Work Text:
The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along” Rumi.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations
"Aram needs you; please come home."
Samar Navabi blinks in surprise at the brisque request from her usually quiet aunt. There are many reasons that her aunt could summon her back to America, conveniently forgetting the time difference and the irregular hours at Interpol Beauru in Germany. Since her American relatives took her after Mossad's failed recruitment, there were many clashes between the traditional expectations and Samar's desire for vengeance.
The possible misfortune of Aram Mojtabai was not on the top of her lists for considerations.
"Janet broke up with him..."
"Auntie despite what everyone thinks Aram is grown, frankly brilliant man. He will survive a broken heart" Samar trying to keep her voice even.
At the same time, her words aren't strictly accurate. The son of her family's closest friends has multiple degrees and a kind heart but a social awkwardness that limits his friend group. Aram is a lecturer in computer science who consults with the FBI. If he committed to a relationship, it was a serious undertaking. Still, it didn't warrant and a specific phone call in the middle of the working day. The man in question would be mortified if he knew such was occurring, she wants to wrap up the conversation for his dignity alone.
Her family isn't aware of their falling out or the cruel words they exchanged when Aram tries to confess his feelings on a joint family holiday. Samar did her best to cure him of a passing infatuation her expertise in the area of human psychology were devastatingly effective. The stricken look on his face as he turned and disappeared into the bustling Cario marketplace still makes her ill. The long months of undercover work are almost a relief.
"Janet was only with him for his access to some classified material. When he refused several thugs bet him for hours until he was able to send a coded message" her aunt sounds genuinely distraught as he relayed the conversation.
Elizabeth Keen looks up in concern as the pen Samar didn't realise she was tapping snapped under the pressure of a vice-like clench. They are sharing lunch in the lobby cafe and the resistance fighter in her resists taking the personal call at work, even if the FBI agent was one of her closest friends.
"Tell me exactly what happened, don't leave anything out" Samar tries her best not to sound like the interrogator she is in the switch to Balochi, a language she rarely uses anymore even with family.
"That poor boy. They beat him so badly, broke bones and punched a lung. For a while, the doctors were worried about a brain injury, and Zosi is staying with him but he won't...."
Samar tries to conceal a wave of irritation lest she destroys anymore stationary. It's natural that her aunt's primary concern will be relaying how the man she considers a son is recovering. The endless descriptions of the Mojtabai's family's terror and worry don't reveal anything useful. There is no easy way to interrupt the flow of conversation, and she is momentarily distracted by Liz writing furiously on a napkin and shoving it across the table.
"You have weeks of leave - I'll cover you and arrange with HR."
Samar wants to protest that they are far too busy with the instability within Europe and Interpol's efforts to stay ahead of traffickers and fugitives. The paperwork on both their desks isn't getting any smaller if anything Liz who is on a professional sabbatical since returning from maternity leave has a more massive load. Instead, she finds herself nodding in silent appreciation.
"I'll be home on the next flight, Auntie. I promise"
***
It doesn't take long for Samar to learn the details there are advantages to working for Interpol and still having numerous contacts from her time in Israel. Liz tracks down the relevant reports and intel files without comment.
'Janet Southerland' is a skilled mole but her cover isn't overly sophisticated likely one of many operations she is involved in as underlying for hire. The specific assignment is to gain to Intel taking advantage of Arram's security clearance and giving nature. It would be distressingly easy to integrate yourself into his life as he loves routine and is so passionate about his hobbies. Samar could have run such an operation in her sleep, and she doubts Janet needed to study hard. A mixture of rebounding and trusting that would serve the agent well.
Samar Navabi still spends the 4126 miles back to Washington plotting inventive and painful ways to seek revenge on the woman that dares to hurt Aram in such a way. Plotting goes a small to lessen her guilt.
***
Her family's warnings did not go far enough.
Samar shock isn't for his physical ailments; the agent has seen plenty more violent and skilful beatings in her time in counterterrorism, she's inflected worse injuries without remorse and also seen dear friends withstand interrogation. The emotion she felt as they hovered awkwardly in the doorway is for the humiliated and defeated hunch of Aram's shoulders and the lifelessness in his eyes. The sweat computer scientist doesn't deserve the darkness of being in the field Samar desperately wants him to retain his enthusiasm for life in all its forms.
