A/N: This didn't come out the way I planned it to. But here it is. I've had this in my head since the series started and I was just waiting for the right words to come. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. I really would like to know.

For Chris.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Covert Affairs.

The Color Blue

From the moment he stepped foot off the plane, hand gripping Jamie's arm, Auggie felt his stomach twisting into nervous knots. He hadn't been home since long before the accident and he wasn't exactly sure that this trip was going to 'do him some good' as his mother had put it. Self-consciously he pulled himself in a bit tighter to his little brother, his fingers clutching his cane as he swept it back and forth. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jamie, in fact, Jamie was probably the only one he did trust to lead him, but the airport was packed with people and that made him insecure. Plus the cane was a surefire way of keeping people out of his immediate path. Sighted-citizens seemed to have an incredible phobia of white canes.

The roar of voices, both in-person and over the intercom, washed around him and made it impossible to pinpoint anything. He was ready to get out of this place, just forget about baggage claim and leave. Squeezing his eyes shut behind his dark glasses, he begged his headache to go away, but of course the bitch wouldn't go away. She never did.

"Hey man, loosen up," Jamie's voice, although loud, was still dulled by the crashing waves of voices threatening to engulf them. Even Auggie could barely hear him.

"I can't, I hate airports," he sighed. Jamie rounded a corner and Auggie was nearly body checked by a guy who mumbled his apology and scampered away.

"No, I mean, loosen your grip on my arm. I can't feel my hand anymore," Jamie said. Auggie could feel Jamie's laughter vibrate in his chest.

The smile that spread across Auggie's face felt good, he hadn't smiled like that in the week of preparation to get to Glencoe. He shoved into Jamie as he chuckled. What would he do without this kid?

"My gorgeous sons," a booming bass called from what Auggie took as a few yards away.

"Aw, dad, you really think I'm pretty," Auggie smiled as his father's raucous laughter invaded his sense of hearing.

Jamie pulled them to a halt and Auggie collapsed his cane, shoving it into his messenger bag. The damn stick made things awkward between him and his dad. He could remember the first time he pulled it out when the old man was around, things had gotten real quiet and, though he wasn't positive, he was pretty sure he had heard his father sniffling.

A heavy hand landed on Auggie's shoulder before pulling him in for a tight hug. He had almost forgotten how much bigger his father was compared to him, his arms like tree trunks from all his time in the construction field. Auggie smiled despite himself, things seemed to be climbing back to where they used to be before his family suffered the plunge of tragedy.

"You know I do, kid," his father said, patting his cheek before pulling away.

"I always knew you loved him more than me," Jamie teased.

An hour later and his father's old pickup truck rumbled to a stop, it's once roaring engine leaving them in a strange silence. As he slid out of the mile-high cab, Auggie took in a deep, long breath and pictured the old house before them. He could see the wrap around porch with the railing that he and his brothers would sit on and eat popsicles in the summer; the giant oak tree in the front yard that they would climb and jump out of just to prove they could; the dozens of windows that their mother liked to open for fresh air year round; and the small window at the very top of the house that looked out from his old room. But there was something that bothered him, something that he couldn't remember…

"Welcome home boys," his father said, voice low and comfortable.

The three didn't even make it to the door before his mother's voice was upon them. A vision of her graying brown hair and crinkled green eyes flashed behind his eyes and it made his chest hurt to realize that he would never see her again.

"Oh it's my babies," his mother's voice rang out followed by her short footsteps. "You're the first ones here! I'm so glad to see you."

"Don't you just love how we're thrown in the 'baby' category," Jamie murmured lightheartedly. Auggie couldn't help but smile. As second to last and last of the Anderson litter, the two would forever be babies in Julia Anderson's mind.

"Ooh, look at you, Jameson," the woman smiled, "I can't believe how big you've gotten. It seems you left a boy and came back a man!"

Auggie could practically feel the heat of embarrassment rolling off the youngest Anderson brother and he couldn't help but give him a playful nudge. The baby of the family had just turned twenty the month before and Auggie himself couldn't believe that this kid beside him was battling him for height.

"August, I'm so happy you came," her voice was softer when she spoke to him, almost reverent. After all, this time last year she almost lost him. Her thin arms wrapped around him with surprising strength for such a small woman.

Their embrace lasted for several long moments, neither one of them wanting to let the other go. When Julia was around it felt like the world was okay, because, of course, mom can fix anything.

"Alright, Mica," Julia addressed her husband as she placed Auggie's hand on her arm, "Let's get these boys inside so I can start dinner. Oh! And Daddy's here too, he's been anxious to see you boys!"

It was hard for Auggie to admit, as he trusted his mother with his life, but as they walked towards the house, he felt as though his mom was leading him towards a pit of death. After his accident the only one who he ever let lead him anywhere was Jamie, not that anyone else had the balls to try. His toes hit the first step leading to the porch but he quickly caught the railing and steadied himself before anyone could make a fuss. He had to shove away the urge to ask for Jamie.

