Sept 10, 2001
In Vino Veritas (Or So They Say)
by Rankamateur
Scarecrow and Mrs. King are the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Enterprises Ltd. I have borrowed them again, and return them, no worse for wear.
Rating G
AU - time frame - late third season
Will 'being under the influence' cause Lee to reveal his true feelings?
(Dubbei is made up - it's not a misspelling of Dubai)
__________________________________________________________________
Lee struggled to keep his wits about him, at least enough so that he could hear what the men were saying...
He knew, without opening his eyes, that he was in a dingy room, sitting at a small, square table with a light fixture hanging over it--a cheap shade and a single, glaring bulb. It looked like a prop out some B-grade gangster movie, he had thought when he first saw it.
What were the two men talking about . . . one of them said something to the effect that the beatings hadn't worked and now the drugs hadn't worked.
'Good,' Lee thought, 'that means I haven't given anything away.'
He had kept secret the facts he knew about what the American response might be to a coup d'tat in Dubbei, followed by an oil embargo, imposed by a new, radical leftist government. Since Dubbei was one of the United States' main sources of imported oil, the practical effects of such a scenario could be disastrous. Lee had represented The Agency on a team of intelligence specialists which had provided input to the committee charged with drawing up proposals for exactly what the U.S. Government and the U.S. military could and would do in such a case.
Lee's captors, Paul and Marcus were the two names Lee had heard them use, knew some people who would pay a great deal of money for this kind of information. Paul had a contact at the State Department who had seen Lee there, attending briefing sessions for the Dubbei Committee. Paul had made it worth the man's while to get a description of Lee's car and his license plate number. With that information, tracking him down and following him to this neighborhood had been fairly easy.
The two men pulled Lee to his feet and forced him to walk back to the small, dark room where he had been held for the last--was it two days or three--he wasn't sure anymore. They shoved him down on the small bed and shackled him.
___________________________________________________________________
Amanda was beside herself with worry. Lee had been missing for 72 hours and she berated herself once again for not being with him--not being there to watch his tail. But she had been ill, too ill to go along on what should have been a simple assignment. Lee was supposed to meet a contact and receive some information--that was all. However, he never arrived at the meeting place. The contact had left a message to that effect, and then, he had disappeared too. No Lee, no contact, no clues.
She vaguely remembered something Lee had said the last time they had spoken on the phone, just before he had gone to meet the contact, something about . . . being reminded of finding Raul.
Amanda remembered that case very well. Raul and Scotty had been held prisoner in a sub-basement of an old warehouse near the river.
That's where she would start looking, in the warehouse district along the river. It was a million-to-one shot, but it was all she had and at least it was better than sitting at her desk, feeling helpless.
___________________________________________________________________
After cruising the area for hours, Amanda spotted a car parked just ahead. She slowed her vehicle to a crawl and held her breath. Then she could see the car clearly--a silver Corvette and it had the right license plate number. It WAS Lee's car. Of course, he wouldn't be parked right in front of the building where he was being held. In fact, whoever grabbed him might not have stayed anywhere near here. They could be . . . almost anywhere. In DC, in Virginia or in Maryland, for that matter. Amanda's heart sank. Maybe finding his car wasn't going to bring her any closer to finding Lee.
However, it was all she had. Taking note of the addresses of the buildings in a five block radius of where the 'vette was parked, Amanda headed back to the Agency to do some checking on the ownership of these buildings and just what they were being used for at the present time.
_________________________________________________________________
Paul and Marcus were a couple of old hands at the "information broker" business. They played rough and usually got the job done--whatever they were after--they got what they wanted. Subtlety was not their strong point. Paul was the older and more experienced of the two. He was heavy set with dark complexion, hair and eyes. The other, Marcus, was younger and meaner. He really enjoyed hurting people. And he was sure that he had hurt Stetson, really hurt him, but to no avail.
After some discussion, they had decided on a new tack. If beatings and drugs didn't do it, they'd try something very simple--they'd get Lee drunk, hopefully drunk enough to talk. Agents were trained to resist torture and truth drugs but how many of them had shot off their mouths in a bar after having too much to drink. If Zebillium didn't work, maybe a cheap brand of Scotch would.
