Khalid wandered through Australia in a daze. He felt just as lost as he had when he was buried underground for nearly two centuries, even with the freedom to move about. 

Asim had betrayed him. As Cody, he had completely rejected Khalid, to the point where he had burned his body in order to be certain that there would be nothing left of him. 

Now, Asim existed somewhere else in the world, and Khalid did not know where. Nor did he want to know. The urge to throw Asim down the deepest darkest hole in the ground was strong. Khalid had never felt a betrayal like that in his life before, not even from his own family burying him alive and leaving him to rot, and the pain of it burned furiously inside of him. 

He had made a mistake with Colin. Of course, it would be hard to have Cody forgive him for that. But the extent to which Cody had sought to wipe him from the earth had Khalid reeling. He never could have fathomed that the one he loved in every life would ever hate his guts.

The landscape of Australia that he traversed was at times desolate, and at other times, incredible to look upon. He saw all manner of animals, at times receiving a bite from a random snake or spider he happened upon that might have killed a mortal man. Khalid continued along, one day stopping to let his feet heal near a large lake. 

He heard the crunch of feet on rock, and turned around to see a young man looking at him curiously. The man was a native, and by looking into his eyes, Khalid learned that his name was Jarrah. He also learned that Jarrah had no ill intentions toward him, and was rather curious about this newcomer to this land. Khalid was even more surprised to learn that Jarrah found him handsome. 

Jarrah welcomed Khalid into his village, and soon enough, Khalid began to feel a sense of peace and belonging. He even found himself becoming infatuated with the young man, who felt equally attracted to him. Together, they hunted, scavenged, hid from the white settlers who occasionally traveled through, and just generally made a happy life for themselves. 

This went on for years. Khalid watched Jarrah age. Watched the grays slowly take over his hair, the lines slowly deepening in his face. Watching Jarrah slowly waste away to his mortality was crushing. Jarrah similarly noticed that Khalid did not age. That no gray came to his hair, nor lines to his face. When others in their village looked at this strangely, Khalid simply wiped the thought from their minds, but he told Jarrah the truth, which he took in stride. 

One day, 38 or so years after he had dug himself out of the grave Cody had dug for him, Khalid felt Cody’s death. Or the death of whatever new person he had been born as. He could not help the tears that fell from his eyes. Jarrah saw this, and sat down with him, holding him close. The young man that Khalid had met almost forty years ago was now in his sixties. His bones were weaker, his gait slower, and there was a suspicious lump in his stomach that caused him great pain, but his love for Khalid was as strong as ever. 

“What ails you, my love?” Jarrah asked. 

Khalid smiled at him. Looking into Jarrah’s eyes, he could feel the excruciating pain he was in today. His stomach was so much worse. The lump growing ever larger. He had lost the ability to eat. Khalid pushed a feeling of peace and painlessness into Jarrah’s mind, and took his hand. 

“A dear friend of mine has died today. It was someone I thought I would never care to see again, but that is not the case. I feel drawn to him as ever.” Khalid admitted.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Said Jarrah, squeezing his hand. 

“No, I am sorry.” Said Khalid. “I am sorry that your disease is eating you from the inside. That you are in such pain every day. I am sorry that there is not more we could do to help you. I love you.”

He did love Jarrah. He did feel a genuine affection for him, a simple happy connection. 

It was different than the pull he felt toward Asim. That pull was all encompassing, obsessive, a tingle throughout his entire being. 

Jarrah leaned his head against Khalid, holding his hand tight. Together they sat, watching the sunset. Nine days later, Jarrah passed away in his sleep, his body no longer able to fight the sickness within him. Khalid wrapped his body lovingly. Jarrah’s family, including two sisters and a brother, celebrated him as his body lay within his home. Then, after a few days, Khalid took him and placed him on a platform as per his rituals. Khalid kissed his own hand and pressed it to the shroud, before he walked away. 

There was nothing in that village for him now. 

A month after Asim’s latest death, Khalid once again felt his birth. He was born in the colonies. In the south. It would take Khalid some time to reach him.

Having found peace and love, a pure love, one unmarred by the complications of his long life, he was finally ready to be with Asim again. 

