[For Annie and Auggie] Operation: Mistletoe

[lysistrategic]

Eight days. Joan has been here eight days, long enough to celebrate Hanukkah if she did, which she doesn't, and Christmas, which she does, but didn't, since it isn't Christmas at home and the one person she needs to see on Christmas isn't here.

Her thumb rubs against the inside of her wedding ring, thoughts of Arthur overwhelming her increasing uncertainty about this place. She misses him, even though they've been apart much longer than eight days for work. And she's worried about him, in the midst of the Operation: Lynx crisis without her there for support.

She worries about Annie, as well, and Auggie who probably doesn't think she'd even noticed the smoldering fuse he'd been hiding the day she arrived here. Her other operatives may have been in less immediate danger, but without her there, that may not last. Especially if Jai moves in on her job in her absence. He'll squander personnel resources with as much callous disregard as he did her budget and destroy Arthur's faith in him as well.

It's funny, but not funny enough to make her smile, that she worries more about Arthur's heart than Jai's treachery. Arthur will take care of her people in her absence. But who will take care of Arthur?

Her lips press tight together at the thought that Geena or Petra might move in to take her place as wife if she's gone too much longer. The books on the bookshelf mock her as her fingertips move across it - nothing useful about this place, or intellectually interesting, just row after row of romances, some of them erotic enough to be fun under difference circumstances but most of them just a reminder that whether this place is real or she has been captured or she's in a coma or dead, she may never see Arthur again.

Which, Joan realizes, is precisely why anger at Petra or Geena is a better turn of thought. Anger is stronger than fear, and anger can be exorcised. She spins away from the bookshelf, intending to be rid of this ridiculous dress and shoes and find some way to run or at least take a brisk walk to cool her temper.

She spins - and is stopped so firmly in her path that she immediately grabs a book to smash into the face of whoever's grabbed her. But there's no one. No explanation for why she can't move. Her heart slams against her ribs, but Joan forces herself to breathe calmly and take stock. There are other people in the room, reading, talking, and none of them paying the slightest attention to her. None of them seem stuck.

Head cocked, Joan rubs a hand over the side of her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a bundle of green with waxy white berries and a red ribbon overhead. She snarls to herself and spits out, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

A few people look up and start forward to offer their help but she holds up her hand. If this is a psych test to see if she will cheat on Arthur when it's expedient to do so, whoever's administering it will be sadly disappointed.

Comments

[lysistrategic]

Annie’s discomfort is so obvious, Joan would have to stop her eyes from rolling if she didn’t know exactly how this feels: to see someone she cares deeply for with someone else; to love someone and have to kiss someone else. The best operatives could manage it in the field, and she had, as had Arthur, but this isn’t the field and she isn’t an asset.

For all of their sakes, Joan lifts a foot - prepared either to kick if it’s a trick or step back if it’s not and the mistletoe releases her - as soon as Auggie touches her face. The hand feels familiar (and comforting in ways she can’t allow herself to acknowledge at this moment) and unfamiliar (not Arthur’s) at once, and the kiss, as obvious as it is that Auggie’s a skilled partner, is nothing but a touch of sweetness between friends for her.

It’s enough and her foot hits outside her quarter step radius. Joan takes another, but leaves her hand on Auggie’s arm for a moment. “Thank you, Auggie.” She squeezes his arm gently, certain as she can be that this is Auggie and not an imposter, and then lets it fall away again.

She waits for Annie to turn again, seeks out her gaze also, drawing it to herself. “And thank you for your discretion, Annie.” For now, making a connection supersedes the amused desire to call them both out. Let her think she’s gotten away with it for a little while; she’ll be more comfortable and Joan will get better intel for it.

[theblindguy]

It feels like it lasts for minutes instead of the seconds he actually knows it ends up being. While it isn't as though it's a bad kiss, who it's with and who it's in front of is enough to make it all as awkward as he expects. She steps away first, and he knows then that it'd been enough. Which is good, because if this place made him deepen it, the mistletoe would've proved itself more awful than he originally thought.

