Afghanistan, 2007

Owen Grady was no stranger to the oppressive heat of the desert, nor was he particularly fond of it. He had grown accustomed to it in the long months he spent there, almost thinking for a brief moment in time that he didn't mind it so much. That was a lie, of course, he minded being there, and he hated doing what they were doing. He was a SEAL, sent there to do a job and get it done. There was no arguing about it, just do it and get gone.

Except, his escape plan had a minor kink in it. Her name was Saiah; and she was probably the most beautiful woman he ever met. During this time, the uprising had just begun so women stopped wearing Hajibs as faithfully as before. He could see what appeared to be bright blue eyes; unfathomable pools of emotion that he wished he could learn to understand. There was also a moment of weakness and vulnerability as he met her the first time.

Saiah was a sweet woman, she often took him on tours of the countryside, much to the chagrin of her family. She was due to be married, this cohorting with a male was not acceptable; and a male of the Americans no less! She was looking to be executed by firing squad, they were sure of it! She would often times take him by the hand and show him around the flea markets, teaching him what everything was. Although he had a base knowledge of the language, it helped to have someone explain it to him. Saiah's ability to speak English was just as poor, but hey were soon to fix that.

It was later in the first month of his deployment when tragedy struck. He was with Saiah at the flea market where they often spent their days together when a suicide bomber had come into the midst of it. He barely caught a glimpse of the man traipsing through the throng of people. Startled gasps – mostly from US military – erupted into the crowd. Initially Owen considered shooting the man, but there were too many people running about to do anything about it. Instead, he closed his eyes tight, grabbed Saiah and ushered who he could from the area.

The bomb went off, and left a loud ringing in his ears. He could barely see from all the dust that now contaminated the area. As the rain of rubble began to fall, he searched for survivors, but saw very few. At least most of his unit escaped unscathed. But where was Saiah? "Saiah!" He called, looking around the area and observing what was in his immediate vision; "Saiah!" A cough prompted him to check under some rubble closer to the blast zone. He dug and clawed his way through, finding a child under the mess of rocks. He pulled him out, careful to assess the kid's wounds. Seeing he was safe to travel, he allowed the boy to run home. "Saiah!"

"Owen, man, you gotta get out of here. They'll come back." The stern warning was from his brother and while he really didn't want to take the advice and possibly leave Saiah behind, he knew his brother was right. "Come on. We'll head back to the camp."

"What about Saiah?" Owen questioned, hand tensing around the trigger guard on his rifle.

A pause, then a command-like voice came into his fragile psychology. "What about Saiah."

It was the most detached from a situation that Owen had ever heard from James. He couldn't help but stare at the rubble, mouth agape, as he tried to figure out where the woman had gone. Could he...no, that wasn't possible, and he knew it. Saiah was just another girl he'd met, and it wouldn't last. It never did. Why did he think that a soldier could learn to love a native? Even Pocahontas died in the end of her story. He shook his head and turned around, following his brother. "She was beautiful."

"I bet she was; your imaginary oasis girl. Saiah, huh? The one you been going on about in your sleep? Sounds like a real winner, that one." James continued. He moved ahead of Owen and sighed, opening the door of the jeep, a safe distance away from the site. "Look, man, you can't mingle with the locals. We were told that on the ride here, and they'll beat it into you if necessary. You're a pariah to them. They don't want you here, taking their brides and fucking their shit up. Whoever she is, let her go."

Owen thought about it for a brief moment before shaking his head forcefully and running towards the site again. "Someone has to save these people. Isn't that why we're here? To liberate them from tyranny? So why are we letting them die?"

His hands dug and clawed and chewed at the rubble, pulling pieces of rock and dirt and tossing them aside. As he found survivors, he assessed their wounds and would triage them until help arrived. He still hadn't found Saiah, even after an hour of digging. His brother told him to face the reality; which wasn't unreasonable in their profession. Biting down hard on his lip, he started to move more large rocks aside.

Finally, after another hour of digging, he saw an arm he recognized. The bracelets she was always adorned with. "Saiah!" He pulled the large rocks aside and noticed why she hadn't called for help. Leaning down to her chest, he listened for breathing. It was there, but it was minimal. She likely had cracked or broken ribs from the damage. Why hadn't he shielded her? "Saiah, it's okay, I'm going to get you out of here. You'll go home to your husband and be happy, okay? Saiah, come on. Talk to me." Owen pleaded, gently smacking her face. "Come on! Saiah! You're not allowed to die yet! I haven't even gotten to see the garden you wanted to show me!"

The woman's fingertips twitched. Anxious at the small sign of life, he dug her the rest of the way out and waited for help to arrive. He was afraid to move her due to where the rubble was resting on her ribs. Twenty minutes after excavating her from the mess, James and another male arrived with a stretcher and a backboard to transport her to the base. His first thought was fear; what if her family found out she was being treated by an American? "No, wait."

