Madari shook his head at that.

"It's not all that bright today and it's almost twilight. Are you going soft on me?"

"I'd like to see how you react to the sun after months tabbing around bloody Wales."

"I believe it was summer in Wales too."

"They've got a whole different concept of summer there."

Madari laughed at that. Quite true, he thought, quite true. He manoeuvred out into traffic and headed for Jahni's flat.

"So how have you been?" Jahni asked. "Spending all your time with that bird?"

Madari clenched the steering wheel for a moment and his heart thumped in his ears. He meant the falcon, surely? Then again, British slang, which Jahni must have picked up plenty of, referred to women as 'birds'. Was this a test? Did he know about Sophia and was waiting for Madari to tell him? Or trying to find out if Madari intended to tell him at all?

"What's her name? Ruya?"

Madari sighed. The falcon. But he still had to tell Jahni about Sophia some time. He dreaded it and castigated himself for that dread. He had no reason to fear telling Jahni. No decent, sensible reason. But at the same time he had many reasons. He would feel like a man confessing to an infidelity.

Seeing Jahni looking at him, still waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Oh, yes, I've been training a lot with Ruya. I'll take you to see her when you have time."

"Great."

Madari glanced at him. He looked relaxed, smiling. He couldn't know, could he? But how would Madari expect him to act if he did know about Sophia? With jealous rage? Absurd. Would he even expect Madari to tell him at all? Certainly they told each other many things, secrets never shared with anyone else. But about women?

But he couldn't help recalling when Jahni had found out about Madari's ex-wife and the anger and bitterness he'd displayed. What had provoked that anger? Feeling he'd been lied to? Or jealousy?

I have to tell him, Madari thought. Soon. When I'm ready. He would find out anyway, so it should be soon. Gossip about Madari and Sophia was circulating very nicely, just as he'd intended. And then of course, at some point, they should meet. Sophia had already mentioned that she wanted to meet Jahni in fact. For a moment, he pictured introducing them to each other.

"Are you okay?" Jahni said. "You look pale suddenly."

"Er, I'm fine." Madari took a breath. Later. He'd think about that later.

"So, how is everyone? How's Idris? The baby must be getting big now. Has Idris bought him a car yet?" He laughed.

"I don't see him very often these days. He spends a lot of time with Raslan actually."

"Raslan!" Jahni straightened in his seat, scowling. "Isn't he in jail yet?"

"Why would he be in jail?" Madari asked.

"I'm sure the police could find a reason." He folded his arms, still scowling. "Why is Raslan seeing a lot of Idris, what do you suppose he wants? He's probably after Janan."

"Kahil!"

Jahni shrugged, not apparently sorry, then sat back in his seat again and sighed. "Oh, I don't want to talk about that bastard." He glanced at Madari, who frowned his disapproval of the swearing. "Sorry. So, how's my flat? Any problems?"

"No, it's fine. Well that time all those squatters got in was a pain to deal with..."

Jahni stared at him for a moment, and then when Madari grinned he gave him a light punch on the arm.

"Very funny."

"That's 'very funny, sir'. Remember Face's advice. Always laugh at your commander's jokes."

"Has Face been over for any of the consultancy runs? Or Murdock or BA?"

"No, only Hannibal. He sends his regards, by the way. He'll be delighted to hear how well you did. He'll be back in a couple of weeks, and this time Sergeant Baracus is coming too."

"BA! Great!" He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "I'll have to challenge him to some sparring."