"Don't mention it," he replies, scratching the back of his neck as he steps back and out from underneath the mistletoe. He doesn't know if it has some sort of time frame when you can get out, and he isn't taking any chances.

The discretion comment makes him wonder if that means Annie had looked away. It made sense, though it doesn't stop him from feeling a little guilty despite having done nothing wrong. He shakes it off and clears his throat, adding, "I can't believe you're here. You know, Annie and I were just going to go get some breakfast, you should join us."

It's a casual invitation to find someplace quieter, acting like she's an old friend they're meeting up with and nothing more. He doesn't know anything about her cover, so he assumes it's the safest, most generic way to go about it. Technically, it's not completely removed from the truth either, even though Joan's still his boss first and foremost to him, and that makes things even easier.

[farmgrown]

Annie nods, not necessarily brightly but definitely welcoming, and returns her gaze back to both of their faces when Joan starts to speak, waving dismissively as she's thanked for her discretion. "Yeah, sure, don't sweat it," she adds, shrugging one shoulder.

She makes an agreeing sound when Auggie suggests breakfast - for starters, it'll give them a place to talk that may be a little more private than the rec room is, especially if Joan has as many questions as Annie imagines she does. The deeper question remains, though, and it's one that she's been dwelling on ever since Auggie showed up here with her - whether or not this is a safe place for them, as DPD. While she hasn't come across people who would give her pause, or reason to be nervous, she's kept her status secret for a reason. It helps having Auggie here, someone who knows the full truth about her, but she's getting closer with others all the time, and the deeper she gets, the guiltier she feels for hiding that secret - though not to the degree of guilt she'd felt with Danielle, who still doesn't know about her being an agent back home, as far as she knows.

"Sure, join us," she says. "Somewhere - not here, obviously."

[lysistrategic]

“Obviously,” Joan agrees and cocks her head slightly toward the hallway before she begins to walk. At home in the DPD, that would be a walk with me or an in my office but her expression’s mild and her tone stays even. Auggie’s been with her long enough, she thinks, to know the difference between the equivalent of in my office because she doesn’t want prying ears and the In My office. Now. with capitals even without the words.

The habit of being their boss and expecting them to listen to her requires caution in how they address each other until they’ve settled on a story that accounts for it. She’s reasonably confident they’ve stuck to their established covers, which means that with every click of her booted heels against the floor she is one step closer to establishing a group cover story for a task force they’re on together or were that explains why they treat her like the boss and why she will continue, for now at least, to expect them to, even if they are also friends.

“I know a place,” she says abruptly after almost a minute of silence. “The pastries are worth the calories and they make up for the ridiculous size of the coffee cups by giving you a carafe.” That is, they don’t hover and even the holograph-people that may also be listening devices, don’t have any reason to stand near. “Will that suit?” Although it’s phrased as a question, it isn’t one, unless they know of someplace better but even then, Joan would like to retain control of this little debriefing until she’s sure of a few things.

[theblindguy]

For a second, he almost feels like he's back in the office again. Which is equal parts welcome (something normal in a place that apparently lives to be abnormal) and strange.

Annie's still standing where he left her. With Joan already walking away, the purposeful steps he hears making a beeline toward the exit of the rec room, he takes the moment of her attention being turned elsewhere to take Annie's hand instead of her arm at first, squeezing it lightly and shooting her a small, reassuring smile as he does it. The touch lasts only briefly before he untangles his fingers and winds his arm around hers instead, letting her lead the way in following after their boss.

"Sounds perfect," he says, well aware that any other answer isn't what she'd be looking for. There's no place he can think of that would be completely without prying ears - not with the island changed, anyway.

[farmgrown]

"Yeah, definitely," Annie agrees faintly, thinking more about the potential ramifications of all of this. As far as everyone on the island is concerned, she and Auggie are museum girl and tech guy, respectively, and they've given others no reason to suspect otherwise. Auggie's even been honest about his military service, as far as she knows, because there's nothing about his time in Iraq that would ring any alarm bells as a direct line to the DPD.