__________________________________________________________________
Amanda's research was tedious and time consuming but there was one small ray of hope. She found that one of the buildings, located about 2 blocks from were Lee's car was parked, had been empty for the last six months. It was owned by a company--which was owned by another company--which was owned by another company-- and so on, for another four layers. The last company she could find was based in the Middle East. It was a holding company, which was believed to have ties to the Soviet-block intelligence community.
She decided to show Mr. Melrose all the information she had come up with so far.
"Amanda, I'm sorry but this just isn't enough. We can't ask for a search warrant. We don't have probable cause here - just because an empty building is owned by a subsidiary of a subsidiary."
"But, Sir..."
"OK, look, I'm just as worried about Lee as you are and I've got people out looking for him. But I've got to follow the rules here and we'll all have to try and be patient."
"Sir, I feel as though this is partly my fault--I wasn't there to back him up."
"You can't blame yourself. You were ill--a bad case of the flu. Nobody is blaming you for not being available under those circumstances, least of all Lee. Besides, it was a just routine thing. He really shouldn't have needed backup anyway. Please, go home and try and get some rest. I'll call you the minute I hear anything, anything at all."
Billy decided to leave Lee's car where it was and assign an agent to watch it, just in case. 'Interesting,' he thought, 'of all the agents out looking, it took Amanda to find Lee's car.'
__________________________________________________________
Cheap Scotch didn't work. It wasn't likely that an expensive Scotch would have worked either. Lee just wouldn't talk.
That wasn't exactly accurate. He wouldn't talk about the Dubbei Committee Report. Otherwise, they couldn't shut him up. He recited poetry and lines from Shakespeare's plays. He hummed. He seemed to know the words to the Fight Songs of an infinite number of universities. Toward the end, he babbled about someone named "Amanna"--her beautiful eyes, her wonderful laugh. Whoever this "Amanna" was, obviously, he was crazy about her.
'Too bad he'll never see her again,' Paul thought.
When Lee finally passed out, they carried him back to the room, threw him on the bed, restored the restraints, just in case, and left.
___________________________________________________________
Amanda was not going to go home. If The Agency couldn't do anything officially, then she would do something--unofficially.
Arriving in the area, Amanda parked about a block from the empty warehouse she intended to search. Walking down the alley behind the building she located a door that looked as though it hadn't been opened in at least six months. Pulling a lock-pick set from the pocket of her jeans, she selected a pick and began to work on the door. In just a few minutes she was inside. The place was big, dusty and dark, except for a little bit of light coming in through a dirty window, high up on one wall. Between that and the light from her Junior Trail Blazer's flashlight, she managed to find a stairwell leading to a lower floor. There, what looked like a supply closet turned out to have another set of stairs going down to another level. Descending the stairs, she could see light coming from under a door further down the corridor. There was a second door with almost no light showing. She opened it slowly and, in the faint glow which seemed to come from one of those dim little bulbs used in night-lights, she could see Lee, lying on a bed, one wrist handcuffed to the bed post, seemingly asleep. Leaning over, Amanda shook Lee, gently, trying to wake him without frightening him. Finally, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"AMANNA!" he said, almost at the top of his lungs.
Amanda stepped back. The smell of cheap liquor on his breath and on his clothing was overwhelming.
It soon became apparent that Lee was roaring drunk.
Amanda could hear muffled voices down the hall. No doubt the voices of Lee's abductors. 'I've got to keep him quiet!'
"Amanna, I'm SO glad yer here. I was dreamin' that you were here and you'd rescue me. I've been waitin' and waitin' for ya."
His voice was so loud that she feared whoever was outside in the hallway would hear and come to investigate.
"Please, Lee," she said softly, "keep your voice down. If fact don't talk at all. Those bad guys are right outside."
"But, Amanna, I gotta talk to you."
"Lee, please," she whispered, her lips touching his ear.
"That TICKLES."
Amanda put her fingers on Lee's mouth, hoping that would keep him quiet. It worked for the few seconds it took him to kiss each of her fingertips. But only five fingers - it didn't take that long.
"AMANNA, I . . . "
Amanda did the only thing she could think of to shut Lee up. She kissed him. Gently but firmly. He was quiet . . . until she took her mouth from his . . . then
"AMA . . . "
She kissed him again and kept kissing him until she could no longer hear the voices in the hall. She wondered briefly if she was just taking advantage of the situation or if this might be considered good tactics. She couldn't recall anything in any of the Agency Training Manuals that covered this exact situation.
