Work Text:
Northern Iraq 2087:
"Here," Nicolò said as he handed Nile a mug. "I don't know if we can call it tea since I used something that wasn't tea, but it will warm us."
"Thanks," Nile replied as she took the mug. "I'll just use my imagination and imagine that it's tea."
Nicolò laughed as he sat down with his mug.
"Farah sent me a photo today," Nicolò said. "She is almost 6 months pregnant."
"And everything goes according to the plan?" Nile asked and Nicolò nodded. "That is good to hear."
"Wanna see a photo of my son?" Nicolò wanted to know.
"Is that even a question?" Nile asked. "You have talked about Farah and your son for months. I feel as if I know them."
"When we're done here, you're invited to meet them," Nicolò said as he handed Nile his phone. "I can't wait to play football with my son."
"I can understand that," Nile replied. "I got a friend who talks about football all the time when he isn't speaking of his husband."
"Please tell me he at least got a good taste in football clubs," Nicolò said. "I haven't forgiven Frank for being a fan of Liverpool."
"My friend says he is a fan of Roma FC when his Italian husband is around," Nile replied. "But in secret, he is a big fan of Ajax."
"Sounds a lot like what I'm doing," Nicolò said. "When Farah is around I love her cooking, but in secret, I'm still working on the courage to tell her she can't cook."
"My old granny used to say there're some things better left untold," Nile said. "For the sake of one's marriage."
"I guess your granny got a point," Nicolò replied. "I'll remember that the next time Farah serves burned lamb."
Nile threw some more wood on the fire.
"I don't mean to pry," Nile said. "But how come you got an Italian name, when you're Kurdish?"
"It's a name given to every firstborn son in my family for the last 7 generations," Nicolò replied. "As a way to show gratitude to the man who saved my ancestors."
"That's beautiful," Nile said. "And a very kind gesture."
"It's yes," Nicolò replied. "Do you want to hear the story I'm going to tell my son when he asks why he got an Italian name?"
"If you want," Nile replied. "Is not like we can go to the cinema."
"True," Nicolò replied. "The story starts with a young couple, who had to flee their village when the Sultan of Turkey forced drafted young men for a long forgotten war."
7 Generations Ago:
Afran had seen his older brothers being dragged away by the Sultan's soldiers with the words "It's an honour to fight for the Sultan", but everyone in their village knew there was no honour in it because the young men who had been taken away, never returned home.
When Afran turned 20, he married Naza who was a year younger. For two years they lived their life peacefully and were expecting their first child in the winter. Then on a fall day, rumours reached the villiage that every young man between the age of 15 and 25 was to be force drafted. In their village, there were only four young men including Afran. While the sound of mothers crying for the sons they were about to lose for good could be heard all over the village, Naza was furious.
"Then we leave," Naza said as she started putting bread in a bag. "I refuse to lose both my husband and son for a war I don't believe in."
"Naza," Afran said. "I can't ask you to risk your or the child's life by coming with me. If we're caught together, the Sultan's soldiers will kill you both."
"Is not up for discussion," Naza replied. "We'll leave together because if it means I get one more day with you then it's what we do."
Afran knew that once his wife had made her mind up, he couldn't change it at all. Maybe if they could cross the border before Naza was due, then maybe there was a chance for a new life for them. Reluctantly, Afran said that Naza could come with him. At dawn, they left their house with only what they could carry in two bags together with the few coins they had.
For the next two weeks, they made slow progress with getting over the border because Naza couldn't walk as fast as normal because of her being eight months pregnant. What they hadn't counted on was a snowstorm. As the snowstorm increased in strength it became harder for them to walk. When Afran looked away briefly to see if he could find shelter, he realized he had lost Naza.
"NAZA??" Afran shouted. "NAZA?? NAZA?? WHERE ARE YOU?"
Afran shouted and shouted, while he searched for his wife. But he couldn't see anything because of the snowstorm. Suddenly he bumped into someone.
"Naza?" Afran asked but realized it was one of the Sultan's soldiers. "I'll serve my time in the army, just help me find my wife. She is pregnant."
The soldier looked at Afran like he didn't understand Afran. Then Afran felt a rope being tied around his wrists and his heart broke when the soldier pulled Afran with him. While being dragged crossed the heavy snow, Afran kept on searching for Naza but in vain. Afran couldn't see anything because of the snowstorm and repeated his prayer for help to find his wife.
It felt like they walked for what felt like hours until they reached a small cabin. When they stood inside, Afran sank down on his knees.
"My wife," Afran begged. "Please find her. She is pregnant."
Then Afran heard a scream.
"My good friend found your wife in the snowstorm," The soldier said who looked just like Afran. "She has broken her arm and is in labour, but doing fine."
The soldier untied Afran's wrists.
"Get out of the wet clothes," The soldier said. "Or else you end up catching a cold."
Afran didn't move but looked at the soldier.
"I know I'm a deserter," Afran said. "Please spare the life of my wife and child. They have no part in my crimes."