"The Auntie Intelligence network strikes again, huh?"
"Something like that"
Aram lets her in with an uncomfortable shuffle. Since Cairo they haven’t been estranged exactly but she wasn’t sure of her reception. Her impulsive flight across the world feels foolish without the adrenaline.
”It’s not as bad as it looks. The doctors think I’ll be back in action after 8 weeks or so. It’s not like teaching computers and FBI consulting involves heavy lifting. The dizziness every time I move isn’t fun though. Guess I’m not playing Klingon in Trek Cosplay”
” It will pass once your blood pressure and energy level stabilise” Samar offers confidently as she closes the door.
”This must be another day at this office type injury for you, right?
”It never gets easy to see a friend in pain no matter the circumstances”
***
"You've done your duty. I won't rat to Auntie if you want to leave"
Samar doesn't acknowledge the statement as she moves around the apartment cleaning and straightening the uncharacteristically messy space, even his treasured gaming and personal computer monitors are dusty and speckled with takeaway stains.
Aram is resting on the couch absently looking at the stack of DVDs Samar brought. At his feet is a specily designed pillow for sleep with chest damage along with a bag of loose-fitting nightwear and low impact exercise list. Even though they haven't spoken in months, the routine is still comforting.
"A punctured lung, concussion, numerous broken bones isn't, but they are far from comfortable. I speak from experience - I'll do some of the tasks you'll find challenging and move things lower so you can reach."
"Thank you."
Samar hopes that this opening for them to start communicating more. She fears for the state of their friendship and realises now how painful that loss would be. Her aunt expects her to work a miracle when others failed. For now, her plan involves cleaning, preparing food and learning how to play Dungeons and Dragons.
Tracking down international terrorist feels less daunting.
***
"Do you want to know the most pathetic part?
Truefully Samer is enjoying their quiet game of chess and keeping the injured man distracted with tales from around the world. A trace of his usual energy laces his questions and comments. However, equally, she wants to listen to him in a way that his family can't. The Mojtabais are distraught and defensive - his family, won't hear Janet's name without cursing.
"I knew that the chances were high that I was a security target, but I still wanted to believe. At least enough to look past the obvious clues."
"She is trained to exploit people Aaram - you overlooked clues because Janet engineered doubts and did her job well. People don't invest the time and money in honey traps without using their best operatives.
”Stunningly intelligent, witty, caring and likes me, what are the chances? He asks bitterly
It’s a milder rebuke than she probably deserves but it still hurts to see his pain. There are no words she can offer in protest so she waits for safer ground.
”You wouldn’t fall for such an obvious ploy would you?” he challenges
”In my own way that’s exactly what happened before I came from Iran. People charmed me with promises of vengeance and justice. The vulnerability can happen to anyone no matter how strong they appear”
***
The days turn into weeks.
Samar cites a family emergency for extending her leave, and the paperwork goes through without incident. She will be doing the graveyard shift for a while, but the sacrifice is worth it in the effort to help Aaram heal both physically and psychologically.
Physical rehabilitation is something Samar is very familiar with; it doesn't take long to set up a routine designed to strength his weak left side and build his confidence in riding again. They start with simple stretches and light weights, but Aaram quickly progresses to jogs and sparring sessions.
Healing his psychological scars presents more of a challenge. Janet did her job well and even though he suspected a mole his feelings were real. He allowed himself to be intimate with her in more than just a physical way, which is a terrifying prospect. The only comfort Smar can offer is the stark reality of how effective these agents are if given the right briefing.
The long talks over takeout and boardgames and mutually therapeutic as he listens to her case frustrations with interest and keen insights. Samar came so close to loosing this connection and pain hits her every day.
Samar misses her parents every day, but she feels the absence most when she faces a dilemma. The rest of the family tries, but there is no substitute for a lifetime of intimacy. Her mother would know what to do about escalating feelings and conflicted impulses.
She liked to think her parents would approve of this life. It’s not the path they would have chosen for her but Samar Navabi is surviving.
Her father would chuckle to see his daughter becoming the primary caregiver for young turtle with free range of the apartment. Aram is devoted to him and carefully explains his toys and supplies.
Oddly enough Samar bonds with his turtle after taking over feeding and tank maintenance. The reptile is playful and energetic in a strange way as he waddles around the apartment. He doesn’t mind when she confesses feelings for his owner.
