A/N: Oh, boy, do I have a lot of fics to write after last night's episode! Seriously, this is the first one I finished and I already have more ideas bouncing around in my head. This is how Eyal works with my creativity. I wish there had been even more of him, more in the present day, but him helping Annie in Israel was beautiful.
Takes place before the first scene with Eyal and then during the scene itself.
Disclaimer: Covert Affairs and the characters don't belong to me. Some of the dialogue is borrowed from the episode and also does not belong to me. Title is adapted from London Grammar's Wasting My Young Years.
Annie lies on the warm sand and thinks This is how I die. The pain in her chest hasn't gotten worse – but it hasn't gotten better either – and she tries to regulate her breaths but there doesn't seem to be enough air which is ridiculous because she is outside. Her limbs feel numb and she has no strength to try and stand up. The night sky looks down at her and she only manages to gaze at the stars and imagine a thousand lives she could've lived, all the people she has loved and does love, all the good-byes she never got to say.
It feels ironic, to die here on this beach when she knows that in the eyes of the world, she died a long time ago already. Annie Walker is dead but now she will finally die.
And yet, she doesn't. Slowly but surely the pain subsides into a throbbing, then into a small pulse in her chest and she breathes a little deeper again. Finally it's a mere echo of the pain she was struck down with and she stands up, feet a bit unsteady in the sand.
She knows that she can't do this alone, and she needs a doctor but she cannot let Langley know about this. A possible medical condition is not the easiest thing to keep a secret but she knows she has to. Just when she searches her mind for any way out, for any doctors who owe her favous, she is suddenly reminded of someone who, while not technically a doctor, has medical knowledge and would never turn her down.
When she makes it back to the house, still a bit tired and winded from the attack her body has suffered, she picks up her phone, questioning herself one last time. It would mean coming back from the dead, being a part of the world again. As much as she's enjoyed this past month alone, this is the one thing she has no escape from.
Before she can second-guess herself, she dials the number and listens to the ring tone.
One, two, three, four, five, six, se-
"Don't hang up, it's me."
She remembers Eyal's reluctance to answer his phone at all, let alone take calls from unknown numbers. The mere fact that he's even answered, gives her an inkling that maybe he's been waiting for this call as well.
"Neshema, what a lovely surprise."
The voice washes over her like honey, smooth and soft, and so perfectly soothing that she feels another ache in her chest; this one more like longing than a serious medical condition.
"Eyal. I hope I'm not interrupting."
"You? Never. They say the dead don't talk but apparently they do make phone calls." And he laughs, sounding a bit relieved and happy.
She responds with a laugh of her own, his good mood affecting her and she feels light as air, something she hasn't experienced in a very long time. No one's had the chance to banter with her, to hear her out, to care for her, and she craves for that intimacy again.
"It's good to hear from you too, Eyal."
"I hope you are calling to say you're taking up my offer to go sailing. Because the Flying Lavine is more than ready and willing, waiting patiently in Athens."
She smiles to herself, remembering how he confessed that he never even got out of Israel to go sailing, that Mossad's pull on him was too strong to actually take a vacation. Somehow, she has no doubt that if she were to actually take him up on this offer, he would take her sailing, just because she asked him to.
"That would be a lovely idea but that is not why I'm calling."
She can sense his mood change on the other side of the phone and his voice takes a more serious and attentive tone. "Are you in trouble?"
"Not the kind of trouble you're probably thinking of."
"Then what is on your mind?"
"Are you in Israel?"
"Sure."
"What's the weather like in Jerusalem? I'm feeling like a change of scenery."
There is a brief moment of silence and she wishes she could see his face, just to understand what must be going through his head in this moment.
"Annie, is there a reason for this?"
He is careful in his inquiry, not asking too many questions, wary of the limited security this line can offer them.
She sighs, not sure what, exactly, she could tell him that would not be a lie – because she does not lie to him – but also wouldn't force her to put all her cards on the table.
