Saturday

Saturday

It was nearly 9 o'clock the next morning before he emerged again. Amanda sat quietly in a chair near the window, reading a newspaper. He crossed the room to stand only a few feet away from her, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Good morning, Amanda," he ventured uncertainly, not sure what sort of response he might receive. "Have you been up long?"

Turning a page, she answered without looking up. "Not too long. I thought I'd try to catch up on the outside world while I waited for breakfast . . ."

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," she called out as she folded the paper and laid it on a nearby table. "I ordered coffee and toast for you," she told Lee, finally looking at him for the first time since the previous night. The chill in the air ran straight down his spine when he saw the distance in her eyes.

The agent who entered the room was masked, gowned, and gloved, but his demeanor was totally different from that of the man they'd seen the night before. "Good morning, Mr. Stetson, Mrs. King. This sure smells good – you'd better eat up while it's hot."

"You're very cheerful this morning, Mr. . . ." Amanda began.

"Hutchins," he supplied, looking at her, puzzled, for a second before he broke into a grin that was visible even through the mask. "That's right! Sweeney was on duty last night, wasn't he?" Agent Hutchins chuckled to himself. "He can leave quite an impression if you don't know what to expect. He suspects the worst in everything, and he has a special 'thing' about germs. No one else thought that he'd volunteer for this assignment, but I wasn't surprised to see his name on the list."

Lee interrupted. "Why not? He looked like he'd rather be just about anywhere else on the face of the earth than in this room with us."

"Most of us on this assignment are just freshman agents," Hutchins answered, crossing the room to set the trays with their breakfast on the table, "like me and Sweeney. This early in our careers, we never expected to have the opportunity to work an assignment involving Scarecrow. We jumped at the chance --" He stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying, and looked down at his shoes. "We, uh, we just never expected that it would be for something like this."

After a moment made longer by the abrupt stillness, he lifted his head and met Lee's eyes steadily. "But I've heard too many stories about you to believe that this will turn out any way but all right for you, Mr. Stetson, and for Mrs. King, too." He glanced toward Amanda, then turned back to Lee before continuing.

"Well, uh . . . I guess I'd better go on and let you two enjoy your breakfast." He paused at the door. "I don't think Sweeney will have any objections if I volunteer to bring your meals in to you," the young agent added with a wink. "And you just let me know if you need anything, okay?" He slipped through the door and quietly pulled it shut behind him.

With Hutchins' exit, the room became quiet again. Amanda sat at the table, nibbling on a blueberry muffin. Lee watched her, wondering if she was going to let last night's incident pass without comment. She seemed ready to just forget about the whole thing, which should have been fine with him. But, for reasons he seemed unable to identify, it wasn't. He glanced at Amanda uneasily. She was looking out the window, and he was relieved not to have to meet her eyes. He wished that she'd just say something. If she were to lash out at him, to react in some way other than silence, he could find a way to respond, but the longer she ignored him, the more uncomfortable he became.

She finished breakfast, then returned to her chair and her newspaper, leaving him alone at the table. He stared at the three slices of toast lying untouched on his plate.

"I should never have let you anywhere near Mbuto. You shouldn't be here, waiting for Doc Kelford to say when and if you can go home."

"But I am here, Lee." Amanda's soft reply made him realize that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "If there's a chance that either one of us could pass on whatever Mr. Mbuto has to other people . . ." She paused, and he knew she was thinking of her family. "You were right last night. If I hadn't tried to play nurse . . ." She hesitated, frustration written across her features. "But don't you see that I just couldn't let him suffer like that without at least trying to help him?"

"Amanda . . . about last night . . ." She looked at him uncertainly as he plunged into the Stetson version of an apology. "Yeah, I was mad at you. But I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did. It's your nature to take care of people. If you hadn't tried to help Mbuto, I think I'd have been even more worried about you than I am now."

"Lee, I --" She stood and started to take a step towards him.

"No." He cut her off, gently but firmly, with an upheld hand. "Please don't say anything. Just me finish." He looked at her intently, his eyes entreating her, until, with a slight nod, she acquiesced and settled back into the chair.

