Annie came home from Italy a mess. Her Italian wasn't spectacular, one of a handful of languages she insisted still needed work. She dedicated her first night home to sleeping and pampering. It was harder doing these things alone, without Danielle. She wasn't the girliest girl, but she missed having someone who didn't mind watching "Revenge" with her while she colored her roots.

As soon as her plane touched down, she had Auggie in her ear.

"Welcome home, Agent Walker," he said smoothly as she rounded the corner to baggage claim.

"Good to be back," she said, voice gravelly from her six hour plane "nap." She was the worst at being an alert traveller. "Did I even check a bag? I don't remember..."

"You had a full closet at the safe house," Auggie reminded her gently. "No need for bags."

"Oh yeah!" That was a plus when it came to low-risk undercover operations. Sometimes they knew exactly who would be there and when. The Italians had planned accordingly. "I forgot I wore generic pantsuits all week."

"I once heard a story of a spy who turned up in Croatia expecting a stocked safe house and wound up wearing duty-free sweatpants for six days," Auggie quipped. "Are we sure we're complaining?"

"Not at all."

"You sure you're okay? Your voice is funny."

"I'm just tired," she yawned. "I have a little bit of a tickle."

"Uh-oh, Wonder Woman. Are we getting sick?"

"I am not getting sick," she attempted, punctuating her sentence with a cough. "I'm just jet lagged."

"Just jet lagged?" his voice was incredulous. "Who are you and what have you done with Annie Walker?"

Annie laughed and crawled into a cab. "Do I need to come in for a debrief?"

"Go home and get some rest," Auggie said. "We'll deal with the debrief tomorrow."

...

Annie didn't even make it all the way upstairs. She lay on the sofa for a long time, too sore and tired to move, but too sore and tired to fall asleep. Some horrible reality show was on, so she watched that for awhile. It faded into another reality show, this time about a group of pretentious young realtors. Then something new about a woman who is a pregnancy consultant?

After an endless number of reality programs, there was a tapping from outside. "WALKER? YOU HOME?"

She dragged herself to the door and opened it to find Auggie, with a brown grocery bag.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, leading him in. "And what's in the bag?"

"Just a few things for your quote-unquote 'jet lag,'" he set the bag on the counter and winked in her direction. "You look awful, by the way."

She retrieved a cup of soup and half a sandwich from the bag, along with a bottle of NyQuil, a tin of tea, and a box of tissues.

"That's so sweet, but I'm fi-" she broke down coughing again.

Auggie's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you have a thermometer?"

"Probably not. Danielle took most of that stuff with her."

Auggie held out his hand. "Let me feel your forehead."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

Auggie nodded, extending his hand a bit further. She took it and moved it up to her forehead. Once it was there, he flipped it a couple times, then moved down to her cheeks. "You are burning up," he said. "Grab the bag and let's go to the couch."

"Auggie, I'm really okay. If this is a bug, I don't want to give it to you," she tried to protest, but she lacked the energy. He took her hand and she walked him over the sofa.

Once she set the bag down on the coffee table, he dug in, retrieving the soup and a spoon. "This will help your throat. Best chicken soup in town."

She took them, reluctantly sipping the soup. He slipped the neck pillow under her head and grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch, spreading it so it covered both their laps. He snuggled up next to her.

"What are we watching?" he asked, nose wrinkled.

"It's a bunch of women who live in New Jersey I guess," Annie said. "Danielle loves this show. I guess a bunch of them are related but they all hate each other."

"They all sound the same," Auggie commented through a mouthful of sandwich. "Do they realize how frustrating this is to their visually impaired viewers?"

"If it makes you feel any better, they all look pretty similar," Annie shrugged. "The only 'blind' in their vocabulary is probably followed by the words 'date' or 'judging.'"

After awhile, under the influence of cold medicine, Annie dozed off. When she woke, Auggie was handing her a mug.

"You made tea?" she asked, taking a sip. "How?"

Auggie paused, pressing his lips together in search of the proper wording. "Trial and error."

"Did you break anything?"

He laughed. "No. But I did touch every single thing in every single cabinet, in search of mugs, so you might want to give it all a quick rinse tomorrow. How's it taste? And be honest."

"It could use honey," she managed. Her throat was killing her.

"Honey. Got it."

"In the cabinet directly left of the stove vent," she supplied. "On the far right of the bottom shelf."

He nodded and went back to the kitchen. She was pretty out of it, but the gesture wasn't lost on her. Auggie Anderson was one of, if not the best, person she knew. She would have to get him back for this one day.