Chapter 14 Charles & Deborah Kluge Charles & Deborah Kluge 2 1 2001-11-05T01:55:00Z 2001-11-05T01:55:00Z 3 1166 6648 55 13 8164 9.2720

Chapter 14

It was mid-afternoon and Billy was just finishing the last of the written reports on Operation Rimrunner when a knock caused him to look up.

"Come in."

The door swung open slowly and he saw Scarecrow leaning against the doorframe.  The two stared at each other for a moment and then Billy leaped up and circled the desk hastily, reaching out for the other man.

"Good Lord, Scarecrow, what happened to you?  You look like hell!"

Lee smiled and shoved himself upright wearily.  "Not enough sleep, too much travel, and the single worst hangover I've ever had in my life.  Don't worry.  I'll live."

Billy shook his head and waved at a chair.  "Sit down before you fall down.  How the hell did you get here so fast?  The reservations the travel department set up didn't have you getting in until sometime after 7:00 tonight.  It's only 2:00!"

Lee shrugged as he sank into the indicated chair and scrubbed at his face blearily with one hand.  "The flight they booked out of Italy didn't leave until after 10:00 and then I had a layover in Paris.  I didn't want to wait that long, so I caught an early flight out of Rome to London.  My luck was running.  I got in with just enough time to exchange the Agency tickets for a seat on the morning flight out of Heathrow on the Concorde.  That got me into New York about 9:30 this morning, I waded through customs, caught the first flight with a seat on it to D.C. and here I am."

"Good Lord!  No wonder you look so awful.  When was the last time you had any sleep?"  Lee just shrugged.  "And you do know that the Agency can't reimburse you for the difference in the cost of the airfare on the Concorde.  Not for something like this."

"Doesn't matter," Lee replied.  "I'll eat it. I just wanted to come home."

Billy stared hard at Lee, that nagging fear gnawing at him again.  Trying to lighten the mood a little, he forced a grin and sniped humorously, "What were you doing, carousing the whole time you were over there?"

"Hey, I only went out the one night, and if it hadn't been for Scorpion, things would have been fine."

"Scorpion got you drunk?"

Lee shifted uncomfortably.  "Well, you know how it goes.  One thing led to another, and  . . ."

"Uh huh," Billy said knowingly.  "You know, I thought you'd pretty much outgrown that tendency."

Lee rubbed his aching head and admitted, "So did I.  You don't have any aspirin, do you?  And I'd take some of those Tums you keep in your bottom drawer, too, if you can spare them."

Billy contemplated him for a second and then shook his head.  "I don't think so.  What you need is food and sleep, in that order.  Go get them.  I don't want to see you in this office before Wednesday."

"What about my wrap up report on Rome?"

"I've had glowing reports from the Italian Agency; they are extremely pleased, and for now that's all I need to know.  You said there were no problems, right?"

Problems, Lee thought despairingly.  Yes, I had problems.  Lee considered the days in Rome and suddenly they seemed to blur right into the rest of his life.  An endless litany of strange places, continuously changing faces, long days, even longer nights, brittle laughter, loneliness . . . and nowhere that ever felt . . . right.  He'd never seemed to belong anywhere.  He'd drifted from place to place, pulled along first by his uncle and later by the Agency . . . never seeming to develop any attachments or roots.  After a time, he just found it easier to live that way . . . particularly after Dorothy died.  And Eric.  No attachments . . . never allowing anyone or anything to get close enough to hurt him.  Yes, sometimes it was a lonely life, but he was a loner . . . born and bred.  It was the way he always thought he wanted it.  But this last week had been a revelation of sorts.  Particularly last night, in that noisy club surrounded by co-workers and people he once might have called friends . . . last night he had never felt more alone or desolate.  And what had he done to try to drive that loneliness out?  Bile rose in his throat every time he thought about it.

Were there problems with my assignment in Rome? he asked himself again.  No, he finally acknowledged, none that I didn't take with me.  The problem wasn't the assignment.  It was him.  Billy was right.  He had outgrown that life.  He wasn't sure when it happened . . . or even why . . . but last night in that crowded bar it had finally hit home.   He wasn't the man he used to be.  The high-flying, devil-may-care lifestyle, with all of it's glitter, excitement, and adventure wasn't enough.  And when he finally realized that, it had scared him witless. If he couldn't live the life he knew, then what did he have left?

Through the long hours of the return trip today, he'd contemplated that epiphany.  At first, he'd tried to shrug it off, thinking that the aching loneliness and depression were little more than the aftermath of his drunken night of debauchery . . . that when he got home everything would be fine again.  But it wasn't.  If anything it had grown worse.  His old life was a thing of the past.  He understood that now.  But he had no idea what came next, or even where to go looking for answers.

Unbidden, the images that had been haunting him for the last year stirred again.  The deep brown eyes that looked at him with such fondness and concern.  The radiant smile that seemed capable of lighting the darkest hours.  The soft laughter that could make his heart soar.  And the warmth that filled him in the face of her fierce determination to stick with him, no matter the cost.  As he envisioned her face, that warmth returned again and it seemed to drive the loneliness and depression away.  It finally dawned on him, then, that maybe his own subconscious had been trying to tell him something for a very long time.

"SCARECROW!"

Lee jumped violently and his head snapped up.  "What?  What did you say?"

"What is wrong with you?" Billy demanded, frowning in concern.

"Nothing.  What was it you asked me?"

"I asked you if there were any problems in Rome that I need to know about."

"No," Lee replied.  "Everything went smooth as silk."

Billy rose from his chair and came around to sit on the corner of the desk near Lee's chair.  Reaching out, he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Lee, I'm getting seriously worried about you.  Are you certain you're all right?"

Lee repeated wearily.  "Yeah, Billy.  I'll be fine.  I'm just dead tired."  He hesitated and then asked carefully, "Is Amanda around anywhere?  I thought I'd let her know I was back."

Billy shook his head.  "No.  They wrapped up Operation Rimrunner last night.  Final mission reports were turned in this morning and I've given the principals a couple of days to unwind."

"Amanda was working last night?"  It wasn't a date . . . it was just a job!  Lee felt a glimmer of hope stir in the midst of his loneliness and depression.  "Her case was the reason you were in here so late?"

Billy nodded.  "Yes.  It was starting to come loose, and she and Windsor broke it wide open."  Lee straightened sharply, fear written on his face.   Billy reacted immediately, laying a reassuring hand on his should once more.  "And before you start to get wound up about it, they did a hell of a job.  No civilians hurt, all of the involved parties accounted for and safely out of circulation, and only a few minimal injuries."

"Who was hurt?"  The tension in Lee's voice was clear.

"Windsor was shot in the shoulder and Amanda had a slight injury to one hand that was treated by the paramedics.  Nothing to worry about.  She's one hell of an agent.  You should be proud of her."

"I am."  Lee rose stiffly from the chair.  "Can I take off then?  I'll write up the mission report on Wednesday when I get back."

"Fine," Billy agreed readily, walking him toward the door.  "Just leave your notes and mission folders with me in case I need to check anything and then go home and get some rest."

"Thanks, Billy.  I will."  But as he walked away, Lee thought to himself, After I make one other stop.