Author: Vikki
Disclaimer: The usual disclaimers apply. The SMK characters
and the Agency belong to Warner Brothers, Shoot the Moon Productions, and
a bunch of other lucky folks. I am borrowing them for my own enjoyment,
and I'm not profiting from doing so. References are made to "The
Triumvirate," "Photo Finish," and "Mission of Gold." Credit for those
episodes belongs to the individual writers.
The song, 'Give Me Wings,' is by Rhonda Fleming & Don Schlitz (Irving
Music, Inc.,/Eaglewood Music (BMI)/MCA Music, A Division of MCA Inc.,/Don
Schlitz Music) Song lyrics are indented.
This story, exclusive of the aforementioned, is mine. Please
don't reproduce or distribute it without my permission.
Archiving: Emily Ann and Merel have blanket permission to archive
any story I post. Anyone else, please ask first.
Timing: Late fourth season. Amanda has recovered from the
gunshot wound she sustained in "Mission of Gold" and has been released
for active field duty.
Summary: For federal agents, risk and loss come with the territory.
How far will Lee go to keep Amanda out of the danger zone?
Feedback: Yes, definitely. All comments are welcome.
Special Thanks to Pam, who rescued this story from my "hopeless" file
and gently pushed and prodded me until I completed it - and to Dix, who
laughed with me, not at me, when she asked "What the heck does this passage
mean?" and I said "I don't have a clue."
******************************************************
He asked her, what gifts can I
bring you
To prove that my love for you
is true
I want to make you mine forever
There's nothing on this earth
I would not do
It was exquisite.
The fine, etched crystal seemed almost weightless in her grasp, reminding
her of the old-fashioned spun sugar candy her grandmother had been fond
of crafting more than thirty years ago. As she held the vase toward
the window and rotated it to view the intricate engraving, the sun's rays
reflected the movement, sending dozens of tiny rainbows shimmering onto
the wall to her left. Even the slight motion resulting from her shallow
breathing caused the colors to shift and dance, and for a moment she was
mesmerized by undulating hues and patterns. Absently, she wondered
how it was possible for human hands to create something so delicate and
perfect yet with obvious function.
As she turned to meet her husband's expectant gaze, her initial wonderment
yielded to a fleeting surge of pique followed by a perverse wave of melancholy.
For one bitter moment, she longed for a marriage free of the subterfuge
that seemed to permeate every aspect of her relationship with Lee Stetson,
and she coveted the normalcy which would allow her to accept a token of
her spouse's affection without worrying about someone else's reaction or
suspecting an ulterior motive.
Even before her customary cheerfulness began to reassert itself, she
couldn't help being touched by the tenderness evident in Lee's hazel orbs.
She was certain there was more than one incentive behind his generosity,
but she knew he didn't bring her gifts merely to tie her to her desk.
He had a sincere desire to surround the woman he loved with beautiful things.
Lowering her eyes, she took a visual inventory of his most recent offerings.
On her first day back in the office, he had presented her with an elegant
day-planner bound in rich, burgundy leather. A few days later, a
pewter paperweight, molded into a miniature replica of a train engine,
had appeared on a stack of memos. Then, a classic gold pen and pencil
set, inscribed "AMANDA'S" had found it's way into her desk drawer.
She smiled as she recalled his conspiratorial grin when he held the two
writing implements up to a magnifying glass, revealing that each apostrophe
was actually a tiny heart. Her own heart had melted when he playfully
explained it would be their secret that the inscription actually stood
for 'Amanda Stetson.'
She set the crystal vase onto the desk and folded her hands on the smooth,
wooden surface, searching for words to open a discussion Lee had been avoiding
since she had returned to work. "It's beautiful, Lee," she began,
"but-"
"The flowers you bring from your garden . . . " he interrupted, shoving
his hands into his pockets as he shifted restlessly from foot to foot,
"deserve something nicer than that." He nodded toward the dime store
vase on the corner of her desk before focusing on a spot somewhere over
her head.
"Lee . . ." she repeated, drawing his name out in a patient attempt
to gain his attention without losing her own composure. "This is
beautiful, and I love it . . ." she paused, deciding to try an indirect
approach, "but don't you think something this expensive is going
to lead to a lot of questions?"
He met her eyes then, apparently baffled by her reference to the value
of his gift. He clearly hadn't anticipated an argument over
money. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she continued in measured tones, "that most of the people
who come into this office have a very good idea of the salary earned by
a trainee agent. And the cost of this . . ." she gestured toward
the vase, "could pay for my groceries for a couple of months."
Realization dawned in his eyes, but a moment later they narrowed, and
Amanda recognized the determination in his expression. "Anyone who
wastes time evaluating your desk accessories doesn't have enough work to
do," he stated gruffly.
"Maybe not," she agreed mildly. "But this is inviting speculation."
