A Little Favor For Francine
by rankamateur
Remember in "The Triumvirate" when Francine was shot by the hit man, Jepperd? This is just a little follow-up.
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
References to "The Triumvirate", written by Robert Bielak; "Fast Food For Thought", written by Robert Gilmer and "Life Of The Party", written by Stephen Hattman
Thanks to buffy--again--for her help and suggestions. All remaining mistakes are mine.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Francine was shot? She was actually shot and wounded?" Amanda looked from her boss, Billy Melrose, to her partner, Lee Stetson.
"Yeah," Lee nodded, "shot and wounded before she could get out of the suite."
"Oh my gosh!" Amanda wrung her hands. "That's awful. I feel just terrible . . . "
"Don't worry, Amanda," Billy reassured her. "It's not serious, just a flesh wound. But they wanted to keep her there for a day or two, so it was decided that she'd have her annual Agency physical, as long as she's in the hospital anyway. Actually, this is more like a *bi-annual* physical. She's not gettin' out of it this time."
"Oh, that's a relief. I hate to think of Francine getting hurt while she was stuck protecting me. I'll have to go by and thank her."
"Good idea," Billy concurred. "She's in Galilee General, room 715. And as long as you're going--there's a favor you could do for me. Ahh, she asked if I could stop by her apartment and pick up a robe and nightie. Ahh, something in blue . . . . She doesn't like the gowns the hospital provides. Not her style," he looked down at the floor. "I've got a full schedule today, so it's going to be hard to find the time to do this for her. Amanda, do you think . . . "
"Of course, Sir. I'd be happy to pick those up for you--for her."
"Good." Billy reached into his coat pocket. "Here are her keys." He held one apart from the others. "This one is for the front door."
Amanda took the key ring and smiled at her partner. "Umm, Lee . . . "
"Sorry, Amanda. I wish I could go with you, but I've got to meet a contact in half an hour."
"A contact? Maybe I should go with you and back you up." Truth be told, she'd rather go with Lee than go see Francine.
"No, no. That's not necessary. This contact is an old friend and we're meeting in a very public place. There's no danger. You go on and take care of your little errand. I'll be fine." The warmth of his smile was reflected in his eyes, as he looked down at her. He took her hand and then immediately released it, when he realized that the blinds on the windows of Billy's office were wide open. "You, ahh, you go on ahead and I'll see you later."
"Okay. But you be careful. See you later, Sir."
"Bye, Amanda." Billy sat down at his desk and watched as she walked through the bullpen and out the glass doors.
------------------
Amanda turned in her badge, exchanged good-byes with Mrs. Martson and left the building. It was nice to be out in the bright sunshine.
Driving away from The Agency, Amanda decided that she had better stop by her own home first and pick up something to put Francine's things in. She had a garment bag that should work just fine.
With the boys in school and her mother out, probably shopping, it took only a few minutes to retrieve the bag and get back on the road.
---------------------------------------------------------
A short time later, she arrived in the up-scale neighborhood where Francine's apartment building was located. Luckily, she found a parking place close by.
Amanda turned the key and opened the door with no small amount of trepidation. After all, she had never actually been invited into Francine's home. Stepping into the entry, she could see the living and dining rooms. The apartment seemed to be a little smallish, but tastefully and expensively furnished. Of course, Amanda preferred the warm, homey Colonial style of her own home to this modern decor.
She checked the kitchen. It didn't look much used.
And then she found the bedroom. It too, while not large, seemed to have come from the pages of *Homes Of The Rich And Famous*. The dressing table held an array of unpronounceable French perfumes in small crystal containers. The accessories--mirror, brush, combs and such, probably were imported too.
Well, she hadn't come here to do an inventory. She had a purpose.
'WOW!'
Amanda was aware that her co-worker had a collection of designer originals, but opening the louvered doors and looking in--she was sure Francine's closet must resemble a small corner of Paris. That expensive, elegant, tres chic corner where The House Of Dior was located! She could easily imagine the hangers conversing in French. Not that she would have understood them, of course.
She picked out a silk nightgown in a delicate shade of blue and an exquisite matching peignoir. There was a pair of slippers, in the same shade of blue. Not much like the plain, practical pair that Amanda had at home. These had two inch heels and a kind of fuzzy little decorative doohickey. They reminded her of something the wealthy heroine in an old movie from the 1930s might wear. And they didn't look very comfortable, either.
