The light streaming in wakes me early, and I groan when I glance at the bedside clock to find it's somewhere in the early minutes of 7:00 AM. I roll over to find him sleeping soundly, cocooned in the blankets, breathing deeply. He looks peaceful right now, and I wonder if everything that we said last night, everything that transpired, will translate to today.

He stirs under my gaze, and I smile to myself when he murmurs my name. He's always said it so sweetly, almost reverently, and this morning before he's even fully awake is no different. He reaches out for me, and I let him pull me closer. Our past is, in my opinion, just that, in the past. Neither of us were to blame, and yet it was both of our faults. I'm not the type of person to hold grudges or place the blame unfoundedly.

So, when he opens his eyes and smiles at me, I melt a little in his arms and feel a bit like that undergrad heading off to Africa with him in my corner. "Good morning." His gaze lingers on my face, and I soak him in: sparkling eyes, three days' worth of stubble on his cheeks, and rumpled hair reaching in every direction.

Breathing him in, I run my fingertips over the tattoo emblazoned across his heart, sighing deeply. "That's an awfully big sigh for"—he jerks up a little to look over my shoulder before flinging himself back down to face me—"7:22 in the morning. What's going on, Croft?"

"Do you think Indy and Marion were meant to be? Or were they just a convenient plot device?"

He angles away from me, the bewildered look on his face almost making me laugh. "Are you high, Claire? Have I missed some wake and bake, early morning toking?"

"Not since my twenties," I swear with a laugh.

"Then why are you asking me about fictional characters? Is this about last night? About us?" When I don't answer, he nods, propping his head up on his hand. "Indy and Marion aren't real people. Spielberg wanted Karen Allen to be in Temple of Doom, but Lucas wanted Indy to have a different love interest every time. Did they eventually end up together? Yes. What does that have to do with anything?" His eyes go a little wide, and he sounds completely exasperated. I expected nothing less.

"I'm only bringing them up because they got together on their big adventure. They had a past, were thrown together, and realized they still had feelings for each other all by the time the final credits rolled. It's just … convenient."

"We're doctors—"

"I know who I am. I know who you are," I cut him off, placing my fingers over his lips, smiling gently. "Let me rephrase this. I don't want this to happen because we're caught up in this exciting moment. I want something real … and this, Atlantis might not be it. I've always been resigned to that fact, but in this moment, when we feel like we could be so close to something, I —"

"You don't want to lose your head or your heart to something else and have it slip between your fingers?" He nods, understanding finally what I'm trying to get at. Yet again, he's understood me like no one else. "I can't promise that we'll find it; Atlantis, that is … but this"—he sits up, placing his hand over my heart—"We found this, and it's as real as we make it."

Murmuring his name, I pull him down to me, pressing my lips to his. "I want it to be real, Jones. I really do."

He laughs into my skin, his barely there beard tickling me before he looks into my eyes. "Then, why don't we play hooky for the day? We've never been in a foreign country for pleasure."

"I think it was all pleasure last night." I roll my eyes, jumping off the bed and waltzing to the bathroom.

"You know what I mean, Doc!"

Peeking my head out of the bathroom door, I smile. "Okay, but if we get any news, the fun is over, mister."

"Yes, ma'am." He salutes, flinging the covers back and rushing into the bathroom after me. I squeal as he drags me into the shower, turning the water on and drenching us in cold water. "I can think of better ways to wake up, but I want to get the day started."

We dress for comfort, heat, and sun, making our way onto the street below. Without having much of a plan, we seek out breakfast first because I won't make it very far without coffee running through my system. "I thought we could just stroll down the waterfront. There are shops, cafes, and street vendors. It'll be fun."

And it is. We spend the day eating too much food, pretending to buy souvenirs, and taking a million pictures with each other on our phones. I've never taken a true vacation, relying on days off from dig sites to explore other countries, but this is nice, different.

Being with him is always special, but as he slings an arm over my shoulders, it feels like a treat I don't want to forget. When the sun starts to sink beyond the water, he pulls me closer as we make our way back to the hotel. I've been quiet for the better part of the last couple hours, and I can tell he senses I'm lost in my own thoughts.

"This was a great day, Indy. What's wrong?" He's looking into my eyes as we ride the elevator to our floor.

"I'm just thinking about when we'll get the call to go out on the boat." I chew on my thumbnail, trying not to whine. "When do you think you'll hear from Jessica?"

The doors open, and he leads us to our room, opening the door before answering. "Probably about four hours ago when she called."

He kicks out of his shoes and flops onto the bed as I stare at him agape. Grabbing a pillow, I start hitting him, punctuating every word. "You jerk! You didn't tell me!"

He laughs and pulls me down. "I knew if I did, you'd cut the day short, and we can't go out for another two days. Jessica is getting everything set up, but she needs to make sure everything is up to snuff."

"Oh, what are we going to do for two more days?"

"We'll think of something." He winks, pulling me down to him.

