A/N: A lot going on in this chapter. It's a long one to make up for the wait. xx
I stare into the window, smiling softly as Ida hands Mia Alexander. Mia is grinning from ear to ear, looking exhausted but completely optimistic.
Doctor Overton is standing directly beside me, his arms crossed over his chest.
"She will need bi-weekly visits for the first few months, where we will conduct multiple exams to ensure that her body is accepting her new organ."
I'm unable to tear my eyes off of her. "What... are the odds that her body won't? I mean, we waited for a good match, that means our chances are greater, right?"
"Yes, sir. It does, of course. But that never guarantees the longevity of the organ."
I press my lips together, and turn to look at him. "Longevity of the organ?"
Overton frowns. "I mentioned this- before in our first meeting after Mia awoke from the coma. And a few times after. You surely remember?"
What the hell is he going on about? I shake my head, confused. "I don't understand, doctor. This has healed her, correct?"
He nods. "Yes, her body is taking well to the new heart organ. There are, of course, precautions that will need to be taken for the rest of her life such as healthy diets, medications. The longest a person has lived after a heart transplant, sir, has been thirty-three years, one man."
I place my hands on my hips. "You're telling me the best Mia can hope to live is... not even sixty?"
He shakes his head, looking surprised I'm asking. "Unless she is an exception or new drugs are produced to prolong the life of the organ. Having the transplant gave you more time with her, sir... but 50 years is unheard of. Fifty percent of transplant patients live ten years past the surgery date."
"Ten years?" I breathe, wide-eyed. "My son would only be eleven. Sir, I am sure you did not mention this."
"I did, sir. To Mia as well. You told me to do whatever I had to so she would live."
"B-but, that is... I don't-" I'm speechless. I release a breath of uncertainty. How the hell did I miss this?
"I'm sorry you are shocked, sir. Last night, you signed a form that detailed the specifics as well... I promise I intended you to go into this completely aware of all possibilities... A heart transplant gives the patient more time, not a lifetime. You can, of course, opt for a second transplant if the time should arise where Mia's health declines later in life but the survival rating of that is less."
I cannot swallow. "I thought we'd have a lifetime," I whisper, gutted. "I... thought this was the end of it."
He remains silent and I look up at him, clearing my throat. "That sounds foolish I know."
"It's not foolish to hope for the best, sir. Mia has proven multiple times that she can withstand the worst kind of pain and pull through. She may very well be that person that lasts thirty plus years."
She wouldn't even be sixty. Best case scenario, Mia will live to sixty. Her heart will fail her- once again. I think of the pain I saw her endure, realizing that she will have to endure it again.
I look down, finding it difficult to breathe.
"I- don't think Mia knows this either, doctor. She would have said something."
He clears his throat, uncomfortably. "I will speak with her, of course. Again, I'm- stunned, sir. I was sure you knew-"
I hold up my trembling hand. "She's- alive now, sir. That's what matters," I whisper, just wanting him to leave me. Thankfully, he does, looking extremely unsure of what to do.
My chest is expanding in a wild panic. Quickly, I begin to feel an unbearable constricting in my throat, blocking any air from getting in or out. I struggle to inhale and exhale as my body presses against the wall, descending slowly to the ground.
"Henry!" I hear Ivan holler by the end of the hallway. I hear loud, fast footsteps as I fall into unconsciousness.
...
The second my eyes open, I know I'm lying on a uncomfortable cot in Doctor Overton's office. It's very dark outside the windows. I sit up in a rush, gasping. It was morning when I spoke to Overton about Mia.
"Take it easy, sir," Overton says, from his desk. He stands, setting down his glasses. "You may experience some nausea from the sedative."
"You gave me a sedative?" I mutter, rubbing my face frustratingly.
"Yes, sir. You were in a panic when you awoke so I gave you one... I'm glad you got some hours of sleep in. You've had an unimaginable few weeks. It was a wonder you were still upright."
"Mia," I whisper, looking to the door in remembrance. "Is she alright?"
