Here's the next step in Auggie's journey. Hope that you like it.
I've been asked to give a timeline. He's roughly 7-8 weeks post trauma and 6-7 weeks into his training. In my timeline it's the last half of June 2008.
Once again I must acknowledge the corrections and suggestions that resourceress7 (Marisa Bennett) has made to this piece of fiction.
And, I must also acknowledge that I do not own any part of Covert Affairs, or Auggie or Joan Campbell. They belong to the writers of Covert Affairs. sigh The only one that I'd like to own is Auggie as played by the most awesome Christopher Gorham.
Chapter Ten – An Offer
Ever since Charles had shown him the computer setup that made it possible for him to access computers and other technologies, he spent as much time as he couldin the computer lab, practicing with the voice-output screen reader and refreshable Braille display.
With the Internet literally at his fingertips, he could read about just about any topic of interest. With the option of using voice output to either preview or help confirm what he was reading in Braille, at least he could use accurate context information to decipher each Braille character. But it was going to take a lot of work to get to a point where he'd be able to read Braille as well as he used to read print. This was far more satisfying than the tedious pages of drills that the Braille instructor gave him to read.
Auggie sat with headphones only partially covering his ears. He liked to be able to hear what was going on around him as well as the computer's voice. His right index finger paused on the ALVA Braille display as he tried to discern the meaning of the symbol that he'd just located. From the context of the article and the letters surrounding it he thought that it must be the contraction for the letters T H E.
He was finally beginning to quickly discriminate the different simple alphabet letters from each other, and the symbol that turned A-J into numbers, as well as the basic punctuation symbols – what the instructor had told him was known as Grade 1, or uncontracted, Braille. That's kid stuff, and only beginners use it. He'd been advised that nearly all reading materials – books, magazines, menus, labels on doors and elevator buttons, and so on – are rendered in a contracted code called Grade 2 Braille. Since Braille takes up much more space than print, Grade 2 is more efficient to produce, and allows for increased reading speed over Grade 1. Most Braille users write in Grade 2 when using Braille equipment to produce text, whether in hard copy or electronic format.
But now that he was tackling Grade 2, Auggie found that the multitude of symbols for various words and letter combinations, and the rules for how to use them, were driving him nuts. He had to admit that the Braille instructor's lessons were great for learning things step by step, but Auggie was impatient with the amount of time that it was taking and wanted to get it down pat yesterday so that he could go on and learn the mathematics and computer Braille codes. With all of that, and his background and education, he felt that he might just be able to get a job in the real world and at least be able to earn some sort of a living.
He heard the computer lab door behind him open, grateful for the brief mental distraction.
"Auggie?" The questioning female voice sounded familiar, but at the moment, he could not place it.
"Yeah, it's me," he said, knowing that it might have been a blind resident who had asked.
"It's Joan, Auggie. May I come in?"
He searched his mind for a visualization of the Joans that he'd known, then had a glimmer of recognition. "Joan Campbell?"
"Yes, it's good to see you."
He stood from the table where he'd been sitting, turning toward the sound of her voice. He was embarrassed that he had not immediately known who she was and stammered, "Yes, of course, Joan. Please come in." A moment of uneasiness passed over him. What could have brought the head of the DPD out to see him? Absentmindedly, he ran his hands down the front of his jean-clad thighs.
"Come in. Have a seat," he said as he gestured towards the chair a little further down from him at the table. He heard Joan pull the chair out and settle into it. He slowly inched his right leg back until it connected with the seat of the chair he'd just risen from, and turned it to angle toward Joan. He sat and leaned forward slightly, forearms on his knees, hands loosely clasped, and head slightly bowed.
After a moment of awkward silence where Auggie practically felt her looking him up and down, she said, "You're looking better than I thought you might. How are you doing?"
"How did you expect me to look?" he asked warily. "The only thing that the damned IED messed up was my sight. The rest of me is just fine." He didn't mean his words to come out as harsh as they sounded to his ears.
"I didn't mean it that way. It's just… you look much more… relaxed than I thought that you'd be."
"It's been over six weeks now. This," he said, making a vague gesture in front of his face, "is beginning to feel 'normal'. I would still give anything not to be this way, but I am and there's not a damn thing I can do but learn to cope with it the best that I can. Some things are starting to become almost second-nature now, but it's not always easy."
"I'm glad to hear that you're starting to adjust. I'd heard that you were being … well … difficult."
"You did? Where did you hear that?" he couldn't keep the shock that she'd been checking up on him out of his voice.
"Even here the walls have ears," Joan said softly. "I was waiting for the right time to come and visit you. To see for myself how you were getting along. I went to Walter Reed to see you, but you'd already been released to here. I would have come here sooner, but I wanted to respect your privacy. When I learned that you didn't want family around, I figured that a boss wouldn't be high on the list either."
"So, why are you here now?" A troublesome nervousness was beginning to invade his mind again. What was her real agenda? Was she here to offer him his severance package? He'd been waiting for that to happen. What good was he now to the CIA?
