Dave realized, in a single brief clear-headed moment after he heard the news, that he shouldn't have been surprised. Eitan had told him as much the first time they'd been together, the night the students had rallied again in Cairo. It had taken the heightened tension and emotions of the day to turn three months of circumstantial meetings, cautious flirting, and lingering glances into something concrete.

It had also taken a little wine, just enough to give Dave the courage he needed to hook a finger into one of Eitan's belt loops as they left the hotel restaurant. "Come back to my room?" he'd asked cautiously.

"With pleasure."

Dave's room was cool and dark, a respite from the chaos and heat outside. They were both covered in the acrid hint of tear gas and dirt, and Dave could still feel the adrenaline under his skin as he chased his fingers with his lips up Eitan's back, pausing once at the Star of David tattooed at the base of his spine, again at the red heart with Chava inscribed along one side on his shoulder, coming to rest finally on the winding path of Hebrew down the back of his left arm.

"Tell me," Dave said, tracing the outline of the unfamiliar characters. "What does it mean? Who's Chava?"

Eitan sighed and looked over his shoulder at Dave, his eyes heavy. "Ah, but I'm a man with secrets, my David. As are you, yes?"

Dave swallowed, and nodded against his will. "Yeah."

"Sometimes I think it's only the crazy students and men with secrets who end up in places like this."

"Maybe."

"If I tell you about my Chava, will you tell me about the boy who makes you so sad?"

Dave shook his head. "I can't. He's . . . he's my past."

Eitan reached up and brushed his thumb over Dave's jaw. "As Chava is mine. So we leave the past in the past and go forward, hm?"

Dave smiled shakily. "Sounds good."

"Why aren't you just using your digital?" Eitan shielded his eyes against the sun while Dave rifled in his backpack for a film canister.

"Because there's something really sexy about print photography. And this way I can shoot you in black and white." He held a hand up in triumph, the plastic canister clutched in his fist. He set his camera on a towel and opened it, careful to keep sand from getting in it or on the new film.

"Is there even anywhere in Athens to develop film?"

"Shut up." Dave snapped the camera closed and held it up to his eye. "Just lay there and look pretty," he teased.

"Fuck you," Eitan mumbled, but he posed for Dave anyway.

The outdoor market in Marrakesh was busy even late in the evening. Dave was careful not to touch Eitan, not to lean too close, but it was hard. They'd been apart for almost two months, their assignments never overlapping, and Dave was aching for contact. His shoulders twitched, and Eitan laughed, low and gentle.

"Easy, my David. We're almost to the hotel. Then you can have me however you want me."

"What if I want you to have me, tonight?" He let the words out in a rush. "Oh." He felt heat rising up his face, heat that wasn't caused by the heavy spices in his dinner. "I said that out loud."

Eitan slid close enough to jostle Dave gently with his shoulder. "I like that idea very much."

"I've always wanted to see Tel Aviv." Dave shifted against Eitan's body and adjusted the sheet that had fallen off his hip. The window was open, and the air tickling over his skin was cool.

Eitan clucked and shook his head against Dave's shoulder. "It's my city, of course I would love to show it to you. But it's not always easy for Americans to travel easily elsewhere once they have an Israeli entrance stamp on their passport. And you need to be able to travel freely, my David." He pressed his fingers over Dave's heart, and they left a tingling warmth behind. "It's what your heart needs, more than it needs to come to Israel."

Dave closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Am I fooling myself? Is this real, between us, or is it just a diversion?"

"It's real." Eitan wrapped an arm over Dave and pulled him close. "It's as real as anything can be, between men like us."

"Men like us, how?"

"Always running, always searching, chasing the story or the adrenaline or whatever will take us out of our own damn stupid heads." He pressed his forehead to Dave's. "Remember what I told you, our first night together?"

Dave nodded, felt Eitan's hair tickle his nose.

"We're men with secrets, my David. It's real, what we have, but we both know that it's not everything."

Dave blinked, shocked to feel tears in his eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say: it's not everything, but it's as close as I've ever come to it; I miss you when we're apart; I think I might be in love with you. But he swallowed the tears back and held his tongue about the state of his heart. Instead, he laced his fingers together with Eitan's and chose his next words carefully. "Where do you go next?"

Eitan squeezed his hand. "Home. Well. Israel, at least. The elections are next week, and then my nephew is getting married, and there's always the chance that things will heat up again, in Gaza. And where is your ticket to, my David?"

Dave smiled. His next trip was going to be a good one. "Johannesberg. The opening of the Mandela Freedom Museum."

"Mmmm. You're excited?"

"I was there, when he died. It was . . ." Dave trailed off, remembering the push of people in the streets, the celebration of Mandela's life. It had opened something inside of him, being a part of that moment. "It was a lot of things. I'm happy to be going back. And then, I'm not sure. Ken mentioned something yesterday about possibly South Sudan, but it's all up in the air."

Eitan grinned. "It is always like that, in our line of work. But we love it or we wouldn't do it. What do you think, shall we try to catch each other next month, then? We probably both have enough air miles for Paris?"

"I've never been to Paris," Dave admitted. He'd half been waiting to see it with Kurt, but somehow that didn't matter so much anymore.

"Then we shall go together. I would love to show it to you. Now," he leaned in and kissed Dave gently. "I don't have to leave for six more hours."

"Good." Dave kissed him back, and there was no more talk of work or travel.

It wasn't unusual, to go a month without talking. It was, as Eitan had said, the nature of their lives. It was also not unusual for plans to be delayed or changed with little to no warning. He didn't think about it, just spent two days in Berlin finishing up some work before hopping a plane to Paris.

On the second day, he started to worry. He would have panicked on the third day, except when he got down to the hotel lobby for breakfast Eitan's cameraman Ari was there, a crumpled envelope in his hand and a look of anguish on his face. Dave knew everything he needed to in that moment. Everything came crashing down, and all he could think was I need Kurt.