On the Matter of Sight
Description: Three times Auggie wished he could see Annie, and one time he was glad he couldn't.
Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs, nor do I own Fruit Loops (except that one box, in my cupboard).
A/N: Thank you to all my readers. I am beyond grateful that you have taken the time to examine my work. This was an idea from LJ user ohleeveeah (although with a bit more angst finish).
"The new girl from the farm is smokin'," Auggie heard one of his testosterone-driven co-workers crow. The group of younger agents that gathered in the kitchen every morning to drink coffee murmured in agreement, and began to describe which specific attributes they appreciated. Auggie smiled to himself at his colleagues' collective consensus.
He had assumed she wasn't a complete dog when he found out Joan would be having her pose as a prostitute ("escort"). But when they met, that's when he knew. Sure it had something to do with the way Conrad spoke to her, but it was something more. Maybe the way she carried herself. She was shy but confident, smart, capable, and something more. She was genuinely honest, which was rare at the CIA. He had encountered a lot of agents on their first day, and after their first time meeting, he knew that Annie was going to spectacular.
But after working with her, going out on the field with her (albeit as a cadaver) he felt a longing that he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew about her Jo Malone perfume and that she used vanilla lavender dryer sheets. He knew she wore heels, walked decisively, and chewed her nails when she was bored. He knew she wore cotton-blends and that her hands were particularly soft.
Auggie had never considered himself a vain man. Even before, he had always tried to see beyond how tight a girl's pants were. But after years of darkness, he had truly wanted to see. He wanted to know how Annie's lip curved and if her face was round and if her eyes burned fiercely when she was angry. He wanted to know how her hair fell and how her legs looked when she walked in a skirt. And even as the thoughts invaded his head, he shocked himself with the intensity of emotion he felt.
But as he thought about this woman, who quickly had become the buzz of the CIA, who was brave and strong, if not a bit naive, he ached to, for one moment, see her.
oOoOoOo
As day was bleeding into night, the DPD office was still in full swing. Craving coffee, Auggie made his way over to the kitchen.
He smelled her before he heard her. "Annie?" he asked.
He heard he sniff, and in an exasperated voice she said, "Hey, Auggie." She sounded like she was sitting in the corner, at one of the cheap plastic tables the CIA must have considered appropriately comfortable for breaks.
He heard her stifle her breath. "What's wrong?" he asked.
She sniffed again. "Nothing," she said, but her voice wavered.
He half-smiled to himself. She was such a great liar on the field, he wondered how she could lie so poorly to him. "In case you forgot, I am blind not dumb," he said.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, black, and another for Annie with a touch of cream.
He set down one of the mugs in front of her, and eased into one of the mottled plastic chairs. "What's wrong?"
She sighed deeply. He could hear her tap her fingers nervously on the table. "I killed a guy today." She said it casually, but he could hear the tension in her voice.
"He was going to kill you," he offered.
"I know," she said, defensively. "That doesn't make it any easier."
"I know," he said, solemnly. "The first one is the hardest."
And since he didn't know what else to say, they simply sat there, in the tentatively comfortable silence.
In that moment, as Auggie listened to her anxious fingers and sipped his caustic brew, wondered what she looked like. Was her mascara smudged, were her eyes puffy, and was there a crease in her forehead that wouldn't ease? Were he shoulders hunched or did she sit up straight. Would anyone else have even noticed her tears?
He knew this was a rare moment, that a few years from now she would deny. He wished, in that moment, he could see how beautiful she looked when she was a bit broken and tired, but very real.
"I don't usually cry," she said, finally.
"I didn't peg you as the crying type," he said, and smiled widely at her.
The sound of her stifled chuckled let him know the tension had eased.
oOoOoOo
They had been sent on a stake-out of a group of Columbians suspected of espionage. Auggie had hacked their security system, and Annie was there to monitored them. All night.
So there they sat, Annie watching the group of arrogant men fight and watch TV. She described the scenes in great detail, often with her own sarcastic commentary.
The Columbians eventually went to bed, but Annie and Auggie had their orders. So there they remained. Eventually Auggie said, "I guess we are in for a long night." Then he smiled deviously, "tell me about your first crush."
Annie laughed. "What are we, 12?"
"It's going to be a long night. What do you propose we talk about to keep it interesting," he said, his voice rich with innuendo.
Annie gave an exasperated sight, "Oh fine." Normally she would have brushed the question off, but there was something about the night, she felt safe in the car, safe with him. She began to tell him of her first crush, when she was 9, on a boy in her neighborhood who owned a yellow Mustang and had greasy hair.
And so there they sat, sharing stories of childhood pets and high school dating debacles, their families, and their training on the farm.
And as they sun rose over the smoggy horizon, she described that to Auggie too. The bruised purples, firey pinks, and golden oranges blended together and lit up the morning sky as the burning yellow sun emerged.
"I have told you way more than I had intended," she said, self-consciously, her voice was ragged from talking all night.
"Well, I haven't been exactly acting as if my life is need to know. Besides, I like getting to know you," he said.
He breathed deeply. After they had spent all night in this forsaken car, it smelled like sweat and Chinese food. He turned his face towards her, and flashed her a smile.
Over their year working together, he had planned with her, fought with her, protected her. He knew more about the woman sitting mere inches from him in a CIA issued economy car, than he knew about, maybe, anyone else. And though he rarely though about it, the intimacy of the moment was so great, and a pang of craving to see her mussed hair and tired face tugged at him.
"Yeah, it's been a great night," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He felt her warm hand reach for his. There her hand remained for just a moment too long to be considered polite, and her fingers lingered as she pulled her hand away.
"Oh, the Columbians are awake," she exclaimed suddenly, the moment broken, and began to describe the men crawling out of bed and eating Fruit Loops.
oOoOoOo
Auggie had been sifting through intel when he heard it. Annie and Jai, his laugh and hers blending together to make a sickening sound that struck Auggie like a punch to the gut. They had started dating last week and it had been all flirts and giggles since then.
Auggie heard Jai's breathy whisper, and then he heard Annie sigh. Auggie felt a pain rip through his gut, and his blood ran cold. He knew this shouldn't bother him so much. He and Annie had never officially dated, they had never officially been more than friends. But they had been getting close. And then that *expletive* guy had asked her out.
Now he had front row tickets to the ever-deepening Jai/Annie romance. And he experienced almost all of it, hearing the lilt in his voice when he said "Annie," and smelling his Calvin Klein cologne muddled with her grapefruit perfume when she walked by. It was a small reprieve, not seeing him twist a finger through her hair, not seeing her bite her lip when he she looked in his eyes. It was bad enough knowing that she breathed the wrong name.
Sometimes Auggie could put on his headphones and it all disappeared. And he wouldn't have to think about how she should be leaning over his shoulder, laughing at his jokes, going home with him tonight, instead of Jai.
He heard skin meet skin, he was rubbing her hand, maybe her shoulder. "At least I don't have to see it," he reminded himself. Since he had gone blind there were precious few times he was grateful for the misfortune, but this was one of them.