More Than You Know
Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King is owned by Warner
Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions.
Characters introduced in this story belong to the respective authors. This is Episode 17 of the Season 5
Project. Season 5 can be viewed at http://www.geocities.com/a_bit_dotty/SMK5Reruns.htm
Authors:
Jenny (Jalynrn@smkfans.com) and Love
(angelialove8@yahoo.com)
Summary:
Lee and Amanda learn something about Dr. Smyth.
Rating:
PG
Warning:
You might want to reach for the tissue box for some parts of this story.
Feedback: Positive and constuctive feedback is
prefered. No flames please.
Author's
notes:
Jenny:
Thanks to the best beta readers in the known galaxy, Chris. I may confuse her and
even abuse her, nah not really, but she still comes through for me. Thanks
Chris, you are the best! And Sybil, what would I do without you? You are and
always will be the comma queen!
Love:
A big thanks to Jenny for letting me co-write this with her and for helping out
with the betaing. Another big thanks to Chris for her betaing. A special thanks
to Sybil for not only betaing this, but for coming up with the title. A super
huge thanks to the SMK5 team for allowing me to be a part of this wonderful project.
I really need to thank my uncle for putting up with my questions. He had no
idea why I was asking them, but he answered them anyway. I also need to thank
my mom for her help. All locations mentioned in this story are real places.
April
1971
Austin Smyth departed the plane at Dulles with
a quick step and a light heart. He looked eagerly into the crowds at the
terminal, searching for that one special face that never failed to make him
smile. One scan, then, a second, of the people gathered there did not reveal
the beloved face to him. He shrugged mentally. 'Oh, well, Thornton must have
given her an assignment.' He usually did when he thought they were getting too
close. If he only knew how close they already were.
The tall, slim man with sandy blond hair worked
his way through the crowds. He made his way to the outside exit and hailed a
cab. The address he gave the driver took him to Georgetown. He paid the cabbie,
took his carryon from the seat, and proceeded up the walk of the average looking
building. The sign outside read, "International Federal Film." Austin
retrieved his key from his pocket and, after a quick look over his shoulder,
entered the foyer. There, an attractive blond sat at a desk, her hands hidden
underneath its flat surface.
"Hello, Marge. How are you?" Austin
smiled charmingly at the 'receptionist.'
The title on her desk nameplate was misleading.
She was no ordinary receptionist. She did, indeed, sit in the foyer and direct
any and all visitors to the appropriate area, but only after clearing them with
security. She waited for Austin to give the word of the day. If he gave the
correct word, she would push the button that verified his clearance, and the
boys downstairs would be informed that he was in the building. He would receive
his badge, enter the elevator, and go to his section chief for debriefing.
"Good day, Mr. Smyth." Nothing more
nothing less. She would say no more until he gave the correct password. He knew
this well, and still he enjoyed the game of trying to get her to break her
rules. He spoke of nothing much for the next few minutes, all the while meeting
her stony gaze. Finally, eager to see his partner, he relented and gave the
password for the day.
"Blackguard, Marge. The word is
blackguard." He stood from where he had perched on the corner of her desk
and accepted his badge. He secured it to his lapel and started to enter the
elevator. Almost as if in afterthought, he called over his shoulder. "Oh,
Marge, is Nancy here yet?"
Marge Marston's face became closed once more.
She thought rapidly. If Smyth knew, he would be out of the elevator and in
search of his partner, Nancy Michaels, before she could get someone here to
stop him. And Mr. Thornton had made it abundantly clear that Smyth must be
debriefed immediately upon his arrival. He carried very important information
that was vital to the well being of several ongoing investigations. She
swallowed her own beliefs about right and wrong. She lied.
"Oh, I believe she's due in later, Austin.
I'll let her know that you're here, okay?" She darted her gaze to the
place where Nancy Michaels' badge should have been hanging, next to her
partner's now empty one. She and Austin had been friends for several years. She
hated to lie to him, but what else could she do. If he barged out now, he would
have no future at the Agency. And she knew that soon, his career would be all
that he had.
Austin quickly made his way to the office of
Section Chief Harry V. Thornton. Why he retained that particular title, no one
knew. The man was the creator of the Agency. He had been the first man in the
doors when Project Pyramid had been completed, and by all rights, he should now
be in some bureaucratic office, pushing papers and taking it easy. But Harry
just refused to go. He'd been part of the active workings of the Agency longer
than there had been an Agency, and he wasn't going to stop now. He refused any
and all promotions that would take him away from working directly with the agents
he had recruited.
