Page 36 of Winds of War

At only thirty-eight, Ardan didn't consider retirement, at least not for the next two or even three decades. However, things changed a lot in the twenty-one years since he started to build The Base, and the sanctuary needed fresh blood, a new generation of leaders capable of evolving and adjusting to the changes at a faster pace than Ardan and his current team could.

Late at night, listening to Alasdair's even breath, an arm protectively wrapped around the redhead's sleeping form, the man decided to make the announcement about his successor the very next day. He, Fabian, and all those currently in charge of running the sanctuary would pass their experience down to the new leader and his collaborators. When we finally retire, The Base will continue to be in the best, most capable hands, Ardan said to himself, the thought lulling him to sleep.

************

“May I come in?” Arman Bedrossian cracked the door to The Base's boss office's open, tentatively peeking inside. “I saw the light on, and I thought to come and chat with you for a few minutes. If you are not busy, that is.”

“Good morning.” Sensing the other man's hesitation, Ardan gave him a friendly smile. ”Just the morning routine.” He gestured to the neatly stacked documents on his desk. “Thankfully, my twin brother Fergus takes care of almost all the bureaucratic stuff; otherwise, I would end up buried under a huge pile of paperwork. So, what brings you here?” Ardan relaxed into the armchair, ready to listen to whatever the other man was bringing to his attention.

“I've come to inform you that I'll be leaving for Chicago the day after tomorrow and to express my gratitude for helping me find my son and reuniting with him after all this time. I have no words to thank you enough for taking care of Evon and keeping him safe.” Bedrossian's eyes were shining with unshed tears as he fought the lump in his throat.

“I built The Base to offer the mistreated, abused, and neglected children a place they could call home, and although I'm deeply sorry for the unfortunate situation that forced your son to come to us, I'm happy we could help him.” The mix of pain and melancholy in Ardan's voice was replaced by affection when he continued. “I was getting used to seeing Evon as a part of my son Tarrin's entourage. I'm going to miss him dearly.”

“This is one of the things I want to talk to you about.” Aristarh's son cleared his throat. “I'm the only one who leaves. My son will stay in New York City with his supportive, caring friends, doting grandparents, and loving boyfriend. I was going to ask you to keep an eye on him from time to time. Also...”

“Do you have family here? You’ve never mentioned it before.” Ardan looked at the man in front of him, a little confused by the expression on his face as he slowly nodded. “Am I supposed to know them?”

“You and my father have a relationship based on mutual respect, trust, and even affection.” Arman's answer came in a gentle voice. “I'm Aristarh Golovkin's son, Branko.”

“The one everybody thought was dead?” Ardan's eyes widened as he incredulously stared at the other man. “Your poor father didn't leave a single stone unturned. He spent a lot of time and money searching for you, but all his efforts were in vain. You coming back is nothing short of a miracle.”

Ardan left his seat, went to the other side of the desk, and put his arms around Aristarh's son, hugging him the same way he did with his younger brothers, reflecting at how Fates chose him as an instrument in bringing the father, son, and grandson together. His heart sang joyously as he thanked the benevolent deities who decided to put an end to Aristarh's years of sorrow and heartbreak.

With Ardan's arms wrapped around him, Arman understood why his father spoke so highly about the one who built The Base from scratch. He respected and admired the man long before meeting and asking him for help, but in the light of everything Ardan MacNamara had done for his son, he was now almost worshiping him.

Slowly, Ardan unwrapped his arms from around Aristarh's son and, giving him a warm, affectionate smile, moved back behind the desk. Arman was about to restart the conversation when the door flew open and a very shaky Dehaan stepped inside, casting a disoriented look around.

“Fergus is very sick,” he started, tears flowing down his cheeks. “He's been like that for a while, and I told him to go see Alasdair, but he said it's normal, and I didn't insist. Ten minutes ago, I went to check on him, and he was lying on the floor in his office.”

“Did you call the clinic? When was the last time Fergus ate, and what? Was he acting differently than his usual self? Did you talk to Everly?” With each question he asked his twin brother's lover, Ardan became increasingly worried.

“Yes, Alasdair must have completed his examination by now. He told me to call you, but I thought to come here in person in case your phone was turned off. Xavier is there waiting for our Fergus to wake up and...Ardan, what if we'll lose him?”

“You won't,” Arman calmly spoke. “Not if he is half as strong as his brother here. May I accompany the two of you at the clinic?”

Ardan nodded, casting a grateful look in Aristarh'sson's direction, and fifteen minutes later, they were in the clinic's waiting room, encouraging a worried Xavier.

“Just in time,” Alasdair smirked, stepping out of the room where he’d transferred Fergus after examining him. “Your soulmate can see you.” he said as he turned to Xavier and Dehaan. “He's fine but should avoid stressful situations as much as possible.”

Dehaan and Xavier didn't wait for Alasdair to finish talking; hand in hand, they walked into the hospital room, greeted by Fergus's radiant smile. “Oh, how sweet,” he cooed, caressing his belly. “The daddies came to say hello to you, little one. Aren't they the sweetest ever?”

“Little one? As in...a baby? A tiny seed growing here?” Tears of joy shimmering in his eyes, Xavier headed to the bed and knelt next to it, caressing Fergus's belly. “Thank you for this wonderful gift, my love.” He devotedly kissed one of his partner's hands.

Without a word, Dehaan imitated his lover, and after spending a few minutes in comfortable silence, the three men started to talk, eyes shining with joy. It was one of those conversations parents-to-be have about arranging the nursery room, about baby clothes, stuffies, mobiles, cribs, and all the little things happiness is made of.

EPILOGUE

”G'morning, everyone,” Jeroen lazily said as he plopped down on one of the benches in the little park across from the school. “Do any of you guys have any idea why Uncle Ardan wants to see all of us at Remembrance Hall?”

“Pater didn't tell me or Tarrin anything”—Lorcan scratched the back of his head—“but I suspect it's something very special for him, giving the significance of the place.”

“Maybe Seamus will finally decide to ask for Nico's hand in marriage,” Jeroen murmured, putting his head on Gavin's shoulder. “I mean, what's the guy waiting for?”

“What about you, Whitey? Why don't you have a boyfriend at almost twenty-one? What are you waiting for?” Lochlin rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

“How do you know he doesn't have one?” Gavin's words, spoken in a flat voice, made Lochlin's jaw drop to the ground. “After all, you are Whitey's pesky younger stepbrother, not his father, so why should he report everything to you? Give him a break for a change.”

“Well, time is flying fast, so I suggest we move our cute little asses and go to the Remembrance Hall. You know how much Pater, Granddad, Grumpa, and all the others care about punctuality,” Tarrin intervened in an attempt to make the atmosphere less tense.

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