All of his permeating panic dissipated and the noise of the world fell away, reducing all that ever was or will be to the single moment and space where their lips touched. His hand drifted back up her smooth jaw, and hers to his ear. She pulled gently at his earlobe and he tilted his head to smear his lips against hers like a painter's brushstrokes.
Despite the cold water that chilled him to his bones, Max's soft lips warmed him, invited him, caressed him, held him. He suddenly felt so goddamned gorgeous and delicious and worthy.
He hadn't expected to have his first ever panic attack, especially not on mission. But god, was he grateful for Max in this moment. He realized he could have blown this whole thing, but she brought him down from the ledge. She could have punched him and left him there like they had originally planned, but she recognized what was happening and decided to help him. She cleared the fog in his mind, and with a start he realized he'd been kissing her for fifteen seconds already.
Backing off, the duo let their hands pull back from each other like the undertow of a wave; problem was, the tide brings a wave right back, and he wanted to go right back, too. "Sorry, I -"
Max shook her head. "You never have to apologize for that, and I want to ask you about it, but we have to go right now!"
They jumped up and blurred away from the launch ramp.
In the van on the way back to base, wardrobe and makeup worked on taking off Max's special effects injuries, and Alec sat quietly, pondering what he would say when they were alone again and she asked him about their kiss.
Did she kiss him, or did he kiss her? Or did she start it and he continued it? Did she kiss him to help break him out of his panic? And why was he panicked? And how did he let that kiss go on for so long? What did she mean when she said he never had to apologize for that? What was 'that?' His kiss? How would this affect the Cale mission?
He chanced a look to Max, whom, with every piece of fake skin they removed, looked more and more like herself, and more and more healthy. Seeing her whole, uninjured, brought a wash of relief over him.
Even though two people worked on removing her fake injuries, their arms and elbows floating around and in front of her, she was still able to find his hazel eyes in between. She gave him a small smile, a reassuring smile, and looked away with a blush.
A blush. Something he did was making her blush.
Other times, he may have convinced himself that the look on her face was manufactured for the mission at hand, that her Romeo classification and the fact that she aced that part of the MASVAB proved how amazing an actor, agent and asset she truly was.
Her stint as Eva to his Edward was phenomenal. She rolled with his improvisation at the gala, reacting to Edward's movements just as a real girlfriend-turned-fiancée would. Afterwards, she seemed to turn that character off like the closing doors of the elevator.
Then there was the Dorokov mission. He could die a thousand times over and never forget the way it sounded like she's called out his name and how real it seemed. But then she'd corrected her speech as if it was merely a stutter. It could have been a stutter - her character was a seventeen year old prostitute who hadn't yet had sex for the first time. Nerves could certainly abound in that scenario.
Then of course back to the Eilers' estate, where she returned as Eva and gave herself over to her performance on Teddy's desk. When Colleen interrupted, he still could not tell if she had been acting or how far she was prepared to take it, and it really gnawed at him that he just couldn't read her for sure.
Except for today. Today, in the din of the van, she gave him a grin that suggested she at least had some kind of positive feelings about him.
He tried not to smile, but when he felt the corners of his mouth start to tug up, he turned his face toward the window.
"Will Cale believe it?" the Director implored.
"For his sake, I hope so," Alec responded, leaning forward in his chair.
Once back from the harbor, the plan was for Max and Alec to check in with Lydecker before going to finally get some shut eye and decompress. The Director played back the footage from the news reel, and Alec watched with bated breath as the the male spy on screen performed CPR on his female counterpart. He knew their kiss was coming up; what he didn't know was whether the news footage caught it or if they had already stopped filming. Mentally, he had sort of checked out right around then.
Max was tense, too. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her whole body was still.
But the footage cut out just before his panic attack, and he thanked whatever higher power might exist that the Director did not see him kissing his agent. He really did not want to see the psychologists or have his reputation sullied by his unprofessional behavior.
Before Lydecker could ask any more questions or debrief any further, his phone rang shrilly. He answered, "Yes?"
They could hear the person on the other end of the line identify themselves and ask Lydecker to come by the shipping bay.We think you'd better see this.
Lydecker dismissed them for some rest and sustenance, after which Alec was supposed to ready Max for the next mission. They knew they'd have to wait to find out what weapons were in the container. The Director would tell them after the weapons were inventoried and traced, and they'd read the report once it became available.
As they walked toward their barracks, many of their comrades and friends passed in the halls, themselves just waking up and getting ready for their classes or missions.
Alec was glad of the quiet. He wasn't ready to talk about his panic-kissing, and he doubted Max would bring it up with so many pairs of enhanced ears nearby.
Max said nothing as they walked, and was no longer blushing. A cold debriefing does that, he thought, and she continued to stare forward. For all he knew, she could have been doing complicated calculus in her head. When they reached her small room, she stopped in front of her door.
"What time do we meet up to discuss the next mission?" She asked quietly.
He suspected she felt as tired as he must have looked. He knew she didn't sleep as much as some of the other X-series, but she looked ready for a long nap. "How about lunch at 1?" Five hours should be adequate.
Relieved, Max said, "Sure. See you then."
"Okay."
She slipped into her room and shut the door behind her.
Alec's room wasn't very far from Max's, and when he got there, he laid down and stared into the ceiling, aged eggshell paint yellowed from years' wear. He knew there were dozens of little painted-over cracks and pock marks; he'd counted them. He traced the marks and patterns, thinking about Rachel and Max. He fell asleep within minutes.
He knew he was dreaming, because Rachel was sitting there, long dark hair cascading down her back in waves, staring over her left shoulder at him with those mesmerizing green eyes. He both loved and loathed remembering her this way. This was the last time he saw her alive.
She was wearing that emerald sequined dress from the Kaleidoscope mission in London, the backless one that had seemed to flow over her body like a shiny green river. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but like water in the river, he'd known that she would slide right through his fingers without so much as a droplet as proof she had been there.
"So how do I look?" It was the same inflection she'd used when she asked the question during the actual mission.
He swallowed and heard his own voice call out. "Like the gleaming emerald city of Oz," he responded. Her eyes twinkled like some kind of mossy far-off star and she smiled. "Like a forested dream in the horizon. Like maybe I'll get to you one day."
It was the most he'd ever let on that he really liked her, despite her brashness and headstrong mentality. He'd felt foolish for admitting even that, because she was always just messing around. And she'd always done that - had some fun wordplay with the guys around her, flirting constantly.
But this time, she stood and glided over to where Alec had been standing, stretched up to him, and kissed him.
He remembered exactly how it felt: like an oasis was gleaming just beyond his desert lips, like a lush mirage. He'd barely had any presence of mind to lean into it, and just as their lips parted to deepen the kiss, they were interrupted.
Except in this dream, when he pulled away, it wasn't Rachel anymore. It was Max.