Heir to a Desert Legacy

chapter THIRTEEN



STRATEGY WAS EVERYTHING. Knowing Sayid had taught Chloe that. It was the way he lived his life, the way he taught himself to survive. Sayid’s strategy was to lie. To the world, and to himself.

And Chloe’s strategy was to make it so he couldn’t anymore. She’d given him a couple of days to cool off, had allowed him to avoid her, but now she was ready to make her move. While his defenses were down. And they were down. It was why he’d been so desperate to drive her away, she was certain of that.

“Hello, Sayid,” she said, sweeping into the dining room, Aden in her arms.

Sayid was sitting at the head of the table, a computer in front of him along with his dinner. “Chloe. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, his voice tight.

“Oh, you mean because last time we spoke you were an insulting bastard who accused me of being like my mother, after you had blistering sex on the beach with me? Yeah, I can see why you weren’t expecting me for dinner. But Aden and I are joining you. Aren’t you lucky?”

“Lucky wasn’t the word I was looking for.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps your English is faltering.”

“I don’t think it is, Chloe.”

“Ah, well. I was studying today and I found out some really interesting things about Quantum Mechanics and a possible relationship to...do you think I could get some dinner?”

Sayid arched a brow but didn’t say a word as he pressed a button beneath the table and paged a member of the staff who showed up promptly, taking Sayid’s swift order for another place setting and going off to fulfill it.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, his tone bland.

“For a man who claims to have no emotion, you seem quite bothered by my presence.”

“I’m not bothered by you.”

“Oh. Could have fooled me.” Her dinner, pheasant with a side of quinoa and steamed vegetables arrived quickly. “Thank you,” she said to the server, then turned her focus back to Sayid. “What did you do today?”

“Small talk?”

“How else do two people get to know each other?”

“They can screw on the beach. That seemed to work pretty well.”

Her cheeks heated. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Stop trying to scare me away with your macho man crap.”

“I’m not trying to scare you away, I’m just not going to sugarcoat anything for your comfort.”

She looked down at her dinner and pushed the quinoa around with her fork. She shifted Aden in her arms, then looked at Sayid. “Can you hold him? I want to eat.”

“Where is his nanny?”

“I gave her the day off.”

“Why did you do that?”

For this very reason. “Everyone needs a day off.”

“I’m certain he would be fine if you set him down.”

“What does it matter to you if you hold him for a moment, Sayid?” She was issuing a challenge now. If he truly felt nothing, not fear, not love, then holding Aden wouldn’t affect him. But she knew it would. And she suspected he did, too.

“Give him to me,” he said, his tone hard.

He knew how much she loved Aden, how much he meant to her. That she had set everything in her life, everything she’d cared about before, aside to be with him.

There was no greater show of trust in him than this, and he would know it.

She was also certain he would feel it. His loss was one he still felt deeply, and she didn’t want to hurt him. But she did want him healed.

She crossed the room, cradling Aden close to her chest before holding him out to Sayid. “Support his head,” she said, transferring him carefully into Sayid’s strong arms.

Sayid looked up at her, his expression hard. Too hard. He was hiding behind his walls. Trying to feel nothing. Because he felt so much. Because he didn’t want it used against him, ever again.

She knew now. She was certain.

“Aw, he didn’t even cry. He knows his uncle.”

Sayid’s entire frame was stiff, but he held Aden, close to his chest, his large hands gentle on the baby’s tiny body.

She backed up, sat in her chair, keeping one eye on Sayid and Aden as she ate. She let the silence stretch out, let Sayid feel the impact of holding him. Sayid was looking down at Aden, his expression fierce, the protectiveness, the vulnerability, on his face stunned her.

And then, in a moment it was gone, replaced with that hardness she was more accustomed to. Sayid looked away from Aden, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. Because he did feel. She knew he did.

“Have you nearly finished?” he asked a moment later, his voice clipped.

“Nearly,” she responded.

“I have work to do, Chloe.”

“And I have eating to do.”

“I am a busy man, I’m the sheikh for all intents and purposes and I believe that takes precedence over you making sure you get a dinner that’s easy to eat. Call the nanny if it’s an emergency.”

He stood and walked over to her chair, depositing Aden in her arms and striding from the room. And all Chloe could do was sit there and stare after him.

* * *

Sayid was choking again. What had she done to him? What had the baby done to him?

