How Green Becomes Wood

"That would be great, thank you," Daizi said. Truthfully, she had anticipated Xander would offer to make the tea for them. It was easier that way. Once she and Dark were sat together on the couch, she picked up Ivy so they could cuddle and speak her with her to hopefully decompress a little. Between that and the tea, it helped a little bit, but for days like this there was no cure.

Not long after the tea was drunk and the tea was cleaned up--this was something Dark insisted he be allowed to do. He needed to be busy--Cooger arrived, and he gave his brother a fierce hug before greeting everyone else. He'd stay around until it was necessary to bring Ivy upstairs. The interview was scheduled at least in part during Ivy's naptime, but they didn't know if she'd sleep through all of it.

As they were sitting around making whatever meaningless conversation they could to try to not die from anxiety, there was the awaited knock at the door. For the first time, Dark thought maybe their silver gothic knocker was a bad idea. It was a cold, dreadful sound.
 
The twins tried to be quiet and not feed into the anxiety their father had to be feeling, but it was difficult. Alec, especially, felt like he wanted to go crazy, but he took everything he was feeling and swallowed it down hard. He could stay calm. For his father. He couldn't do anything else, but he could do this. Xander felt it, too, but he had an easier time tamping down his feelings, reserved and quieter than usual. During the wait, they occupied themselves with quiet activities.

When the knock came, Xander went to answer the door. He fit in with the aesthetics of the house, looking almost like a butler or part of a funeral in his all black attire, including a black dress shirt. He'd drawn the line at a tie, but he had slicked his hair back. He opened the door. "Welcome to the Necropolys," he said seriously.

Alec hung back, schooling himself into a calm, confident facade. He'd even texted Emma beforehand to get her approval of his outfit, and he was in far more subdued colors than usual with black pants, the leather belt he'd gotten for Christmas, and a deep purple button-up shirt. He still wore a necklace, but it was only a natural stone on a leather strand.
 
When Xander opened the door, there were three people waiting: one was a middle aged woman with thick grey streaks in her hair, one was a woman who looked to be in her early or mid thirties, and the third was a man who also seemed to be in his thirties.

The middle aged woman grinned at their introduction, "The Necropolis? I like that, it's fitting. We're here to speak with Ghalib Dark, we're with The Independent Report. My name is Madeline Fryers, I'm a reporter. This is Jacob Murphy, he's our photographer, and Belinda Barret, who works with the International Rescue Commission."

Pushing himself up off the couch, Dark went up and stood behind Xander, "Hello, you are very welcome. Please come in." In that moment, he seemed perfectly composed and calm, even though deep down he was not. Especially when he saw Belinda again for the first time in many, many years.

As they all came inside and respected the instructions of entering the Necropolis, while Daizi walked up to also greet them, Belinda looked a very long way up at Dark and said, "You have certainly grown."
 
"Water would be great, thank you," Madeline said cheerfully. Jacob was looking curiously around the house, not seeming particularly excited or nervous one way or another because, to him, he was just at work. Belinda looked calm enough, but there was a level of stress and pride in the creases of her face. This was the culmination of her life's work. Over the past few months she had been traveling with Madeline and Jack interviewing the people she helped get to the United States and had seen the results of her program. There was still more suffering and grief than she had hoped there would be, but a lot of successes, also. This house, the sight of this family... She hoped this would be another positive to the list. But Madeline? She was just really glad to be there. These interviews had been an absolute joy for her, even when they were difficult. Throughout this whole process she had been thinking of the Teddy Roosevelt quote about work worth doing.

"We can sit in the living room," Daizi said, "Our friend is going to be keeping an eye on our baby upstairs."
 
Alec and Xander went into the kitchen and fetched waters all around. Alec couldn't help thinking that Sally would be horribly disappointed at the presentation of water instead of tea, and the thought made him smile as he helped Xander carry the waters back in.

"Here we go," Xander said as they set out the waters for everyone. "Need anything else, just let us know."

Alec smiled nervously at the group and moved to sit with Xander out of the way. They weren't in the focus, but they were there, listening. A part of it.
 
Cooger stayed downstairs long enough to introduce himself, mentioning how he and Dark had been roommates at the boarding school they brought him too, which delighted Belinda. Madeline took a quick note and as they all settled down, she said, "Before we get into the actual questions, we were wondering if we can take some pictures? We aren't sure how many will end up being posted in the final publication, but for those who consent, we'd like to be able to have the option of including them."