She's jarred from her thoughts by the warm hand that slips into hers, confident and sure in a lingering squeeze, and she only has just enough time to squeeze Auggie's hand back in reply before he's pulling back to link arms with her again, in a more casual form of contact - but she can be grateful for that even now, when everything else feels seconds away from uprooting.

"When did you arrive?" she asks, just trying to set up a timeline in her head. It's an innocent question, one that wouldn't raise any kind of suspicion - definitely something one would ask of a co-worker, if not someone they knew from home.

[lysistrategic]

Joan is, naturally, aware of the byplay behind her. Even though she accepts that they are either her operatives or they are a projection of her operatives in her own mind, they may have been compromised, there may be things they will tell each other and not her, and her ears are pricked toward any sound of sotto voce communication. She uses panes of glass to keep an eye on them behind her, as well, but her people are well-trained and she doesn't expect to see or hear anything they don't want her to know.

"Eight days ago," she answers succinctly but without sharpness. It's not Annie's fault that the metaphysics of this place give her a headache. For the sake of anyone paying enough attention to them for it to matter, Joan slows from her on a mission pace to a more casual stroll and puts on a more pleasant smile, one that suggests she's truly happy to see them (she is, if confused). "Did the two of you arrive together? How long ago?"

[theblindguy]

Eight days. He isn't sure why he's surprised they didn't bump into each other - the island's big enough, even as a city, and Joan would have no reason to ask around for them. In fact, she probably did her best to blend in at much as she could, which is probably what he would've done more of if Annie hadn't found him on the beach. He'd still been cautious - still was, in some respects - but it helped to have someone who knew about him and had time already to get a decent idea of the place they were dealing with.

"I've been here since it was August here," he says. It hadn't been August back home, so it seemed important to note the difference. He doesn't go into detail about what's the last thing he remembers - that can wait. "So, close to five months now. Annie came before me."

[farmgrown]

Eight days. Annie's surprised, but only to an extent - she hadn't attempted to try and lay low upon first arriving here, but that was only because she hadn't known anyone, hadn't made the deliberate choice to do anything but try and proceed as normally as possible - but she imagines that Joan had tried to get an idea of everything, not wanting to try too much attention to herself as a newcomer, even if people seem to have a knack for identifying the latest additions in spite of attempts to blend in.

"I was only here about a month before that," she admits, without missing a beat. "Almost a month exactly, if I'm remembering the dates right, but - back home, it was after I was - well, the trip that I took to Sri Lanka, you remember, but Auggie - he showed up from a point much later after that."

[lysistrategic]

Five months. Six months. And neither of them showing a single one of their tells for skirting the truth. She begins to ask which of the trips to Sri Lanka but if she's with Auggie then Annie must've had sufficient time to get over Ben, which makes the first trip highly unlikely. This just got a lot more complicated, Joan realizes. Even if she doesn't believe what she's been told about the island, she must interact with Annie and Auggie as if it's true.

"I remember," Joan tells Annie and then adds, "We had a conversation afterwards. The night you stopped over after work. Do you remember it?" Her mind reels. If these are the real Annie and Auggie and she is really here, as opposed to any of the other insane scenarios she's come up with (which, really, are no less insane than what she's been told), then the Annie and Auggie at home might be plants...

Which is a highly unhelpful train of thought, and Joan purses her lips to cut it off. She would've known. "Auggie, when did you see me last?" It's an awkward question, but considering the pace she's driving them out of "the Compound" at and the number of people they're passing, it's as innocuous and informative as she can be.

[theblindguy]

With everything that's happened so far, this part of the island's weirdness had barely even crossed his mind until Annie brings up when she'd come from. Was Joan from their futures then, since she'd shown up on the island after the two of them? Is that how the island works?