"I would just want to see you, to...talk. I have some things to discuss and you're a good listener."
"Call me when you land."
And just like that, she has an invitation and a way to move forward. She has a safe place to run to which is more than she could even ask for.
When she exits the airport in Jerusalem, it's almost exactly like two years ago, her first visit to this country. She remembers the completely different circumstances – namely, an international spy conspiracy, and Simon – but also the quiet nights, the ever-present humming in the air around them, the way Eyal made her feel so safe and so cared for. This time, it is a very different reason that brings her to Israel but when she sees him waiting for her, a sense of déja vu washes over her.
Especially since his sign once again says נשמה and this, more than anything makes her smile because this time it means so much more.
"Welcome to Israel, neshema. Everything is still better here."
The smile that falls on her face is more natural than she would think possible, given the circumstances, and yet, it doesn't feel out of place.
"Shall we see the sights or get some dinner first? I know an excellent restaurant, reserved only for my friends."
He is in a good mood, teasing and flirting, just like everything is normal but his eyes tell her that he is worried and not at all as care-free as he wants to seem. He seems intent to give this charade for her benefit – or for his own? – and a part of her wants to go along with this, just to be free of the dark shadows looming in her past, and the ones possibly awaiting her in the future. But if she had wanted to delude herself, she could've stayed on the beach.
"Could we maybe go somewhere to talk?"
She tries not to seem too anxious and worried, and says the words in a carefree manner but Eyal sees right through that. The smile doesn't quite vanish off his face but his eyes grow a lot more serious.
"Let me take your bag, Annie."
The house he takes her to is old and big and beautiful and she looks around with great interest. "Is this a safe house?"
He leads her in through the doors and she is in awe with the interior but still feels the warmth of his hand on her back as he leans closer. "This is my house."
Her face must show her absolute shock at that because he manages a little laugh. "What, you didn't think my house could be this clean?"
"I didn't expect you to take me to your actual home, Eyal. This is too much."
He turns towards her and something about his expression is tight and controlled and unfamiliar, if only for a second. "No, this is not nearly enough. Come on."
Eyal leads them to a smaller room and only then does he put down her bag and direct his full attention at her. "What is going on, Annie?"
She takes a deep breath. A part of her, the instinctive operative, wants to lie, to keep flirting with him, to distract herself from the reality of what might be happening. But she knows that this is the man she can trust with everything, the man she came to not only because she can't go anywhere else but because she actually wants to tell him everything.
So she does.
"I think I might be sick."
"Why?"
"A few nights ago, I went for a run. Just an average run, nothing different about it, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My chest was filled with pain and nothing else and I collapsed right there on the beach. I thought I was going to die."
She doesn't miss the way he flinches when she says die and realizes that he actually saw her dead, not breathing, just lying in a body bag. He was the one to bring her back to life but he was also the one who had to see her not breathing.
"And you can't go to the CIA with this because you're afraid what they'll do if there is something wrong with you. You came here because you think this has something to do with your death."
She startles because that thought hasn't crossed her mind, at least not consciously but the way he says it, completely matter-of-factly, makes her realize that this is exactly what she's afraid of. So she gives him a slight nod.
"Alright, neshema. Sit down, I'll be back in a few moments."
Of course, she doesn't sit when he disappears but walks around the room, taking in its splendor and grandeur. She has never given much thought to Eyal's real life because it's easier this way, if she doesn't imagine what he's like outside the Mossad. But everything that surrounds her makes her acutely aware of the fact that Eyal's family is wealthy.
He re-appears soon with a black medical bag, gestures her to actually sit down on the couch and takes the seat opposite her, situating himself carefully on the small table. The stethoscope he takes out still seems new and she unbuttons her shirt before he can tell her to do anything. He smirks for a second but doesn't comment before touching the stethoscope to her chest and the cold startles her for a second.
They're quiet for a few moments while she breathes steadily and he listens to her heart beating. She wonders idly that he would've made for a great physician; he is attentive and his presence soothing, and she finds herself enjoying the quietness of the moment.