He’d been holding Aden, and doing just fine, but then he’d looked at him, looked right into his blue eyes, and he had felt a tug in his soul that had echoed through his entire being.

Panic had followed, a panic he couldn’t understand or stop. It was still clawing at him, squeezing his throat, icy fingers wrapped around his neck. Pain. Pain from the past, what might have been, and a new pain, one borne of fresh desire, for things that were so near and yet still beyond him.

He had been avoiding her since that night on the beach, since he’d bared himself to her as he’d done. Told her about Sura. Lost all of his control.

Hurt her. Physically. Emotionally.

It had been a moment of freedom, being in her arms. A quiet moment when he’d felt one with himself. But the payment demanded for it had been swift and severe. The evidence of what he’d done to her with his loss of reserve.

But not just that. The evidence of how quickly the years of conditioning could be undone, all because of a woman. Because of Chloe.

And he had run from it. He’d tried to keep her from following by scaring her. Scaring her with the truth. Only she’d followed. She hadn’t given up. His Chloe was stubborn. Stubborn and so very brave.

Part of him wanted to hold her to him. To have her. Possess her.

But there was the part of him, the part that still possessed humanity, that knew he couldn’t. Knew he would give her nothing. He would try, endlessly, to fill himself with her, with her life, her light. And he would steal it all from her, giving nothing back.

“Sayid?” Chloe appeared in the doorway of his room.

“What are you doing here, Chloe?”

“I put Aden down for the night and I figured I’d come and see what the hell your problem is. Is that okay?”

“No. It’s not. Go away.”

“Why? Because I’m good enough to screw on the beach, but not good enough to talk to?”

“We talked already,” he said.

“No. You talked. You told me what I felt, what I thought, who I was. And you were wrong, about all of it. So now I’m going to talk, and I’m going to tell you about you.”

“Go,” he bit out. “Go now, Chloe.”

“No. Sayid, you think you can’t feel? You’re a liar. You feel. You feel when you touch me. You feel when you hold Aden. You feel right now. You’re afraid. I know you are.”

“You think you know what’s going on inside of me, Chloe? You don’t even want to know. You think you’ve seen darkness? You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You haven’t done what I’ve done. I have killed men, Chloe, with my bare hands when necessary. And I’ve done it without remorse or regret, because it was for my country, for my people. The only way I could do that was by letting go.”

“Everybody feels something, Sayid. Even a sociopath feels satisfaction in the deeds he commits, so don’t try and tell me you simply feel nothing.”

“All right, Chloe, all right, is this what you want to do? You want to share? You want me to share with you?”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes.”

He nodded once. “You’re right. I do feel. I feel one thing. Do you want to know what it is?”

She met his eyes, her expression determined. “Tell me.”

“I’m angry. All the time.” He hadn’t realized it until he’d said it. “At everything, everyone. At life. At the lot I was given. I feed it, and it keeps me going. It’s worse than nothing, because it consumes everything beautiful in life. Anger devours everything else, because happiness can’t exist with it. Love cannot exist with it.”

“And the day you lost Sura, and the future you imagined with her, you decided to be angry rather than be in pain. I understand that. But shouldn’t you let it go?”

“You think this is about Sura? About the baby? I let it go long ago. I had to. But the lesson remains.”

“You feel more than that, I know you do.”

“I won’t allow it,” he bit out. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t about what I want, it never has been. It’s about Attar. It’s about protecting my people, at the expense of myself. There is no other way. You serve yourself, or you serve others, but you cannot do both.”

“I don’t believe it. It’s not about your people, it’s about protecting you. That’s all it’s ever been about. Because you tasted loss, hideous, unspeakable loss, and you decided you would never experience it again.”

“You think me a coward?”

“No more than the rest of us, Sayid. That’s what I did. That’s why I wouldn’t have a relationship. Because I was too afraid of myself, of men. Too afraid to take a chance and simply trust myself or the people in my life. I hid behind my pain because it was easier than getting over it. Because it was safer. But I’m not safe. Admit it. That’s why you have to push me away, because you feel for me.”

“I don’t,” he growled.

“You do. If you didn’t then you could just go about your business. You could sleep with me without worrying about what I felt, without trying to scare me off. If you were a machine, then you wouldn’t care, but you do. You were given no more control in your life than I was, Sayid. Your uncle controlled you. He stole everything from you. He stole love, and happiness, and everything good, and he told you that you couldn’t have it. And when you were a boy, there was nothing you could do. Why would you argue when it was the reality you were given? But you’re a man now. Stand up and take it back. Take back what he took from you.”

