Disclaimer: I don't own anything affiliated with Covert Affairs except for some DVDs and a passion for writing fanfiction! Story title is from the Florence + The Machine song of the same name (however this is NOT a songfic.)

Rating: T for now.

Characters / Pairings: Auggie/Annie (eventual, or at least that's the plan), some Auggie/Parker, and others can be expected to appear as well.

Author's Note: I'm doing my best to be accurate, and where I can't be accurate, at least vague enough not to be jarring. Any inaccuracies are mine. Please be gentle!

I am thrilled to be getting reviews on this story! Reviews are writer fuel, so feel free to leave more! No flames though! =)

Heartlines

Chapter 2 - On the Ground

Annie waited while Jai spoke loudly into his satellite phone, covering his other ear with a hand as he conversed with Joan. The C-130 transport rumbled off down the small airstrip in the middle of nowhere; having deposited them as ordered, it was off to wherever it had originally been headed before it had been co-opted for their operation.

The trans-Atlantic trip in the C-130 had been long and loud and cold. Even with ear protection and a jacket, Annie hadn't been remotely comfortable, and that was to say nothing of the lack of bathroom facilities. But it was the most direct route to where they needed to be, and according to the copilot who had greeted them at the base, it was one of the safest aircraft to fly the skies despite its lack of accommodation for actual human beings. The C-130 represents over fifty years of continuous service to the United States military, and has more than earned the privilege of that distinction, the copilot told her, and she had let that fact rattle around her brain to distract her from her worry over Auggie.

When Jai suggested she take a nap, she had been sure he was joking; though after a few hours the sound of the plane's four huge prop-engines had dulled from a deafening roar to an omnipresent thrum, it was still nowhere near quiet.

Except that when sleep finally did come, her worry found an outlet and bubbled to the surface in the form of fragmented dreams in which Auggie was lost, hurt, alone, or dead, and some in which he walked away from her in that parking garage, unable to see her tears, while she was unable to tell him what she'd come to say. The first were terrible because she feared they might come into being, and the other dreams were just as bad because they had already happened, and could not be undone.

The dreams had become ghosts as she'd been jarred awake by the transport banking sharply into its descent to the landing strip, and only Jai's arm flung across her chest had kept her from flying across the cargo hold, which he'd withdrawn as soon as he was sure she'd found her grip on the cargo webbing.

"Walker!" Jai called her back to the present. "New intel from Langley. Auggie and Parker are MIA, not accounted for among the dead or the survivors. And we have a source telling us they may have been taken west into the Sudan."

"That's a lot of uncharted desert," Annie replied doubtfully. This area of the world was not her area of expertise, and while from what she knew Jai had been a little bit of everywhere, she also knew some of the areas he'd spent a lot of time and this was not one of them.

"Yeah, plenty of places for a terrorist cell to set up an encampment. But if Auggie and Parker were taken, it's for a reason, and that means there's every chance they could still be alive."

"So what's the plan?" she asked.

"We wait for our contact, who should be arriving…" Jai paused, scanning the horizon. "Right about now."

Annie looked, and sure enough, a Jeep was approaching, kicking up dust in its wake. It pulled to a stop at the edge of the landing strip, and a tall, dark figure emerged. Annie's eyes widened in recognition, and she smiled faintly.

"Annie Walker," their contact said, coming to stand before them. "And… have we met?"

"Jai Wilcox," Jai introduced himself, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Annie, I believe you have already met Eyal Lavin."

Annie looked back and forth between the two men. Alpha dogs, she realized, did not play well together...

xxxxx

Sometime during Annie's flight on the C-130, Auggie woke up in the back of a truck. At least, he drew that inference from the rumble of the engine and the smell of diesel, not to mention the fact that his face was pressed to metal that was very truck-bed-like. Probably some type of military surplus; the flapping sound of the canvas covering seemed to confirm that much. It also explained why he didn't feel the sun beating down on him even though it was definitely hot enough to be daytime.

Last he recalled, it had been night; there had been gunfire, and his first reaction had been to reach for a weapon he didn't have, an instinct drilled into him during his time in Iraq. But, of course, he didn't have a weapon. He was in the Peace Corps living quarters Parker inhabited, and he was definitely not a combatant any longer. Even so, he'd tried to protect Parker, but it had proved a futile effort. The last thing he recalled, hazily distant, was being struck over the head, a fact to which his splitting headache attested.

And, as he tested his wrists, he found that he was bound. Fantastic. He really hoped Stu had bothered reporting his failure to check in, and hadn't just assumed he was busy getting laid. But Stu would have tried to call, at least… right? Maybe. Crap.

The hot, dry air coupled with the grit of sand against his face meant he was probably being driven through the desert. He wasn't even sure he was in Eritrea anymore; in fact, he probably wasn't. If it was daytime, he could have been unconscious long enough to be in the Sudan by now, or maybe Egypt if his captors hadn't gone west. There were hundreds of miles of uninhabited desert where a terrorist encampment could be set up, and he was growing more certain now that was exactly who had taken him. There weren't exactly a ton of people who'd raid a peace corps facility and seize hostages. Unless, of course, this was just about him.

