Author's Note: Here Be Dragons.

This story contains elements some of you may be uncomfortable with. I ask only that you read it with an open mind and heart. This is not intended to be shocking or hurtful, just a view of events seen from a slightly different angle that may change your perception of how certain things happened.

All characters remain the property of their original creators. No copyright infringement is intended

Lee looked around the smoky basement bar trying to spot his target. The place was a seething mass of dancers and the blaring music was giving him the slightest headache. He'd barely had time to recover from the jet lag of his trans-Atlantic flight into London before he'd been briefed and tossed into this Peacock Dance.

It had been a while since he'd been dragged into an MI5 operation but Emily Farnsworth had requested him personally and she was one of the few people on the world he'd do anything for, even giving up his already delayed trip to the Riviera.

He shook his head and took another swig of his Scotch as he laughed a little remembering the reason for the first delay. He'd been horrified when Billy had demanded he cancel it, trading the bright lights of La Croisette for the smoky lantern light of Station One, but – and he would never admit this to Billy or Francine – it had actually been fun. Obviously it hadn't been as fun as the Riviera trip with Marjorie would have been, but watching Amanda bungle her way through the classes had had its own charm. She'd been so unlike her usual self – all her usual self-confidence had been absent for some reason and she'd been so klutzy. He stopped to think about that for a minute – why had she been so off? She'd still managed to stay focused enough to see through the Soviet agents and even ended up capturing one singlehandedly, albeit accidentally, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized something must have been wrong. He started trying to think when she'd started to act oddly. She'd been fine, enthusiastic even he'd brought her the offer of training and she'd still been pretty excited the first day but then… what had happened then? His brows snapped together at the idea that something or someone had gotten to his partner without him noticing. Somewhere in the last few months he'd started to look past his initial reservations and seen what a gift she'd been in his life: caring, insightful, brave, altogether adorable, in fact, although he could never tell her that. He was damned if he was ever going to get that close to anyone again.

No, he thought, just co-workers, just barely friends enough to work together. Never again was anyone getting that close to him – it wasn't worth it when they inevitably left. Or were taken, he couldn't help adding. He shook himself again, freeing himself from the old memories and forced himself to think over the briefing he'd received today at MI5. Like a repeat of the Cambridge Five scandal of the 1960s, it had become apparent that the Soviets were using the left wing hatred of the Thatcher government's policies to foment dissatisfaction in the U.K. MI5 had slowly been building cases against various union leaders and academics throughout the country who they suspected of working with the KGB. The Soviet infiltration had also reached into the public service and that was where Lee came in. They'd identified a mole, hidden almost in plain sight in their own offices and needed an unknown to come in and help them bait the trap.

He hadn't been able to believe it when Emily had outlined the Peacock Dance to him that morning with that mischievous look on her face

"It's pretty straightforward, Lee. We've done a complete computer analysis and you're the perfect conglomeration of every man Fairfield has ever dated. If the computer could have created you from scratch, it couldn't be better: tall, sandy haired, athletic, American; honestly you're the whole package."

He'd laughed at her assessment and told her what Amanda had said so long ago about James Delano, "Well, why don't you let the computer put the dress on and go out with him tonight, too?"

She'd laughed roundly and answered, "Well, fortunately we don't need you to wear a dress for this dance, Scarecrow, because I'm sure we don't have any heels in your size."

He'd still been laughing at that mental image when she'd gotten a serious look on her face and put the file on the desk in front of her.

"There's just one thing, Lee. Let me say it again – you are the best man for this job and we're desperate for your help at baiting Fairfield into the open – but there's something you should see first before you agree. It may have an impact on whether you feel you're going to be able to perform this one." She pulled a photograph from the file and slid it across the table towards him. "This is Kim Fairfield."

He looked down at the photo and felt his heart seize up for an instant then begin to pound. He knew the shock must have drained the colour from his face because when he looked up at Emily, her expression had changed to one of concern.

"That's not possible!"

"No it's not. The similarities are striking, I'll admit, but that is Kim Fairfield."