“No. I will never be weak like that. Not again.”

“You think this is strength? Standing in the darkness, hiding yourself from the things in life that are real? From a nephew who would love you? Who would see you as his father? From the woman who loves you?”

“Chloe,” he bit out, pain assaulting him, “don’t.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not afraid of being hurt. I don’t want to be, but I’m not hiding. I love you, Sayid.”

Everything in him wanted to pull her close to him, to take that love and fill himself with it. To turn the light on in his soul, her light, and fill all the dark corners with it.

To what end? To keep her until he drained her of the love she felt? Until she realized that she was wrong? That he couldn’t give what she thought he could?

Never. He would never do that to her. To her or to Aden.

“Don’t love me, Chloe.”

“It’s too late. And now you have to make a choice. Make a choice instead of simply accepting what life has given to you.”

“You think me passive? I’m a warrior.”

“Because it’s easier for you,” she said, her tone soft, steady. “Because it’s easier for you to go out and fight than to let yourself care.”

“I don’t want to care. I don’t care. And I don’t want your love.”

She drew back, as if he’d struck her, tears glistening in her blue eyes. “Coward,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek, one she didn’t wipe away.

“Dammit, Chloe, how do you not understand? Men died because of me, because I couldn’t keep myself from acting with my heart. Sura...the pain she was put through, all because she loved me. That’s what happens when I feel, when I allow myself even one moment of escape from the hell I live in inside my own body. I cannot ever do it again. Not for you. Not for anyone. I’m going back to the city tomorrow,” he said. “You and Aden are welcome to stay on here for a while. It is quieter.”

“You mean you’re keeping me here,” she said.

“For a while.”

“Tell me you don’t love me, Sayid.”

He met her eyes, ignoring the burning in his chest, ignoring the clawing sense of suffocation. “I don’t love you.”

Another tear slid down her cheek, and in that moment, he would have gladly put his back to a whip and taken its blows. Anything other than facing her now. Than lying like this.

But it was for her. For both of them.

For Attar.

An ideal cannot fail.

She lifted her chin, her voice steady. “Then Aden and I will stay here for a while. Please have my whiteboards and books sent over.”

“I will.”

She turned away from him and he saw a tremor go through her body. “Sayid,” she said, without facing him again, “you taught me to take control of myself, of what I want, and for that, I can only thank you. I wish I could have helped you too. I wish I could have taken your burdens. Just for a while.”

She started to walk away, and he couldn’t stop the words that came spilling out of his mouth. “But my burdens aren’t yours to carry, habibti, and they never will be.” It was the kindest thing for her. The only thing. They would crush her, even as they were crushing him.

She did turn then. “But you took mine. How could I do anything less?”

“You will never have to know.”

She nodded once, then walked out of the room. He watched the place where she had been, the man inside of him clawing at his chest, begging to be let out. Begging to be allowed to go after her.

And the darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

Chloe’s tears fell onto her whiteboard, running down the surface, smudging her equation. She didn’t care. Not then. There was no reasoning her way out of this.

She’d been so sure that she wasn’t even trying. That she was feeling, and not reasoning, but that was a lie. She’d been trying to reason out Sayid, to make him make sense in her mind, to make his problems something that she could solve so that she could have him to herself.

So that she could make him love her.

She blinked, trying to stop a fresh onslaught of tears from falling. She’d been trying to make him palatable. Make him the man she wished he could be, rather than the man that he was.

That was something her mother would do. It was something she’d always done. Put blind spots over her father’s sins, seeing only the good, singing his praises with a split lip that had been injured at his hand.

So she’d been afraid to do the same. Afraid to simply want Sayid as he was.

But there was a difference between Sayid and her father. Her father turned his anger outward, hurting everyone around him, taking nothing on himself.

While Sayid turned it inward, and let it burn him alive.

She’d meant to save him. Meant to show him what he could have. What they could have.

You wanted to show him the future you wanted for him.

That stopped her cold, made her heart freeze. “Oh...Sayid,” she whispered.

She had done to him what people had done to him all of his life. She’d tried to make him her ideal. Had tried to tell him what he should want, had tried to force him to want what she wanted.