As they walked into the house a smirk crossed Auggie's face. The smell of clean linens, lemon dish soap, lavender, and (best of all) chocolate chip cookies made nostalgia swell up in his chest to the point of physical pain. So much, he wished he could just erase the past ten years and start over.

BAM.

Auggie fell forward as his shins hit a piece of furniture and his hands reached out to find nothing, but just before he found himself on the floor, familiar hands caught his shoulders. Cut grass, old spice; Jamie. Immediately his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, anger, and frustration. He couldn't even walk through his childhood house without tripping over the damn furniture!

"August, I am so sorry," his mother said in a weird hushed voice, her hands all over him.

"Mom, It's fine. I'm fine. It's okay," Auggie assured her as his father's footsteps approached him.

"Julia, why don't you get to the kitchen and set out the milk for the cookies. All of us men are starving," his father's deep voice said in good humor. Auggie could hear her footsteps retreating as she mumbled several more apologies and the familiar pang of guilt washed up in his stomach. "I'm going to help your mother and ease her nerves a bit, you boys take your time."

Jamie could tell that Auggie was frustrated and he also knew that his older brother's temper wasn't something that you wanted to mess with. Taking a step back to assess the situation he decided to wait for Auggie to respond first. A passive approach one might say.

"What the hell, Jamie? How hard is it to say 'Look out there's a fucking ottoman in front of you,' huh?" Clearly, passive was the best approach. Any other way and Auggie would once again be the youngest Anderson.

"It's not my fault, Aug, and you know that," Jamie said. His tone wasn't aggressive but firm. His older brother had had more than one tantrum after losing his sight and Jamie never let him get away with it. "You want me to lead or what?"

"Please," he answered, his face flushed. Jamie tapped the back of his hand and Auggie took his arm. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"I know."

They sat on the bar stools at the counter with Granddad Anderson eating cookies with milk as their mother bumbled around the kitchen. Both boys had missed home in their time away and after experiencing dark new territory, the familiarity was more than welcome. But Auggie was itching to explore, wanting to get the feel of his childhood home for the second time. Sliding off his stool, he pulled out his cane and unfolded it, tapping it on the ground twice to ensure that the joints were secure.

"I'm going up to my old nest, alright," Auggie said, navigating his way around the kitchen table and into the hall entryway.

"Are you sure, dear, there are an awful lot of stairs," his mother asked with concern. "And then the ladder… Are you sure you don't want to take Jamie with you?"

It seemed that it was going to be difficult to convince his mother that he was still, in fact, a twenty-eight year old man.

"Let the boy explore, Julia, he's in his own house, give him some space," Granddad Anderson said. "You go ahead son."

"That's Granddad," Auggie chuckled, "If I'm not back by morning, call the rescue team."

Navigating his house was more complicated than he had originally anticipated, but he had managed to find the bathroom, the front door, the living room, and the stairs leading down to the den. He was grateful that no one else had arrived yet and he had the freedom of mapping out the house without an overly helpful audience. About six months in, he had gotten over the embarrassment of using his cane around other people, especially after unsuccessfully and quite painfully trying to get around without it, but he hated when people helped even though he insisted it wasn't necessary. Or, what was worse, when people would take his cane and lead without permission.

By some miracle, he found the stairs that lead to the second level and from there finding his old room would be simple. At the top of the stairs he took a left and followed the hall until his cane met with something in his path. Following his cane to the obstacle, his fingers explored it and he smiled. He found it. The ladder that led up into his room. Hastily, he folded his cane, shoved it in his back pocket and climbed.

The hatch creaked as he pushed it open and he pulled himself up to his old castle. He carefully shut the trap door so that he wouldn't fall through it later and started to explore. First thing he did was find the window, lifting it open to feel the cool breeze on his face. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and made his way to the bookshelf. His fingers ran over the dozens of books that he had collected; spy novels, science fiction paperbacks, and magazines. Occasionally he knocked over an action figure and found the Rubik's Cube he solved when he was thirteen, remembering how Matt had to give him ten bucks for solving it in two hours.

He found something else then, something he had kept ever since his sophomore year in high school. It was a picture, no frame, propped up on his stack of year books. He knew immediately that it was the right one because the bottom left corner was torn off. Taking it off the shelf, he cautiously made his way to his bed and laid down, resting the picture on his stomach as he let his fingers trail over it regretfully. There was a face in that picture that he wished he could see more than anything. A face that he couldn't picture in his mind's eye.

His best friend Chris was in that picture and a week after the picture was taken, Chris died. Auggie's chest constricted as he swallowed his emotions. Why had he left this here? Why hadn't he taken it with him when he moved out? Because Chris belongs here, he thought to himself. This was where his childhood lived, where all the good memories were preserved.