He dropped his eyes to stare at the photo again, seeing his lost love in every curve of the face, the soft curl of hair over the forehead, damn it, he'd swear even the light freckles were the same. "Similarities?" he'd growled. "They could be twins and you know it." He put his head in his hands. "I don't know, Emily, I don't know if I can do it. I'm not sure I could keep it straight where one stops and the other begins."

"I was afraid you'd say that, Lee, and I understand. I truly do, but I can't overemphasize how much we need you on this one. Fairfield's position inside MI5 means we can't use any of our own agents – they'd be recognized in a heartbeat – and we need to close this hole in security completely before the meetings in Berlin next week. There is a deadline here, Lee, and if you think you can hold it together for one week, that should be enough."

"One week?" he'd repeated hollowly.

"One week. If we can't flush the ring out quietly before Berlin, we're going to have to go in guns blazing and we'd like to avoid that is possible. Do you think you can do it?"

He'd closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them to stare at the photo again. He could feel his throat tightening just looking at it, even knowing it wasn't… that it couldn't be… He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll try."

Emily looked simultaneously relieved and more worried. "I wish we could have arranged for Amanda to help you with this one. She has such a good head on her shoulders and she could help keep you on an even keel."

"Not with this!" he'd snapped flicking the photo back towards his mentor. "She doesn't know anything about… that part of my life."

Emily raised her brows. "She seemed pretty au courant with your life and your lifestyle when I was in Washington last summer," she said.

"Amanda understands all about my dating life – but I haven't told her about anything in my past, about people who were important to me. I don't want her that close to me. I don't want anyone that close to me ever again." His voice had gotten angrier as he'd spoken, although he'd tried to control it, knowing it would upset Emily to see him so emotional. "Let's just get this show on the road, Emily. Give me the rest of the file and tell me everything I need to know about Kim Fairfield."

She'd stared at him doubtfully for a few moments, while he'd stared back defiantly and then, finally, she had pushed the file folder towards him and begun the briefing.

Someone approaching the bar jostled him and he barely held onto the tumbler in his hand. He'd been so deep in thought that he'd momentarily forgotten he was supposed to be watching for his mark and so straightened up too quickly, jostling them back in turn just as the barman had passed them their drink.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he said. "Let me get you a replacement." He turned to face the person he'd bumped and the words died on his lips. He knew, knew this was Kim Fairfield but in the flesh, even more than in the photo, the similarity was so striking that he couldn't take it in. The smile, the sparkle in the eye, the dimple in the cheek – it just didn't seem possible that two people could look so alike. Something must have shown in his expression because the smile on Fairfield's face had started to dim a little, replaced with a look of concern.

"Are you all right, Yank? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Even the English accent and the knowledge that it couldn't be anyone but Fairfield couldn't stop Lee from breathing out the question. "Andy?"

Fairfield stared at him for a long moment then down at the hand that Lee had unconsciously held out, before rocking back on his heels to sit on the stool next to him. "No, but from the look on your face I wish I were. Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me all about him."

Lee managed to pull himself together enough to protest. "No, I spilled your drink – let me buy yours." He even managed to smile as Fairfield looked at him quizzically, then shrugged.

"You Yanks always have plenty of cash to splash around, why not?" He settled more comfortably onto the bar stool, turned just enough that his knee was resting lightly against Lee's. He waited until the barman had brought him another glass then leaned on his elbow on the bar and looked Lee fully in the face. "So tell me about Andy."

Lee felt his throat tighten again as it had earlier that day. Without thinking, he reached up to loosen his tie, suddenly feeling too constricted. "Not a lot to tell, really," he managed to blurt out.

"You loved him." It wasn't a question. Lee nodded dumbly.

"AIDS?" Now that was the obvious question.

"No," Lee shook his head, trying to get his voice under control. "Accident." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to black out that image he knew would never leave him of Andy's body flying back from the force of the bullet. "It was my fault."

"Ah, now that's too bad. We lose enough these days without Fate taking them from us in other ways."

"You look so much like him, it was just a shock," said Lee. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out at all."

"They say we all have a doppelganger somewhere. I'm sorry it looks like I'll never have the chance to meet mine." Fairfield leaned forward and put his hand on Lee's knee. "Do you want to go find a quiet booth and you can tell me about him? You look like a man with the cares of the world on his shoulders right now."

