Happy Hump Day Everyone! It's also update day, so here's part three. I hope you enjoy it! If I could share my cupcakes and milk with you, I would. Unfortunately, you'll have to supply your own.
Thank Yous: Again, I want to stress how much I appreciate all the reviews and the words of encouragment I've been receiving. Also, thank you to my beta, who shall henceforth be known as Phoenix, as per her request. She was especially helpful with the Spanish portions of this chapter. And a special thank you to Kira for giving me some useful constructive feedback on the last chapter. You're all awesome! :)
Notes: There is a scene in this chapter that is heavy on Spanish dialogue. I hope I made it clear enough for readers that don't know Spanish to still understand it. Also, please excuse Annie being slight OOC in that scene; my defense is that we haven't really seen her as an interrogator before, so we aren't 100% sure how she'd act.
Bonus Points: To the first person who correctly identifies my LOST reference. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Covert Affairs or any of it's characters. They belong to USA, NBC Universal, and a bunch of people with more money and power than I will ever have. I am not making any money from writing this.
Three: Breathy
The following morning Annie wakes up to the smell of bacon. She clambers out of bed and tracks the scent to the kitchen, her eyes barely open.
"Good morning," Auggie says in a cheery tone when she sits down at the kitchen island.
"Uhn. . ." she groans.
"You didn't sleep well?"
"I did," she says. "I'm just not much of a morning person before coffee."
Annie rubs her eyes to clear the sleep out of them and runs a hand over her unbrushed hair. She watches him as he prepares their breakfast.
Auggie moves around the kitchen with ease and fluidity; it's like a dance he's performed over and over again. Every step is choreographed. He pours her a cup of coffee and puts it on the island before he turns back to the eggs in the skillet. Crunchy strips of bacon rest on a paper towel on the counter. He must have been through this routine a thousand times.
"I hope scrambled eggs are okay."
"Yum," she says.
Auggie portions the food out and places her plate mostly in front of her; he lays it down a little left of her actual center.
"It smells delicious," she praises, then takes a bite. "It is delicious."
"Thanks."
"Why is it that everyone in the world can cook better than me?" Annie asks of no one in particular.
Auggie still answers her. "You have other talents. Languages for one."
"Language skills aren't going to keep my stomach full and my tastebuds happy."
Annie's phone rings and she swallows a bite of bacon before answering. Joan is on the other end.
"Annie, I'm calling you in. The man who shot you, Rodrigo Garcia Sanchez, isn't giving us the information we need. I'd like you to try and convince him to give up his employer before we extract the information using more unpleasant methods."
"What kind of unpleasant methods?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss those procedures."
"Oh. I understand," Annie responds. "I'll do whatever you need me to."
Her boss hesitates for an extended second. "Are you sure you're prepared for this? Mentally, I mean. Because if you're not, Annie, for any reason, I need you to tell me now."
Annie's first reaction to Joan's proposal is immediate acceptance, but the concern in the director's voice makes her pause and reassess her decision. She looks at Auggie, but his head is tilted away from her, his hidden expression unhelpful. Annie's initial decision remains unchanged.
"I'll be there in half an hour," she says.
Annie marches into the office—wearing the last clean suit she has from her trip to California—practically dragging Auggie along beside her. For some reason that escapes her, Auggie keeps stalling and doing everything he can to delay them.
"It'd be nice if you'd tell me why you're so upset about this," she says, unable to mask her annoyed tone. "That frown hasn't come off your face since we got out of the car."
Auggie tries to rearrange his facial features—tries to rearrange his feelings so they won't give him away—but his frown only intensifies.
"I'm concerned, that's all."
"I'd appreciate a little support."
He makes her stop in the middle of the hallway and aligns her body so she faces him. "Annie, I will support you in anything that you do, ever. But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
"What is with you?"
He glances down at the floor, his grip on her arms tightening slightly. "You're going to be in the same room as the man who shot you, who tried to kill you. You don't see a problem with that?"
"Auggie. . ."
"And I'm just supposed to stand there on the other side of that mirror and listen to it all?" His fisted hands drop to his sides. "I have to act like I don't want to go in there and punch the guy 'til he bleeds."
