Author's note: Thanks for staying with me! This chapter is a little long, to make up for yesterday's. We have one last dream, for anyone who may be thinking this is getting a little odd. I don't see Auggie as having any time to sleep again soon anyway. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs (but I am way enjoying this).

The plane landed in the late afternoon. The information kiosks would be open for a couple hours more, though, on account of the flight's landing. Auggie spent an hour in customs thinking up a name for himself once he was on the street. He wanted something generic sounding, however he still wanted to be somewhat debonair. As the two generally did not mix, Auggie settled with "Paulo," a Portuguese derivative of "Paul." At least, the Paulo in front of him was interesting. He had been talking to a woman he met on the plane and had almost talked her into marrying him.

Auggie smiled his way through customs and glided through the baggage claims; extremely glad that his baggage had not been lost. Making a quick detour into the bathroom, he opened his suitcase and changed from his travel clothes into his work suit and tie. He then proceeded to an information kiosk (after being guided there by a charming Brazilian flight attendant). Though it would be getting dark outside, Auggie hoped that he could still somehow catch a ride to Valmor's that evening; Auggie needed to see that Annie was okay right away. But, first things first, Auggie needed to get some intel.

"What can I help you with sir?" asked a man with a heavy accent.

Auggie smiled. "Wow, your English is good!" Auggie said, trying to sound like a dense insensitive tourist. "How'd you get to learn such good pronunciation if you lived in Brazil your entire life?"

Auggie heard the man sigh softly, as if to say, "stupid tourists." Out loud, the man said, "we learn English in the schools, sir. Almost everyone can speak it in Rio Branco; we are famous for our education here."

"Is that so?" Auggie added. "Why, that's just amazing. Well, I'm a hobbyist; I love to garden. I have heard that among many things, your people raise these great big rubber trees in order to harvest them. I've been wanting to visit a rubber plantation; several in fact!"

Auggie could just feel the incredulity fizzle off the man. "You came here just to look at trees?"

Auggie could tell he needed more. He leaned in and tried to look excited. "Well," Auggie said, "coincidentally, my fiancé is also a botanist. We met in school together. She has been doing her thesis on tropical tree sap properties, and I'm to meet her down here. We're going to get married soon; I can't wait! You know, I've been saving up for all natural bamboo furnishings for quite some time."

"Thrilling," the kiosk man commented unenthusiastically. "Sir, what do you actually need?"

"Directions," Auggie stated. "In her last letter, she wrote that she would be staying with a Val-something. He let her test a few of his trees, and kindly took her in for the weekend. I can't quite remember the name; Valdorn... Valor... maybe Val Kilmer... Na, he's like an actor or something..."

"Valmor?" the man asked.

"Yes! That's the one, Valmor! How do you know him?"

"Well," the kiosk man explained, "His rubber plantation is only one of the biggest ones around. Land wise, that is. Production wise... his crops are not to good. But what do you expect when you live in the hills; half the trees cannot grow past the temperature change."

"Where in the hills does he live... can I hire a taxi?"

"A taxi? Ha, now that is good! Senor, you would have to have a great many amounts of money to hire a taxi; the plantation is very far to the north and is where many thieves live. You can travel close to it by bus-car or boat, but then you would still have to walk a few kilometers. The stop is the last one before the river depot."

"Thanks," Auggie said, grinning from ear to ear. "But, you know, perhaps it wasn't Valmor. After all, she really shouldn't be so far outside the city away from the college. Are there any other Vals?"

"Sir, there is a line behind you now. Why don't you come back later and I will help you find your information," the kiosk man stated tiredly.

"Well!" exclaimed Auggie, indignant. "You know, they told me that service would be bad here, but I wasn't expecting to be brushed off!" He left indignantly to the groans of other people, and, once out of range, chuckled softly. He got his information!

The next step was to exchange his money for some Brazilian cash. Auggie had still had some travelers credit card money left over from his last crazy escapade, and as he stood there waiting for a teller, he noticed glumly that there was a pattern in the women he liked. Several minutes later, he had about four hundred Brazilian "real." He exchanged one hundred of it for smaller bills so he could manage bus or boat fare (if needed) and put the rest of it into his wallet. Then, he headed over to the airline's lockers.

Renting a locker took some assistance; for little to nothing in this airport was in Braille. Once a kindly attendant had helped him to the locker and had opened it for him, Auggie memorized the steps from the door to the specific locker. The locker (thankfully) was at hand level, and Auggie made sure he could open and close it a couple of times before he began to move on to his next phase. Leaving the locker empty, Auggie took both his bags and headed straight for the bathrooms.

The bathrooms were fairly empty, since the crowd from the evening's flight had left. Once the last man was out of the mens' restroom (Auggie had had a fifty-fifty chance and chose correctly, thank goodness), Auggie went in and locked himself into the biggest stall. He then proceeded to open both packs. First, the walking stick came out and his red cane was folded up and put in the suitcase. Next, Auggie re-arranged his knapsack; the tattered-looking clothes were taken out and donned, while his "respectable ones" were folded back again. He placed as much medical supplies as he could at the bottom of the bag and packed the food, water, and purifying tablets on top of it. He put his camping knife into a zippered pocket and disbursed the hundred real all about him; the bills went into the shoes, the coins into various pockets. He strung the locker key onto a sturdy slim rope he had in the first aide kit, and this he wore around his neck tucked under his shirt. He repacked his suitcase with the other three hundred real and his wallet, and, making sure everything was zipped up, he finally exited the bathroom.

