Sean sat in the chair he had moved over to the room on the opposite side of the window to the isolation room Leila had been staying in for the past five months. They were getting closer to finding a cure for the virus Sophia and her people had infected her with, and the leaps and bounds they had made in the research process allowed Sean and Leila to feel hopeful for the future.
Another thing was the fact that they finally found out the sex of their baby.
Leila shifted so that she could look at him, smiling. "What should we name her, Sean?"
He was quiet for a while, mulling the question over in his head. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it before, as the time between peace communications was spent glancing over baby name books and building a mental list which never quite made it to paper. And yet, despite his small amount of preparation and thought, his mind suddenly blanked for all names but one. "How about Sarah?"
"Well, you know, it means 'princess' and all." He shrugged, wishing he had a better, deeper reason for the name. One that wasn't as cheesy as the whole 'her name means princess and she's our princess' thing.
She was quiet for a long time, looking at him and yet not in a way that told him she was a million miles away, thinking about something. It was an expression he'd quickly learned the nuances of out of necessity, so he could tell the difference between when she was thinking about something painful like her captivity or something more nostalgic and bittersweet like her parents. It was the latter.
Finally, refocused on him, and simply stated, "My mom's middle name was 'Sarah'."
Panic and quilt hit him immediately. He should've known that, and if he'd known that he would've known better than to suggest it. "Oh – we don't have to name her Sarah, I mean it was just an idea and all – "
Leila cut him off immediately, "Sean, the name is perfect."
His panic slowly melted away as he smiled tentatively, "Really?"
She nodded, and placed her hand on the window that separated them, Sean putting his hand on the glass so that, if they were not separated by the glass, they would be touching. The simple gesture had grown ingrained in both of them over the months. It wasn't the closest they could be to each other, as several times he had been allowed into the isolation room in a biohazard suit (he always meant to take the time to talk with her, but in the end he just ended up holding her for a few hours) but it couldn't happen often.
"I can't wait 'til I'm healthy again." She whispered, tracing her fingers along the outline of his hand.
He couldn't help but to smile a little, happy that he still had Leila, happy that they were going to have a baby, happy that things weren't so hopeless anymore. For a while, he'd thought this would be something he'd never get. That the happiness and love he would have had with Leila was gone forever, stolen by the conspiracy he was thrust into. He never had talked about it, or brought it up, because, frankly, he didn't have the time, but it was something that he'd started to believe.
He'd been wrong. Not that things were easy. It still killed him to look at Leila, lying in a hospital bed, weak from the virus. Sometimes he wanted to scream at Sophia for what she did to her, and bottling that up because he knew that wouldn't help the tenuous peace they had wasn't exactly the best plan.
The point was, he had her, and their baby, Sarah. It was way more than he had grown to expect, and, even with the hardships and sorrows, he could accept that.