That wasn’t love. That was selfishness. Possessiveness. She’d tried to own him, as she’d done their first night together, his hands bound, his body at her mercy.

She’d tried to make him belong to her, to be the man that she needed. And she hadn’t tried, not truly, to be the woman that he needed. Because she’d ignored everything he’d said he felt, dismissed it as a lie. Had told him it didn’t have to be that way and that he could have other things, without ever truly listening to what he did want.

She’d been no better than the others who’d tried to trap him. Who’d tried to manipulate him. As his uncle had done, stealing the woman he loved, robbing him of his child. His future. So that he could harness Sayid.

And she’d tried to do the same. Tried to tame him, make him a man she could handle.

She wiped her hand over everything on her whiteboard, smearing it past the point of being readable, and forked her fingers through her hair. No wonder he had turned her away. She’d made herself think she was making an offer, when all she was making was demands.

She turned and walked out of her makeshift study and ran down the halls, toward Sayid’s office.

“Curse this massive castle,” she panted as she took the second flight of stairs on her way to his personal quarters.

She ran down the long corridor and wrenched the door open. The room was empty. She turned around, panic clawing at her, before she started out of the room, down the hall. She ran into one of Sayid’s men.

“Where is the sheikh?” she asked, knowing she sounded as shaky and emotional as she felt, not caring.

“The sheikh left. He went back to the capital city.”

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago.”

“How?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did he take a helicopter? Did he walk? Magic carpet?”

“The helicopter I believe.”

She swore and turned back for his office. She walked over to his phone and punched the button that would put her through to the palace. It was answered by one of the office staff.

“Is Sheikh Sayid in?”

“Who is calling?”

“His wife,” she said.

“I’m sorry, sheikha, but he isn’t in.”

She slammed the phone down and planted her palms on the desk, despair covering her like a blanket. And then she saw a name on the speed dial that sent prickles over her skin.

She picked the handset up again, and punched the number.

“Sayid?” The voice on the other end was deep, the Russian accent thick.

“Vasin,” she said.

“Not Sayid. Sheikha?”

“Yes. And I seem to be missing my husband. You found him once, and I need you to find him again.”

“I can do that.”

* * *

Sayid ran across the desert sand, his entire body burning with anguish, a pain that had no name, and no way of being stopped.

He had run out into the desert countless times, hoping to somehow find a moment of release, a moment of freedom. A moment to himself.

He had only ever found it in Chloe’s arms. Had only ever truly been free when he was bound to her, for her.

And she had not used his weakness against him. She was the only one. The only one who had not taken his emotion and used it to exploit him.

The only one who never would.

And he had told her he didn’t want her. He had told her he didn’t love her.

And she had called him a coward. She was right. He had spent so long hiding in anger. Anger had been safe, anger had sustained him. So much so that he had started to believe it was nothing. That he had ceased to feel it.

He had wanted to scream into the emptiness of the desert so many times. Had wanted to release the pain, the pressure, had wanted to tear out of his body, his prison, and let the man he was inside run free. But pain was not acceptable. Showing pain would expose him.

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Eating him alive as he screamed inside.

Always, always he had been too tightly wrapped in the chains Kalid had put around him to do it.

But the break of losing Chloe had loosened the chains, had put a crack in the defenses. He fought against it, fought against the darkness that threatened to pull him back down.

And he thought of Chloe’s face.

He fell to his knees and let out the roar that had been building inside of him for more than half of his life. He let it all flow through him, the pain of being whipped by Kalid. The indignity, the shame, the overwhelming pain of captivity at the hands of his enemies.

The loss of Sura. The loss she’d endured on his behalf. So great, so profound, it brought tears to his eyes. And he let them fall. Let it all pour from him for the first time. For the first time, he grieved rather than hiding.

And when he was through, he stood. And the walls inside were gone.

* * *

The phone on Sayid’s desk rang, and Chloe answered it. “Hello?”

“Sheikha.” It was Alik.

“Did you find him?”

“I did. But he is so close to you, I think you should simply wait a moment.”

“What? Alik...what do you...?”

“Chloe.”

She looked up and saw Sayid in the doorway. And she hung up the phone. “What are you doing here?”

“Alik contacted me, but I was already on my way back.”

“It’s been a week. Where have you been?”

“The desert,” he said. “I had to...the desert is where I lost myself, I thought perhaps I might find myself there. Last place I left me, and all.”

“And did you?”

