The infernal desert summer was drawing to an end, and Baghdad was turning down for Ramadan.  Soon, it would be time for fasting and contemplation.

The once proud date-palms no longer looked defiant, standing wearily in the subdued afternoon sun.  The previously stifling desert day was now slowly being shredded by the approaching winter.  The air was lighter, and the heat was being siphoned away.

The scorching scars of summer were being soothed by a softer sun.

Inside the muted I.N.N. bureau, Ali was pouring a fresh pot of chai into several small cups. 

Fred and Andy were previewing tapes in a back corner.  Erik was cleaning his equipment not far from them.  Bette and Tina sat at their desks quietly talking to Alice.  The office had been cloaked under a heavy veil of sadness since Mohammed’s death. 

“Chai…” Ali announced unintrusively as he brought everyone a cup of tea.

“I’m getting out of here in a few days…” Alice said, blowing into her brew to cool it down.

“My editor thinks it’s best I take time off now… offered me some counselling… I may just take him up on it…” she told her two friends.

“That’s a good idea Al…” Tina agreed.  “We’ve been offered the same thing… Bob wanted to fly us all out the very next day… but I think we were right to stay for a bit and… grieve together, you know?  Leaving just felt like… running away,” she explained.

“I know what you mean, TK… I so know what you mean… who would understand what we’re going through except those of us here right now, huh?  What a sick, sick, life we lead…” she said almost sadly.

“Nur --- ?” Ammar approached the women on the news desk.  “There are some visitors outside that would like to meet you – can I show them in?”

“Of course Ammar… if you know who they are, then that’s fine.  Bring them in.” Tina instructed.

A few minutes later, the door to the bureau opened and Ammar led in a beautiful young Iraqi woman dressed casually in jeans, and a black button-down shirt.  In her arms she carried a child no more than one-year old, and following closely behind her was another boy who was maybe three-years old.

“Nur – this is Hala…” Ammar said by way of introduction.  “Mohammed’s wife…”

Wife!  They all nearly dropped their cups of chai. 

Tina rose from her seat, and stared in shock at the silent, sullen young woman before them.  “I’m sorry – I had no idea Mo… I mean… Mohammed…was married...” she said surprised.

“Hello Miss Nur…”, the young woman addressed her.  “Mohammed did not want you to know about us; he didn’t want anyone to know… to keep us safe…” she looked sadly at the children she had brought with her.  “He so desperately wanted to work with an American news team – he was afraid you wouldn’t hire him if you knew he had a family that might be in danger if he worked here…” she tried to smile. 

“I tried to talk him out of it… but you know my husband… stubborn as a camel…” they could almost see the fond memories of him cross her mind.  “It was his duty he said…duty… to make sure you told the story right… the story of Iraq…”, she stopped as she struggled to hold back her tears.

“He was a good man…” Bette rose, and stood next to Tina.

“Uh… this is Bette –,” Tina introduced them.

“Ah yes --- Ishtar.” Hala said.