"I couldn't have expected you to react any differently," he reiterated. "I just wish you hadn't been in that position in the first place."

He hesitated, looking across to her. "Do you remember that I had told you we'd do something special after we'd delivered the security codes?"

She nodded her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

"We were invited to an Embassy ball that last night in Rome. The biggest risk you should have faced was that I'd have kept you out dancing all night." She cocked her head skeptically, and he looked down at the floor, shaking his head ruefully. "I thought you would've had fun. I was going to tell you about it Wednesday morning, so that I'd have time to take you shopping for a gown." He snuck a glance at her from beneath his lowered lashes and was relieved to see the warmth and acceptance in her eyes. Encouraged, he continued. "I know that I can be, well, a little rough on you, a lot more often than I like to think about, and I thought that the ball would be . . . well, sorta like a way to make it up to you." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But then Billy called, and we had to leave Wednesday evening instead of Thursday afternoon like we were supposed to."

He paused again, clenching his jaw so tightly that every muscle was clearly defined. "At least you know now why I didn't want you to have to take the Air Force transport back to DC. Under the best of circumstances, they're pretty rough. And this time, with Mbuto . . . I should have insisted that you stay in Rome the extra day, but I didn't. And now, here we are . . .." He stood, jammed his hands into his pockets, and started to move about the small space between the table and her chair beside the window, momentarily distracted. One of the reasons he'd not objected more to her coming with him was that he hadn't wanted to leave without her, that he'd wanted her company. How was it that he could simultaneously want to her to be close, even while he was thinking of ways to keep her at a distance? That was a question that was guaranteed to bring on a headache.

After a short pause, he continued. "Kelford thinks this might be one of those new viruses from Africa. Just how the hell do I fight something I can't even see?" He stopped, his back to her, and sighed heavily. "I should have had you wait and take the commercial flight back the next day."

Amanda rose and put her hand on his shoulder. "We each had to do what we thought was best. Mr. Melrose wanted me to go with you and Mr. Mbuto." She walked around to face him. "I know you wanted do the escort duty alone, but that wasn't your decision to make. I guess I could've asked to get out of it, but I didn't; I wanted to come with you. I'm a grown woman, and I take responsibility for the choices that I make," she paused and looked directly into his eyes, "even when things don't work out quite the way I'd hoped."

She smiled at him gently. Lee recognized the trace of regret that touched her eyes, but there was more – some almost-hidden emotion that his mind was unwilling or unable to identify. For a split second, he thought that there was something else she wanted to say, but then she turned her face away.

He thought it best to let the matter drop, at least for the time being. He wasn't at all sure he was ready to face whatever it was that he'd seen in her eyes. But he had another, totally unrelated, concern. "Amanda," he said, "what do we do now?"

She looked back at him with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said," he replied, a little surprised to hear uncertainty coloring his voice despite his best efforts to control it. "What are we going to do? We spend lots of time together, Amanda, but we're usually working, or talking about work. There's always something to do – figuring out a case, tracking down a KGB agent, defusing a bomb, getting you out of trou--"

He caught the look in her eye and realized that he had, once again, spoken without thinking first. Not wanting to head back into dangerous territory, he backtracked slightly. "We're going to be cooped up together for at least the next couple of days." He paused and looked back at her with a concerned frown. "I'll go crazy if I have to just sit around here and do nothing. So what are we going to do?"

"I suppose," she said, her lack of comprehension clear in her face, "that we'll just spend a normal weekend together."

"That's just it," he blurted out. "The last time I had a free weekend, I went to St. Croix. Somehow, I don't think that's what you have in mind, and even if it is, our friends out there in the hall wouldn't like it much."

"You've got one thing right, Scarecrow. Going to the Caribbean never crossed my mind." She looked at him with amusement. "But there are lots of other ways we can pass the time."

"Such as?" he asked doubtfully. With any other woman, he'd have known exactly what to do, but he couldn't let himself think of her in that way. But hadn't his thoughts already begun to turn that way? Sure, his plans for the weekend had been turned upside down. That couldn't be helped, but how could he forget about his attraction to Amanda if they were going to be in the same room all weekend? Just thinking of the next couple of days made him as nervous as a night alone in an unlit room.

