[AU] ... from the 'meet at a different time' meme

[freshoffthefarm]

After two years at the Agency, Annie's job hadn't gotten any better (or worse). Sure, it had it's downsides - namely, being shot at (or being shot), but the biggest one had to be the Agency parking lot.

She could never, ever find a parking spot

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[fakes_death]

Clay's morning was always very routine. He woke up, took a shower, got dressed in whatever suit wasn't at the cleaners, had a cup of coffee with his newspaper then got in his Aston Martin and drove to the office. Depending on traffic, he'd arrive at the guard sack sometime between 20 minutes and an hour later. He'd say 'hello' to whoever was keeping watch that day, then be in his parking space and at his desk ten minutes later.

Today was all going according to plan until he heard that unmistakable sound of his rear bumper coming into contact with someone else's front bumper.

When he got out of the car to see who it was he was not happy.

[freshoffthefarm]

Not how things were supposed to go. Not at all. And though she'd been in far worse situations and had far worse days? For some reason, hearing the crunch that came with hitting someone else's fancy, expensive car just made her want to cry.

Sucking it up, she took a deep breath, pushed her emergency flashers and pushed open her door. Four inch heels, short skirt and a blouse that was probably questionable in terms of professional? Fine. She'd accidentally left her blazer on her backseat. It was spring.

"Are you okay?" First things first.

[fakes_death]

"I'm fine. My four hundred thousand dollar car is not." Clay was not happy, not at all and he planned on making that known. So much so that he wasn't even going to ask how she was.

He did look her over quickly. She was young and she must be new.

[freshoffthefarm]

His expression kind of pissed her off because, let's face it: "Four hundred thousand dollars? Who drives a four hundred thousand dollar car around here? Who can afford that kind of car?"

She walked closer and gave the car a longer look. The damage wasn't really that bad, maybe a thousand dollars. Okay, fifteen hundred if she pushed it or the paint job was custom. Of course, with that price tag, it probably was. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Compensating, indeed.

[freshoffthefarm]

Annie had been right. The deep cover op was going to go down whether or not she felt entirely comfortable in her own skin for it and it was going to go down six days from today. She had six days to put all her affairs in order and the CIA had six days to pull all other assets from the Eastern European country that she was supposed to go and become comfortable in.

When Joan told her there was a meeting upstairs that she needed to attend, and that the entire morning had been a shitstorm for everyone involved so watch her step and keep her mouth shut, Annie gathered up her leather notebook, a pen and went to do as she was told.

In the smallest conference room on the 7th floor, Annie stood in the corner looking out over the view of the parking lot and waited.

[fakes_death]

Clay was five minutes late for the meeting with the operative from the DPD that Joan recommended. Joan told Clay the person in question was her best. He trusted Joan to make that call.

The look on his face when he saw Annie Walker standing in the conference room was pure surprise. He doubted he could hide it if he wanted.

"Ms. Walker," Clay said by way of greeting before sitting at the table in the center of the room and putting his pile of files on the table.

[freshoffthefarm]

"Director Webb."

Annie blinked, then looked at the door as if the universe was going to send her someone else to deal with because frankly, this was bordering on ridiculous. She hadn't seen the man in two years of working at the Agency (she didn't think), and now, her day was centered around him.

Since he'd chosen the head of the table, she sat directly to his right and set her notepad on the table in front of her. Then she waited.

[fakes_death]

Clay opened the top file that contained the mission brief before sliding a second copy over to Annie.

"When our bumpers made contact earlier, I was in the middle of trying to smooth over events in Eastern Europe that got out of hand. My operative there said that my three informants were killed, and she was on the verge of being found out. That's when we decided we need a new operative and a new approach."

[freshoffthefarm]

Five and a half months later, Annie Walker sat in a reception room at two-thirty in the morning, exhausted. The op had gone off without much of a hitch at all. Joan would be proud of her, the Agency would be proud of her and she was supremely proud of herself.

