Hi everyone! This is a short multi-chapter fic (four parts) dealing with Auggie and Annie in a hurt/comfort capacity. Each chapter is pretty lenghty, so grab a plate of cookies (or whatever you like to munch on) and your favorite beverage, and enjoy! :)

Note: This was written before the season finale-or before Ben was even back in the picture-but I didn't change it based on the finale. I feel it still works. Also, I'd like to thank my wonderful Beta who loves to obsess over this show just as much as I do. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Covert Affairs or it's colorful characters. I just use them to play out little fantasies in my head and amuse my friends. I'm not making any money.

One: Breathe

"No visual."

Auggie hears the unease work its way into her voice; it's such a subtle vibration that Jai doesn't pick up on it. Chances are Annie doesn't hear it either, but Auggie's been through enough ops with her to recognize the slight tremor beneath her words.

Jai hovers over Auggie's shoulder, a few inches away from literally breathing down his neck. Jai's proximity puts Auggie more on edge than he already is. He knows how crucial it is that this mission go smoothly. He realizes how much is at stake.

What he doesn't need is Jai watching the blinking dot on the computer screen. Auggie takes the action as an insult. It's like Jai feels Auggie can't effectively track the location of the package and its carrier, even though he's been through a hundred ops like this one. His fingers twitch over the keys, following Annie's movements every time she takes a step.

"This Enrique guy is a no show." Annie's statement is sharp and clear in their headsets.

"Do a second sweep of the plaza," Jai instructs. "Yellow tie reading the Santa Barbara Times. Maybe you missed him."

"It's not her first exchange," Auggie mutters.

Even if Annie isn't the most experienced agent, Auggie has seen a dramatic difference in her field performance over the past year. She's far from perfect, but he has faith in her abilities—all her abilities except hand-to-hand combat that is. When it comes to fighting, Annie is a slow learner. He would know; he's been giving her lessons for the past few months.

"I've been here ten minutes," Annie says, "This doesn't feel right. The exchange is a no-go."

Jai removes his headset and slams it on the desk in disgust.

"This was a simple, by-the-book operation. All she had to do was locate our contact and make the exchange."

Auggie tries to suppress a smile at Jai's flare-up.

Though he never likes when an operation goes south, this time he's making an exception. Jai needs to have his ego wounded a little and realize that the world doesn't always conform to his plans. His contact didn't show, and because of that precious information was lost. Maybe it should concern him that now the Agency doesn't have the intel Jai's Columbian contact was supposed to give them in exchange for a hefty monetary incentive. To some point it does. Still, Auggie likes hearing Jai lose the cool, composed façade he parades around the office.

Auggie tells Annie to go catch the next flight home, hangs the headset around his neck and turns to face Jai. He can't miss an opportunity to rib his co-worker.

"I'm glad I won't be the one to brief Joan about this one."

"I'll never hear the end of it. She'll have my head."

"On a platter."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Jai responds sharply.

"I'm good now. Thanks." He raises his lips in a half smile. Jai snorts, then exits Auggie's office. It's refreshing to have his space back.

Returning to his keyboard, Auggie locates Annie through the tracking device on the suitcase of money she's carrying. Except the dot isn't moving anymore.

Auggie replaces the headset and asks, "Annie? You there?"

Her quickened, soft breathing sounds in his ear and Auggie strains to hear everything. From the background noise coming through the headset he forms a mental image of Annie standing in the middle of a deserted California alley.

Speaking in a whisper she says, "I found Enrique. He's dead."

The next sound he hears is a grunt, followed by a thud. There's one baritone voice speaking Spanish, then another male voice answers the first. A third speaker offers an opinion of the young American operative.

Annie groans as she rises to her feet. Auggie types furiously at his keyboard, trying to find a satellite in the area to get a visual of the situation.

"Jai!" he calls out over the office white-noise. "Jai, get in here!"

Whether or not he enjoys Jai making a fool of himself doesn't matter anymore. He needs eyes to tell him what's going on. He needs to know what Annie's up against, if she has a chance. Three-to-one odds aren't good, but three armed attackers against one standard pistol are even worse odds. Auggie fights with the mental images of the worst-case-scenario as he continues typing.

Rushing back into the office, Jai asks, "What is it?"

"Annie, talk to me," Auggie says softly but firmly. When there's no response, he answers Jai. "She's been ambushed."

The sounds of her struggle come over the headpiece. Crates and other objects that Annie uses to put space between her and her assailants crash against the asphalt street and brick walls of the alley. Every second or so comes a cry of pain—some from Annie, some from the men—mostly from Annie. Her heavy breathing matches the racing of Auggie's heart.

