Partners, a scarecrow and mrs. king fanfic

Partners?

by rankamateur

Amanda and Francine? No way. But what if it had been "Lee" who had been ill the last months of the series. Could the ladies have pulled it off?

Another one of those AU - can Francine and Amanda work together without killing each other - stories.

Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises Ltd.

Written July 2002

Thanks to rb and buffy for their help.

"Billy," Francine Desmond flopped gracelessly into a chair, very uncharacteristic for the fashion and image conscious agent, "just how much longer is it going to be before Lee comes back to work?"

"I don't know, Francine. Dr. McJohn still hasn't been able to identify the bacteria that's causing the infection. He knows it's artificial - man-made. And he thinks Lee must've been given the bug deliberately. But we don't know exactly when or how the infection was introduced. It could have been aerobically. And, we haven't a clue as to who did it."

"Oh boy," she rolled her eyes and then held up her hand, studying her perfectly manicured nails.

"McJohn is very hopeful that this latest approach - some kind of cocktail of antibiotics, will do the trick. But even if the infection cleared up tomorrow - today even, it would still be some time before Lee would be strong enough to come back to work and go back into the field."

"Look," she let her hand drop back into her lap, "I have been stuck with that...that housewife for over a month now. I mean working with Amanda King for a few days, a week maybe, is, well, it's OK, but this is ridiculous! She doesn't follow orders, she won't stay in the car, she..."

Billy held up his hand, "I heard all of this from Lee when they first started working together..."

"But," Francine tried to interrupt.

"And," Billy continued, "they wound up being one of the best teams The Agency has ever had. Now, if you'll just try and work together for a while longer... Hey, you two have done very well so far, you've solved four difficult cases, ones that other teams couldn't crack."

"Yeah, I know. She does get some helpful ideas, but Billy, she is still a housewife and I'm used to working with agents - real agents."

"Francine," Billy didn't even try to hide his aggravation, "Mrs. King is just as good or better at this job as any real agent we have. Besides working in the field, she's taking regular Agency courses and passing them with better grades than any other recruit we have. She'll be a real agent very soon. For now, I need the two of you, working together as a team, on this case." He pushed a folder across the desk. "Here's the file. It's pretty thin because we don't have much yet. All we know - or think we know, is that the Aardvark is back in this country. Take this up to the Q-Bureau and go over the material with Amanda and get to work on it. That's an order!"

"All right, all right," Francine raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and stood up. She picked up the folder, shook her head and then walked to the door. "We'll do the best we can with this Billy, and I'll try to think of Amanda as a real agent."

"Go," Billy scowled.

"Good morning, Francine," Amanda called out in as cheery a tone of voice as she could muster, under the circumstances. She was so worried about Lee. This illness was taking a terrible toll on him, emotionally as well as physically. He wasn't used to being sick and weak. He was used to being able to fight back, no matter who or what the enemy was. And, of course, Amanda's concern went deeper than that of an agent for their partner, something every one in Field Section could understand. Her concern was of a wife for her beloved husband, something nobody else at The Agency could know about. Their mystery marriage required that she walk a fine line. She could show a certain amount of concern for Lee's situation, but if she showed too much, as much as she really felt, well - that might raise questions she couldn't answer.

"Amanda, Billy wants us to work on this," Francine dropped the file on the desk.

Amanda picked up the folder and read through the meager contents. "Hmm, an INS border guard, who makes an effort to keep current on international criminals, while looking for a drug smuggler in some routine surveillance tapes, saw the Aardvark, crossing into the U.S. at Laredo. Wow, the Aardvark is on everybody's list of most-wanted hit men."

"Yeah. And if he is here, he's after somebody important. He doesn't fool around with petty stuff. Maybe he's after the President."

"Possibly," Amanda said absently. "So, why is one of the deadliest, most successful, most wanted hit men in the world known as the Aardvark of all things?"

"Well, the story is that when he was first breaking into the business, he wanted a name that everybody would remember and was near the top of any list that was alphabetical."