Strange bedfellows indeed.
***
It's a long time since Samar felt so nervous.
In fact, she can't recall feeling this particular combination of anxiety and excitement before. She is sitting in Aram's lounge which is becoming more familiar than her apartment in DC. The man in question is diligently trying to fix her aunt's computer after the older woman got hacked. There isn’t going a perfect time to broach the subject and somehow it was fitting for their friendship.
"Will you go on a date with me?"
Aram is so focused on the mess that is Samar's laptop hard drive that for a second he didn't register the words. They certainly bare no resemblance to their conversation about protecting Mrs Navabi personal computer from a labyrinth of viruses. This Sunday is comforting and familiar as they shared a light lunch and before doing a workout to strengthen his weakened body.
A surge of anger makes him push the tray away and glower at the woman clutching her tea unexpectedly. He can at least retain enough dignity to standout without shaking or stumbling.
"Get Out"
The usually unflappable agent looks genuinely startled by his reaction and shuffles to the door, it is oddly gratifying that she at least takes his emotions seriously.
"Aram..."
"No matter how pathetic I may seem right now I don't need your pity or indulgence my 'sentimentality..'" he spits out the word she used so long ago.
"Aram.."
"At the very least I thought we were becoming friends again..."
Samar tries to approach him again her voice soft and, but Aram looks out the window, horrified to feel his throat tightening and tears stinging the back of his eyes. If he knew this woman at all, she would have enough dignity to pretend not to notice.
Of all the options available to the renowned agent and strategist at this moment, Arram does not expect her to fling his limited edition Dr Who pillow at his head. The object is soft, but the woman has the reflexes of solider, so the aim is true and surprisingly hard. He blinks at the object in question as it lands at his feet.
"That's a limited edition" he offers with more wonder than anger in his voice.
"I'll haunt the ComicCons and get you a new one. You weren't stopping, and I didn't want to undo any of our rehab work by shoving you into a wall, your parents and my aunt would never forgive me." Samar offers defensively with a stiff shrug.
"Okay..." Aram replies uncertainly lowing himself back to the couch uncertain what to do now but not wanting to risk more soft object attacks.
Samar is one of the calmest people he knows by both temperament and training. Ever since she moved across the street from the Mojtabai amidst tragedy, there was a self-possession to her that his more nervous disposition couldn't help but admire. There is no sign of that rigid discipline now as her long legs pace the confines of his small living room and her hands twitch nervously.
"I'm an interrogator and former resistance fighter, heck the only thing that keeps assassin off my file is being on the right side of international law at the time."
"I know who you are Samar"
"The position suits me perfectly. I was a heartbroken and restful kid whose parents and brother died under a repressive regime. My anger and skills were for anybody to hire and I've spent the last 15 years stoaking that fire with a romantic quest for something close to justice. I've never really moved on from that state - zero interpersonal skills, a trail of bad relationships and borderline self-destructive. My psych profile does not make for pretty reading. Someone like you deserves all the light in the world. Samar continues to explain distantly as if she hasn't heard him.
"Those words I said in Cairo were calculated to hurt you and protect me. I was genuinely concerned that you ideolised me and were blind to that fact I am far from that warrior princess you like so much”
Samar suddenly turns to face him and sinks to sit in from of the couch a strange expression on her face. She holds a hand to forestall his protest. Aram freezes as she grasps his undamaged hand and strokes his trembling fingers.
“I was wrong – my motives were almost honourable but these past few weeks have shown me how wrong the original hypothesis was. You see me better than anyone and still look at me like I wove the sunrise”
“When you helped me expel the mucus in my lungs and analysed what colour it was? That was your turning point?” Aram jokes to lighten the mood wincing at the memory”
“When you stayed most of the night to help me through a nightmare with my favourite tea on hand. I almost lost you to a third rate spy with Bitcoin aspirations . Chances were high that I’ll loose you to a perfectly charming nurse. Someone who sees how amazing you are without the hang ups and extensive knowledge of the 4th Doctor Who”
“Simple is overated and there Is plenty of time to teach you the wonders of the Tardis”
Samar is afraid to speak caught between relief, happiness and nervousness. Instead she leans forward and cradles his face. The kiss is tender and almost chaste especially when he wipes away her unexpected tears.
”We’ll go bike riding in the morning”