The city was quiet. On the streets, the tourists were leaving the restaurants and theaters and retreating to their hotel rooms. Robert was avoiding returning to his. He was fleeing as quickly as his feet could carry him. There were a few drunks, stumbling their way up and down the street, but they mostly nodded their heads and minded their own business as he minded his. He felt grateful for a little human presence to fill the void.
Robert pulled the collar of his jacket closer together and blew his warm breath onto his hands to stave off the night's chill. He couldn't stay in the hotel dining room after she left. The image of her silhouetted in the doorway was burned into his mind. The vision made him feel as if he was suffocating. He needed air. He took deep breaths, and his lungs burned as the night air filled them, the temperature had dropped like a stone once the moon had risen. Robert cast his eyes up at the outline of the city buildings thinking how different it was from New York or Paris. There was a sound behind him, but it was only a pair of lovers, whispering and laughing to each other as they hurried towards their destination. Robert considered for a moment that he should be paying attention to any sign of enemies come to lure him away and take retribution. But there was none. He was alone. Utterly alone.
He turned around and looked at the Hotel Sacher; its windows and entrance were a flood of light. His eyes drifted upward. He could see a shadow moving to and fro in lamp light that illuminated the windows of their suite. Robert imagined Anna taking off her finery, brushing out her hair, attending to her wounds, massaging cream that smells like vanilla and honey onto her face and neck, and then moving towards her room clad in silk.
The windows were plunged into darkness. Her nighttime completed.
The things she said tonight echoed in his mind until he felt like he was going mad. They had never spoken of the past like this, though the conversation had been brewing, shadowing even their most sunlit and carefree days. And he let her walk away. He has nothing to say in defense of himself; if he were in court, he would plead the Fifth Amendment, for any answer would only further incriminate. Instead, he reflected on the conversation.
They love each other.
They are always together.
But they can't be together.
Robert felt fierce thoughts rise to the forefront of his mind, everything he wished he had said but had not: don't give up, don't back away now that we are finding out what this is. In Vienna, they were themselves again, not living in lies and half-truths, ironic considering their caper was one elaborate falsehood. Even so, feeling her touch again was so powerful that he remembered how she had captivated him all those years ago. But then he was struck by the gut-wrenching blow that Stille Nacht was an illusion, a manipulation of everything they had needed- an artificial balm for every pain, every scar that they bore, and every visceral memory of how they fell apart the first time. And at the end of it all, there was a fleeting hope that they could get it together this time. And yet, once again, they came up short.
Their time in Italy, it was a Golden Age. Who knows if they would ever find the answers for questions they had only just begun to ask.
Dammit! God damn it all to bloody hell!
Robert felt the anger rise and felt the urge to punch something to relieve the pressure. He fought to keep his feelings under control.
He could do this. He could. But he wasn't ready yet. He needed more time. He needed just one more time.
Robert raised his head and looked once more at the darkened windows. He had been locked in his own thoughts long enough that perhaps she drifted off to sleep by now. He rubbed his hands together and breathing warm air onto them in an attempt to bring feeling back into his fingertips and then retracing his steps back to the hotel. He headed for the elevator.
He found their rooms dark and quiet. Robert closed the door of the hotel room and headed straight for the bottle of Bordeaux that the concierge had left while they had been downstairs eating, dancing...and ripping their hearts from their chests. He wanted something infinitely stronger than wine to dull the ache, but beggars can't be choosers. He poured a glass and paused to savor the smell. Even in his agitated state, he could stop and appreciate a good vintage. Anna would like it he decided after the first swallow. With is glass in hand, Robert stood outside her door for what felt like an eternity before he shook his head with his brow furrowed. Then he took one more sip before setting the glass aside and retiring alone to his room.
There was no use pretending that sleep was going to show her mercy tonight.
Anna's eyes sprang open, and she lay in the silent darkness. She knew he was in his room. She had heard the jingle of the key in the door when he came in, but he must have retired quickly because there had been no other sound since.
Anna was not able to stay still, so she rose from the bed, and there was no sound of her footsteps as she left the room and strode across the living area, approaching his bedroom. Her feet stopped at the closed doorway, and she listened intently for sounds from within: for a sign of another presence in the space. She heard him, she heard his even breaths, deep and steady, as familiar as her own. She felt crestfallen. He was asleep, and she knew she should leave him that way. She retreated just as softly back to her door. Her hand reached out into the darkness inside the room; fingertips walk across the wall to the switch. The golden lights revealed the interior of her bedroom. The king-sized bed, designed for two but tonight, would be used only by one.
Anna straightened the covers and climbed into the bed. She pulled the blankets up and closed her eyes, praying that sleep would overtake her, and the soul-sick feeling that filled her would fade away. But as she lay, twisting and turning, her thoughts were filled with Robert. She could not clear their last kiss from her mind. She could still feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest as he kissed her; her scalp still prickled from his where his fingers held her head; she could smell his aftershave on her skin.
His mind sought the past. She thought of their first time together. He had been a gentle, guiding hand into a world that she pretended to be acquainted with but had not fully understood. That same hand slipped onto her finger, in secret, a golden promise of unwavering devotion and companionship. Sadly, what followed was a dangerous test of that devotion with a near-fatal end. And then, many years later, that warm hand reached for her again, pulling her out of the darkness of her own guilt.