He shook his head. “Not as you might think.”

“I needed to find you.”

“Didn’t you already say all that could be said?”

“No. I didn’t. I realized something after you left, Sayid. I realized that I was just doing to you what everyone has done to you all of your life. I was trying to make you right for me, trying to make you fit my expectation while I ignored what you said. What you wanted. I have to respect that even if it isn’t what I want, who you are is valuable. And what you want is valuable. What you feel, or don’t feel, is up to you, and it’s personal. It’s yours. Because you don’t belong to a country, or even to me, you belong to you. No one has ever given you that respect, and I realize that I didn’t either. You deserve better than that. From me. From everyone.”

“Oh, Chloe.” He walked toward her, rounding the desk, pulling her into his arms and tugging her against him. “Do you feel that?” he asked.

“What?”

He took her hand and placed it on his chest, his heart beat raging against her palm. “That. My heart.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Love. I feel it.”

“Oh.” She leaned in and kissed his chest. “Oh, Sayid.” She rested her head there, just listening to the beat of his heart for a moment.

“Chloe,” he said, sifting his fingers through her hair. “Don’t you understand? I didn’t find myself in the desert, because you weren’t there. I found myself with you. And it frightened me. I didn’t recognize the feeling, the fear, because it had been so long since I’d been allowed to feel it, but that’s what it was.”

She lifted her head so that she could look at him, could look into his eyes. They weren’t flat now, they were shining.

“Do you know what I was afraid of, Chloe?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Not of enemies. Not like I thought. That’s what I was told, why I was told I couldn’t feel. But the simple truth is, the enemies of my people harmed my body, but it was Kalid who scarred my soul. Kalid who used my emotion against me. Everything that gave me happiness he saw taken from me. Everything I wanted, he held out of my reach. Every emotion I had he exposed as a weakness and he used it to bend me to his will. To make me into the man, into the thing, that he wanted. His personal super soldier. A machine who might as well have metal in his chest instead of a beating heart. Everyone I cared about has used my emotions against me, and with you, Chloe, I had no defenses.”

“Oh, Sayid...”

“Do you know how badly I needed that?” he asked. “With you, I could be powerless, and you didn’t use it against me. That first night, when you tied me to the bed...”

“At your request,” she said.

“At my request,” he said. “I found freedom in giving control to someone else. In letting go for a moment, of all the things, all of the conditioning I’d been subjected to. And then, on the beach...I was undone, Chloe. I couldn’t handle what you made me feel.”

“And I pushed you.”

“I needed to be pushed. I thought...since I had to take over as ruler...I thought I was breaking. It wasn’t me that was breaking. It was those walls, those damned walls that I’ve been trapped behind for most of my life.”

“I was asking things of you that I shouldn’t have. I was asking you to be something I needed, instead of asking you what you needed.”

“You,” he said, his voice rough, “I needed you. I still do. I will, forever. Because I can be exposed to you. Because you set me free.”

“I feel like all I’ve done is take things from you,” she said. “You...you made me feel so safe. You let me bind your hands when you’ve been through that before in such awful circumstances. You married me so that I could have Aden. You...you’ve taken all my fear and my pain, you’ve given me something totally new. A fresh start, a new way to look at love.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that, habibti, because before you, there was a hole inside of me, and I was certain, certain that I must have stolen from you in order to fill it. Because I’m not empty anymore, Chloe.”

“Maybe that’s what love is supposed to be, Sayid. It doesn’t take, it only adds more.”

“I think you’re right.”

“I know that was my experience with Aden. As much as it cost me, and at first it felt like a cost, to have him, just loving him gave me back so much more.”

Sayid took in a shuddering breath. “Aden,” he said. “And you. It seems like far too much for a man like me to have. It seems so much more than I deserve.”

“No, Sayid. It’s everything you’ve always deserved, everything that was stolen from you.”

“You make me believe it,” he said. “You make me feel...I have never felt like I was worth anything. I’ve never felt like my life mattered. But when I look into your eyes, I know that it does.”

“It does,” she whispered, pain, pain for all he had been through, constricting her throat. “You matter so much. Not because of what you can give the world, although you’ve given so much, and will always give more, but because of what you give to me. Because of what you’ll give to Aden.”

“I want...” his voice was husky, choked, “I want to be his father. To be your husband. To be your family.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I want that, too.”