"That's why I tagged along," Jacob said casually.
 
The twins glanced at each other and then looked at Dark. They weren't sure if that question included them, but if Dark said yes, they would stand with him as family. Ivy would have to be included, too, of course, for a full family picture, if Dark and Daizi were okay with it. Would Dark agree to it?
 
Dark swallowed, doing his absolute best, "Yes, whatever you need."

"Great," Jacob said, taking out his camera, "I saw a few good spaces here for it. Let's get a few family pictures first, and then we can get some solo shots, just so there are options."

He was careful to arrange the family so they all looked nice, encouraging them both to smile and to look more serious. In a few he invited Cooger to be with them, since he was established to be like a brother to Dark. Then he took some just of Dark and Daizi before taking solitary ones of Dark. He felt a bit awkward being posed and being, essentially, forced to model, but the rough images Jacob showed in his camera looked nice. They were very moody, except for the ones where Ivy was being her squirmy self, and very fitting for representing the adult Dark was, at least on the surface level.

Afterwards, Cooger brought Ivy upstairs and Jacob mentioned they may decide to take more pictures later, but at present they were pretty much done with him bothering them.
 
The twins stayed professional through the whole thing, posing exactly as asked and giving no commentary. Xander stayed fairly grim through it all, but Alec did crack a few smiles, especially when Ivy came on the scene and once nearly kicked him in the head with her squirminess. They were glad Cooger had gotten invited to stand with them. He was family, after all.

When the pictures ended, they resumed their places out of the way but still involved.
 
After setting up the tape recorder, Belinda and Madeline took a seat across from Dark and Daizi, "Thank you for agreeing to talk to us," Madeline said warmly, holding a notebook in her lap with her bag left open down by her ankle, "Belinda has told me a bit about your story, and obviously we've already spoken to some of the others in your program, so I understand this may be a bit difficult. If at any point you need a break, you are more than welcome to take one, and you are not under any obligation to answer any question you aren't comfortable with. This isn't a deposition or an interrogation, and you aren't under oath. Do you understand?"

Sitting on the couch, holding one of Daizi's hands in both of his, Dark nodded. Then, eyeing the tape recorder, said aloud, "Yes, I understand. Thank you."

"It's really not our goal to retraumatize you," Madeline promised, "Now, I know this is uncomfortable, so I thought we could talk easily for a little bit, make a little small talk? Before we get into the difficult bits, I mean."

"Dark hates small talk," Daizi said quietly but genially.

"I do too," Belinda agreed.

"You know, I think just about everyone does," Madeline chuckled, "I suppose if you'd like to skip it, we can start small. Where are you from?"

"Baghdad." Dark answered, and then, after a moment, mentioned his neighborhood.

"What was your family like?"

Blinking, Dark shifted slightly and asked, "In what way?"

"The basics, I suppose. Who did you live with, did you have any siblings..."

"I only lived with my mother and father. I had no siblings. I... I have always said it was for the best that I did not." He swallowed, looking down towards the floor. "When I was very young, I have some memories of visiting my mother's family, but we did not stay in touch. I do not know why."
 
The twins sat quietly, not saying a word, doing their best not to distract. They had questions, both of them, though most of the questions they never would have dreamed of asking. Maybe now was their chance to learn some things. A chance that would never come about again.
 
"What were they like?" Madeline asked, looking up from her notepad and looking at Dark.

Of course this question was coming. He knew this question would be coming. Stiffening, he didn't speak until he recognized how Daizi was rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand, "My father... fought in the Gulf War. That was... the year I was born, I believe it began in August. I am fuzzy on the details, I do not know how long he fought or when he came home, but I know he was injured. The whole time I knew him, he had chronic back pain, so he could not... There were not many jobs he could do because he could not carry a lot. And he was angry, most of the time. I think because of it, and also I think he felt it an indignity, with how it impacted his ability to work."

"And your mother?"

Sighing heavily, Dark took a few moments to think before saying, "She married my father at 15. He wasn't much older than her, but he would have been an adult. I do not know what led to the marriage. She was meek, and she was frightened of my father. She would never stand up to him."