"I want you to have it," he said, a note of pleading in his forceful
tone. Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced a path from her
desk to the vault, then returned to lean toward her, both palms flat on
her desk. "I want to be able to show my wife how much I love her."
"You do that every day." At his derisive snort, she offered a
dainty shrug and a wan smile. "At least . . . every day that we see
each other," she amended.
She saw the shadow of pain that passed over his features at her open
acknowledgement of the limits imposed by their mystery marriage, and she
wished she could take back the unintentionally hurtful words.
"I want to do more," he responded in a husky whisper.
She said, anything I've wanted
You have given willingly
So now there's only one more thing
I need
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how
to sing
If you love me, give me wings
What he wanted was to keep her in the office, out of harm's way.
And part of her wanted to stay.
Her life had been in danger dozens of times during the past four years,
but she had managed to avoid dwelling on the risks inherent in her job
until she was wounded in California. During her long and painful
recovery, she had far too much time to contemplate her own mortality, and
she had been forced to consider how her death might impact her mother and
her sons.
But she had been unprepared for the reaction of the man who was her
partner, best friend and husband. At least Mother and the boys felt
a certain security in knowing that her being shot had been a chance occurrence
and the belief, however unfounded, that it wasn't likely to be repeated.
Despite all logical arguments to the contrary, Lee held himself personally
responsible for her injury, and he seemed to consider it an omen of worse
things to come. His natural protectiveness toward her, evident from
the beginning of their working relationship, had grown over the course
of the past few weeks into a nearly frantic need to keep her safe, at any
cost.
Did he even see what he was doing? She couldn't be sure.
He was too skillful in evading her efforts to discuss the matter.
Amanda realized that she was more attuned to his fears and feelings than
he was himself. He probably didn't even recognize that so many of
his gifts were chosen to make her hours spent in the office more attractive.
In the week since Dr. Kelford had stamped "Return to Active Duty" on
her medical file, he had become even more evasive, and they had managed
to avoid a confrontation on the issue only because of an unexpected lull
in the work flow. Billy hadn't assigned any new cases to the Q Bureau
- so the two of them had spent most of their working hours finishing
old reports, filing, and completing mundane busywork. But this morning
they had a new assignment, and Amanda knew intuitively that it was the
kind of case where she should be with Lee, watching his back. Anytime
he felt a personal stake, he was apt to become so focused on his goal that
he ignored the risks along the way.
So what would she do? It was difficult enough to conquer her own
demons. How could she overcome his fears, too?
She reached out and trailed her fingers gently across his cheek before
laying them across his left hand. Lightly, she touched the place
where his wedding band should have been. "You've given me more than
I ever dreamed possible," she said softly. "But the one thing I need
the most, you won't even talk about."
The hand Amanda was caressing balled into a fist; Lee looked almost
panicked when she grasped his wrist to prevent him from backing away.
"I've been approved for field duty." She spoke evenly, meeting
his eyes with a calmness she didn't feel. "And I need your help."
"You don't have to go back until you're ready," he said, his gaze dropping
to the smoky gray train engine. She wondered whether he had purposely
misunderstood her. "You don't ever have to go back," he added in
a voice so low she had to strain to make out his words.
Amanda gave Lee's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "I
don't need you to hold me back, Lee. I need you to help me
move forward. And I can't move past . . . what happened in California
. . . until you do, too."
Lee straightened abruptly and paced across the office a second time.
"I'm not trying to hold you back," he said, ignoring her reference to the
trauma they had endured on their California honeymoon.
"You're trying to keep me out of the field. When the Security
Review Board pulled my badge last fall, you were on my side. Now
you're the one trying to clip my wings."
His look told her he remembered the time, not many months previously,
when he fought for her right to work with him. "It's not that simple.
You haven't watched someone you love gunned down before your eyes."
"No," she conceded. "But I've watched someone I love accused of
treason and hunted down like a dangerous animal. I've watched someone
I love come within a few hours of dying of a Russian virus and within a
few seconds of being poisoned by a dead man's watch." She stopped
to let her words sink in before continuing. "And I never stopped
believing in you."
Amanda watched his jaw work silently, and she knew much more needed
to be said. "You know I have good instincts," she pressed, "and I'm
almost half way through my formal training. I need you to believe
in me again."
He walked over to the window
Silently stared into space
He said, I just want to protect
you
'Cause this world is a dangerous
place
Lee ceased his pacing and stood stiffly beside the window, staring out
into the street below. Amanda watched as he took a deep breath and
exhaled slowly. "Sometimes instincts and training aren't enough."
The words were low, with a sharp edge of rancor, and as he spoke, Lee turned
toward his desk. Amanda followed his gaze to the manila folder Billy
had given him that morning. The file was unmarked, but she knew it
was Dan Pearson's, and she knew the scenario it described:
highly skilled, well-respected agent - on his way to
a routine meeting with a contact - killed in an ambush by assailants unknown.