The satellite is still repositioning, but they don't need to see what's going on to determine that Annie's on the losing side of the street fight.

"She might not make it out of this one," Jai states.

Auggie pins Jai against a wall in his office in less time than it takes to exhale. The lapels of his suit jacket are crumpled in Auggie's fists, which shake with the desire to punch the man.

"Your contact was compromised. You were the one who requested Annie for this mission. She's out there because of you!"

"I didn't know Enrique was being followed."

"I don't care. If Annie doesn't make it back. . ." Auggie can't bring himself to say anymore, can't even think about the possibility of losing Annie.

"Get a hold of yourself, Anderson."

Slowly, Auggie lets go of Jai's suit and returns to his seat. What was he thinking? That little outburst could cost him if Jai were to report it. Joan may reassign him to a different field operative. It's his job to watch out for field agents by guiding them through missions, but being over-protective of one agent—especially a specific female agent—could bring unwanted attention from Joan, Arthur, or the shrinks in the psych department. He needs to keep whatever this attachment to Annie is under wraps or risk losing everything.

"Auggie!" Annie pants his name. She's running. "Need. A. Route."

Pulled back to the task at hand by her voice, Auggie reaches for his keyboard and looks up her best escape route to a local safe house. He starts to give her directions, but he's cut off by the sound of gunshots.

"Annie!"

Another trio of gunshots. . .

Annie cries out and falls to the ground with a hard thump.

Auggie holds his breath as he listens to the approaching footsteps. A million thoughts race through his mind, but three questions shoot to the top of the list: Was she hit? Where? Is she still alive?

The last question makes his hands clam up. He's never lost an agent before. He can't start here. He can't lose her.

"Annie!" he calls again.

A soft whimper is the last sound Auggie hears before Annie's earpiece is crushed under the foot of her shooter.

It's not fear she feels when she's losing a fight—it's frustration. For Annie, fear doesn't seep in until long after the fight is over, when she's at home in bed and reflecting on her missions. Until that time, the adrenaline fuels her and her anger—at herself and the enemy—keeps her punching.

There are times when staying to fight will get you killed. This might be one of those times, Annie realizes, rolling from side to side from the pain in her shoulder—delivered by her own gun, no less. She dropped it while fighting for her life in the alley, deciding to run instead of trying to pick it up. It was a stupid mistake—a rookie mistake—that cost her big time.

The shooter's tall frame blocks out the light of the sun so that Annie can only see the outline of his body. She imagines that he's smiling while pointing her commandeered gun at her head, waiting for his two comrades to catch up to him.

She can't give him that kind of time. If she can disarm and restrain him before his friends show up, she might actually have a shot of making it out of this sticky situation alive. Even though the man above her has her gun—and even though the bullet wound in her shoulder makes the corners of her eyes water in pain—Annie likes the one-on-one odds much better.

Kick at the knees. Her sparring sessions with Auggie come to her mind, and she suddenly knows what she has to do.

She smashes the heel of her boot against her attacker's right knee, making him collapse to a kneeling position. Acting quickly, Annie uses both her hands to grab the man's right forearm—the one holding her gun—and she flips him over her body as she pushes herself into a standing position. The gun drops to the ground in the process and Annie kicks it away.

Her attacker starts to rise, cursing loudly in Spanish, but Annie uses her elbow to knock him out. As he falls to the ground, Annie turns to retrieve her gun. But when she turns around, another of her assailants rushes her, grabs at her waist and throws her to the ground. She feels like she was just tackled by a linebacker.

Annie barely draws a breath before the man's hands are wrapped around her throat, crushing her windpipe.

Karate chop the forearm. Again she follows Auggie's tutoring and manages to break off the man's grip. Using her elbow, she hits him in the head to daze him, then pushes his body off of hers. She searches for her weapon and sees it lying next to the first unconscious Columbian.

Before she can reach it, the second man recovers and pulls out a switchblade. The sunlight glints off the blade as it slashes through the air. Annie pivots, but the blade skims off her cheek. She screams at the sudden, sharp pain. Blood pours from the wound, dribbling down her neck and onto the fabric of her shirt.

She manages to avoid the second and third swings of the blade and dives for her gun. Without thinking, she turns and shoots, hitting her attacker in the chest. Police sirens and the wail of an ambulance sound in the distance, drawing nearer.

Auggie, she thinks when she hears them.