Angry tears wet his face, all the pent up frustration from the past year, the fact that he was always choking on people's comments about his blindness, the way people spoke to him and treated him like a child, everything and everyone he had lost, the restricted feeling that always sat on his chest and that little voice in the back of his head that told him that he couldn't do it. But there was more than that, something he hadn't even been able to admit to himself yet. Something he was terrified to admit.

A knock on his hatch made him jolt into a sitting position and he wiped at his eyes, trying to erase the tears he'd let escape. He was embarrassed by his private display of emotions. But after bottling everything up for so long it felt good.

"Yea come in," he called. He could hear the small wooden square squeak and a grunt as someone pulled themselves up.

"Jesus, Auggie, I never understood why you wanted to sleep up here," the voice made him smile. "Good to see you, little brother."

"You too, Matt," Auggie said. He stood from his bed and moments later, strong arms pulled him close. "How's it been?"

"Eh, I can't complain, just working really. How have things been going for you?"

Auggie could hear the strain of springs as Matt sat down on his bed and he moved to join him, the photo still clutched in his hand.

"Not too bad, I guess," Auggie shrugged, "Just trying to get rehabbed enough to start working again."

"Yea? How's that going," Matt was genuinely curious and Auggie appreciated when people didn't shy away from the subject.

"Well, I've pretty much got the hang of Braille, I'm not that fast yet but hell at least I can read, right? The computer stuff is pretty easy and navigating isn't as freaky as it was in the beginning," his brow scrunched together when he spoke, he wasn't sure what he had done with his cane.

It was comfortable discussing his recovery with Matt because Matt was so relaxed, he always had been. Not to mention, Matt was a Sports Medicine therapist and he was used to working with people who initially thought their lives were over.

"I can tell, you don't seem as tense as you did," Matt smiled, "Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"Is that Chris," Matt asked softly.

"Huh? Oh, yea," Auggie smiled, holding the picture out towards his brother, feeling a bit strange when the photo left his fingertips, "It's the one we took at Cam's party, you remember that?"

"Hell yea! That was one of the greatest moments of high school, I think. God I miss him," Matt sighed, touching the picture to the back of Auggie's hand. "You alright?"

Of all the people in his life, Matt had been the one that understood him the best. He and Matt were barely a year apart and spent most of their public school years together. Chris had been friends with both of them and both Andersons felt it when he passed away.

"Yea, it's just- I- I feel like I'm forgetting him," Auggie said quietly. What he said was true, but there was so much more behind his words. "I honestly can't even remember what he looked like."

"He's been gone for years, Auggie. Besides, its not his face you need to remember, right, it's Chris," Matt replied calmly.

Auggie stood to his feet then, letting out a small groan of frustration. He had to say it out loud, he needed to.

"I'm starting to forget stuff, Matt!" The words exploded from Auggie's mouth, rushed and almost frantic.

His fingers knitted through his hair and dragged down his face, hearing it out loud was more that he thought it would be, like this thing was actually final, confirmed.

"Auggie, what are you talking about," Matt's words were very soft, careful. He knew that he should understand but he didn't. "What are you forgetting?"

"Everything," the word was straggled, desperate, like maybe if he told someone they could fix it, make the problem go away. "I- I can't remember what color the house is, I can't see dad's face right in my head. My mind isn't letting me see green and I can't even look at a fucking picture to remember what Chris looks like! I don't know how Jamie's changed, or you, or Luke's newest baby and I never will! I've never seen it at all! Hell, I don't even know what I look like anymore and I- I-"

He took in a deep shuttering breath then, trying to keep the tears at bay. He didn't want to cry. Andersons didn't cry. They were happy, a shoulder to be cried on not the other way around.

"I can't go blind again, Matt. I can't."

It was quiet for a long time and Matt fought to find the right words, but honestly, he didn't think that there were right words.

"I hardly even dream in color anymore and when I do nothing makes sense, its just blurs." Auggie sat down again, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I don't feel human sometimes… Is that normal?"

"Well," Matt began, taking a deep breath and taking a long look at his brother, "It makes sense, we depend on sight a lot, probably more than we should. But you don't need it to be human, August, you don't need it for memories and you don't need it to make them."

Auggie looked towards him then, his unfocused eyes just over his brother's forehead, he gave a sad smile and a small nod. It felt like a lead weight had lifted off of his chest.

"Come on, I just saw headlights outside, we better get downstairs," Matt said, standing to his feet, "'Sides, I think dinner's done and I'm starving."

"Right," Auggie answered clearing his throat. Getting off his bed, he felt around his nightstand for his cane which wasn't there, "Hey, you see my cane anywhere?"

"Yea, I got it. Here," Matt tapped the back of Auggie's hand with it and they filed out of the trapdoor. Matt paused when they reached the hall, suddenly thinking of something. "It's blue, by the way."

"What?"

"The house," Matt answered matter-of-factly, "It's blue."

Auggie smiled.

"Thank you."