"Aha. And now he's stuck with it. Oh well. We know his services go to whomever will meet his price and he doesn't much care who the target is. Why don't we talk to a few of Lee's family members...see if they've heard anything."

"Sure. Who did you have in mind?"

"Auggie Swan for one and Rhonda too. She still works at that gas station where the KGB takes their cars. You never know what she's going to pick up."

"OK. Let's go," Francine said as she got up from the desk and picked up her purse and her jacket. "We have to start somewhere."

"Auggie, you remember Francine Desmond. She works with Lee too."

"Oh yeah, hi ya." He remembered Francine. And that black jump suit. He remembered her very well. Auggie extended his hand.

"Hello." Francine pretended not to notice.

"Umm, we need some help Auggie. Francine and I are working on..."

"How's Lee doin'? I heard he's real sick."

"Yes, he is sick but the doctors are very hopeful..."

Auggie cut her short again. "Tell him I said to get well soon."

"I will, Auggie, thanks. Now, we have some pretty solid intell that the Aardvark is back in this country and possibly he's in this area. Have you heard anything?"

"Yeah, well, ya know this guy is a really bad dude. I mean he's dangerous! It's dangerous just to know about him," Auggie finished in a conspiratorial tone.

"What do you know about him?" Amanda pressed.

"OK. For you Mrs. K. and for Lee. A business acquaintance of mine is sure he saw the Aardvark - maybe two days ago."

"Here? In DC?"

"No. In Maryland. In a little, out of the way motel near Baltimore. The Broadmoor, I think he said."

"Where is your friend," Francine chimed in. "Would he talk to us?"

"Are you kiddin'? He was afraid the Aardvark recognized him too. They met once, on a job in Colombia. Anyway, he's gone. Probably half way up K-2 by now!"

"Oh," Amanda chuckled. "The Aardvark can't be all that bad. Your friend's climbing only the second highest mountain in the world to get away from him."

"Funny, Mrs. K. Believe me, my associate was petrified. The 'vark is plenty bad! Now that I've talked to you, I'll probably have to get out of town myself. I could use a little traveling money."

"Right. Francine..."

Francine opened her purse and pulled out some bills. "Do you know why he's here?"

"To kill somebody." Auggie held out his hand.

Francine looked disgusted. "We figured that out for ourselves. Do you know who his target might be?'

"No." Taking the money from Francine, Auggie turned and walked to the corner, and in a moment, he disappeared from sight.

The next stop was the gas station where Rhonda worked.

Amanda pulled the wagon up to the pump and got out of her car. "Hi, Rhonda. How'r you doin'? Fill it up, please."

"Mrs. King," Rhonda smiled. "I'm doin' OK. How's Lee? Word in the family is that he's really, really sick with somethin'."

"He is pretty sick, but the doctors are working on his case - tryin' new antibiotics. It's just a matter of time till they find the right one and he'll be well again." Amanda smiled, trying to sound convincing for her own sake as well as Rhonda's. "Look, we, ahh, this is Miss Desmond..."

"Hi," Rhonda nodded at Francine, who returned the gesture.

Introductions over, Amanda continued. "We're trying to find out anything we can about the Aardvark. We're sure he's back in this area. Have you heard his name mentioned by any of your customers?"

Yeah. Just the other day two KGB types were talkin' about this Aardvark character. Apparently he's not one of theirs. They're sure he's in this country to hit somebody important but they didn't seem to know who or exactly when." Rhonda pulled the nozzle from the gas tank and replaced the cap. "They did seem to think it was goin' down fairly soon."

"OK. Is this enough?" Amanda asked, holding out a ten dollar bill.

"Hold on." Rhonda took the bill. "You've got change coming."

"Where are we going? This isn't the way back to The Agency."

"To Baltimore," Amanda responded, keeping her eyes on the road. "We need to check on that motel."

"We don't even know if Broadmoor is the right name," Francine pointed out, airily.

