Part II

Wednesday, April 3, 1985

The man prowled his small living room restlessly.  Outside, the daylight was fading rapidly and soon darkness would blanket the city.  Nighttime was always the worst . . . and the best.  Darkness fed the hunger and the lust would come hard upon him.  But hunting was easier then . . . they weren't as wary and it was easy to find one.

But the metallic taste of dissatisfaction held him.  The ones on the street at night . . . they weren't really what he needed.  They stilled the lust for a time . . . drove back the ghost that was forever at his shoulder calling for more . . . but only for a very short time.  Then the need would be on him again, harder than ever.  No, experience told him that the needy, grasping ones that he met in bars wouldn't be enough . . . the ghost demanded the "good" ones.  The ones that didn't go out and pick up poor, hapless men in bars for what they could get out of them.  The good ones stilled the lust for a much longer time.

In his mind, the voice called . . . still whispery soft.  But soon it would become loud and harsh, demanding action . . . demanding the blood.  He had met several of the "good" ones recently.  The one at work with the russet-colored hair . . . she would do nicely.  But it was too soon.  He needed more time if he was to do it properly.  So would the brunette from the other day, or the dark girl from the coffee shop this morning.

He stopped his restless pacing, coming to a decision.  It was too soon for them.  The ghost would just have to settle for whatever he could find on the streets tonight.

Thursday, April 4, 1985

"Mrs. King?  Hello!"

Amanda turned at the sound of her name and smiled in delighted surprise.  "Mr. Carlyle!  Hello again.  How nice to see you.  What are you doing here?" 

"Getting lunch," he replied with a laugh.  "I've got a meeting at 2:00 at a company just up the street and thought that I would find someplace close to grab a bite to eat.  This was the only place I could find."

"I'm afraid it is the only thing really close.  This neighborhood is mainly office buildings and most people either bring their lunches or go the mile or so up to 'restaurant row'.  This deli is really good about catering to those of us who prefer to stay close to our offices.  But I'm surprised to see you again.  I would have thought you would have gone home by this time."

"Oh, I did," he assured her.  Then he grimaced ruefully.  "At which point they turned me around and sent me right back.  They were so pleased with the first account I managed to land, that they wanted me to try again.  So here I am."

"Are you going to be here long?"

Thomas shook his head.  "No.  At least, not this trip.  I arrived yesterday morning, and I'm scheduled to fly back Saturday morning.  How often I'll be coming back largely depends on how successful the first few trips to the area turn out to be."

"It must be hard, being away from home so often," she said sympathetically as the two of them moved one step closer to the order counter.

"Well, you get used to it after a while.  And it's not like I have a wife or kids waiting for me.  It's a lot harder for my married co-workers."

"That's true not only for the one who travels but the ones who stay behind."  It was Amanda's turn to grimace.  "Trust me, I know that first-hand."

"Your ex-husband is in sales, I take it."

"No, but his job did require that he spend large periods of time away from home.  He wanted me to come along, but with the boys being so young and needing a stable home . . ."

Thomas nodded.  "It wouldn't have worked at all."

"No."

"May I help you, Mrs. King?" the young woman behind the counter asked.

"Hello, Rachel.  I'll have chicken salad on whole wheat and iced tea, please."

Before the woman could turn away, Thomas added hastily, "Why don't you make that two?  You will eat with me, won't you?"

Amanda hesitated briefly, thinking of the pile of work sitting in the middle of her desk, but relented at the pleading expression on his face.  "I'd love to."  They waited, chatting companionably, while their lunches were prepared and then carried them to an outdoor table in front of the store.

"You really didn't have to buy my lunch," Amanda protested when he refused to take money for her share of the lunch tab.

"I know, but I'm glad to do it.  You're much better company than the newspaper or the pigeons."

"Oh, and speaking of doing things for me, I meant to thank you for the flowers.  They were absolutely gorgeous!  My mother is still going on about them."

"I'm glad you liked them," Thomas replied, looking pleased.