"If we wait, she dies. Make a decision, right now, Owen. Save her or let her die?"

Hadn't enough people died today? The split second decision broke his heart but it had to be done. Her family would treat her like an outcast now that she was associating with the enemy. "Treat her. I'll meet you back at camp once we dug out all the survivors."

That was what had dragged them together. He never left her side during the recovery, insisting on helping to take care of her. While she was recovering, she taught him Persian while he tried to teach her English. Teaching English was rather difficult considering the circumstances and the language barrier. That and he was no linguist, not by any means. He tried to teach it to her on a daily basis, but it required a translator.

Soon after her recovery was finished, he found her an apartment nearby the base since she couldn't return home. She had fraternized with a man from America, that was enough to have her exiled. But to spend time with the man was murder. He moved into the apartment to help take care of her, using the excuse of learning to stay there. They had grown quite close, and she continued to teach him Persian. She was quite the excellent teacher. But the end of that month, he was already semi-fluent.

"Dooset daram," The woman spoke softly to him, while he was resting on the bed with a book. It was the down hours and he had made enough excuses not to go back to the barracks where he should have been. His lip curved into a grin before he even had to look at her. My beloved. "May I speak with you?"

"Of course, Saiah, what seems to be on your mind?" He noticed her looking away, something she rarely did. She always kept her eyes on him, fearful he would be like her betrothed. He wasn't abusive, in fact he was calm and shy, probably the least aggressive SEAL she had met in her time. "The way you're looking away makes me think you're going to tell me something really tragic. Are you being put on trial?" He already had a plan to seek refuge in the states, maybe that would help ease her mind.

"No, my beloved. I am not on trial." She looked down to her hands, dark brown locks cascading over her delicate milky chocolate skin. Opalescent azure eyes caught his gaze and he could tell she had been crying. Somehow, he had an idea what this was about. His heart sank. There was no way, was there? No, no, no, no! He'd be put on trial or killed! He didn't want to panic until she spoke. "Lotfan...Man haameleh hastam."

His world stopped and he could feel it growing heavy. His unit was going back stateside in the next few months, he could find her refuge if need be! "Saiah, come with me to the states, please. You shouldn't stay here, it's too dangerous for you."

"No, I cannot leave my family. They wish for me to stay, even if they have...exiled me from their home. Sheereen-am...stay here."

The cultural differences were even more problematic. Her family wouldn't want him staying; she was still betrothed. Though with this new development, probably not for a long time. She could seek help in the states; she would be protected there. A shake of her head showed him that was a bad suggestion. She gently rubbed her tummy, though she wasn't even showing yet.

"With or without her daddy, he'll have a lovely life. I will make sure of it."

The American embassy had refused her refuge under the guise that all Afghan had to stay in their home country due to the ongoing war. The passing months were strenuous on them. Owen had to leave and she would be going home to her family. Though she promised to keep contact, he didn't think it was true. She assured him she would send photographs of the child, keep him updated. He, in turn, promised to send money or clothes, anything she asked for. He refused to be a deadbeat father.

As promised, she kept her side of the bargain. She contacted him for the first several months, keeping him updated on her progression; though she never sent him images. She assured him all was well, and that her husband was welcoming of the new child. As it had turned out, her new husband was sterile, and it worked out in their favor. He couldn't have asked for a more promising situation.

At least, that was the story anyway. During her last trimester, just before delivering, he sent a care package. She had told him the baby was a boy, so the care package contained a stegosaurus stuffed animal, a blanket, and a few other items she would need, with a check for a couple hundred dollars. He was surprised to see the check returned with a note; I am terribly sorry to tell you, but the child was stillborn. He did not make it, and the tragedy is that it was my fault. Please forgive me. I had wanted him to meet you one day. This will be my last letter to you. Goodbye, my love. - Saiah.

He broke down then and there, a hysterical sobbing mess on the floor of his barracks. He had tried so hard to protect his family, and even that didn't work. What was he good for? He bit back the pain and stood to his feet, burning the letter with a lighter. If she was never going to respond to his letters, why keep the door open in the first place?

That was when he decided his career with the Navy was far from over. Those memories were gone, and a new opportunity presented itself. He would go join the ranks at Jurassic World, working closely with InGen to train raptors. The idea seemed so far fetched, but at this point, who cared? A fever dream was better than the reality of the situation. Shoving the whole thing to the back of his mind, he filled out his resume for the company; despite them headhunting him.

That was the last night he ever thought about Saiah. Or he had told himself it was, but that was probably a lie.

Updated as time permits; based on an RP. Please pardon my obvious lack of critical research this time. It's literally just a "setting the stage" chapter.