"Yes we do. While you were in the ladies room back there at the gas station, I called information and checked. I've got the address."

"It could be just a wild goose chase. Your friend Auggie doesn't sound too reliable to me," Francine sneered.

"It could be. Auggie's not always 100 with his tips. But for now, it's the only lead we've got."

"Swell." Francine closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "Maybe we can get some lunch in Baltimore."

"Sure."

Francine dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "I knew it was going to be a wasted trip," she said triumphantly. "Unless you consider this lunch worth the ride to Maryland."

"Francine, just because the desk clerk didn't recognize the picture we have of the Aardvark, doesn't mean he isn't or wasn't here. He may be wearing a disguise. And you know it's not a very good picture. It's a wonder that INS agent recognized him on the surveillance tape. That motel clerk probably sees so many faces in a week - in a day even - that they all start lookin' alike to him. I think we should put the motel under surveillance."

"Hah! You can suggest that to Billy if you want to but don't go volunteering ME for a stakeout like that!" Francine said petulantly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Francine." 'At least not for the rest of the day - but tomorrow...,' she thought, smiling to herself. "I think I'll wait till tomorrow before I give this to Mr. Melrose. There are a few things I want to check first."

Amanda opened the door to Lee's room and slipped in quietly, so as not to disturb him. Since Dr. McJohn had determined that there was no further threat of contagion, it had become a newly established daily ritual - checking on Lee during her lunch hour and/or after work. He was most often asleep during her visits, as he was now. She would pull up a chair and sit beside his bed, holding his hand or gently stroking his face. She was glad The Agency had a place like this for him. Since nobody hated hospitals more than Lee Stetson, staying in Parker General was out of the question. But, in his present condition, staying in his apartment, alone most of the time, was out of the question too. This room, located in The Agency's Medical Section was a compromise. It had a twin bed - not a hospital bed, a nightstand, a small table and a few chairs. It wasn't like home but it wasn't the sterile, antiseptic, medical atmosphere that Lee hated so much.

As he lay there sleeping, with a slightly pained expression on his face, Amanda began to cry softly. Was he ever going to be well? Be his old self again? Seeing him like this day in and day out was so hard. But she could no more stay away than she could stop breathing.

Realizing she had to get home soon, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. 'Please, get well soon, sweetheart. I love you. I need you...' She straightened up, turned and left the room.

A computer check of current events didn't show anything more than what Amanda already knew from reading the Chronicle.

"Francine, have you seen this morning's paper?" Amanda inquired as her co-worker entered the Q-Bureau.

"Yes. What about it? Did I miss something," she responded in a tone which suggested the impossibility of the very idea.

"Did you see the article on Margaret Thatcher's visit? She'll be in DC for three days, arriving the day after tomorrow. Don't I recall seeing an Inter-Agency alert on some IRA terrorist activity. Didn't one of their spokes persons mention the Prime Minister as a legitimate target?"

"You're right. I wonder if the IRA has the money to hire an outside contractor like Aardvark. He's pretty expensive, from what we hear."

"I think they have supporters and sympathizers all over the world, certainly in this country. People who have money and who have the ability to raise money. A lot of it. I...I bet the IRA can afford Mr. Aardvark."

"You could be right," Francine admitted grudgingly. "Let's go talk to Billy about this."

-- --

Billy Melrose looked up from the newspaper on his desk. "I saw this and the same thought crossed my mind. However, protecting the PM is a Secret Service job. We haven't been asked to help."

"Well Sir, should we at least send them a memo on this? Shouldn't we tell them about the motel in Baltimore?"

"Yes. We can - we should do that. Why don't you prepare one, Amanda, and bring to me as soon as you have it. I'll see that it gets to the agent in charge of Mrs. Thatcher's visit."

"Yes Sir," Amanda stood up. "I'll get right on it. But, Sir, do you think Francine and I should keep working on this?. Maybe we can come up with something else we could pass along."