"Kahil, you did Selection, you weren't given superpowers."

~~~~

Faraj had begun to wonder if he'd been wrong.

He saw Madari leave the barracks, heading to the airport to collect Jahni. And he started to think again about his old suspicions about their relationship. That suspicion seemed more absurd all of the time.

Because of this woman, Sophia Giordano. Madari had been seeing her for some months now. They didn't hide their relationship and it had become a subject of gossip in the circles Faraj and Janan moved in.

Faraj wasn't sure whether to approve or not. She wasn't an Arab. But then again, assuming they were sleeping together, their relationship was inherently sinful, so better that he didn't compromise the honour of one of their own. Westerners cared little about such things. But at least he was seeing a woman.

What if it had simply taken Madari this long to even be capable of taking an interest in women again? His torture ordeal still affected him now, Faraj knew. If some of the long term problems he'd suffered had been sexual...

Heat rose to his face and he turned his mind away from that. It could be the case though, that Madari was still returning only slowly to normality. And the relationship with Jahni, while it had got out of hand in the intense atmosphere of the camp, seemed to be more normal now. Madari appeared less dependant on Jahni. After all, he had allowed him to go to England for six months, when he could easily have found a way to prevent that.

That made him think about Jahni himself. He'd come to believe he must have misjudged him too, to imagine he desired an intimate relationship with Madari. After all a man with that kind of perversion in his character, that kind of weakness could surely not manage to complete the SAS training?

It took more than physical fitness to make it through such training. It took strength of character too. Special Forces methods may make Faraj uncomfortable, but even he was prepared to acknowledge that their training was something no ordinary man, no ordinary soldier even, could make it through. And yet Jahni had.

He sighed and went to sit at his desk. Why was he having these doubts now? Some lingering guilt perhaps? No. He had no regrets about joining Zahir's conspiracy, and he would see that through to the end. But he had worries, about Madari and Jahni. They would be on the losing side, but he had no desire to see them hurt. Even if they were no longer his friends, they had all fought shoulder to shoulder. They owed each other their very lives.

He remained convinced of one thing though, that Jahni didn't belong in the Royal Guard. When he took over, Jahni would be sent back to the Southern Rangers. Perhaps he would eventually see that this was for the best.

Actually, Raslan had been the one to convince him that would be in Jahni's best interests. Jahni was a brilliant soldier, Raslan said. He could have a great career. But in the Royal Guard he would always be tied to Madari, would always ride his coattails.

And of course, Madari's future in the Guard no longer bore the same promise it once had. He would not command the regiment. He would never make general officer, not while Zahir ruled. In fact, though Faraj would not force him out, he could see no place for Madari in the regiment after the coup. He had reached the limits of how far his grandfather's name would take him.

Of course the future of the two of them depended very much on how cooperative they were prepared to be after the coup. If they gracefully accepted the new situation, they would have their freedom. If not, well, they would have the freedom to follow Atuallah into exile.

Still, he worried about them. If they resisted the coup, in the days while feelings were high, anything might happen. And the law changes that Zahir had planned wouldn't suit either of them. Not Madari and his liberal tendencies, and certainly not Jahni, with his disgracefully lax religious practice. Faraj hated their ideas, but would he see Madari and Jahni forced to their knees to comply with the new laws? Or see them hurt if they resisted?

He walked to the window again and opened it this time. The breeze carried in the scent of the desert and perhaps because he had Jahni in his mind, it triggered a memory of the camp. Jahni attacking Ghaith. Trying to kill him, to avenge... He stopped there, not wanting to recall the exact reason. He had learnt to shut that out of his mind long ago. Even he and Javid Noor had only ever referred to Ghaith "beating" Faraj. If the past was only what you remembered then you could change the past by choosing what to remember.

Right then, he remembered the bloodlust, and the gratitude. Jahni did what Faraj didn't have the strength to. He'd risked death by doing it, and Faraj could never stop being grateful for that.

Nor could he stop being grateful for the fact Madari had killed that monster later. Noor told him, yelling it into his ear, over the noise of the helicopter blades, while Madari secured the rescued Jahni in the back. 'Ghaith was there. Faris shot him. The bastard's dead.' Perhaps not the very sweetest words he'd ever heard, but some of the most satisfying.

At the time he'd still been full of anger against Madari, for what he'd allowed Faraj and Noor to do, torture that soldier for information to rescue Jahni. That disgust and bitterness had overwhelmed the gratitude and by the time he'd thought he should thank Madari for it, too much time had passed, and he couldn't do it. None of them wanted to talk much about that whole incident.

The gratitude lingered, though the bitterness about that did too. He could feel both, and it meant he owed Madari, and Jahni, some consideration. It meant he had an obligation to protect them.

He reached for the phone and in a moment Raslan's voice answered him.

"It's me," Faraj said. "I need to talk to you. I want some reassurances."