When we meet Dr. Stanley two days later down at the marina, I'm anxious to start the day. It's before sunrise when she ushers us onto the boat and takes off for unknown waters, at least to me. Jessica's captain is named Mike, and after a quick greeting and safety brief, he's navigating us in the dark, past early morning fishing boats and into open water.

I'm below deck with Jessica, studying her charts when she asks what I expect to find.

"I'm not expecting anything, to be totally honest." I take a drink from the coffee she's poured for me. "But I'm hoping for some more answers or leads."

"What's he hoping for?" She gestures above our heads, and I smile knowingly.

"He wants all the answers to all the mysteries of the world." I laugh. "You know how he is."

"Actually, I don't know him that well. He came to my facility the first year I was there as a consultant. I didn't spend much time with my colleagues that year because I was also planning my wedding." She sits across from me at the tiny built-in table. "A day before the ceremony, our officiant broke his leg and needed surgery, and we were stuck in a lurch."

"Let me guess? The good doctor swooped in and saved the day?" I lean back, smiling.

"Yes, and while many people wouldn't risk their academic reputation based on that alone, I will because he took a risk performing our ceremony. I'm grateful for that." She glances down at her simple wedding band.

"How long have you and your wife been married?"

"Fifteen years this June," she answers before reaching for her coffee cup.

"You warned us that you would get us to the boat. Why are you still here?" I polish off my own coffee and check my watch. We're going at least thirty knots at this point; it won't take us too long to reach Terceira Island, let alone plot the coordinates off the coast.

"You won't be alone on the dive. Lt. Coelho is bringing a small team with her; she's probably already there," Jessica tells me, and I can see how uneasy she is.

"She's worried we're going to find something they missed." It's a murmured thought, but Jessica latches on.

"More like she's worried the United States is going to try to claim it."

I stand up, moving toward the small set of stairs. "You know I have to tell him, right?"

"No, I'll do it. Then you can enjoy the sunrise over the water. It's beautiful; you shouldn't miss it." She offers me a small smile and heads up ahead of me.

Two hours later, we're donned in wetsuits and getting a crash course in SCUBA basics from a surprisingly pleasant Lt. Coelho and her small, three-person team. She's reviewing hand signals with me as her team checks the tanks on their craft.

"Can I apologize for any misunderstanding the other day?" I'm trying to be polite, kind even. It doesn't go unnoticed.

"I should also apologize. I was reminded that I can be"—her hand flails around—"antagonistic, at times."

I extend my hand to hers, and she pauses only briefly before she shakes it. "I'm grateful you're here with us. I'm only interested in furthering my knowledge base."

She jerks one eyebrow up in surprise. "That's all?"

"That's all." I hold up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"I know the term, but we don't have anything like that here. I don't believe in Atlantis; this is all a fool's errand to me, but … I'd like to know what you find."

Mike lets us know that our tanks are good to go, and I watch as Jessica sets up on deck to survey our progress. "You have an hour; I'll be on mic with you all." Her gaze sweeps over all of us before we follow the frogmen into the water.

Being underwater is like nothing I can describe; the weightlessness and freedom I have, even under all the bulky equipment is so freeing. I take a few moments to acclimate to the water and depth and follow the team as they lead us the thirty meters to the site.

Before us sits over 8,000 square meters of an almost perfectly square structure that's as tall as a twenty-story building. I make a mental note to remind him about Cedar Point, chuckling to myself, before Lt. Coelho beckons me to follow her.

She shows us markings they've discovered and documented, and as he takes pictures, I drift around the base, looking for anything else. We break the surface three times, one of those times for a quick lunch where the lieutenant tells me to call her Tia. By the last dive, I'm sure we won't find anything.

Until my name is called over the radio. "Indy, you're gonna want to see this." Tia and I make our way to Jones and the frogmen to peer at what his light has found. Wedged into a crevice, forty feet up from the base, is a gear.

"That's a gear," I say dumbly. I take several pictures, and Tia's team gently pushes us away to procure the collection. Jones drags me and Tia up to the surface, and when I rip the valve out of my mouth to question him, Tia beats me to it.

"You think … Antikythera." She spits seawater out of her mouth. "It's over two thousand miles away!"

He pulls himself up onto the boat, then offers me a hand. "I'm not saying anything. But I bet you won't be able to identify the metal that gear is made from."

Tia climbs up after and stares at the two of us as I strip out of the tank. "You're not really saying what I think you're saying, are you?"

"If that isn't an unidentifiable metal, and you don't believe it's orichalcum, I'll eat this wet suit," Jones deadpans while eyeing me.

"Salve santa mãe," Tia mutters under her breath, but I cross myself anyway.

"Hey, Jess? You don't know any metallurgists, do you?"

"What the fuck is that?" she asks as he and I share a look. It seems no matter what, we get more questions than we do answers.

* Salve santa mãe- hail holy mother in Portuguese.