"Ahh, all right. Keep on it. Maybe you'll find something our friends over at Treasury may have missed."

"You know, it might not be a bad idea to stake out the motel, just in case the Aardvark comes back, if he ever left. He might feel it's a safe place," Amanda suggested.

"Billy," Francine looked just a bit annoyed. "Don't you think we should go on to something else? Let the Secret Service guys do their thing?"

"No. We've developed the intell on the Aardvark. I think it's our job to keep after this. Go."

"Yes Sir."

"Right, Billy." Francine got up and strode to the door, her anger apparent. 'Why does he humor that woman constantly,' she thought as she shot a hostile look in Amanda's direction. 'Why can't she just go home and...and bake some brownies. Oooh, brownies, that sounds good.'

"Sir," Amanda stood in front of Billy's desk. "Did the Secret Service respond to our memo?"

"Yes," Billy's expression briefly registered his disapproval. "Essentially they said thank you very much - now butt out!"

"Oh.," she said in a disappointed tone of voice. "Shall we - butt out - I mean?"

"NO. You and Desmond keep on this. Did your stake-out turn up anything yet?"

"No. Nothing suspicious at that motel."

"Too bad. If you get any new leads, let me know."

"Right." Amanda turned and left the office. 'Francine'll love this,' she thought, a slight smile forming. 'Nothing like sitting in my car for hours, watching the tenants of a seedy motel.'

"Well" Francine said testily, "here we are again. Day three. Watching the lower class at play."

"Would you like some more ice tea?" Amanda asked, as she reached for the thermos bottle, which had rolled under the seat.

"No, not now. Another cup and I'll float right... Well, I'll be darned." Francine raised the binoculars to her eyes.

"What? Who do you see?"

It's...it is! Marty Cochrane."

"Who's Marty Cochrane?"

"He's a major gun-for-hire. Well, he's not in the same class as the Aardvark - he's not international, but he is pretty well known in this country. I don't recognize the guy with him. Maybe local muscle."

"They're going upstairs. That's uumm," Amanda raised the camera and adjusted the telephoto lens, "room 212."

As the women watched the door opened, revealing the occupant, who motioned for his guests to enter the room. As Francine watched, Amanda managed to snap several pictures.

"What do you think?" Francine lowered the binoculars.

"I think it's him," Amanda replied. "And I think I got some pretty good shots of him. Do you want to call Billy for back up? Can we arrest him?"

"For what? Staying at a cheap motel?"

"He's a killer!" Amanda tried to overlook Francine's snide remark.

"We have no warrants for the guy. He's not wanted for...jay walking let alone for killing anybody. No, Amanda, all we can do is watch him. I am going to call Billy and bring him up to speed."

"Well, Mr. Melrose can alert the Secret Service. Maybe they'll come out here and take over the surveillance."

"Maybe, but don't forget, at this point we have no proof that the Prime Minister is the target. They may not be too interested in the hunches of an Arlington housewife."

Amanda found herself unconsciously clenching her teeth. "Francine, do me a favor, when you talk to Mr. Melrose, ask him to get us Mrs. Thatcher's exact itinerary. The paper's kind of vague about just what events she'll be attending and when, which is what we need to know."

"I'll ask,'' Francine said as she got out of the car and walked toward the office of the motel. "I remember seeing a pay phone inside. Back in a few minutes."

Meanwhile, the men in room 212 were continuing their conversation. When he had opened the door, the Aardvark had greeted Marty and inquired about the man with him...

"This is Otis, our wheel-man, Mr. ahhh..."

"Call me Rich," the Aardvark smiled, "because that's what I am and that's what you two will be tomorrow - when we finish this job."

Marty and Otis high-fived each other and then turned their attention to their new employer - the one who was going to make them rich.

The relief team arrived. Francine briefed them as to the day's events and then returned to Amanda's car. "Let's get out of here!"

"Yep. I can hardly wait to get home and soak in a nice hot tub. After I drop you off at The Agency." 'And check on Lee.'