"Oh well, I'll just take these and see if they meet with madame's approval." Amanda joked to herself. Or to the French-speaking hangers.
-----------------------------------------
Francine lay back on the pillows, eyes closed, only half listening to the murmur of dialog from the TV. A documentary on the Silicon Valley, or something equally boring, she thought.
Her leg didn't hurt too much, as long as she was careful. She had taken a bullet from an internationally known hit-man--who was after Amanda King.
'Unbelievable!'
She could picture herself getting shot while saving the President of the United States or maybe the First Lady. Or even the Ambassador from one of America's close allies. But all this discomfort and inconvenience for Amanda? A housewife who wouldn't have been hanging around The Agency, if it hadn't been for Lee Stetson.
'Handing an important package to a stranger. Just because it worked once.' She would never do anything like that!
Of course, if pressed, she would admit, however grudgingly, that Amanda *had* come in handy on occasion--well, on several occasions. At least as far as saving the great Scarecrow's posterior was concerned. It seemed to be the general consensus around the office that he was a better, more careful agent since he had been working with Mrs. King.
And she had done a pretty good job when the two of them were working undercover as maids. In fact, Amanda had shown a level of courage and commitment that had taken Francine by surprise. Then there was the time they were locked in a meat freezer. After getting past some initial friction due mainly, she admitted, to a flash of bad memories on her part, Francine had to give credit to Amanda for joking and keeping up their spirits. She had to laugh. There they were, naming their favorite forms of chocolate while the room was getting colder and colder and their oxygen supply was being used up rapidly!
So maybe, perhaps, taken altogether, Amanda King was worth taking a bullet for. Certainly as worthwhile as taking a slug for Ephraim Beamon. Taking a slug? She'd like to give him a slug!
Besides, this whole episode had got her time off, tons of flowers and get-well cards and an official Commendation for her Agency file.
She smiled to herself. She could live with the situation. Well, with everything except this declasse gown. She wished Billy would hurry up and bring her own nightie and robe from home. Maybe some slippers too. These paper slip-on things didn't keep her feet warm and besides, they were so . . . so. Words failed her.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep, there was a light knock and the door opened slowly. But the face that appeared didn't belong to Billy Melrose. It was Amanda.
"Hi, Francine. How do you feel? Can I get you something to drink? Do you want a different channel on the TV? Are they feeding you OK? I have a nightie and robe and slippers. I hope they're the ones you wanted."
'Good grief!' She ground her teeth. 'If I had my gun . . . . we might be sharing a room.'
"Amanda! Billy should have called and said you were coming over instead of him. Well, let's see what you brought."
Unzipping the garment bag, Amanda carefully removed the fragile contents and laid them out on the end of the bed. She felt rather like a lady-in-waiting to some princess or something.
Francine let out a sigh of relief as she reached down and fingered the shimmery material. Perfect. Just what she would have chosen.
"Francine, I just heard this morning about you getting shot. And I just want to say how sorry I am and how grateful I am. I mean, if you hadn't told me to get out of there . . . he might have shot me too. Or me instead . . . " Amanda stumbled to a halt. Her voice catching in her throat and her eyes filling with tears. She had a sudden image of the day before--when she was handcuffed to a post, waiting for the lethal injection that would end her life. If Lee and Mr. Melrose hadn't shown up when they did . . . . She forced herself to push aside that terrible memory and to focus on the present and the thanks she felt she owed her colleague. She cleared her throat and patted Francine's arm.
"All right, Amanda, don't get all sloppy and sentimental on me. I was just doing my job. Nothing more. Watching out for a civilian. That's what we agents do."
"I know." Francine had misunderstood that unbidden display of emotion, but that was okay. "I know it was your job, but I'm grateful anyway. You'll just have to put up with it. So, if there's nothing else I can do for you or get for you, I'd better be going. I promised to help Philip with his history assignment."
"No, there's nothing, so go ahead. And, Amanda . . . "
She stopped in the doorway, "What?"
"Thanks."
Amanda smiled and let the door shut behind her. '--just doin' her job--nothing more--. Sounds like Lee used to. Heck, maybe one day she'll change her mind too.'
end
by rankamateur
Remember in "The Triumvirate" when Francine was shot by the hit man, Jepperd? This is just a little follow-up.
