Written by Scooplet

Concept by Cheryl and Scooplet

Scarecrow and Mrs. King characters are the property of Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended. Not for commercial use. Sarah Stetson and Matt Granger are my creation, however, so please respect my right to claim ownership of them—I do not authorize permission to use them in stories not authored by me. Music lyrics from "His Eye is on the Sparrow" by Civilla D. Martin.

Note on this story: thank you for the many kind reviews and messages I have received for Parts One and Two of I Know He Watches Me. As I conclude this story and bring an end to this story arc, I want to thank you for your support. It has been a great pleasure to write these stories for you, fellow fans of Scarecrow and Mrs. King.

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I Know He Watches Me, Part Three

Chapter One

I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free

For His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

Late April 2012

From the way the light seeped through the closed blinds of their bedroom, Matt knew it must be mid-morning. He reached out towards Sarah's side of the bed, but he already had sensed she was not there. Grabbing his phone to check the time as he sat up, he could not believe how late it was. He had not slept like this since he had gotten the flu in college.

They had gone to bed much earlier than usual the night before, but despite their fatigue, Matt and Sarah had talked for a little while. Matt could not even remember all of their conversation, but they had both been glad to lie in their own bed together, wrapped in one another's arms.

The sound of feminine voices drifted up from downstairs and through the closed door. Listening for a moment, he grinned to himself. Sarah must be feeling better, at least emotionally. She sounded animated. Then he heard her join in when his mother laughed.

The sound of Sarah's laughter seemed to lift the cloud that Matt had felt hanging over him since Sarah had first shown signs of miscarrying their baby a week ago. He glanced at her side of the bed, then stared at the carpeting as he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He had been so tired the night before, it had barely registered in his mind that the bathroom had been cleaned. Now he really looked around. There was no trace of blood, nothing to indicate that Sarah had had her terrible experience just a few days before. In fact, the towels that Matt was sure he had ruined or lost at the hospital had been replaced. Nearly new, they had been wedding shower gifts. Matt had not had the time to find rags—he had grabbed what was nearby. The towels on the racks and in the linen cupboard looked as if they had just come from the store—but they were soft and smelled like laundry detergent.

After brushing his teeth and changing into some workout clothes, Matt made his way downstairs. Sarah was on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees and her back propped up by pillows, listening to Sharon. She turned to him and moved to get up when he reached the foot of the stairs, but he motioned for her to stay put. She placed her hands on his shoulders when he bent to kiss her.

"Hey, sleepyhead. I think that's the longest you've slept since we've been married." She scooted over and moved some pillows to make room for Matt to sit in the corner of the couch behind her.

"It's the longest I've slept in years." When he sat down next to Sarah, she leaned back and he wrapped an arm around her. It felt good to hold her like that. He turned to his mother. "Good morning, Mom. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept pretty well."

Knowing that for Sharon, "pretty well" meant not really, Matt grinned over at her as she stood in the kitchen doorway. "Missing Dad? I remember you never slept well when he was out of town."

"I guess that's it." Her eyes shadowed briefly as if that were not the only reason, but soon she was cheerful again. "Sarah told me how to make the smoothies you two like, so I have yours all ready to blend. I also made oatmeal I can warm up."

"Thanks, Mom. I'm starved. It's pretty nice of you to take care of us. I'm feeling spoiled."

"Oh, let me spoil you, son. Sarah told me about all of the things you've done for her."

Oh? Like leaving her home by herself when she was about to miscarry? The thought came unbidden, making Matt wince. He felt Sarah's hand on his leg, and he looked down at her.

Her expression was questioning, but she did not say anything.

"Thanks, Mom, but it was the least I could do." Eager to change the subject, Matt began asking his mother about his sisters, but before she could answer, the doorbell rang.

As Matt rose and went to the stairs, Sharon called after him, "That's probably Lee and Amanda. They called my phone to see if they could come by." The blender started up.

As he jogged down the stairs, Matt's mind traveled back fleetingly to the night before, when he and Sarah had been alone in bed. He wished they were there again—just the two of them, sharing their thoughts and holding one another. But he scolded himself. If his mom had not been there this morning, Sarah might have been standing in the kitchen for who knows how long making breakfast. Instead, she was chatting happily with his mother while she rested on the couch. And certainly Lee and Amanda had a right to visit with their daughter. He put on his most cheerful face as he reached the front door.