But those voices had said something about . . . 'As soon as he wakes up we'll get him outta here and dump his body in the Potomac. But I'm NOT carrying him. He's too big. We wait till he can walk!'
There was no doubt that she had to keep Lee quiet, by any means at her disposal.
Amanda pulled the lock-picks from her pocket and soon had removed the cuffs from Lee's wrist.
"Can you get up and walk?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because my legs are tied."
Looking towards the foot of the bed, she realized that in fact his legs were bound with rope. Pulling out her Swiss Army knife, she cut the rope and freed his legs.
"OK, now can you get up and walk?"
He tried but was too dizzy and unsteady to stand.
"Amanna, I just want to lie down here and rest for a little bit longer. Amanna, you know what?"
"No, what Lee."
"It's...it's a secret."
"OK, that's fine. You can keep your secret but you really need to think about trying to get up so we can get out of here. Whoever grabbed you may come back anytime."
"Paul and Marcus."
"Paul and Marcus are the ones who took you prisoner?"
"Yup. They wanted information, secret information but I didn't give it to 'em--didn't tell 'em anythin'. Amanna, guess what."
"What, Lee."
"I love you. That's *my* secret. Do you love me?"
Amanda thought for a long moment. 'He's drunk as a lord. Is this just the liquor talking or is it really "in vino veritas"? I wish I could be sure . . . '
"Amada, please, answer me. Do you love me too? I really wanna know . . . I juss--I hope you do."
"Yes, I do. I love you Lee, very much."
"Aww, I'm so glad. We can't tell anybody though, gotta be our secret, 'cause they might split us up. Or you might juss leave . . . leave me."
"It can be our secret sweetheart, that's fine."
'Oh oh,' she thought.
That term of endearment had just slipped out. She hoped it wasn't a mistake. Well, it was or wasn't a mistake, depending on your point of view. He pulled her to him and started kissing her, hard.
Drunk or sober, Lee was strong, a lot stronger than Amanda, and in a twinkling of an eye, he had partly lifted, partly dragged her over him so that she was now lying on the bed, between Lee and the wall, while he continued to kiss her.
Struggling to extricate herself from Lee's ardent, if somewhat awkward, embrace, as well as to regain her breath and her composure, Amanda finally was able to speak.
"Lee, please, this is wonderful, but those bad guys, Paul and Marcus, they're still around. We've *got* to get out of here. Can you sit up and then stand up? I can help you and we can get outta here and go to the car and talk about...things. OK?"
"OK."
Lee really didn't want to stop. Lying there and kissing Amanda, his Amanda, was something he had wanted to do, but never had thought the time was right before, not until now. Now it seemed so right. The most natural thing in the world. But, if Amanda said he had to stop because they had to leave, because his Amanda might be in danger, then he would have to stop.
He struggled to sit up and, with Amanda's help, was able to get up on his feet.
He was still unsteady from the effects of the alcohol but they managed to get to the door, open it and start down the hall towards the first set of stairs. It was quiet. Apparently Paul and Marcus had left.
Half pushing and half pulling, she managed to get Lee up both flights of stairs and out of the building.
They made the block-long walk to her car with Lee's arm around her shoulders, leaning heavily on her, while Amanda had her arm securely around his waist.
After helping Lee into the passenger's side, Amanda got in the driver's seat, started the car and, with a great sigh of relief, drove away. As soon as they were a respectable distance from the warehouse district, she stopped at a gas station and called Billy, quickly filling him in on the details of Lee's imprisonment and their escape.
"Oh, excellent Amanda! I'll send a team down to secure the building and wait for ahh, Paul and Marcos.."
"Marcus," Amanda corrected. "Sir, can you have someone pick up Lee's car and take it to the Agency or maybe to his home"
"Right, Marcus. Anyway, you can bring Lee back here and we'll see if he needs medical attention or just time to sober up. And I will have his car taken care of. Great work, Amanda."
"Thank you, sir."
________________________________________________________
The Agency doctors gave Lee a thorough physical and did blood tests, which showed no evidence of truth serum but did reveal that he still had a blood alcohol level that was twice the legal limit!