Over the course of the next 45 minutes, the two enjoyed a leisurely lunch, talking and joking.  Amanda learned that Thomas had grown up in San Diego, where his mother and stepfather owned a fishing boat.  His mother had died when he was only six and he had been raised by his stepfather, living and working on the family boat.  Thomas fully admitted that even though the boat was his inheritance and his legacy, he'd had no desire to continue in the family business.  When his stepfather had been lost at sea when he was 19, Thomas had collected the insurance money and used it, what he had managed to save, and the money from working several part time jobs to put himself through college, earning a business degree from the University of California at San Diego.  After that, he'd worked for various firms, first in San Diego, then Los Angeles, and finally in San Francisco.

Amanda finally sighed and looked at her watch.  "I guess I had better get back to work," she said.  "All the stuff on my desk isn't going to do itself."

"Thank you so much for having lunch with me," he said warmly.  "This was so much more pleasant than eating alone."

"I enjoyed it, too," she agreed with a smile.

Thomas hesitated and then continued hastily, "At the risk of making a nuisance of myself, do you suppose you might be willing to have dinner with me tomorrow night?  I've got meetings with clients this evening and all day tomorrow, but I'll be done by 4:00.  I tried for a flight out of Dulles but everything was booked, and now I'm looking at a very bleak Friday evening."

"I'm not surprised you couldn't get a flight," Amanda said as she stood and carried her trash to a nearby garbage can.  "People tend to clear out of this city on Friday evening."  She hesitated, thinking about it.  Finally, she said, "Yes, we could have dinner."  Then she looked at him apologetically.  "As long as you don't mind it being early.  My boys have a Saturday/Sunday scout outing and since I'm the den mother, I have to go.  I'll have packing to do and then we have to be on the move early on Saturday . . ."

"Well, what do you say I pick you up at your office at about 5:15?  We can go out, have a drink, get an early dinner, and then I could drop you back at your office to pick up your car so you could go home from there.  Would that work for you?"

Amanda nodded.  "That would work.  I'll see you tomorrow evening then."

"You are a saint!" Thomas proclaimed with such enthusiasm that it caused Amanda to blush.  With a jaunty wave, he walked off, whistling happily.

As Amanda walked back toward I.F.F., it occurred to her to wonder what Lee would think of this arrangement.  After considering it for a moment, she decided that maybe it would be better if she just didn't mention it. 

Sunday, April 14, 1985

The man advanced slowly through the woods, following the trail of blood through the undergrowth.  It was hot and humid and the insects buzzed around his head mercilessly.  He hadn't thought she could run, but he guessed he shouldn't be surprised.  They were all like that . . . lying, deceitful, never to be trusted.  This one . . . she'd been easy to read.  Knew exactly what she wanted and thought she could get it from him.  But he knew her kind now . . . knew how to lure them into the trap.  He would find her.  She couldn't get away from him.  And in the end, she would pay.

The blood lust was hard on him, now . . . driving him after her.  Ahead, he heard a sharp rustle and a soft whimper.  He increased his speed, a gleeful grin twisting his face.  Soon she would know the price of her folly . . .

Thursday, April 18, 1985

Amanda juggled the stack of files in her hand and then knocked on the door to the second floor conference room across the hall from the Q Bureau. She heard an indistinct call and struggled with the door for a moment before tripping the latch and pushing the door open.  Lee was leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table as he spoke to someone on the phone. He waved her in as he said, ". . . an embassy party, but it should be interesting.  The guest list ought to be a who's who of important people."  He paused, listening for a moment, and then smiled.  "Great!  I'll pick you up at 7:00 tomorrow evening.  Hmmm, you too."  With a satisfied smile, he sat up and dropped the receiver back into the cradle as Amanda dumped the files onto the table in front of him.

"Date?" she asked him nonchalantly.

"Uh huh.  Going to dinner and a reception tomorrow evening at the British Embassy."

Amanda raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "I thought you were on the duty roster to work that State dinner tomorrow evening."