"Yes, she is fine. I did speak to her about- what we discussed in the hall."
"And how did she take it?" I ask, fearfully.
"She took it well. Mainly expressed being glad to be alive now."
I nod, looking down, feeling strangely infuriated. "You think me selfish then? That I'm angry?"
"Not at all, sir. Most patients as well their loved ones experience a vast range of emotions post-operation. Some undergo therapy from the trauma of it. You are right to hope for the longest possible life for your wife. You will find no judgment's with me, sir."
I cannot pinpoint how I feel after his words, but I know I want to get up. I stand, breathing in. "I- am going to see Mia and then, I think it's time I shower, get a proper meal before my brother's funeral in the morning. Will you watch her diligently?"
"We will have nurses around the clock, sir. Yes."
I nod, turning. I grab onto the door, pulling it open. Ivan is standing there and looks relieved when he sees me calm.
"Sir."
"Ivan," I utter, walking past him. I feel no need to re-hash or explain my panic attack. I walk to Mia's room, opening the door immediately. She turns her head my way as I shut the door gently behind me.
"Are you alright?" she asks, holding out her hand. I nod, walking to her. I take her hand, squeezing.
"I'm fine."
"Ivan's been worried."
"No need," I whisper, touching her hair. She smiles softly.
"There's... anger in your eyes," she says, after a moment. I breathe in, knowing I can hide nothing from her.
"What else do you see?"
"Confusion. Worry... Love. They're very expressive."
I kiss her hand, glad to feel it's warmth beneath my lips. "I must leave tonight. I need to speak with Parliament on the funeral for tomorrow."
She nods. "Of course. It's about time you got out of those clothes."
I nod, scrunching my nose. "I smell."
She tilts her head, smiling slightly. "... You truly haven't left in the entire time I've been here."
I stare at her. "I-I thought the worst was over, Mia."
She smiles, brightly. "It is, Henry. Overton said it. A man lived thirty years after his transplant. And we're in a entirely new day and age."
"Thirty years-"
"With you. With Alexander. That's a blessing, Henry. We... need to see it as a blessing."
I nod, raising her hand to my cheek. "I just wish I didn't have to be king... that we could live the way we've wanted to. That we could make the most of it."
She hums, looking far more positive than I. "We'll make it work, baby."
"Yes." I nod, breathing in. "Yes, we'll make it work."
...
I take Mia's hand as she stands, helping her to the wheelchair waiting. She's beaming with excitement, no doubt glad to be leaving this practice. I cannot blame her, I am glad to be leaving too. Two weeks since her surgery, we have now been moved into Buckingham Palace now, which is where we are headed.
Stoneham is still ours, which will be used as a vacation home and kept up with so that Mia's garden will not perish. She settles down into the chair, looking up at me.
"Ready?" I ask, referring to the reporters waiting on the road outside this practice. She nods, breathing in.
"As I'll ever be," sheanswers, then smiles. "Get me out of here."
...
We arrive to Buckingham early day and the gates are lined with onlookers. When we enter the gates, the staff is outside, lined up to welcome the new royal family. I look out the windows with a certain excitement, one I hadn't had before coming here.
But this time, there is no Nicole to force me tea. No Richard here to summon Henry at all times of the day for no particular reason. We are rather free now and the walls don't look as constricting as they once did. Maybe it's because the fear of losing your entire life makes simply still being in it worthwhile.
I kiss Alexander's head as the car slows at the large entrance way. Henry is beside me, rubbing my back gently. I climb out, holding Alexander and wait for Henry. He inhales, buttoning his suit jacket. I smile, having always loved the way he looks in suits. Now, he will wear one all the time.
The staff bows courteously as we pass into the large entrance way. I feel rather royal right now. It's an uncomfortable feeling, a weighty feeling. Mrs. Ike is standing at the edge of the stairs, now declared the Royal Housekeeper. Ivan is securely at Henry's back, now as an advisor. I'm sure he'll still wear a gun, but it's officially not his job to keep Henry from harm. No doubt, that will be an invisible part he'll add onto the job description. I am positive Ivan would take a bullet for Henry, without a thought.
