A/N: Okay, bear with me, this is going to be a longish Author's note for a fairly short-ish prologue type chapter. This is my first multi-chaptered story with any sort of plot, though, so I'm feeling a little anxious. Actually, a lot anxious; my confidence for high-stress and serious stories is not exactly high. The first thing I'm going to do is BEG you guys to come to me if you see anything off. If you don't like characterization, if you don't think some action or comment or other is quite on, please, please tell me! I feel like an idiot when I get things wrong and can't correct them because I don't KNOW about them, and feeling like an idiot is one of my least favorite things ever!

Now, format. This story might not exactly be formatted normally. It's kind of like a show, though; you know, the scenes don't last forever. They're not protracted. Some of my scenes might last a few pages in Word, but some might only be a few paragraphs, and whose POV you find yourself in might jump around a lot. It'll be fairly clearly marked. I like to play around with characters, see if I can write them, show things from a different angle from time to time.

I have an outline for this. It's a great outline. When I bother to write them for stories, they usually stick to the outline, so at least there's that. The outline calls for twelve chapters. I don't really have a posting schedule - once a week makes me so impatient when I read stories, but if it TAKES me a week, that's what it takes. Then again, if I whip up a chapter in a day, I'll post it then, so. ;) I guess it balances out. I really, really hope that you guys enjoy this. Remember, if you have any issues, please tell me! I'm still learning, here.

After A/N of epic lengths, Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs. I don't own the characters, the actors, or any sort of canon storyline. I certainly don't own any sets or any sexy shoes. It's not mine. I'm just borrowing it. This is also unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Oh, and "I Walk The Line" belongs to somebody who is definitely not me - I use it to keep in-tradition with naming episodes after songs.

. . . . . . . . .

"Chloe Anne Brooks, I swear I will eat your dessert myself if you don't get back in here!" Hands perched precariously on her hips, Annie glared after her niece, eyes narrowed. At the counter, where she was dutifully swishing a damp rag to clean up the mess they'd made making dinner, Katia giggled. Annie tried to glare at her, too - really, she did - but failed miserably at her younger niece's impish grin. "She said she'd share it with me!" The younger hellion yelled, and heavy footsteps clomped back up the house's old wooden hallway, preceeding the elder spawn as she issued forth with an indignant yell.

"Aunt Annie, I was just -"

The fact that she'd been had dawning, Annie smirked as the girl's cheeks reddened and she hung her head in defeat. Sure, maybe it wasn't really nice to feel so triumphant for beating a nine-year-old in a game of wits, but she had some smart nieces. It took a lot to beat them! "March, soldier. Those dishes need drying and putting up." Pointing imperiously, she made sure that Chloe set to her task, then she returned to her own: putting the finishing touches on their bowls of brownie a la mode. Topping the modest heaps of brownie and rocky road with cheerful flourishes of chocolate syrup and spray whipped cream, she beamed, planting a newly-clean spoon in each one and making one last sweep of the kitchen to make sure everything was in place. Dani was a neat freak, and having minions to help clean didn't mean that they would do it right.

This time they had, though, through joint effort managed to get the kitchen spic and span after the insane explosion of spaghetti sauce that had somehow happened while she was trying to make dinner. Sure, there might have been a spot or two on the ceiling still, but...would Danielle really look up there?

She hoped not.

Really, she did. In the mean time, though, she beamed at the girls and gestured to their bowls of dessert. "All right. Your reward; and we can finish watching Road to El Dorado." She smiled. They cheered; it was already ten, but it was Saturday and who was she to be the mean aunt and send them to bed at their normal bedtime when it was a weekend? Plus, there were only thirty minutes or so left, and...God help her, she was interested in how the movie ended. Apparently, when you're out of the country when movies come out, you totally miss them - and what were nieces good for if not sneakily enjoying childish pursuits?

They all traipsed back into the living room, parking on the pile of bean bag chairs they'd been slumped on for three movies, now. Chloe and Katia seemed to think they were cooler than the perfectly nice furniture, and Annie wasn't going to argue with them when there was ice cream involved.