Physically, she was grimy; she just felt it. From head to toe, she knew she looked all the worse for wear. Dark hair, circles under her eyes and she'd lost something close to fifteen pounds on a body that didn't have fifteen pounds to lose. Her smile was still there, though, as she talked back and forth with the agents who were debriefing her, even as her body ached and her mind screamed for twenty straight hours of sleep.

At the spot she was in, she didn't care if she showered first.

[fakes_death]

Clay sat on the other side of the mirror in the reception room watching Annie. He was proud of her and proud of what they accomplished. She was right, and he was able to put his faith in her. That was something he wouldn't soon forget.

When it was over, he got up from his seat and headed into the hallway wanting to speak to her privately after the debrief.

[freshoffthefarm]

In the hall, Annie shook everyone's hand and then sighed as she turned to go, one last man in a suit standing in her way. It shouldn't have caught her eye that he was wearing the same suit tonight that he had been the day that she'd hit his car, but it was and it did and she almost grinned.

The most she managed was a weak half-smile.

But she waited until everyone else had gone their separate ways before clearing her throat, raising her eyebrows and waiting. Then she spoke. "You're up late."

[fakes_death]

Clay had no idea that he was wearing the same suit that he wore when she hit his car.

"Of course I am. I said I'd see you when you got back." Unlike Annie, he did smile fully.

"Do you have time to answer a few more questions in my office?"

[fakes_death]

After the Agency's requisite two weeks leave, Clay sent Annie an email asking her to meet him for coffee, after work, in a small coffee shop near his condo in Alexandria.

It would give them enough space away from work to actually talk to one another away from the CIA's influence. He also hoped it would cut back on Annie calling him 'Sir.'

Around 7PM he sat on the right side of the shop facing the front door, Annie's coffee already ordered and waited.

[freshoffthefarm]

Two weeks had given Annie time to have her hair dyed back to it's regular color and to put a little weight back on. It relieved some of the gaunt look in her face and when she arrived at the coffee shop, she looked a little more like the woman he'd first met - minus the Golf.

She'd driven the Corvette to the coffee shop, which happened to be her first Monday back. Seeing him in the corner, she gave him a smile and approached, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

"Mr. Webb," she said, still not quite ready to call him Clay and not about to call him 'Director' in a public place. Sliding into the seat opposite him, she said, "How've you been?"

[fakes_death]

Clay smiled softly when he saw Annie enter the shop. She looked much better as a blonde and healthier since she had real food to eat for two weeks. "I'm doing pretty well, and you look like you're doing better."

He wasn't about to stretch it to well, unless she did.

"And Clay is fine," he said as the waitress dropped off Annie's drink.

[freshoffthefarm]

"Better is a good way to put it. I'm definitely eating better and I've never been so grateful for good coffee in my life."

She took a long drink of the cup that had been set in front of her and then thanked him for it. "Clay, then. I don't want to cross any professional lines."

[fakes_death]

Clay sent another email to Annie similar to the first only this time, asking to meet for drinks. He planned on picking her up this time.

He was surprised when he got the Agency auto responded. The surprise came mostly from the proximity of this mission to her deep cover op. So he'd have to put off drinks for another few days. It'd be worth it.

[freshoffthefarm]

Two days after he got her auto-respond, he got an actual response. This one said that she'd love to meet her for drinks and since he knew where she lived, she had no problems with him picking her up. He just had to give her a date and time.

[fakes_death]

Clay picked Friday evening and selected a classic cocktail bar, dim lighting, quiet environment and open late enough that if they wind up talking no one had to get up in the morning.

He arrived at her door and rang the bell, dressed in his usual suit, navy with a red tie.

[freshoffthefarm]

Opening her door, she couldn't help the smile she gave when she saw him in dressed in a three piece suit. Tilting her head, she gave him a long look over, then narrowed her eyes playfully. "It's a good look on you. Every suit I've seen you in has been very..." She trailed off and her voice softened far more than she intended it to. "This."

She obviously approved. Dressed in her red wrap dress and her signature Louboutins, she was all ready to go.