Ida is beside Mrs. Ike. She has decided to remain in London, although she refuses to live in the palace. She said she would hate to have to be prim and proper all the time. Henry gifted her the apartment that used to be mine since it's vacant and collecting dust. Ivan told Henry that she screamed when she saw the closet. I wish I could have seen that moment.
They brought the wheelchair in and are carting it behind us. I would rather not sit for a very, very long time. I want to walk, I want to dance and swim. My body hasn't caught up with my mind yet though. I'm not really ready to do any of those things but soon.
Soon, I'll be able to live again.
...
My gaze focuses on the long crimson scar that descends down between my breasts all the way to my ribs, dominating my chest. The longer I stare at it, the more fear I feel, thinking of how my body probably looked pulled open.
It's an ugly scar. And as much as I am glad to have it, I know this is permanent and the body that I once had will forever be gone. I'm a bundle of scars. The one on my head from a man who is now dead. One from the caesarean when my boy was born. And now this, a scar from when my heart was removed and replaced with another.
The man who died just hours before his heart was placed into my chest cavity was only twenty. Only because of our connections was I able to figure out who it was, due to privacy laws... but I had to know. His name was Jayden Andrews. He was involved in a three-car accident but was declared brain-dead by the time he reached the hospital. He was from Liverpool.
And now, I have his heart. I don't feel any different. That was what I was most scared of. Waking up and feeling, acting like a different person. But I don't. I knew I'd feel sadness at the thought of Jayden's death but it's mainly a grateful kind of sadness.
The door opens to the suite then and I quickly pull up my nightgown so my chest is covered. Henry appears, grinning wide. He holds up a Chinese take-out bag and I smirk, turning at the vanity.
"In celebration of the first day you've been able to eat normal food, I come baring gifts. Your favorite. Beef and broccoli."
I stand up, walking over to him. He smiles wide as I step onto my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. I pull back and he chuckles.
"I approved this with the doctor too," he adds. "He said it's completely fine. So, I thought we'd lay this out and watch the telly until the wee hours."
"The telly?" I utter, amused. "Well, I'm definitely not going to turn that down."
...
My eyes are fixed on the ceiling. The hours have passed by slower than I would have liked. I can't seem to shut my eyes. Every time I do, I think I'll wake unable to breathe. I had nightmares at the hospital where that would happen. After living almost a year with faulty lungs and a faulty heart, I can't seem to forget the feeling. At least not yet.
I sit up slowly, placing my feet onto the ground. We're still in Henry's old quarters, as we'll never step foot into the King's chambers again. Not after what happened with Richard there. No remodel could make those walls any different.
Unable to sleep, I walk the length of our suite which is a bedroom connected to a large sitting room. There is also another room, which Alexander is in. It usually not custom to have a child in these quarters. They usually have a person assigned to watch Alexander- feed him, clothe him, bathe him.
That was the first thing we changed upon arrival. If we cannot raise him away from the palace, then I'm going to at least make sure he's close to me. I won't have someone else raise him. I've heard so much about that with the nobles, that they all had nannies and governesses to school and teach them. Alexander will go to school.
I take a seat at the window, looking out over the city lights. I find a strange calmness as I focus on the cars passing by the large gates. I hardly remember what it was like to simply go for a drive. To just stop at a gas station for ho-ho's or jam to the oldies. I've forgotten what it's like to be normal. To be ordinary, just another face on a sidewalk.
I'm Queen of England now... forever. I feel hands on my shoulders. I look up, finding Henry there. His strong fingers begin massaging my shoulder blades and I hum, smiling softly at the relief it brings to my tense bones.
"You feeling alright?" he asks, softly. I nod, looking up at him again.
"I'm fine. Can't sleep."
"For any particular reason?"
I don't answer his question, only close my eyes. "You have magic fingers."
He bends down behind me, kissing my shoulder. "I wish I could put them to good use right about now."
