Bomber Fathers

Rating: PG

Classification: Romance/Fluff

Disclaimer: I was a year old when this series came out. What do you think?

Summary: Revisiting Lee's words on The Mole. Set November, 1987

Spoilers: The Mole and probably anything past Night Crawler.

Lee Stetson had forgotten just how loud a high school gymnasium could be.

Then again, he'd never been Stateside during basketball season in his high school years—let alone during a playoff game against the school's biggest rival.

"Come on, sink it!" Amanda, Lee's wife of ten months yelled from beside him. Lee glanced over at her with a grin and leaned forward in his seat.

"You've got this one!" he called, watching as his stepson darted down the court and sank a perfect basket just as the half time buzzer sounded.

Immediately three quarters of those sitting in the bleachers jumped to their feet. Philip's basket had just pushed the Arlington Avengers into the lead.

Lee and Amanda joined the throng of standing parents too, although Lee couldn't help but notice Amanda's bounce lacked the spring he was used to seeing. She also sat back down fairly quickly—too quickly, he thought. He sat down and leaned towards her. "You okay?"

"Just a little tired." Amanda offered an apologetic smile. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

Lee squeezed her arm. "Tell you what—why don't I handle the refreshment run this time? You stay here and get ready for the second half."

"Just a Sprite this time," Amanda answered. "I think those sandwiches were more filling than I realized."

"Trademark stakeout recipe—designed to last for the night." He dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "See you in a few."

It wasn't until Lee had stepped out into the hall that he remembered. Amanda hadn't finished the last half of her sandwich. Philip had on his way out the door. And she'd fallen asleep during the news the night before.

Lee shrugged off his misgivings. It wouldn't be the first time Amanda had opted to power through a cold or flu for the sake of her kids. And they had been working a lot of hours lately.

Well, Lee had been working a lot of hours. Come to think of it, Amanda had gone home early twice that week.

Lee barely remembered giving his order or paying for it before he was scrambling back up the bleachers, taking the steps two at a time. Amanda started to greet him with a smile, but almost immediately pulled back. "You got fries with your vinegar?"

"I know, I know—I never should have done that month undercover in England," Lee began, but his voice quickly trailed off as Amanda continued to pull back. "Amanda..."

"It's just..." Amanda pulled back a little too quickly, her shoulders coming squarely in contact with the arm of a teenage girl kneeling on the seat beside her, talking to someone in the row behind. The slush the girl was holding rocked sideways, sending a flood of neon green, fluorescent peach, and bright purple ice down Amanda's arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she burst out before staring at her shoulder. The peach and green had coagulated in a color Lee didn't think he'd ever seen in nature. In fact, he didn't think he'd seen the oddly greenish tint on Amanda's face in nature either. Except, there had been that one op in Hong Kong...

Lee started to jump to his feet. "Amanda?"

"Excuse me!" Amanda pushed him back into his seat and bolted past him, one hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

Yeah, he had seen that color in Hong Kong. In the mirror, three hours after accepting some doctored squid and just before... Lee darted down the bleachers after his wife.

He found her leaning over a garbage can in the hall, ten feet short of the nearest washroom. He didn't say a word, just held her shoulders in support. Only when the heaves had given way to coughs did he pull one hand away enough to gently rub her back.

"Easy, easy. Don't rush it," Lee said softly. Amanda lifted her head up before gratefully sagging against him. Quickly he transferred both of his arms around her. "Just relax. Let's get you sitting down."

He started trying to lower her into a sitting position, but she immediately stiffened. "No—not here!"

Lee glanced around, taking in the sights—and smells—of teenagers laughing and snacking around them. "Yeah, good idea. Let's just get you home."

Amanda looked up miserably. "But the game..."

"Forget the game. Philip will understand. Now come on." He gently but firmly propelled her down the hall and out the door to the car.

Lee was grateful they'd opted for the station wagon that night. With both boys getting rides with friends, they'd briefly considered the corvette, which didn't have a back seat. He gently settled Amanda in, using his jacket as a pillow for her, hoping they wouldn't get stopped between the school and home.

Amanda looked up just as he started to close the door and tried to force a smile. "My dad always said 'Better out than in.'"

Lee just chuckled before hurrying around to the driver's side and pressing the gas.

00000 00000 00000

Amanda leaned back against her pillows in frustration.

This was not how she had intended to spend this evening.

There was a cake downstairs for after the game that she still needed to ice. When she tried making that protest to Lee, he simply reminded her that Dotty would be able to do that after the game. Then he'd ushered her upstairs as fast as if he were trying to get a witness out of the line of fire.

Well, yes, her mother could ice the victory cake for Philip and his friends. But she couldn't do the second cake; the small one Amanda had made just for her and Lee to share.

The thought of a gooey chocolate cake made her stomach turn over again and she grimaced. Okay, so she wouldn't have actually been able to eat the cake anyway.

Lee must have seen the expression as he entered the bedroom, because his stepped quickened and he reached the bed in two seconds. "Again?"

Amanda shook her head, hoping she was telling the truth. "I don't think so."

"Here, this should help." Lee handed her a glass of pale yellow soda and eased her into a semi-sitting position so she could take a step. "Good thing you bought so much ginger ale for the Halloween punch last month."

"I haven't had straight ginger ale in years," Amanda admitted.

"Neither have I, but I don't think that's a story you want to hear right now," Lee quipped, sitting down next to her on the bed.

Amanda giggled and reached up to touch Lee's shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing the pattern of his blue and green knit sweater. Philip's team had a firm dress code for parents attending games—no clothing with school colors, logos, or other "embarrassing" identifiers unless they were playing a home game against the Lincoln Prep Patriots. Then it was every family member's duty to form the largest blue and green wall of intimidation possible. Amanda's own emerald green T-shirt and rich blue hooded sweatshirt could still be seen lining the top of the laundry basket.

Amanda's smile widened. Maybe this was better than a cake.

Lee noticed her expression. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing." Amanda continued fingering the sweater. "I'm just remembering a certain man who refused to war a Bomber's cap, said he'd never be a Bomber father..."

Lee chuckled. "Well, both Philip and Jamie outgrew that team, so technically..."

"Yeah, technically you'll have to wait another seven years." Amanda could feel the way Lee's body stilled and knew he was staring at her. Resolutely she kept her eyes focused on his sleeve. "Well, I mean—they do allow six-year-olds to play—they started the year after Jamie joined—but it's only November now and baseball season isn't till spring, and we have to factor in the nine months..."

"Nine months!" Lee pulled her into a hug before she could answer, then leaned back so he could look into her face, his eyes already sparkling in hopeful expectation. "You mean..."

Amanda grinned at him. "I mean you've given me another package to deliver!"

THE END