The movie passed quickly, but Annie was almost as sleepy as the girls when the credits rolled. She'd had a long few days - it might not have been so harrowing, chasing a suspected smuggler around DC, had Kingston not been her tech ops handler through them. Usually, Auggie was pretty possessive, but with him in Africa and Stu busy, well; she hadn't had much choice but to work with Kingston, who did not like her, for whatever reason. He'd been even less inclined to being pleased with her when she'd let the guy slip; it was her fault, too. Even Joan knew that. She was off her game. Maybe she wasn't ready to go back to anywhere but Desk Duty. Did it matter if she wanted to be in the field, wanted to be doing what she had been trained to do, if she was off? If she was going to keep botching things, sending them on to somebody who was better at their job than she was?

Shaking that off, grateful for the distraction, she clapped her hands together and struggled out of her bean bag. "Okay! That's that. You two, brush your teeth and get your PJs on. I'll be up in a second." She smiled as brightly as she could manage through their exaggerated groans, and shooed them off upstairs with a flap of her hands. They trudged up with heavy feet and heavier eyelids, and Annie shook her head, amused in spite of herself. They could have been she and Dani, twenty years ago; granted the rare treat of staying up when dad got back from some work assignment or other but then told to go to bed before they were ready all the same.

Ambling sleepily to the kitchen to rinse out the bowls and throw them in the dishwasher, she did a casual sweep of the house, checking to make sure the usual locks and security codes were all inputted. Outside, the wind kicked up, and she could hear the trees in the back yard lashing against the windows. Making a mental note to tell the girls not to worry about that, she set to the task of rinsing, humming one or other of the songs from the last movie to herself. As she was putting the last spoon in the machine, the phone on the counter rang loudly, and she wiped her hands, snatching it up before it could go to the machine. "Hello?" Never mind that it could really only be her sister at almost midnight, she still couldn't help but wonder.

"Annie!" Yep, Danielle. Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding (She was almost thirty - ugh - years old, had lived in most corners of the world, and won her fair share of fights; she had killed a man. The primal fear of who was on the phone late at night was silly), she smiled, leaning a hip on the counter and peering out of the kitchen window contemplatively. "Dani! How are things going? You didn't kill Michael, did you?" Trying to keep her voice down, not wanting either of the girls to hear her quip, she smirked. Danielle laughed, and in the background it echoed: her sister was calling her from a bathroom. "No, not yet. Annie, I'm going to be home soon, do you think we can talk? It's been an ice cream kind of night." The quiet, strained voice was one that stirred her usual protectiveness, and Annie's smirk dropped off into a scowl. She had hurt Danielle, but Michael continued to, and...well, she didn't want to string him up by his eyelids. Really. She didn't.

Instead of that, though, she forced a smile and as much cheer into her voice as she could muster. "Hells yeah! I'll get the spoons out now." She made a point of clinking them loudly on the counter, and was rewarded with Danielle's quiet laugh. "Great. Did the girls behave themselves?" Annie winced. Oh. Yes. There was that, wasn't there? "...sure. They were great!" She went with the truth, but Dani, being Dani, heard right through it. "They're still awake, aren't they." It wasn't a question.

Annie giggled helplessly, shameless as she wandered back through the house and towards the stairs. "Want to say goodnight to them before I send them to bed?" She asked instead of answering directly, and when the affirmative came she bounced up the stairs, peeking into doors until she found them both in Chloe's room. It wasn't entirely unusual for the girls to sleep in the same room - they had until last year - so that wasn't particularly surprising. Punching the button for speaker phone, she smiled, setting it on the low pink vanity next to the bathroom door. "Alright, you two, say goodnight to your mom and then it's lights out." She instructed.

Goodnights were swift; they were both tired, and apparently Danielle's mom-radar recognized it, since she kept the conversation short and focused on getting them in bed and asleep so they could embark on some adventure or other in the morning. Hanging up, Annie shooed them into the pink pillow-covered bed, smiling at their twin expressions of sleepy mischief. "Alright, go to sleep. If you're still up when she gets home, you're gonna be in trouble." Ah, Trouble; it was nice when they were still young enough for it to work. It wouldn't be long before they grew out of that.

