Written by Scooplet
Concept by Cheryl and Scooplet
Scarecrow and Mrs. King characters are the property of Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Bros. Television. No copyright infringement intended. Not for commercial use. Sarah Stetson and Matt Granger are my creation, however, so please respect my right to claim ownership of them—I do not authorize permission to use them in stories not authored by me.
I Know He Watches Me, Part Two
Chapter Four
Wong's strategy to familiarize his team with the facility had paid off. The Agency freshmen had been able to utilize one of the scenarios their trainer had set up the day before. For the first part of the competition, they would participate in an urban assault exercise that included infiltrating the other team's stronghold, setting booby traps with mock explosives, and taking control of the air strip. Sarah would spend this portion of the exercise acting as the team's sniper.
Her first position was in one of the compound's larger buildings. She climbed the stairs to her position, her rifle secured on her back along with a light pack that held her supply of paintball "ammunition," food, and water. She was tempted to run the last flight, but Matt's concern over the baby had been justified. When she had gone to bed last night, she had been cramping mildly. Sensing she might be under the weather and nervous over the next day's mock battle, the others had left her alone when she had gone to bed at eight-thirty.
This morning Sarah had awakened feeling refreshed, but she did not want to push herself any more than necessary for the rest of the weekend. After climbing the stairs at a steady pace, she made her way to the row of glassless windows that overlooked the intersection. Keeping an eye out for other snipers or NSA team members, she knelt and positioned herself with the AR-10.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality perhaps fifteen minutes, Sarah saw movement in the shadows of a building nearby. She took aim, tracking the unknown figure until she could identify his or her team by the helmet markings. While her team members were supposed to be in place, Sarah did not want to take any chances and embarrass herself by splattering paint all over one of her own team members. She also knew that as soon as she fired a shot, she would make others aware of her position. They were expecting someone to be on the roof, but they would figure out soon enough she was inside the building and try to "take her out."
The figure in the shadows was moving cautiously, but Sarah could seem him clearly now. It was Greg Costas, scouting the area. From where he stood, they could possibly signal one another, but that would give away Sarah's position. He crouched behind an abandoned car for a few moments, and then began making his way back to the Agency team's stronghold.
But he did not get far. Just after he crossed the street to the corner opposite Sarah, paint spattered the wall near Greg. He dashed for cover, narrowly avoiding paintball spatter on another abandoned car and on the street near his feet. He would be pinned down indefinitely, making their team at the stronghold that much weaker if Sarah did not take out the gunman shooting at Greg. Noting the pattern of the paintball spatters, she was relieved to see that they did not come from her building. Not only would she have been at risk of running into the sniper inside the building, but she would have had trouble taking the shooter out of the scenario.
Instead, the gunman was in a building across from Sarah, but either on the roof or in a window facing the street that ran perpendicular to the one she faced. Remembering that building had access from the rear, it was easy to understand how they had missed seeing the shooter.
Using her scope, Sarah checked the roof of the building. With the sniper crouched low and out of sight, just a few hairs blowing in the breeze might show up in her scope. She kept scanning for movement or any other signs of life in the building.
It was on the third floor of the four-story building that Sarah saw him or her. With no glass in the building's windows, Sarah could see several feet inside—enough to pick up a figure who was lit up by the light coming in the window where they were positioned. They were moving now, hoping to gain a better angle and take out Greg. But Sarah already had an angle on them. Yes, she would be giving away her position, but she was doing the job assigned to her.
Carefully she centered the shooter in her scope. He was moving, but not enough to stay out of her range of vision. Pulling the trigger, she gritted her teeth, waiting for the paint splatter to show up on her target. While it was only paint, the guns still seemed too real to her. She hoped she would never have to shoot anyone in earnest with a real firearm.
A faint cry of frustration from the building opposite and a splotch of paint on the shooter's dark assault uniform told Sarah she had been successful. Now that the other team knew that the Agency had a sniper in position, she could speak safely into her mic. "Costas, it's Sparrow. I took care of the shooter for you."
Greg still did not look her way, instead giving a quick thumbs up as he replied, "Saw that. Thanks for getting my back." He sprinted down the street, not waiting for the sniper's backup to come looking for him.
Soon there were two members of the other team sneaking along the street, looking for signs of Sarah. The sniper was out of the contest, but he was allowed to contact the others by radio and let them know he had been hit.