"Good grief," Dr. Kelford observed. "It's a wonder he could stand up, let along climb stairs and walk a block. Mrs. King, I think you should take him home. He's going to have the mother-of-all-hang-overs and there's nothing much to do except sleep though it."
"I'll will. I'll take him home right now and see that he gets some sleep. Com'on Lee, let's get going."
"Oh, Mrs. King," Dr. Kelford touched a practiced thumb and forefinger to an area near Amanda's mouth. "Would you like something for that whisker burn, I mean umm, for that rash?"
Amanda's already slightly reddened cheeks turned a color close to scarlet.
"No thanks." she mumbled.
________________________________________________________
Amanda managed to get Lee to the elevator and then down the hall to his apartment. After a few minutes of struggling with the keys, he finally handed them over so Amanda could unlock the door.
"Lee, do you want to take a shower and clean up a bit or would you rather go right to bed?"
"Umm, . . . think I'd like a shower and maybe a shave," he answered, rubbing his hand across almost four days worth of stubble.
"Shave . . . are you sure you're up to handling a razor?"
"Yeah, don't worry. It's 'lectric. I won't cut myself."
After the shave and shower, Lee slipped into some clean boxers and put on his robe and slippers. He went back into the living room, hoping, and yes, Amanda was still there.
"Well, you look 100 percent better. OK, the coffee is all set up--just plug it in when you're ready, but for now, you can march back into that bedroom and get some sleep."
"Is that an order?" he grinned.
"Yep. Sleep well." With that, Amanda started toward the door.
"Amanda. Thank you, for rescuing me, for everything."
"Hey, you'd do the same for me--you *have*--more than once. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye."
___________________________________________________________________________________
TAG
Lee turned and walked toward his bedroom. 'Did I really tell her I loved her? Did she really say that she loved me? I wish I could be sure if what I remember is real or was it just the booze . . . .' He shook his head. 'Well, someday I *will* tell her and I'll know for sure it really happened.'
Amanda started the car and headed off towards Arlington and Maplewood Drive. 'He said he loved me but . . . did he mean it? Will he remember what he said? Oh my gosh, will he remember what *I* said. Guess I'll just have to wait and see . .
The End
In Vino Veritas (Or So They Say)
by Rankamateur
Scarecrow and Mrs. King are the property of Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Enterprises Ltd. I have borrowed them again, and return them, no worse for wear.
Rating G
AU - time frame - late third season
Will 'being under the influence' cause Lee to reveal his true feelings?
(Dubbei is made up - it's not a misspelling of Dubai)
__________________________________________________________________
Lee struggled to keep his wits about him, at least enough so that he could hear what the men were saying...
He knew, without opening his eyes, that he was in a dingy room, sitting at a small, square table with a light fixture hanging over it--a cheap shade and a single, glaring bulb. It looked like a prop out some B-grade gangster movie, he had thought when he first saw it.
What were the two men talking about . . . one of them said something to the effect that the beatings hadn't worked and now the drugs hadn't worked.
'Good,' Lee thought, 'that means I haven't given anything away.'
He had kept secret the facts he knew about what the American response might be to a coup d'tat in Dubbei, followed by an oil embargo, imposed by a new, radical leftist government. Since Dubbei was one of the United States' main sources of imported oil, the practical effects of such a scenario could be disastrous. Lee had represented The Agency on a team of intelligence specialists which had provided input to the committee charged with drawing up proposals for exactly what the U.S. Government and the U.S. military could and would do in such a case.
Lee's captors, Paul and Marcus were the two names Lee had heard them use, knew some people who would pay a great deal of money for this kind of information. Paul had a contact at the State Department who had seen Lee there, attending briefing sessions for the Dubbei Committee. Paul had made it worth the man's while to get a description of Lee's car and his license plate number. With that information, tracking him down and following him to this neighborhood had been fairly easy.
The two men pulled Lee to his feet and forced him to walk back to the small, dark room where he had been held for the last--was it two days or three--he wasn't sure anymore. They shoved him down on the small bed and shackled him.
___________________________________________________________________
Amanda was beside herself with worry. Lee had been missing for 72 hours and she berated herself once again for not being with him--not being there to watch his tail. But she had been ill, too ill to go along on what should have been a simple assignment. Lee was supposed to meet a contact and receive some information--that was all. However, he never arrived at the meeting place. The contact had left a message to that effect, and then, he had disappeared too. No Lee, no contact, no clues.