"That wouldn't take very long with these guns," Annie says lightheartedly, squeezing his bicep.
The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a hint of a smile, and with that the intensity of the moment is behind them. He's amazed at how easily she can neutralize a situation, and it brings him a certain amount of comfort. They start walking again, at a slower rate.
"If the interrogation comes to blows," Annie assures him, "I'll be sure to throw in a jab or two for you."
"Just be sure to make him squeal loud enough that I can hear clearly."
They walk into Joan's office with smiles on their faces. Annie closes the door behind them and suddenly all mirth in the room evaporates.
"Is he in on this too?" Annie asks her boss, indicating the other person in the office with a nod of her head.
"Not even a little 'hello'?" Jai asks.
Joan motions for them to sit, saying, "Jai is here in case you should need backup."
"She's going in there alone?" Auggie works hard not to grind his teeth together at the thought.
"We think it might be the best way to get Sanchez to talk," Joan responds, using Auggie's question as a segway to talk about their captive.
There's a short briefing on Sanchez's background, but besides a few cases of burglary and assault, there isn't much to tell. Joan stresses that the most important question—who Sanchez is working for—remains unanswered.
As a wrap up to the meeting Joan says, "Normally I wouldn't let a junior agent go into an interrogation alone their first time."
Annie gets the message. Try not to screw this up.
Auggie fidgets outside of the interrogation room. He clenches and unclenches his hands around Annie's shoulder sling—the sling she removed and gave to him so she wouldn't look weak in front of Sanchez. He doesn't like this situation, not one little bit.
Annie takes a seat across from the man who attacked her in California and stares at him. She counts to five in her head, letting all of the fear, anger and other negative emotions inside of her reign free. After she reaches five, Annie shuts off the emotional side of her brain and starts working.
"Do you know who I am?"
"No hablo inglés."
"But I know you understand English. Even if you pretend you can't speak it."
She gets no response—in either language—from the man in front of her.
"I'll use small words, just in case," Annie says. "Tell me who you're working for."
"Crees que esto va a ser facil? No te voy a decir nada."
"Not going to talk? Listen, Sanchez, I can make this hard for you if that's how you wanna play this game."
Auggie hopes that she doesn't do anything drastic. His grip on the shoulder sling tightens.
Annie gets the answer she expects. "Estás mintiendo. No puedes hacer nada."
"You may think I'm lying, but let me let you in on a little secret, Rodrigo." Annie stands and begins to circle the table, continuing, "Only a handful of people know you're here. And I can assure you that none of those people would care if a suspected terrorist didn't emerge from this room with the ability to walk, or breathe."
Annie has to convince him that she's the one in control here; she has to convince herself that she's able to do this, even if she doesn't feel confident that she can.
"No puedes forzarme a hablar."
"You really think I can't get you to talk? I guess I gave your intelligence too much credit."
Annie knows Sanchez is small time—it's obvious from his short profile. In California, he just wanted to make some quick cash and not get his hands too dirty. If Annie pushes the right buttons hard enough, he'll give up his employer.
"Who hired you to kill Enrique Ignacio?" Any indication that she might grant him mercy vanishes from her voice and demeanor.
Sanchez's eyes start darting wildly; he's entering the fight or flight mode, except he doesn't have anywhere he can escape to. He's starting to buy into her bluff, but Annie realizes she's going to have to sell it a little more if she's going to get the information out of him.
Before Rodrigo can come up with a plan of his own, Annie grabs the front of his jumpsuit, yanks him to his feet, and forces him back against the wall of the interrogation room.
She grunts, not only form the effort of heaving a grown man out of his chair, but from the pain—the excruciating pain—that erupts in her shoulder region.
"What's going on in there?" Auggie asks on the other side of the glass.
"She has it under control," Joan responds. Auggie can hear the approval in her voice and doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.
"Who are you working for?" Annie yells into Sanchez's face. Spit flies from her mouth.
Sanchez cringes but remains tight-lipped. Annie lets her earlier anger creep into the fist forming at her side and lets her punch fly before she can control herself. Her fist digs into the stomach of her shooter.