The third Columbian runs to the mouth of the alley, sees his associates lying on the ground—one with a pool of blood forming underneath him—and decides to take off instead of staying to fight. Annie doesn't have the energy to go after him. The adrenaline buzz is starting to wear off and she's more acutely aware of how much damage she sustained during her scuffle.

Annie takes a quick assessment of herself and her injuries. The gunshot wound in the crook of her shoulder hurts like hell, but she knows it's not life-threatening. If it had hit any major organs, she wouldn't have been able to fight back; she'd be dead by now.

Blood still seeps from the cut on her face, so she rips a piece of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and applies pressure to the area, which only makes it hurt more. The pulsing pain almost eclipses the throbbing ache in her shoulder.

With her free hand, she digs her emergency cell phone out of her back pocket and dials Auggie's extension.

"Annie? Talk to me."

"One dead, one in custody, one at large."

That wasn't the information he was seeking. "What about you?"

"Still here, still breathing."

"Always a good thing," he says, though he can't begin to describe the intense relief he truly feels. "I sent a team. They should be there in two minutes."

"Good. I don't want to drive myself to the hospital."

He knew she would be hurt, but it still makes his stomach sick. "How serious?"

"Not bad enough to keep me from taking the first flight outta here."

Auggie can tell that she's trying to make light of the situation, but doesn't call her on it. He knows that it's a way of dealing with the stress, pain and fear.

"Go to the ER, get cleared by the doctors and then worry about coming home," he tells her.

"I'll see you in the mornin'."

He fiddles with the package under his desk. Auggie isn't sure how he went from a simple get well card to buying Annie a present complete with gift bag and tissue paper. Somehow a card didn't seem like enough, but now he thinks he's overdone it.

Signature heel clicks stop outside his office and ruin his plan to trash the gift and just greet her with a glad-you're-alive-hug. It scares him that the hand clutching the package starts sweating; he hasn't been nervous around the fairer sex since high school. And why, of all the women in the world, would he be nervous around Annie Walker?

Annie moves into the office and sees that both of Auggie's hands are under his desk. She slides up behind his chair and says, "Hand check!"

He grins as he brings both of his hands up, one empty, the other gripping what he hopes is a green gift bag with white tissue paper. "You caught me."

Annie's eyebrows lift in surprise. "For me?"

"It's nothing special," he says, standing and handing it over. They lean against the edge of his desk together, their bodies only a few inches apart.

Paper rustles as she reaches in the bag, grabbing the bottle and reading the label. "Bath salts?"

Auggie immediately regrets his choice. He knew he should have stuck with a card.

Annie sees his face fall and raises her hand to his shoulder. "I like them, Aug. Don't get me wrong. I just can't imagine you in a store buying lavender-scented bath salts."

"My masculinity suffered greatly."

She laughs. "Why bath salts anyway?"

"I admit to stereotyping. I know all women don't like baths, but you seemed to be one of the ones that do. Plus they help with the aches and pains."

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

His grin widens. "If all it took was bath salts, you'd be a very cheap date, Annie Walker."

She nudges her shoulder against him, but her chuckle is replaced by a hiss of pain. Her wounds are still too fresh for joking. The short pause in their banter lets the conversation take a more serious turn.

"How are you doing?" Auggie asks.

"I'm sure this is just the beginning of my injury history." She tries to minimize the shakiness in her voice, but Auggie still hears it. "Being shot sucks. And, I was able to cover up the handprints on my neck, but I don't know how I'm going to explain this cut on my face—"

"What cut?"

Before she can answer, Auggie steps in front of her and raises his hands to her face. The tips of his fingers rest along the curve of her jaw while his thumbs gently brush over her cheeks. It doesn't take him long to find the cut she's talking about.

Starting just beside her nose, the stitched gash runs to just outside the corner of her left eye. Annie watches his reactions play over his face, and bites her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She's never been touched so tenderly, never had someone so genuinely concerned about her well-being before.

"Annie. . ."

As he continues tracing the line on her face, a tear crosses his path and Auggie's thumb smears it over her wound. He pulls her into a strong hug. Let the office gossips talk; right now Annie needs the comfort of an embrace, and he's the one who's going to give it to her.

Disregarding the pain in her shoulder, Annie hugs him back with all her strength. The tears in her eyes caught her of guard and she uses the moment to rein her emotions back in.

Then Auggie whispers one word and she almost crumbles: "Breathe."

Annie listens and inhales deeply. It feels like the first breath she's taken since getting shot. After another moment in Auggie's arms, she pulls away and he takes a step back. The intimacy of the moment scares her. Auggie—the man who always has a quip or witticism—can also be super intense.

"Thank you," Annie says.