~~~~

Jahni opened his fridge and smiled at the sight of the food there. When they arrived at the flat the night before, he'd found it spotless instead of dusty and the fridge and freezer switched on and stocked up. Madari had been busy. He took out a box of eggs and started cracking them into a bowl.

They'd talked for hours, until he finally chased Madari out to go home, well after midnight. Unlike Jahni, Madari had to report for duty first thing in the morning. He'd have been at work for a few hours now in fact, Jahni thought, glancing at the wall clock. Almost 10am. Quite a lie-in for a soldier. Well he hadn't had many chances to sleep late in the last few months, that was for sure.

Dressed only in shorts and a robe, he took coffee and scrambled eggs into the living room and lounged on the sofa. A large stack of mail on his small desk caught his eye and he grimaced. Oh, what fun to go through that lot. Still, it should be mostly personal things; Madari had dealt with bills and the like.

Finishing his eggs, he dumped the plate back in the kitchen and sat with his feet up again, more coffee and the stack of correspondence. Should he check the oldest or the most recent first? Or flick through and find the most interesting. That was definitely his preferred method. He started to flick and stopped after a while at an envelope that bore the crest of the Southern Rangers.

What might his old regiment be writing to him about? Perhaps they were going to charge him for the uniform he'd been wearing when he was arrested. That was the Army for you.

He tore open the envelope, and found a typed letter, from Colonel Mohd himself. He started out with his hopes that Jahni was well, and that when he came back from his training abroad that he would continue to progress in the Royal Guard, went on about how proud he was of Jahni's success, which they often talked of here at the Rangers.

But this wasn't just an encouraging note, Jahni realised as he read the next paragraph.

'You may have almost forgotten it, but I have finally managed to get the Army to release your back pay from the time you were wrongfully arrested until your transfer to the Royal Guard. You may already know this; the money has been transferred into your bank account. I am sorry it took so long and I hope this didn't cause you too much inconvenience in the interim.'

Jahni stared. He hadn't actually checked his bank account for weeks, not needing to access his money very much during his training. He knew his Royal Guard salary was being paid into it automatically, and had been looking forward to seeing the nice sum that would have built up to when he was spending so little of it. But this...

He scrambled off the sofa to the telephone, and found the number of his bank. A few minutes later he put the phone down feeling dazed. He wasn't rich, but right this minute, he felt rich. The bank manager had been very nice to him on the telephone and suggested that he called in, at his convenience of course, to discuss the best way to place the money. Well, Jahni knew at least some of it he'd be placing with Madari, to pay him back for this flat.

Grinning, he wandered into the kitchen to make more coffee. The sun shone strongly through the window making the linoleum warm under his bare feet. Pretty good start to the day. Pretty damn good.

He brought more of the letters into the kitchen with him and dropped them on the table while he made the coffee. Then with a cup at his side, he sat and started flicking through them again. He read several from friends, including Murdock, who always made him smile. He wished Murdock would come over with Hannibal. Face too. It would be great for them all to get together again. And since his training he had a million questions he wanted to ask them. Oh well, at least Hannibal and BA would be here soon.

A large, board-backed envelope intrigued him. His name and address was typed on a label stuck to it, but it had nothing to indicate who it was from, no company frank, or return address. He opened the envelope and slid out the contents.

A letter, well, more like a note, only a few words, typed again, and no name or signature.

'Welcome home, Kahil. I'm sure you must be happy to know that Faris has not been too lonely while you were away. Her name is Sophia Giordano.'