"Damn," Jai says in compliment.
"Tell me." Annie pulls Sanchez up from his doubled-over position, seeing the fear and rage mix in his eyes.
"No."
A second jab to his gut steals the little remaining breath he has. The impact hurts Annie almost as much as it hurts Sanchez.
"He's not going to talk," Jai states.
"Hold on a minute. Just give her some time," Auggie says in her defense. He may not like what she's doing to herself, but he trusts her to get the job done. He knows how capable she is.
Annie's not sure how much longer she can hold out and act like this interrogation method isn't fazing her. She rams her knee into Sanchez's groin, knowing that it is the one area that would make any man beg for mercy.
Sanchez holds up his handcuffed hands as much as he is able in a gesture for her to stop.
"Su nombre es Lucas. Se llama La Mantis."
"Why did Lucas hire you to kill Enrique Ignacio?"
"No sé."
She manhandles him back into the aluminum chair, earning another screaming protest from her shoulder. She invades Sanchez's space until he cowers before her.
"Let's get something straight, Sanchez. This ends when you tell me everything I want to know. Not a minute before."
"Enrique era el hermano de Lucas," the man reveals begrudgingly.
That statement catches everyone but Sanchez by surprise.
"Why would Lucas want his brother killed?"
The man just glowers. Although the pain in her shoulder is so intense she feels physically ill, Annie musters the strength to deliver a nasty backhand to his face. The little bit of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth almost makes the hit worth her suffering.
"Él intentó a vender su hermano a la policia y reveló información sobre los cargamentos."
"Shipments?"
Annie glares at him and makes another fist when he doesn't answer her quickly. Thankfully the threat is enough this time.
"De armas."
"Where were the weapons going?"
"¡No sé!"
"Don't make me hurt you again, Sanchez. You are really trying my patience."
He huffs, but there's no fight left in him. "A un cartél. Al cartel las manos del Diablo. Es todos. No sé más."
"Good girl," Joan says and taps her knuckles against the two-way mirror twice.
Annie glances at the mirror and works up a smile for Sanchez. Getting him to talk cost her a lot of pain, though she'll never let on to him.
"That's my signal," she says, reverting back to her normal tone. "Nice talking with you, Rodrigo."
"Pinche puta," Sanchez swears, "¡Te mataré!"
Annie's smile only grows at his curses. "You tried to kill me once before and it didn't work out too well, did it?"
"Good work, Annie," Joan says outside of the interrogation room. "Jai and Auggie will be able to follow up on this Mantis lead. We'll see if we can recover those guns if they're out there."
"What about me?" It's not lost on her that her name isn't mentioned in the follow up plans.
Joan gives her what passes as a sympathetic face. "I'm not putting you out in the field just yet. You're still a liability in your current state. I need you healthy."
"But. . ."
"Come back tomorrow, fully rested. I'll find something for you to do."
Joan leaves before Annie can protest further.
Jai sidles up to Annie. "That was an impressive performance."
"Yeah," Annie says dismissively. Now that her boss has walked away, the sting in her shoulder is crying for attention and she doesn't have the time to or inclination to flirt with Jai.
Jai picks up on her indifferent vibe and follows Joan, looking a little downtrodden.
Auggie raises the shoulder sling and she snatches it back more forcefully than he expects.
"You okay?" he asks. "Things sounded like they got really physical in there."
"I'll be back," she says without answering him. There's something wrong with the way she says it. Her voice sounds pained, like she's holding back a whimper.
Auggie decides to follow her, only stopping when he reaches the door of the women's bathroom. He waits outside, rather impatiently, listening.
Annie stands at the sink, blotting the tears under her eyes so her mascara doesn't run. The intense pain in her shoulder throbs with every movement, however slight. White spots crowd into her peripheral vision as she unbuttons her fitted jacket and slides it off inch by inch.
"Ah-ah," she cries out, not holding the sound back. After her jacket is off, Annie sees the real extent of the damage she's caused herself. A bright red circle bleeds into the fabric of her blouse like a twisted prom corsage. "Dammit, I love this shirt."