"I was, but I conned Beaman into working it for me."

"Let me guess . . . Brandie wanted to go."

"I'd never take Brandie to something like this!" he replied in horror.

"Cyndi, then."

"No!"

"Jasmine?  Rebecca?  Elaine?  Vanessa?"

"A-man-da!"

"Oh no, wait.  It's Yvette, isn't it?  The French bombshell, I think you called her.  What did you say she did?"

"She's a flight attendant," he said stiffly.  "What about it?"

Amanda held up her hands defensively.  "Nothing!  I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time.  I brought you all of the reports on the Cathigan Corporation.  You didn't say how far back you wanted me to go, so I brought everything I could find."

"Just leave them and I'll go through them later," he replied snappishly, still smarting from her teasing.  "So what are your big plans for tomorrow evening?"

"As it happens, I have a date," she replied smugly.

Lee stared at her in consternation.  "Oh yeah?  Who's the lucky guy?"  he finally said.  Then he frowned.  "Surely not that loser, Dan . . ."

Amanda stared at him in exasperation.  "It's Dean, not Dan . . . as you well know.  And he is not a loser.  He's very successful and good at what he does."

"He's a stiff!"

"He is not!" she replied indignantly.

"Oh please!  You could make lumber out of the guy.  Anyway, I thought you broke up with him.  Why the hell are you . . ."

"I never said I was going out with Dean," she replied with a trace of irritation.  "As a matter of fact, I'm having dinner at Les Halles de Paris with Tom Carlyle."

Lee frowned.  "Carlyle?  Who the hell is th–"  Then he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening slightly as he made the connection.  "Wait a minute.  You mean that alleged salesman that showed up here last month?"

"What do you mean, 'alleged' salesman?  He is a salesman.  And he's – "

"Are you crazy?!?" he demanded in alarm, sitting up abruptly.  "You don't know anything about this guy and you're going out on a date with him?"

"He is a very nice man!" she shot back, starting to look angry.  "He's polite and dependable, and he treats me like a lady.  I enjoy myself when I'm out with him!"

"'You enjoy yourself'?" Lee shouted, fear for her safety curling through his gut.  "Are you telling me you've been out with him before this?"

"What difference is it to you?" she asked hotly, leaning forward and planting her hands on top of the stack of file folders between them.  "Since when do you have to approve the men I date?"

Catching an unfamiliar flash of silver at her wrist, he shot to his feet and grabbed her arm.  "Well, this is new," he said.  He examined the silver bracelet and its leaping dolphin charm with exaggerated interest.  "Is this from your boyfriend?"

"Yes, it's from Thomas," she snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"Good Lord, Amanda, what were you thinking????  You're taking gifts from a guy you don't even know again?"

"Again . . . what do you mean, again?" she demanded, now totally furious with him.   Then she added, "And it wasn't a gift, . . . at least not the kind you mean.  Thomas took the boys and me on an outing –"

"You're allowing him around your sons?" Lee sputtered in horror, but Amanda kept right on going, seemingly oblivious to his protests.

" –to  the shore last weekend.  We went to a carnival and he was playing one of those midway games and he won it for me.  It's perfectly innocent."

"Oh yeah, just as innocent as that concubine ring that Alan Squires gave you!"

Amanda flushed hotly.  "Leave it to you, Lee Stetson, to keep throwing that back in my face.  How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry about what happened?  Or maybe you think men only date me when they want to try to infiltrate the Agency!"  She shoved the arm bearing the bracelet under his nose angrily.  "Here, you want to check it for bugs?"

"No, I don't want to check the damned thing for bugs!  But I sure as hell want to run a check on Carlyle!"

Amanda stared at him in outrage.  "A check!  You run background checks on the men I date?"

By this time, both of them were yelling.  "Hell yes, I run checks on the men you date!  As hard as I've tried, you still insist on playing Lady Bond, super spy, and you're always getting into trouble.  You're so damned naïve that you'll trust anyone.  If you won't be cautious, someone has to be!"