Of course, it doesn't last long.
"Hmm."
The sound is both reassuring and disconcerting. He takes the stethoscope out of his ears and packs it up.
"Do you believe my mother wanted to throw out my old med school kit? Said I would never put my medical skills to use. If she could only see me now."
"You cannot tell your mother about this."
"Of course not, neshema." His hands find hers and he squeezes them lightly, as if to reassure her – or himself – that something like this would never happen, which they both already know anyway.
"So, that scar on your chest, is that from that Russian double?"
She looks down on herself, seeing the reminder of Lena's horrible double-dealing and Simon's death, forever etched into her skin. "Mm, yeah."
She knows that he is stalling, and this makes her worry because Eyal doesn't stall. He is always honest and to the point; this tactic means that something must be terribly wrong, and for all the parts of her that wish to postpone him telling her that, she just has to know.
"What do you think it is?" She hears the neediness in her own voice, and hates that small piece of fragility and vulnerability which escapes with the words but forces herself to look straight at him.
To her surprise, Eyal turns his gaze away. "I don't...know exactly." And finds her eyes again; his are upset and worried and so incredibly real. "But I know enough to know it's serious. I'd like to bring in a cardiologist."
His suggestion upsets her. Any outside interference would be out of the question. "A cardiologist?"
"Yes, my friend Avram. He did better than I did in Haifa."
The air leaves her but not because the pain is back, but because his words make everything almost too real. Something is wrong with her, her heart might have a defect, she might be defective. What if Langley finds out?
"Don't worry, he is trustworthy. Your secret is safe, neshema."
He has been calling her neshema more than he usually does which shows her that he, too, is at least somewhat fighting the possibility of what might be, and tries to sooth them both with the nickname once given in jest but now understood with the full meaning behind it.
She nods to indicate her consent and he makes a quick phone call. He must have some pull over his friend because it takes him no more than six minutes to convince Avram to do an off-the-books examination of a strange woman.
Eyal sits down again but next to her. "He should be here in about an hour."
"What if...what if something is really wrong? Like really wrong. What happens to me then?" Her voice is pained and she can't look at him for fear that whatever she'll see in his eyes will actually break her.
"Annie. We don't know anything yet."
"You went to med school. You listened to my heart. You called in a cardiologist! Don't tell me you know nothing!"
The anger explodes out of her but she's not really angry at him; she's angry at the world, at the impossible situation she has put herself in, at her own body for betraying her.
"Do you know why I didn't become a doctor?"
She gives him a quizzical glance at this rather bizarre turn of topic. "Because your sister died and you joined the Mossad."
"Yes, that. But also...I wasn't cut out to be a doctor. My fifth year in med school, my cousin Elijah got a stomach ache while we were in the mountains. I, being the soon-to-be-doctor, examined him and told his parents that it was nothing. When we got back to the city a full day later, he suddenly developed a high fever and when they took him to the hospital, it turned out to be appendicitis. I had almost cost him his life."
She stares at him in shock. "Eyal-"
"And I realized, I could never actually do this. What if I do this wrong? What if I cause someone pain when I tell them their loved one is fine but the same thing happens again? Or the opposite, which might be even worse. So no, Annie, I won't tell you what I think I know because you are too important to me and I could not forgive myself this time."
You are too important me. The words wash over her, soothing her frazzled nerves and all of the nervous energy suddenly leaves her and she feels tired.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just...scared, Eyal."
He looks at her and the same seemingly unattainable emotion is once again in his eyes. His hand curls around her shoulder in a comforting gesture and she gladly relaxes into it, falling against his side.
"Me too, neshema."
He draws her closer to himself and there, surrounded by his warmth and his scent, Annie lets the worries fall away, even if just for a moment, and she feels safe.
A/N: נשמה is the writing of neshema (I sure hope it is!).
Feedback is greatly appreciated.