She vaguely remembered something Lee had said the last time they had spoken on the phone, just before he had gone to meet the contact, something about . . . being reminded of finding Raul.
Amanda remembered that case very well. Raul and Scotty had been held prisoner in a sub-basement of an old warehouse near the river.
That's where she would start looking, in the warehouse district along the river. It was a million-to-one shot, but it was all she had and at least it was better than sitting at her desk, feeling helpless.
___________________________________________________________________
After cruising the area for hours, Amanda spotted a car parked just ahead. She slowed her vehicle to a crawl and held her breath. Then she could see the car clearly--a silver Corvette and it had the right license plate number. It WAS Lee's car. Of course, he wouldn't be parked right in front of the building where he was being held. In fact, whoever grabbed him might not have stayed anywhere near here. They could be . . . almost anywhere. In DC, in Virginia or in Maryland, for that matter. Amanda's heart sank. Maybe finding his car wasn't going to bring her any closer to finding Lee.
However, it was all she had. Taking note of the addresses of the buildings in a five block radius of where the 'vette was parked, Amanda headed back to the Agency to do some checking on the ownership of these buildings and just what they were being used for at the present time.
_________________________________________________________________
Paul and Marcus were a couple of old hands at the "information broker" business. They played rough and usually got the job done--whatever they were after--they got what they wanted. Subtlety was not their strong point. Paul was the older and more experienced of the two. He was heavy set with dark complexion, hair and eyes. The other, Marcus, was younger and meaner. He really enjoyed hurting people. And he was sure that he had hurt Stetson, really hurt him, but to no avail.
After some discussion, they had decided on a new tack. If beatings and drugs didn't do it, they'd try something very simple--they'd get Lee drunk, hopefully drunk enough to talk. Agents were trained to resist torture and truth drugs but how many of them had shot off their mouths in a bar after having too much to drink. If Zebillium didn't work, maybe a cheap brand of Scotch would.
__________________________________________________________________
Amanda's research was tedious and time consuming but there was one small ray of hope. She found that one of the buildings, located about 2 blocks from were Lee's car was parked, had been empty for the last six months. It was owned by a company--which was owned by another company--which was owned by another company-- and so on, for another four layers. The last company she could find was based in the Middle East. It was a holding company, which was believed to have ties to the Soviet-block intelligence community.
She decided to show Mr. Melrose all the information she had come up with so far.
"Amanda, I'm sorry but this just isn't enough. We can't ask for a search warrant. We don't have probable cause here - just because an empty building is owned by a subsidiary of a subsidiary."
"But, Sir..."
"OK, look, I'm just as worried about Lee as you are and I've got people out looking for him. But I've got to follow the rules here and we'll all have to try and be patient."
"Sir, I feel as though this is partly my fault--I wasn't there to back him up."
"You can't blame yourself. You were ill--a bad case of the flu. Nobody is blaming you for not being available under those circumstances, least of all Lee. Besides, it was a just routine thing. He really shouldn't have needed backup anyway. Please, go home and try and get some rest. I'll call you the minute I hear anything, anything at all."
Billy decided to leave Lee's car where it was and assign an agent to watch it, just in case. 'Interesting,' he thought, 'of all the agents out looking, it took Amanda to find Lee's car.'
__________________________________________________________
Cheap Scotch didn't work. It wasn't likely that an expensive Scotch would have worked either. Lee just wouldn't talk.
That wasn't exactly accurate. He wouldn't talk about the Dubbei Committee Report. Otherwise, they couldn't shut him up. He recited poetry and lines from Shakespeare's plays. He hummed. He seemed to know the words to the Fight Songs of an infinite number of universities. Toward the end, he babbled about someone named "Amanna"--her beautiful eyes, her wonderful laugh. Whoever this "Amanna" was, obviously, he was crazy about her.
'Too bad he'll never see her again,' Paul thought.
When Lee finally passed out, they carried him back to the room, threw him on the bed, restored the restraints, just in case, and left.
___________________________________________________________
Amanda was not going to go home. If The Agency couldn't do anything officially, then she would do something--unofficially.