"Well, look at the shelves there." Her voice caught his wandering attention, and he looked up to see her nodding at the bookcases on the opposite wall. "They've given us quite an assortment of games, and there are videocassettes, too. Today's Saturday, and that means movie night at the King house."

He smiled, thinking of the times he'd watched through the window as she and her family, unaware of his presence, had spent just such an evening together. "You almost make it sound exciting," he admitted.

"Well, it's probably no comparison to the entertainment you're used to," she replied, "but I think we'll be able to keep you from going totally stir crazy." She crossed to the shelf and pulled down a game box. "I know just how to start."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were well into their second game of Trivial Pursuit when Hutchins arrived with lunch.

"Boy, I envy you," he told them as he set their trays on the table, away from the game board and pieces that littered one end. "What I wouldn't give for a nice, quiet weekend. That's one of the drawbacks of this job, isn't it, Mr. Stetson? It's so easy to get caught up in all the suspicion and intrigue that you can lose track of what's really important in life."

Lee wasn't sure how to answer. His job was his life, or at least a large part of it. He smiled back and changed the subject. "Why don't you just call me Lee?" he offered. "Or at least Scarecrow. I have a feeling that we'll be seeing way too much of each other this weekend to stand on formality."

"I'd like that, Mr. Stet . . . Scarecrow." The young man beamed his pleasure. "Oh, I was supposed to tell you. Dr. Kelford will be by in an hour or so to see how you're doing. Well . . . see you at dinnertime."

They finished the uninspiring lunch of sandwiches, potato salad, Jell-O, and iced tea quickly and returned to their game. A short time later, Amanda broke into a smile as her piece landed in the center of the playing board. "Aha! This is it, Stetson. One more question and I'll win again. What's the category going to be?"

Lee scowled at her in mock disgust. "Science and Nature," he proclaimed as he reached for the next card in the question box. He looked at it and began to smile. "Don't count your victories before they're won, Amanda," he said, a smirk on his face. "There's no way you're going to get this one."

"Lee, please. Just read the question so I can claim my win, okay?"

Before he could oblige, there was a knock at the door and Dr. Kelford entered the suite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly an hour later, Lee stared at the door as it shut with a soft 'click'. "I hate doctors," he said with quiet resignation.

"He's just trying to work this out," Amanda replied. "But he did have a lot of questions, didn't he?"

"It wasn't the questions that I minded so much," he responded somewhat sullenly. "It was everything else. He must have spent half an hour poking and prodding me. And all those samples – why is it that doctors seem the happiest when they're coming at their patients with a needle in one hand?"

"Just part of the training, I suppose," she answered. "But at least it's good to hear that Mr. Mbuto isn't getting any worse. Whatever's making him sick seems to be under control for now."

"But they still don't have any idea what that is. We have no better idea than before what's happening, and Kelford still doesn't know if and when we'll be able to go home."

"We just have to have faith in him," Amanda said, laying a hand on his arm. He's the expert here. There's nothing you or I can do."

Lee suppressed the shiver that her touch summoned. "You're right," he agreed after a long silence. Determined to take her mind, and his, off the mixed news they had just received, he gave her his best smile. "So let's get back to the game, okay?" He put a hand on her back and guided her back to her seat at the table before taking his own. He picked up the game card, the smirk returning to his face as he looked again at her question. "Okay. Here you are: 'What did the ancient Hindus most often cut off of those who committed adultery?'" He sat back, watching with delight the parade of emotions that passed across her face: puzzlement, then concentration, and finally rosy pink embarrassment as the question finally sank in.

"Lee Stetson! How dare you make up a ridiculous question like that? They'd never put something like that into a family game. I don't believe you for a minute."

"Then read it for yourself," he gloated, turning the question side of the card to her so that she could do so.

"Oh, my gosh -- that is the question . . .. But I can't answer that," she cried. "There's no way I'm going to answer that!"

"If you don't answer it, you'll lose your turn," he teased. "And I'm only one question away from a win, too." He relented a little. "C'mon, Amanda. It's just a game."

She looked at him and blushed even more deeply. "All right, but you have to promise not to laugh, all right?"

"Cross my heart," he returned with a confident grin.