The next morning they were back at the motel, parked in a place from which they could see room 212. They had decided to use Francine's car, just in case people were beginning to wonder about the station wagon.

"So, you've been studying the PM's schedule all the way over here. Any conclusions? Guesses?"

"Not really. Although, I think it's more likely he'll try something when she goes to this art gallery. She'll be a lot more vulnerable there than she will be tonight at a state dinner in the White House."

"True. What time is she scheduled for the gallery?"

"Umm," Amanda checked her watch, "in about three hours."

Time dragged by, but finally - "Look Francine. Here they come. Marty and the other guy..."

"Otis Fleming. We ID'd him from those pictures you took."

"Right. Marty and Otis are with the Aardvark. They must've stayed there with him last night."

"Yeah, and I bet those suitcases aren't their luggage. Buckle up, Amanda. Here we go."

Nobody ever had to tell Amanda to buckle up.

Francine followed the three men, at a discreet distance, to a warehouse. They drove in and closed the door behind them.

Francine parked down the block and the two made their way cautiously to a side door. Francine picked the lock and opened the door slowly. Everything seemed quiet and there was no sign of the men.

"Come on," Francine whispered. "Let's look down this way." She pulled a pistol from her purse and began edging her way down the hall.

They came to a spot from which they could see, without being observed, a truck - a panel truck with a logo and the name Polar Ice Air Conditioning - Sales and Service. There was a phone number and a DC business license number. It was very realistic looking. The three men came into view, dressed in coveralls with the same company name sewn on the back. They got into the truck and started towards the exit.

"Let's go," Amanda said as she turned and started running for the door that they had just entered.

Arriving at the car, Francine started it up, threw it in gear and took off around the corner, where she was reasonably sure, the truck would be.

"There they are, headed that way. Can you turn this thing around?"

"Of course! Relax. I won't lose them." Francine was beginning to understand why Lee had so much confidence in the abilities of this housewife who was his partner.

-- --

From the warehouse, the hit team drove to Georgetown, and parked in the alley behind a building across from a small but prestigious, British owned art museum. The museum which the PM was scheduled to tour, shortly.

While Otis stayed in the truck, the two service men started for the building, a small printing facility, which was closed.

"Hey, where do you two think you're going?" the Secret Service agent called out.

"We're scheduled to do some maintenance work on the unit in here. They like us to do the work when they're closed, so we don't get in the way. Here's the work order. What's the problem?" The Aardvark held out a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached.

Agent Sanders flashed his ID and shrugged his shoulders. "We've got some VIP visitors coming along shortly." He looked at the work sheet and then pushed the clipboard away. "Well, it looks all right. You guys can go ahead and do your job."

"Thanks," Marty grinned. This was almost too easy!

Prep work paid off. Marty had obtained a wax impression of the lock on the front door, from which he had made a key, and the Aardvark had obtained the alarm codes. Within minutes, the two were inside the building, the alarm was disabled. And they were on their way up to the roof. All they had to do now was assemble the rifles which were concealed in their tool boxes and wait for the target to show up.

-- --

"Hey, excuse me. Did you see two men dressed like workmen go into this building?"

Sanders turned around. His frown turned to a smile as he saw two attractive women running towards him. One was a blonde, wearing a lovely powder blue dress with matching heels. The other, a slender brunette, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. 'Not bad!'

"How can I help you ladies?"

"You're Secret Service, right?" Francine prompted, as she pulled out her ID. "The curly wire sticking out of your ear is a dead give-away," she added.

Agent Sanders looked first at Francine's and then Amanda's ID's. "So, you're Agency. What's up?"

"Two men, dressed as Polar Ice repairmen - did you see them?" Francine asked again, this time with more urgency in her voice.

"Yeah, I let 'em go in there," he pointed to the building behind him. "What is the problem."

"One of them is the Aardvark and we're pretty sure he's not here to fix the air conditioning!" Francine said sarcastically as she stood with one hand on her hip, gesturing at agent Sanders with the other hand. "And the Prime Minister of England will be here in - what - five minutes?"