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Matt waited until Lee and Amanda had left and Sarah was taking a nap in their bedroom to bring up the subject of the bathroom with his mother. After helping his wife upstairs and into bed, he came back downstairs to find Sharon preparing dinner in the kitchen. Or rather, several dinners. She looked up from chopping vegetables as Matt surveyed the crowded kitchen counters.

"When you said you were going to get groceries, you weren't kidding. You've got enough here to feed several families, not just Sarah and me." Wishing to give Lee and Amanda some time alone with Sarah, Sharon had graciously ducked out of the house and driven Sarah's car to the store while Matt had worked out and showered.

"Well, I know some of the ladies from your church are bringing meals. These are going in the freezer. I'm making enough so you and Sarah won't have to cook for a couple of weeks." She pointed to the chicken. "That's for lunches. Not all of this is for dinners."

"This is really good of you, Mom."

"It's what moms do, hon."

Matt let that thought sit for a minute. Finally, he ventured, "Like clean up their children's homes? I don't know how you did it, but you can't tell anything happened in our bathroom or bedroom. I'm also guessing you bought us a bunch of new towels."

Sharon glanced up at him briefly, but her eyes went back to her work. "Yes, well… You said something about using towels for Sarah, and I saw a towel or two on the floor. After checking your linen cabinet and seeing several were missing, I figured out you had used the ones from your gift registry. So your dad went out and replaced them. They still have the same ones in the store."

"You cleaned the carpet, too. I'm sorry you had to go to all that trouble."

Sharon put the knife down and came over to her son. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I wanted to do it for you and Sarah. I can't imagine what it was like to find her like that, but I know what it's like, losing a baby. You went through so much last fall, and I couldn't be here to help you. It was the least I could do to lessen the trauma of things. You didn't need the reminder."

Nodding, Matt could not form a verbal reply. Instead he wrapped his arms around his mother and hugged her tight.

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Lee was attempting to concentrate on the computer screen late that afternoon, but his eyes kept going to Amanda, who was typing away on her own computer. Finally, she glanced over her reading glasses at him. "What's going on in that mind of yours, Stetson?" Her face softened. "Are you thinking about Emily?"

He picked up the pencil on his desk and began playing with it. "No. Not at the moment. Although I talked with Margaret a half an hour ago. Emily's been lucid today. She might be rallying a little."

"The doctor warned us not to get too excited if she did. People often do that shortly before the end."

"I know." He flipped the pencil around distractedly. "I was just thinking about the kids."

"Which ones? The grandkids?"

"You know. Sarah and Matt."

Amanda glanced at her computer screen and clicked her mouse. She looked back up at Lee. "It's pretty nice that Sharon could stay with them. Sarah would have been in that hospital another night. Just being home really seemed to boost her spirits."

"It's a miracle she's alive. If Matt hadn't gotten home when he did…" Lee grew silent and his eyebrows knit together.

"You know, something is eating at him. He's avoiding us, and he seems so tense when he is in the room." Amanda tapped her fingers on the desk. "He's got all the classic signs of feeling guilty for something, but I can't imagine what that could be. Phillip said he coordinated an operation from home so he could be with Sarah when she started feeling ill. It was the Kazakhs, of all people. Then he stayed for debriefing, even though he was anxious to get home—"

"A-man-da!"

Startled, Amanda glanced at Lee, who was rolling his eyes at her. "Oh, sorry. It's the jet lag. Makes me ramble. What was your point?"

"You're right about something eating at Matt, but it isn't his work responsibilities. I think he's doing the same thing I used to do when you were in trouble." Lee waited for a glimmer of recognition on Amanda's face.

It was soon apparent as she uttered, "He blames himself. For the miscarriage?"

"Or not being there when he thought he should be there."

"But why won't he talk to us?"

"This is all a guess, but maybe he feels he let us down, too."

Amanda stood, came over to Lee's side, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I remember calling your mother when you were shot…" He shook his head as if he were trying to clear the memory from his brain. "Listen, I got past it, but Matt's younger than I was. We're different in some ways. He's got this sense of duty that won't stop."

"We should talk with him."

"Yeah. I'll start working on him tomorrow. They don't need us visiting again today. Sarah's supposed to be sleeping a lot."

"Francine called me. She's worried that Wong is going to pester Sarah about coming in too soon."

"It's almost the weekend."

"Next week."

"That guy is a piece of work."

"Well, she didn't want us to get our hopes up yet, but she's got a plan."

Lee arched an eyebrow. "Really? That's the first good news I've heard all week."

"But she says we'll have to be patient."

His eyebrow returned to normal and he deflated a little. "Oh."