Lee nodded and slipped off the bar stool, and followed him through the heaving mass of men dancing and grinding against each on the dance floor. It had been a while – well since Andy's death he realized – since he'd gone to a gay bar, preferring instead to settle for the occasional clandestine blowjob in the dark parks around the Mall. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, the acrid smell of sweat and the underlying aura of testosterone in the air, the movement of furtive couplings in the shadows, the appreciative looks as he passed – it was all coming back in a rush and he was both panicky and aroused.

Fairfield had managed to locate the last empty booth in a dark corner and slid into one of the benches. With the barest hesitation, Lee followed him, sliding onto the same bench, moving close enough not to appear overly confident, but close enough that any movement from either of the would cause them to brush against the other. It afforded him some small comfort, that light touch, and he could almost forget why he was here.

He felt Fairfield turn slightly sideways to study his profile and then an arm slid along the back of the bench so that it was resting lightly against his shoulders and the other hand came to rest on his thigh.

"So what's your name anyway? I can't just keep calling you Yank all night."

"Lee. And you?"

"Kim." He saw Lee's raised brow and started to laugh softly. "Oh, I know you Americans think it's a girl's name, but it has a long revered history as a man's name over here. Rudyard Kipling and all that."

"If you say so," said Lee agreeably.

"And was Andy the love of your life?" Fairfield was being brutally direct, but in some way it was a welcome relief, like ripping off a Band-Aid. It had been so long since he'd been able to talk to anyone about him.

"He was my partner."

"Ah," answered Fairfield knowingly. "Work or personal?"

"Both," answered Lee in a tight voice. "But not for long enough."

"How long was not long enough?"

"Seven years." He turned his head to study Fairfield again. "It's eerie. I know you're not him but…"

"But just for tonight, I could be," answered Fairfield leaning in to gently kiss him. "Let me be your Andy just for tonight, Gorgeous."

The soft touch of lips on his had been enough. All thoughts of the mission fled as Lee pressed him back into the corner of the booth, running his fingers through his soft hair, probing his mouth with his tongue, giving in to the relief of feeling a man's touch on his body after so many months of denial. They were both moaning now, hands caressing each other and before he knew it, Lee had managed to get both of his hands inside Fairfield's shirt somehow while Fairfield was holding his head in both hands, kissing him with breathy sighs. When Fairfield started to laugh quietly, Lee had pushed himself off him frantically, suddenly overcome with shame at how easily he'd given into that physical attraction.

"Steady on, old boy," said Fairfield, leaning forward to grab his tie and pull him back in gently. "I don't think we should stop but I do think maybe we should slow down just a trifle, don't you?" He caressed Lee's cheek gently, eyes twinkling. "Maybe you'd like to dance?" he gestured past Lee to the dance floor and Lee realized with relief that the music had gone much quieter and a slow song was playing for a floor packed with swaying couples.

"Yes," he gasped out, glad of the chance to try and get his emotions under control. He'd backed his way out of the booth and stood there, chest heaving while Fairfield straightened his clothing before standing up and taking Lee's hand to lead him to the dance floor. Fairfield wasn't exactly like Andy he realized. Andy had been slightly too tall for his head to rest comfortably in the small of his neck like Kim's did and Kim had a pleasant softness to his body, not feminine exactly but not the firm muscles and angularity that Andy had from his regular visits to the gym. The scent was different too, of course, everyone had their own personal smell and while pleasant, it wasn't Andy's. That was the moment, arms wrapped around a man who was so close to being Andy but wasn't, that Lee finally gave into the last of the grief he'd held inside for the past two years. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes and knew there was no way to stop them. Kim must have felt the slight hiccup in his breath because he leaned back in his embrace and looked up at him, lifting one hand to gently wipe the tears away.

"Let's get you out of here, Beautiful. Your place or mine?"

"Yours," choked out Lee. "I can't be seen…"

"You can't be seen bringing men back to your hotel room?" asked Kim understandingly. "You Americans are so puritanical about these things." He lifted his hand to the back of Lee's head and brought it down to his own for a long tender kiss. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Lee took the proffered hand and followed him out of the bar like a puppy.

