Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs or the promo for "Suffragette City" that I've watched seventy billion times.

Prompt #25: Imagination - After three years, he tried to picture her with the little details he's heard of and picked up on.

Words: 838

Spoiler alert! Spoiler alert! From tonight's episode, "Glass Spider" so you've been warned.

I've known Annie for three long, wonderful years. I've been with her through everything that's rocked this agency to the core - the Hearn leak, the Mercer scandal, the radiation scare, Jai's death. I know her better than anyone else in the entire world.

Now Simon's dead and she's lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and fighting for her life, while Lena keeps saying she's a traitor.

Arthur says she was lying to me, but I know better. I know Annie. She'd never betray the CIA. She called to say she was coming in. I could hear the truth in her voice.

My Annie would never do this. Not to her country. Not to her family.

Not to me.

You can learn a lot about a person the longer you know them. I can attest to that.

That's fine for the sighted. For me, it's less about memorizing a face or expression and more about recalling a smell, or a laugh, or a touch. Instead of the visual, I can focus on what's inside the person.

I count myself lucky that way - in the three years I've known Annie Walker, I've never been distracted by her oft-spoken beauty. That's given me the chance to really know the brain inside the bombshell.

She's strong. Maybe petite, but there's power in her. Power enough to run in those damn high heels of hers, whether from gunmen or towards a goal. She's got the moves to keep herself safe as well - I've seen to that. After a few close calls with men larger than her (which is most of the male population, let's face it) I've made sure that she's never completely overpowered if she can help it.

She's smart. Maybe not my IQ, but she's definitely an intelligent woman - knowing over six languages, she's got to be. She's clever too, and resourceful, able to talk her way out of a dynamite factory while holding a blowtorch in each hand. That's the only way I can explain the way she manages to turn everything she touches into CIA gold.

She's honest as a saint. That's how she understands people enough to get them to trust her. Give Annie enough time with a mark, and she can turn him into a valued asset. Her current record's three hours, with a Yemeni official. That's gotta be a CIA record of some sort as well.

She's a rebel. Whether it's breaking into a museum with a MI5 agent wannabe or calling in SEAL team two to bail out my butt from Sudan, Annie's never been one to follow the crowd. That's what makes her a phenomenal agent; she can adapt to new situations faster than anyone I've ever seen, pardon the pun.

She's loyal to a fault. She'll never leave someone out in the cold, be it an asset on the run or a fellow agent stuck in a hostile nation. Come hell or high water or orders from on high, if Annie knows you're in a jam, she'll move heaven and earth to help you.

She keeps your secrets. A virtual safe, my Annie. Tell her a secret and you have the satisfaction of knowing that she'll never betray it to anyone. Unless, of course, the circumstances demand spilling her guts to save your butt. But those are mitigating circumstances, and therefore entirely acceptable secret-sharing conditions.

With all the qualities she possesses, and without even seeing her face, I know Annie is just as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside. And I've always heard that she's a beautiful woman. The techs whisper about how long and soft her honey-blonde hair looks. Other agents mumble about her lithe, petite form wrapped in a power suit and boosted by those Louboutins she adores. They say her smile is like watching a sunrise over the ocean. They say she's got the face of an angel.

I know my mind's eye can't even begin to do her justice, but that's all right.

That's enough for me.

My hand crawls up along the soft hospital blanket to tangle with her cold, limp fingers. My mind is going a million miles an hour, churning out the thoughts I long to yell at her.

I need to have beers at Allen's with you again.

I need to feel your hand pat my arm again.

I need to spar with you again.

I need to hear your voice again.

I need to hear your laugh again.

I need to tell you - I need to tell you -

"I need you, Annie," I breathe as I hold her hand tightly. "And I never need anyone. But I need you."

Then again, she's never been just anyone to me.

Inspired by aforementioned promo, specifically Auggie's three spoken lines, to which I say:

*scream* OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD NEXT WEEK HAS TO COME RIGHT NOW!

Review please, as we have also the halfway point!