Sarah watched for a moment, then took aim and fired, hitting one of the gunmen on the street. Knowing the other opposing team's member, a woman, would be able to guess her location, she stayed low. But in order to take the shot, she would have to expose herself. She waited until she was certain she could hit the other woman, but before she could pull the trigger, a paintball splattered the wall of the building near Sarah, sending tiny drops of paint onto her rifle. She would have to move. Quickly taking aim, Sarah fired at the woman, grinning when she saw the large orange splash on her jacket.
But Sarah had not been hit. She was still in the game as long as she could make it out of her hiding place and get to another before the other team found her. Grabbing her pack and slinging her rifle over her back, Sarah ran in a crouch to a window on another floor of the building.
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"You're wife has three hits, and we've barely started, Granger." Matt could hear the grin in Wong's voice as he gloated over his trainee. While he had to keep his communications to Sarah at a minimum—she was on radio silence to avoid giving away her position—he could talk to the rest of the team. Positioned in the observation tower, Wong had access to the closed circuit cameras and other equipment that allowed him to monitor the exercise.
"Call him Eagle, Wong." Rene's voice was unmistakable over the frequency they shared.
"I'm already calling his wife Sparrow. We don't have to use code names when we're not undercover."
Matt could envision Rene rolling his eyes at Wong's pedantic behavior.
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Things had grown quiet along the street Sarah now watched. Wong might be sending her to another building now that the NSA team was on to her. The members who had been shot were not supposed to give away her location, but that rule was rarely honored.
"Sparrow. Go to Echo Charlie."
As expected, Sarah was on the move. She tried to remember why Richard Wong and Leatherneck had thought being the sniper would be less work. It was less stressful perhaps, and once she was safely hidden, she could rest after a fashion until someone from the other team came along. But at the moment, she felt the tension rise as she descended the stairs of her building. After checking the surrounding area twice on the way down, she climbed out a basement window at the back of the building and ran toward the location they had codenamed Echo Charlie.
The door of the small townhouse shut silently as Sarah paused to catch her breath. She had seen no one as she had dashed from the cover of dumpsters and abandoned cars to her new location. Now she would need to make certain the building was not already occupied. Using silent feet, she carefully scanned the rooms of the building, using a mirror and pointing her rifle, poised on her shoulder and ready to fire at any occupants.
Both of the floors were clear, so Sarah settled into her new position, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest. The cramps from the day before had not come back, and she was anxious to make sure they did not.
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This was the part of simulations that Matt despised. It was too much like the actual street battles he had experienced from time to time during his stint in Afghanistan. The constant rat-a-tat-tat of automatic weapons firing paintballs, or the occasional boom of a large caliber weapon continued for hours as the team would defend their stronghold. Morning had long since passed, and he had managed to stuff a half a sandwich in his mouth during a lull. It was now late afternoon and his stomach was as hollow as an empty barrel. As an instructor, he was expected to keep up a barrage of fire just like the other team members. Rene had offered to switch places with him partway through the exercise, knowing how tense Matt became in these situations.
But Rene was nowhere in sight, obviously hunkered down somewhere and unable to make it back to the stronghold. Matt was glad that Sarah had not been on the assault team, and he was even more grateful that she had not been subjected to all of the noise at the stronghold. Earplugs only helped so much, and he wondered how adversely loud noises might affect their baby in the first trimester. Besides that, she could rest while she watched from her hiding places, eating the food she had brought with her that day.
His stomach growled, reminding Matt how hungry he was. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out the other half of his sandwich. It was ham on white bread. Not as healthy as he and Sarah normally ate, but he did not care. He was just swallowing the last bite when Rene burst into the room.
"Sorry I'm late. It was hell getting over here."
Matt regarded his partner a moment. A fine spray of orange paint covered his helmet and shoulder. "Looks like you almost got your chance to kick up your heels."
"Geez, when you put it like that, you make me feel like a girl for squealing. That thing practically hit me. It felt real." Rene smirked. "I was taking things so seriously, I didn't think about getting a break from the action."
Remembering how Rene had been hit by bullets—his life saved only by the bullet proof vest he had been wearing—Matt had trouble laughing with him. Rene let everything roll off of his back. While he had been somewhat unnerved by his brush with death, he had not let it bother him for long. Matt supposed he was the same way when his own life was endangered, but he knew he did not handle it well when his partner or Sarah were at risk.
Gathering the two rifles Matt had brought with him for the exercise, he prepared to leave the stronghold. He loaded his pack with ammunition and grabbed a few energy bars and water bottles from the box by the door.
"Take it easy, bro. There are plenty of shadows out there now, but the other team has another sniper."