The cab ride to Kim's apartment had been a circus of furtive groping and kisses when they thought the driver wasn't watching. They had tumbled out of the black cab, Lee insisting on paying the fare while Kim's hands promised repayment in better more appealing ways out of sight of the driver's line of vision. To Lee's relief, the apartment was the first floor of an old converted Regency terrace because he didn't think he could have managed stairs by the point. Kim had laughed when he'd dropped the keys, so distracted by Lee's standing so close behind him, hands wandering with a mind of their own.

"Lee, you big Yankee faggot, can you not leave me alone long enough to get the bloody key in the door?"

"No," answered Lee honestly, taking advantage of Kim having to bend to pick the off the floor to grind against him

"Well lucky for you, I've managed it despite you," laughed Kim, pushing open the door and turning to pull Lee into the room by his tie. "Now, would you like a cup of tea or anything?" He was looking up at him with laughing eyes and for an instant, Lee suddenly saw Amanda, laughing at him in just the same way, always offering coffee or sandwiches or brownies. He pushed that thought away as forcefully as he could. Not tonight, he thought, tonight is just for me. Real life and the mission can wait until tomorrow.

"No" he answered in a rough voice. "No tea, no coffee, no anything." In the light of the apartment, he was struck once again at how much Kim looked like Andy. The differences were more obvious to him now and he wouldn't mistake one for the other, but still, his heart seized with grief at the memory of his partner and recognizing it, Kim had taken by the hand.

"Right then," he said leading him towards the bedroom. "Come along and let me love you."

Lee woke in the dim light of dawn, wrapped in Kim's arms. I have to stop thinking of him as Kim, was his first thought, I need to think of him as Fairfield, the mark, the job – nothing more. And then Kim had woken as well and he'd turned to face him and the loving had begun again.

"So what are you doing over here in Blighty anyway?" asked Kim over breakfast.

"Blighty? You guys don't seriously call it that, do you?" smiled Lee, unable to resist meeting the mischievous grin across the table.

"No, we don't, but you Yanks seems to love it when we do," replied Kim playfully. "But what brings you here, other than the charming gentlemen's clubs of Soho?"

"I'm in Import/Export, Anacord Electronics" answered Lee with the story they'd agreed on back at MI5, reusing his cover from a few weeks before.

Kim had begun to laugh, as Lee had expected "So you're a spy then?"

Lee managed to look surprised. "What? No, I'm really in electronics – why would you think I'm a spy?"

"Import/export is like code, old chap – like being a cultural attaché – no one is really such a thing, it's always a cover."

"Well, mine isn't. I mean, I'm not. I'm here on business to meet up with some contacts to get our products into more European markets."

"Eastern European markets?" asked Kim knowledgeably.

"Among others," said Lee pretending to be uncomfortable. "Why are you so interested anyway?"

"Oh I'm not," grinned Kim. "I'm just enjoying watching you squirm a little. Do your bosses know about this?" he waved back and forth between the two of them.

"About you and me? I doubt it – I only met you twelve hours ago," said Lee being purposely dense.

"No, old chap, I mean do they know you're, you know…"

"Gay? Oh God no – they can never know that. It would be the end of my career."

"Well, your secret is safe with me," said Kim thoughtfully.

Lee stared back at him wide-eyed, knowing that inch by inch, Kim was swallowing the bait they were laying for him. He grinned suddenly at the memory of what else Kim had swallowed inch by inch the night before.

Kim met his gaze and laughed out loud. "But there's another secret you're pretty lousy at keeping from me, Lee Stetson." He got up and straddled Lee's lap, sliding one hand inside the robe he'd loaned him to gently flick his nipple while his tongue ran gently along the outside of his ear. "You are so beautiful."

Lee closed his eyes and let his lips begin wandering along Kim's collarbone as his hands caressed the thick length that was pressed against his stomach . "You've been so kind. You'll never know how badly I needed this."

"Like I said last night, we've all lost too many people these past few years. Sometimes you just need to dull the pain. Now how about you and that gorgeous dimpled ass follow me back to bed and we can continue this conversation more comfortably? Because I really think there's at least nine inches of you that is in desperate need of some attention."