*****

After many months, Khalid made his way out of Australia and took a ship first back to England, then on toward the colonies. He reached Savannah Georgia, where Asim had been reborn, but unfortunately, there was no sign of him. No one seemed to have any idea about him, and Khalid searched every set of eyes he could find just to be sure. 

No matter. Asim was too young anyway, and had clearly not died yet in this life. Khalid was sure he would find him. He began to explore the colonies, making his way around the various established states. He felt ill at ease in the South, where Slavery was rampant. Khalid would free the occasional slave, and murder the occasional master, but he was careful not to draw attention to himself. He had been taken unaware too many times in his life, and he knew it could easily happen again. 

As much as he wanted to free every slave, he knew it was dangerous for him. Too many enemies. Too much risk. He did not fancy being buried alive again. 

He made his way north, reveling at this New World being built by the European settlers. His mind wandered at times to Jarrah, and he would shed the occasional tear at his loss. Then he would hasten onward, scanning the world for any sign of his Asim. He was hopeful that in this life, Asim would find no reason to be angry with him, and every reason to live eternal with him. 

After nearly three decades in the colonies, and beginning to lose hope, Khalid happened into a tavern in Washington DC. He figured that if he drank an exorbitant amount, enough to affect even an immortal, he might be able to forget the struggles of his strange life for just a night. 

He saw a group of men conversing at a table. One of them, who happened to be standing, was tall, and handsome, with distinctively bushy eyebrows. It took a moment before Khalid realized he was feeling that pull, that feeling that meant Asim was near. Was right here. 

The handsome man looked over, straight into his eyes with a smile, and Khalid realized that it was him. 

It was Asim.

He quickly scanned Asim’s companions and learned that his name was Lee Miller. 

He was drinking merry on this night because he was prepared to go into battle soon. They would be marching south on President Lincoln’s orders to take on the Confederate Army. The war between North and South raged on, and Lee knew firmly what side he was on. 

“Hello friend. What brings you here?” Lee asked.

Khalid was at a loss. He had forgotten how beautiful Asim was, in every iteration. The butterflies in his stomach were back. Here he was, a handsome grown man, almost thirty,  fighting for the freedom of the slaves. 

“I came in here to drink.” Stated Khalid. “I did not expect such frivolity tonight.”

Lee laughed, as did several of the men around him. 

“Life is short, my friend. Any one of us could die on that battlefield. Tonight, we celebrate being alive. We celebrate a future that we may never get to see. Most of all, we celebrate hope!”

“Hear hear!” Cried another man. 

“You fight to free the slaves.” Stated Khalid, sitting down across from Lee at the table. Lee slowly sat down with him, that dashing grin on his face. 

“We fight to free the men, women, and children who are shackled in this moment, yearning to be free.

Khalid could not believe his luck. He had found Lee before he went into battle. There was time to save him, to protect him. 

To have a life with him.

Khalid ordered an ale, and began to drink and learn about Lee’s life. Throughout the evening, Khalid slowly began to nudge Lee’s friends away with a thought here and there, giving them all reasonable excuses to be on their way so that he could have the man to himself. In their extended conversation, Khalid learned that Lee had traveled up from the south with his family as a baby when they came to join the abolitionists. For the longest time, they had lived in Massachusetts, getting a proper education. He was an avid reader, and even as a child had questioned why the founding fathers had claimed to create a country of equality when most of them still owned slaves. 

“I yearn for a better country. A new United States, where all people have a voice. Women and black folks included.” Lee said. “I reckon Lincoln is on to something, and though I imagine the loss of life will be great, I know that it will be worth it.”

He was still waxing eloquently, despite being on his sixth ale. His height must have given him quite the advantage in the drinking department. Khalid hardly felt a buzz, except the one he got from talking to Lee. There was no anger anymore. Cody’s actions were in the past. Lee was practically a new person altogether, only with the essence of Asim’s spirit. The goodness, the kindness, the willingness to protect the weak and vulnerable. 

Eventually, they were ushered out of the dining area, and Lee insisted that Khalid follow him to his room to continue their conversation. Khalid was ecstatic. He wondered how much Lee recognized him. He did not exactly fit in there, being obviously from the other side of the world. Many cast curious glances at him, but Lee was not fazed by his appearance. On the contrary, he seemed to want to get to know Khalid all the more. 

