He stood on the deck of his boat, staring, longingly, at the sunset across the sparkling water. It was a fantastic evening, making this impromptu trip to his boat all the more worthwhile.
Being on the boat brought back memories of those first couple years that he spent after Mossad just living his life and enjoying the water. It had been almost five years to the day that he quit Mossad and sometimes it still felt like yesterday. It had also been about three years since he'd last heard from her; the reason he'd left Mossad and the reason he no longer spent much time on the boat.
What had made him visit The Flying Lavin on this particular evening, he didn't know. Maybe he was just feeling nostalgic. Maybe his subconscious was telling him it was time to let go.
The last time he'd even spent the night on the boat had been that rainy night three years ago.
He had been standing at the mirror in the small cabin tending his wounds. It had been a long day with too many close calls. He had gotten out of Mossad to get away from that kind of bullshit, yet there he was, rushing back into the game every time Annie showed up on his doorstep.
He should have said no this time. Really, he should have said no every time.
He dabbed alcohol on a nasty looking gash above his eyebrow and winced.
She should be out of the country by now, he thought. When they'd had to split up to get out of that warehouse, he'd worried until he'd received the message from her that she'd made it out safely as well.
He'd been checking the gash to see if it needed stiches when the muffled sounds of movement above startled him. He silently cursed himself for not paying better attention, but the falling rain had made it impossible to hear well. His gun lay on the counter next to the sink. He reached for it in the cramped space, wrapped his fingers around the butt, and aimed the barrel at the small opening into the night air.
"Annie," he breathed, taking in her rain drenched form. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on a plane?" He lowered his weapon and stepped aside allowing her descend the steps to get out of the rain.
"I should," she answered simply. She was wearing the same thing he'd last seen her in; tennis shoes, jeans, long sleeved black t-shirt, and denim jacket. Her hair and clothes were soaked, like she'd been out, wandering in the rain since it started nearly two hours before. " I wanted to say goodbye and… and thank you."
He shrugged and gave her a half smile as she turned to face him. "I told you, you can always call me for help."
She frowned, eying the cut above his eyebrow. He flinched when she reached her fingers toward his face. "Please, Eyal, let me help you," she pleaded. "You've fixed so many of my wounds, let me help you with yours."
He relented and let her prod him to the barstool next to the sink. As she turned to retrieve the first aid kit from the head, he caught her hand stopping her. "Wait," he said. "Your clothes. In the head, in one of the drawers, I have some extra clothes. There should be something dry in there that you can change into."
"Thank you," she whispered with a smile.
A few minutes later she padded back into the cabin wearing a dark blue long sleeved t-shirt of his that was much too big for her and a pair of his pajama bottoms; her tangled, damp hair spilling over her shoulders. In her hands she held his first aid kit.
He held his gaze on her face as she worked, cleaning the fresh blood from his eyebrow gash and fastening two butterfly bandages.
"What else?" she asked when she was finished.
He smiled and shook his head. "Nothing that you can help with. I think I may have bruised a rib, but that will be fine. Not the first rib I've bruised."
She frowned and pressed a hand to his ribcage causing him to wince. "Jesus, I'm sorry."
She quickly pulled her hand away, but in one swift move he caught it, pulling her hand back to him. "It's okay," he whispered, looking up into her hazel colored eyes. "It's really not that bad." Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. "Annie," he said, mesmerized and lifting his hand to cup her cheek. In that instant he was overcome with the urge to press his lips against hers and feel her fingers in his hair.
She tilted her head to meet her lips to his, kissing him softly, at first, then deeper filled with fire and desire. His hand, that held her wrist, snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands ran softly along his jaw and into his hair brushing lightly against the back of his neck. "Eyal," she whispered against his lips.
He pulled back, for just a moment, catching his breath and looking directly into her hazel eyes. "I love you, Annie."
She smiled at him with her most genuine smile and his heart swelled. "I love you," she answered.
He smiled, letting his delight show on his face. In a blink of an eye, they were pulling each other across the small room, each tugging on the others clothes. Standing at the edge of the bed, he pulled his own shirt off, needing to feel the flutter of her finger-tips as they moved over his body.
Her hands brushed across his abdomen and up to his chest causing him to shiver. She paused, though, at the scar in his left shoulder. "You remember," he said nuzzling her neck and finding his own hands tugging at the hem of her shirt.
"Of course," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "You could have died that night."
"And I might have, if it wasn't for you." He remembered that night vividly. His recklessness. His desire to be with her. And if she hadn't thrown herself at the gunman, that night, the bullet that pierced his shoulder would have surely pierced his heart instead.
His hands found their way under the loose fabric of her shirt, tracing and memorizing the soft, warm flesh of her body. He kissed her throat and grazed his lips along her neck, breathing deeply the scent of rainwater in her hair. "Neshama," he sighed against her skin.
She shivered and caught her breath. In those simple gestures, they both lost control.
He made love to her that rainy night; slow, simple, and filled with passion. Their bodies clinging to each other like it was the only way either of them could stay afloat.
He fell asleep, his arms wrapped around her, content in a way that he hadn't felt in quite a long time. She was his soul. The light to his darkness. Everything he needed.
But when woke in the dim light of the morning, she was gone. In her place was a chain with the little key that she'd worn for ages around her neck. He had asked her multiple times before what the key was for but she would only tell him it was the key to her heart. He could only guess that it had been something of Simon's since he'd never seen it before she came back from Russia.
Now, standing on the boat's deck, three years later, he pulled the key and chain from his pocket. It was a strange gift to leave and even with as much pain as it had been to keep it, he had. He'd worn the key around his own neck for a time, hoping that she would come back. He'd tried to reach out to her, but all his messages were left unanswered. She had told him she loved him and then disappeared.
His hand tightened around the small key. He should just throw it in the water; get rid of her memory forever. But he still couldn't bring himself to let it just go.
Taking a final drink of his Sazerac, he watched the sun fall below the horizon before retreating into the cabin to make another drink. He decided that tonight, he would be numb, spend one last night on The Flying Lavin, and then in the morning it would go up for sale.
It was time to let go of the memories it held.
His sleep was restless and light. Every small noise seemed to shake him awake. When he heard the quiet thud on the deck above, he almost ignored it, but then he heard the lighter noises of footfalls moving above. Frowning, he pulled the gun from one of the drawers next to the bed that he kept for emergencies.
He crept out from the bed to stand in the shadows across from cabin portal. He waited as the intruder silently slipped down the narrow ladder in a pool of darkness. Aiming the gun at the figure, he quickly flipped on the overhead light effectively blinding the intruder.
He gasped. "Annie?" he asked the women standing in front of him with wild blonde hair and scared eyes, clothes covered in dirt and torn in places.
"Eyal?" she asked shielding her eyes. "Oh, thank God," she breathed. "Eyal, I need your help."