Part V

Location: Brazil

The woman's entire body froze and her eyes went wide as her heart deep in her chest suddenly stopped with the single breath caught in her throat. "Auggie?" the single name burned through her tongue like a poison festering thickly in her heart. Her Auggie. "Auggie knows?"

Teo frowned, glancing around the room as if he didn't even notice the woman's obvious reaction. "So you really did not know."

"I…" her mouth was open but there were no words. "How does he know?"

The man checked the thin window hidden behind soiled, heavy curtains just beside the shocked woman. "I don't know, but I heard about Dellis and went to go see if it really was you and he was there, sitting at a restaurant with your picture asking a waitress if she knew you. One of my men intercepted him and cautioned him not to spread the name of prostitutes so fluidly in the daytime." The man's voice softened slightly upon further reading the changed face on the young woman. "He is determined and smart, if he heard about Silva, he will be here by tomorrow morning."

She closed her eyes for a moment as she processed the words. He was looking for her. The reality of the situation was...confusing. She couldn't decide if she was happy about this, hear swelling in the familiar warmth of excitement to see this man she missed so dearly and dreamed about when everything else around her was burning to the ground like the walls of hell. She couldn't decide if she was angry, fuming that someone must have snitched, that now this man she would die for, that in a way she had died for was risking everything, professionally, personally, and emotionally to come find her when she was like a putrid poison, slowly leaching away at everyone around her. And she couldn't decide if she was feeling a particular emotion she never admitted to growing acquainted with: fear. She couldn't decide if she was horribly, fully, completely scared and horrified at all the possibilities of what this new development in her very off-course plan could lead to. She feared it could lead demise in formats she couldn't stomach at the moment. She feared it would lead to her covert efforts being brought too far out of the shadows for Henry Wilcox to remain oblivious of any longer. She feared, that if or when he did find her or she found him, he wouldn't stay, he wouldn't forgive her, and he would burn away all those memories and fantasies that fueled her continuation through this hell shed put herself into. She knew this man she was so in love with would never accept unwanted aid or sacrifices for his own benefit, so she feared he would reject her for everything she ever did to keep him safe.

"Annie," Teo's voice broke her thoughts then and she slowly opened her eyes back to look at his searching gaze. There was a moment of silence between them, neither moving, neither speaking; yet a lot of information was being gathered by at least half of the party.

"I haven't heard that name in months," the admission came out watery and small under all the emotions swirling under her voice.

Teo Braga, known as the Puma to many, and wanted for years by many more was not a man of emotions. Six months ago when this woman in front of him did everything in her power to help however, he came to the realization that a master spy's relinquish of all emotive capabilities was an even bigger sacrifice than he had ever considered.

"You should get dressed," he finally spoke low in the room. His voice was still empty of all emotion, but deep below the surface he had more thoughts than he would admit to at the moment. Before the brunette woman could turn around, his eyes flashed over the nasty infection bubbling around the deep gash across her collarbone. "You need stitches for that."

The woman looked him back, her expression unmoving despite all her thoughts clouding her mind and very muddled emotions. Rather than speak, and betray her deeper thoughts, she silently turned in her spot to face the only other closed off space in the tiny motel room, and within the moment, disappeared behind the closed door of the bathroom.

Location: Romania

Auggie Anderson was lost. His head felt light, each small movement magnified to the spinning of the earth around him. His ears were ringing loudly, the shrill internal noise piercing through his skull, echoing deep inside his head and partially destroying the effectiveness of his primary sense. He couldn't focus much on it, every tiny, physical movement sending his head spinning like a top on the floor, his limbs felt heavy and gelatinous, unable to support themselves. Everything smelled...foul, but in a way he couldn't concentrate on, as if his body was rejecting all coherent thought process.

Noise. He heard noise out from the consistent ringing that his muddled mind could not process.

Pain. He felt pain deep in his bones, like a slow burning ache that was spreading across his body, in his veins, slowly saturating all his muscles and tissues until they all wanted to seize and bring him to the floor.

Smell. It smelled of something he was unable to distinguish. It may have smelled of rot, the kind of rot that grew from moisture building on cold stone and cement over time, left to germinate bodily remains and other organic matter into a garden of mildew and mold.

Taste. His mouth couldn't taste in its sandy, dry state. The skin of his lips split as he moved them, his tongue stuck and stretched in his mouth, chalky powder coating his taste.

Drugs. Deep within his delirious subconscious, he knew, however faintly, that this mismatch of sensations and numbness, loss of direction and total conscience was the handy work of some powerful and large quantities of illegal chemicals swirling through his blood and veins.

