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The soldiers loaded Howie in a truck and hurried away to a building farther inside the green zone. None of them spoke to him, which was a good thing because he was in no mood to talk. He was worried sick about Hira and what they had done with her. Would they take care of her? He thought that they would, he had read stories of how American soldiers had cared for wounded Iraqis, taking them to field hospitals for treatment.

When they arrived, a lieutenant came out to escort him inside a small but elegantly furnished room. “Please wait here,” he said, and Howie took a seat in one of the chairs. The building was magnificent; he guessed it must have been one of Hussein's many residences in the city.

“Mr. Dorough? I'm General Adamson. We’re very pleased to have you here.”

“And I'm glad to be here,” Howie agreed. A woman came in bearing a tray of drinks which she offered to him, he gladly took a large glass of water. The officer took a glass of iced tea and settled into one of the chairs.

“My granddaughter will be very pleased to hear that you're ok, the Backstreet Boys are her favorite group. She has been so worried, and so have the rest of your fans, so she tells me.”

“I'll sign something for you to give her,” Howie offered. “Have any of the others been released? I assume they were all captured?”

“Yes, they were all captured at the same time you were...and you are the first to be recovered, despite our best efforts to find you. There are many men out looking, gathering intelligence.”

“That's good to hear.” He drank greedily from the glass; it had been a few days since he'd had more than just a small cup of tea.

“Can you tell me what happened since you were captured?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Howie was getting impatient with the formalities. “Gladly, sir, but can you tell me what happened to Hira? Is she ok?”

“Is that the woman that was with you at the checkpoint?” Howie nodded. “She is being cared for, she should recover, I was told.”

Howie leaned forward, pinning the general with a dark stare. “She knows the location of the rest of the hostages.” That bit of news got the general's attention. “She wants political asylum, and I would take it as a personal favor if everything possible was done to see that she gets to America - her life is in danger if she stays here.” Howie didn't like throwing his celebrity around but this was one of those times that required it.

“Certainly, Mr. Dorough. Would you excuse me for a moment, please?” The general practically jumped from his chair and walked briskly from the room, the door shutting soundly behind him. Half an hour later, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway.

“Sir? The general sends his regrets that he is unable to finish his talk with you at the moment. He has arranged a room for you, he thought you would like to rest as it may be tomorrow before he can meet with you again.”

“Thank you very much.”

Howie followed the man up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. They stopped in front a room where a soldier stood guard.

“If you require anything, Mr. Dorough, you can let Private Emerson here know and he'll arrange it for you.” He opened the door and watched Howie walk in. “Food and clean clothing will be brought to you shortly. I'll come by in the morning to let you know how the recovery efforts are going,” he said before leaving.

Howie knew the man was telling him that he wasn't allowed to leave, and the presence of the private confirmed that. It's not like he had anywhere to go, but he did wish he knew how Hira was - he was so worried about her.

The room was large by anyone's standards, beautifully decorated, with windows that looked out over a courtyard. Below, soldiers patrolled the perimeter. Howie felt like he must be in an important place for there to be so much security, even within the US's tightly controlled command area.

There was a soft knock on the door; he opened it to find a young female soldier with a cart. “I've brought you some food, sir, I hope you're hungry,” she grinned. “The cook loaded it up once he found out you had been a prisoner of the Iraqi's for so long.”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning back at her. The smells coming off the cart made his mouth water.

“The Lieutenant also sent you some clothes - all we have are camo though, sorry.” She reached underneath the cart and brought out a bundle of clothing, including desert camouflage pants and a tan t-shirt. “If you’ll tell me your shoe size, I’ll bring you some boots as well.”

“Thank you. I've been wearing these clothes for way too long,” he said. He had removed the burkha during the truck ride from the checkpoint.

“Just let us know if you need anything else,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks again, I appreciate it.” As the woman started to leave, a thought came to him suddenly. “Oh wait, there is something. Can I call my parents?”

“Let me check for you – I’ll be back.” She returned a few moments later. “The Lieutenant said that they will let you call them as soon as the rescue operations are completed.”

Howie was disappointed in the news; he knew how worried his family must be. But he understood the need for secrecy and didn’t dare do anything that would jeopardize the rescue of his friends.

After the woman left, he wandered into the bathroom - it was fit for royalty. A huge tub at the far end beckoned, but he wanted to eat first. Going back to the cart, he lifted the lids on several dishes and found a huge hamburger with all the fixings, French fries, and a bowl of chocolate pudding with whipped cream. He dug in with relish, although he knew he would get a stomach ache, it was wonderful to have real American food again.

But Hira crept back into his mind again; he remembered how she had worked so hard to fix food that she thought he would like...and how she had smuggled him food when the men were trying to starve him. He brushed the tears from his face; he had to have faith that she was ok.

After his meal, he ran a bath and gratefully sank down in the hot water. He tried to clear his mind, to relax, but images from the night before would not let him rest. He had thought it was all a wonderful dream, but after seeing Hira's face, even for an instant, he knew it hadn't been a dream. He had made love to her last night, enjoyed that beautiful body...and taken her virginity.