Cursing under his breath, Sanders spoke into the lapel mic he wore. "This is Sanders. I'm in front of the Elite Printing building with two Agency operatives. We may have a problem. Possible shooters on the roof."

While he talked, Francine was busy picking the lock of the print shop. In a moment she and Amanda rushed into the building followed by Agent Sanders.

"There - look - a stairway," Amanda pointed towards the back of the room.

Quickly climbing to the second floor, the three agents found access to the roof. Cautiously opening the door, they stepped out onto the hot asphalt surface. Amanda put her hand on Francine's arm and pointed to the front of the building, overlooking the street. The Aardvark was crouched at one end and Marty was kneeling at the other end. They would have the PM in their crossfire.

Just then Sanders heard though his earphone that the Prime Minister's limo had pulled up in front of the art gallery, directly across the street. "Don't let her get out of the car," he shouted.

The two gunmen fired at the street below, just as three voices yelled in union FREEZE. Marty and the Aardvark turned and fired again as the federal agents hit the deck. It was hard to tell how many shots were exchanged in those brief seconds. The two hit men ran for the back side of the roof, where the fire escape was located and where, in the alley below, Otis waited in their truck.

Just as Amanda and Francine were getting to their feet, they heard a groan. They looked down at agent Sanders who was sitting with his back to the large air conditioning unit, holding his knee, while blood seeped between his fingers.

"Oh my gosh!" Amanda exclaimed.

"It's OK. Go - go after them."

The two women ran for the door, pushing by the two Secret Service agents who had just reached the roof, in response to Sanders call for help. Running down the stairs and out of the building, they arrived at Francine's car and took off.

"Do you see the truck," Francine craned her neck, looking down the alleys and side streets they passed.

"No," Amanda responded, "but let's head back to the warehouse. I don't think they know that we know where it is."

"OK. I'll go with your hunches from now on."

"Thanks Francine," Amanda smiled. "That means a lot to me."

-- --

"Look, there's the truck, just pulling in. Call for back-up."

"Right." Amanda picked up the car phone and dialed Billy's private number.

-- --

Francine parked the car in the pretty much the same spot as she had earlier. She and Amanda got out of the vehicle and carefully made their way to the same door that Francine had unlocked previously. They entered and began working their way towards the area where the truck had been parked before. Reaching the same vantage point, they could see Marty and Otis standing in a room with large, plate glass windows. The men were deep in conversation and didn't notice the two agents moving silently towards them.

Amanda tried the handle of the door - it wasn't locked. She looked at Francine who nodded her head in assent. Soundlessly, Amanda counted One-Two-Three and then she pushed open the door and entered the room, followed immediately by Francine.

"Hands up. Don't move and don't talk," she said in a most menacing tone.

Francine quickly disarmed the men - "OK, give me your hand," she ordered as she pulled Marty's arm down behind him - and cuffed them both.

"Where's the Aardvark," Amanda demanded, pointing her revolver at Marty's head.

"I don't know lady. He went that way," Marty nodded his head in the general direction of the hallway running off to the left of the office. "He's got a car parked out back and I think he's got some regular clothes stashed back there somewhere. I mean, he's not walkin' outta here dressed like a repairman."

"No noise, out of either one of you - or we'll be back." It was Francine's turn to sound menacing.

They left the office, Amanda closing the door after them, and started down the hallway.

"Do you think we should wait for back-up?" Francine wondered aloud.

"If we don't go after him, he'll be gone again and free to kill somebody else," Amanda pointed out.

"OK. Let's take it very slowly though," Francine cautioned.

"Right. Let's go." Amanda started off with Francine right behind her.

Working their way along the rows of boxes and shelves which lined both sides of the hall, they came to a rather open area, from which they could see a door, which was open.