"So that I knew that you were ready for the next step."
"And that is?" he asked guardedly, his curiosity now piqued.
"In the next few days, the Company psychiatrist will come to visit you. Please cooperate with her. Your future could depend on her assessment."
"My future?" Auggie couldn't keep the astonishment from his tone.
"There will be an opening coming up in the very near future. We are strongly considering you for it."
"What? Why?"
"You are being considered to head the Technical Support Operations section at the DPD," Joan stated confidently. "Your knowledge and the skills that you possess as Special Forces and as a former Field Officer are far too valuable for the Company to lose. We need to know if you are emotionally ready to step into the position now, or if we need to give you a few more weeks, or months, before you can assume your new duties. We need to know how long we have to get the new technology in place for you."
"Joan, don't!" he said brusquely. "What if I don't want your pity job? I may be blind now, but I do still have some pride."
"Is that what you think this position is?"
"Yeah," he whispered lowering his head uneasily. "What good am I to you now?" His hands were beginning to tremble with his growing discontent. He did not want her pity let alone that of the Company. Hadn't he spent long enough pitying himself?
He startled slightly at the light touch on his forearm. A firm touch under his chin raised his head.
"August Anderson," Joan said sharply, "this is not – I repeat NOT – a pity position. Did you not hear me a moment ago? We do not want to lose you. We thought that we had when we heard that you'd been involved in an IED explosion." She paused for a moment. "Sighted or blind, you are a valuable member of the Company. We WANT you back, Auggie. We want you back."
Those damn tears were threatening to flow again. He took a deep ragged breath. "Thanks, Joan," was all that he could say.
"Auggie?" Marissa asked from the doorway. "Is everything all right?"
He inhaled deeply once again, then shakily said, "Yes, Marissa. Everything is just fine."
"It's time for our excursion into town. Or, do we need to postpone it?"
"Joan, are we through here?"
"Yes, we can be," Joan said as she stepped away from him. "You're Marissa, the Orientation and Mobility specialist, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Is it okay for me to talk to her, in private, for a minute?" Joan asked.
"No. If you want to talk to her about me you can do it right here in front of me."
"Okay." He heard a rustle of fabric and the sound of Joan's heels on the tile floor as she took a few steps towards the door and Marissa. He heard Marissa enter the room and the door close behind her.
"When will you be taking Auggie into DC and to his apartment so that you can help him re-learn his way around in those environments?" Joan asked quietly.
"In the next week or so. Why?"
"He'll need one other location on that agenda. He'll need to re-learn his way around our company headquarters in Langley," Joan stated with confidence. "This information is classified. We've done a background check on you and you've been cleared to enter any area of the building that Auggie will need to know. You will have to sign confidentiality and non-disclosure statements."
"Joan, I haven't said that I'll take the job!" Auggie exclaimed defensively. The position was tempting, but he knew that he still had a lot to learn before even considering it – the Braille math and computer codes. His mind was swimming with expectation. And trepidation.
"You know that you'll take it. You're no fool,and you'd be one if you turned it down," Joan argued.
Auggie turned in his chair and slowly swept his hand along the side of the desk. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed and wanted to get out of the room. When he'd located the folded white cane that was between the edge of the ALVA display and the wall on the desk, he stood up. "Marissa, we have work to do. Joan, I was nice of you to stop by. I am no fool, but I have not yet decided if I want that job."
"Auggie," Joan sounded surprised.
Without another word, Auggie pushed past Marissa and out the door. He easily made his way through the outer room and when he reached that door he paused just long enough to shake his cane out and tap it twice on the floor to ensure that it was securely locked together. He then walked confidently down the hall cane tapping a deliberate cadence. He was at the same time thrilled to know that he had a job, and angry at the Agency for its role, albeit indirect, that led to his being blinded. Maybe if they hadn't refused his Close and Continuing with Natasha he wouldn't have fled to Iraq. He needed to think, but not right now. He needed to concentrate on his cane work out in the real world – the world that was beyond the walls of the rehab center. He'd lost time while he was being, as Joan had put it – difficult.
As he made his way down the now very familiar hall, his mind drifted to the Braille he'd been focused on before Joan showed up. He felt his jaw clench with determination has he vowed silently that he would master Grade 2 and the computer codes before he moved back to DC. He knew that literacy and computers were the keys to his survival, both personal and professional, in whatever he made of his new life. Joan had introduced an option that hadn't occurred to him before: Tech Ops. But would he even want to be back there, knowing he could never be a Field Officer again?
I know that some of you want to see more of Auggie's humor. I tried, but this chapter didn't lend itself to much ot it. I tried to have him be witty and sarcastic with Joan, but it just didn't work for me. I hope that you'll find the humor that you'd like in the next chapter. Another one of Auggie's brothers show up.
Please read and review. The muse feeds on reviews and needs to be fed. Muse is very hungry.