AN: Reviews sustain me. They are my victuals.

/

Amanda was still shaking when Lee steered her to the safety of the street. She'd been manhandled, threatened, shot at, and dangled from a crane, all in short succession. Needless to say, her nerves were frayed. Lee noticed her silence and turned her to him.

"Are you sure you're alright?" There was a desperate note in his voice and his face was heavy with concern. Amanda wasn't sure if it was the afternoon sun beating down on them, or Lee's hands atop her arms, but she was suddenly very warm.

"Oh yes, I'm- I'm fine."

"You're sure?" A smile began to peek through the worried lines and layers.

"Mhm, I'm alright." Her words stumbled over each other as much as her wobbly legs. "Well, tell me, what was in those hairdryers anyway?"

Lee let out a little guffaw. "Nothing much, just those terrorist guns we were after… Maybe we can get a drink sometime and I'll tell you all about it."

"Maybe," she said, as non-committal as possible. Taking a bracing breath, she continued, "Listen, Lee, about last week..."

"Amanda…" Like the flick of a switch, the air between them became charged and uncomfortable.

"I know that neither one of us wanted to discuss it earlier-"

"Amanda, you don't need to-"

"I really do," she said, gathering the strength to be candid. She smoothed down the front of her skirt before spouting the words she needed to say, and the words he needed to hear.

"I'm, um, a bit confused by all the signals you've been giving me. One minute you're giving me the cold shoulder, the next you're flirting with me before bed, and I just want to clarify a few things. Now, I don't know if that was just intended to be a… "friendly" thing, but if we are friends, I think we should set some boundaries."

"A-man-da."

"I'm all for having fun—Lord knows I had enough of it in college—and what we had was fun, don't get me wrong, but I have a mother and two sons to think about. I thought, maybe, we could… continue things, give stuff a shot. But then you said those things at the office, and then you were singing a different tune on assignment, and now-"

"Amanda." Lee shushed her with a couple fingers over her mouth, unaware of her lips puckering in response. Slowly, he let the hand drop. "Yes, I made a couple passes, but none of that was, y'know, serious. I'm sorry if you thought it was."

The admission was a cold bucket of water to Amanda's head, dousing any hope she might've had left. It was as she'd suspected. Stetson couldn't offer her anything steady or stable. Oh sure, he wanted her, but only when it was convenient for him, and never the parts that mattered. She felt foolish beneath her years.

"In that case I'd better get back to my boys. And, uh, you'll probably be needing this too. Real gold, and all."

She tugged her ring from her finger and pressed the cool metal into his palm. He twisted it this way and that, almost admiring it in the sun. The expression on his face was indecipherable.

"I guess the honeymoon is over." He bounced the ring once before snatching it mid-air. "I'll be seeing you through the agency, maybe," he drifted off, waffling. "Then again maybe I won't."

With that, Lee pivoted on his heel and strolled towards his Porsche. Amanda watched him go with more than a little regret. Even from behind, he was a looker. Mid-step, he stopped to shoot a smile over his shoulder.

"You know what the whole problem with our marriage was?"

Expectantly, Amanda slanted forward and presented an ear in his direction. Lee's mouth widened into a cocky grin.

"It just wasn't very exciting."

/

"Are you calling Dean, dear?"

"Yes Mother," Amanda said, lifting the phone from its cradle. "I want to catch him before it gets much later."

The King household was winding down for the night. The sidewalks were blanketed in darkness and most of the lights were dimmed. Everyone was garbed for comfort, housecoats over pajamas, and the boys were grabbing a final glass of milk before bed.

"Hm." Dotty nodded her approval. "When you took so long getting home last night he got quite concerned. I mean, he tried to pretend that he wasn't, but I could detect that little quiver, that vaguely strangled quality in his voice."

In a gesture that was more good-natured than anything, Amanda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Dotty enjoyed exaggerating these things, and all Amanda could do was indulge her, even if the other woman's cheeriness was an acute contrast to her current mood.

"Mo-ther."

Before anything more could be said, Phillip and Jamie blazed a path through the den, distributing hugs wherever they went. Amanda made sure to give them each an extra squeeze. The events of the past few days had put into perspective just how lucky she was to have them. Squirming free, they mounted the staircase with shouts of, "Night Mom! Goodnight Grandma!"

"Goodnight loves!" Dotty called after them before turning back to her daughter. There was a knowing quality in her eyes that made Amanda strangely self-conscious.

"All I'm saying is that concern is an important quality. That and dependability. The trouble with some people is they vanish from your life just as quickly as they came. With some men you can have an absolutely thrilling evening and there's no guarantee that you're ever going to see them again. Y'know what I mean?"

The platitude struck home. In her mind's eye Amanda saw the image of a dashing, debonair spy with a superiority complex. She scoffed to herself.

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

Dean McGuire was dependable, he was patient, he was predictable. You could practically set a clock by him. He was boring. On the other hand, Lee Stetson was exciting. From the moment their eyes met at Union Station, she was struck by his charisma.

But Lee couldn't give her all that she needed, or all that her family deserved. Keeping the spy stuff separate from her family life was enough of a chore without a chronic bachelor mucking up the works.

Grimacing, Amanda brought the phone back to her ear and began to punch in Dean's number. It was a path well-trod by her fingers, known not only by heart, but my muscle memory. With every digit she reminded herself that this was the right thing to do. None of this would be easy, but it was necessary, like ripping off a band-aid.

After a few rings she got his answering machine. The familiar inflections wafting through the speaker almost robbed her of her courage. Ignoring her mother's curious glances, she left a message that was both perfunctory and prudent.

"It's me, Amanda. We need to talk, in person. Tomorrow morning, after the boys are at school. Give me a call back when you can. It's, um, it's important."

With an echoing click, the handset fit back into place.