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Never for acclaim, always for country.

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[Post Finale] ... whoo
What to do?, Tightlipped
Amsterdam had been a nightmare.

Between finding the tracker that they'd dug out of Eyal's thigh to actually planning to be beaten up in public in order to land herself in the Embassy's infirmary, Annie was fairly certain that she, Auggie and Eyal had really only managed to survive the ordeal by the skin of their teeth.

Running, being shot at and boat jumping, not to mention the part where she'd hunted a known terrorist down on her own and pretty much convinced him to go kill his own father... it had left her exhausted. By the time the plane landed back in DC, she wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and sleep for twenty-four straight hours.

Thankfully, she knew someone with an exquisite bathtub. And even better? That person would have been furious if she hadn't gone to see him first.

So, it was with no small amount of pleasure that Annie took her bruised and battered body over to Clayton Webb's house at five in the morning and knocked.

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Annie had gone to the ceremony, too, but that wasn't what was bothering her. She shook her head.

"You'd think that would have been part of commuting his sentence - staying away from the Agency and everyone in it."

"We can't be that lucky."

Wilcox, as far as Clay was concerned, was bad news. The fact that he got off of a treason charge scott free made things worse. The man still had connections.

"Someone should really do something about him."

It won't be Annie, unfortunately. For the time being, she has to play nice with Mr. Wilcox, if only to find out what his endgame is. It won't be the first time, or the last, that she's played with evil. It will be the first time that she's played with evil directly connected to Clay, and she doesn't want to talk about it with him. She knows what he'll say.

Clay took another sip of his wine, "I hope Arthur gets a chance."

It was really all he wanted to say on the subject of Henry Wilcox. Tonight wasn't really about him, it was about them.

"How's the food?"

"Can Arthur really do anything? I mean, isn't it up to the D-CIA?"

When Clay changed the subject, Annie took the hint and motioned to the plate in front of her with her fork. "It's really good. You did good." She smiled at him. "Thanks for dinner, Clay. And the wine. You always seem to know exactly what I like."

Clay nodded in response. It was the Director's place to take action but Arthur could pull some strings, he hoped. The DNI could also say something, but he had far bigger issues on his plate at the moment.

"We just have similar tastes, that's all."

With everything that was going on, Annie was just going to keep her mouth shut. She wasn't sure that she wanted to keep her association with Henry a secret, but she knew that she had no choice. Until she knew what was going on with Joan and Arthur, she had a feeling that she was safer keeping her mouth shut.

Experience had taught her that.

"That's not a bad thing. You have impeccable taste."

"Which means you do too. Not that I had any doubt." Another smile for Annie, "I still wear those cuff links you bought for me in Russia."

Perhaps it wasn't the best time to bring up that country after everything. But he liked to think that on that particular trip the good outweighed the bad.

Any cute comment she was going to make about having impeccable taste regarding him goes by the wayside the second he mentions Russia. It reminds her of Simon and her appetite just drops.

Tipping back her wine glass, she smiles at him, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I should have picked up dessert while I was out. I didn't think ahead, sorry."

Clay wasn't planning on that kind of reaction, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned that." He should have just left it as 'the cuff links you bought me'.

"Don't worry about dessert. I'm not really in the mood for something sweet. I was hoping we could relax and finish this bottle of wine."

The fact of the matter was, Clay knew her so well and when he offered to relax, her expression softened and she nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "That sounds really nice. Let me just rinse these and we can go back to the guest house. Get comfortable. I'll use you as a pillow as usual," she added as she stood, a more genuine smile appearing. "Then fall asleep on you while we watch something."

As the first plate went into the sink, she looked at him. "Did you bring a bag?"

That was much better. A real smile, and much less sadness than a few minutes ago. He could work with this.

"Back to our old routine," he teased. Annie always accused him of being comfortable and he didn't mind be used as a pillow at all.

Clay handed Annie the rest of the dishes from the table, "It's in the car." If asked, he was going to say it was too much to carry with dinner and wine also in his hands. The actual reason was that he didn't want to assume anything. He and Annie were basically starting over and despite their history, he wasn't entirely sure if she wanted him to spend the night.

"Why don't you get it while I lock up and change my clothes," she offered gently.

Leaning over, she gave him a kiss and nodded toward the door. As much as they were starting over, some things between them would never change. Not just Annie using Clay as a body pillow, but the way she trusted him enough - loved him enough - to fall asleep on him. It wasn't just because he was comfortable, but because he was safe.

Knowing that he would protect her and keep her safe was part of the reason that she loved him still. Would always love him. Would always, always go back to him.

"Don't forget the glasses."

Clay took one last look around the kitchen before heading out the door to the guest house. Danielle's house was strange without the girls in it. He hoped that they continued riding when they moved across the country.

After a quick stop at his car he went into the guest house with his bag.

"What are we watching?"

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