Nodding, Madeline asked, "Do you think it was something she should've done? What was it like, living them?"

Dark glanced at his sons, dreading how they would react. A few times he opened his mouth to speak, but struggled to articulate anything. Seeing how he struggled to get the words out, Madeline reminded him he didn't need to answer any questions he didn't want to, but shaking his head, and squeezing his wife's hand tightly, he said, "My father would hurt me. For as long as I can remember... He... I remember every morning I would wake up and I would hope he was experiencing enough pain to not want to get up but not enough to really anger him. His wound dictated so much about what our life would be. And my mother knew that if she disagreed with him, if she tried to get him to stop, if she tried to protect me, he would hurt her too. And sometimes he just did anyway. And if he was still home afterwards, she would not react. I would be left on my thin little mattress bleeding and bruised. There was a time when..." He swallowed, shutting his eyes for a moment, "My little finger on my right hand is somewhat crooked, it is because of him. I remember the day. He told me I had been crying too loudly, and I had to learn to be silent. He didn't even really try to... Hide, what he was up to. I do not think he thought anyone would care or stop him. And I... well. I suppose nobody did."
 
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Xander sat quietly, his expression impassive. He wasn't surprised to hear this part of the story. It hurt to hear someone would hurt a child, especially when that child was his own father, but it was not exactly a shocking revelation. He'd been steeled to hear something like this. What hurt the worst wasn't the story; it was the pain telling it caused Dark. It was the horrors that he knew were being dredged up in his memory.

Alec kept his eyes on the floor. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He knew it should have been something he was ready for, but hearing Dark actually spell out the horrors of the night... He sat shaking, fighting not to let his emotions out. He didn't want Dark or Daizi, especially Dark, to be worried about him.
 
Daizi gently squeezed Dark's bicep, feeling the minute changes in his breathing. Everything he was saying was information he had already confessed to her in quiet, intimate moments, but it still pained her to hear. The mood in the room had grown grave and somber as they listened to the story Dark had to tell.

Gingerly, Madeline asked, "And your mother?"

"I think... she resented me," Dark admitted, pressing slightly against Daizi, shutting his eyes, "I trapped her there--I know it was not my fault, I know I did not, but it is how she viewed me. And she could not express her frustration about the abuse she received from my father to anyone, so she directed it onto me. I was someone I think she wanted to love but could not. She," he took a breath, his voice growing tight, "She would tell me I disgusted her. She would tell me to get out of her sight because she did not want to look at me. She would also hit me, sometimes, but not like my father would. But she would ignore me, I think it would be different if she did not blame me as she did. I just, I remember..." He took a deep breath and held it in for a few moments, "How disappointed they both always were. And how hard I needed to work to try and interpret what they wanted from me, what it would take for them to like me. And I can still hear them, at times. The sorts of things they would say to me. The way my father would yell. I was angry, I wanted to be violent, but I was powerless. There wasn't anything. Five times a day we would pray, and I would be there with my face to the sand, praying to be saved, but..."

"Did you have anyone else in your life?"

"I had neighbors," He said softly, "None of them could save me. Or at least thought they could not. But they would give me food. Sometimes when my parents would make me leave the house, they would let me inside, especially if it was really hot out. They would give me water. And I had a friend, Khudair. And there was the Lion Cubs, when I was old enough."

"The Lion Cubs?"

"In the summer."

"What are the Lion Cubs?"
 
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No one. He'd had no one. No one at all. The people who should have protected him were the ones he needed protection from. Not even the neighbors would help him. Why? Why was he so hated? It wasn't his fault! He was kind! He could have become even kinder! It wasn't fair! Why didn't he run away? Why wouldn't someone help him? Alec closed his eyes, not wanting to listen, yet not willing to leave.

Xander put his hand on Alec's arm, steadying him as he listened quietly.
 
"It was called the Ashbal, in Arabic," Dark explained, "It was a program to prepare Iraqi boys for the Fedayeen, which was his personal military group. For three weeks over the summer, they would take us boys, if we signed up, and train us like soldiers. So we were taught to shoot and how to fight and went through drills. And of course they wanted you to love the regime, they had to make you want to love it. But honestly, I enjoyed the camp. It was awful, do not misunderstand me, it is not something I wish for anyone, I should not have been taken there, I should not have been put into the uniform, I should not have been trained to shoot, age... I forget if I began aged 10 or 12, but, I should not have been trained that way. But for me..." He trailed off, somewhat brightening as he recalled those days.