Thornton had taught Smyth a lot. Austin admired
and respected him. But lately, it seemed that the older man had an inner voice
that told him things no one else knew, and he seemed bound and determined to
get in their way. He and Nancy had discussed this new phenomenon just before he
left. Nancy had laughed and told him he was being a paranoid spy again. She was
certainly the easier going of the two. She could laugh off things that he could
not. Perhaps that was why they were good partners. What one lacked, the other
supplied. It worked, in the field and out.
Austin arrived at his destination, knocked,
then entered. Thornton looked up and nodded. He was on the phone. He finished
his conversation, then greeted the younger man. "Austin, glad you're back.
What have you got?"
"A lot, old man. A lot." Smyth
laughed lightly. Thornton really hated to be called old man.
Thirty minutes later, the debriefing complete,
Austin stood to go to his desk and file his official report. As he was leaving,
he casually asked, "Oh, by the way, where is Nancy? I expected her to be
here already. I want to get caught up on what I missed with our other
cases."
Harry seemed to hesitate. He looked at Austin,
thoughtfully.
He knew something, Austin was sure of it. The
older man opened his drawer and pulled out a single paper. It was single-spaced
and typed on IFF letterhead. The whole of it didn't even cover the top quarter
of the page. Harry held it out to the agent in front of him. Austin reached for
it, and for some inexplicable reason, felt a shiver go through his body. A
sense of foreboding such as he had never experienced before washed over him.
He spoke without reading the words.
"What's this?"
Harry Thornton stood from behind his desk and
walked to the door. He closed it and pulled the blinds. He stood before Austin
and motioned for him to sit.
Austin shook his head. "No. Harry, tell me
what is going on! Nancy should have met me at the airport. Marge says she isn't
here yet, but she always comes in early. Where is she?" His voice had
become agitated, and images of all the worst possible things flew through his
mind. 'Had she been shot? Kidnapped? Was she in the hospital, or worse?'
"Austin, read it." Thornton indicated
the paper, hanging limp in the other man's hand.
Smyth stared into his superior's eyes. As
usual, they were blank. You didn't get anything out of Harry V. Thornton,
unless he wanted you to. He lowered his gaze to the paper and began to read
aloud.
To
whom it may concern:
I, Nancy Michaels, do
hereby resign my position as field agent and official representative of The
Agency. This resignation is effective immediately. I will, of course, continue
to abide by my oath of secrecy and will not, in any way, reveal my knowledge of
this facility or its purpose.
Nancy
Michaels
Austin read this twice, not comprehending the
first time what he was seeing. He sat heavily. What in Hell was going on? Nancy
would never leave the Agency. She wouldn't leave him. Dear Lord, they were more
than partners. They were best friends, lovers. She was his wife, damn it. She
loved him and he loved her. She wouldn't just leave him.
Austin crumpled the paper in his fist and
hurled it at Thornton. "No. No, I don't believe it. Don't you dare file
this thing, yet. I'm going to find her."
"Austin it's too late. She filed this
herself. She bypassed me and went straight to the top. I didn't know until it
was already too late. I'm sorry." He laid one reassuring hand on the
younger man's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off. He stepped back and held
up a placating hand. "Fine, Austin, but don't let this get in the way of
your job. You lost a partner to another job or a way of life. It's not like you
lost your wife to another man, or something." His tone was light and
jovial. He had no idea of the dangerous ground he trod on.
For one brief instant, Thornton believed that
Smyth was about to hit him. He braced himself and even thought of calling for
security. Smyth glared at him for long moments, then whirled and rushed out of
the office. He took the hall at a dead run and jabbed at the elevator buttons
viciously. When the bell dinged, announcing its arrival, Austin stepped in and
rode down to the Georgetown foyer. He flew past Marge's desk, flinging his
badge heedlessly in her direction. She considered calling after him, but
didn't. It seemed he'd heard the news.
Twenty minutes later, Smyth rushed up the
stairs of his apartment building. He ran past the other tenants, unmindful of
their stares. He fumbled with his keys, finally locating and using them to open
the door of his apartment. He had been gone two weeks and his rooms were dusty
and smelled stale when he flung open the door and flipped the light switch. He
stopped short. Nancy never let his apartment get like this. She always came by
and watered the plants. After all, they were her plants. She usually opened the
windows and let the place air out occasionally. Sometimes she even slept here even
when he wasn't home. She said it made it easier to wait for him to return.