He wasn't even sure he was alone. The thought blazed through his consciousness; had they taken Parker too? Had she been left behind? Or worse, killed? The truck jostled him roughly and he rolled onto his side. Up against another warm body. Parker? He nudged, but there was no response. He chanced calling out to her.

Another crack to the head, and answering darkness, was the only reply.

xxxxx

The Jeep trundled across the desert. It was an older vehicle, but well-kept and serviceable for their purposes. Eyal cast surreptitious glances at his comrades as he drove. He was concerned about Annie. He'd seen her in the field a few times; his assessment was that she was a raw agent with good instincts, but there was something different this time. He was almost certain she had a personal stake in the mission, and he wondered what her connection was to the person they were being sent to recover, one August Anderson, US Army Captain (retired.) So the intel Eyal had been given read, but the man's career record was heavily redacted, with holes and classified stamps all over it. And then it just dead-ended in a job at the Smithsonian, of all places, a rather unlikely place for such a man to seek employment.

So he was one of them. And of particular importance to Annie Walker, by the look of her. Eyal made a note to press her for more when Jai was otherwise occupied.

As for Jai Wilcox, that man had trouble written all over him. He was clearly the senior operative sent by the CIA and had made no bones about telling Eyal exactly who was in command here. Eyal was willing to go along for the moment, if only to get the mission underway, but he would watch Jai like a hawk. Jai was dangerous, of that much he was certain. Eyal never trusted a man with an agenda. Eyal didn't trust most people.

Annie sat sideways on the backseat, knees pulled up to her chest, absorbed in her own thoughts. She looked odd to Eyal, who had never seen her in anything but casual or business-wear before, and the not-particularly-ill-fitting t-shirt and desert-camo pants were a striking difference from the casual clothing she'd been wearing at the airstrip. He smirked as he recalled how she'd insisted in changing on the far side of the Jeep, cautioning them not to look.

She looked good now, suited to the mission, he emphasized silently, we're on-mission, after all; fit for the desert, yet nondescript enough that she wouldn't be pegged outright as belonging to a specific military, which could be deadly out here. He and Jai were similarly dressed, and all were now armed and in possession of field packs that would enable them to survive where they were going. They could easily pass as mercenaries, although Annie still wasn't certified for any of the heavier weapons, which was less than ideal.

But Eyal was not yet ready to underestimate Annie Walker.

And if it came to that, he had some surprises stashed in the back of the Jeep, just in case.

xxxxx

"-gie. Auggie. Auggie."

A voice began to pierce the fog. Annie, he thought, before brushing the thought aside with the realization that it was impossible. He felt his eyelids flutter open, although his eyes felt horribly dry in such a way that the movement could actually be described as rasping.

"Parker," he murmured, his voice also raspy, his throat also dry.

"Auggie," she whimpered, terrified, and the sound of her fear made him feel sick to his stomach. "I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn't wake up."

His hands, still bound, he noted, pulled instinctively at what he now decided were plastic restraints, much like zip ties, as they tried to sweep in front of him so he could orient himself. Stone or something like it, floor and wall both. The air was hot and stagnant but nothing he touched was hot enough to be outdoors. If he had to guess they were in a cellar of some kind. Or a bunker.

"Underground?" he asked. He wanted to be comforting, but training had kicked in and overridden the impulse. The reality was that Parker, an untrained civilian, would likely break down if he gave her the opportunity, and they couldn't afford that. There were priorities, and he had to stay strong for both of them.

"Yeah, I think we're in some kind of…"

"Cellar, right?" he cut her off before she could find a more threatening name for it. "No windows?"

"Yeah, I think you're right. No windows. There's a door though."

"Injuries?" he asked.

"Jesus, Auggie, you're covered with blood," she replied, her voice warbling.

"I've been hit in the head a couple times, it's probably from a scalp laceration. Do you see anything still bleeding?"

A pause, and he could feel her scruitiny. "N-no, I don't think so."

"What about you?"

"No, just scrapes and bruises. And my head hurts, I guess they hit me too… Auggie, what if you have a concussion or get an infection or something?"

"We can't worry about that yet," he said calmly. "Is there water?"

He heard her shifting, searching their cell, and waited for her reply.

"Yes, there's a bucket."

"If it looks okay and smells okay, taste some."

"Yeah, okay…" Another pause. "Looks mostly fine, tastes a little like dust. And kind of dry. Like really gross filtered water. Auggie, what if it makes us sick?" she asked doubtfully.

"We'll die of dehydration if we don't drink it. The desert can suck the life out of you faster than you think," he replied. "Drink some now; I'd guess it's been at least twelve hours since we've had anything. And I don't know about you, but I don't have to pee, which isn't the best sign."

"That's a little too much information," she said, a ghost of a laugh on her voice. Good, that was where he wanted her. Calm, focused on the task at hand.

"No such thing in-" he almost said war, but he wasn't a soldier anymore, and she never had been. He didn't know what this was, or what else to call it. "In the present circumstances," he finally finished.

A moment later, her cupped hands found his lips and he drank. And he wished, oh God, he wished that Parker wasn't there, that it was him alone. He hoped someone had noticed they were gone, that the right connections had been made, that someone was looking for them, that the first clue they were in trouble wouldn't be a video of them being killed circulating the internet like that reporter a few years before.

And when he thought of being found, it was Annie he imagined finding him.