"Why am I still here?" Sullen, ringing with intense emotional strain, Annie's voice carried in the all but empty halls of the Department. Were it not for the culmination of events prior, and the slightly ragged tone Annie spoke with, the question, paralleled with the current lack of human activity, would surely have made Auggie laugh. He knew she was sitting on the opposite side of the couch he had just recently occupied. He knew she was still in the same clothes she had been in when she had raced through the slippery streets of D.C., chased by an agency that had brought her on board foremost as bait. He knew her eyes, brown, she'd told him once, were probably red from the last, sleepless few days replaying themselves in her mind, like the lingering memories of a bad dream. He knew her shoulders were slouched in defeat; it was in her voice, the brush of her tattered work suit against the material of the couch, and the silence that was not the result of mutual contentment. He knew she wanted an answer. She was asking him, as she once did sitting on a bench in front of the company fountain, to tell her it was worth it. Was it?
"Why are you still here," he said softly, slowly, feeling the question on his tongue, feeling out its facets, its never-ending complexities. "Annie that is a question every single person in this building, hell in this agency has been or will be faced with at some point." He paused, thinking over his answer carefully, trying to separate himself from his own weariness so as to be able to give a true, unbiased answer. The air seemed heavy with the stale desperation, fear, laced with the still fresh pain and betrayal that was attempting to swallow the person who had become a source of brightness that offset his otherwise pitch-black world. "There are days we think the answer is to walk away, that the water is too deep, too muddy, and we can't see the bottom. We're afraid of how much deeper it can get. It tears people up, apart; it can strip people of their integrity and suck them right down into the fucking quicksand pit this place is. People who aren't strong enough will perish. But," Auggie now leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, positioning himself towards her, his gaze blindly searching for hers."It's the people who stop and ask themselves where the line has been crossed, that keep the integrity of this place in existence. It's the people who still feel dirty after manipulating and lying during countless cases that are able to stand against the temptations, and the misery of this damned place. They're the people who came to the CIA with a conviction to justice. You are one of those people. You could have gone rogue with Mercer, he's not really my type, but I can see the appeal," He was rewarded with a slightly choked giggle. He felt his chest clench, the bittersweet sound ripping through him. He needed to finish though, then, if she wanted, he was there to support her.
"You could have turned against the agency for what they did to you. You could have called it quits, but you didn't. You are sitting with a blind, former Special Operative, in the C.I.A., asking me to remind you why you're still here. You are still looking to find a way to hold onto the good that this place represents. You're still here because you are absolutely full of yourself," He smirked as she let out a tired snort."You are a hopeless romantic whether you'll admit it or not, by the way I know about the romance novel you keep hidden in an astronomy book cover in your desk. You're here because you are kick-ass, and as stubborn as a freakin' mule." It seemed that Annie's defenses had ultimately crumbled throughout his little speech. He felt the shift in weight on the couch, the rustle of fabric, then feverish, hitching breaths of air against his left shoulder as the warmth of Annie's exhausted body leaned into his side. She slung her arms around his upper torso, clutching herself to him as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Immediately Auggie brought his arms up and around her, leaning back against the couch cushions, cradling her upper body to his. With his left arm wrapped around her waist, his other arm encircled her small shoulders, his hand drifting up to softly stroke her knotted, messy locks of hair.
"This sucks," she choked into his vest thickly, and he could practically feel her straining to speak around the pent up emotion caught in her throat.
"Well. No need to spare my feelings, but I always thought I gave pretty good hugs..." He smiled sadly at her amused sob, and pressed his face against her hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. For a long moment they just sat there in the uninhabited lobby, Auggie acting as an anchor against the quicksand attempting to suck Annie under. Eventually Annie's breathing evened out, then slowed. He hated to have to interrupt her brief reprieve from the hell she had been living in for the last few days, but he knew from experience that being found asleep on the public lobby couch of the C.I.A. by your boss warranted a firm talking to.
"Annie," He murmured softly, rubbing his hand up and down her back, trying to rouse her from her sleep. "Annie, come on, it's time to get you home." He felt her stir against him, then stiffen suddenly, then finally relax with a weary sigh as she recognized her surroundings.
"Sorry," she mumbled, as he heard her scrub her eyes, and shift up and away from him into a sitting position. He let her go, but let his left hand slide to her forearm, and pat it reassuringly.
"You know it's no problem Annie. A beautiful woman asleep in my arms, I think it's safe to say that I, am a happy man." She laughed at that, and he smiled triumphantly. After a moment she let out a sigh, and he heard her digging in what he supposed were her coat pockets.
"What are you looking for?" He asked casually, leaning back into the seats slightly.
"My—ah, there it is—cell-phone, I'm gonna grab a hotel room for the night." He wasn't sure he liked that idea, especially after what had just occurred. She shouldn't be alone.
"You're not going home?" He murmured carefully. He heard her strained sigh, as she tried to think of what to answer his question with.
"I," She sighed again. "I can't. I don't have the will power to face my sister tonight. I'd just fall apart and then not be able to explain why." He knew that feeling well. He also knew that she shouldn't be left to dwell on it in the dark, resulting in another night without sleep.
"Nuh-uh. Sorry, but that's not going to work." He stood up at her momentary surprise, turning slightly towards her, and offered her a crooked arm and a charming grin. "I'm sorry ma'am but the only available hotel tonight is the Grande Anderson. All guests receive top-notch Anderson cooking and unlimited alcoholic beverages. With one phone call I will have your complimentary driver waiting outside for you." It was silent for a moment, but then he heard her rise from the couch, and her arm slowly looped with his. He could almost picture her soft smile. Something he didn't anticipate or imagine was the sudden press of her soft lips against his jaw. He felt a warmth blossom from that point, and was pretty sure that his blush was visible.
"Thank you, Auggie." She said softly, and turned, leading them both out of the department, out of the building, and out into the cool evening, the stars bright and clear above them.