Joan knows Auggie and Annie are close and sometimes, honestly, she's a little jealous of the other woman. After all, Joan's known Auggie since he was almost fresh off the farm, sweet and well-mannered. An army boy from Michigan (or so she'd thought). When she'd met him, the northern accent was still just barely detectable and she'd had no idea he was an operative too.
Annie barely knows any of it.
Annie doesn't know about the op they ran together, that Auggie nearly died saving her. She doesn't know what it was like when Auggie was blinded. She didn't see the scars or tears. That panic and chaos were never part of her life.
Annie never felt the fear of talking a friend down from a suicide attempt. She'd never seen Auggie hold a gun, point it at himself. She'd never witnessed Auggie break down completely. 'I don't know if I can do this.' He'd whispered before she'd wrapped him in a hug.
No, Annie's Auggie was confident and unbreakable. He was her super hero, doing everything he could to help her, just like he'd done everything he could for Joan.
Joan's Auggie wasn't any less of a hero; maybe even more so, knowing what he had overcome to be where he was. But Auggie knew Joan had watched him as he built himself back up. She knew him better than anyone else at the CIA.
Joan knew Auggie needed someone who hadn't seen him at his weakest, because someone who didn't know couldn't remind him.
Annie had (to Joan's knowledge) never seen Auggie's eyes, half-closed with desire, in the light of a Paris moon, had never felt the rush of a kiss from his lips mixed with the thrill knowing they were being watched. Annie had never been wrapped in Auggie's arms, never had conversations through kisses about how to maintain their cover.
They had feared for the op, for their lives and the adrenaline brought them closer together. Exactly how close is classified information, possibly documented by a now-debunked weapons trading ring.
Joan watched the pair unnoticed as Auggie lightly held her arm, smiling a bit of a lopsided grin as he made a remark that made Annie laugh. Auggie's eyes were twinkling happily and Joan had to smile, even through the pangs of regret at what they had lost.
"Do you ever think back to Paris, Auggie?" Joan asked one night, weeks later. It was late and they were the only ones still at the DPD.
"Which part? The part where we pretty much single-handedly brought down a weapons trading ring? Or the part where you look stunning in an evening dress?" He smiled mischievously and she couldn't help but laugh.
"Somewhere in between that." A ghost of a smile crossed Auggie's face. A ghost of a smile for the ghost of a romance.
"I do sometimes. Why?" He turns his head towards her, tilting it in question.
"Whatever happened to us, Auggie?" Joan was sitting on the edge of his desk. His hand moves, finding her arm and lying there protectively.
"I was deployed and you met Arthur. I guess we both just moved on." Joan knows she loves Arthur, but part of her yearns to know what a life with Auggie would have been like.
"We were good." He nods and the ghost-smile returns.
"Yeah...we were. We really, really were."
Joan thinks there are other worlds than this one and she knows that in some of those other worlds, her and Auggie are together still. Sometimes, she aches to be in those places.
"You and Annie have been spending a lot of time together." She says, feigning casualness. Auggie rolls his eyes.
"Don't say it like that."
"I didn't say anything." She smiles a little, though he can't see it.
"Nothing's going to happen with me and Annie." Auggie leans back in his chair, hand still on Joan's arm.
"She's nice, Auggie. She's pretty."
"I hadn't noticed." He jokes dryly. Joan squeezes his hand.
"She's blonde."
"And we all know how much I like blondes." He laughs and then they're quiet for a moment until he speaks again. "I'll never forget the last time I saw you. You drove me to the airport. What was it, like 5 in the morning?"
"4." She supplied softly.
"Anyway, it was early. We got there too soon and had to wait. We watched the sunrise." She nods.
"I remember." They're both quiet with nostalgia, wondering what had gone wrong to end them up like this.
"You looked beautiful." Joan actually blushes, because for some reason, Auggie calling her beautiful is completely different from when he called her stunning not that long ago; it was the far-away sound of his voice, the sound of someone stuck in a memory.
Joan closes her eyes. It's late and this isn't a conversation they would be having if they both weren't so tired; it had been a long week.
"I lied earlier." Auggie said suddenly. "I think about Paris more than sometimes. But you're married to Arthur now and at the end of the day, that's where we are."
Joan nods, smiling because Auggie has always been a perfect gentleman to her, even when she was less than a lady to him. She would never suggest what she really wanted, a kiss. Because she knew she, at least, wouldn't settle for just one.
"It's late. We should both go get some rest." They stand at the same time and Joan waits 'til Auggie had gathered his bag .Outside, she stands with him for a while as he fumbles for his phone, intending on calling for a ride.
"I could give you a lift." She suggests. "Its not very far out of my way."
"No, it's late, you should get home." She sighs.
"Auggie, it's fine. Come one, it won't be a problem." The parking lot it is deserted and Auggie is holding Joan's arm, bumping into her occasionally. His hand slips and he drops his phone to the ground.
"Damn it." He mutters, kneeling and trying to find it. Joan's fingers brush his as she talks.
"No, I got it. Here." She presses the device into his hands, neither letting go as they stand again. Auggie hasn't been this close to her in years. Her shampoo and detergent have changed, but her perfume hasn't and he finds the scent strangely comforting. He can feel her breath and he knows he should step back but he leans forward instead, his nose brushing hers.
"Joan..." His voice is a rough half-whisper. She reaches up a hand and brushes it against the
side of his face, sending chills through his body. He leans closer and they're sharing air. Their lips are only millimeters apart. One small move and everything changes and maybe for a little while things will be the way they should've been all along.
Auggie takes a deep breath, his hands settling on Joan's waist, pulling her body to his. The warmth between them is intoxicating and Joan doesn't know if she's dizzy from inhaling spent air or from the proximity to Auggie.
"Joan...I can't." He steps back and takes a breath. There's a pause before he's caught off guard when she steps forward into him, hands on his face, lips crashing together. Their kiss isn't pretty, isn't something from a movie. It's desperate and raw and needy. It wants to make the world right, to turn back time. Its a kiss from Paris, with passion and regret.
A/N. Its 4am and I think I've eliminated most of the blinding errors. I posted this before I lost the confidence to do so. I'll come back to fix it more after I've slept. Enjoy!