Never for acclaim, always for country.

Annie had told Danielle that she was exhausted, but that was so much of an understatement that it was ridiculous. After making sure that her older sister had put the good coffee on the menu, Annie hauled her suitcase off to the guesthouse with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

After she'd made sure that her classified paperwork was put away where it was supposed to be, she came very close to laying down on the window seat and falling asleep there. It took way too much effort than it should have to make it into the shower and actually scrub her body down.

There is nothing better than your own shower after an op like that, was the thought that she managed after, as she changed into the usual post-mission bedtime wear of Harvard t-shirt and shorts. When the knock came, she thought it was Danielle, reminding her about something else that had happened while she was gone.

Opening the door with a groan, she said, "This couldn't have waited until morn..." Her voice trailed off when she saw her visitor, "ing?"

Annie was standing at the foot of the bed, three different pictures spread out on the bed in front of her, and when Webb walked in, she turned.

"Oh, good! Which one do you like?"

A month had passed since Annie and Clay had buried Dani in her favorite dress on a gray morning. Since then, Clay had barely spoken, spending his days shut in his study with a bottle of scotch. He’d tried to sleep the first week, but after laying in bed staring at the ceiling, or getting up to stare at Dani’s empty bed, he gave up on that too. Annie did her best to make sure he ate, but more often than not, ended up collecting the mostly uneaten food from his desk at the end of the day.

Every day, Arthur called to check in on him, and every day, Annie had told him the same thing.

“Not yet.”

Finally, Arthur had come to the house in person. Annie had let him in, relieved to see a familiar face.

“He’s really giving it up,” Arthur said softly. “I always thought they’d have to pry that desk from his cold, dead hands.” She’d led him down the hallway to the study, knocking gently as she opened the door.

“Clay,” she said softly, poking her head. “Honey, Arthur’s here. He needs to talk to you.”

Sitting with his back to the door, balancing a glass of scotch on the armrest of his chair as he stared out the window, Clay just waved for Arthur to come in.

“You probably know why I’m here,” Arthur said, standing just inside the door. “It’s been a month. The President needs to know if you’re coming back, or -”

“The job’s yours, Arthur,” Clay said shortly, still staring out the window. “Close the door on your way out.”

Without another word, Arthur left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a moment to look at Annie, both of them shocked but not surprised at Clay’s choice.

“I know,” Annie said, looking sadly at the door before returning her gaze to Arthur. “But could you really back, if it’d been you?”

Once he’d heard Annie and Arthur’s voices retreat back down the hallway, Clay turned his chair away from the window. He finished the scotch that was in his glass before filling it again, standing from the chair to walk across the room. There in the corner was a small, low wooden table, painted a light lavender with child-sized chairs to match, and set for afternoon tea. There was a stuffed animal in three of the chairs, but the fourth was empty.

The fourth was where Dani had sat.

His face grim, Clay sat on the floor next to the empty chair, just as he had countless times before, sipping imaginary tea with his daughter on sunny afternoons. He hadn’t cared about his suits being wrinkled, or if the Secretary of State was waiting downstairs. Tea parties with his daughter were sacred moments, the ones he had treasured most.

Now he simply stared in silence at where she should have been sitting, remembering her laugh, as he finished off another bottle of scotch.

Downstairs, Annie said a quiet goodbye to Arthur and stood by the front window as she watched him get into the back of the car he'd arrived in. As it drove away, she caught sight of the guards still sitting at the end of the driveway. Another reminder, something she didn't need, so she let the curtain fall into place before she sat down on the couch, putting her face in her hands.

There was no sound from upstairs, there never was. Every morning, she'd make coffee and toast and the toast would come back with a bite out of it to appease her, the coffee cup smelled like scotch, but it would be empty. Lunch was never eaten, but she made it every day anyway. Dinner was a lot of the same and every night, she knocked before telling him she was going to bed.

Sometimes, he would join her, but more often than not, she'd lay there for an hour or more, tossing and turning before she'd go and knock again. When there was no answer, she'd slide to the floor and rest her head against the wall. Once or twice, she'd actually woken up there. After the second time, he'd begun to walk her back to bed before disappearing again. On the nights he did join her, she wrapped her arm around his waist, her face pressed into his back.

She didn't even think he noticed when the back of his t-shirt would get damp from her tears.

This afternoon, she sighed and walked upstairs, knocking again. "Clay?"

The drive to Manderly was, as always, relaxing and calm. It put her in the right mind frame for the upcoming holiday and as they passed other houses on their way out of town, she felt herself get more and more into the spirit of Christmas.

Over the previous days, she'd gotten her hair dyed back to it's normal blonde color; she hadn't wanted to see her sister or the rest of her family without doing the equivalent of fixing herself -- at least as much as she could. And though the physical things she had done a good job of repairing, the emotional things she'd had a harder time with.

Sleeping in the same bed had become easier, though she'd still woken up on the living room couch and once in her own study. He hadn't said anything, though she always woke up with a blanket she hadn't gone to sleep with. Sex hadn't resumed quite yet and she felt a little anxious. As though he was worried about her and just hadn't said anything.

It was her sincere hope that she would be able to overcome her anxiety during their last night alone before company arrived. She desperately wanted to feel close to him, as if she finally belonged in their marriage again instead of like an outsider still.

As they pulled up, she gave the house a nostalgic smile. "I am so sorry I missed the entire summer here."

Annie had resisted the overwhelming urge to spend the next week at Clay's apartment just in case he came home. As six days, then seven passed, she honestly thought she was going to come out of her skin if he didn't call her. Every night, she lay awake in her own bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if, during that last week, something had gone horrendously wrong.

The night of the eighth day, Annie got ready for bed, throwing herself onto it in frustration, knowing that her dreams would be restless, if she even managed to fall asleep.

In hindsight, it was hard to say where things went so wrong, but after the bullets stopped, Jai lifted his head from the marble floor of the hotel room, all he saw was bits of mattress that had been blown to pieces and shards of glass from where the minibar had been shattered by gunfire.

The sight of Annie's blonde head moving meant that at least she was alive and he sighed his relief. Waving the smoke and dust from in front of his face, he pushed himself to a kneeling position and heard her cry out. The sound sent a sharp sense of dread and pain through him and he pushed himself toward her, the sight of blood on her shirt making his heart stutter.

"Annie-"

"I'm okay," she hissed, moving her hand just a little so he could see. "It's just a scratch."

He could breathe again and shook his head, grabbing the briefcase she was still hanging on to. "We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"

Annie nodded and rolled to her side, biting her lip to stop herself from making too much noise. "Yeah, let's-" She took a deep breath as she stood, pressing her hand to her bleeding side. "Let's go."

It was more than a scratch, less than an actual bullet hole and, with Jai's help, she managed to get it cleaned and bandaged and herself redressed. Once they were both on a plane home, she shook her head before resting it on her partner's shoulder. "He's going to kill me."

There was silence for almost a minute before she heard a quiet, "Yup."