Title: L'amour est aveugle
Author: Night of the Land
Category: Covert Affairs
Rating: K+
Summary: He was very glad that he could not see, for the first time since that fateful day, because he did not want to see the mangled mess he knew he was.
A/N: Hiya, guys! So I know, I know, this is not my usual work, and it's not an update for any of my other stories, but this has been floating around in my head since I saw the show last Tuesday, and I finally got around to typing it out. I really fell in love the character of Auggie, he intrigued me on a level that was more than Christopher Gorham being a cutie. I think that there is something more to Auggie than he lets Annie see, then he lets anyone see. So I chose to expound upon that, and this is what came up. Not really a story, more of a character study, with flashbacks into his past, before the Accident (and yes we will be capitalizing that word). Kate is a character that is created to be Auggie's hidden pain, and boy is she ever. I really hope that this allows you to see a little more into what I see in Auggie and his infectious good will. Didn't really turn out the way I planned, but I'm happy with it nonetheless. :)
It was close to mid night when he finally made it home. His feet hurt, along with his head. His dark shades hid from the world that he had been walking with his eyes closed for the past 2 blocks. Living out of town seemed like a good idea when he and Kate had bought the house, but now it was simply a hindrance for him. Shifting his cane from his right hand to his left, he fished his keys from his pants pocket. With practiced ease, he fitted it to the lock and the door swung open with barely a squeak.
He stepped into the dark house, not bothering with the light switch he knew was located on the wall to his left, he dropped is keys into the bowl placed directly in the center of the table on the left wall, two steps from the door. Not stopping he headed straight back, right hand loosening his tie and unbuttoning the navy sweater vest. That done, he let his hand trail along the wall into the open kitchen living room. Wanting nothing more than to head up the stairs and sleep for the whole weekend, his hand found the button on the answering machine with a sigh.
"No new messages." The automated voice said back to him, as he sighed again, hand carding though his tousled brown hair.
"Of course." He murmured into the silence, before he continued through the kitchen, following the hallway down through the house, to the stairs that would lead him to the upstairs.
His hand trailed up the banister as he counted the number of stairs in his head, not even realizing he was doing it. At number thirteen and one more step, he turned left, and four more steps turned to his right and entered his bedroom. Setting his cane down on the bedside table, he pulled his dark glasses off and placed them next to said cane. Taking his wallet and cell phone from his pockets, those followed. His watch was placed next to his cell phone, which he made a mental note to plug into charge.
Shrugging off his sweater vest, he draped it over the back of the chair to the right of the table. It was soon followed by his tie. His shoes were placed on the seat of the chair, and his dark pants and lighter coloured shirt were dropped into the clothes hamper by the closet door.
Clad only in his underclothes he headed for the bathroom, mind foggy with the thoughts of his nice warm and soft bed, and the fact that he had the weekend off. Clenching his teeth, as if that would ward off the painful memories, he turned the handle on the shower, and stepped away, waiting for it to warm. Pulling his towel down from its place on the towel rack, he draped it over the edge of the sink, and leaned against it, glad for the small pleasure of being blind. He knew the scars that crisscrossed his body were bad, if the amount of pain he had woken up in was any indication after that fateful day. He was very glad that he could not see them in the mirror he knew was above the sink, behind him.
Eyes closed as a dull ache started at the base of his skull, he shed the rest of his clothing and stepped into the shower, hissing at the hot water hit his skin, before relaxing letting it sooth and loosen tight muscles. Standing under the spray of water, he ran fingers through dripping hair, letting the steam and the hot water cascading down his body wash away the memories of the past.
Blue eyes met brown from across the large conference table and she smiled before she looked away. He smirked at the light blush that covered her cheeks and the way her lips twitched in amusement. It was their own private joke, one that no one else would ever be privy to.
Kate Simmons smiled behind the curtain of blonde hair that fell in front of her face. He was still looking her way, and she felt her heart flutter. Swallowing hard she tried to compose herself, telling herself that last night hadn't been as amazing at it really had been. After dinner and a few drinks, the two had gone back to her place and… Kate flushed again…needless to say she had waken up the next morning in a pleasantly delirious state.
Hands clenched at his side, before he turned the water off, listening as the last of it swirled down the drain, stepping out of the shower, wrapping himself in the towel, and padding into the bedroom, not really caring that he was dripping. The wardrobe was labeled clearly with what was held in each drawer, not that he needed it, he knew where everything was by simply living here for what seemed like a thousand years.
Shaking his head, and the thoughts away, he finished toweling off and slipped into shorts and an old Boston College tee-shirt. Tossing the towel in the general direction of the hamper, he turned towards the bed. Hands sliding up the slightly coarse material of the duvet, he turned down the blankets, and was soon situated with the blankets pulled up to his chin.
He blinked his eyes open and the first thing he noticed was the darkness, and the second was the pain. Clenching his teeth, he let out a strangled moan, and shifted, eyes uselessly sweeping back and forth, looking for light. He could hear everything that was happening around him, the breathing of the man who was walking by, the beat of the woman's heart who sat at the table down the hall, his own heart pounding a tattoo in his chest. If it hadn't been for the white hot pain that laced through his brain he would had covered his ears. But as it was he simply whimpered.