"Thanks for the tip. At least it's only for another hour. Then we can have some fun taking the airstrip." Matt flashed a quick smile at Rene and headed out the door. It might be more stressful running for cover, but it was better than sitting tight at the stronghold. And knowing Sarah's latest hiding place was on the way to the other team's stronghold, he was pleased he could check on her along the way.
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Settling into her fifth position of the day, this time in a second story classroom of an elementary school, Sarah took a deep breath. She thought of the uneaten food in her pack. The two snack bars she had managed to consume at noon were just a memory, but for some reason she had no appetite. Still, it would be smart to eat a little. Pulling out the sandwich, she tugged at the wrapper and took a bite of just the bread. When her stomach did not protest, she took another bite and kept an eye on the street below her as well as on the distant bridge. She did not expect anyone to try to cross it, but she would make sure they did not. Distant gunfire coming from two directions told her that the strongholds had not fallen.
She was still nibbling at her sandwich when she heard a noise in the empty building. It sounded like it came from the entrance they had used in their practice drills. Silently, she set the half-eaten sandwich in her pack and aimed her rifle at the open door of the classroom. Her body tensed as she waited, listening for another sound, but the distant gunfire had muffled any progress the intruder might be making. As she waited, her whole body alert, she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen.
It's just nerves, Sarah. This is just a simulation. Don't let this get to you. After a moment, the twinge went away and she took a deep breath. If she could not hear anything over the sound of the gunfire, there was no intruder. Or, they were in the same boat she was and could not hear her either.
Then she saw his shadow on the wall across from her room. It had to be a man. She had glimpsed the women on the NSA team and none were over six feet tall—or had a large build.
"Don't shoot!" The man hissed. "It's me." Matt's face peeked into the room before he appeared in the doorway.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi. You really had me thinking I'd been discovered." The tight feeling in her abdomen eased and the rest of her body relaxed.
"Sorry." His voice was still quiet, but Matt closed the distance between them so he could speak in a soft whisper. "But if I used the radio, it might draw too much attention to you—they might be able to pinpoint your location."
"True."
"I used my mirror to make sure you were really still in position and not someone from NSA." He smiled as he lowered his pack.
"Smart thinking." She smiled back.
"You know, you looked pretty hot with that rifle aimed at the door, ready to shoot whoever dared come in here."
Rolling her eyes, she waved a hand in the air. "Oh, stop."
He knelt beside her and gave her a kiss. "You okay?" His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Sarah knew he would see the fatigue on her face.
"Yeah. I'm okay. You know, they probably got you on camera sneaking in here."
"I'm not sure I care. I'll say I brought you a water bottle and some more ammo." He reached into his pack and handed her one of the bottles he had taken, along with some ammunition. "Have enough to eat?" He proffered a snack bar.
"I guess I should take one." Sarah placed it in her pack and pulled out her sandwich so she could nibble on it.
"Well, this exercise will be over soon. You're sniping at the airstrip. It's dark enough."
"You aren't supposed to tell me what we're doing."
"Well, I didn't give any specifics. At least the explosives training is over."
At Matt's grim expression, Sarah could see that Matt wished she had not been a part of that exercise. While the explosives themselves were developed in Hollywood and considered safe, the noise had been bothersome. And Sarah knew that Matt, with his background in handling detonators, did not fully trust even mock explosives.
While Sarah had avoided most of the action, Wong had sent her to another building just as the exercise facilitators had begun setting off the explosives. It was meant to simulate a bombing raid, but Sarah had been too frightened to care.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. It's unlikely you'd ever see anything like that simulated raid. Wong should have let you hole up until it was over."
Sarah shrugged. "Well, I learned something about keeping my cool under fire. Literally. There were flames in one of the buildings I had to pass."
Frowning, Matt did not say anything. A brief vision of running with Sarah in the greenbelt near their townhouse came to mind. The fatigue was causing him to dream of more pleasant circumstances. Knowing that would be a costly distraction, he quickly quashed it. This training would be over late tonight. Once they had debriefed the next day and flown home, their two days off would allow them to run in the greenbelt together—after they had slept for a long time. For now, he needed to get to the assault team before the exercise ended.
Matt moved to get up, but Sarah stopped him with a hand on his arm. She motioned for him to lay flat and raised her rifle to the window. Taking careful aim, she fired.
At the sound of frustration in the parking lot below, Matt knew Sarah had taken out yet another member of the NSA team. He smiled to himself and waited while she aimed the AR-10 again. She fired two shots this time as her rifle followed someone who must have been running down the street. There was no sound, but Sarah's grin of triumph told him that she had been successful once again.