Her first love.
Her first real friend, after childhood and career, filled with little stability.
She could not say what possessed her to do what she did next—maybe the heady rush of gratitude, perhaps, that he and she were alive and whole, or maybe seeing his raw vulnerability on display while they danced together tonight—but she found herself sliding out of bed to go to him.
Anna ignored the coolness in the air as she padded softly across the room. She turned the doorknob and pulled the door open before walking through.
She jumped in surprise when she unexpectedly walked right into his solid torso.
He was there standing in front of her. She hadn't anticipated him, and she was so started that her hand moved involuntarily over her wildly beating heart. He remained in place, gaze fixed on the slope of her bare shoulders, the gentle wave of her corn-silk soft hair. She cast a glance at him. Her brown eyes glittered like amber in the soft light; their eyes met. She held his stare. Held it. Held it...
Robert's voice was low and rough with emotion. "Anna, I know I have no right to ask you this. No, right at all. I know we have made our decision but...luv I need you, one more time. I can do this; we can do this. Just let me be with you one last time. Please..."
Time froze. She could walk away and close the door. He would not stop her. He would respect her decision.
Instead, she closed the distance between them.
She heard his swift intake of breath as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and then she lay her head against his shoulder and held him. They remained for several minutes like this, swaying side softly to side together. Then he lifted her chin with his hand so she would look at him and into his eyes.
She smiled back at Robert even as the tears began to fall, and without question, he folded her into his arms again. Those arms had always been open, his embrace warm and reassuring, and that was no different now. Regardless of the truth of how they fell apart, the fact remained that Robert Scorpio was, on the whole, a selfless and caring man. She knew what this request meant to him.
He wrapped his arms about her shoulders and pulled her close to his bare chest, stroking her hair gently, letting his fingertips communicate the tenderness he felt. She buried her head against his chest, and he could feel her relax. She always slipped seamlessly into his arms. "I said I would see you through this adventure," she said softly.
"It ends. But not tonight. Not yet."
The note of gruff desperation in that last sentence made her spine tingle, and she couldn't pull away. She understood. He hadn't counted on the fact that the last time they made love would be the final time. He turned his hand over, entwining their fingers carefully as she leaned closer, closer, closer. Her lips hovered millimeters from his. They shared the same breath of air. She remained still, testing the waters once more. Then slowly, slowly, she brushed her lips against his. Again. And again.
She pulled back, a smile on her lips. The warmth of his body was tangible; his wonderful hands plucked at her like a mandolin. God, if they never came this close again, if she turned him away now...she was damn sure it would be the single biggest regret of her entire existence. Not yet, just one more time. That was all they needed. Her resolve remained intact; her will as strong as diamonds, even as his lips left a blazing trail down the side of her face, her jaw, her neck. She yielded this time.
Fire blazed from his fingertips as they graze against her back; he paid close attention to her gasps as his lips touched her shoulder. He pressed his mouth to hers, burying his fingers in her hair, pulling her in at the small of her back as if he could merge them into one. Then she lost herself in the taste of him, in the feel of cool skin against warm, in the languid migration of loving hands across skin. The room ceased to exist; time ceased to exist.
She stepped back. Robert reached for her, but she was out of his grasp. Anna's bare feet crossed the cold floor, footsteps stopping beside the bed. His eyes met hers; she held his gaze. She refused to break eye contact as she climbed atop the bed. She crawled across the cool and empty sheets to the side she had grown accustomed to claiming as her own during their Stille Nacht and settled into them. She lifted her chin as she looked at him and smiled; that was all the invitation he needed.
He followed and settled next to her. She lay on her stomach and turned her head towards him, her hands pillowed under her chin. He bent deeply to kiss her, right hand pressing up against the small of her back, left hand cupping her chin, inching her lips to his. He brushed his lips against her chastely, once, twice. The third time she opened her mouth, inviting him inside. He looked at her until he couldn't restrain himself anymore "I need you," he said with a growl, flipping her over onto her back. She threw her arms around his neck, drawing him in. Desire washes over both of them like a wave; there is a longing to drown in one another, body and soul.
He was at her mercy; the feel of her hair the shape of her curves fitting against him — the way her hand pressed against his back, her encouraging lips. The way want and desire radiated from her. She burned through his nerves. All he wanted was her body against his. He burrowed into her neck with heated kisses- feeling the shape of her beneath his hands. Their movements slowed so they could savor each other. Being together this way was like witnessing the Leonid meteor storm, the sort of phenomenon you were lucky to see even once in your lifetime, and you might never see again. It was important to enjoy and cherish every moment.
Finally, their foreheads pressed together as their bodies joined. As they rocked together in perfect counterpoint, every move chanted an unspoken prayer, one that they know must be forsaken: stay stay stay.
When they stilled, sated and satisfied, Robert didn't want her to apologize; as if somehow she had enticed him to into her bed, or he had come to her with regret, but he could almost see the words forming on her lips. So he silenced them, kissing her until she realized that it was pointless even to try. So she lay against him, nestling her head on his chest. Clinging to him, she found herself on the edge of sleep. Robert could feel it too, pulling him into unconsciousness. The happy exhaustion, the lullaby of her breathing, the presence of her next to him. It was far too precious to last and echo of what they once had, but for this moment, she was his beloved, and she was his- it was enough.
They were ready now.