One.
They offer her medals and money and 'missions' and everything she once thought she'd ever want. They want her overt. They don't want a spy. They want a poster child for American heroism.
She tells them to shove it. She tells them to go to hell. She tells them she didn't do this for recognition.
"The Intelligence Star is the second highest award for valor that is given to operatives of the Central Intelligence Agency who have committed voluntary acts of courage, performed under hazardous conditions and for outstanding achievements or services rendered with distinction under conditions of grave risk. I am honored to present the Intelligence Star to Operative Anne Catherine Walker for her instrumental work in the elimination of the threat that Henry Wilcox presented to the United States of America." The room burst into applause as Annie walked to the front of the room and shook CIA Director Brennan's hand.
Annie didn't bother to smile. There wasn't anyone taking pictures anyway. Maybe if she died on good terms with the CIA, then they would publicize her receipt of this award. Otherwise, it was about as useless as every other award they tried to give her. And they did try to give her an impressive number of awards. They being the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America and everyone who had a thousand dollar suit and a hearty career behind them. They offered her a striking sum of money; really, she hadn't seen that many zeros in her life. Not when they were being offered to her, anyway.
The applause was nearly deafening when Annie held the award up for the room to see. Everyone would view her neutral expression as one of shock, rather than one of indifference. No one took notice of Annie discreetly being escorted out of the room by the Director of the CIA and several other seventh floor suits several minutes later.
The room was filled to the brim with spies, always keen on celebrating an agent coming in from the cold. Except Annie wasn't coming in from the cold; she was coming back from the dead. It didn't seem to matter to any of the people gathered around the free food and drinks, chatting happily among themselves. They didn't even notice that the guest of honor was no longer in the room.
Surprisingly enough, everyone quickly accepted that Annie was alive and well, and instrumental in the take down of Henry Wilcox. Everyone in the building rushed to say they weren't surprised that Annie wasn't a traitor. Tell that to the water cooler gossip that ran rampant in the weeks after Annie was shot. Typical Annie Walker. I always thought she was too good to be true. I'm not surprised she's a traitor.
"Barber, you see Annie?" Auggie asked his fellow tech operative, clapping him on the shoulder and forcing a smile as Eric Barber swayed unsteadily next to him.
"Man, this party is great. Annie is great. I think I love Annie," Barber slurred. Clearly he was hellbent on enjoying the celebration. Much like everyone else there.
"Yeah, you've had a few beers to toast to Annie. Now where is she?" Auggie tried to mask his irritation. He just needed to find her. They hadn't had a moment together since she got off the plane from LAX nearly a week earlier. Annie was likely being shuffled from polygraph to polygraph. She must have passed if the Director of the CIA was congratulating her.
"Wow, I don't know. I haven't seen her yet, except when she was up front, I think. Have I seen her here? She was here, right? I need to say hi. Let me know if you find her," Barber stumbled forward into Auggie's shoulder and laughed. "Hey, man, you know that blonde–"
"Send her my way if you see her." Auggie walked away without saying goodbye. If he didn't know better, he would think that she was avoiding him. But she was probably just avoiding the gathering of gossipy spies.
Auggie could understand why she would want to avoid the entire shebang. She definitely wasn't avoiding him. Well, that's what he told himself anyway. He flicked on his cane and made his way through the crowd, hoping to grab even the slightest hint of her perfume.
"Ms. Walker, we cannot thank you enough for your service. Your work eliminating the threat of Henry Wilcox was exemplary," Director Brennan praised excitedly. Annie could almost feel his political backgrounds coming in to play. "Your mission will be spoken about as an example to future operatives for years to come."
"Thank you, sir," Annie replied emotionlessly.
"Annie –can I call you Annie?–" He continued without waiting for an answer, "You deserve to be hailed as an American hero." The room full of suits looked expectantly at Annie, as if the Director had just said something profound and worthwhile. Annie probably should have cared more about what he was saying.
"I'm sorry?" Annie drawled slowly.
"You deserve to be hailed as an American hero," he repeated. "We want you to be recognized for your accomplishments. You've been cleared from all accusations of your name, from Copenhagen to Hong Kong. So, there's nothing holding you back from becoming the new face of the CIA."
Annie didn't say a word, but she was silently fuming.
"We want you to go overt. It is quite the honor, being able to publicly state your accomplishments as an operative–"
"I murdered an unarmed man in a dirty back alley in Hong Kong," Annie interrupted with a bored expression on her face. The logical part of her brain told her that that was a bad idea.
"It wasn't just any unarmed man. Henry Wilcox was a terrorist and a threat to our country, the country we all swore to protect and defend with our lives," Director Brennan explained patiently. He acted as if Annie was just playing the part of a humble operative.
"You wouldn't let me return to my covert position, would you?" Annie's voice took a slight edge to it. She knew the answer. They didn't want a covert operative. They didn't want a spy. They wanted a poster child for American heroism.
"I'm offering you a much better position. How else could you showcase your accomplishments? This–"
"You keep talking about my accomplishments. Killing is not an accomplishment. What I did is not something to be proud of. I did what I had to do to keep myself, my friends, and my country safe. But that does not mean I am proud of it." Annie stood up suddenly, causing the Director to startle. She tossed him her medal and he moved his hands up just in time to catch it. "Take this and shove it. All of you can go to hell. I didn't do this for recognition. Consider this my resignation from the CIA. Thank you for all the opportunities," Annie concluded sarcastically and walked out of the office.
Auggie adjusted his grip on his electronic cane, feeling the pulses that indicated the walls and desks throughout the hall. No one had seen Annie since she received the medal, so he assumed she went home. He didn't let himself remember that "home" for her meant a hotel room until her entire life could be sorted out. Auggie pushed open the glass door of his office and heard a quiet intake of breath.
"Auggie!" Annie gasped.
"Annie," Auggie greeted as he moved toward his desk where he kept his messenger bag. "Patron's in the bottom drawer, but that party of yours sure had some good wine."
"Aug," Annie trailed off, still not sure of what she was going to say. She felt like an idiot, now, getting caught in Auggie's office, about to write a goodbye note.
"Where were you?" Auggie stood uncertainly in front of her, hands fidgeting with his cane.
Annie let out a half-sob, half-laugh. "Telling the Director of the CIA to go to hell."
"Why would you do that?" His stomach churned in anticipation of her answer.
"They wanted me overt. They wanted me to showcase my accomplishments," Annie's voice took on an edge of hysteria.
"So you quit?"
"Yeah."
"So you're leaving?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you going?"
"You're a spy. You'll figure it out," Annie breathed. They stood in strained silence for a few moments longer. Auggie opened his mouth, only to close it and take a harsh deep breath.
"I love you, Annie Walker."
"Yeah." Annie stepped forward and kissed Auggie on his cheek. "But you shouldn't. I'm not coming back."
Even though she hesitated, Annie didn't turn around as she walked out of Langley.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I've decided to expand on this story. Each of the original parts is a separate chapter.
The Intelligence Star is an actual award, and it is pretty amazing to read the experiences of what real CIA officers have done to achieve it.