"Oh no," Amanda pointed to the open door. It looks like he's probably gone. Darn it!" Then, glancing back towards a pile of large boxes, she spotted something that made her heart stop for a moment...

Francine looked up in total disbelief. Amanda was pointing a revolver directly at her. "Amanda, what are you doing? Why are you..." She clearly heard the click as Amanda cocked the gun. "Look, Amanda, can we talk about this? Maybe I've been a little harsh... I...I take back every mean thing I may have said to you. I..."

"Francine, don't move. Don't move any part of your anatomy, including your lips." Amanda's voice was soft, but there was no doubt that she meant business.

She didn't move, except for closing her eyes. She heard the loud bang of the gun going off. But she didn't feel anything - no pain. She opened her eyes and looked down at herself. No blood. 'She missed,' Francine thought. 'Wouldn't you know it? From that distance - like three feet away - she missed! You IDIOT', a little voice in her mind exclaimed, 'did you want her not to miss?'

"OK Francine. I got him, you can move now." Amanda tucked the pistol in the waistband of her jeans and then pulled a pair of handcuffs from her purse. "You - turn around," she ordered as she stepped past Francine and moved towards a man who was grasping his shoulder and moaning in pain. Amanda cuffed his hands behind his back. "Sorry," she said, "but I'm not takin' any chances. I'll take off the cuffs when our back-up gets here." As she noticed Francine's confused expression, Amanda asked, "Didn't you know this guy was behind you?"

"No, I never saw him," Francine replied, licking her lips nervously.

"He was aiming at you, so I figured I'd better take him out. Umm, I didn't mean to scare you, but I needed you to hold real still, so I could shoot over your shoulder."

The last thing Francine saw was the floor, rapidly coming up to meet her face.

"King, Desmond," agent Duffy called from the poorly lit hallway.

"Over here, Frank," Amanda answered.

Agents Duffy and Wright, followed by two other teams, came running up, guns drawn.

"Here's one," Amanda gestured towards the Aardvark, who was still moaning over his shoulder injury. "Did you find the other two in the office?"

"Yeah," Frank answered, holstering his pistol, "we got 'em. Hey," he said looking down at Francine's inert form. "What's with Desmond. Is she hurt? Was she shot?"

"Ahh, no, not shot. I think she fainted. I hope she didn't hurt herself when she went down. You'd better get her to the Agency clinic and have her checked out - just in case."

"Right." Frank knelt down at her side. "Francine, Francine," he called, gently rubbing her cheek, "can you hear me? Beamon is on his way to take care of you."

Francine's eyes fluttered open. She raised a hand to her forehead. "Ouch! Tell Beamon to never mind. I'll be fine."

Frank just grinned.

"Any word on the Prime Minister?" Amanda inquired, as she watched Dunlevy and Neiman take the Aardvark away.

"Oh, she's fine," Frank replied, turning his attention back to Amanda. "Thanks to you and Desmond, the Aardvark and his back up man both missed their shots. Early word is that there might be a Presidential citation in this for you two. And hey, maybe Thatcher'll nominate you for The Queen's List. You could get knighted. I can just see you now, waiting outside the throne room of St. James Palace, pacing up and down..."

"Frank."

"Yes?"

"Knock it off."

TAG

Amanda was sitting at her desk, putting the final touches on the Aardvark report. Hearing the door open, she looked up and smiled as she jumped to her feet. It was Lee. Standing in the doorway with that same old, devastating smile she knew so well and loved so much.

"Hi, gorgeous. Need a little help?"

"Lee! Sweetheart. Oh my gosh, are you sure you're supposed to be up here? I mean, climbing all those stairs?" Amanda talked as quickly as she moved to close the distance between them.

"Yup. Doc McJohn said the medicine worked. The infection's gone and I can go home and I can get back to work, as long as I take it slow and easy for a while. Of course I'll definitely need help around my apartment, a lot of help," he winked.

He was pale and a little shaky, but he was back in the office where they had shared so much and, more importantly, back in her arms, where he belonged.

end

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