Chapter Twenty-seven

"When two people decide to get a divorce, it isn't a sign that they

'don't understand' one another, but a sign that they have, at last, begun to."

- Helen Rowland

It was the priest who heard them. He must have been on the edge of the jungle and the beach, because it was not long before he burst into the clearing. He untied Nadia first, and then Sayid. Sayid immediately kneeled before Nadia and stroked her cheek. "Did he hurt you?"

Nadia took his hand and squeezed it. "I am well," she said, and Sayid helped her from the ground.

Now footsteps began to approach, and with them, the murmuring of a child. Claire saw Nadia and Sayid freeing themselves of the last remnants of their bonds, and from her face, she seemed to have guessed what happened.

"I told you to wait on the beach," said Marcus, walking towards her, glancing cautiously in every direction as he did so.

"I…" Claire began uncertainly, "I was worried…"

"It wasn't wise."

"You sound like Charlie," she said, the disappointment not hidden from her voice.

"Well I don't much care who I sound like," he said softly. "I only care that you are safe." He put a hand against the small of her back and began to usher her out of the jungle. He turned back to look at Sayid and Nadia, who followed him. He hadn't asked yet what had happened, and Sayid was not looking forward to giving an answer.

When they were safe on the beach, Marcus said something quietly to Claire who nodded. Claire then invited Nadia into her tent for the rest of the night, and Nadia, after a single glance at Sayid, followed.

The priest turned to Sayid. "What happened back there?"

Sayid told him of their love for one another, of Nadia's decision to leave Nasser, of his jealous rage, and of Nasser's flight into the jungle. "We'll organize a search party at dawn," said Marcus.

"He does not wish to be found."

"Then he won't be," Marcus answered. The eyes he cast at Sayid revealed he was disappointed in the Iraqi.

"It was not as you are thinking," hastened Sayid. "We did nothing. I love her."

"That doesn't make destroying their marriage right."

It was a clear accusation, and yet…strangely, somehow it was of more comfort to Sayid than when Claire had called his desires a mere mistake. Perhaps that was because a man who carries a burden of guilt, although he desperately wants that burden lifted, does not really want it casually dismissed. "What would make it right?" he asked.

The priest shrugged. "Time will not erase the past."

"I want to marry her."

"Are you looking to me for approval?"

"Certainly not," said Sayid. "I merely wish to hear your opinion because I respect you."

Marcus's eyes softened. He sighed. "Why did she choose to leave him? I mean—other than you—was there a reason?"

Sayid told him. Marcus looked bewildered that Nasser could have wounded Nadia so deeply. "I myself was divorced," he said. "My wife left me for her lover, just after I returned from the war, before I became a priest. That was what I meant, those many weeks ago, when I told you I had no home to return to. So if I seemed unsympathetic to you…"

Sayid did not attempt to commiserate with him. He only waited for the priest to continue.

Finally, Marcus said, "I do not believe in divorce; I do not believe it should ever happen. And yet it does. It will. The world is fallen, and all our longing cannot set it right. All we can do is press on, and do justice in the future, as best we can. Marry her. Love her faithfully. It will never obliterate the past, but it will brighten the future."

Sayid nodded. He looked relieved.

"Of course," said Marcus, "there can be no official divorce or marriage in this place, at least not according to human institutions. If ever we are rescued, things will have to be dealt with on those terms. But here…here…we make our vows to God."

After they exchanged a little more conversation about the incident, the priest murmured that Sayid should get some sleep, and the two parted ways. Sayid collapsed on the floor of his tent, but it was another hour before his mind would let him rest.

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The next morning the search party was organized. This time, Nadia and Sayid did not join it. Later that afternoon, Nadia knelt in the sand beside him where he sat at his workbench, examining the map he was making of the island. The search for Tracey had revealed new lands that needed to be chartered; perhaps one day the island's entire expanse would be lain out on parchment. He hoped it would not come to that; but for now, he ought to record what he knew.

"Locke and Ana have returned," she said. "Locke said Nasser's tracks disappeared within a mile of the spot where we were bound. He said they were expertly covered."

Having said this, Nadia lowered her eyes. Sayid knew that her resolute hope, which had worked such wonders in him but had failed with Nasser, must leave her somewhat disillusioned. Part of him wished she would not regret the loss of Nasser, but the rest of him understood that this present sadness was but evidence of the loyalty, compassion, and perseverance that made him love her.

She now slid herself off her knees and sat cross-legged in the sand, leaning against him. He too sat down beside her, and he let his arm surround her. He turned and kissed her, more urgently than he had planned. He had thought this first kiss would begin tenderly, but that she would slowly open her mouth to him, allowing his tongue gradually inside. Instead, he devoured her lips hungrily, and she responded just as eagerly.

When they parted, she cast her eyes to the sand below them, and asked, timidly, "Does it bother you to know I am carrying Nasser's child?"

He was glad she was not looking at him. Of course he had known she was not living celibately with her husband, but it had been easier not to think of such things before. He forced down the last remnants of his jealousy, and he buried those distasteful feelings permanently. Then he titled her head upward and forced her to look at him. "The child is mine," he insisted. "I will hear no more on the subject."

She kissed him gratefully, her gratitude soon turning to passion, and when their lips parted for a second time, he whispered, "You are mine as well."

"Yes, Sayid."

"Today, let the gossip finish working its whirlwind across the camp," he said. "And then, tomorrow night, come to me in my tent."

She agreed, kissed his cheek, and then drew away, rising to grant him some time alone with his complex maps and his simple expectations.