"How dare you!  What gives you the right to do something like that?"  She pointed a shaking finger at him.  "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?  Not EVER!!!  I'll darn well date whoever I please, and you are to keep your nose out of it!"

"Amanda, this guy is dangerous!  I watched him the . . ."

"You watched him?  Now you're telling me that you skulk around and watch me, too?  Is there nothing you won't stoop to?"

"I am not sk –  Damn it, Amanda, don't change the subject!  This Carlyle . . ."

"Is a nice man and I won't listen to any more of your nonsense.  So just drop it!"

The sudden, overwhelming rush of jealousy that was triggered by her last comment finally caused him to lose the last vestige of his self-control.  Rounding the table, Lee reached out and grabbed her arms roughly.  "What is wrong with you?" he yelled.  "Why won't you ever listen to me?"

"Let go of me," she spat back, trying to throw off his hands, but he refused to release her.

"You have to listen to me!"

"I said, let go of me!"  She wrenched herself free from his grasp, pushing him away sharply so he couldn't try to grab her again.  Caught unexpectedly, Lee stumbled backward, losing his balance and landing hard on the floor.

"Don't you ever touch me again," she said, her voice shaking in fury. "In fact, I want you out of my life.  You stay away from my family.  You stay away from anyone I know.  And, most especially, you stay away from ME."

"Amanda . . . Amanda, I'm sorry," Lee said frantically, scrambling to his feet.  "I didn't mean . . ."

"Don't you ever come near me again!"  She spun, intending to leave, only to come face to face with Billy Melrose and Francine Desmond.  Both of them stared at her in shock.  Amanda took a deep breath and then, in a rush, said, "I'm very sorry, Mr. Melrose.  I hope you'll understand, but I'm resigning, effective immediately.  I'll clean out my desk and be out of here as quickly as I can.  I apologize for the lack of notice."  Then she shoved her way past them and was gone.

"AMANDA!" Lee cried, desperately trying to go after her, but Billy blocked his path.

"What the hell did you say to her, Scarecrow?" Billy demanded angrily.

Lee refused to look at either of them as he continued to struggle to get past them and follow Amanda.  God, what have I done? he thought frantically.  "I've got to talk to her, Billy!  She doesn't understand.  I've got to explain . . ."

"I think you've done more than enough already," Melrose snapped. "You stay away from her.  Let me take care of this."

"But . . ."

"I said, stay away from her!  In fact, I want you out of here completely.  I'm pulling you off the duty roster until Monday.  If you're in the building, I doubt that she'll stay, and I need her.  Now go."

"Billy, please –"

"Francine, I want you to see that he goes home.  Either take him or follow him until you know he's there.  Make sure he turns in his badge to Mrs. Marston.  I'll let the guards know he's not to be allowed back in until Monday."  Billy glared at Lee fiercely.  "I mean it, Scarecrow.  You stay away from Amanda King or you'll end up on the next boat to Lapland."  With that, Billy turned and left. 

Lee and Francine stood in strained silence, until she finally said quietly, "You heard him, Lee.  Let's clean this up and go."  He hesitated for a moment longer and then his shoulders slumped dejectedly.  Silently, he picked up his jacket and walked out.  Francine watched him in concern as she pulled the door to the conference room closed behind them.  Pausing, she called, "Lee . . ."  He just kept moving slowly toward the stairway at the end of the hall.  "Lee!" she called more urgently, following him.  Reaching out she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.  He turned to look at her, eyes vacant.  He looks downright shell-shocked, she thought.

"What?" he finally asked in a curiously dead voice.

"What about the files?" she asked him, gesturing back the way they had come.  She watched as his eyes slid to the door behind her and then fell again.

"Screw it."  Then he turned and walked away again.  Francine stood there for an instant and then shrugged and went after him.  Descending the stairs quickly, she saw Lee throw his I.D. on Mrs. Marston's desk and walk out the door without a word.  Francine followed, taking only enough time to pass her own identification to the other woman and asking her to get someone to move the files to Lee's desk down in the bullpen.  Then she ran after Lee.  She managed to catch up to him as he was unlocking the door to the Corvette.  Reaching out from behind, she snatched the keys out of his hand and pushed him toward the back of the car.