"Even the best die."
"So do Arlington housewives," she responded quietly, glancing briefly
at the sympathy card she had been writing when Lee entered the office.
He turned to her then, meeting her eyes in understanding. "Yeah,"
he said, his voice almost inaudible. Closing his eyes for a moment,
he shook his head slightly. She watched his throat muscles contract
as he swallowed.
Amanda blinked back the moisture that threatened to obscure her vision.
Crying never solved anything, she reminded herself resolutely as the image
of her neighbor, Mary Beth Watson, flashed across her memory. They
had been friends for more than a dozen years, and her death had been all
the more painful for being completely unexpected and totally senseless.
Like Amanda, Mary Beth had been in the wrong place at the wrong time:
struck by a drunk driver while loading groceries into her car in the parking
lot of the Jiffy Market. The shock had helped Amanda focus on getting
back into life - but it had the opposite effect on Lee. In the few
days since Mary Beth's funeral, he had become even more entrenched in his
efforts to shield her from every peril.
She wasn't surprised when Lee suddenly began moving again, pacing briskly
a few times across the office before stopping at his desk. He rubbed
his hands together and then looked down at his wristwatch. "Look,"
he stated with a false air of cheerfulness, as he grabbed his car keys
from the bookcase behind his desk, "I need to track down Jimmy Davis before
we're going to have any solid leads. We can discuss this later."
"I'm going with you," she said calmly, reaching into her desk drawer
to remove her purse.
"I can handle it."
She arched a sculpted brow as she waited for him to realize the absurdity
of claiming he didn't need backup while meeting with the same contact Pearson
had planned to meet the day he was ambushed. She didn't have to wait
long. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before he began to shift
his gaze around the office in a distracted manner.
"I think there could be a clue in this." He picked up a slim black
notebook embossed with the initials "DP" and shook it slightly, his words
quick and agitated. "Crypto's been through it already, looking for
clues, but you might be able to find something . . . ."
"I'm going with you," she repeated. "You need backup, and I'm
not letting you go alone."
"Amanda . . . " He drew her name out in the way he always did
when he was frustrated. After a moment, however, his shoulders slumped,
as though he knew his position was indefensible. "It's dangerous,"
he mumbled, "and . . ."
She put her arms around him
She said, I know you mean well
But there are lessons I must learn
for myself
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how
to sing
You can trust me, give me wings
Rising gracefully, Amanda walked across the room until she stood behind
him. Encircling his waist with both arms, she laid her head against
his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles through the coarse
fabric of his jacket. After a long moment, he turned within her embrace,
his own arms coming around her. He brushed a light kiss across her
forehead before resting his head against hers. "And what?" she questioned
gently.
"And I don't want to lose you." His words were muffled against
her hair.
"There's more than one way to lose someone," she whispered, her voice
unsteady. Raising her head to look at him, she look a deep breath.
"I'm not going to stay behind this time."
Understanding flickered in his eyes. "I'm not trying to leave
you behind," he said, his tone hesitant and uncertain.
"But that's exactly what you're doing." She removed her arms from
around him and took a step back. "I know you mean well, Lee, but
you have to trust me to be beside you."
She said, up above the clouds,
you can see forever
And I know you and I can learn
to fly together
If you love me, give me wings
Don't be afraid if I fly
A bird in a cage will forget how
to sing
You can trust me, give me wings
"I do trust you, Amanda. More than I've ever trusted anyone."
He picked up the Pearson file and slapped it with his open palm.
"It's this I don't trust." He waved one arm in a wide arc.
"You shouldn't be involved in this."
How many times over the years had he expressed the same vexation over
getting her involved with the Agency? She'd lost count long ago.
But she knew he wasn't ready to walk away yet. And she wasn't ready
to walk away either. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it,"
she offered with a crooked smile.
His eyes brightened as his lips formed into a faint pout. "I should
have known those words would come back to haunt me," he complained, and
she knew he remembered their discussion the previous Spring during her
brief stay at the Hotel Cumberland. They both had compelling reasons
for facing the risks inherent to their job.
"Yeah, you should have." Amanda's eyes sparkled teasingly for
a moment before her expression turned serious again. "Lee, this *is*
a dangerous job." She glanced down to the floor and back up again.
"But there *are* parts I like a lot . . ."
"So I guess we're stuck with it," he finished for her. "So," he
asked with a resigned sigh, "what are we gonna do now?"
"Now we're going find out who killed Dan Pearson."
"Yeah. We'd better hit the streets." He reached out and
took her hand, squeezing her fingers. "Partners?"
"Partners," she echoed softly as she returned the gentle pressure.
"Forever."
If you really love me
Give me wings
The End