He had zero perception of time, yet time felt like years past. Had he been here a day? Two? A week? A month? His memories swirled and bled through his recognition like black drops of ink spread through his memory timeline, obscuring events. He couldn't remember what he remembered, and he couldn't think the thoughts he should think. What was the last thought he had? Was it the overbearing ache in his gut for sustenance? Was it strong grasps holding him down? Was it the needles pumping his system with chemicals and mixtures he would never be able to decipher himself? Was it the endless drip…drip...drip just above his head? The noise? The dizziness? Perhaps the echoing and the falling? The dull ache and tightness of an excruciating, swollen wrist?

The restaurant.

He remembered it vaguely, but it happened to float to the surface of his raging waters mind.

He was at that restaurant. He remembered sitting there, the chilly air biting at his exposed skin, but warm sun also making the weather bearable. He remembered the sounds, a cacophony of voices, shrieks, chortles, horns, ringings, sirens, and other city chatter and clatter. He was there for a reason. Why was he there?

Annie.

He remembered it now, and the moment her name floated to the top of his endless mind, every swirl and turn, spin and whirl slowed down.

Annie.

He was at that restaurant with a photo of Annie he had one of his buddies back at Langley superimpose brunette hair onto because of the brown collie reference.

The waitress. He remembered her small voice, the way she greeted him with dignity but never came close; the way she listened and participated when he shared the photo, and then threw him back when she recognized a prostitute.

Annie.

That was it. He'd found someone who recognized her. The waitress knew another woman who knew his Annie and she was going to bring him to her. He remembered the sound of her shoes walking away, the pounding of his excited heart in his chest, the taste of his fantasies on his tongue at the thought of a reunion. He remembered waiting for just a moment before…

The arm.

He remembered an arm pull him roughly, the metal tip of a gun between his ribs, the rough pull and shove through the city corners, the stumble as it lead downstairs, the step he missed, the fall on his twisted wrist, the crack of bone as he hit stone, the pounding on the left side of his face as he tasted earth, rock, and mildew, and the even rougher yank up and throw into a seat where he was restrained and pumped up with more drugs than he could accurately process.

Metal slammed against stone in a deafening onslaught to the blind man's over sensitized ears. He attempted to stand and his feet crumbled beneath his body weight just as someone...multiple someone's...collided with his body, painfully twisting his arms behind him and shoving him with a hard kick in his spine forward and out the door.

Now he was blind, left without functional hands, damaged hearing, and severely disoriented. If he didn't die from the dehydration alone, he didn't have much chance with the forthcoming interrogation or much more time left as a useless body in a cell.

He left his panting breaths take over the ringing and ruckus emanating inside his own skull and melt away his surroundings and pains to a delusion he built himself.

Annie. He could think of Annie. He could think of the soft, silky strands through his fingers, or the twisted, stringy strands when she just came out of the shower. He could think of her captivating smell, her light perfume, the subtle scent of manufactured citrus that blended in so beautifully with the smell of her own person. He could think about her skin, how soft in felt under his fingertips, the dips and grooves and swells and curves that made up his own personal roadmap to her body. He could almost remember the taste of her, the way she kissed him without any inhibition, the way her kiss was sweet and warm and tantalizing, and so intoxicating it could make his head spin.

A thunderous clatter of a door slamming against the wall just barely broke his thought.

He was never going to get to see her again. He figured he had came to this conclusion months ago when his denial faded away into the endless days of reassurance that her death was absolute and not feigned, yet somehow the thought resurfacing now felt more final than before.

Arms hoisted him up with impressive force, and he felt himself being pushed into a seated position, the faint reek of body odor and rotting leather in his nose did little more to derail his reminiscing.

He thought he was going to see her again, and that was what became the most difficult to swallow. That message that surfaced so suddenly from inside his own home, the message he had been so painfully oblivious too for however long it had been sitting there before Joan sent a babysitter to check in on him, was a moment of reawakening. And then he began piecing together this complex puzzle, and he could almost make out all the corner pieces being put together to form an image of this woman's plan and location. He had gotten so close, or so he thought, and now he had no hope left of finishing his own mission.

No one even knew where he was or what he was really doing except the one friend he swore to secrecy and perhaps the sender of that first call. There was no hope left.

Someone was speaking, perhaps it was a tongue he understood, but he gave it no attention. He would rather spend the rest of his life dreaming about her than letting these men who were trying to find her themselves acquire any attention from him.

Back in the southern and western hemisphere, an obvious frown scratched the surface of silence that filled the room, only interrupted by clicking and ticking of keyboard keys on a dated-looking computer. From across the room in a defensive stance, the change in the brunette's facial expression peaked the supposedly dead man's interest, but he showed little physical clues to this matter. The nameless woman kept typing however, allowing for moments in between segments of typing to wait for responses from her connections. She had two people in the area in which she had tracked down Dellis. Originally she had made deals with them find Dellis, to get information on his recreational activities after learning that he spent much time in the area. In exchange for the eyes and ears, she did some research for the two individuals who were each searching for another. She knew still, that neither had learned they were both dealing business with a dead woman, nor that they were both doing so to find the other under secrecy.