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"Listen, Matt. You can just say no. You don't owe this Sergey fellow anything. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but he has been mixed up in trouble since you've known him. Stay home with Sarah."

Under normal circumstances, Matt would not be sitting at home, talking about a case over the phone with Phillip. In fact, Phillip would not have been handling the logistics for him. But Matt felt no guilt about being home with Sarah, and he was grateful to his brother-in-law for covering for him where Rene could not.

But Sergey was still a concern. "Rene told me on the phone that he's worried about the Guatemalans now." Matt sat down on the freshly made bed, half listening to the shower in the next room. He had awakened before Sarah, and because of the early hour, he had remained in bed. Giving up on sleep, he had been content to lie there, listening to his wife's even breathing. Even though he had gone to bed after her, sometime during the night, Sarah had snuggled up against him, and he was grateful for her closeness. It made him think they might get back to normal someday, whatever normal was.

When Rene had called twenty minutes earlier, Sarah had awakened and gone to the bathroom to shower. Now the sound was reminding him of how he had found her slumped there. He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.

"Yeah, well. I guess he freaked out when Fisk told him he needed to be more worried about the cartel than the other Kazakhs. Now he doesn't trust us and wants to run."

"Why was Fisk there, anyway?"

"Fisk is willing to pull night duty."

"Why doesn't he just go back to Atlanta to be near his family? He must have kids." When he said the words, Matt felt a twinge. But it was not as painful as watching the couple bring home their baby from the hospital.

"I guess the wife moved the kids to Virginia when she got the job with ATF. He can pick them up after school if he works a late shift—or take them to school in the morning. Something like that. But you didn't call to talk about Fisk."

"It sounds like Sergey just needs some reassurance. But you're right, Phillip. I shouldn't leave. I'll give him a call."

The bathroom door opened and a moment later Matt felt a hand on his shoulder. He must not have heard the water shut off. He turned to face Sarah, who was standing next to the bed, wrapped in a towel. Phillip was saying something, but Matt found himself distracted by his wife. Her color was coming back, and she no longer looked as frail as she had in the hospital. He started to reach for her and stopped himself. Get a grip, idiot. She's still recovering from surgery and your mother is in the house.

"Matt! Are you still there?"

Rushing to cover for himself, Matt replied, "Hold on, Phillip. Sarah wants to say something."

She spoke up quickly. "I just caught the tail end of the conversation. You're telling Phillip about what Rene told you? You're going to the safe house, right?"

"No, I'm not leaving you home alone. You just got out of the hospital a couple of days ago."

"Your mom is here."

"She's going out with your mom for lunch, remember?"

"My dad was planning to come. He can make his phone calls or whatever from here. I'll take a nap or read."

With Phillip waiting on the phone, Matt could not argue with Sarah. He did not want to leave her. The last time he had left her at home because of work, he had almost lost her. Despite her improvement, she was still recovering. But there were plenty of people to keep an eye on her and Sergey might be on the verge of endangering himself.

He brought the phone back to his ear. "Phillip, can you notify the safe house that I'm going to pay a visit around one o'clock?"

Sarah was back in the bathroom, drying her hair, when Matt finished the call. Standing there in a bra and exercise pants, she seemed thinner than usual. He felt his throat constrict when he saw how flat her stomach was once again. She may not have been obviously showing when she was fully dressed, but he had not been blind to the difference three months of pregnancy had made in her figure. In fact, it had made her even more attractive to him. Now it was as if she had never been pregnant at all. Her pale skin stood out against the black pants and her dark hair. She was just as lovely as ever, but it hurt to look at her if he began to think too much.

She turned off the dryer and put it away, and then looked at him questioningly when she realized he was still there, leaning on the doorjamb.

Forcing himself to be cheerful, he said, "Thanks for that. For giving me the freedom to go help Sergey."

Sarah smiled at him in that way she always did when she caught him watching her in the bathroom. It was good to see her smile. But she seemed to sense his tension and instead of putting the hair dryer down and wrapping her arms around him as she usually would have done, she went into the closet for a shirt, raising her voice a little so he could still hear her. "It might be work, but you need to get out of the house. You've been cooped up in a hospital or in the townhouse for days."

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. She was right—he was feeling a bit squirrely from all the confinement. Perhaps Sarah was hoping to have a little break from his constant company, too.

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Fatigued after her shower, Sarah was content to lie back down on the bed while Matt lifted weights and ran on the treadmill. She wished she could go to the exercise room and sit while Matt worked out, but it was hard to go up and down stairs. Lying there, unable to go back to sleep, she felt an ache in her chest and her eyes stung—a feeling that seemed to come regularly in the last week. While she tried to be cheerful for Matt and Sharon, it did not take much for the tears to threaten to come.