Lee needed no further persuasion to follow him.

"So you think you've drawn him out enough?" asked Emily, a hopeful note in her voice.

"I think so. You heard him last night, offering to grease the wheels on getting contacts with the East Germans." Lee had planted half a dozen bugs in Kim's apartment after that first night and from that moment on, MI5 had been privy to all their most intimate conversations, something he'd been all too aware of, even when Kim wasn't. He knew he'd let himself get too involved with the mark, but it wasn't like Eva this time. It wasn't love, it was catharsis; he'd used Kim for his own needs, far more than he'd played him for the mission and although he'd cleared one emotional log jam, he suspected he'd created a new one.

Emily gazed at him carefully across the table. He wouldn't meet her eyes, preferring to stare out the window over the rooftops of Gower Street. She knew what lengths he'd gone to on their behalf that week; she'd made sure she'd gotten transcripts of every recording, wanting to know if or when it had gone too far for him to pull back. Looking at him now, she wasn't sure she'd been diligent enough – he looked…hard, she decided.

"Will you need me to help bring him in? Play the worried lover? Play the bad cop?" he was asking now, still not looking her direction.

"No, I think you've done enough, Lee dear. We'll simply tell him you've been sent home in disgrace by the British government, making it clear you were an innocent victim of our plots and thus preserve your cover in case it could be useful again later."

He did look at her then, a sardonic glint in his eye. "I bet. Can't afford to lose another agent who can swing either way for you on demand."

"That's not what I meant, Lee," she said sadly and his face softened.

"I know you didn't Emily and I'm sorry. This whole thing has been a little close to the bone for me, you know? I thought I'd nailed the cover closed on that box and this week just blew it wide open." He sighed and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "I just want to go home."

She leaned over and took his hand. "Then we'll get you on your way. But will you promise me one thing?"

He looked up at her and nodded dumbly.

"Will you go home to Amanda? Will you let her help you?" He looked at her angrily and she could see him getting ready to fight her on it. "No, I don't mean you have to tell her anything about what went on here – I mean, it's above her classification level for one thing – but let her in, let her be your friend at the very least. She's a good person and a good friend and you need that – you know you need that."

He opened his mouth, ready to dispute it again, but at the look in her eye, he closed it again and slumped back in his chair. Actually Amanda was exactly what he needed and he knew it. Pure unselfish love – not romantic love but just someone who loved him for him. Emily was right; he needed that in this business. "Yes, fine. I will let Amanda help me. Happy now?"

"Yes, Dear," she said smiling. "Let's get you home."

He hadn't known what to think when he'd walked into the Agency that morning and found it empty. He'd only been gone a week – it hadn't even been a zero contact mission and somehow the entire Agency had vanished, apparently during the short period it had taken him to travel back.

He'd arrived back the night before and despite the change in time zones waking him up early, he had hung around the apartment doing laundry, throwing old food out of the fridge – anything that would keep him from having to go into the Agency and face Billy's knowing looks. He wasn't sure how much Billy had been briefed on what MI5 had asked of him, but he knew he'd know the minute Billy looked him in the eye and right now, he just couldn't face that thought. He knew that with even only the barest outline of what had gone, Billy would see something in his expression that would send him off to Dr. Pfaff without hesitation and he knew, he knew that couldn't end well for him right now. He needed to get back to work, he needed to be distracted, and he needed to be in full agent mode with no emotions and no ties to anything. When he'd finally been ready to face the people who knew him best these days, he'd gone to work – and found it gone.

Panic had set in first. He thought he'd gotten used to people vanishing out of his life, but he'd always had an explanation for those disappearances at least. This was his whole life, the entire reason for his existence gone with almost no trace. He'd leaned against the wall of the lobby, head tilted back and hands flush against the wall as if being anchored could stop the feeling of nausea that had overwhelmed him. Suddenly he wished he'd stayed in London, stayed to help Emily wrap up the case even if it had meant staying to watch Kim get arrested but he'd wanted to go home and she'd let him with only that one worried smile. She'd had no idea what he was going home to; she thought he was going home to - .

