Title: Whole Day Off (WDO)
Rating: Teen (PG)
Length: Seven chapters; 29,300 words
Dates written: 12/6/05; 25/6/05; 13-15/9/05
Warnings: Definite Bennett/Lee innuendoes, which could easily be platonic.
Other: Story notes at the end of the last chapter … Reviews don't mean that much to me, although I believe that when reading someone's work it's not always right to stay absolutely silent ... And of course, I don't own The Zeta Project.

o - o - o For Kelly o - o - o

one)

Jo was humming. She did a lot of that these days, almost as though the last fifteen sour years hadn't existed. They'd disappeared amid the mumbled, incoherent words of a classic pop song, were swept away by her saunter into the kitchen. The happiness was in the bright white tennis outfit she'd donned, in the red of a ripe strawberry as she pierced off its end. Some of that happiness managed to wind its way into her precious smile, wide and toothy, and bridge the distance between them.

"Good morning, James." She set the tennis racket over the arch of her slim shoulder, bent at the waist, and pecked her husband dutifully on the cheek. "You're up early."

James noticed she hadn't thrown a single glance at the computer on the table before him, to see if it was showing the local weather report or a government file. "I never have been much for sleeping in, Jo. You know that."

"Yes, Jim. I think you missed your calling as a crop farmer in Ohio. Isn't it supposed to be your day off?" she chirped affably while chewing the rest of the strawberry.

His first reaction was to grunt and ignore the jibe, until he realized how the comment was emotionally indirect. Jo returned to her humming, racket still poised on her shoulder, not a bit of concern if it was a legitimate day off from James's erratic, demanding schedule. He was an NSA agent, that was his job, and Jo knew that, though often wasn't accepting of his lengthy absences and acidic mood. All things considered, he decided the question was legitimate, but didn't require a response. He was sitting at the table in black trousers and a red percale shirt, hardly the uniform of an agent who expected to dart to the office any second. If she was as observant as she'd always claimed, the outfit would be noticed, her own question answered.

"Well, if you are home all day," she was looking over the daily calendar to see what the Bennett household would be up to, "answer the phone if the caterers call. I already programmed the food list into the phone, so give that to them, would you?"

He looked up at her: bouncy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, the skin tanned by the heavy Colorado sun, the distinctly feminine shape despite her age, her having given birth to one son. Momentarily, he wondered if any other man dared lay eyes on her the way he used to.

"What caterers?" he asked, removing his glasses and rubbing his brow. "I don't remember any—. Hang on, today's Saturday, isn't it? It's that Saturday!" He rubbed his brow harder, with both hands, to hide the mortification.

"You forgot?" Jo bounced the soft center of the tennis racket at the round bend of his shoulder. "You really, truly, actually forgot?"

"I've had a lot on my mind."

Jo pursed her lips, one hand magically floating to her hip. Whenever she did that, he knew he was in trouble. Fifteen years living with a woman, and you automatically know her kinesics. Everything else stays a mystery, but not those kinesics. Hand on hip. Frown. Dark storm clouds brewing behind the gray-green eyes. This was war.

To lessen the tension, he smirked. "At least I reminded myself. That's a change from the norm, isn't it?" He grabbed the racket's shaft, above her hand, and pulled in. Jo splashed to his knee. He caught her chin and placed an indulgent kiss on her cheek. "I remembered the anniversary part, but not about the big dinner party."

Jo weaned her stare from him. "I know how you feel about this party, Jim. But I think it's important. We've never made very many friends since we moved out here—"

A decision he'd always wanted to regret. He just wasn't the kind of man who had a lot of time to devote to regret. It takes a lot of extra hours to feel shame.

"And the few that we do have, well, they've never actually seen our house before. It'd be nice for them to know we don't live in a cardboard box. Wouldn't you agree?"

Before he could answer, Jo returned to her feet and headed for the exit. She stopped just over the threshold, in the foyer. The morning sun was oozing in the front windows, highlighting her hair and shadowing her eyes.

"I've got to go. It's almost time for me to pick up Bonnie. We're going out to lunch after a few matches, so don't expect me back until this afternoon. I think Jimmy's outside somewhere, probably with Frey. Remember what I told you about the caterers."

"I will," he nodded. She turned away. "Have a nice—" he tried to call out to her but heard the door to the garage open and close, "time."

The house seemed unearthly silent. It was mid-summer, already July, and in the nearby boughs that scraped the panes, he heard no birds chirping, no insects from the shrubbery, no cars trundling down the street. Then refrigerator kicked in, and the kitchen was filled with its calm whirring. James, sighing, turned back to the laptop. On the screen was the weather forecast, ironically not a government file, if only Jo had noticed . . .

Blindly, he focused on the computer. This home PC was different; it was the computer that Jimmy used for school work, where Jo ordered half her more elaborate pieces of wardrobe, where he, James Bennett, could catch up on what was happening in the rest of the world. Elections for Colorado governor were heating up . . . There was a drought out in Grand Junction, which he didn't understand why anyone bothered to report that year after year, as it'd ceased to be news . . . A tornado had touched down and caused rural damage in Sterling, weather that was about as opposite as one could get from Grand Junction . . . The transportation bureau had voted to add another lane of traffic to southbound I-25. Just as well. The road needed all the help it could get. Even he'd stopped taking it to work every day. He lived seventy miles from work, one way, purely by design. Living too close to the NSA field office would be like living too close to in-laws. They'd be over all the time, never be able to get rid of them; they'd bring bad food, have cookouts no one wanted to attend, etc. It was just better to live out of their reach.

