Time was not on our side, and too quickly the reunion was over. We walked to the waiting room, dazed and emotionally exhausted. Jared sat beside me on the sofa, and Claire took a chair adjacent to us.

Jared cleared his throat. “I’m going to apologize in advance, Claire. This is hard for me.”

“Déjà vu?” she said in understanding.

“Something like that,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

“You mean me,” I said softly.

Jared didn’t meet my eyes; he simply nodded as he stared at the floor. I had tried to imagine many times what he went through while waiting to hear whether I would live or die after the shoot out in the restaurant.

“I remember,” Claire said with a far-off look in her eyes. “Mom was there. Bex was stuck in Dubai with Amir.” She spoke low and slow, looking to Jared with weary eyes. “You sat on that horrible, fake leather chair until you couldn’t stand it, and then you paced the length of the room until we couldn’t stand it. It was harder to watch than when Daddy slipped away. Then Samuel came, and Eli….”

“They were there?” I asked, surprised.

Jared nodded. “They appeared after I called for Gabriel. I begged him to take me the second...I didn’t want to know what it would feel like when you were gone.”

“Would it be painful?” I asked, touching his arm.

Jared breathed a heavy sigh. “My father described it as weakness, growing so debilitating that eventually every system in our bodies stop.” He looked into my eyes. “We literally need our Taleh’s to breathe.”

Claire watched us for a moment before speaking. “I had to restrain Jared several times. He couldn’t stand the thought of you lying on a table without him, letting strangers—humans—try to save you. He wanted to force his way into the O.R. I’d never seen him so unreasonable.” Claire’s icy eyes melted when she looked at her brother. “Seeing Jared feel so helpless and desperate—Mom waiting to hear if she would lose you and her son—the collective pain in that room will be burned into my memory forever. Just like yesterday will.”

I grabbed her hand. “And I’m okay. Just like Ryan will be.”

Claire wore what used to be a white tank top, now more of a grey-brown, and khaki utility pants with heavy, lace-up boots. A blood-stained hijab sat bunched up in the chair next to her. Her moist eyes and smeared mascara had mixed with the desert sand, but only around her eyes.

“Did Ryan recognize you?” I asked.

Claire shook her head. “I should have pulled us out earlier. He looked up at me, but he was pretty out of it. And with the hijab…he could only see my eyes.”