empty: (adjective) containing nothing; not filled or occupied; lacking meaning or sincerity; having no value or purpose. Synonyms: meaningless, hollow, vacant, deserted, or abandoned.
Auggie Anderson had gone from a full life, to feeling completely, and utterly empty.
Part I
It had been almost six months since she died. The memories of their last few seconds together still replayed in his mind every minute like a song stuck on repeat. Except that it wasn't a song he heard in his memories, it was that last goodbye, the ding of elevator doors opening, and then the earth-shattering boom of shots being fired. The last thing he heard was an echoing thud as a body fell, and then all went down in silence, and he never saw her again.
The day after it happened, Joan called Auggie from her hospital. She was out at her own medical facility with problems during her pregnancy when she got the news. She had to be the one to tell him personally, and so she called him out of his office where he was doing anything but work, brought him to her hospital room where he looked like the walking dead, and finally told him she was gone.
His first stage of grief was denial. He didn't believe the news. He hadn't believe all the drones that had infiltrated the DPD about her death and he didn't want to believe Joan either. Annie Walker could not be dead. It was simply unimaginable. She could not have died like that and just left him to pick up the broken shards of his shattered life without her. He done anything and everything he could for her. He'd ruined his own life to help her. When they told him she was dead, he denied the possibility. This could not have all been for nothing. He'd never admitted to anyone before that being taken care of would not be the worst thing in life, yet he couldn't reciprocate the notion to the only person he admitted it to because she was dead, and he wouldn't accept the fact.
Six weeks after that call, her body arrived in a jar of ashes at the DPD. No stars were installed on their wall of heroes for a rogue agent, and no recognition was given to a fallen traitor. Only his tech personnel offered any reassurance behind closed doors, and the second stage of Auggie's grief was anger.
He was angry at Annie for charging into her own demise knowing full well she didn't have much of a hope of coming back to him. He was mad at Henry Wilcox while not being the one who physically pulled the trigger, being the one who forced her into the position she was in when she died. Finally, he was most angry at himself, for not being able to stop her before it was too late. He should have stopped her from going after Calder Michaels after Teo died and Henry Wilcox got away with murder to spend another day doing his devious deeds. He should have asked her to come home that day on the payphone when she was at the train station. He should have stopped her from following Teo when Arthur and Joan brought it up a few days earlier. He should have stopped her from pursuing Henry Wilcox after she unintentionally made a deal with the devil in exchange for DNA results with the FBI. He should have stopped her from ever going into Seth Newman's house to do their own investigating so she'd never be put into a position of requiring Henry Wilcox's services in the first place. He should have kept her safe, kept her home, and figured out another way to get back at Wilcox that didn't father these series of events that lead up to Annie Walker coming home in a jar of ashes. He should have told her the truth about how he needed her in his life a long time before the words were ever heard.
He loved her. He loved her so much and for so long already, the beginning of these feelings was a fuzzy grey area in his heart. Part of him thought he always loved her, at least a little bit. Yet, he waited until she was knocking on death's door to admit the fact fully, and that was what he was most angry about. He lost her, like he'd thought he'd lost his ex wife years ago, yet he was certain he loved Annie Walker more than he ever thought he loved Helen.
The third stage of grief, and the current stage Auggie Anderson waded through six months after Annie Walker's ashes returned to DC was depression, and unlike the dark curse that haunted him after he lost his sight, he didn't have any will to try and fight it off this time.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Auggie Anderson sat at his desk with a mountain of papers on his right, a bowl of USB drives on his left, and a cacophony of buzzing, beeping, and ringing equipment surrounding him. He couldn't see any of it, but at this point in his existence as he stared off blindly into an inexistent space in front of him, he didn't really hear or feel or taste or smell anything either. He simply existed in this nebulous of life, without a sole purpose or meaning or wish or dream, an empty shell counting off the days until someone would shoot him in his sleep or hit him as he crossed the road or drugged him when he wasn't paying attention. Anything to simply end the endless days of absence in his life. He was empty, alone, meaningless, abandoned.
"Auggie," someone called his name cautiously as a hand touched his shoulder. He did not even flinch at the touch or the sound.