Thankfully, it was a short walk to the locker room, and no one noticed him. Once inside, Auggie made a bee-line for his locker. He stowed away his suitcase with all of his own personal information. He then locked his locker, made sure his pack was on tight, and grabbed his cane. He whispered a quick prayer that everything would go well, ran his hand through his hair a couple of times so that he would look mussed up and not particularly well cared for, and headed for the door in the terminal. The first part of his journey was done.

Once outside, Auggie was assaulted by so many strange sounds and smells that he was glad he often went out to eat in crowded noisy places. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but he started tapping along the walkway listening for the sound of a motor or anything to identify a bus terminal. The air was cool; night had fallen, and people were busy rushing to and fro on every side of him. He felt like the only fish trying to swim upstream. Finally, Auggie reached a corner. Traffic swirled around him, and with no possible way to determine which way traffic was going, Auggie needed help.

"Anyone?" he called out loudly in English. "Anyone willing to help a blind guy? Please?"

Auggie felt pathetic standing there, calling out like a helpless person, but his calls were answered rather quickly. An older man (Auggie could hear his labored breathing and his deep chuckle) shuffled over to him.

"Hello, young one. What kind of help do you need?" the man asked kindly.

"I'm trying to get to the bus station, but I am lost."

"Well, no wonder! You were going the wrong way. Here, I will lead you."

For the next half hour, Auggie relied on the kindness of the stranger, and soon, he was situated on the bus. The stranger had helped him pay for his fare and had even helped him with language, telling the driver the stop he needed to exit at. Auggie tried to pay the stranger, but the man would have nothing of it, saying that good deeds were remembered before God. The next couple of hours were spent riding out towards the river depot, and at Auggie's stop he got off quickly and headed out. The road split in two directions; Auggie took the road the bus did not take. Sighing, he figured it was around midnight, but he was wide awake. Auggie therefore wasted no time in beginning his trek.

It was rough travel. The road was virtually solidified mud, and one step out of every three found Auggie yanking to pull his leg from the muck. The sounds of the forest at night were a loud cacophony of insects, animal calls, and strange cat roars, and Auggie felt not only small and defenseless but creeped out. The road curved upward, and for several hours it was nothing but relentless travel, pulling one leg past the other. Finally, toward dawn, an exhausted Auggie slumped down at the top of the hill. He took a few swigs from his canteen, ate a piece of beef jerky, and closed his eyes.

This time, he was not at all surprised to be standing by Annie's bedside. The moon was setting; its rays shining into her room directly from the window. It made Annie's pale sleeping form look unreal, as if it were carved out of ice. Softly, Auggie walked over to her. He sat down next to her and gently rubbed her back. "I'm on my way," he said quietly.

Annie woke at this, and Auggie kicked himself for waking her. But Annie only smiled. "Why do you look so sad?" she grumbled. "Where's my humorous lovable Saint Bernard?"

Auggie felt a smile twitch at his lips. "There hasn't been a lot to be humorous about lately," he stated.

Annie scowled. "An agent once told me that it helps to have a sense of humor. He was always making me laugh; now I am making him laugh. What is the deal?"

Auggie smiled wide then. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired, weak, but my stomach has stopped cramping. I threw the food out the window this evening. You should have seen it; you know, I can probably play professional ball with that arm of mine!"

Auggie looked towards the window. "That is a pretty far distance," he conceded. "I hope no one was under it when you made your famous pitch!"

Annie laughed evilly. "Oh, there was someone there! I heard him screech in surprise." Annie's face then screwed up in pain; laughing had not been a good idea. "Ug," she exclaimed after a moment. "I better stop. Auggie, what's wrong with you?"

Auggie blinked in confusion. He had started to notice that it was difficult to breathe, but he figured it was just the dense air. He shrugged and tried to reassure Annie, but Annie had gone into her terrified pose.

"AUGGIE!" she screamed. "AUGGIE, WAKE UP!"

Auggie jolted awake, and noticed that it not only was difficult to breathe, it was also difficult to move. He could move his hand still, and so he reached out to grab whatever was pressing on his chest. His hand met with a wall of tensed muscle and scales.

"AHH!" he screamed; he was wrapped up in a boa constrictor! The snake didn't seem to care that its prey was now awake; it continued wrapping around him in slow, steady coils, preparing for the final squeeze that would break the ribs and collapse the lungs. Auggie thought fast; his knife was on the side where his hand was free. Using all his concentration, Auggie stretched out his hand towards the zippered pocket, but found in dismay that the snake had tightly coiled itself against the pocket. There was no way Auggie could get to his knife. In despair, Auggie started to struggle, which in turn made the snake coil tighter. The world around him began to ring in his ears, and Auggie began to gasp for air. Then, when Auggie was sure he would die there on that hilltop, he heard two loud blasts from a shotgun pierce through the collective static in his ears.

The snake went slightly limp, and Auggie struggled out of it. Reflexively, the muscles still tightened, but with no mind behind them Auggie managed to wriggle out. He lay in the mucky road, trembling and taking in huge gasps of air. Finally, when the sound in his world returned to normal and his heart had slowed, Auggie sat up in order to thank his rescuers. But before he could say anything, he reflexively froze when he heard the re-cocking of the gun.

"What are you doing here, trespasser?" asked a low, menacing, heavily accented voice.