air from a speaker in the ceiling. She felt her muscles relax and the tension that had build up over the past few days ebb slightly. As she stepped under the warm water, her eyes returned to the open door. It was a sophomoric invitation, leaving the door open like that, and she knew she’d chastise herself for it in the morning, but she couldn’t help but wish Atticus would join her, if only to hold her.
As the room filled with steam, Andrea turned away from the door and let the water pour over her face, ignorant of the mechanical eye focusing in on her body from the ceiling above.
The cushy sofa did little to ease Atticus’s chaotic emotional state. His body grew heavy and tense as it came down from the adrenaline rush brought on by his encounter with Remus. Memories of happier times resurfaced from the photo Andrea had given him and shouted to be recognized. Plans for the confrontation with the creature dubbed Kronos scratched at his mind’s eye, eager to be seen. The death of Giona, still fresh, festered in his soul like an open wound. On top of all that, Andrea’s presence in the next room fought for his attention.
Somehow her presence cast a shadow over the dueling thoughts and emotions, and as he lay on the sofa, pretending to be asleep, his mind fixed most keenly on his old friend, now a woman. He could still feel her soft skin under his fingers as he felt first her ribs for signs of fracture, then her belly and sides for signs of hemorrhage. Finding none, he let his hands linger on her body for a few moments’ longer, gaining renewed energy and hope from her warmth.
Sensing motion, Atticus opened his eyes. He looked to the bed. Andrea had yet to return. The bathroom door remained wide open, and the sound of the waterfall shower falling onto the stone floor echoed out. She was in the shower. She’d left the door open.
He knew Andrea was naked in the shower, but he couldn’t see her. He knew he had feelings for her, resurfacing with her return to his life, and had no doubt she returned…something for him. She was there, after all. But was the open door merely carelessness after the trials of the night or was it truly what it appeared to be: an invitation?
Atticus sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He stood and paced. He walked toward the open bathroom door, but stopped at the mini-fridge. He popped an ice cube in his mouth, and returned to the sofa.
As the plush cushion absorbed him, he noticed the photo of himself, Maria, and Giona at the beach, still resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and allowed his eyes to trace the lines of his dead girls.
God, I miss them.
Andrea had risked her life to deliver the photo, somehow knowing that the sight of it might return some of his sanity. The woman was obviously insane.
Trevor groaned as the bathroom’s view clouded with steam, blocking his view of Andrea’s stellar body. He looked at Remus, whose smile had turned to a grimace. “You know, we’re really going to have to turn the water temperature down at some point. This is bloody ridiculous.”
Pursing his lips, Trevor sat up and leaned forward, never taking his eyes off the screen displaying an image of the steamy bathroom. “I think, perhaps, we misjudged Atticus’s attachment to the woman.”
“I bet he’s gay,” Remus said with a snort.
“Mmm. At any rate, it’s quite possible his rescue of her was merely an act of conscience. I swear to you, morality boggles my mind.”
Remus turned to him. “But you believe in God.”
“Indeed, I do. I just happen to disagree with Him. Besides, I’ve got O’Shea to wipe my slate clean. You know, you should really think about going to confession.”
Remus laughed. “No thanks. I’m looking forward to hell.”
“A prince among devils, is that it?” Trevor stood and stretched. “Ahh, well. Off to bed with you then. Tomorrow’s going to be quite the day. No use in spending the night trying to see through steam.” With that, he flicked a switch on the desk, and the wall of monitors went black.
Remus stood, scowling at the now-blank monitor where Andrea had only moments ago stood naked before their eyes.
“Having seen the fruit, you long to eat it that much more, eh?” Trevor asked with a smile, reading Remus’s one-track mind with ease.
Remus just nodded.
Trevor rubbed his back like a consoling father. “All in good time, dear Remus. All in good time.”
Andrea had just finished rinsing an exotic shampoo from her hair when a cool draft snapped her out of the South American jungle and back onto Trevor Manfred’s ship. She spun around and found a figure, concealed by steam, standing at the shower’s entrance.
“Who’s there?”
Andrea sighed with relief. It was Atticus.
It was Atticus!
A quiver filled her voice as she replied, unsure of whether or not she should cover her nakedness. “I…I don’t-”
“Did the Coast Guard send you? Are you here about the creature? To stop me?”
“No, Atti. I’m here for you.”
“Why did you bring the photo?”
“I promised your wife…Maria…in the photo. It’s stupid, but I promised her I’d take care of you.”
“You broke into my house?”
“You left it unlocked. Your brother-”
“You saw Conner? What…what did he say?”
“He knew you would go after it.” Andrea’s heart beat like a double bass in a heavy-metal anthem. She was shocked as the next words escaped her mouth. “He said it’s a rare woman who will drop everything and search the high seas for an old friend.”
Andrea felt a wave of heat rush through her body as a shadow moved toward her through the steam. She sighed with relief and a little bit of disappointment when she saw only Atticus’s hand, holding a towel. She took it, and stepped out of the water, wrapping herself up.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“No.” Andrea could feel her emotions rising as Atticus grew closer. “He said, ‘welcome back to the family.’”
With that, Atticus was through the steam, standing in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. She felt oddly comfortable in his presence.
“It’s been so long,” he said.
“I know.”
“How is it possible, then?”
“It’s not just me?”
Atticus slipped his hands around her waist and let them linger on the small of her back. She pulled him closer, and they stumbled back into the water, soaking both towel and clothes. Their bodies meshed together as rivulets of water cascaded down the valley where their bodies met. He pressed his lips against hers, letting them linger, his top lip on her lower. He pulled back and looked her in the eyes.
“I have to finish what I started here.”
“I know.”
“Then you won’t try to stop me?”
“No. I’ll help.”
Andrea fell into Atticus’s embrace, lost in her emotions, swept up in the moment, and for the first time in a long time, felt loved and alive. This was worth the risk, she thought. In that moment, she realized how empty her life had become since losing her Abigail. But somehow through chance of fate-or the will of God-they’d found each other; or rather, she’d found him-dead-and brought him back. Now he was returning the favor, bringing her back to life.
