Flashback-
...for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.
Nathan felt- heck, nearly tasted- each of those words as he spoke them sincerely, almost solemnly, to his wife to be. As his lively blue eyes met Elena's passionate hazel eyes, he wondered, in a moment of surprising morbidity for his wedding day, how many people besides him considered those words to be more than a mere rhetorical flourish. For him, death was a continual shadow that hounded his every move.
The storm-cloud like thought was gone in an instant, though, driven away by the winds of passionate devotion and evaporated in the intense sunlight of the freshly forged couple's love for each other. Elena was duly kissed and whisked across the threshold of their (admittedly shabby) apartment in the suburbs in Nate's strong arms. The next few months were all a glorious summer haze for Nate and Elena, and especially for Nate. He was, as Sully eloquently put it, as "giddy as an ex-nun on her first date". He and Nate agreed to cut back the scale of the jobs they were willing to accept while Nate got settled in, and the break was a welcome change of pace for some time. He spent many an evening laughing and relaxing with Elena, snuggled in the corner of their couch watching a late night tv show or visiting a nearby beach.
Eventually, though, the right customer came in, put the right amount of money on the table, and soon they were pushing the envelope back into the high-stakes kind of territory. It was shortly after this that Elena popped the question to Nate over dinner one night.
"So..." she began cautiously. "Do you think it might be time to get a- you know- normal job?"
Nate regarded her curiously. "Normal?" He spoke the word tentatively, as if trying it out for the first time.
"Yeah, you know." She looked at him encouragingly, but was met with an expression that made it clear he didn't know. "No treasure hunting. Or at least no getting shot at."
Nate opened his mouth, but at first no words came out. "Elena, honey," he spoke entreatingly, "It's all I've ever known."
"But there has to be something you could do that would be just a little safer!" Elena protested.
"Like what?" Nate asked, only somewhat challengingly. "My skill set's not exactly geared toward office work or anything."
"Well how about..." Elena's shoulders lifted, "I don't know, rock climbing guide?"
Nate raised an eyebrow. "Is that even a real job?"
"Underwater salvage?"
"Sounds boring as heck."
"A real archaeologist?" Elena said in exasperation. "Like the legal, non-getting-shot-at kind?"
Nate exhaled and frowned. "Elena, I do what I do because someone has to do it! Just think of all the things we've seen and discovered. Those 'legal' archaeologists are so bound up in beauracracy that they never would have gotten where we have in three lifetimes! Not to mention the psychopaths we've thwarted from taking over the world." Nate looked at her pleadingly. "'Lena, please. If I don't do this, so many things will remain lost- forever- and so many people could get hurt."
Elena sighed as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Why do you have to be so damn altruistic about it?" she said softly. "Does all that responsibility have to fall on you? You don't always have to-"
"Play the bloody hero?" he interjected.
Elena managed a faint smile. "Yeah."
Nate polished off his dinner and stood up, slugging her lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon," he chuckled. "You know you love me for it." Turning, he began to walk toward the kitchenette.
"Yeah, I do," she said begrudgingly. "It's just-"
Nate paused and looked back. "Just what?"
She hesitated. "Never mind," she said, smiling warmly at him. He grinned back and continued to the sink. What he didn't see as he turned away was a slight glistening in Elena's eyes. She blinked rapidly and wiped them with the back of her hand, then followed after her husband.
-End flashback
Gazing out the darkened window of the rental car Sully had obtained for them, Nate lifted his eyes from the country dirt roads and open fields of rural Crete to the glittering splendor of the night sky above. Amidst a heavy dusting of stars, a sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky near the constellation of Pisces, suspended like the curve of a shimmering, galactic fish hook, luring the waterborne celestial creatures in for the catch. Or maybe it's there to hang my sorry ass off of should this whole thing go belly-up, Nate mused. In his journal, he drew a sketch of a furious Elena storming off while he dangled by his belt loop from the point of a huge, gleaming fish hook and two large fish swam away scott-free.
Soon Sully slowed the car down and turned gently off the road and into the field. He pulled up behind a stand of trees, turned the lights off, and killed the engine. They would walk from here. In silence, the treasure hunting duo climbed out of the car. As the doors shut with a soft thud, Sully rumbled quietly, "Ya ready for this, kid?"
Nate turned to face his long time friend who was dressed for the job in a old black turtleneck and dark grey chinos, and he realized he had never seen Sully wear the turtleneck before. Most likely the item had been dug out of some dusty box in the attic just for the occasion. Nate himself was similarly dressed in a black quarter-zip sweatshirt and black jeans, and both of them wore black gloves.
"Yeah," Nate said in a low voice. "I'm ready."
For several minutes they walked down the side of the road in a silence that was mutually understood to be for the sake of stealth, and the only noise that could be heard was the chirping of insects and the quiet rustling of grass underfoot. The night was cool and damp, and supremely dark despite the generous smattering of stars overhead. Perfect for thinking, which Nate was taking full advantage of as he ran scenarios through his mind about what might happen if someone were to come down the road right then and see them. Eventually, though, the great Sully of the Silver Tongue could bear the silence no longer, and he muttered casually, "Kinda reminds me of the road to Aunt Fran's."