Arriving in the area, Amanda parked about a block from the empty warehouse she intended to search. Walking down the alley behind the building she located a door that looked as though it hadn't been opened in at least six months. Pulling a lock-pick set from the pocket of her jeans, she selected a pick and began to work on the door. In just a few minutes she was inside. The place was big, dusty and dark, except for a little bit of light coming in through a dirty window, high up on one wall. Between that and the light from her Junior Trail Blazer's flashlight, she managed to find a stairwell leading to a lower floor. There, what looked like a supply closet turned out to have another set of stairs going down to another level. Descending the stairs, she could see light coming from under a door further down the corridor. There was a second door with almost no light showing. She opened it slowly and, in the faint glow which seemed to come from one of those dim little bulbs used in night-lights, she could see Lee, lying on a bed, one wrist handcuffed to the bed post, seemingly asleep. Leaning over, Amanda shook Lee, gently, trying to wake him without frightening him. Finally, slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"AMANNA!" he said, almost at the top of his lungs.
Amanda stepped back. The smell of cheap liquor on his breath and on his clothing was overwhelming.
It soon became apparent that Lee was roaring drunk.
Amanda could hear muffled voices down the hall. No doubt the voices of Lee's abductors. 'I've got to keep him quiet!'
"Amanna, I'm SO glad yer here. I was dreamin' that you were here and you'd rescue me. I've been waitin' and waitin' for ya."
His voice was so loud that she feared whoever was outside in the hallway would hear and come to investigate.
"Please, Lee," she said softly, "keep your voice down. If fact don't talk at all. Those bad guys are right outside."
"But, Amanna, I gotta talk to you."
"Lee, please," she whispered, her lips touching his ear.
"That TICKLES."
Amanda put her fingers on Lee's mouth, hoping that would keep him quiet. It worked for the few seconds it took him to kiss each of her fingertips. But only five fingers - it didn't take that long.
"AMANNA, I . . . "
Amanda did the only thing she could think of to shut Lee up. She kissed him. Gently but firmly. He was quiet . . . until she took her mouth from his . . . then
"AMA . . . "
She kissed him again and kept kissing him until she could no longer hear the voices in the hall. She wondered briefly if she was just taking advantage of the situation or if this might be considered good tactics. She couldn't recall anything in any of the Agency Training Manuals that covered this exact situation.
But those voices had said something about . . . 'As soon as he wakes up we'll get him outta here and dump his body in the Potomac. But I'm NOT carrying him. He's too big. We wait till he can walk!'
There was no doubt that she had to keep Lee quiet, by any means at her disposal.
Amanda pulled the lock-picks from her pocket and soon had removed the cuffs from Lee's wrist.
"Can you get up and walk?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because my legs are tied."
Looking towards the foot of the bed, she realized that in fact his legs were bound with rope. Pulling out her Swiss Army knife, she cut the rope and freed his legs.
"OK, now can you get up and walk?"
He tried but was too dizzy and unsteady to stand.
"Amanna, I just want to lie down here and rest for a little bit longer. Amanna, you know what?"
"No, what Lee."
"It's...it's a secret."
"OK, that's fine. You can keep your secret but you really need to think about trying to get up so we can get out of here. Whoever grabbed you may come back anytime."
"Paul and Marcus."
"Paul and Marcus are the ones who took you prisoner?"
"Yup. They wanted information, secret information but I didn't give it to 'em--didn't tell 'em anythin'. Amanna, guess what."
"What, Lee."
"I love you. That's *my* secret. Do you love me?"
Amanda thought for a long moment. 'He's drunk as a lord. Is this just the liquor talking or is it really "in vino veritas"? I wish I could be sure . . . '
"Amada, please, answer me. Do you love me too? I really wanna know . . . I juss--I hope you do."
"Yes, I do. I love you Lee, very much."
"Aww, I'm so glad. We can't tell anybody though, gotta be our secret, 'cause they might split us up. Or you might juss leave . . . leave me."
"It can be our secret sweetheart, that's fine."
'Oh oh,' she thought.
That term of endearment had just slipped out. She hoped it wasn't a mistake. Well, it was or wasn't a mistake, depending on your point of view. He pulled her to him and started kissing her, hard.