He rushed to the kitchen, but the plants on the
windowsill were brown tipped and droopy. He went to the bathroom. Her make up
and hairbrush were gone from his cabinet. He turned next to the door of their
bedroom. They spent most of their nights together here. They had spent their
wedding night here. The first time they'd made love had been right here. On the
nights they had to be apart, he'd lay, holding her pillow, inhaling the faint
smell of her shampoo and the scent that was uniquely her own.
His hand shook as he turned the doorknob and
allowed the wooden panel to swing open into the room darkened by the pulled
blinds and heavy drapes. He reluctantly turned on the overhead light. He closed
his eyes tight, unwilling to see what was before him. All traces of her were
gone. Her robe no longer hung on his closet door. Her dresser drawer stood open
and empty. Her nightgown and slippers were nowhere to be seen.
His mind whirled as he reasoned away the
obvious. She was mad at him. That was it. He'd done something to irritate her
and this was her way of telling him. Once she had gone two whole weeks without
speaking to him in private when he'd made her angry. He'd had to buy two-dozen
roses and one very expensive bottle of wine before she'd opened up and told him
what the problem was. She must be hiding at her own apartment, just waiting for
him to figure it out and come to apologize to her. His heart slowed from it's
frantic beat. That was it. Well, whatever she wanted today, she would get. If
it would bring her back into his arms, he would beg on bended knees, all night.
He rapidly made his way back out of his own
deserted apartment. He rushed up two flights of stairs to Nancy's door. He
inserted his key and tried to turn the knob. It wouldn't budge! His key didn't
work. So she changed the locks. She must really be hot. He shook his head
ruefully. Whatever he had done, he had a lot of making up to do. He looked
around furtively, then removed his lock picks and quickly gained entrance to
Apartment 4B. It was empty; no furniture, no curtains, no dishes, no Nancy.
Dear God, what was he going to do? He leaned against the wall and felt his
knees give way. He sank to the floor with his head cradled in his hands. For
some time, he remained where he fell, his mind desperately trying to make sense
of what it had been given. Finally, he stood and returned to his own rooms;
sure he would find some clues there. He knew one thing as well as he knew his
own name. Nancy loved him and he wasn't about to give up on finding her.
Once back in his own apartment, he looked much
more carefully. Still, he found no trace of their lives together or their vows
to each other. His last sweep brought him to the locked drawer in his bureau.
His hands shook as he used the tiny key to open the mechanism. He pulled open
the door and stared at what lay before him. A single sheet of paper lay where
their wedding bands and marriage certificate should have been.
He picked up the paper and saw his own band
shining dully in the bottom of the drawer. Nancy's was not to be seen. He
slipped his on the fourth finger of his left hand. It fit perfectly, just as it
always had, just as Nancy always had fit into his arms. He sat on the edge of
the bed and stared at the letter he held. He knew it held the answers to all
his questions, yet he feared to open it. Could he stand to read what was
written there? Could he stand not to read, not to know? No of course not. He
opened the folded paper and began to read.
My
dearest Austin:
Please do not hate
me. I have loved you as I have never loved any other. You have been friend,
partner, husband, and lover to me. You held me up when I could not do so for
myself. You made me smile and laugh when my world was ending. I owe you much
and it is for this reason that I leave you now.
We cannot continue
as we are. I'm holding you back. I don't enjoy our work as you do. I fear that
one day I will hinder you in some way and cause some harm to befall you.
Neither can I sat back and watch you go off into the field day after day, never
knowing if you will return or not. It eats at my soul and at our love, until I
fear that I do not truly love you, as I should as a wife should.
Neither can I live
with the half-lives that we are now leading. I need to love and live openly and
freely, and we may never do that. Don't search for me. I do not wish to be
found. I know how to insure that. I had a good teacher.
Nancy
For the two weeks that followed Austin Smyth's
homecoming, he searched for his wife day and night. He simply could not believe
that she would leave him. He had read the note, but he had also seen that her
wedding band was nowhere to be found, so she must have taken it with her. If
she truly had wanted to leave it all behind, she would have left that tiny gold
circlet as well.
He took leave of the Agency without
explanation, not that one was needed. Most anyone who worked with Smyth and
Michaels knew that he was in pursuit of her. Not once did he come close to
finding her.
He spent long days with contacts, and even
longer nights alone; not sleeping, not eating, merely existing. Finally,
nearing exhaustion and mental collapse, he went home. He purged his mind and
his soul of every trace of his wife and their former life together. He removed
his wedding band and swore that he didn't love her anymore and that he would
never love again. Sometimes, he even believed himself.
He stayed with the Agency and soon made his way to the top
of the bureaucratic ladder. He never had another partner and he never married
again.