"Auggie," Eric Barber repeated his name after not getting a response from his blind superior. "Joan's been trying to call you into her office all day. You need to go, man. I have to take you to her."
In complete silence, Auggie let his co-worker lead him to his superior's door. He was so silent and absent as he walked down those invisible halls, it was all a haze to him. Somewhere beside him, he knew Eric said something, probably words of encouragement, but Auggie didn't register them. He was pretty sure he heard voices as he passed countless desks and open doorways, but he was oblivious to them, lost in his own thoughts, lost in his own depression.
"Auggie," someone snapped finally pulling him from his painful thoughts. He blinked, once, twice, his mind whirring slightly as he tried to place himself. Was he still in the hall? Was he already at Joan's? Whose voice had just called him?
"Auggie," a female voice repeated. This time he could pinpoint its origin.
"Joan," he replied in a similar, falsified professional tone. He didn't have any emotion from her. He didn't even have words for her. He didn't feel like he had much of anything anymore.
"I hear you haven't been going to your mandated therapy."
Auggie remained silent. His body language was cold and unmoving, but his eyes, which Joan's vision was currently locked on was vacant and unmoved. It was like he was dead inside.
"You know that I would do what I can to support you Auggie, but this has grown into something out of my control." The poised, slightly older woman recited the words with an authority no one could question, but the look in her blue eyes, the look invisible to the blind man before her, gave away more emotion than anyone so high up in clandestine services would ever dare admit. "Its obvious," she paused as she swallowed back the difficult words. "That you have become nearly useless at the DPD."
"So you're firing me." They were the first four words other than her name that Joan had heard from the blind tech's mouth in almost a month, and those words seemed to cut through her like a hot iron.
"I think you should consider taking an extended leave of absence, Auggie." She breathed out heavily. The words had been spoken, her thoughts made clear and the deed was done.
"If you're going to fire me Joan, fire me," he spoke gruffly. Auggie began turning in his spot, oblivious to where in the room he even was as he prepared to take a step out. "Otherwise I'm getting back to wor…" he was halfway through the last syllable in the sentence when his legs suddenly collided with something hard and very heavy.
"You're not fit for duty in your current state. Not even desk duty."
"The hell I am," he argued gruffly as his hands scanned the object in his path. It felt like a dresser, or maybe an old wooden file cabinet, but he wasn't sure he even knew if either of those things were in Joan's office. Were they even in Joan's office?
"Do you even know what part of my office you are currently in, Auggie?" Auggie's reply was a gruff and mumbled remark. He sidestepped the obstruction before him and attempted to navigate the remainder of the way to the door, but came up to a flat wall and cursed loudly. Even if Joan's face remained unchanged, the scene in front of her pulled something inside of her chest with a painful twist. "You need to go home, Auggie. I'm giving you three weeks off to figure out if you want to take that leave of absence or not. If you come back then and are still in the same state, harsher actions will be taken. Do I make myself clear?"
He wanted to close his eyes, but it wouldn't have made a difference anyways. Eyelids did nothing to block out sound. He was just so tired of it all. He was tired of not hearing how Annie died nobly as in the case of all his past fallen colleagues. He was tired of any mention of her being blacklisted because she was a rogue operative who committed treason. He was tired of everyone's whispers and hushes around him, as if his blindness and heartbreak made him deaf too. He was tired of waiting, hoping, praying and dreaming that she'd show up at his door one day, or call him on his phone one morning, or wake up in his bed one evening. He was tired of waiting for some sign that something was amiss, and tired of never finding the answer. He was tired of having hope that went unanswered because she was dead and he couldn't accept the fact. Annie Walker is dead.
"Crystal," was his only reply.
Author's Note:
Part one of what I hope will be a 3-part fic. This will also be the shortest part since its more of an intro than anything else. I have many thanks to give including Epona3 aka LovetoLoveher80 for the encouragement to write this, and paixnouvelle for many spectacular ideas and plot bunnies.
As always, your feedback and reviews are great inspiration, so I'd love to read your thoughts.
-Liz
