a/n: All things must come to an end. This is the final installment of The Insomnia Trilogy. I hope you all enjoyed reading these oneshots as much as i enjoyed writing them. Fun fact: i wrote One A.M. at one a.m. and Two A.M. at two a.m. and Three A.M. at three a.m. of the same morning (i am clearly raked with some insomnia of my own haha). As for my writing, i don't have any set-in-stone future story plans, but i have a Moleskin notebook bursting of notes and scribbles and ideas so i will pursue one of those sooner or later (procrastination is really a bitch). Until then, happy reading!

Disclaimer: Covert Affairs and it's characters are associated with USA Network (characters welcome). All rights reserved, including Auggie (i wish he was mine heehee).

Three A.M.

He breaks at three a.m.

She loses it at three a.m.

There is no way he can exist another moment. Not one more temporary fix can hold him over. He is addicted.

There is no chance she could continue living; no way she could see past her self inflicted mind games. She was going insane.

He fought to free himself the sheet tangled around his boxer-clad legs, suffocating and drenched in sweat. This had to be the most miserable night of his life. What was he thinking? Even if she loves him back, he has obviously created something he shouldn't have, some sort of distress in her life and she is-

Furious. She can't sleep, eyes trained on her ceiling fan in the dark room. Insomnia is in full swing and she swears she'll have her revenge. He deserves every coffee-induced mental break down in history for what he is doing to her. She can't just lie here in the dark for another second. Three a.m.? Please. It's practically not worth going to sleep at all at this point. She can only hope that he is-

Miserable. He hasn't slept since the day he told her. He just wants to sleep. If Annie hadn't taken away his sleeping pills, he would have downed the bottle.

He has to see her. He doesn't need a fix, he needs a permanent solution. She is the only solution there is; she is the cure.

Her eyes burn from lack of sleep. Her limbs are heavy and her body protests, loudly, the sleepless state she was in. She has to do something. She needs to end the lunacy. He is the only solution there is; he is the cure.

He's had entirely enough. Throwing back the sheet, he moved to his wardrobe snatching a random pair of sweatpants from his clothes and throwing them on over his boxers in a hurry, stumbling about the room to pull them on. He quickly throws on a tank top and steps into his ratty slippers before grabbing his electronic cane and slipping out of his bedroom.

This is almost as insane as his one a.m. stalking of her window. This is twice as crazy and half as planned out and if she wasn't pissed before, this was enough to end his pathetic existence. Put him out of his misery.

It's a win-win from his perspective.

She pulls a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts she wore to bed, and holding her breath, padded to her bedroom door. This was it. This was her one chance to prove she wasn't crazy and end the insanity.

She could have crawled out the window (she is a CIA agent after all) but she feared she might stumble and the fall would knock some sense into her and she'd change her mind at the last moment. She couldn't afford that now; it was much too late. She let herself out the door and, barefooted, she realized, made a dash for Auggie's apartment. Which is all the way across town.

This is a bad idea waiting to happen.

Oh, this is a bad idea waiting to happen.

He let himself out of his apartment, making sure the door isn't locked from the inside incase he makes it back alive and needs to get in before dawn breaks. The early morning breeze feels wonderfully refreshing and he solemnly swears he'll never have to feel the summer breeze while coming down from a caffeine buzz ever again.

Nasty stuff, really.

This is insanity. This is madness. Of course, he'll never admit that this is clearly all her fault.

This is clearly all his fault.

That's what she decides as she glances overhead at the blinking yellow traffic lights. She's never seen those lights anything but red in the years she's lived here. She should never have learned they were only yellow in the early mornings. These sort of things are fabled and joked about with normal sane people who are asleep at three a.m.

Why isn't he asleep? He must be crazy, because now he is inhaling Jo Malone grapefruit. In the middle of the night—well, morning now. He is standing on the crosswalk in the middle of the city but all he can smell is her damn perfume. He really is going insane. He knows she is nowhere near here; in fact, she is probably curled up in bed like he should be. But he swears he can smell the perfume and hear her soft sighs. He's lost it. His mind is gone—lost to sleep deprivation and too many cups espresso.

Yes, he knew he swore them it but the stuff is pumping in his very veins by now and it's like turning down oxygen. He just can't do it.

She looks down the street and—oh wow, she must really be crazy because she swears from the shadows cast by the moonlight and the streetlamps that he is standing there on the on the opposite sidewalk of the street staring at a spot somewhere off her left shoulder with the most adorably puzzled expression etched on his face. At three in the morning? Not likely—

"Annie?"

-but apparently,

"Auggie."

Probable.

"Annie, what are you doing out at three in the morning?"

She crossed the street with quick, graceful steps to meet him on the other sidewalk. The pavement feels cool under her toes and she sighs at the feeling. She places a hand on his arm to tell him she is near.

"I could ask you the very same thing, buddy."

She gives him a fleeting smile, sleep demanding control suddenly. Oh sure, now she's tired.

He reaches up to take her hands. "Annie, about what I said…"

"What you said? Do you have any idea what you've done to me?" She raises her voice ever so slightly, staring at him wide-eyed.

His eyebrows narrow slightly, "Done to you? Annie! I haven't slept in-"

"You haven't slept? I haven't slept! Do you know what you've done to me?"

"You don't understand-"

"Auggie! You idiot! You've changed everything!" She squeezes his hands, searching his eyes in the moonlight. He sighs, shoulders relaxing.

"Things sucked before, Annie. I can't be just your friend or your coworker or your handler. I can't let you leave on some stupid mission and be gone for weeks without at least telling you this first," A somewhat sane smile graces his features and she melts all over again. "I love you, Annie Walker. I really, honestly love you. More than you'll ever know."

She is beside herself. She is furious and frustrated and sleep-deprived and—she internally explodes with happiness, looking down at their intertwined hands.

"I love you too, you idiot," she whispers, eyes slowly rising to meet his again. He thinks he hears her laugh softly to herself as he smiles down at her, practically falling asleep in his arms. In the moonlight, he imagines, she looks just like angel. His smile spreads astonishingly quickly to engulf his whole face as he releases her hands, snatching her up by her waist to spin her around.

"You do? You really do. Oh god, you do." He sets her down on her bare feet, giddy with excitement, body still pressed as close to hers as possible.

"Ugh, don't spin, please. I'm exhausted." Her body feels three times as heavy and her eyes droop. At least he doesn't look much better either. She nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck and realizes there is a small problem.

They are sleep-deprived and standing on a sidewalk in their pajamas in the middle of DC at three something in the morning and they are both clearly insane. But at least now they are together… and maybe everyone can finally get some well-deserved sleep.

a/n: As always, please review :) i hope you will look forward to any future stories of mine! Thanks once again to you all!