"Okay, then. There's only one thing I can think of, so here goes . . ." She paused, and he thought he saw something twinkle in her eyes. "It's gotta be their noses."

There was a dead silence. Lee looked at Amanda, then at the card, then back up at her again. His mouth hung open as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"Gotcha!" she cried in delight. "You can't fool an old pro like me. Mother and I have spent many an evening at this game. I win again."

"I didn't know that I was playing with a hustler," he grumbled good-naturedly. "What's next?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon passed in comfortable companionship. Soon it was evening, and Hutchins was entering the room dramatically, pushing the cart with their dinner.

He managed to make as big a production of laying out their meal as a waiter going for a big tip. He seated Amanda, then set their plates in front of them. "Grilled salmon, salad, and rice pilaf," he announced, removing the entrées' covers with a flourish of his gloved hands and setting them to one side. "And, for dessert, apple cobbler."

"Mr. Hutchins," Amanda stammered, "there wasn't anything like this on the hospital menu."

"Let's just say that I had a little talk with the chef this afternoon," he admitted with a grin. "I thought it was bad enough that the two of you are cooped up in here, without having to eat the same old hospital fare every day. I hoped that you wouldn't mind the change." As he spoke, he walked back to the delivery cart, sneaking a quick glance toward the door as if he expected someone to be watching.

"I know that Dr. Kelford might not approve, so I didn't ask. But my grandma is of the opinion that a little wine can cure whatever ails a person, and she's one of the smartest people I've ever known. And the oldest." Hutchins produced a bottle of Beaujolais, two glasses, and a corkscrew from a box on the cart's lower shelf. "I hope you agree. It seemed to be the least that I could do." He paused and checked the table again. "Now, I'll be going off duty in a couple of hours, but I'll be back in the morning. Remember, if there's anything you want or need, you just let me handle it for you. I'll be right outside the door."

"I like that kid," Lee admitted after the door had closed behind Hutchins. "Remind me to buy him a drink when we get out of here, will you?"

"I'll do that," she responded, with a warm smile. "Now how about some of that wine?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, they switched from games to the video collection. It was now late evening, and a smile flitted across Lee's face as he remembered how, each time Amanda had leaned forward to retrieve her wine glass or to urge Cary Grant on as the plot unraveled, she seemed to settle back just a little closer to him. Now, with Grant and Eva Marie Saint making their way across Abraham Lincoln's immense forehead, she was snuggled up against his side, her head leaning back against his shoulder. Forgetting to be nervous about her proximity, Lee closed his eyes in contentment.

Finally the credits began to scroll down the screen. "That was great," Amanda said, "but I think it's time for me to get to bed." She rose and turned to face him. "Thanks for a wonderful day, Lee. I'll see you in the morning."

He stood with her. "No, the thanks all go to you," he replied as he reached to take her hand in his. For all his original plans to get away from his partner for the weekend, he now was surprisingly reluctant for the evening to be over. He had a disconcerting urge to take her into his arms and hold her close. Instead, he ran his thumb across her knuckles. When he looked up at her, he saw the same enigmatic look that was on her face during their brief conversation after breakfast. Suddenly unsettled, he didn't know whether to back away or to come up with some excuse to keep her with him a little longer. Nervously, he let go of her hand and took a step back. "Well, uh . . . good night, Amanda. Sleep well."

He watched her cross the room and disappear behind the bedroom door. He found himself listening for the click of the lock, and when it didn't come, he was oddly reassured. He returned to the sofa and flipped the TV off.

He sat there for a long time, alone in the near-darkness, unconsciously shifting the remote control back and forth from one hand to the other. He knew that something was happening to him, but it seemed that his conscious mind refused to let him even try to make any sense of what it was. And it wasn't just this weekend, he admitted to himself. He'd felt the same way more and more often over the past few months. And now he'd begun to find his thoughts interrupted by the unexpected memory of a conversation . . . a smile . . . a touch . . . from his partner, always in association with that unsettling feeling. He felt defenseless and unwilling to take on this particular problem, and he wondered why that didn't bother him more. Finally, he gave up, returned the remote to its spot on the table, and went to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued . . .