Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs (or, alas, a 1967 Corvette).
The room was muggy and smelled of smoked wood in the dim light. Yawning, Auggie fumbled around the clutter of makeshift desks toward the back of the room. His feet padded on the packed earth floor, and he was careful not to stub his toes on any of the scattered stools and chairs. Even having spent only three weeks in this place he knew his way around comfortably enough to venture into such a minefield with no shoes on.
He found his way to a burlap sack nailed to the back wall, and entered his makeshift office only to bash his toes against a crate masquerading as a stool. Growling profanities to the empty air, he slumped down on the offending piece of furniture wishing not for the first time that he could rely on a cup or three of coffee to clear the buzzing in his head and foot.
A rustle of the curtain made him look up, and he mustered a half-smile-half-grimace.
"Stub your poor toes again," Parker laughed down at him.
Auggie pulled a face in response and grumbled that it wasn't nice to tease the injured guy especially at five thirty in the morning.
"I can if he's also a complete idiot. Why do you walk around with no shoes on all the time," she teased.
"I told you: it's way too hot for shoes and I don't really see a point in getting all dressed up just to walk, like, ten feet from our house to the school." The real reason was he'd gotten tired of taking them off for the kids to play in, and had "lent" them to May, a particularly sweet eight year old, a few days ago. It was way too early, though, to explain all that to Parker, and she'd probably just tease him again anyway.
"Well I'm gonna set up the room. Shout if you need anything."
"Likewise," replied Auggie smiling as she turned away from the burlap curtain.
He allowed himself another moment to breathe in the dusty warmth of his office – well, his cupboard really – before leaning down to boot up the ancient machine that somebody had the nerve to call a computer. With a hiss of static and a groan of fans, the monster began its tortured process of booting up. He knew it was going to be at least ten minutes before he could do anything, so sighing resignedly, he went to find Parker in the front room. He'd given up wishing for his work computer a week ago.
BOOM! There was a blinding flash, and Annie was thrown backwards, a scream ripping her throat. Almost as soon as she hit the ground, she was up again. She screamed out for him again, and tried to run forward to look for him, but – BOOM!
She sat up gasping in a wad of twisted sheets, and, mortified, realized that she'd woken for the third time in a row with Auggie's name on her lips. And not about anything good.
She flopped back on her pillows, and immediately sat back up as the knocking that had woken her came again. Groaning, she slid out of bed with the sinking feeling that the room was way too bright for a weekday. She made her way to the front of her sister's guest house, and opened the door to a flustered Danielle.
"Annie! What the hell're you doing? It's already eight," her sister screeched in greeting.
"Shit," Annie's hands flew to her rumpled hair, and she flung herself away from her sister towards the bathroom, "my alarm didn't go off! Thanks!" The last added as a hasty afterthought in the general direction of the front door.
"'Kay. I'm leaving some coffee on the side table," came Danielle's reply.
"You're a life-saver," Annie called back while simultaneously dragging a brush through her hair and pulling on a skirt.
For the millionth time, she reflected on how grateful she was for her practice in packing up and moving out fast – even if it was from her own home on her way to work. Within five minutes, she was pelting out the door sans makeup but firmly clutching her keys and coffee. She hesitated only a second before pulling open the door to Auggie's – her – car. She knew she was risking a major coffee spill, but, really, the seats needed to be broken in sometime, and it had already been almost three weeks. After all, it was sort of his fault that she was now late.
She'd lied to her sister when she told her the alarm hadn't gone off at all. Annie suspected it had more to do with the fact that she hadn't gotten to sleep until four thirty because she was too afraid to return to the minefield where Auggie had been dying for the past five nights.
A loud horn jerked her out of her thoughts as a large black SUV cut in front of her.
"Jackass," she hissed under her breath as some still-scalding coffee slopped onto her shirt. The problem with Auggie's otherwise-beautiful car was that it lacked cupholders for times exactly like this. Annie knew that she should probably start referring to the Corvette as her car. She'd even sold her old piece-of-crap Golf, so the thing better be hers. She just couldn't bring herself to admit that the car belonged to her because that meant Auggie wasn't coming back tomorrow. Loose a friend, gain a car. But I don't want the car.
She swerved off the highway and fumbled around for her ID card to show the gatekeepers at Langley. As she approached the turn off, her fumbling became decidedly more frantic. Where was it? Shit. It wasn't there. No, no, no, no, no – it had to be there! Pulling over, she let her head fall onto the horn with a satisfying noise. She could conceivably get through the gate without the card. The guards knew her, and were familiar enough with her by now that they probably wouldn't bother with quibbles. But ahead of the gate stretched a long day of paperwork and meetings– all crap that would be nearly impossible to complete without the little plastic card. She could just sit here. She may even be able to fall asleep without dreaming. But she knew that wouldn't happen. Despite how little she wanted to go to work, it provided a welcome distraction from the less pleasant (and less flattering) pastime of missing Auggie.
So with a few choice words that did little to actually alleviate her frustration, she spun the car around and sped back towards home. She made the half-hour trip in eighteen minutes, a fact she smugly noted while barging in through the guest-house door. She found the card lying on the night stand (right next to her clock for christ sakes!), and eighteen minutes later still she was again turning up the ramp towards Langley. By this time, she was almost an hour late, and she cringed inwardly in anticipation of Joan's wrath.
Yep, if she died while Auggie was on his mad quest-of-love, she was so blaming him.
AN: As you've probably figured out from the decidedly unoriginal title, these are my imaginings of what's going to go down in Eritrea. (More like what I hope happens that won't actually happen because the TV gods hate me.) Obviously, it's going to be a few chapters long - probably about four or five. I apologize if it seems to be moving really slowly as I don't write action that well. Anyway, this is more of a prologue of sorts, and the situations will be explained more in the following chapters. Oh, and I was going to think of a kickass title, but Eritrea is such a beautiful word, and I think it kind of sounds like some of the emotions both Annie and Auggie would be feeling. Though that's probably just me... Anyway, hope you enjoy. (Review...?)