August

July 29: Saturday

It was hell being alone. Absolute, abject, abysmal hell.
But there was nowhere left to go.
They had all emerged from the cold, detached darkness of a government home to the smoldering embers of a home long gone.
Sean had been hit the hardest. His mother, father, brothers - all gone. Only he and Adrian and the baby now, and the Mackenzies. Sean was grateful to have them - glad that he was left with some semblance of support, but it was not the same. Will Mackenzie was not Ian Wick, and Ren wasn't June.
The rumors said his mother and brothers had been taken somewhere, were not dead as he'd feared, but he ached all the same.

Will Mackenzie came and stood beside him at the memorial site.
"Thinking of going North." he said, casually, but with some expectance. Sean waited; his heart ached, his body ached. He resented Adrian for having so much and he so little. He resented his father for leaving him. He ached to go home.
"North sounds good." he said roughly, his own voice failing him, too.
"Better land up there." Will Mackenzie said, cryptically. Sean shrugged.
"Need to find a doctor. For Ren and Adie."
Will Mackenzie nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Find one in the north. And good land, too. Place to start over."
Sean stared off across the perversity of the expanse - there had been buildings here, and there, and their skeletons still stood, skinny and burnt and black. But the structures were transparent now - wind blew through frames and collapsing edges. He could see the trees through someone's house.
"Sounds good." he said again, for lack of anything better to say.
Will Mackenzie looked at him, then off at the landscape again.
"Well." he said, finally. "When you're ready. Car's waiting."
And then he was gone.
Sean allowed himself fifteen more minutes with the body of his hometown; the carcass of his former life. There was no life in it now; no speckles of movement or distant, human noise or creation or destruction or rise and fall and waking and sleeping of a civilization. There was just quiet wind, blowing across the embers and towards the forest behind.
There is no going back to that which has ended, Sean mused.
There is no choice but to start over.

~:~

The big, gray bird took off from Union territory and landed in the A.W.N.S., carrying 137 passengers inside of it. Sheridan, who had never been in an airplane for so long before, squeezed Aaron Soyinka's hand and fretted nervously. Aaron, who usually enjoyed a plane ride, was on edge himself. The events at the hospital, the incident with James had put them both out of sorts. They had changed the dates on their tickets - they would move now, rather than wait past July. It had been expensive, but Aaron felt it had been worth it. The last thing they needed was to pack another box or read another paper or see another photograph of their friends' old lives. Once they had been cleared from police questioning, Soyinka and Sheridan had gone home, packed everything they couldn't stand to abandon, and taken the next available flight. The green hills of England would be a fresh start, Aaron had promised his companion. Things would be better in his homeland; they could have a house near the city, and better jobs for Aaron, and family nearby, and maybe new friends and a new life. And things were easier for carriers there, too - perhaps Sheridan could find a little job, some small freedoms.

They soared through the night, over the Atlantic, their old world growing ever smaller in their sight. Sheridan watched, through the window, until it was too dark to see anymore and the world fizzled away to ocean, human vision losing its grasp. Then he settled in, pulled the blanket closer around him, and leaned in to his husband's shoulder. Soyinka, sitting next to him, was reading quietly aloud from one of his volumes, trying to help Sheridan to sleep. He crossed a certain line, and Sheridan sat up suddenly.
"Alright?" Soyinka inquired, worriedly.
Sheridan blinked at him.
"Yes, it's just that part. Read it again?"
"And they were frightened," Aaron read in a rumbling, low voice. "And called him the most wild thing of all, and made him king of all wild things. 'And now,' cried Max - "
Sheridan squeezed his arm abruptly, tightly.
"Yes," he said, in a voice that was half-hysterical, half-reverent. "That's it. That bit right there."
Soyinka furrowed his brow, his dark eyes looking bemused.
"What's it?"
Sheridan beamed up at his husband, his face bright even in the dim light of the cabin.
"That's his name."
It dawned on Soyinka, and he smiled.
"The baby?" he asked. Sheridan nodded, frantically. "Max?" he asked, just to be sure.
"Max." Sheridan confirmed, looking again out of the window over the Atlantic. "A wild, free thing."

~:~

Ghali's escort arrived before the shipment from Dothan did. Mahir, who had been lingering anxiously by every door and window since Al-Aera's pronouncement, was the first to spot the caravan.

Doubtless, Al-Aera had made certain of Ghali's safety as he traveled to Wafra. There were double the number of guards as Al-Aera had brought, and there were two decoy cars, intended to disguise Ghali's transport further. Anthony made Mahir wait on the steps with the rest of the group, preventing him bodily from rushing down to the car as the doors opened.

When Ghali appeared, the energy of the group became uncontainable. Little Anthony and Khalil broke rank first, almost tripping down the steps to get to their brother. Mahir went after them, ostensibly to keep them from hurting themselves, but really wanting to be the first to hug Ghali again. Henrik and Anthony tied, both heading into a run at the same time, and Tyson and Everett and the rest tagged behind. Only Caddy and Al-Aera remained on the stairs.

