~~XXIV~~
"Whose picture was removed from the Georgetown foyer?"
Lee groaned in frustration. No question about it, he absolutely hated all things medical. It was no wonder health costs kept skyrocketing when doctors insisted on wasting time with such useless trivia.
"That would be Harry V. Thornton," he answered with as much patience as he could muster, "the founder of the Agency. And before you ask, his new cat's name is Ike, Jr., he's married to Christina Golitsyn, formerly of the Soviet Union, and they just bought a ranch in Montana. At least, that's what he said in his Christmas card." He glowered at Dr. McJohn. "Now, are you finally convinced that there's not a damn thing wrong with my memory?"
"Relax, Scarecrow. I've only got a few more questions. If your memory is as complete as you claim, then you know full well that this is standard Agency procedure."
"It's not standard procedure to grill a man for hours," he grumbled.
McJohn smiled. "We've only been at this for twenty minutes."
Lee rolled his eyes then tried a different tactic. "Come on, Colonel, give me a break. I'll answer anything you want after I've seen Amanda."
"The sooner we finish up here, the sooner you can do just that," the good doctor chuckled, seeing right through his ruse. "Now, let's get back to business. The current head of the Agency is . . ."
"A pompous, nursery rhyme spouting ass," Lee snapped, his tolerance for the absurd finally spent. "And be sure to quote me word for word in your damned report. Now, I'm out of here," he said, jumping off bed and barreling towards the door.
A large, uniformed agent barred his way. Lee raised his eyebrows. Where did they find these recruits? The guy looked like he could play the entire backfield for the Washington Redskins. "This is ridiculous," he shouted, his frustration reaching new heights as he saw no way around the burly guard. "This is my wife we're talking about. Surely I have a right to see her!"
"Well, well, well," a voice sniped sarcastically from the intercom. "I'd heard you were back to normal, Scarecrow. It's good to know it's not just an idle rumor. Welcome back."
"Thanks," Lee returned in kind as he recognized the speaker. "Now would you kindly tell the Incredible Hulk here to step aside so that I can go see Amanda?"
There was a burst of static as the intercom switched off and, seconds later, the door opened. Billy Melrose nodded to the guard, who stepped aside to allow Dr. Smyth to enter the room.
The Agency's director took an exaggerated drag from his cigarette holder then blew a puff of smoke in Lee's direction. "Why the big hurry, Scarecrow? The fair Amanda is still fast asleep, or so I'm told. Isn't that right, Melrose?"
Billy narrowed his eyes, obviously making a superhuman effort to hold on to his temper. "Yes. I just left her room. She hasn't regained consciousness yet."
Lee frowned at Billy. "She's still out?"
"Yes," Billy replied, "but I'm told it's nothing to be concerned about."
"There, you see?" Dr. Smyth's lips curved into a smile, his cigarette holder clamped tightly between his teeth. "Everything is right as rain. Time to put the family issues on the back burner and make some hay while the sun shines. The boys from Justice are champing at the bit to get their hands on you."
"Well, they can damn well wait until after I've seen my wife," Lee spat through clenched teeth.
Dr. Smyth started to say something, but seemed to think better of it as Billy Melrose and Dr. McJohn both glared at him. "All right," he said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Never let it be said that I don't have a ticker of gold. You have exactly thirty minutes to affect a touching little reunion with Mrs. Scarecrow, then I expect you down on level six pronto to play paddy cake with the Justice Department. Finch has already turned this Agency upside down, and I want that man behind bars where he belongs."
"Don't worry," Lee ground out, his thoughts on the ordeal he and Amanda had both gone through. "I have no intention of letting that weasel slip through our fingers."
"See that he doesn't," Smyth said as he turned to leave. "Thirty minutes, Scarecrow," he tossed back over his shoulder. "I may be a nursery rhyme spouting ass, but I can still fry your sorry backside whenever the spirit moves me. Am I making myself clear as crystal?"
"Perfectly," Lee returned, adding a hastily muttered 'sir' to his reply. He glanced apologetically at Billy as Dr. Smyth slammed the door. "I guess I should have realized Big Brother was watching," he said with a short groan.
"Yes," his boss replied dryly, "you should have. Lucky for you he's so desperate to convict Finch."
"At least that's one thing we can agree on." Lee drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. "Now . . . how's Amanda, really? And why is she still unconscious after almost three hours?"
Billy's brows drew together as he frowned. "Everyone reacts a little differently to the antidote formula. Remember, when you were initially hit with the gas, you came out of it well before Amanda did."