And then it hit him: Amanda. Amanda wouldn't have vanished along with the Agency. Amanda had ties, Amanda had family, Amanda would be home and maybe, just maybe if he was very lucky, she'd have some idea what was going on.

He would never admit to himself how much of a relief it was to pause outside her kitchen in her garden and listen to the sounds of regular family life coming out through the slightly open window. When he heard her mother asking about what had gone wrong at work that day, he took the chance to peek in and see if he could get her attention. Her face was a mix of shock and relief and within seconds she had darted out the back door.

"Oh Lee, you're all right. I was so worried." It was like a warm blanket hearing her, knowing that she at least had been worried about him.

"I'm fine. I was away on a classified mission." It was ridiculous – she knew that already but he found himself babbling it out Amanda-style, and then she confirmed everything he already knew, that the Georgetown office had been emptied out completely. He was more concerned when she said she hadn't heard from anyone else and in that instant made the decision.

"Do you bowl?"

"Do I bowl?" If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have been laughing at the expression on her face, but right now, all he wanted was to hold on to the one sliver of Agency life he had left and he wanted to keep her with him. It wasn't until they were actually at the bowling alley that she called him on it.

"If I'm not going to be briefed, then why am I here?" It was a good question and he clutched at the one thing he could think of.

"Well, it would look stupid, me going bowling alone." He knew the second he said it that she'd seen through it. Her eyes had lit up with that look he knew was reserved for when he said something dumb or when she knew he was being evasive and she'd done that little head bob to hide the fact she was laughing at him and he'd jammed his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to hug her for her understanding. Co-workers, he repeated like a mantra. Nothing more than co-workers.

He was getting more and more frantic however, as the time passed and he still hadn't been contacted. "Whoever is out, stays out" is what he'd told Amanda. What if he was out permanently? What if Emily had let slip something to Billy about how the London case had affected him? What if he was seen as too much of a loose cannon to be inside whatever crisis had caused Operation Possum to go into effect? He knew Amanda was picking up on the tension because she was becoming more and more soothing with every passing moment, trying to keep him calm.

"You don't bowl? Not at all? Okay, well then I'll show you, come on, Honey." He hadn't even called her on the endearment, he'd just let her try to distract him.

It had taken all his mental strength not to run to the phone when he'd been passed the message to pick up and he'd been fed up to the back teeth with Francine's questions about his status. "I want to come home," he'd told her, recognizing the echo of what he'd said to Emily only a few days ago, and then Francine had said he had to wait longer and hung up. Now the panic was really starting to set in – why was he still being shut out?

Having Yuri Valov show up and beginning to see the shadowy outlines of the case had actually been a relief – he had something to work on, even if it was from the outside. When it had finally started to coalesce and it became apparent the threat they were facing, there'd been no more time for introspection; he could feel the ground firming back under his feet as he did what he knew he did well.

He'd watched in amazement as Valov had extracted all the information from Amanda under hypnosis – he suspected it would not have been as easy if Amanda had not been so eager to be helpful – but he'd noticed how much she had shied away from the idea to begin with. There'd been an element of panic in her babbling reaction as if she were afraid. He recognized it – he'd felt it himself – and for a whisper of a second, he remembered that worry he'd had about her behaviour at Station One. Knowing there was no time to deal with that now, he'd settled for giving her a reassuring look – any kind of physical contact was out of the question in front of Valov – and she'd sat down with instant trust while he'd made sure to sit down in her line of vision.

When she'd bolted from the room after Francine's arrival, he'd watched her go with a mixture of relief and longing. Relief that she was out of the way of danger and with any luck, she'd have the sense to get on that damn train with her family and leave town; longing that she hadn't left at all, that she'd stayed with him – she was becoming his own personal lucky charm no matter how much he tried to prevent it. At least he had a team to work with now though, and leads to follow and any number of things to think about to try and save the world from World War Three.