She unbuttons the rest of her white blouse and removes that garment as well, leaving her in her pants and a bra. The square patch of gauze covering her aggravated wound has a similar red stain in the center, except the color is deeper and the circle is larger.
Auggie can't wait outside any longer. The cries coming from the bathroom are too much for him to handle without offering her some kind of assistance.
"Annie?"
His voice startles her and makes her rip the gauze off more quickly than she planned. "Sonofa—"
"Are you all right?"
"To be honest, I'm a mess right now, Aug." She hates herself for snapping, but doesn't give him an apology either.
"You want me to give you some space?"
She shakes her head, forgetting that he can't see the motion.
"I can't hear your head rattle, you know."
"You can stay. My shoulder is what's causing the problem. I think I reopened my bullet wound."
"I'd offer to take a look, but. . ." He tries to make her feel better by drawing her attention away from her injury.
"Funny." She doesn't even crack a smile.
Annie pulls a few paper towels out of the dispenser and puts pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. Auggie uses his laser guide to move toward her, but stops when he hits her discarded suit jacket and blouse on the floor. He bends and picks them up.
"Do you need to see a doctor?" he asks.
"No. I'll be fine. I just need to get it to stop bleeding so I can get home to your place."
He likes how she refers to his apartment as home, even though she's only stayed there two nights.
The door to the bathroom opens and a young woman walks in. She comes to an abrupt stop when she sees Auggie and the partially dressed Annie. Her eyes say everything her open mouth doesn't.
"It's not what it looks like," Annie says quickly—too quickly for the woman to believe her.
"I'll just use the restroom down the hall," she says. In another second the woman is gone.
"Wonderful," Annie says. "Now Joan is going to have to give me the whole 'office romance' talk again."
Auggie starts to laugh; at first it's just a chuckle, but it progresses into a hearty bout of laughter. The sound is so contagious that Annie starts laughing too, but she puts the index finger of her uninjured arm up to his lips to quiet him before they draw any more prying eyes into the bathroom. Even if the CIA encourages interoffice dating, she's pretty sure Joan won't be happy to hear about an interoffice, bathroom hookup.
Her finger is very effective in getting him to sober up. Still, a beat passes before she drops her hand to her side. Somehow they're only inches apart from each other now; it's like Annie's body is a piece of metal and Auggie's is the magnet.
He clears his throat and gets back to the serious issue of her shoulder. "You pushed yourself too hard, too fast."
"It was the only way to get information out of Sanchez."
"And it was the only way to show Joan that you're ready to come back."
"Which obviously failed."
"There's a reason she's the director. She sees through everybody. Joan knows that all you want is to be approved for field work again, but she's not going to let you kill yourself just because you mistakenly believe that you're ready."
"I don't need the I-told-you-so speech," she replies.
"Please, just. . .try and take it a little easier these next few days?"
She doesn't answer him, not sure if she can keep that promise or not. Annie trashes the towels and waits to see if the wound is still bleeding; it appears to have momentarily stopped.
"Could you help me get back into this?" She tugs on the suit jacket he's holding in his left hand.
Auggie holds up the blouse in his right hand. "Aren't you forgetting a step?"
"No, I just want the jacket."
"Suit yourself."
He holds her blouse in the crook of his elbow while he stretches the jacket out before him, holding it at chest level. Annie slips her arms into it and Auggie pulls it up to her shoulders. She suppresses a groan and fastens the three buttons in front. While her bra is visible, the skin below it is covered, which is good enough for Annie to get out of the building.
Auggie's hands rest on her back, smoothing invisible wrinkles. When he realizes what he's doing, he drops them to his sides, then pulls her sling out of his back pocket.
"I think you'll be wanting this too," Auggie says, lifting the sling above her head so she'll put it on. Annie lines herself up to make sure he doesn't miss his target.
"I, uh," Annie falters with her speech, "I think I should go before my shoulder starts bleeding again."
Annie soaks in another lavender bath. After this week, her skin is going to permanently smell like the flower. She also notices that there are only a handful of bath salts left, enough for one more round of relaxation.