Somehow Lee didn't find those words didn't particularly comforting. "Okay," he said as he caught the look that passed between the other two men. "What aren't you telling me?"
"It's nothing serious," McJohn responded, a little too quickly for Lee's taste. "The antidote had a side effect we hadn't anticipated, that's all."
"Such as?"
"Ventricular tachycardia upon effusion . . ."
Lee sighed and shook his head. "In English, Doc."
"Sorry. You both developed a slight cardiac arrhythmia shortly after we administered the drug. A rapid, irregular heartbeat," McJohn clarified as Lee shot him another annoyed look. "I'm convinced it was only a temporary reaction to the sudden stress on your system."
Lee felt his stomach drop. "That sounds pretty serious to me."
"No, not at all," Dr. McJohn assured him. "Not in an otherwise healthy heart. Your vitals returned to normal quite quickly, Scarecrow."
"And Amanda's vitals?" he demanded.
McJohn hesitated. "The irregularity lasted a bit longer in her case, but I'm certain there will be no long term effects. Her E.K.G. is perfectly normal now. I fully expect her to regain consciousness at any time, but all we can do at the moment is to wait and see."
Lee grimaced. 'Wait and see' . . . never his strong suit, especially where Amanda was concerned. He remembered when they'd been out in California . . .
The room swirled suddenly as the floor began to move beneath his feet. Stumbling to a chair, Lee sank down and held his head in his hands. It was almost like being forced to stand motionless in the path of an oncoming train; he couldn't seem to stop the overpowering series of images from assaulting his brain. He could even smell the sickly odor of antiseptic in the air. Oh, God . . .
He tried to take a deep breath, to no avail. He never could stand that particular stench. It reminded him of things he'd much rather forget . . .
The high-pitched squeal of the ambulance siren . . . the I.C.U.'s dismal visitor's lounge . . . the harsh glare of the lights in the hospital corridor . . .
He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help. He could see it all, hear it all, as if it was yesterday . . . the intercom blaring out 'Code Blue', the hospital personnel racing a crash cart down the hall, Dotty's voice, heavy with emotion, resounding in his ears . . . 'Lee! It's Amanda!'
Breathing harshly, he wiped the cold, clammy sweat from his forehead. My God . . . they'd had to shock her heart . . . After all the trauma she'd endured from the shooting, he should never have allowed her to risk taking that blasted antidote. It was just too dangerous. What on earth had he been thinking?
Of course, that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't been thinking at all. Finch and his damned gas had made sure of that. He really couldn't wait to nail that bastard to the wall.
He felt Billy's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Amanda is perfectly all right," his friend was saying. "Listen to McJohn, Lee."
A voice droned from somewhere over his head. "Some disorientation is to be expected in a case like this. The sensory overload can be hard to handle initially. It might not hurt to have him talk to Dr. Pfaff."
Lee rose from the chair as if in slow motion. "I do not need to talk to Pfaff," he said clearly and distinctly, so that no one would mistake him. "I need to talk to my wife." He sent Billy a pointed look. "Right now."
Billy nodded and took him by the arm. "Just go easy, Scarecrow," his friend advised as he escorted him to a room at the far end of the hall. "She's bound to be a little confused when she first wakes up." Pausing briefly, he patted Lee comfortingly on the back. "And remember, the monitoring equipment is just a precaution. You came out of this in good shape, with your memory fully restored. There's no reason to believe Amanda won't do the same."
Lee managed a nod, then, moistening his dry lips, he slowly entered her room. Amanda lay quietly on the narrow hospital bed, her eyes closed, her dark hair framing a face that looked a little too pale to Lee's eyes. The host of wires peeking out from beneath her hospital gown led back to several different machines, all tracking her condition with a variety of beeps and blips. The only thing missing was that damned oxygen tent, he thought grimly as he struggled once again to banish the memories of California from his head.
He let out a deep breath and looked at the nurse. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked in a low voice.
The woman stood to check one of the machines, then smiled and nodded. "She's fine, Mr. Stetson," the nurse promised. "It shouldn't be too long now – she's been showing signs of regaining consciousness. I'll be right outside if you need anything."
As he heard the door close, Lee sat in the chair the nurse had vacated and reached for Amanda's hand. He held it tightly in his own, his thumb brushing over her engagement ring and wedding band. He'd behaved like such a damn fool, he thought as he brought her fingers to his mouth and tenderly kissed them. At least he'd had sense enough not to walk out on her, but . . . Lee bit down hard on his lower lip. That awful dinner with Elisa Danton . . . how could he have considered going home with another woman, even for a minute?