"Baby."
He gasped as a familiar soft voice cut through the haze and swung his eyes futilely in the direction it came. A soft hand took his, and lips touched his forehead, "It's okay baby, it's alright."
"Kate? I can't see you." he gasped out, his voice hoarse, breathing labored, mind reeling.
"I'm right here, sweetheart, I'm right here." She whispered to him, and he could hear the sound of a chair being pulled up to his bed. As things got clearer, he noticed the strong, almost overpowering smell of antiseptic, and the nauseous scent that was unique to all hospitals.
"Kate?" he squeezed her hand, ignoring the white hot pokers that seared is body, focusing on the gentle hand that threaded through his hair, "What happened? Why can't I see you? Kate?"
He heard her breath catch, and could smell the salt in her tears, "What do you remember?" she asked, her voice hitching as if she tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.
"No much," he murmured back, "in the humvee, John making some stupid comment about the letters from Nick's mom.." he stopped, "What happened?" he demanded, "What's going on? Why can't I see you, or anything?"
Kate choked again, and strangled a sob as he came to the conclusion himself, "Am…am I…am I..blind?" he whispered, disbelief in his voice.
The shrill sound of his cell phone cut into his sleep fogged mind, and he sat up in bed with a gasp. Groping around on his nightstand, he finally found his phone. Taking a deep breath, to calm his erratic breathing he answered. "Anderson."
"Hey, Auggie, did I wake you?" Annie's voice came through the tiny speaker, and he relaxed a little.
"No, it's fine, what time is it anyway?" he replied, reaching for his watch.
"A little after 11. You'd mentioned you need to pick some stuff up from town, I was wondering if you wanted a ride." She said, hedging, not sure if she would be insulting him with her offer or not. He gave a tiny smile to himself, "I mean, I have to get some things to, and I wasn't…"
"I'd love a ride, Annie." He cut her off, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.
She breathed a sigh of relief, "Great!" she said, "I'll be there in 20?"
He gave an inaudible laugh, "See you then… wait do you know where you're going?" he asked.
"Uh…"
He laughed out loud this time, "Number 12, St. Charles Street. You can't miss it." He told her.
"Great! See ya soon!"
He continued chuckling as he placed his phone back on his nightstand, pulling his shirt over his head. So much for sleeping all day, he thought to himself, chuckling again, as he dressed, slowly, happy for the distraction.
Fifteen minutes later he was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Setting the coffee pot back in its cradle, he headed for the front door. Halfway down the hall he was hit with the smell of grapefruit, and smiled opening the door.
"You didn't even ask who it was." Annie said, sounding shocked, when the door opened before her.
"No need, no one else wears that perfume." He smirked at her, before holding up his cup, "Coffee?" he offered, leading her into the house.
"No, thank you." She replied, eyes taking in the interior. Warm wood paneling lead down the hall and into the large living room. Black tile filled the kitchen and a large bay window provided a great view of the Potomac.
He led her into the kitchen. "Sure I can't get you anything? Coffee? Breakfast? I make a mean fried egg." He told her, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"No, I'm good thanks." She laughed, still looking around, admiring the home. There was not a single piece of dust or a single item out of place.
"Alright, I'll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge." He gestured toward the refrigerator before he headed off towards the stairs. Annie took the time to look at the photographs placed lovingly on the mantle over the friendly looking fireplace.
All showed a family of four, with a youngest looking boy, a mess of brown hair seeming out of place with blonde parents. But the one that caught her eye was a photo of Auggie; he was dressed in a suit with a maroon graduate robe on. In his hand he clutched a tightly rolled diploma and was smiling straight at the camera. This must have been before the accident. Before he had been blinded.
The sound of hard soled shoes on the hard wood floors made Annie turn. She smiled as Auggie entered the living room, shrugging his coat on. "Where did you go to school?" she asked, looking back at the picture.
He stopped, and cocked his head to one side, "Oh," he said in understanding, "The picture on the mantel. That was right after I graduated from law school. Boston College." He told her, cane held loosely in his left hand, the green light illuminating the wood flooring.
"Ah." Annie nodded, smiling once more at her friend, forgetting that he couldn't see her.
"Well," he said, holding out his arm, casting a smirk in her general direction, "Shall we?" he asked.
She laughed, and took his arm, "Might be best if I drive." She said teasingly.
Auggie shook his head, "I don't know, from what I hear, we might actually be safer if I drove." He told her with a laugh.
Annie rolled her eyes at him, "Don't believe everything you heard, you've ridden with me plenty of times and you're not dead yet." She told him. He laughed again, as she led him down the hall and onto the porch. Locking his door, he hooked his arm with hers again.
"Auggie," she said, stopping and turning to look at him, "I'm glad that we know each other."
He gave her a tiny smile, and nodded slightly, "You know what? Me too, Annie, me too."
Letting her led him to the car, he sat with the door open, letting the sun warm his face, against the cool October wind, happy that he could at least still feel the sun, even if he could see the light it provided.
A/N2: okay so it's not the best thing that I've written, but I'm working on an Annie/Auggie love story to be posted in the near future, that is right after I've finished with my essay on the origins of Shakespeare's Othello. Blah.