Ten minutes is what it takes for his eyes to stop watering, his breathing to steady itself back to normal. An hour and a half until she's able to speak to him. It's a short, painkiller-infiltrated wisp of a conversation—Auggie? I'm here. I'm glad I didn't die. …Me too, Annie—but it does allow his heart to unclench a bit, lets his head fall to the edge of the mattress, his hard plastic chair the most comfortable place in the world right now.
It's three hours until Joan comes back. She smiles at the scene she finds—Annie's breaths coming contentedly, her eyelids fluttering, and a half-asleep Auggie stroking the ridges between her knuckles repeatedly. With the sense of bruised peacefulness comes a swelling rage at Lena. If things had worked—if she had really…killed Annie—
Joan finds herself shaking her head, pushing the thought from her mind.
She didn't.
Auggie stirs, as if sensing her presence. As if on cue, his head rises, the fact that he hasn't paid much attention to personal upkeep lately evident in the sweep of hair across his eyes and rumpled button-up shirt. "Joan?"
"Yeah," she says, and it comes out as a sigh more than anything else. She eyes the room's second chair, located only a few feet from Auggie's. "Let's sit together?"
He nods, his gaze tired, turning back to the bed. "The doctor said she could be asleep for a few hours. Probably more."
Joan nods on instinct, her bones threatening to crack as she lowers herself into the chair. She hasn't realized just how tired she is, how downright exhausting this has been, until now. She watches as Auggie's fingers lace together, forming an upright triangle against the mattress. The image lingers in her mind. If anything, the time for prayer was before.
"It's not going to be easy, you know." Her tone is gentle. Her hand rests against his shoulder.
He adjusts his position, though not enough to shrug her off. "I know. But right now, I just—I can't really find a reason to care. If a slow recovery is the only price, I'm sure as hell happy to pay."
"She's a fighter," Joan says simply, and in any other situation Auggie would've mentally rolled his eyes at the cliché. "But it's not always evident how strong they are right after."
A good-natured smirk flashes across his face. If anything, he knows that.
"That's why you need to stay with her," she continues. Firmly. "You staying by her side gives the best chance to her recovery. Of course I don't want your duties gathering dust over at the DPD, but there is no need for you to stay working in that office until two a.m. anymore. If anything, I'm forbidding it. Right now, Annie is your top priority."
"All of ours," he responds after a beat.
Her eyes settle on his, and he swears he can feel the coolness dance the length of his spine. "But mostly yours."
"Joan…" He chuckles drily. "Honestly, I've been with her from day one. After that first mission—with Stas?—I think you could have ordered me to never lay eyes on her again and I would only have been able to fulfill the literal part of the bargain."
This time it's a real smile. "Which is why I didn't."
"Should I have been worried?"
"Never."
He lifts the corners of his mouth, keeping a firmer grip on Annie's palm, not wanting to ask the question he knows he has to. "Joan, what about Lena?"
The silence. There's been too much damn silence for the past two days. "Joan?"
"We didn't find her, Auggie," she finally answers. Her tone is brusque. "But that does not mean we won't."
"Right."
"Listen to me, Auggie. I wasn't bullshitting before and I certainly am not now. Yes, she is hurt—both mentally and physically. Yes, it will be hard. And yes, you will recover. Both of you." She squeezes his arm gently before standing. "Together."
A/N: This was written for the Covert Affairs Hiatus fic fest hosted on tumblr, which you should definitely check out!
I own nothing, much to my dismay.