Impulsively planting overdramatic kisses on both of their foreheads, Annie ignored their laughing protests and exited the room, smiling to herself. In spite of having missed various amounts of their infancy and early childhood, she loved both of them, and was happy that Dani'd met Michael in High School if only for that. Even if she did want to hurt him right now.

Maybe if she'd been on her game, she might have realized that the breeze through the living room wasn't entirely normal. No, she would have, for sure, because that's not something you miss when you've had as many hours of training in observing your surroundings as she had. Unfortunately, she'd let her guard down upon locking all of the doors; she had not even considered that anything might be off.

A blur of motion at her left resolved itself into the shape of a boot just before it hit her in the face. The pain behind the immediate clack of her jaw was belied by shock, but her body reacted automatically; she lunged left, right arm swinging in a swift arc. It connected with her surprised attacker's stomach, but she only got a quick look at pale holes in a black mask before they were attacking again. An attempt to duck a similar punch sent a bolt of pain down her arm, and she matched it, raising her knee to sharply jut between the unprotected legs of the intruder. Male: check. He doubled over briefly, and she swiftly glanced around, automatically looking to see if there was anything she could brain him with - that proved to be a mistake.

He lunged again, still doubled over; her breath left her in a rush as she hit the floor hard, head snapping back and bouncing off of the hardwoods. A fist descended, fascinatingly slow-motion as, still reeling, she was unable to defend herself.

Then, darkness.

. . . . . . . .

"Annie. Annie!"

Picking her way through the overwhelming sensory input of pain reporting in from all over her body, Annie stirred, and in a valiant attempt to scramble to her feet only incurred more agony. Never mind movie badassery; when you hurt as badly as she did, it was kind of hard to leap to your feet like some sort of ninja. Instead, she stumbled, hit her head on the banister at the bottom of the stairs and slumped over the risers, blinking dazedly. "Annie! What the hell happened? Are you okay? Hey!"

Fingers snapped in the vicinity of her right ear, and she turned her head in that direction, staring blankly at the pale apparition of her older sister. "Oh, god." Danielle paled even further, and Annie eyed her warily, distantly wondering what the hell was going on. Her mind was muddled, thoughts came randomly - until one struck her, cold and hot in the same moment, cleaving a path through the haze. "Dani; the girls. Go check on them." Sick fear curled in her gut as her sister immediately flew up the stairs, and she took a steadying breath, carefully collecting herself and fighting to get to her feet. Immediately, she regretted the action, but the wave of dizziness was nothing when compared to the panic that was starting to gather when Dani was silent for the few seconds it must have taken to assure that Chloe and Katia were safe.

Where was Michael? She glanced around the room slowly, and the dread in her gut only grew with the realization that all of the expensive electronics and other normal targets for break-ins were still in place and unharmed. In fact, the only sign of a struggle was concentrated around the bottom landing of the stairs.

Noises, upstairs; still leaning on the banister and trying to stop the confusion between overwhelming terror and maddening pain between her temples from forcing her to vomit up her ice cream, she could only wonder what they meant. Time passed, and though she couldn't tell you exactly how much time it was, she was distantly aware of every heavy footstep that plodded down the stairs when the search was over. It wasn't Danielle. If it was her attacker, they weren't going to have a very sporting round two - she wasn't good for it. Actually, the energy that it took to lift her head to stare down whoever it was almost forced her dinner up with the ice cream, and when she found that Michael had finally appeared it somehow didn't settle the fear.

That could have been his expression, though. "They're not here." He sounded hoarse, choked, and the room spun briefly in ghastly circles as Annie lowered her head to the hand-carved bauble on top of the bottom banister. Shit. Guilt and terror did a macabre little dance around her aching brain, but none of that was any use as to the question that formed slowly, hampered by fog and pain: What was she going to do?

She didn't know. She didn't have the first clue.