"Well, he took that pretty well. After I hit him, he actually gave me a thumbs up."
"It must be one of the instructors. The guy probably was looking forward to a break before the airstrip exercise."
"I hope so. What's the count so far?"
"I don't know. Wong won't say. Let's get ready to move." Sarah readied her rifle and her pack while they waited for Wong's instructions to come over the radio. They did not have wait more than a minute.
"Sparrow. Proceed to November Papa."
"We're running out of sniper positions, so they have me going to the woods near the airstrip. I guess I'm on my own." She kissed Matt quickly and led the way to the first floor of the building, where he followed her out of a window. He watched as Sarah let go of the sill and dropped to a dumpster a few feet below her. After scrambling to the ground, she took off running through the culvert. It was not a quiet exit, but the sound of gunfire not too far off muffled the noise of her feet hitting the dumpster.
Matt jumped quickly down and headed towards the gunfire. As he crept along the wall leading towards his stronghold, he could not help grinning to himself. The inexperienced young girl he had met ten months earlier was now a trained and capable woman. She might be happier in Analysis, but she was handling field operations just fine.
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"I still don't get why we didn't win. We had Granger—I mean Sparrow—taking out people all over the place." Costas's brow furrowed in frustration.
"More of our people were taken out than theirs. They went by ratios. They had a bigger team, but our hits were too high for the size of our team. Still, we had one of the higher scores they had seen."
Matt watched Sarah, who could hardly keep her eyes open. One hand rested on her waist. He was imagining that it was an unconscious movement—she was instinctively protecting their baby—until she grimaced, obviously in pain. He started and then quickly schooled his features. This was not the time or place to call attention to his wife's condition. But now he was worried. They had run scenarios until well past two o'clock in the morning. It had been obviously been too much for Sarah. He glanced at Rene.
Rene's eyes were on Wong, his brow furrowing at the freshmen training coordinator's words. "…so we won't be getting those days off after all. I need to have you at the Agency tomorrow morning at nine a.m. That will give you an extra hour or more to sleep in."
Sarah's eyes flew open as the room erupted in cries of protest.
"I was kidding. You may not have beat the NSA team, but you got one of the Agency's best scores. Well done. I'll see you Wednesday at nine a.m. We'll meet in the classroom and discuss the next stage of your training. It will be more directed—helping each agent in their weak areas and giving them more time in the field with experienced operatives."
Matt could not hide his expression of disgust. Wong's supposed joke had not gone over well. The team was beyond tired and Wong was already known to be a tyrant. They had taken him seriously and it had demoralized the team so much that they failed to hear his words about receiving a high score. Now they were whispering about "weak areas."
He wondered what Wong would consider Sarah's weak points to be. At least they would not be hand-to-hand combat. Because of her pregnancy, she would have a medical exemption excluding her from further training. Sarah planned to tell Francine early on Wednesday—after that it would become public knowledge as word spread around the Agency.
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Rain slashed the windows of Tristan Bates' Ford, the early spring green of the English countryside obscured in a blur of water. Yellow flowers dotting the grass near the roadway—Lee knew from Amanda that they were daffodils—waved in the wind from the spring storm.
Feeling the touch of Amanda's fingers on his hand, Lee clasped it and turned to her, not failing to miss the look of concern in her eyes.
Margaret was speaking from the front seat. "It was good of you to plan this trip. Of course we both wish it could have been under happier circumstances."
Tristan glanced back at the Stetsons, and then turned to the road once again. "I should warn you: you'll find Lady Farnsworth has declined considerably."
Lee had already expected as much. The last two times he had tried to call, Emily had been unable to talk on the phone. The Bates had been doing their best to keep Lee up-to-date on her condition. Emily had no close relatives—the Bates and the Stetsons were the only family she really had.
The drive from Heathrow seemed longer than usual, but when he glanced at his watch, Lee saw that it been the usual sixty-minute trip.
Once they had shed their raincoats, Tristan disappeared and Margaret led the way to Emily's suite. Knocking softly on the door, she was greeted by a nurse.
"Oh, Mrs. Bates. I just finished helping Lady Farnsworth freshen up for her guests." The middle-aged woman smiled at the Stetsons. "She's been talking about your visit for days."
The nurse slipped past Lee and Amanda, following Margaret down the hall.
"Lee, Amanda. How good to see you," came the feeble voice in the hospital bed across the room. Emily's frame, which had grown thin and frail over the years, seemed even smaller in the bed. Her white hair stood out against the pale blue sheets.