They talked at length in Lee’s room, Khalid giving vague descriptions of his journey from Egypt and what that might have entailed. He of course left out several hundred years of his life, but made sure to mention how he had been a slave who had managed to escape. Lee was in awe of his story. 

Khalid realized that they had been sitting on the bed next to one another for some time now, getting closer and closer. He looked up into Lee’s eyes, which were a dark blue-green. They were looking deep into his. 

A moment later they were kissing. Khalid was not sure who had initiated it, but it did not matter. The kiss was passionate, exquisite. They fell back on the bed together, lost in the bliss of the moment, tearing each other’s clothes off.

Later, Khalid lay awake in bed, grinning with his whole face, feeling completely whole and happy and like he was where he was meant to be. Lee dozed next to him, snoring ever so softly, and making occasional noises in his sleep that made Khalid all the more giddy.

This is what his life was supposed to be like. The two of them, happy together. A blissful couple. Khalid lay there for some time, just relishing the moment. 

When the sun began to rise, Khalid decided he was going to treat Lee to a delicious surprise breakfast. One he would make himself, with whatever he could find. He carefully got out of bed, quiet as a mouse so as not to wake Lee. Then he got dressed, and, praying that Lee would not leave before he got back, he headed out to find the ingredients he needed to make one incredible breakfast.

Khalid hurried through the city, grabbing eggs, vegetables, and spices to make Shakshuka, a breakfast dish that Asim had loved back in Egypt. He also grabbed some fruit as an extra treat. He felt somewhat bad for taking all the food without payment to make something for Lee, but reasoned that it would be okay in the grand scheme of things. After all, he had not taken very much. 

He made his way back to the tavern, and used the tiny but somehow adequate kitchen to cook up the food just perfectly. He had forgotten how much he liked to cook. 

When everything was ready, he set it all on a wooden tray, excited to bring it up to Lee’s room. As he was preparing the tray with a glass of milk, a horrible feeling rushed over him. 

“No!” Khalid gasped, dropping the glass of milk so that it shattered on the ground. He turned and ran out of the kitchen, bolting up the stairs to Lee’s room. There was a crimson stain spreading out on the bed. A man stood over Lee’s body, knife in hand, breathing heavily. He turned to Khalid, who immediately was swept up in a sickening rush of pro-slavery sentiment. The man, William, had camped out all night, and had killed several members of Lee’s party in their sleep. He was a die-hard Confederate, who wanted to end the soldiers before they even had a chance to fight. 

Khalid slumped back against the wall, looking at Lee’s still form. Lee’s eyes were open. The knife had been plunged into his throat, severing windpipe and arteries in a jagged hacking motion. 

He was lost again. 

William rounded on Khalid, who barely had the will to press the thought into his head to cut his own windpipe. He did of course, slowly suffocating in fear and agony as he fell to the floor. 

Khalid walked over and sat on the bed, gently caressing Lee’s cheek with his hand. 

He should never have left. 

He should never have fucking left. 

Lee’s breakfast was getting cold downstairs, and for what? It did not matter. He would never get to eat it. 

Khalid dragged his fingers gently over Lee’s eyes, closing them. He did not know where to go from here. He lay down next to Lee’s still form for a time, wishing he had done everything differently. Breakfast did not matter. He could have stayed in bed. Could have remained with his love, who would be alive and safe now. 

After several hours, Khalid rose from the bed. He walked through the tavern until he found what he was looking for. He took a large bottle of rum and soaked a cloth in it, attaching the cloth to the bottle. When the barman protested, Khalid pushed the thought into his head for him to leave the tavern, and take everyone he could with him. Then he set the cloth alight, and heaved the bottle at the corner of the tavern bar. It exploded in a wall of glass and flame. The fire licked the walls, burning up until it sizzled alongside the other bottles of alcohol. Slowly, the heat began to burn them all with a violent burst from each progressive container. 

Khalid slowly walked outside and shouted up at the building to anyone who might still be asleep in there. 

“Fire! Get out!”

He watched it for a moment, the flames engulfing what he knew to be Lee’s room. A proper disposal of his beloved’s body. Khalid watched the entire building burn down as men and women ran out with surprised shouts of dismay. 

By the evening, it was mere cinders.

Khalid turned and walked away, determined not to let death reach his Asim again. 

Chapter 35 – My Tears Are Becoming a Sea