The train gathered speed as it angled down the mountain, the gearing mechanism connecting the train to the hill at the steepest point. Annie saw the look of surprise on the face of a passenger on the other side of the car as a different sound began from just outside the window. Instinctively, she pulled Eyal down to the floor as the small helicopter they had noticed at the olive-oil processing facility abruptly came into view, its tiny cockpit filled with two men, one with an automatic weapon which began spitting out bullets. Eyal returned fire but the chopper was too close; Annie crawled along the floor until she could get to the door where they had entered the car and popped it open. Eyal had succeeded in winging the gunman, but the pilot was now raising his own gun, maneuvering the copter one-handed with the help of his knees. From her shoulder bag Annie pulled out the half-empty bottle of olive oil; if she could throw it just right so it landed on top of the rotor base, it could inflict enough damage to bring down the whirlybird, or the pilot might think the dark glass bottle was an explosive and veer away. She threw it and it hit home, sending the small chopper briefly at an angle, forcing it to clip a tree and crash into the hillside.

"You're right, olive oil is very versatile," she said, as Eyal pulled her back from the open door.

"I would say we got full value out of that bottle," Eyal agreed, then looked at his cell phone display. "Extraction set up for me at the bottom of the mountain as well," he whispered to her, his breath warm on her ear. "We'll be going in different directions. So this is goodbye." He took her hand and glanced around, making sure there were no additional small helicopters or other threats looming before kissing her gently. The other passengers were fortunately uninjured and beginning to get themselves up off the floor, giving the happy married but dangerous to know couple a wide berth. "This was certainly a close call," he said, and she knew from his tone he was not referring to their latest near-death experience together.

"Yes, it was." She choked out the words.

"One day, Annie."

"We'll get to pretend to be married for real?"

"Something like that. Do you know the poem "Ithaca"?"

She did; it was famous, and Eyal in his Cypriot Greek guise must know it well, but she shook her head, wanting to hear him explain it to her. "Something to do with Penelope patiently waiting on Ithaca for Odysseus to stop wandering?" she said, knowing it was wrong.

"Not quite. More like, traveling on in hope, and how it may be better than arriving too soon."

Annie shrugged slightly. "Maybe. Maybe, Eyal." She wasn't so sure. That fear of "too soon" she thought, at that moment, could turn too easily into "too late". She felt strands of the "wedding" entangling around her for a moment, and that one moment with him, on the bed. Was that really what she wanted, with him? Really? Away from the moment, she didn't know. She dug in her bag, pulled out a woven cloche hat, stuffed her hair into it, put on a sweater – hardly advanced disguise - even in wedding-friendly Santa Margarita few new brides wore their white dresses on the trip back down the mountain - but it might buy her a precious second at some point.

Eyal squeezed her hand for the last time and they both shifted into a higher state of readiness. A sign by the tracks announced they were just leaving Santa Margarita as the descent was complete; there were armed police and other authorities ready to flood into the car and ascend to Santa Margarita to investigate the explosion and attack on the train; Eyal and Annie got out immediately and scattered in opposite directions. Two men bent on pursuit focused on Eyal, but she heard a squeal of brakes and saw him lunge into a vehicle just as someone greeted her as "Agent Walker?" and took her by the shoulder, racing her away from the station into a waiting SUV. She settled into the seat, strapped herself in gratefully, happy to be alive and on her way to relative safety ; she concentrated on the feelings of relief, not the sense of longing and loss. She toyed with her ring; she'd have to remove that before returning to work. She doubted that it would show up on some report of misplaced equipment from Mossad, so his ploy of giving her a ring – if that was what he meant to do – had worked.

Back at Langley, the debrief was over; Annie had gone through the dry facts of the case and expected to be dismissed. But Joan didn't seem to be in any hurry. "So , overall, you were able to work well with Eyal Lavin. I know you had some concerns initially that he might take advantage of the situation."

"He turned out to be quite the gentleman this trip. No problems."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

"Joan, when you first assigned me to this case, you seemed kind of happy about it. I was wondering, was there a reason why?"

"Happy?" Joan shuffled some of the papers. "I don't recall that I was particularly happy about it, beyond it being somewhat flattering that an experienced Mossad agent was coming to me asking for one of my relatively new operatives and that we could fill an apparent gap for them with your excellent language skills. "

"Oh, I see." Annie deliberately said no more and wondered if Joan would fill that gap. Silence was powerful; Joan, apparently unaware of Annie's manipulation, resumed speaking.

"And, it's always nice to know that I'm sending you out in … you've had quite the time here, from the very first day. I've sent you into harm's way several times, and of course, given our work, I'm sure I will again. But I was glad, I think that's what you're responding to, glad to be sending you into the field again with Eyal. I know his skill set and I have a high degree of confidence that he will do whatever it takes to get you both through."

"So you trust him?"

"With quite a few caveats, yes, I do. "

"What kind of caveats, if I can ask?"

"That he's a Mossad agent and they will always have their own agenda, which they almost surely won't be fully sharing with us. That he can be extremely charming and make that seem extremely real. That he is an excellent liar and does it just for practice. Etcetera." The impeccably stacked papers in front of Joan got an extra pat. "Annie, there are some people you can trust never to take small change out of your desk drawer and there are some people you can trust with your life, as far as anyone can be trusted with that. All things being equal, you know they'll do everything in their power to make sure there's a good outcome for you. And Eyal I put in that category. Don't trust what he says, maybe don't even trust what he does, but look it all over at the end."

Annie left Joan's office and headed toward Auggie's area.

"Hm. A wounded Walker approacheth."

"Auggie, how can you possibly know that?"

"You're missing an "ety" from your usual clickety-clickety-clack."

"Very good. Bum ankle. I tripped in hiking shoes."

"Proof you have completely adapted to heels. Which is convenient, now that you are – presumably – a gay divorcee on the prowl for a new husband."

"Yep, I run through them pretty fast." Actually, she realized, unless the cover department was already on it, their cover identities were still happily married, probably forever, in the eyes of Santa Margarita. Contemplating that for an instant gave her a strange feeling that she didn't like. "Lining up candidates already. As a matter of fact, doing auditions at Allen's tonight."

"And with an injured ankle you can't run away so fast. Sounds like a perfect storm to me. See you there."

Author's Note: So there we are indeed. I hope you liked this! Please comment/review! And please visit my other stories, too! The "sequel" to Along Weekend in Santa Margarita is the mostly-fluffy Mermaid BeachThanks for everyone's support on my fanfic!