"Why did you like it?" Madeline asked curiously.

"Well, it was three weeks away from my parents." Dark said, and it sounded nearly like a joke, "The conditions were bad, and if you stepped out of line, or if you cried, or refused, you would be hurt, but... That happened already at home, so, I knew the rules. I could predict what the infractions would be, I could avoid them. At night, I would try to teach the other boys how to be, so they knew, and they could avoid what they could. Avoiding all of it was impossible. And it was how I learned to fight, so I thought, this, one day, when I was actually brave, I'd be able to defeat my father. But I never got the chance."

He paused for a long while after saying this, his brow furrowing, "And it is awful, because I make it sound like the organization was a good thing. Like it was a fun camp, but it was still... A place which is only a respite because you can relax in knowing you are not the only one at risk of being harmed is not much of a paradise. I think I was probably one of the only ones who looked forward to that camp. It was also scary, you know, because I was preteen, early teenager, and I was realizing I felt some level of attraction for some of these other boys, but that absolutely was not allowed. I didn't even realize it to myself, I had been taught to internalize those feelings."
 
Alec gripped his hands into fists in his lap, head bowed, his breathing quickening. His father had... liked something like that? He who was nearly a pacifist unless it came to protecting his family? He liked it? To be trained in the army? A wicked army that was so horrible to young boys? Why?? Alec couldn't wrap his head around it. Even as Dark was explaining, even as he said he knew it was not a good thing, Alec couldn't grasp it. To be put through this... Horror. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know! None of this was right! None of this was right. All of it, all of it was awful. Why did he have to know this? He thought he'd been ready. He thought he'd been prepared, but... No. He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't want this to be real! He didn't want to think about his father going through those times. He didn't want to even remember the bad times he'd lived through: why would he want to hear about this tragedy?

Xander felt Alec shaking harder and gripped his arm tighter. "If you need to leave," he whispered.

"I'm staying," Alec whispered raggedly. He didn't even fully know why. He just needed to stay. He needed to be there! He needed to stop running away! But he wanted to. How badly he wanted to!
 
When Madeline asked more specific questions about the Lion Cub program, Dark did his best to answer them. Occasionally Belinda spoke up with what she knew about the program from her perspective, which helped fill in the educational gaps. Dark explained more about how they were trained, the weapons he remembered using, the rituals and punishments of the program. He described the black uniforms and the pain he knew he and the other boys had suffered through there, "I think, for me," He said carefully, looking up at the ceiling with his brows furrowed, "I liked having the routine and predictability of it. And I think, yes, I knew I would suffer there, but I also knew I was not alone in that suffering. It was something I could talk about with the other boys. There was a community surrounding the suffering, at night we could complain about our superiors. When I was there, it was not just me."

"Can I... tell you how sorry I am you dealt with that?" Madeline asked gently, "It must have been..."

"Thank you," Dark said, the nearest he had come this whole while to feeling at all settled, "Sometimes I feel a bit of guilt for how much I did not hate every second of it. I never loved it, I have never really missed it, but it was better than life with my father."

After a moment, Madeline looked curiously at Dark and asked, "Do you have good memories of before the war?"

"Khudair and I would steal pomegranates together," He answered, nearly smiling, "We would take them and break them open by throwing them on the ground. I did not have much supervision, as you can imagine with how my parents tossed me out onto the street, heedless of the weather, so I would just go about, finding things. I suppose I was training myself how to survive. And I enjoyed the Eid Festivals, like I said, my neighbors would give me really good food then. I sometimes would play chess, and I remember..." He inhaled slightly, "No, this was after the war started, I remember playing chess and looking up to see the tanks rolling down the street."
 
Alec took a sharp, shaky breath, louder than he meant to. Dark's words built on each other, weighing him down. It was so heavy! So heavy. The words swirled and stuck to him, word after word, but at the word "tanks," it was too much, and he gave a little gasp.

"Shh," warned Xander. He was rattled, too, unsettled and in shock. He wanted to take time to take all this in, but he couldn't. He had to keep Alec stable.
 
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