Despite all that, when she'd walked back in the morning, he'd felt such a calmness come over him. Nothing ever went really wrong with Amanda around it seemed, no matter how dark it appeared and even as he tried to persuade her to leave, his entire inner being had been holding its breath, hoping she'd stay. She had stayed – she had not only stayed, she had insisted that they needed her to go with them. He hadn't been able to hide his smile then; she was so ridiculously pragmatic even in the face of nuclear annihilation. The only crack had come when he'd really tried to send her away and she'd flat out refused. "If that bomb goes off, I don't want to be sitting alone in a cab somewhere with the meter ticking."

He knew she'd added that last part about the meter to make it sound less terrifying but her real emotions was hidden in the rest of the sentence – "I don't want to be alone". Well, neither did he, and if he was going to die trying to stop this, he wanted to go in the company of someone he loved. Cared about, he corrected himself. You don't love a co-worker.

The entire thing had turned out to be a blessing in disguise in the end. By the time they'd stopped the bomb threat and the Agency was still at sixes and sevens trying to get up and running again in Georgetown, Billy had pretty much almost forgotten he'd even been away in the week leading up to it. It was only when it had all finally started to calm down that Billy had asked him absently one morning in the bullpen how it had all gone in London.

"Fine," he'd replied. "Typical Peacock Dance – nothing to it. You know how it is, Billy." Billy had just grunted in agreement, already moving on to the next thing on his agenda and not really paying attention to Lee's answer. He'd heard the small thoughtful noise beside him though and had put on his best agent face before turning to look at Amanda. She was staring up at him with what he mentally called her "mother look" and he wondered what he could possibly have given away in his non-committal answer. He could almost see the gears clicking away behind her eyes, and tossing all his promises to Emily aside, he'd gone on the offensive.

"You know, Amanda," he began, "When I was away, I had a lot of long plane rides to think and I was wondering what went wrong with you at Station One." And that was that – he watched the shutters come down over her face faster than he'd ever seen it on anyone.

"What do you mean, Lee?" she'd asked, suddenly making herself very busy with continuing to reorganize the files from the banker's boxes surrounding her. "I just wasn't very good at a lot of the stuff we were asked to do. I wasn't prepared enough and it showed."

"No, you and I both know you're better at that stuff than you were out there. And this whole bomb thing showed how good you are under pressure and that your instincts are great. I mean, you still managed to figure out what was going on at Station One, but you weren't yourself. You were fine when you got there – what happened?" She continued to shuffle files around for a moment or two, not looking at him. "Amanda?"

She stopped and sighed, still not looking up. For a second he thought she still wasn't going to tell him and then it had all come out in her usual rambling way.

"Well, it's probably going to sound silly because it was so many weeks later and it wasn't like I was really in any danger or anything but I guess it had still been bothering me and even though it was nothing, I guess it just kept bothering me, sort of like shell-shock you know, the way you think you're fine and then you hear a car backfire or something and it all comes rushing back and you get kind of panicky…"

"Amanda!" he'd almost shouted it, holding up one hand as if it was going to hold back the tide of nonsense spilling out of her. She'd jumped and a dull flush had coloured her face. "What happened?"

She'd started picking at her cuticles then and her voice had gotten very small, so he'd had to lean in closer to hear her over the hubbub of the office. "It was when Francine jumped out and grabbed me that first morning. It reminded me of when those guys broke into my house that night. You know, the night we had that…disagreement (You mean fight, thought Lee) and they grabbed me in the same way and I guess it just bothered me more I realized and it kind of affected my concentration for everything else, especially when so many of the classes were being led by her and well, that's what happened." She looked up at him with a sideways glance trying to gauge his reaction before beginning to automatically straighten the files again.

He leaned back and observed her for several seconds. "Well, I can see how that would have done it," he said finally. "I'm sure you'll do better next time, especially if we work on some of that stuff beforehand." He watched her for a minute more, and she braced herself, wondering if he was going to ask anything else. Finally though, he'd straightened up, muttered something about helping with file boxes and walked away.

She sagged a little, releasing the tension once he was out of sight. He believed me, she thought. Thank God. She shuddered for a moment, knowing that the time was long gone to ever admit what had happened in Munich before he'd arrived to bail her out. She would have been a lot less relieved if she'd been able to read his thoughts as he walked down the hall.

You just outright lied to my face, Amanda King, and one of these days, I'm going to find out why.