"I'm not one of the Sultan's soldiers, so I won't kill you," The man replied as he handed Afran dry clothes. "You have no guilt in this war."
Another man came into the room. Afran had never seen a man with pale skin and eyes like that before. The two men whispered something to each other before the pale skin man returned to what Afran assumed was the bedroom.
"Your child is breech. Do you know what that means?" The man asked. Afran shook his head. "It means that the bottom comes first instead of the head." Afran looked confused at the man. "And that's why my friend is better at explaining this. He is a doctor after all."
"Will they die?" Afran wanted to know as he stared towards the bedroom, where he could hear Naza scream.
"I can't answer that, but trust me when I say, my friend will do everything in his power to make sure, they both live," The man replied. "And you need to get out of the wet clothes before you catch a cold or worse. Something your wife or child doesn't need."
Afran got out of the wet clothes without taking an eye off the bedroom.
"Eat this," The man said and handed Afran a bowl of soup. "It will give you your strength back."
The man sat down on the floor and took a piece of paper to draw on.
"Who are you?" Afran wanted to know. "If you won't turn me in, then what do you want with us?"
"Let's talk after your wife has given birth, and you all got some strength back," The man replied. "But you're safe."
Afran quickly drank the soup as he looked towards the bedroom.
"Your friend," Afran asked. "You said he was a doctor. Has he delivered children before?"
"More than I can remember," The man replied. "Trust me."
Afran nodded. The only thing two things that could be heard in the cabin were the sound of the snowstorm and Naza screaming.
"Naza," The man said. "I need you to do what I tell you. Can you do that and soon you'll have your child in your arms."
Naza nodded before she screamed because of the contraction. Then her legs were placed on two chairs and were told to bend her legs before the man pulled her butt to the edge of the bed. She couldn't see what the man was doing, but he told her what to do next.
"Congratulation," The man said as he looked at Afran when they heard a child scream. "You're a father."
Seconds later the pale man came out with a child in his arms which he placed in Afran's arms.
"You got yourself a son," The pale man said with a smile. "Make sure he doesn't freeze."
The pale man returned to Naza. Afran looked at his son and took his little hand in his.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, son," Afran said. "For taking you and your mother on this journey."
The man placed a big heavy cape around Afran's shoulder.
"You did what you needed to do. I promise you that the next step on your journey will be different," The man said as he saw the pale skin man. "Go and see your wife."
Afran nodded and went into the bedroom, where he placed their son in Naza's arms. Then Afran begged Naza for her forgiveness for bringing them in danger. Naza said she didn't blame Afran for anything but thanked him for their son. Neither Afran nor Naza saw the men until the snowstorm was over a couple of days later.
"We're a part of the underground route that helps families escaping the Sultan's war," The man said. "We can take you somewhere where you're safe. All three. But it's up to you to decide."
"We have no money to pay you," Afran said. "All we have is each other."
"You don't need to pay us," The pale skin man said. "We do it for free."
"I don't know," Afran said. "I have a hard time..."
"Afran," Naza said when she placed a hand on Afran's arm. "These men saved us, saved our son. I think we can trust them."
"Ok, you're usually right, Naza," Afran said. "We trust you with our lives."
"Could we know your names?" Naza asked.
"I'm Yusuf," Yusuf said. "And this is Nicolò."
Northern Iraq 2087:
"Six months later, they arrived in London," Nicolò said. "Not alone did the two men make sure that they got a house, papers, and enough money to start a new life, but it also turned out that the underground route saved many young men and many of their friends and that they were waiting for Afran and Naza."
"That's truly amazing," Nile said. "What happened to Yusuf and Nicolò?"
"We never found out. Just as they turned out of nowhere, they disappeared into nowhere," Nicolò replied. "Afran and Naza never forgot the man, who didn't ask for any payment for saving Naza and her child. As a thank, they named their son Nicolò and told him the tale about the man who saved his life. That's why the first Nicolò went into medical school and became a paediatrician, so he could help save other children. Now, seven generations later, I'm still continuing the tradition. And maybe one day my son will too."
Madrid 2088:
"Nicky? Joe?" Nile asked as she entered the save house. "Are you here?"
"More or less," Joe replied as he raised his arm from the sofa with a yawn. "I found out that I'm getting too old to sleep on the ground during missions. My back is complaining."
"Remember," Nile smirked as she sat down in one of the armchairs. "Considering you are the world's oldest man, you still look good."
"Well, thank you," Joe replied. "If you want a beauty tip let me know."
Nile got up and almost flew into Nicky's arms.
"Hi, Nile," Nicky said as he hugged Nile. "When was the last time you had a proper meal? You're skinny."
"Well, the last thing I ate was a burned chicken," Nile replied. "But I do hope you made pasta with pesto."
"I have made that," Nicky replied. "And why were you eating burned chicken?"
"For once I got a story to tell you both," Nile replied with a smile. "A story about Nicolò."