Kith: (n.) Acquaintances, friends, neighbours, or the like; persons living in the same general locality and forming a more or less cohesive group.
Annie Walker had never really understood stability. Her youth had been comprised entirely of movement. Transitions. Upheaval. Every few months, just when it seemed like they had settled into some semblance of normalcy in their lives, the family would have to pack up and relocate. Any friends she made were cut off, and she quickly pushed them to that back corner of her mind where she could pretend they were forgotten. It was always the same. A new town, new neighbours, new schools, new friends.
Even after she'd left home, things had been a constant whirlwind. Determined to get away from her hectic home life, Annie had set off on an adventure around the world. She convinced herself that she was doing it simply because she wanted to, going to all of the places that she wanted to instead of being forced to go wherever her dad was stationed. In reality - and somewhere in that little shadowy corner of her mind she knew it - she was just continuing the life that she'd always known, only on a grander scale.
Instead of a new state, it was a new country. She toured the world, slipping easily in and out of cultures and lives as the fancy took her. In each new place she made friends with the people she lived near, experienced their lives when they let her in, and absorbed everything she could. And then once the newness had worn off, she would pack all of her belongings and move on to the next place to start it all over again.
Then her hurricane life had collided with an even bigger tropical storm named Ben Mercer and she had left the encounter the worse for it.
So she moved home. She sought solace in the familiarity of her sister, the only sort of consistency that her life had ever really known, and found herself living in the guest house beside the Brooks' household. She'd settled into a real career, albeit a bit quicker than she had anticipated, and discovered a place to fit in. She tried to tell herself that the reason she loved this new lifestyle was because it was still a bit like her old one. She never knew what to expect when she went into work each morning, whether she'd be sent to some South American country to rendezvous with an informant or go undercover in Europe while tailing a leak. Each new mission was filled with excitement and the unexpected, gun shots and explosions and improvisation to overcome the upsets. It was all dramatically unstable.
But beneath it all, there was a pattern.
She would get up in the morning and sneak into the kitchen, stealing a little bit of whatever Danielle was serving to the girls for breakfast. Michael would walk through, greet them all with a good morning on his way out to work. Annie would kiss both of her nieces before they left for the bus, and then when she'd head back to her room to get ready for work Danielle would remind her about Thursday night's dinner party – as if she could forget.
Walking into the offices at Langley, she would be greeted by the same faces. The security guards smiled at her as she passed, Conrad would occasionally fall into step with her for a minute for some shameless flirting. Joan would come into the offices and order them all to the conference room to brief on the next case. Jai would turn on the charm every time he ran into her – or pretended to run into her when he'd actually sought her out – and she would flirt just enough to keep him going before shutting him down the same as always.
And even when she was halfway across the world, dodging out of the line of fire from enemy assailants or turning herself into an entirely new person to keep her cover, there was always that same voice in her ear. Collected, sarcastic, encouraging Auggie, talking her through every new situation and making sure that she made it home. He filled her long days with playful banter and held her together every time she was threatening to fall apart at the seams. He was her best friend – and that in itself was a whole new kind of consistency that she had never known before.
So she would come home, back to the same house every night, and be met with the same people. Her nieces would shriek excitedly and hug her around the legs and beg her to play faerie princesses with them. She would listen to the family talk about their day over whatever mouth-watering dinner Danielle had prepared that night.
The next morning she would wake up and do it all over again.
Yes, somehow in the chaos of being a CIA operative, Annie Walker had finally found some stability.