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The Eiffel Tower will never turn its golden lights on again. Those streets have been cursed to live in eternal purgatory. Orchids lack color now. No more pink, not even a single butterfly shaped petal. Positano will remain as a frozen empire. All the photographs taken in Serbia became a memory lost in time. The way her hair used to shine under the sun. She was fire, passion and powerful red. Her cheerful voice still reverberates in the corridors of Prague Castle, which had been the perfect scenery to showcase her knowledge of history and politics. During their time there, he realized that cathedrals made her look ethereal. He walked through her brightest side as well as the consuming darkness inside her heart.
Nights had been electrifying in Marseilles. Just the two of them alone during those long stakeouts. Two strangers alone in a foreign country where nobody knew them, putting their lives in each other's hands. The tension had been present since the moment her emerald eyes met his cobalt blue ones for the first time. But that second night locked in the small, stuffy attic ignited the fire between them with such force that it could have heated the entire city.
Their flashbacks were suffering from a glitch. The Italian table lacked its diners. The red wine matching her hair and temperament was fading away. The lips that had once kissed her delicate manicured hands were missing their lover's presence. The London car also felt different. Why were them inverting roles? She had been the reason of his unconventional laughs. But her kisses became prohibitive stares and shut-up hands. The only remaining sensation was tension. Sexual as well as romantic. Their chemistry had always matched his coffee. Intense and lingering. The flashes from Paris were stars illuminating their somber nights in America. Bourbon was an acquired taste. So was her. And their love. Tea doesn't awake you like coffee just as whiskey doesn't affect you the same way than bourbon. She had such an unique effect too.
Eventually, the beautiful echoes of her laugh floating over Europe fell into a mortal silence. Those nations had dissapeared just to remain as the antique stage of their happiness. Blood had marked their route to another continent. They real selves had crossed paths with the characters of their spy story. The masks had been removed. And guilt weighed over them like dirt on a grave until they couldn't see light anymore.
He refused to paint those five letters on the wood. It would mark a closure when he was not willing to let the memories of her sink. Boats had always worked as a coping mechanism which meant he could always start over after flames consumed all the pieces of his last relationship. However, it had never come to a closed circle with her and he had kept their chapter's door unlocked long enough to write more pages six years later. Destiny made sure that the french waters were witnesses of a change in his symbolism. She had once stolen a boat to rescue him and it worked as a fitting metaphor for their love story. His heart had been commanded by her since the moment they met. She had repaired his heart's rudder, directing it to the warm light after decades of being underwater. He couldn't just burn it and build another.
The view was breathtaking. He wasn't talking about the Bay. He didn't referred to the european landscapes. Whatever place she graced with her presence, it was paradise to him. He knew her deepest core wasn't made of blinded material. It was fragile. And no matter how long passed, she was still his princess. His lover. His partner. A woman with Aphrodite's beauty and Athena's mind.
A reputation fallen from grace glided down the crystal catwalk during the last moments of her empire. Those agents who once believed in their first-ever queen, would avoid her emerald eyes as if she was Medusa. Walls said the power had gone to her head after she ran the favorite team off her revenge path. Her enemies and friends watched the redhead's reign end. She had to look at the reality in front of her and accept it.
The mistakes made along the way were coming after her. A funeral had brought them together again since the plane where their future had been handwritten in a letter. And another funeral tore them apart, leaving him a piece of paper with his name captured in ink.
Their Judgement Day arrived. Deckerd had been a collateral damage. Jenny was a sacrifice. And Jethro remained the last one standing. Svetlana had somehow achieved her purpose. She had meant to kill him and it would have been his wish all the same. Because his life had been cursed again. He was supposed to live without the second love of his life just as Svetlana had had to survive after Anatoly's death. Her intentions were to assassinate the entire team which ruined her life. However, there was a more ruthless punishment for his past crimes in European lands. When he heard the final shot, Gibbs knew that karma was making him pay for his sins while alive. Not even Dante's inferno could match his pain, Prometheus' eagle had founded it's new condemned and it would eat his heart daily.
Washington is going to burn. Like her house did. The flames will hide a secret of unconditional love and partnership. He was ready to die too. Life has been meaningless since she went to LA and never came back. Their story is going to remain in history as a classic greek tragedy. DC was supposed to be their happy ending. Instead, layers of stubbornness fell down mimicking the snow until it ended up burying their final chance.
They will always have Paris but Paris will never have them again.