I smirk, rolling my eyes. Oh, how I wish... "The doctor said to wait a few more weeks to be safe."
"I know, I know," he says, chuckling. "What do you say to a bath? The heat might help you tire."
"This late?" I ask, reluctantly. I would rather him not see my brutal scar yet.
"Yes, just you and me," he says, warmly, grabbing my hand. "It's been a long time since I've held my wife."
I stand, slowly. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? You have the first council meeting in the morning."
He leads me towards the bedroom. "I'm not about to sleep while you sit up all night, Mia."
I tug with little resistance as we enter the bathroom. "Henry, I-I don't know."
He doesn't let go of my hand but does stop, looking curious. "What's wrong?"
I breathe in, gaping slightly. "Henry, I... my body is very changed from- from the last time you saw it."
He nods, slowly. "I understand that."
"I mean, it covers me- from here to here," I utter, showing the length of it on my chest with my hands.
"That doesn't matter to me."
"It's ugly, Henry. It's truly ugly."
"I- cannot say anything until I see it," he says, frowning. After a moment, he reaches out, grasping my nightgown on either side. His eyes flicker to mine. "May I?"
I nod, my stomach in knots. It's been weeks though and he's my husband. I cannot hide forever. He carefully gets it up over my head, making sure I do not stretch my arms out too far. When I'm left in just my panties, I realize I had no idea how truly uncomfortable I'd actually be. I feel his gaze on my chest, on the dominant patched-up gash.
"It is large," he says, quietly. "And painful. And permanent... and the reason you are alive, Mia, which makes it beautiful."
I chuckle, turning. "I appreciate you trying to downplay it."
"I am not trying to downplay it," he says, gallant as usual. I can usually expect no less from Henry. He clasps my arms, standing behind me. "That scar could be the entire length of your body, Mia and I'd still love it."
I look up, into the mirror. His gaze is firmly on me. I sigh, nodding. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful."
"You don't sound ungrateful. You sound like you're trying to deal with a life change, which you are. You have a new heart, a foreign object within you. That is going to take time to get used to."
"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," I murmur, smiling slightly. "... But thank you."
He presses his lips to my hair, closing his eyes. "Come, let's get in."
...
Tucked between Henry's long legs, my head pressed back against his chest, my eyes remain closed, contented in the closeness of our tangled limbs. He runs his warm foamy hands over my stomach, pressing his lips softly to my temple. He leaves his cheek there, sighing.
Our hands entwine in the water against my thigh. It has to be past 2 AM by now.
"Nicole is still in England," Henry says, disrupting the silence. My brows rise. I'd almost forgotten about her.
"Really?"
"She had her child today... A boy."
"I thought she was going to be sent to France?"
"She is. She's resisted since she's been close to her delivery date, remaining at Casterbury house. Now, she has no excuse. She has to leave."
I tilt my head. "She's not going to take that well."
"No, she's not. But I am going to see her tomorrow and whether or not she wants to help me, we will pack up whatever she's brought there and ship it off to the place of her choosing. I will not have her anywhere near Parliament. Or you and Alex."
"Surely, she's realized she's caused enough of a mess?"
"Nicole never believes anything is her fault. She will try her hardest to guilt me into allowing her to stay. She hasn't had a single visitor since the funeral, I've made sure of it... All we'd need is her going behind a camera, explaining how Richard was pushed out of his throne by me."
"You were forced to do that as well. You didn't have a choice."
"Yes, but the public would never think that through. They'd see the headlines and judge. As much as I disagreed with Richard, I would rather people not know of the intimate details- before his death."
I hadn't even thought of that. "Is there a way to keep her quiet?"
"Yes. Money and lands are rather convincing to someone who's used to a palace. They will be granted to her as long as she vows never to speak of anything that occurred inside the palace during her reign, a vow in writing of course. That way if she did speak, we'd be able to prosecute."
"What if she doesn't agree?" I breathe. "What if she says no and rejects the land?"
"She won't," is all he says before his lips caress my shoulder.