Title: The Sword of Time Will Pierce Our Skin

Author: Beth Pryor

Rating: T (for language and discussion of suicidal ideation)

Summary: A Covert Affairs Prequel following Auggie from the end of his rehabilitation period and leading back to his new position at the CIA. Pre-Annie. Auggie/Joan friendship with spoilers for seasons 1-4 possible. Will be close to canon, and assumes the universe of Auggie's family set forth in my previous work "Duck and Cover," although reading that isn't mandatory or necessary to get the gist.

Disclaimer: Covert Affairs and its characters belong to the USA Network.

A/N: This started as a one-shot that grew and grew and grew. The title is a line from the song Suicide Is Painless, best known as "The Theme From M*A*S*H" commissioned by Robert Altman as the "stupidest song ever written," with lyrics by his then 14-year-old son Mike. But I just liked the line.

The Sword of Time Will Pierce Our Skin

Chapter 1

"Sweetheart. Are you awake?" Gwen Hamilton Anderson sat at the foot of her youngest son's bed.

Almost unexpectedly, he rolled toward her, eyes wide and voice giving no indication that she'd interrupted his sleep. "Yeah."

"Are you feeling okay?" She tried hard not to hover, but even now almost four months into his rehab, this wasn't like him. She almost hoped he was having a migraine.

"I'm just tired. That's all." He adjusted the pillow behind his head. "I haven't been sleeping much."

"How are the headaches?"

"A little better, I guess. Nothing really bad for a few weeks. Just kind of achy at the back of my head and down my neck." All the time, he failed to add.

She took in his lanky form huddled under the blankets. "I just talked to Brendan. He said you told him to come by and get some things for the boys – your skis, SCUBA gear, Rollerblades, some other stuff?" Again, she hoped she'd gotten this wrong.

"Yeah. I thought they'd get more use out of it than I will." He pushed himself into a cross between a ball and a sitting position. His t-shirt hung off of him, and he had about four days' growth of beard attempting to fill out the hollows of his cheeks.

"Are you sure?" She smoothed his unruly hair as a proxy for everything she wished she could do for him.

"I guess some of it I could probably theoretically use at some point, but SCUBA gear? I can't see the fucking fish, Mom. I'm not going to need it." He didn't raise his voice or inject emotion. It was simply matter-of-fact.

She knew he didn't want her pity, so she didn't give him any. She directed him so he was sitting on the side of the bed beside her. "Here's the thing, Aug. When people stop sleeping but stay in bed all day, lose weight, barely eat, and have no interest in doing the things they used to find enjoyable, it's concerning. Especially when they're dealing with a life-changing injury and PTSD. And when they're giving away their possessions, it should be scary to the people who love them." She held his hand. "You're scaring me, Auggie."

"Mom," he sighed.

"Are you thinking about hurting yourself?" She paused a minute, like she couldn't actually say the words, "Or killing yourself?" It was so different from asking the standardized patients in medical school as part of an exam. This was her son. Her baby.

He rested his forearms on his thighs and held his head in his hands. "I don't know. Maybe. Yes, but this is the really depressing part, I don't know if I can actually do it – not like 'go through with it,' but actually successfully do it.

"I don't have a gun. They make you give that back with the uniform. Or maybe I do somewhere in storage, but how the hell would I find it and who, in their right mind, would help me find it or let me buy another one. I have some anti-depressants and they give me like two weeks supply of Trazodone at a time, but I looked it up. I'd need like three months worth to do any real damage, and even then, if you mean it, you don't use pills unless you have Quaaludes or some shit like that. I have some climbing rope, but I don't know your place well enough to know where I would use that. I would have a bitch of a time using carbon monoxide. The garage is way too big; I'd run out of gas first. And I don't think I could slit my wrists. Just don't think I could do that one on principle. Too much mess for you, and the whole thing is already a mess to begin with, so." He laughed bitterly. "I don't see how I can plan for a future when I can't even kill myself without assistance."

Gwen wiped back silent tears and worked hard to keep her voice in check. "Has Dr. Rosen changed your medication lately?" From her view, things had been bad for about three weeks, but she just hadn't had the courage to ask him before today. Now she knew why. She'd been afraid he'd answer her like this.

"No." He'd been on the same doses since he came to Hines about three months before.

"I think you need to talk to him. Today."

Auggie rubbed his eyes. "It's Saturday. I'm sure he needs some hours off the clock. Besides, I have an appointment on Monday."

Gwen shook her head. She usually gave the boys leeway on medical issues, but she was standing firm here. "No, Auggie. You have to talk to him today, or we're going to the hospital."

He stood. He'd heard about the 7th floor and the paper clothes you ended up wearing when you mentioned doing yourself in. "Mom, seriously. They're just going to ask me the same questions you did and we'll come up with a safe plan – which means I'll tell you if I feel worse or something, and I'll see Ben on Monday."

"Would you just humor me and leave a message with his service?" She placed his phone in his hands. "Please?"

He took the phone and scrolled through his contacts, finding Dr. Ben Rosen's cell and hit call.

Ben answered a few seconds later. "Auggie, hey. What's up? You okay?"

"I'm really sorry to bother you, Ben, but I'm having a really rough time."

The background noise decreased drastically, like Ben had changed locations. "Where are you now? Is anyone with you?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm in Glencoe at my parents' house. My mom is here. I was going to leave a message and see you on Monday, but she thought I should call now."

"Listen, I'm actually playing golf just up the road, and I'm on the 16th hole. Can I meet you there in about 45 minutes? Would that work?"

"Ben, no, really, I don't want to wreck your weekend."

"Seriously, Auggie, you think I'm gonna be able to concentrate on anything if I don't talk to you for real today?"

Auggie smiled a little. That's the kind of guy Ben Rosen was. It's why Auggie and his fellow patients trusted the guy and opened up to him. "Ok. I'll be here."

"Great. Can you text me the directions and I'll see you in a bit."

"He's coming over?" Gwen asked not having had the benefit of the other end of the conversation. "Is he worried?"

Auggie patted Gwen's arm. "No, Mom. He's just a good guy."

"Well, I have to say that after talking to him on the phone for two minutes, you look more invigorated than you have in a month."

"I'm gonna get a shower."

"You may want to shave, as well." He groaned at her from the bathroom. "Or not."

TBC