“Why did she do that?” he asked himself. Howie felt deceived - she had deliberately given him the tea to drug him, and then seduced him. Did she think that she had to drug him to get him to sleep with her? No man in his right mind would refuse her - she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. But then again, he was the first man to have ever seen her face, and he knew that she considered herself ugly. Another thought jumped into his mind – she had told him that only the man that she loved would see her face. Did that mean that she was in love with him?

Many things Hira told him began to make sense now. Her stepmother and sisters had been jealous of her because of her beauty. And they wouldn’t have told Hira’s father, preferring to keep her enslaved and under their control. He figured that if her father had any idea of what his daughter looked like, he’d have found many men willing to overlook the curse.

Howie shuddered to think of what would’ve happened to her if Rahmat and Sabir had ever seen her without her veil – she surely would’ve been raped. But then again the drug lord probably wouldn’t have sent her to them if he’d ever seen her either.

Putting Hira out of his mind wasn’t easy; she had been so much a part of his life for the last six weeks. He didn’t want to examine his feelings too closely, he had too many other things to worry about at the moment.

Howie washed his hair thoroughly; it felt wonderful to finally have clean hair again. There were personal hygiene items waiting for him too - he shaved and brushed his teeth. Pulling on a pair of Army issue boxers, he returned to the bedroom and enjoyed a leisurely dessert of chocolate pudding. His stomach finally full for the first time in weeks, he climbed into bed and was instantly asleep.

************************

A knock on the door woke him the next morning. He pulled on a robe and answered it to find the Lieutenant, along with a breakfast cart.

“If you'd care to dress, sir, I'll have breakfast with you and brief you on the night's events.”

“Give me five minutes,” Howie said, inviting the man in. He hurriedly dressed and returned. A private had laid out breakfast on the table; the officer was drinking a cup of coffee while he waited.

“Coffee sir?” the private asked.

“Do you have hot tea?” he asked. The man nodded and poured a cup for him; Howie added a slice of lemon and let it sit for a minute. The Lieutenant dismissed the man and they were finally alone.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked. “And was the food to your liking?”

“Yes, on both counts,” Howie said with a smile. “No more kubba.”

“Did they make you eat that horrible stuff?” he asked, grimacing.

“They tried, but didn't succeed,” Howie grinned.

“Well, have some good food,” the officer offered, removing the lids from the covered plates. There were scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, ham, and biscuits and jelly.

“I'm in heaven,” Howie sighed, digging into the food.

The Lieutenant chuckled at the amount of food that Howie was putting away; he surely could eat for someone of his size.

“We have some news for you,” he said, taking a bite of eggs. “Your friend was able to give us the locations of all the prisoners and teams have been sent to recover the men. So far we have word on two successful recoveries, the other team has not checked in yet.”

“That's great news. What about Hira, though?”

“She’s in a hospital, recovering from a bullet to her shoulder.”

“Can I see her?”

The officer set down his fork. “I'm sorry, Mr. Dorough, but they won't authorize that. The General has scheduled a meeting with you at 0900 and then you’re to be taken to the airport.”

“I'm leaving, already? But I promised Hira...” Howie suddenly lost his appetite; he pushed his plate away with a sigh. “Where am I going?”

“To Landstuhl, Germany, where you'll be debriefed and have a complete medical checkup. Then you'll be flown back to the States.”

“But Lt. Grimes, I made a promise to Hira that I would take her back to the States with me. If she stays here, they will kill her for what she’s done.” He got up and began to pace. “What about her request for asylum?”

“It’s being considered,” the lieutenant said.

“She risked her life for me...and for the others,” Howie begged.

“The Army understands that, Mr. Dorough, and we can appreciate her bravery. But it’s out of our hands – it’s a political matter now, for others to decide.”

Howie finished his meal at the officer's urging, warning him that he wouldn't be able to eat again until he reached Germany. Afterwards, the lieutenant escorted him to the general's office.

The officer greeted him warmly, and then they spoke for over an hour about his ordeal. He answered every question that he could, being as truthful as he could. Howie didn't mention Hira much, only the details of how she had helped him. He didn't even ask about Hira, Lt. Grimes had already told him that the matter was out of the general's hands. He signed a few things for the general's granddaughter before leaving, as he had promised.

Before he knew it, Howie found himself on a transport plane winging its way to Germany. On the plane were patients being transferred to the army hospital there. It broke his heart seeing them laying there; some had lost limbs or suffered serious internal injuries. He was allowed to visit with some of the patients, he even sang for one young woman, a supply truck driver whose vehicle had been blown up by a roadside bomb.

Although he had visited many hospitals over the years, this was somehow much more personal. Someone he cared for was lying in a hospital bed right now. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get Hira out of his mind.

Once in Germany, Howie spent the afternoon in the hospital undergoing tests. They decided to keep him overnight as he was dehydrated and suffering from hypothermia. The next day he spent in debriefing, going over everything all over again. They wanted to know every detail about every day - what he ate, what was said, what he heard.