The observation makes her sad. She doesn't want to use them. If she does, that means she's spent enough time at Auggie's apartment to heal. Just to check, Annie runs her fingertips over the cut on her face. Religious use of cocoa butter and two tubes of Mederma have made the once-puckered skin much smoother. She can still feel a slight bump—a raised portion of scar tissue—but if she really wanted to cover it up, she could.
Part of her is happy. She can't wait to see her sister again, to see all of her family again. She wants this whole mission to be put behind her.
But the other part of her—and she admits that part is significantly larger than the first—doesn't want things to return to what they were before any of this happened. She doesn't want to put her time with Auggie in a memory-file in her head. In truth, she's not sure she wants her stay with Auggie to end just yet.
These past few days have reminded her of what it's like to share her life with another human being. Ever since she was deserted by Ben in Sri Lanka, she hasn't been able to open up to anyone in the same capacity as she allowed herself to do with him; except for Auggie. Annie knows she has revealed more of herself to Auggie than to anyone else in the past three years. And she likes how it feels to share that level of trust—that level of intimacy—with someone and have those sentiments reciprocated.
She rinses off her body and exits the bathtub, wrapping up in a towel. Her mind keeps repeating the question she's afraid to answer: What, exactly, is between Auggie and me?
The truth is she doesn't know, and that scares her. If she could define their relationship as 'just friends' or 'just co-workers' she thinks she might be happier. But things aren't that easy between them. Like any worthwhile relationship, it's complicated. These few days have brought her to a realization that only edged the corners of her mind before: She feels more deeply for August Anderson than she knows is right on a professional or friends-only level.
Annie allows herself a sigh and makes it a good, long one; because that's the only one she'll let herself have. Whatever these feelings are she has for Auggie, she's going to let them run their course, for better or worse. If he should share her feelings. . .well, where would that put them exactly?
"It smells wonderful in here," Auggie says as he opens his apartment door. "I have good timing, don't I?"
"Very good timing. I hope you like it."
Auggie sits and reaches for the plates of food, smelling each item before deciding what to put on his plate; he ends up taking a bit of everything. He takes a bite and knows that Annie didn't have a hand in making this meal. It's a comforting thought.
"Mmmm," he murmurs, mouth full.
"I'd like to take the credit, but I didn't cook this. I ordered in."
"My apartment thanks you."
She throws a crispy green bean in his direction, laughing.
"I got it from. . ."
"Wait, let me guess."
"You'll never get it."
He chews and savors another piece of tender chicken, trying to identify the sauce. "Chen's Chicken, two blocks from here."
"Impressive."
They eat and enjoy the food in silence until their forks scrape against empty dishes. Annie cleans up while Auggie sits at the island.
Auggie takes a swig of his beer and says, "All Jai would do after you left was talk about that interrogation. I think you've dazzled him with your techniques."
Annie can sense that this conversation is not about her earlier interrogation. "What's between you and Jai?"
"I like to call it a friendly office rivalry."
"I see. So, are you are jealous of him, or is he jealous of you?"
"Oh, he's definitely jealous of me."
She smiles at his cocky tone. "You sound confident."
"Because, along with other reasons, I have the one thing he can't get."
"And what is that?"
"One Annie Walker." He doesn't make it seem like she's his possession. "He's jealous you spend more time around me instead of him."
"You're kidding."
"Don't you wish I was?"
Annie doesn't know what to say for a moment. She leans against the kitchen island, then says, "I mean, he's not a bad guy, but he's just not my type."
"Am I your type?"
The question catches her off-guard. Something in his voice tells her this is a serious question, not a joke.
"Maybe." Her throat is scratchy, like she needs a drink of water.
Annie notices again how close they are to one another and wonders how it happened. Perhaps her body is telling her what it wants, even if her brain isn't computing the information properly.
Auggie listens to the change in her breathing; she's taking deeper, shakier breaths, like she's nervous about something. The air travels in through her nose and out through her mouth. He can feel how close her mouth is to his just from the pressure of her exhalations.
Before she loses her nerve, Annie leans forward and brushes her lips against the side of his cheek, her lips just touching the corners of his mouth.
