Annie had been out of the country for the past three weeks. It had been one mission after another, without so much as checking in at Langley. So far, she'd turned an Armenian arms dealer, had an undercover date with a French businessman, dodged a few bullets in Sweden, and now she was finally, finally home.

But as Annie turned the key in the lock and opened the door, she felt no sense of comfort or warmth. She remembered when the place was at full capacity, with two little kids running around. She missed them. She missed watching Dora the Explorer at breakfast and coming home from work to find Danielle elbow-deep in a carton of ice cream, always ready to extend an extra spoon. She even missed Michael and Danielle pretending not to fight in front of the kids.

She sat down, leaning her back against the front door. The second Danielle left, sorrow moved in. It dwelt in the kitchen, where Lena Smith had opened fire. It hung around the three empty bedrooms. It made a nest in the empty hall closet, curling up for a long winter's nap.

Annie drew her knees close to her chest and thought about all the times when there were people here that missed her. How many times had she blown them off in favor of work? How many times had Danielle made her a plate, only to have Annie work through dinner? How many times had one of the girls wanted to show her something they did at school, only to have her arrive home long after they were asleep?

She had taken her family so for granted, and now they were far away. She'd misaligned her priorities, and now it was too late. It wasn't like she could just pop over to their house in California, as if it were a journey from the guest to the main house. These days, the sisters only Skyped once every few weeks, and the girls were usually in school when they spoke.

Most of the time, throwing herself into work at the agency was time consuming enough that she didn't think about it, but coming home to an empty house always brought the loneliness back to square one.

...

Auggie was wrapping up an audit when the phone rang. "August Anderson, Tech Ops."

"Hey, are you busy?" Annie's voice was small.

"For the next five minutes," Auggie said distantly, only half-listening as he ran his fingers across his keyboard. He was hoping it might be less if he hurried. "What's up?"

"I need a drink."

He couldn't control his smile. "Well, well, well. Annie Walker is human after all. Allen's in fifteen?"

"I am so there."

...

Auggie reached their table on the arm of a tall, slender redhead.

"Thank you very much," he charmed, taking a seat across from Annie. The redhead took one look at Annie and stomped away in a huff.

"What was that?" Annie grinned.

"That," Auggie said. "Was a woman with very little knowledge of disability etiquette, being taken advantage of by a man who has no interest in sleeping with her."

"What?" Annie asked.

"She grabbed my arm, insisted upon helping me, and I let her."

"This happen to you a lot?"

He groaned. "All the time. But we're not here about that, are we?"

"I got us a pitcher," she slid it towards him.

"Pretty light," he commented, filling his glass. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"The duration of my visit is admittedly disproportionate to my liquor intake," Annie admitted, then scoffed. "I sound like you."

"What's up?" Auggie asked.

Annie sighed. "You have a family, right?"

Auggie laughed. "Nope. I was hatched."

Annie didn't crack a smile.

"Yeah, I have four older brothers."

"Are they close by?"

"Not generally. My family is based in Illinois, so we touch base when we can."

"Do you ever miss them?" Annie asked.

Auggie sighed. "Being the youngest of five siblings, really close in age, I grew up sharing everything. Clothes, room, food, toothpaste, you name it. And I thought I hated it, but as we grew up and moved out, I realized that I didn't feel real without a bunch of people around me. As I got older, I unconsciously picked things that provided that same sense of community and brotherhood. But what I've realized is, it's not just about having people around me all the time that comforts me. It's knowing that I have people at all. Family and friends aren't always able to be physically present, but that doesn't mean you can't feel loved and supported by them."

"Does your family know what you do for a living?"

Auggie took a sip of his beer and smirked. "This was supposed to be about you."