“I love you, Chloe. With you, everything makes sense. With you, I don’t feel like I’m trapped inside of myself. I just...am.”

“And you’ve shown me that love gives, it gives more than it takes. As you’ve given to me.”

“And as you’ve done for me.”

“What do you think? Sixteen years of marriage doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?” she asked, leaning in and kissing his lips.

“It still doesn’t seem ideal.”

She frowned. “It doesn’t?”

“No, Chloe al Kadar, I don’t want sixteen years. I want nothing less than a lifetime. You have to admit, since we love each other, it’s the only logical thing.”

“Well, Sheikh Sayid al Kadar, since you have presented me with completely infallible logic, I accept.”

“So, in the end my logic won you over.”

She shook her head. “No. In the end, it was your love that won.”

* * *

A couple months later, they discovered that breastfeeding wasn’t the world’s most effective form of birth control.

Chloe sat on the edge of their bed, in their shared room, with a shocked look on her face.

“You’re a scientist,” Sayid said dryly, the distressed look on his wife’s face nearly comical. “You should have known this could happen.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You’re hormonal already.”

She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “You aren’t freaking out,” she said.

“I’m not. Because I’m happy.”

“You are?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? This time with you and Aden...these have been the best months of my life. You were right about love,” he said. “It just keeps growing, and now...now it’s going to grow even more.”

“This might be the second son,” she said.

He nodded. “And he will be treated no different than the first. And the one after him will be treated no different. All of our children will be loved. And they will be here, with us.”

She nodded, a smile on her lovely face. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

“You were afraid I would not?”

“Not really but...tradition...”

“Damn tradition. I already have you in my room, in my bed every night. Aden already spends more time with us than with his nannies. I have no interest in tradition. I want a family.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m so glad we get to have it together.”





EPILOGUE



Sixteen years later...

“WHERE IS ADEN?”

Chloe turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, nerves fluttering in her stomach. “He’s in his room.”

“And is he ready?”

“He’s just a boy, Sayid.”

“He’s the heir to the throne of Attar. And he’s about to take his place.”

She nodded. “I know. He was born for it. He’s spent his life preparing for it...but...”

“But you’re his mother, and you can’t help but worry about him.” Sayid crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Sixteen years hadn’t diminished the power of his touch. To create desire in her body, to fill her with lust, with need. With love. “I’m his father. I feel the same way. But he’s strong. He’s smart. And he has us.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Are the other children ready?”

“I’m just hoping no one spilled anything on their clothes. They got dressed so early it doesn’t seem like all the outfits will make it through to the coronation clean.”

“It doesn’t matter if they don’t. We’ve never pretended to be a traditional royal family.”

“I don’t suppose we had a hope of it.”

“No, Dr. al Kadar,” Sayid said. “I don’t suppose we did. Not many sheikhas teach at universities.”

“And not many sheikhs have children’s artwork hanging all over their office.”

“I suppose not. But not many sheikhs have a family as wonderful as mine.”

Aden appeared in the doorway, his clothing perfectly pressed, the expression on his young face fill with utter seriousness. A surge of pride, of love, went through Chloe. Her oldest son was a man now in the eyes of the country, but to her, he would always be the baby she’d cradled to her chest. The baby she’d give up everything for.

The baby that had, in the end, given her everything in her life that mattered.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“So are we,” Sayid said, keeping on arm around Chloe’s waist and putting his hand on Aden’s shoulder. “As soon as you want to go in, we’ll follow.”

“I’m glad you’ll be with me,” Aden said.

“Always. We’re always here behind you.”

“I’ve never doubted that.” He gave them both a smile and walked back out, toward the throne room, toward his future.

“That boy,” Sayid said, “is the hope of a nation. But more than that, he’s our son. He brought us together. Nothing will change that.”

“I know,” Chloe said. She turned to Sayid and kissed him, kissed him with all of the passion that had built between them, grown, over the years of their marriage. “If we had kept to our original plan, this is the day we would have gone our separate ways.”

Sayid wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her against him. “Instead, I think I’ll hold on to you a little bit tighter.”

She encircled his waist, pressing her hands to his lower back. “Me, too.”

“Will you put on your glasses later and talk to me in your stern professor voice?”

She laughed. “If you don’t behave yourself during this very solemn occasion, I may tie you to the bed.” She kissed his lips again. “It will give you something to look forward to.”

“Habibti, with you, I always have something to look forward to.”