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
References to "The Triumvirate", written by Robert Bielak; "Fast Food For Thought", written by Robert Gilmer and "Life Of The Party", written by Stephen Hattman
Thanks to buffy--again--for her help and suggestions. All remaining mistakes are mine.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Francine was shot? She was actually shot and wounded?" Amanda looked from her boss, Billy Melrose, to her partner, Lee Stetson.
"Yeah," Lee nodded, "shot and wounded before she could get out of the suite."
"Oh my gosh!" Amanda wrung her hands. "That's awful. I feel just terrible . . . "
"Don't worry, Amanda," Billy reassured her. "It's not serious, just a flesh wound. But they wanted to keep her there for a day or two, so it was decided that she'd have her annual Agency physical, as long as she's in the hospital anyway. Actually, this is more like a *bi-annual* physical. She's not gettin' out of it this time."
"Oh, that's a relief. I hate to think of Francine getting hurt while she was stuck protecting me. I'll have to go by and thank her."
"Good idea," Billy concurred. "She's in Galilee General, room 715. And as long as you're going--there's a favor you could do for me. Ahh, she asked if I could stop by her apartment and pick up a robe and nightie. Ahh, something in blue . . . . She doesn't like the gowns the hospital provides. Not her style," he looked down at the floor. "I've got a full schedule today, so it's going to be hard to find the time to do this for her. Amanda, do you think . . . "
"Of course, Sir. I'd be happy to pick those up for you--for her."
"Good." Billy reached into his coat pocket. "Here are her keys." He held one apart from the others. "This one is for the front door."
Amanda took the key ring and smiled at her partner. "Umm, Lee . . . "
"Sorry, Amanda. I wish I could go with you, but I've got to meet a contact in half an hour."
"A contact? Maybe I should go with you and back you up." Truth be told, she'd rather go with Lee than go see Francine.
"No, no. That's not necessary. This contact is an old friend and we're meeting in a very public place. There's no danger. You go on and take care of your little errand. I'll be fine." The warmth of his smile was reflected in his eyes, as he looked down at her. He took her hand and then immediately released it, when he realized that the blinds on the windows of Billy's office were wide open. "You, ahh, you go on ahead and I'll see you later."
"Okay. But you be careful. See you later, Sir."
"Bye, Amanda." Billy sat down at his desk and watched as she walked through the bullpen and out the glass doors.
------------------
Amanda turned in her badge, exchanged good-byes with Mrs. Martson and left the building. It was nice to be out in the bright sunshine.
Driving away from The Agency, Amanda decided that she had better stop by her own home first and pick up something to put Francine's things in. She had a garment bag that should work just fine.
With the boys in school and her mother out, probably shopping, it took only a few minutes to retrieve the bag and get back on the road.
---------------------------------------------------------
A short time later, she arrived in the up-scale neighborhood where Francine's apartment building was located. Luckily, she found a parking place close by.
Amanda turned the key and opened the door with no small amount of trepidation. After all, she had never actually been invited into Francine's home. Stepping into the entry, she could see the living and dining rooms. The apartment seemed to be a little smallish, but tastefully and expensively furnished. Of course, Amanda preferred the warm, homey Colonial style of her own home to this modern decor.
She checked the kitchen. It didn't look much used.
And then she found the bedroom. It too, while not large, seemed to have come from the pages of *Homes Of The Rich And Famous*. The dressing table held an array of unpronounceable French perfumes in small crystal containers. The accessories--mirror, brush, combs and such, probably were imported too.
Well, she hadn't come here to do an inventory. She had a purpose.
'WOW!'
Amanda was aware that her co-worker had a collection of designer originals, but opening the louvered doors and looking in--she was sure Francine's closet must resemble a small corner of Paris. That expensive, elegant, tres chic corner where The House Of Dior was located! She could easily imagine the hangers conversing in French. Not that she would have understood them, of course.
She picked out a silk nightgown in a delicate shade of blue and an exquisite matching peignoir. There was a pair of slippers, in the same shade of blue. Not much like the plain, practical pair that Amanda had at home. These had two inch heels and a kind of fuzzy little decorative doohickey. They reminded her of something the wealthy heroine in an old movie from the 1930s might wear. And they didn't look very comfortable, either.