As he and Amanda made their way to the bedside, he realized that Emily had not bothered with her British accent. A trembling hand reached up to pat Lee's arm as he leaned over to kiss Emily on the cheek. "How did you like Charlotte, my nurse? Such a sweet girl." Her arm dropped to the bed.
"Oh, Emily. I didn't even introduce myself." Amanda leaned down to kiss Emily's cheek, too.
"My dear, you can introduce yourself later. She won't be offended. A heart of gold and a disposition of steel, that girl. She won't put up with any nonsense from anyone, but she's as kind as can be." Emily's voice faded off, as if this brief interchange was wearing her out.
"How are you feeling, Emily?" Amanda took her dear friend's hand.
"I'm really very comfortable. I just can't seem to get the energy to get out of this bed. It's quite frustrating. I hope you won't mind taking your tea in here with me."
"We'll visit as often as you like, Emily." Amanda patted Emily's hand with her free one.
Emily turned to Lee, watching him as he looked awkwardly around the room. "I'm glad you came, Lee. We can talk."
"I'm afraid we're wearing you out."
"There are things I want to talk to you about." Emily sighed. "But I am afraid we all might need a rest. You've had a long day and I just can't visit as long as I'd like to."
Lee felt a presence behind him and realized that Charlotte had returned. He turned back to Emily. "I'm glad I came, too, Emily. We'll talk some more in the morning."
"See you then, dears."
Margaret was waiting outside the door. She gestured towards the back of the house and they walked together for a minute or two before she spoke. "The doctor says it's her heart. He's given her new medication, but there has been no change. He keeps saying it takes time, but Emily is failing so quickly."
Amanda sucked in her breath. It was Dotty all over again. Lee brought his arm around Amanda's waist and drew her to his side as they walked.
"It's been a long day, and I'm sure this all quite a shock to you. I arranged to have dinner brought to your sitting room. Tristan and I have some things to talk with you about in the morning. For now, your bags have been brought to your room and your dinner should be along shortly."
Margaret paused outside the suite that had always been reserved for the Stetsons. There were a few mementos of their work together that Emily kept in the room and the housekeeper always had Amanda's favorite soap on hand. While most of the other bedrooms or suites were not locked, the door to their suite was—and now Margaret was handing Amanda the key.
"Sleep well," she said, and went on her way.
Before they could close the door, one of the staff appeared with their dinner cart. He set the table in the sitting room, lit two candles, poured them each a glass of wine, and after leaving the bottle with them, parked the cart outside the room. "Please leave everything and we will retrieve it later."
Amanda followed the man to the door. "Thank you."
"It is my pleasure, madam."
Once they were inside the rooms with the outer door closed, Lee began pacing.
Amanda paused in her path to the table and watched her husband. "I expected you to be a bit sober, down, even upset. Not tense and uneasy."
"I am uneasy, Amanda. Why do the Bates and Emily keep saying we need to talk?"
"That often happens when someone is…"
"…dying. Please don't tiptoe around me. I need to be able to be real with you."
"I wasn't meaning to treat you with kid gloves, Lee. I just don't want to add to your pain." She reached in her pocket for a tissue. "And I guess it's hard to say the words for me. It's so like losing Mother. Emily was not just a cover aunt—she really has been like an aunt to me."
"Me, too." Lee stepped over to Amanda and took her in his arms. "I'm sorry. I know you're grieving, too. This does bring back memories." He kissed her forehead.
"I suppose Emily just wants to say her goodbyes. And the Bates may want to fill you in on Emily's condition."
Lee pulled away and began pacing again. "I think it's more than that. This may be about my parents or something. There are still mysteries surrounding their relationship with Emily."
"What more could she tell you? She explained how they met and became friends."
"Who knows? I guess I'm just on edge. This kind of thing gets to me."
"I know, sweetheart." Amanda sat down at the table and watched Lee pace. "It's been a long day. We should eat our dinner and go to bed."
Lee stopped pacing and stared at his wife thoughtfully. "It's still early yet. You just want to take my mind off of things."
"By eating dinner?"
"You know what I mean." Joining her at the table, he picked up her hand and kissed it. "I love you, Amanda."
"I love you, too, Lee." Amanda placed her free hand on Lee's cheek and looked into his eyes for a moment. An unspoken conversation passed between them. Then she withdrew her hands and peeked under the plate covers. "This looks good. Let's eat first."
Chuckling, Lee took his napkin and placed it in his lap. "Sure. First things first. But only because I heard your stomach growling."