Out of idleness, more than genuine interest, Nate searched his memory banks for a Victor Sullivan story that matched the name. "Aunt Fran... Is she the aunt who showed up sloshed to that funeral and almost got the cops called?"
"Nah," Sully said. "Aunt Fran's the aunt who was dead at the funeral."
In the distance a frog croaked. "Oh," Nate said simply, "right."
A minute later they were at the iron gates that stood at the beginning of the quarter-mile long paved drive up to the villa. Ornately fashioned with with twisting metal vines snaking their way upwards to the spear-like points along the gates' curved top, they hinged off of large stone pillars on either side and cut an striking first impression of the property. Nate made quick work of scaling the iron bars and jumped down on the other side, his feet crunching on stray gravel from the road. Sully was close behind, and the two slinked away from the pavement to approach the villa more stealthily through an unmowed field. Doubled over in a half-crouch, they dashed toward the east side of the house, where the pool was, the long, damp grass swishing past their legs. There were no lights on in the villa except for a lamp standing in the middle of the rotary in front of the main entrance and another standing alongside a path that ran between the main house and a large outbuilding. Nate noticed the field of light cast by both swayed a little, and guessed they were probably bona-fide gas lights. He also noted a line of trees behind the outbuilding, and filed it away as possible cover for an emergency getaway. As they neared the pool, a dog barked somewhere, it's voice muffled either by virtue of distance or of being inside the house, they couldn't quite tell which.
Sully glanced at Nate. "That was no poodle," he said. "Let's hope we don't run into it."
"Eh," Nate said, feeling the outline of his concealed weapon. "I'm not too worried. If it comes for us, it's definitely gonna chase you, what with the lingering cigar smell. Doesn't take a bloodhound to follow the scent of those nasty things."
"Har, har," Sully chuckled insincerely.
The faint light of the gas lamps played on the water as they passed by the pool, it's surface a collage of shadows and rippling golden splotches. Silent as cats, the two men rounded the corner of the stucco-clad house and immediately pulled up short. Between them and the window they planned to enter through was a courtyard that they had not seen in any of the pictures Sully had procured. The round, flagstone-paved area was a good twenty feet across, and was home to a collection of statues of various Greek gods spaced around the circumference: Zeus, austere and imposing, scowled while a hulking and virile Heracles brandished a club in one hand and a lion's pelt in the other. Artemis clutched a bow in her strong and graceful arms, while fleet-footed Hermes smirked impishly. The one that most held Nate's attention, however, was the figure at the center of the courtyard. Stooped over, shoulders squared to carry the large sphere that sat upon them, Atlas gazed at him with the same mournful resignation etched on his stony features that Nate had seen in Delphi. He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he stared back at the titan, an eerie feeling of deja-vu washing over him. "Amazing," he murmured.
"I'll say," Sully agreed.
Nate's face scrunched into a questioning look. Sullivan's swift and hearty concurrence struck him a little odd- the man was hardly an art aficionado, unless he stood to make money from it. He turned to see Sully admiring a strikingly formed nude sculpture of Aphrodite and he backhanded him in the chest. "It's just a hunk of marble, Sullivan."
Looking a little put-off, Sully retorted, "Yeah? Tell it to that bearded guy you were ogling."
"I was NOT ogling."
"Okay, staring at..."
They arrived at the window and, after double-checking that they were at the right one, Nate quickly jimmied it open with his pocket knife, then the two of them slipped noiselessly inside like shadows in the night. As Nate vaulted the window sill to land softly inside the room his already acute senses focused to an even greater degree of razor-like sharpness, his eyes flicking back and forth to spy out threats, his ears perked to hear the tiniest sounds, his nose registering the scent of leather, wood polish, and vanilla-flavored tobacco. Satisfied at the lack of any immediate danger, Nate stood and turned on his pocket flashlight. He moved the beam of red light around the study, landing first on the generously sized oak desk and high-backed leather chair, then the globe sitting atop a round end table in the corner of the room. Next he played it across the rows of books that lined the walls in elegant walnut cases, and finally brought it to rest on a small safe that was built in to the wall in the middle of one of the shelves.
"That looks promising," Sully commented. Clicking on his own flashlight, he walked over to it and began to fiddle with the door, muttering to himself, "There's gotta be a way to crack this damn thing open..."
As Sully spun the combination dial this way and that, Nate grew restless and turned his light back to the desk. There was an empty coffee mug sitting on the corner and a few ink pens and a magnifying glass scattered across the surface, but it was by no means disorderly. The focus of the good doctor Adamos' last study session seemed to be a stack of papers that sat on the edge of the desk in front of the chair, with a small leather bound book on the top of the stack. The book was not unlike Nate's own journal.