Drunk or sober, Lee was strong, a lot stronger than Amanda, and in a twinkling of an eye, he had partly lifted, partly dragged her over him so that she was now lying on the bed, between Lee and the wall, while he continued to kiss her.
Struggling to extricate herself from Lee's ardent, if somewhat awkward, embrace, as well as to regain her breath and her composure, Amanda finally was able to speak.
"Lee, please, this is wonderful, but those bad guys, Paul and Marcus, they're still around. We've *got* to get out of here. Can you sit up and then stand up? I can help you and we can get outta here and go to the car and talk about...things. OK?"
"OK."
Lee really didn't want to stop. Lying there and kissing Amanda, his Amanda, was something he had wanted to do, but never had thought the time was right before, not until now. Now it seemed so right. The most natural thing in the world. But, if Amanda said he had to stop because they had to leave, because his Amanda might be in danger, then he would have to stop.
He struggled to sit up and, with Amanda's help, was able to get up on his feet.
He was still unsteady from the effects of the alcohol but they managed to get to the door, open it and start down the hall towards the first set of stairs. It was quiet. Apparently Paul and Marcus had left.
Half pushing and half pulling, she managed to get Lee up both flights of stairs and out of the building.
They made the block-long walk to her car with Lee's arm around her shoulders, leaning heavily on her, while Amanda had her arm securely around his waist.
After helping Lee into the passenger's side, Amanda got in the driver's seat, started the car and, with a great sigh of relief, drove away. As soon as they were a respectable distance from the warehouse district, she stopped at a gas station and called Billy, quickly filling him in on the details of Lee's imprisonment and their escape.
"Oh, excellent Amanda! I'll send a team down to secure the building and wait for ahh, Paul and Marcos.."
"Marcus," Amanda corrected. "Sir, can you have someone pick up Lee's car and take it to the Agency or maybe to his home"
"Right, Marcus. Anyway, you can bring Lee back here and we'll see if he needs medical attention or just time to sober up. And I will have his car taken care of. Great work, Amanda."
"Thank you, sir."
________________________________________________________
The Agency doctors gave Lee a thorough physical and did blood tests, which showed no evidence of truth serum but did reveal that he still had a blood alcohol level that was twice the legal limit!
"Good grief," Dr. Kelford observed. "It's a wonder he could stand up, let along climb stairs and walk a block. Mrs. King, I think you should take him home. He's going to have the mother-of-all-hang-overs and there's nothing much to do except sleep though it."
"I'll will. I'll take him home right now and see that he gets some sleep. Com'on Lee, let's get going."
"Oh, Mrs. King," Dr. Kelford touched a practiced thumb and forefinger to an area near Amanda's mouth. "Would you like something for that whisker burn, I mean umm, for that rash?"
Amanda's already slightly reddened cheeks turned a color close to scarlet.
"No thanks." she mumbled.
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Amanda managed to get Lee to the elevator and then down the hall to his apartment. After a few minutes of struggling with the keys, he finally handed them over so Amanda could unlock the door.
"Lee, do you want to take a shower and clean up a bit or would you rather go right to bed?"
"Umm, . . . think I'd like a shower and maybe a shave," he answered, rubbing his hand across almost four days worth of stubble.
"Shave . . . are you sure you're up to handling a razor?"
"Yeah, don't worry. It's 'lectric. I won't cut myself."
After the shave and shower, Lee slipped into some clean boxers and put on his robe and slippers. He went back into the living room, hoping, and yes, Amanda was still there.
"Well, you look 100 percent better. OK, the coffee is all set up--just plug it in when you're ready, but for now, you can march back into that bedroom and get some sleep."
"Is that an order?" he grinned.
"Yep. Sleep well." With that, Amanda started toward the door.
"Amanda. Thank you, for rescuing me, for everything."
"Hey, you'd do the same for me--you *have*--more than once. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye."
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TAG
Lee turned and walked toward his bedroom. 'Did I really tell her I loved her? Did she really say that she loved me? I wish I could be sure if what I remember is real or was it just the booze . . . .' He shook his head. 'Well, someday I *will* tell her and I'll know for sure it really happened.'
Amanda started the car and headed off towards Arlington and Maplewood Drive. 'He said he loved me but . . . did he mean it? Will he remember what he said? Oh my gosh, will he remember what *I* said. Guess I'll just have to wait and see . .
The End