After the Army people left, a man in a black suit came in and questioned him about Hira. Howie didn't know what to say, he hesitated before answering anything. What if something he said kept her from coming to America?

“Mr. Dorough, I sense that you are unsure of how to answer my questions. I need you to be as honest as if you were in a court of law. We need to know as much about her as we can before any asylum can be considered.”

“I understand, I'll do my best,” Howie assured him.

They spoke for an hour, Howie telling the man every detail about Hira that he could - where she came from, her family name, how she came to be associated with the terrorists.

“Her father gave her to them, in payment of a debt,” he told the man. “She had only been there for a few weeks when I arrived. She was their servant, nothing else, she only cooked and cleaned.”

“She wasn't part of their terrorist group?”

“No, of course not. She hated that they were hurting innocent people.”

“And she didn't have sex with them?”

Howie started. “No, she didn't,” he said angrily.

“How do you know that?”

“She despised them, couldn't stand to be in the same room - they made her skin crawl. Plus they made her wear a burkha day and night; she hated them for that too.”

“That doesn't mean she wasn't being forced to have intercourse with them.”

“I know for a fact that she was still a virgin. We, uh, made love the last night of my captivity.”

The man was quiet for a moment. “So you had sex with her? And she was a virgin?”

“Yes. We stayed at this awful little hotel somewhere in Baghdad the night before we went to the checkpoint. I had never even so much as seen her face before then - but she came to me that night, offered herself to me. She was so beautiful - and I had already fallen in love with her.” It was hard to admit to the man that he was in love with her; he had just admitted it to himself only a day earlier.

“Is that why you want asylum for her? Because you think you love her?”

“No, she deserves to have a life of freedom,” he said vehemently. “She saved my life and the lives of my friends - isn't that enough?”

“Or did she sleep with you in order to get asylum?”

Howie got up and started pacing, he was so angry. “No, it’s not like that at all, damnit. She is a wonderful, sweet soul and would never use anyone like that.” He stood looking out the window at the green lawn outside. “She had been used her whole life, a pawn in her father's game - she just wanted to be herself, to have a life of her own. Whether it was in America or in Iraq, all she longed for was freedom.”

“If she was granted asylum, would you vouch for her? Provide for her until she can become a productive member of society?”

“Definitely yes,” Howie said, a surge of hope running through him.

They continued to speak for another hour, Howie dutifully recalling every detail about Hira that he could remember. He sent a quick prayer to God, asking for his assistance.

After the meeting concluded, Howie was escorted to a military base nearby and given a room in a small house. A private was stationed at the door, once again as a courtesy, but Howie knew the real reason he was there was to keep him from leaving.

He lay down and took a long nap; voices from the front of the house woke him. He wandered out, yawning, wondering who had come to see him this time. A tall, blonde man stood looking out the window; he turned when he heard footsteps.

“Nick!” They embraced, it was a tearful reunion.

“Damn, Howie, it's great to see you!” Nick had tears in his eyes too.

“I wasn't sure the rest of you were ok, they wouldn't tell me anything.”

“Me either, and I've asked so much they finally got mad at me.” Nick led them over to a couch to sit down. Howie laughed, that sounded like his friend and fellow band mate. “How long have you been here, D?”

“I flew in yesterday afternoon; I've been in debriefing most of today. What about you?” Howie asked.

“A couple of hours - I just finished my debriefing.” Howie went into the little kitchen and brought them both back some water. “Why did yours take so long? Have more to confess?” he smiled.

“I'm trying to get political asylum for the woman who helped me escape - and who helped ya'll too.”

“A woman helped us?”

“Her name is Hira; she was a servant living in the house where I was kept. She told the military where the rest of you were being held, she had been eavesdropping on the men in our house.”

“Wow, I didn't know that. I thought that they had found us and rescued us.”

“No, Hira told them where to find you. Without her, we'd all still be there.”

“You don't know anything about the others, do you?” Nick asked.

“No, they won't tell me anything. And they won't tell me anything about Hira either - she's still in Iraq as far as I know.” He got up and started pacing, still quite agitated that they hadn't told him whether or not they were granting her asylum. He knew it could be a long process, but surely they would know something soon.

They sat and talked for an hour, comparing notes on their time spent in captivity. Nick said he had been treated quite well, given plenty of food and water too. He told him that he had seen Brian a few days earlier when they forced him to make a videotape for the kidnappers.

“You look like you've lost some weight, D,” Nick said.

“My captors weren't as nice as yours...sadistic is more like it,” he said, grimacing. “Without Hira, I'd have starved to death. They were convinced I was some kind of spy and had information that I was keeping from them.”

Nick laughed; Howie soon joined him as he thought about the absurdity of it all. “I just hope the others are ok,” Nick said softly.

A little later, dinner was brought to the house and they ate, relishing the American style food after so much of the foreign recipes. They retired to bed early, still worn out from their ordeal.