"Oh well, I'll just take these and see if they meet with madame's approval." Amanda joked to herself. Or to the French-speaking hangers.
-----------------------------------------
Francine lay back on the pillows, eyes closed, only half listening to the murmur of dialog from the TV. A documentary on the Silicon Valley, or something equally boring, she thought.
Her leg didn't hurt too much, as long as she was careful. She had taken a bullet from an internationally known hit-man--who was after Amanda King.
'Unbelievable!'
She could picture herself getting shot while saving the President of the United States or maybe the First Lady. Or even the Ambassador from one of America's close allies. But all this discomfort and inconvenience for Amanda? A housewife who wouldn't have been hanging around The Agency, if it hadn't been for Lee Stetson.
'Handing an important package to a stranger. Just because it worked once.' She would never do anything like that!
Of course, if pressed, she would admit, however grudgingly, that Amanda *had* come in handy on occasion--well, on several occasions. At least as far as saving the great Scarecrow's posterior was concerned. It seemed to be the general consensus around the office that he was a better, more careful agent since he had been working with Mrs. King.
And she had done a pretty good job when the two of them were working undercover as maids. In fact, Amanda had shown a level of courage and commitment that had taken Francine by surprise. Then there was the time they were locked in a meat freezer. After getting past some initial friction due mainly, she admitted, to a flash of bad memories on her part, Francine had to give credit to Amanda for joking and keeping up their spirits. She had to laugh. There they were, naming their favorite forms of chocolate while the room was getting colder and colder and their oxygen supply was being used up rapidly!
So maybe, perhaps, taken altogether, Amanda King was worth taking a bullet for. Certainly as worthwhile as taking a slug for Ephraim Beamon. Taking a slug? She'd like to give him a slug!
Besides, this whole episode had got her time off, tons of flowers and get-well cards and an official Commendation for her Agency file.
She smiled to herself. She could live with the situation. Well, with everything except this declasse gown. She wished Billy would hurry up and bring her own nightie and robe from home. Maybe some slippers too. These paper slip-on things didn't keep her feet warm and besides, they were so . . . so. Words failed her.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep, there was a light knock and the door opened slowly. But the face that appeared didn't belong to Billy Melrose. It was Amanda.
"Hi, Francine. How do you feel? Can I get you something to drink? Do you want a different channel on the TV? Are they feeding you OK? I have a nightie and robe and slippers. I hope they're the ones you wanted."
'Good grief!' She ground her teeth. 'If I had my gun . . . . we might be sharing a room.'
"Amanda! Billy should have called and said you were coming over instead of him. Well, let's see what you brought."
Unzipping the garment bag, Amanda carefully removed the fragile contents and laid them out on the end of the bed. She felt rather like a lady-in-waiting to some princess or something.
Francine let out a sigh of relief as she reached down and fingered the shimmery material. Perfect. Just what she would have chosen.
"Francine, I just heard this morning about you getting shot. And I just want to say how sorry I am and how grateful I am. I mean, if you hadn't told me to get out of there . . . he might have shot me too. Or me instead . . . " Amanda stumbled to a halt. Her voice catching in her throat and her eyes filling with tears. She had a sudden image of the day before--when she was handcuffed to a post, waiting for the lethal injection that would end her life. If Lee and Mr. Melrose hadn't shown up when they did . . . . She forced herself to push aside that terrible memory and to focus on the present and the thanks she felt she owed her colleague. She cleared her throat and patted Francine's arm.
"All right, Amanda, don't get all sloppy and sentimental on me. I was just doing my job. Nothing more. Watching out for a civilian. That's what we agents do."
"I know." Francine had misunderstood that unbidden display of emotion, but that was okay. "I know it was your job, but I'm grateful anyway. You'll just have to put up with it. So, if there's nothing else I can do for you or get for you, I'd better be going. I promised to help Philip with his history assignment."
"No, there's nothing, so go ahead. And, Amanda . . . "
She stopped in the doorway, "What?"
"Thanks."
Amanda smiled and let the door shut behind her. '--just doin' her job--nothing more--. Sounds like Lee used to. Heck, maybe one day she'll change her mind too.'
end