Nate cocked an eyebrow. Could it be? Could it possibly be so simple? He ambled up to the desk and picked up the little book, opening it to the middle. Numbers and symbols and equations teemed over the page, broken up here and there by legible English in a floral but hastily scrawled script. His pulse quickened as he began to flip through the journal towards the front cover, speed scanning several pages as he went. The rest of the book was more solidly understandable sentences, with an occasional sketch or diagram. The words "alchymist" and "chymistry" stood out to him in several places. Arriving at the inside cover, he received his final confirmation in the form of a familiar name signed on the front page.
"Oh, for the luvva-" Sully muttered angrily as he gave up trying to guess combos and just jerked on the handle a couple times.
"Hey, Sully!" Nate called softly. "I don't think you need to bother." He held up the leather journal as his friend turned around.
Sully's eyes went wide as saucers and then his lips turned up into a sly grin. "No shit?" he said with wonder.
"I've got an autograph to prove it," Nate grinned. "
"Well," Sully said, taking the book and thumbing through a few pages. "Lady Luck rides with us. For once."
Nate chuckled. "Let's not count our chickens yet." Turning to the stack of papers that had been beneath the journal, he skimmed the top one and then lifted the corner to read the one below. It seemed to be Milos' notes. Lots of scribbled Greek and maps and phone numbers. He lifted the corner on the next sheet and his eyes went wide. With a sharp jerk he pulled the sheet from the middle of the stack and held it with both hands, staring at the hand drawn image of an astrolabe very much like the one he had just found in Delphi. His eyes scanned the pencil lines as well as the several notes scrawled on the side. It HAD to be it!
The sharp clack of canine claws on hard wood floor snapped Nate out of his thoughts. They could hear a dog walking outside the study, coming closer, and along with it there was the sound of a voice; someone was talking in a low tone as they led the animal through the house. "Time to scram," Sully said quietly.
Nate quickly put the paper back down on the desk and they both jumped out the open window and started running as quickly and quietly as they could manage. "Head for the building!" Nate hissed. "We'll follow the tree line out to the road!"
"You got it, kid," Sully rumbled back.
They bolted toward the outbuilding, crossing into the dangerously expository pool of light cast by the gas lamp along the way. Nate's heart pounded wildly. If they could just make it through this one vulnerable spot in the open, they'd be as good as gone once they got to the trees. Their feet crunched on gravel as they shot across the narrow path, the sound seeming like an air horn in the quietness of the night. Almost there, Nate thought to himself, piling on a little extra steam as he neared the edge of the field of light.
Suddenly a huge dog leaped out in front of them, its heavy body hitting the ground and sliding in the wet grass. Teeth bared and a low growl emanating from its throat, it cut them off just before they would have plunged back into the pitch darkness. Nate and Sully cautiously backed away from it, never taking their eyes off the menacing beast.
"Hey, little pup," Nate cooed nervously, "do you do tricks?"
"How do you say 'roll over' in Greek?" Sully muttered.
The sound of a shotgun being pumped behind them made them both freeze in their tracks. "Ah, crap," Nate said as they both slowly raised their hands.
"I would suggest that neither one of you move," spoke a man in a heavily accented voice, "or I will blow your-"
"Let it be, Atticus," interrupted another voice, obviously belonging to an older man. The man- probably Milos- then addressed Nate and Sully, "My mysterious friends! To what do I owe this visit?"
What do I say to that? Nathan wondered. Fortunately Atticus was feeling helpful that night and volunteered an answer. "Hand over the journal," the shotgun-wielding man growled.
Milos shushed him, then spoke in his calm and gentle manner, "Please, turn around. Both of you. I wish to see my guests."
The two thieves exchanged a glance, then slowly turned, keeping their hands in the air as they did, until they were looking at the two occupants of the villa, both of which were clearly fresh out of bed. Staring down the barrel of the shotgun, index finger bouncing restlessly on the trigger, was the man called Atticus. With a mop of jet black hair, tousled from sleep, a craggy face, and a brown leather jacket thrown over flannel pajamas, he glowered unflinchingly at them. Behind him stood Milos: small of stature, with wispy grey hair and a face that was creased like an autumn leaf, he sported a beige housecoat over his nightclothes. Upon seeing his late-night house guests, the good doctor's eyes immediately locked onto Nate's and noticeably widened. He motioned to his grounds keeper to lower his gun, which Atticus reluctantly did. "Gentlemen, I am Doctor Milos Adamos," he said softly.
Nate quickly formulated a snarky reply to the tune of "I'm the guy who just broke into your house", but when he opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by Milos again. "I know who you are, Mr. Drake," the old man then nodded at Sully, "Mr. Sullivan."
"Heh," Nate chuckled nervously, then added in a quiet aside, "It's normally not a good thing when someone tells me that they know who I am."
Turning to his grounds keeper, the aging Adamos declared, "I think it would be in order for us to have a talk with our guests, Atticus. Prepare the dining room." Then, turning to Nate and Sully, "Follow me, gentlemen."
The treasure hunting partners met eyes with each other, and Nate shrugged. As they followed awkwardly just behind the doctor, Sully leaned over and muttered in Nate's ear, "What the hell is happening? 'Prepare the dining room'? Is this guy some kind of cannibal?"
Nate frowned. "At this point, I'd say anything's possible."