Auggie responds by bringing his hand to her face and lining her lips up with his, claiming them in a gentle kiss. He has wanted this to happen for a while, and he wants to savor the moment, so he keeps things slow. Even when Annie pushes him for more, he resists the urge to kiss her too aggressively.
Her hands travel up his body and entwine themselves in his hair. She wants him to really kiss her; she can tell that he's holding back. She never expected that he could be this gentle. But just because he's being gentle doesn't mean the kiss doesn't steal her breath away. Annie's body melds against his, and she catches his lower lip between her teeth before kissing him again.
Auggie grips her sides, lifts her up and sets her on the kitchen island. She's a little taller than him this way, and she tugs on the ends of his hair to tilt his face up to her. Auggie's hands run up and down her spine. One hand presses the back of her head closer to his lips, even though it is impossible for them to be any closer. The kiss remains sweet and tender, even as the heat between them grows.
Auggie's cell phone rings and jars them both from the haze they've created around them. Annie sees that she's sitting on the kitchen island now—with Auggie in between her legs—but isn't sure how they got in this position. It makes her blush.
She breaks away from him in stages. Her hands linger in his hair, then slide down his face and neck to his shoulders before finally dropping to the edge of the counter. Auggie's hands move from her back and head to rest on either side of her. Their foreheads rest against each other while they catch their respective breaths.
The phone rings for the fourth time and Auggie finally answers. "Yeah?"
"I need you to come back to the office," Joan tells him. "We found Lucas."
"It can't wait until tomorrow?" His voice is still a little breathy.
"Is there something that's keeping you?"
Auggie frowns but then says, "No."
"Then I'll see you within the hour."
Auggie hangs up and backs away from Annie. "I have to go in. They think they've found The Mantis."
"I guess that means no dessert."
"Not tonight," he apologizes. "Don't wait up. I think it's best I take the couch tonight."
Annie doesn't argue with him, though a part of her is disappointed.
Auggie quickly gathers his things and leaves. When the door slides closed, his apartment is cast into lonely silence. It's a similar silence to when Annie woke up alone that morning in Sri Lanka three years ago.
It's the sound left behind by the call of duty.
Auggie comes home, dog tired, around three o'clock in the morning. Joan ordered him to go home and get a few hours rest while the team—led by Jai—is assembled and sent on a direct flight to Columbia. It will be at least ten hours before they are in position to move in on their targets.
He tries to be as quiet as possible as he kicks off his shoes, not wanting to wake Annie. Even though he's exhausted, he decides to check on her before passing out on the couch.
Tiptoeing to the doorway, he listens for the even breathing of deep slumber.
Instead, he hears her kicking her way out of the sheets, whimpering softly. Her moves are almost frantic, like she's having another nightmare.
Without much thought—because he's not capable of higher intellectual thought in his current state—he climbs into the bed beside her, still fully clothed. Her hand flings out, hitting him in the chest, but Auggie closes his hand around hers and the contact stills her. She's turned so she is facing him.
"Aug?" Her voice is so soft that he wonders if she's addressing him or a dream version of himself.
He wraps his arm around her waist and gently tugs her closer. She inhales deeply and snuggles in against him, her face hidden in the curve of his neck. Her breath heats his skin, making him even sleepier.
His lips brush against her hairline of their own violation. It's a gesture he's only used with one previous girlfriend—one that he was in love with. He's never let another woman get as close to him as Annie is now. Not even Tash. Because, even though he loved Natasha, she didn't really know anything about him, not even what he did for a living. With Annie there are no lies, no big secrets. That knowledge makes him feel infinitely more connected to her, more intimate.
I'm really getting myself into trouble with this one, he thinks, holding Annie tighter against him and banishing away all her nighttime monsters.
A/N: I'm starting to think that I was really hungry whenever I wrote this. Food seems to be a common motif. *laughs*
I'd love to know what you thought. Did Annie seem way OOC in that interrogation room? Did the Spanish throw you off? Did the kiss come out of left-field? Are you wondering how it all will end?
The last chapter will be up next Wednesday. And remember, it'll be rated M, so make sure the filter is off. I wouldn't classify the M scene as being too outrageous, but I'm covering my butt just in case. :)