"I haven't spoken to you since I left on my trip to Istanbul to the jazz festival over there," he explains, and while it's not something he wants to think about (and has tried not to on purpose), he is curious if she'd know what he's talking about. If she remembers after it. He's admittedly glad he'd come from before the long talk he's sure he had to sit through after what happened. "I was on my way home when I ended up here."

[farmgrown]

"This place, apparently it can take people from anywhere in the timeline of - well, their life, I guess," Annie replies. She has the excuse of Auggie's arm linked through hers to squeeze her hold a little tighter, as if through some power or force she can ensure that he won't be going anywhere, even with the uncertainty that surrounds so many of them. She's heard about what happens when people leave - one day they're here, and then the next day they're just gone.

"It didn't take us very long to figure out we had a few months' worth of time - things that he knew about that I hadn't even been through yet," she adds, as they continue walking a little further, her eyes on Joan all the while. "But apparently, that doesn't mean that the - versions of us who are there are just some weird body-snatchers. They're still us."

[lysistrategic]

It's fortunate, Joan reflects as she walks, that their jobs make them experts at dealing with information on the fly. Also at dealing with disconcerting news without revealing it. The only indication that she's distressed by anything she's heard is that her steps grow quicker and sharper as she approaches the door. She is not above wishing that this surreal dream or exercise or whatever it is will end now that she has found her operatives, and when she pulls open the door to the London snow, there is a brief moment, a tiny flicker of disappointment, one no one but Arthur (Arthur) would recognize when she is not somehow back at Allen's.

She reins in a sigh, scans the street, and turns right. There's a teahouse there that will suit. "Let's stick to what we actually know as opposed to our speculations, hm?" she says, much belatedly, as Annie and Auggie catch up with her again. It's sharper than she means to be, and when she tugs her jacket closed, she tips a very mildly apologetic look Annie's direction. "I remember a good deal more than either of you. Whatever the reason for that is, I suspect I ought to keep that knowledge to myself except to tell you that you're both still alive and well and so are the people you care about." Although the situation with Parker is not as Auggie wants it to be and Joan suspects Danielle's marriage may be in trouble, but those are details she needn't make them privy to. Not now.

[theblindguy]

The way Joan's pace suddenly changes is more than enough to tell him how Joan is probably feeling right now. It's how he felt too, in some ways, in that first month or two he'd been here. Still, he feels compelled to speak up when what she says is something he has some disagreement with.

"What Annie said is one of the few consistencies this place has had in people's stories and experiences I've heard in the last few months, and I think that's something worth noting. It's apparently been that way since the very beginning - whenever the very beginning of this place was. Some people have apparently been here for years," he explains, well aware it isn't exactly something worth dwelling on, but it's certainly nothing to wave off either. Intel from other people could be flimsy at best sometimes, but he experienced it himself - twice now, apparently, since Joan is from some time in a future he doesn't know.

That it's the only thing that could explain how Annie - or he, for that matter, in Joan's case - could be here on the island and back home at the same time does make it more compelling to believe, too. There hadn't even been a second where he doubted the Annie he knew for the months she doesn't remember, and there's been no doubt the one on the island is the same person. People could be fooled by looks (here now, especially, with this place's ability to bring people who look the same), but the way he knew her (knows everyone) can't be perfectly replicated so easily.

And how far in the past is Joan talking? Weeks? Months? Years? He's sure Annie would've reacted if Joan looked different than what they remember, so it can't be too far. He can understand why she wouldn't want to share the information she has with them - caution is just what they do. Instead, he settles for quipping, "Well, it's good to know I haven't been driven crazy back home, at least."

He glances Annie's way as he says it, mouth quirking up in a small, brief grin, as if saying he's sure she would've been to blame for that if he had been. It's certainly no time to be joking too much, but the little bit of levity is nice to have anyway. Knowing the people close to him are still fine, too, doesn't hurt. He's been thinking of them a lot lately, with the holidays coming and going.