"If there's anything else I can do. . ."

"Help me come up with a cover story for my sister? She thinks I was going to California to pick up some artifact for the Smithsonian."

"And it's going to be hard to explain why there are bruises and cuts all over you."

"Right." Annie sighs and rubs her hand up and down her arm. "I hate lying to her."

Auggie thinks for a moment, not sure if his offer will overstep the boundaries of their relationship—whatever that relationship is exactly.

"Don't tell her."

"She'll still see the cut."

"Not if you don't go home."

"What're you sayin'?"

"Crash at my place. Just 'til you can cover it up."

Sometimes he really wishes he could see people's reactions. But her silence is enough.

"I can hear you frowning."

"Auggie, I couldn't."

"Why not? Just tell your sister that your trip was extended. And no one from the office has to know. It would just be for a few days."

Annie admits that it's hard to resist such an offer. She really doesn't want to face her sister just yet. A few days to regroup would be wonderful. She just isn't sure that spending so much time around Auggie is a good idea.

"Wouldn't I throw you off your groove with the ladies?"

It amuses him that her first concern is about his dating life. "The ladies can wait. You're the only important lady right now."

"How can a girl say no to that kind of sweet talk?"

Annie dries off from her bath and pulls on one of Auggie's t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. They're both a little big for her, but it's been a while since she's been in clothes this comfortable. After cleaning up her things, she shuffles out into Auggie's living room and lowers herself onto his leather couch.

Even though she's been inside his apartment on multiple occasions, she still loves looking around. His apartment is the epitome of bachelor pad, though his furniture is more high-end and the place is clean. Still, it's obvious that a single male lives here.

She looks behind her to see Auggie in the small kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer from his fridge. Inside his home he doesn't use his laser cane, and Annie thinks that he's memorized the layout of his apartment so that he can appear as normal as possible when guests come over. That would explain why everything is neatly in its place. He's even more confidant in his home than he is at the office. Annie realizes that she admires him.

He closes the refrigerator door and joins her on the couch. "Thought you might want a drink."

"You thought right." She takes the bottle, opens it, and takes a swig. "And thanks again for letting me crash here."

"Not a problem."

The silence between them is companionable. Annie can't stop thinking about Danielle and how easily she accepted the lie she told her earlier that afternoon. When they were little, she used to be able to talk to her sister about everything and ask her for advice. Now she's forced to keep most aspects of her life secret. It makes her feel alienated from her family, from the one family member she has left.

"I hate how I can't tell Danielle anything," Annie says.

"You do it to protect her." He knows it's not a comforting answer, but it's the best one he has. It's hard to keep the ones you love out of your life. There's no way around that fact.

"It's just frustrating. I can't even vent about work anymore."

"Well, you know my number. . .and where I live. . ..You can always vent to me."

Annie lets her head fall to his shoulder and closes her eyes. She plays with the condensation on the outside of her bottle, rubbing it in circles around the glass and peeling at the label.

"When I was fighting, all I could think of was our sparring sessions."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was weird. Like I could hear you telling me what to do."

Auggie doesn't know how to respond, so he agrees with her. "That is a bit strange."

"But it helped me make it out of there." Her voice is soft and reflective. The movement of her hand on the bottle slows. "I guess I should thank you for that."

Auggie feels the bottle tipping onto his lap and takes the bottle out of her hand before she spills beer all over him. He puts both bottles on the floor.

"Anytime you want a sparring partner, look no further."

"I will keep that in mind." The words come out in a murmur.

He doesn't know if she realizes how close she's snuggled into him. Not that he minds. Her body is soft and warm against him. The scent of lavender reaches his nose and he smiles. Gently, Auggie moves his arm to rest around her. His hand pushes back a strand of hair from her face, wondering how she'll react to the intimate gesture.

But she doesn't react at all. Auggie listens closely to her breathing pattern. Asleep.

Instead of waking her, he pulls a blanket off of the back of the couch and covers both of them. Auggie shifts and leans back until his neck hits the armrest. Annie's head steadily falls from his shoulder to his chest, and she mumbles something unintelligible against him.

He smiles again, inhaling the soothing scent of lavender.

A/N: If you've made it all the way to the end, I'd really love to know what you think so far. I'm still experimenting with the Auggie/Annie realtionship/friendship thing, so any constructives would be greatly appreciated. Or you can just tell me if you liked it. It's always nice to hear. I especially love reviews picking out a favorite line or two. ;) And I'll always show my appreciation with a review reply.

I'll be updating this next Wednesday. I hope you'll join me for the next installment. :)