Lee groaned. Thank God he hadn't let their ridiculous flirtation go any farther than it had. Even allowing Elisa to believe there might be a possibility of anything happening between them seemed like a betrayal of the vows he'd made to his wife. And to make matters even worse, Elisa Danton was one of the biggest gossips in D.C. Once this nightmare was finally over with, he'd have to make sure she understood once and for all exactly where things stood. And make things up to Amanda somehow. He'd put her through so much; Emily, too.
Lee's frown turned to a tender smile as he thought of his daughter. He couldn't wait to see her again. A few days before the gas incident, he'd promised Em he'd take her to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. They'd have to work in a quick trip as soon as this Finch mess was settled.
Amanda stirred and made a soft, moaning sound, then fell silent again. Lee gave her fingers a squeeze, but there was no response. Not quite conscious yet. He continued to watch her, letting his thoughts drift pleasantly back over their anniversary celebration in New York. What an ass he'd been, grumbling through the entire performance of 'Les Mis'. Of course, he hadn't realized the significance of that play at the time.
He found himself smiling as another series of memories washed over him. Here was something he was more than happy to recall . . . that very special weekend in late March of 1987.
Amanda had been going stir-crazy ever since she'd been released from the hospital after her shooting. It hadn't been an easy recovery for her . . . or for him, either, for that matter. They were still newlyweds, and he missed his wife. Without the haven of work, they hadn't been able to spend much time alone together. Even her doctor had eventually agreed that a change of scenery might be beneficial, so when the opportunity for a quick overnight trip to New York presented itself, Lee had jumped at the chance.
He could still see the look of excitement on her face when he presented her with two tickets to the hottest new musical on Broadway. He knew how badly she'd wanted to see 'Les Mis'. They'd intended to catch the play the week prior to their wedding, during its limited preview engagement in D.C., but a few Russian goons on a dark street corner had drastically altered those plans. So instead of enjoying an evening at the Kennedy, they had been staging a coup of their own by breaking into the Russian Embassy. Unlike the unfortunate students in the play, their little revolution came to a happier conclusion when they found the antidote to PD-2, but Lee had promised her a rain check to see the play as soon as their hectic schedules allowed.
Little did they know that one, brief weekend trip was destined to change their lives. After a matinee performance of the play followed by an early dinner at Tavern on the Green, they'd retired to their suite at the Plaza. Lee shook his head at the memory, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. It had been the first time they'd been able to make love since the day after their wedding; small wonder being careful was the last thing on either of their minds. Though Amanda had been on the pill, her accident had disrupted the cycle. About six weeks later, when the pregnancy test came back positive, they'd discovered exactly how much.
"Lee."
His name came out of her mouth as a breathy rasp. He quickly jerked his head up, his concern mediated a little by her smile and the steady pressure of her hand on his. Relief flooded through him as she met his steady gaze; he'd never been so glad to see those deep brown eyes of hers finally open.
"I feel like a truck ran over me," she groaned as she attempted to sit up. "What on earth did Dr. McJohn put in that concoction of his, anyway?"
Lee gently pushed her back down on the bed. "Give it a few minutes," he advised. "I felt the same way when I woke up. Amanda," he added as she nodded her head and closed her eyes, "do you, uh, know what day it is?"
"Yes," she whispered groggily. "It's Monday, February 15, 1993. And this is the Agency clinic."
"And you know who I am?" he asked anxiously.
Amanda smiled as she opened her eyes again. "Of course I do," she replied, linking her pinky finger with his. "You're my husband."
"Yeah," Lee said, "I sure am." Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "I was so worried when McJohn told me about the side effects of that damned antidote. I thought maybe . . . well, everything's fine now," he said, grinning as her eyes widened. "And I promise - no more of these little holiday adventures of ours. Next Christmas we won't even leave the house, I swear. We're getting much too old for our standard holiday drill."
"Lee . . ." Amanda tilted her head and frowned. "I'm sorry, I . . . what are you talking about?"
Lee felt his stomach begin to churn. No, it couldn't be; he was just fine. "Amanda," he said, affecting a casual smile, "tell me something. How do we usually end up spending Christmas Eve?"
She rubbed her fingers against her temples, the puzzled expression on her face suddenly turning to fear. "The answer's not hanging stockings, is it?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Oh, Lee," she gasped, her breathing growing more agitated as she shook her head lightly. "I . . . I still can't remember!"
TBC