Apologies for any gross jargon misuse. I'm actually not a fan of baseball, but I did my best.
Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs and am not making any money from publishing this piece.
Play the Game
They stand in conference on the Mall, strategizing how to bring her back into a game that has continued in her absence. Rules and figureheads have changed; end-goals and targets have shifted. Yet, she wants to return to a time when things were simpler - when she was in it for the fun and exhilaration, before statistics and scores mattered.
Whether she likes it or not - whether she is even conscious of the change - Annie will never be the same person she was prior to Hong Kong. No matter how dirty her hands have become, she is an All Star. There is no going back to the minor leagues.
It's too soon to dole out the reality of her situation. He can't tell her she's asking for the impossible off the bat. Moving from the from disabled list to starting lineup presents unique challenges; ones that he believes Annie is taking for granted. Any player should recognize that four months away from the field of action incurs a certain cost. There's a required adjustment period to limber up neglected muscles, to reestablish rapport with the team, to assess areas of strength and weakness.
"I realized I can't do this job and have emotional attachments," she admits. "I've got to concentrate solely only the work. I hope that's okay."
He swallows the truth on that one too and assures her, "Time passed. We're good."
Their relationship has always been centered on support. Throughout their history, he's fulfilled a variety of roles: handler, friend, partner, lover. As a rookie, he coached her through the innings. Whenever she needed reassurance, he waved his ballcap and spouted off encouragement. At times when he thought she was making a bad or costly play, he still stood behind her. In the four years they've worked together, they've experienced big wins and terrible losses, both professionally and personally.
Now they've run the diamond and are up to bat again, hovering at square one. Along with her request for simplicity, she's asking him to be her handler once more. It's a tougher decision than he lets on.
Slipping back into their original roles is like putting on an old glove: it is not what it once was. The mold of the leather lining feels familiar, yet grimy from years of use. The padding is worn thin and the skin is cracked in places. Somehow the glove has become foreign, yet the memories it holds linger on the scarred surface. Still, it is beautiful - a treasure to be cherished and kept.
Ultimately, if reverting to the handler-agent relationship will keep her near, he'll do his best to ignore any romantic strings hanging between them: entanglements Annie believes will keep her from becoming the best agent she's capable of being.
For now, he will do as she asks. Let her set the rules. Let her pitch a few curve balls his way. He will watch her from home, catch her when she's spiraling, cradle her for as long as she needs to be held, and toss her back into the spy game when she's ready. . .even when he's not.
Annie's hand brushes against his own, silently asking: separate or together? Are they still a team?
Running his fingers up her forearm to her elbow - a simple touch he's missed all these months - Auggie answers without words.
They stroll in Langley's direction, ready to face whatever challenges and opponents are thrown their way: together.