When she heard Sharon leave the guest room, she got up and ventured downstairs. By the time she made it to the landing, she was growing dizzy. She clutched the railing for a moment and closed her eyes.

"Sarah! Let me help you."

She felt more than saw as Sharon put an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the couch. Sharon waited until Sarah was settled before she asked, "Did you have a dizzy spell? I saw you swaying there."

"Yeah, I guess so. I was up for a while taking a shower."

"Well, you're learning your limits. I'll bring you breakfast here. Just stay put." A few moments later, a glass of water appeared over Sarah's shoulder. "Drink this while you're waiting. Sip it."

"Everything okay here?" Matt was still breathing hard and his skin was glistening with sweat as he came up into the living room carrying a towel. He looked sharply at Sarah.

She was relieved when Sharon spoke up first. "Everything is fine. If you want to grab a quick shower, I'll have breakfast ready soon."

"Oh, Mom. I can make a couple of smoothies. You don't have to slave in there all the time."

"Nonsense. I know the recipe. Besides, I have a surprise planned to go with."

Matt smiled at his mother and stepped over to Sarah. He swiped the towel at his face and then leaned over gingerly to kiss Sarah on the forehead, but she moved her face so their lips could touch.

The kiss did not last long, as Matt pulled quickly away. "Hey, I'll get you all sweaty." He turned to go upstairs and called over his shoulder. "I'll be back in twenty."

Feeling that ache once again in her chest, Sarah watched him go. Guessing it must be postpartum emotions, she tried to brush off the sense of insecurity she felt over Matt's reaction to her kiss.

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"But Agent Granger, there will be a baby soon." Seated on one of the couches in the safe house living room, Sergey grew agitated and leaned forward to make his point.

Matt was painfully aware of the need to protect the pregnant Yana. If only he could have done something to prevent Sarah's miscarriage and the loss of their baby. He pushed his feelings down and concentrated on Sergey.

"I'm aware of that, Sergey. And call me Matt."

"Matt." Sergey paused, as if to think of the words he needed. His English was very good, but he still struggled with the language at times. "We cannot have Yana in danger. If I leave, the Guatemalans will not know what happened to me. Yana and Alexei can go somewhere else."

Glancing about the room, Matt had to agree that the tiny, rundown bungalow lacked the appeal of the townhouse that he and Sarah had shared the previous fall. That had been an extravagance only Lee could have finagled. The small, older home in need of renovations on a quiet street not far from the airport would be crowded once three adults and a baby were living there. As it was, the floor plan had been cramped further by the addition of a security post in a separate part of the house, where the surroundings could be monitored and agents could remain on duty without infringing on the occupants' privacy. Despite the humble nature of the living arrangements, it was a boon for Sergey, as it was provided at no cost to a foreign national who had nearly committed a federal offense.

"Sergey, you don't understand the kind of protection you are being offered. You are throwing away the gift of security. We will keep you here, in a safe place, until your legal issues are settled. Yana and Alexei can join you here before the baby comes. You should be able to leave for a new home far away from D.C. by the summer."

"But what about the Guatemalans? They will follow us."

"They have other concerns, Sergey. You will have new identities. You'll be able to work and live without people guarding you all the time."

"And we will never see our families again."

"Not for some time. But they will be safe." Matt remembered the thugs from the restaurant in Almaty. They had probably been the ones to purchase the drug that had nearly killed him. "If you're thinking about your cousins, we both know they have their own network of protection." He stood. "I need to get back to my wife. I've been gone too long already."

"You will come again? When Yana and Alexei are here? We should meet your wife."

Matt was ready with an excuse—it was against procedure for him to make any more visits. Additionally, Sarah had enough going on without rubbing shoulders with Kazakhs who were in trouble. Besides, he did not want to mix business with family. He had not told them about the baby or the miscarriage, but had made a vague excuse for his abbreviated visit by saying she was home recovering from surgery. Yet he felt responsible in some way for these three people who were likely never to see their homeland again. It was likely that Yana and Alexei would be debriefed at the Agency.

"I cannot come back here, Sergey. It puts you at risk, for one thing. Perhaps we can see each other again somehow." He reached out to shake Sergey's hand. "I wish you all the best."

"My best to your wife."

Matt nodded at Sergey and signaled to the camera by the door so he could begin the procedure for leaving the safe house. After being checked out the back door and snaking through two backyards, Matt finally reached the Charger and headed for home.