Today however, one of the young women with whom she had met at a restaurant two weeks back was sending her very peculiar information.

"My source is telling me that a blind man was looking for me today," she said allowed to the man across the room who watched her attentively.

"He is sloppy," his rough remark bit more harshly than intended, but she barely paid any attention to the detail.

"He trying to pull me out of hiding or get my attention." She read the translated lines carefully just as a new set came in. "He had a picture of me," she remarked in a slight surprise. "Someone is definitely feeding him information."

"How does a blind man find a woman across the world, exactly?" the thick accent did little to hide the accusation in his voice.

"He's not a blind man, he's a spy who just happens to have been previously blinded. Half the assets we track for the CIA are nameless and faceless. We train to lead without our eyes, and you don't know Auggie." She paused for a moment, her eyes wanted to close for a moment, just reminiscing in the mention of his name. Auggie.

The barely audible ding of her computer snapped back her attention. Her natural brown eyes skimmed the few sentences quickly before slowing just before the end in slight confusion, and even slighter building anxiety. "She says she was going to lead him to someone I was covering as an employee for, but when she headed back for the table she saw another man quickly pull him away."

Finally, Teo frowned, his expression the most obvious of the evening. "If he was taken, that's not good."

The brunette woman felt a lump building deep in her throat, constricting her breath, speeding heart rate and growing her body cold. He did not have to spell out the severity of the situation for her; she was quickly piecing it together herself.

"When was he last seen?"

She opened her mouth to reply when another message arrived in her digital inbox. Without an answer to the man, she immediately opened the message and froze.

She felt like she couldn't breathe. There were strong, invisible hands wrapped tightly around her throat, constricting tighter and tighter until she felt like her esophagus was being crushed by the sheer strength caused by her trying to swallow the massive lump in her throat. She couldn't breathe.

"Annie," the other man in the room called out in slight caution upon seeing her reaction. He's watched her on her computer for hours before this reaction had occurred. She'd sucked in a deep breath and it was the last one he'd heard from her. Her entire body froze in its position, her expression went wide, her eyes glazed over and watered, all the pigment in her skin drained completely like rain had washed it right out of her skin. He could not see the images or information on her screen, but with the look she had on her face now, he didn't need to.

"Annie," he called again, finally taking one tentative step forward. She didn't hear him, her ears deaf from the world around her, eyes blind of everything beside the images and information before her.

She'd been shot multiple times, stabbed on occasion, nearly been blown up by a car bomb, tortured in a Russian prison, and suffered so many other physical treatments she never imagined she'd find something more painful than she had already suffered prior. The single image in front of her however, one low quality, small dimension image in front of her, made everything else she'd ever felt seem like a paper cut in return. She wanted to cry, sob and scream and shout and yell into the night sky until he could hear her halfway around the world. She wanted to switch places with him, let her body take the hits, let herself feel the physical torture, let herself be put in that earth grave and relieve him of his. She couldn't breathe.

"Annie," Teo spoke much more forcefully this time.

She couldn't breathe, she knew it, but somehow she managed to choke out seven sorrowful words.

"He's dying, I need to get him."

Teo frowned openly, his disapproval obvious.

Without another word, she jumped out of her perch without even a wince as the fresh stitches across her collar stretched and pulled in the sudden jump. A phone, one of four she currently had in her possession seemed to only appear in her hands. Her voice was so fast and sharp, the man across the room could barely catch them as he watched the mad scene unfold.

Within moments, the woman had her essentials stowed away, and a plan in motion. She didn't ask the man to follow; she knew this would probably be the last time they crossed paths, and while she appreciated having another human being in her company that wasn't a target, she would spend the rest of her life in solitude to cross the earth faster.

Her plans were changing greatly, but she was beginning to realize she may not have found all the puzzle pieces after all, and perhaps even worse, she may not be the only one putting them together, and that was a danger even she had not factored in.

Author's Note:

Ok, so this is one of the cases in which a crazy plot bunny attacked. Basically I needed a reason to get Annie clued in to Auggie's presence (aka, I needed Auggie to get sloppy with his searching) and then I needed another reason for an "almost reunion" and suprise moment that will happen in part 7 because there is a key moment there. Well, I was watching season 3 when Annie was in Russian prison...and then this aorable little plot bunny just jumped right into my lap saying "use me! use me! use me!" and what do you know, Auggie was taken captive and drugged because someone thinks he's related to all these guys that Annie's taking out in her slow attempt to take out Henry Wilcox.

Eeps.

I was not a fan of torturing Auggie, mainly cause its already been done in the show, and I don't ever like making Auggie weak. But I think the poor guy isn't in the right state of mind in this story anyway so hopefully it still works.

I'm evil. ;)

- Liz