His mobile unit rang. The keypad lit up like a copper-stuffed firecracker on the table beside the computer. For a moment, James let it ring, until he finished the last line of the text news article. He didn't even need to look at the caller identification to know who it was.

"It's my day off," he said as a greeting, replacing his typical "Agent Bennett" line. "Why are you calling me?"

"Yes, I know it's your day off," Gina Hattie said. She was his boss, the director of the NSA's technical operatives, like James. "We do keep track of that kind of stuff, Jim."

"I know you do, sir," he paused, "but you're not calling me for a friendly reminder of the NSA's code of conduct. What is it?"

A long breath came through the line. Director Hattie tended to sigh a lot, particularly when dealing with the Zeta Project task team. "Jim, are you aware that Agent Lee has—"

"We've discussed it." He cut her off, meaning to. It wasn't a subject he relished conversing. But he remained nonplussed. "Did she . . . Has she actually . . ."

"I'm staring at it right now."

He arched his eyes and mouthed a swear, already thankful this was an Ears Only call, and he didn't have to face Gina Hattie. He tried to go on before his silence was thought suspicious. "How long will it take for her transfer to go through?"

"Well, I've just received it today—"

"Lee shouldn't even be at work."

"I know, such a tragedy. What can I do about it? She's a workaholic. Reminds me of someone."

Him. She was reminded of him. Bennett didn't even dare smile, Ears Only or not.

"Besides, she's not here," Hattie suddenly said. "She even left early last night."

"Color me surprised," James murmured. "And good for her. How long, sir, until the transfer?"

"I don't know, Jim. Three months, maybe. All the directors here at Colspring will have to sign it, particularly Director Goubeaux and I. Then it'll head to Washington for more circulation. Colonel Lemak, obviously, will need to approve it. He'll be disappointed. He's wanted Lee to go back to Washington practically since she left. He'll be sorry to hear she wants to stay in Colorado."

Definitely insinuation in Hattie's voice, but Bennett knew better than to bring it up, or defend himself. Lee was switching teams, going from a technical operative to a field operative, and getting out from under Agent Bennett's shadow, if it could be called that, in the process. What he wanted to know was when it would happen. He knew more than he cared to know about the how and the why. But the when, he didn't know anything about the when. Now, it seemed, a clearer picture was developing. Three months. Ninety days. And he'd lose Lee.

He jumped ahead to the subject he knew Director Hattie would suspect of him. "Any signs of an agent to replace her?"

"I've not had a chance to go through personnel records and profiles as of yet. This was a surprise to me, Lee's request of transfer."

A surprise? James didn't wholly believe her. The threat had been looming since December of 2041, merely two months after the Major Trio was brought together to hunt and retrieve Infiltration Unit Zeta. As Lee had said to him during a recent antagonizing morning meeting, one of them would have to go in order to satisfy the directors. It would have to be Bennett, Lee, or West. Circumstance finally provided the candidate. Lee balked, lumped, couldn't take it anymore. In ninety days or less, she'd be gone.

"Director Hattie?" he started, and waited for her to acknowledge. "My only request is that you find someone who's got a bit more training than either West or Lee. Someone who's been around the block a few times. I don't mean an old fart like myself—" and Gina snickered at this "—but at least someone who, you know, has crow's feet."

A short pause sounded through the clear line. He knew she was thinking what he'd never speak. Someone who's married, happily married, would be particularly nice.

"It'll have to be a woman, James. Colonel Lemak will not waver on that issue."

"I'm aware of that," he said, holding back the urge to huff. "I know we can't have a prominent task team going after a prominent figure like Zeta while oozing testosterone and spewing out lines from every military film ever made."

"This isn't funny."

"Damn right it isn't. We're talking about my team, Director Hattie—my team. Not even together hardly a year, and already it's fallen apart. I've taken this very seriously, sir, every step of the way."

Another silence. Then, from Agent Hattie—

"I'll see what I can do to find you a proper, er, mentor for West. I suppose his hero-worship of you has gone on long enough, huh?" A gentle chortle rounded from deep within. A way of apologizing for having bothered him on his day off about something so obviously unpleasant.

"West doesn't hero-worship anyone. And if he does, I'd very much doubt it'd be me."

Agent Hattie understood what Bennett didn't say. West's mentor was Lee, through and through. Bennett was just an unfortunate side effect. Hattie cleared her throat and tried to assuage to the best of her ability. "I'll have you a list of candidates within a fortnight, Jim. That's the best I can do. You know this is a fragile situation. Your next agent will have to be chosen very carefully."

"Understood," Bennett murmured, his voice kept steady by years of training. "Meanwhile, I'll not mention this to anyone, and will go on pretending I don't know about Lee's resignation. I assume Agent West will be in the dark, too."

"That decision rests with Agent Lee."

A familiar chime sounded in the background of the telephone line. As suspected, Agent Hattie brusquely announced they'd chat tomorrow when he returned to the office. Then the call ended. James set the mobile down and once again focused on the weather report and mundane Colorado news. When the restlessness came, he jumped from the chair and decided it was time to brave the heat of the valley and have a jog. Maybe he'd just get lucky by coming down with heatstroke, then the whole slew of directors would have no other option but to give Agent Bennett a health sabbatical. A whole week or two to do nothing but sit about? James rubbed his face as he appeared on the front porch, now in jogging kit. A whole week or two without anything to do was like a nightmare, what with something like Zeta running renegade through an ignorant country blissfully unaware of its own troubles.

Work, Jim. Work is the only thing you really have to do. Everything else is secondary. You'll never forget that.

"And I need to stop thinking in second person," he murmured aloud and began an eight-minute pace around the neighborhood.