Rusty...the name sounds familiar, I thought. As he approached Amanda and I, I tried to remember where I might have met him. The x-shaped scar above his left eye caught my attention, bringing to mind a memory regarding an event six months prior to meeting Amanda.
=Flashback=
There had been a rumor that one of the higher level agents had gotten involved with a Georgetown University professor, who wanted to stop a student from reporting her to the administration. The plot had been successfully averted, and the student's name cleared, but the agent in question was never found. I had just returned to the office from the field, after finding out I'd been sent on a false milk run, when I saw the agent who had solved the case. He had been injured in the process, but not too badly, although the gauze on his eyebrow surprised me. "Whoa, what's with that?" I asked.
"Spare me the questions, Lee," he answered, almost in a sigh. "In case you're wondering, the prof threw a right hook and cut me with her diamond ring. Just one more thing I have against academic snobs—if you don't agree, you're not worth the effort." He sat down somewhat forcefully.
"But you went to Georgetown yourself."
"I said 'academic snobs', not professors that actually teach."
"What was it all about, anyway?"
He looked like he was unsure what to tell me, then shrugged. "The student had decided to try to learn Russian, since there are people in DC who speak it. Well, one day, she was in a bit of a hurry between classes, but needed to finish gathering materials for an essay due the next afternoon in her art class. As she walked past one room in the library, she overheard a conversation between the professor and a guy she'd never seen on campus, talking about someone named Kreigensch. Even with as little Russian as she had learned, she understood that they were planning to break the guy out of prison."
"Kreigensch? Why him, of all people?"
"You've met him before?"
"Yeah, he's known for taking down agents within hours of each other. I was the one who nailed him."
"Well, I haven't a clue about why they'd spring him, so I'm not the guy to ask."
"So...was she a looker?"
"Was who a looker?"
"The girl you helped, of course."
"Lee, she's an art student, not a supermodel. Besides, it's not practical for an agent to get involved with a civilian—you're the one who said that, by the way."
I laughed at him. "You're right—sorry, Rusty."
"Says the guy who might as well wear skirts with how many he chases."
I narrowed my eyes at the younger guy. "That was low, rookie."
His face showed how bored with the conversation he was. "Whatever."
About a month later, Billy was on vacation, when Rusty left the Agency, leaving nothing behind to indicate his reason for leaving.
+Present+
"How have you been, Mr. Stetson?" the former agent inquired, as he handed Amanda the bag of food.
He remembered me, and I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or bad, since he said he was chaplain. None of the religious types I've met have been above board.
"I've had better days. Rusty, this is Joe King," I stated, pointing to the still silent man a few feet away. "And this is my wife, Amanda."
I expected to hear him jeer at me for becoming soft at my "old age", but he astonished me. "It's good to meet you, Mr. King, Mrs. Stetson." He shook a reluctant Joe's hand before nodding at Amanda. "I once worked where Mr. Stetson works—at least, I'm guessing you still work there. So, how did you guys meet?"
Amanda was eating the fish sandwich he'd brought (which was odd, because she and Rusty had never met before now), so I responded. "I met Amanda when I needed help on a case sometime after you left, and we've been partners ever since. We also got married this past February."
"Wow—congratulations!" I thought I could detect sincerity in his voice, but past experiences refused to let me forget how he was when he was at the Agency.
"And Joe is actually Amanda's ex-husband. We met a couple years ago in the fall, when he needed our help on a project."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Whew, then this is probably awkward for you. What brings you here, though?"
"Before you go any further, young man," came Dottie's voice from the doorway, "Lee already knows this isn't a civilian facility." She made her way to me and Amanda with the requested damp cloth, which she placed against her daughter's neck.
"It's okay, ma'am, I used to come here for stitches and such." He smiled, looking slightly embarrassed at that statement. "Actually, I still do. You wouldn't believe how many times I get slugged in the chapel in one day, on occasion."
"Do the staff know about this?" I asked.
"Yeah. I asked them not to come after me unless they hear a gunshot. Thus far, that hasn't happened; I'm pretty sure that if anyone would shoot me, they'd avoid the chapel like the plague and just wait for me to leave first. Anyway, why are you here?"
We went silent. Amanda stopped eating, and was just staring at the remaining half of the sandwich.
Finally, I spoke. "One of Amanda and Joe's sons was shot this morning—this was the closest hospital we could get to from where the shooting happened."
Rusty looked like he was processing what I'd said, and his face became worried. "I'm really sorry. If there's anything I can do, just let me know." He seemed to want to add more into the conversation, but held his peace. That was weird, because when he worked at IFF, Francine used to call him "highly opinionated"; which was just a kind way of saying "smart-mouth".
"Here she is." I turned to see Jamie at the door, along with the nurse I'd requested for his mother.
Without a word, she walked over to the couch, carrying a blood pressure cuff in one hand and a mildly irritated look on her face. "Excuse me, Mr. Stetson, but I need you to move so that I can take her blood pressure." I stayed silent as I moved away. This nurse, apparently, was the one who had answered the phone regarding Phillip, and I was reminded about how callous she'd seemed then.
As the nurse worked, I observed Joe. He looked worn down, grieving. I suppose he was, since he not only had lost Amanda, but he was on the verge of losing his sons by rejection.
The door opened (again) and Dr. Brandon entered the room. "I'm sorry it took so long. Everyone else was busy, and—whoa!"
Her eyes locked onto Rusty's, who said, "Wait a minute!"
Then, simultaneously, they spoke. "It's you!"
