Moving on Without You

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Annie grabs her shoulder bag and car keys. She walks to the front door of her home but stops in the foyer to stare at herself in the mirror. There's no mystery about why she looks and feels so comfortable in her own skin. Never has she been so clear on what she wants long term or so confident in her ability to achieve it. She and everyone she works closely with have her pegged as the next Clara.

She'd panicked for a moment after learning that Joan and Clara had run an internal op on her for five months. But she quickly realized that they had done the right thing. Before they could welcome her into the most elite ranks of the espionage world, they had to be completely sure of her – sure not only that she had the right instincts and the right skills but that she could work in a team, stick to a plan, and keep the big picture in mind. Their reading her in on the fact that they'd tested her and that she'd passed with flying colors was a right of passage; she was one of them now.

She drives to Auggie's place, and they head to Dulles for his flight to SFO. It's a "corporate move" and a high-level one at that; so everything's been professionally packed and shipped, and the boxes have been unloaded in his new home in Palo Alto. Vijay has promised to come over with his brilliant, indefatigable twelve-year-olds to help unpack and set everything up. All Auggie needs for the journey is his messenger bag and white cane.

"I can't believe you're not pissed off about Clara's lying to you that whole time," he says while they drink beer in the terminal, waiting for his (delayed) flight to board. Because she was accompanying a blind passenger, the TSA hadn't required her to have a boarding pass to get through security.

"Joan's and Arthur's lying I know you're used to," he adds.

"Oh come on, Auggie. Who am I to judge?," she says, relieved no longer to be trying to make him think she's an angel. "I'm a covert employee of the CIA, hoping to be one for the rest of my life. Secrets and lies are the core of my job description."

"Yeah, and you're really good at your job."

"Hey, you're really good at it, too," she shoots back. "And time was it didn't bother you the way it does now. The only difference between us is that I still feel the way you did back then." She left unsaid what she really thought: I'm better at this than you are, Augs. No one who's as sweet as you are could be the next Clara.

"Besides, that op that Clara ran on me did me a world of good. She convinced Joan and Arthur that I'm not an irredeemable lone wolf, and she convinced me to trust Joan with the facts about my heart condition after I had that monster attack in our office."

Auggie chuckles. "I bet Joan's really proud of herself. Neither of the previous male DCSes would have designed protocols for a field operative with myocarditis. Arthur would have sat you behind a desk, and Henry would have blackmailed you into doing all sorts of dirty work."

"No doubt," she says. "And, if I'd tried to hide my condition from Joan, she'd have found out eventually and fired my ass."

Finally, it's time for him to board the flight. She walks with him to the boarding gate, where the flight attendant announces that "first-class passengers and anyone needing special assistance may board at this time."

"That's you," she says, releasing him from their embrace.

"On both counts. Google's been incredibly generous with moving expenses." He smiles, squeezes Annie's hand, and turns so that he's approximately facing the flight attendant as she says "Mr. Anderson, right? My name is Cathy, and I'll be happy to help you board."

After watching Auggie and Cathy disappear onto the jet way, Annie gets a cup of coffee and sits in the waiting area, staring at the plane. General boarding takes forever, but eventually she watches the plane push back and turn toward the runway. Part of her wants to stay and watch it take off – to put a final punctuation mark on the phase of her life that had just ended, one in which Auggie had been essential. But she can see that Dulles is still backed up and that his plane is the latest to join a long queue. Time to head to the office if she wants to get anything done today.

Less than half a mile from the parking lot, she gets a call from Joan.

"Hi, Joan. I just saw Auggie off on his flight to California," she says. "I'm on my way to Langley. What's up?"

"Turn around and board the next flight to Kiev," Joan tells her. "From there, you'll be going on to Donetsk."

Annie's head was back in the game instantaneously. Another potential crisis in Ukraine. Clara would be her handler.

In the official history of the decade following the end of the Cold War, Ukraine relinquished its entire nuclear arsenal in 1994. CIA intel, much of it obtained by Clara on the ground in the late '90s and updated regularly, indicated that weaponizable, enriched uranium and old but serviceable hardware components were still to be found in the nooks and crannies of the Donbas. According to current chatter, some of this stuff was now in the hands of Russian-supported, east-Ukrainian rebels. Annie's mission is to neutralize that threat.

Joan tells her that she'll be working with a partner who's booked on the same flight in the seat next to hers. He's bringing a file with all the details and a suitcase with clothes, toiletries, and both inhalable and injectable versions of her heart medicine.

"Check in as soon as you get to the safe house in Kiev. Good luck, Annie."

"Thanks, Joan."

Annie boards the plane just in time. Joan had not given her a chance to ask whom she'd be working with. But did she really need to? There was only one choice for a partner on a potentially deadly op in a volatile region – a partner who would trust her even after learning about her myocarditis. She sits in the aisle seat next to him.

"Hello, Ben."

The End