Ghali looked different - they all saw that immediately - but not much worse for the wear. His hair was braided neatly to one side, and veiled, and his eyes were darkened with kohl and his skin glowed a beautifully dark, sandy color from the sun and being rubbed with oils. New bands of gold were at his throat, his wrists, his ears. Ghali stepped out of the car, took one look at his family, all tumbling and rushing towards him, and started to cry tears of abject delight.

He looked up, then, wanting to see Wafra again, his childhood home, and caught sight of Al-Aera on the stairs. He averted his eyes immediately, and turned his attention to Khalil and Tony, who were clinging to his legs, and Mahir, who was hugging him desperately, and Anthony and Henrik, who were asking him rapid, demanding questions.

Eventually, the excitement calmed down, and Henrik ushered them all inside, including Phidias, who he scolded for having come out in the heat in the first place. Anders met them at the door and lingered at the edge of the group; he opened his mouth once, as if wanting to say something to Ghali, but then caught sight of Cadmus, and so shut it and went away again. Ghali glanced after him one time, but not again. Al-Aera led them into the dining room for lunch.

~

They all ate the evening meal together, too - wisps of celebration still lingered in the halls of Wafra, and so Henrik brought out more champagne and they feasted again. All the more reason to celebrate, he pointed out, now that Ghali was home.

Ghali blushed at this, and cast a furtive glance at Al-Aera, who looked unmoved, and then picked at his food again.
"Ghali." At his husband's voice, Ghali's head jerked up again. "Eat." Al-Aera warned him.
"I will." he answered hotly, under his breath. "Give me time, Azim."
Al-Aera grunted and turned away to refuse a glass of champagne; a eunuch brought him juice instead.

~

Late that night, while Al-Aera and the rest met regarding some minor business, Mahir snuck into Ghali's dressing room for a meeting of their own.
"You can tell me the truth. Does he beat you?"
Ghali looked at his carrier parent's reflection in the mirror and shook his head.
"No. Not anymore."
Mahir's belly hurt to hear just that.
"We can - "
"I'm fine, Mahir." Ghali interjected, gently. "I promise."
Mahir came closer, worrying at the edge of his sleeve. Ghali, sitting at the vanity in his room, had taken his veil off, and was unbraiding his hair. Mahir watched his son work on that for a moment - watched the elegant, flighty movements that Mahir had so meticulously taught him. He met Ghali's eyes in the reflection.
"I don't know that you are fine. I don't know how he treats you - what he does to you. Are you hurt? Are you suffering? In pain? Do you need our help? Do you want to come home? I don't know anything."
Ghali smiled gently at the other carrier's reflection.
"I'm not suffering. Azim treats me well." he picked up his hairbrush. "I have anything I want from him. He's a very good husband."
"Are you pregnant?"
This gave Ghali pause; he broke his rhythm with the hairbrush.
"Not yet." he answered.
"Then we can get you back, Ghali! He doesn't have proof if - "
"No." Ghali interrupted his parent, firmly. "I can't come back."
Mahir's heart broke, just a little, and he said, with more conviction in his tone,
"Ghali, I can fix this! I know I can. Just tell me what you - "
"Ma-ma." Ghali interrupted him again, pityingly, "It's too late." he said. "It's over."
Mahir bit his lip, overcome with helplessness suddenly, and with sadness for Ghali. His eyes brimmed up with tears, and spilled over.
"But you belong here, with us. It can't be over."
Ghali set down his brush and turned from the mirror to face his parent. He reached out and grasped Mahir's hand in his own.
"But I couldn't stay here forever, could I? I couldn't be your child forever." he shrugged, as if to shake his carrier parent's worries off. "I had to grow up."

The opening of the door startled them both, but Al-Aera took one look at the scene and bowed deferentially.
"I'll go for tea." he said, and shut the door behind himself.
Mahir turned back to Ghali.
"Ghali, please. There are so many more opportunities for you. You can come with us, live here. Learn the sciences, perhaps travel. Go to school, even. Make something of your life."
Ghali smiled indulgently.
"I know that that's the life you wanted for me, Ma." he frowned, as if trying to decide how best to deliver unpleasant news. "But it's not the life I wanted for myself."
There was silence, then Mahir asked,
"So is this...what you wanted?"
Ghali frowned again, sure of his answer but unsure how to phrase it.
"No. But I have it. Maybe it's better for me, maybe worse. Who knows? But it's mine." he hesitated. "Sometimes, things change and can't be changed back. So this is it. This is my life now, whether we like it or not. I have a new family, a new job. I start again."
Mahir felt tears brimming again, and took his hand from Ghali's to rub at his eyes.
"I don't want you to start again. I want things to go back."
Ghali just smiled, and stood to hug his carrier father.
"I know." he said, gently, "But they don't."

~:~