"I'm driving," she told him firmly, knowing he wasn't in a fit state to be behind the wheel of a car.  Waving him toward the other side of the vehicle, she opened the driver's side door, climbed in, and shut it behind her.  She watched as he turned, rounded the car, and got in on the passenger's side without a single word of protest.  His silent acquiescence caused the hair to stand up on the back of her neck.  This wasn't like the Lee Stetson she knew at all.

Starting the car, she pulled out of the lot into traffic and began heading in the direction of his apartment, but quickly changed her mind.  He had no business being alone in this state of mind.  Who knows what he would do if she simply took him to his apartment and dropped him off.  Making a right a short time later, she began to drive aimlessly.  They rode in silence for a long time, and she watched him warily out of the corner of her eye.  His expression was utterly blank as he stared sightlessly out the front window.  Finally, in a carefully neutral tone, Francine asked, "So what did you say to make Amanda so angry?"  She saw him blink and start slightly, but he didn't reply.  "Come on, Lee, you can tell me.  I know I haven't exactly been the president of the Amanda King fan club, but in the two years since I met her, I think I've gotten to know her pretty well.  That business a little while ago is totally out of character for her.  Something must have happened.  What was it?"

Finally, in a low voice he replied, "I only wanted to protect her."

Francine shot him a startled look and then in the same neutral tone, she replied, "Of course you did.  She's your partner.  That's what you're supposed to do.  So what did you say?"

"I – I told her . . ."  He paused and then heaved a deep sigh.  "I told her that I ran background checks on her boyfriends."

"You –" she choked out and then stopped.  She took a deep breath and said weakly, "Oh boy . . ."

In an abrupt shift of mood, Lee slammed a fist down on the dashboard in front of him and swore.  "She is so damned naïve! She just can't get it through her head that not everyone in this world is good and kind and gentle, or will respond positively to that kind of treatment.  This is a nasty business, Francine.  We both know it.  But she just won't see it.  Do you know what she's doing now?  Do you?"

"No, what?"

"She's dating that guy that came into the Agency about a month ago."

"What guy?"

"The one that gave Mrs. Marston such a hard time."

"That computer parts salesman?  How did she hook up with him?"

"I have no idea!  I didn't even know they had been going out until this afternoon.  I tell you, Francine, I don't like this guy.  There's something about him that really gets my back up."

"You didn't even meet him," she objected.

"No, but I saw the entire altercation on the monitors and there was something not right about him."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! It was just a feeling . . . like . . ." he sighed in frustration.  "I can't . . . like he was hiding something maybe."  He pounded his fist into the door in frustration.  "And now I can't get back into the Agency to run the check and find out anything about him."

Carefully, Francine offered, "You know, Lee, maybe this really isn't any of your business.  I know you worry about her, but you have to learn to draw the line somewhere.  Don't you think that investigating her boyfriends might be pushing it just a little bit?"

"I know what you're thinking.  You think I sound jealous."

"Well, now that you mention it . . ."

"This is not jealousy," he insisted forcefully.  "My concern is as much for the Agency as anything else.  Amanda makes the perfect target.  She's relatively untrained so she doesn't have the skills to spot it when someone is conning her.  That makes her a weak point in our organization . . . one that could break if the right pressure were applied."

Francine looked at her companion incredulously.  He actually seemed to believe this drivel.  "I don't think you're giving her enough credit, Lee.  She's been a big girl for a long time now.  And it really isn't your responsibility to check up on her personal –"

"Damn it, Francine, you know what I mean!  She's just too easily blindsided.  And I've never interfered with anyone she's tried to date . . . God forbid.  But I have made certain that they were who they said they were, and that there were no surprises."  He turned to her suddenly.  "That's why you have to do this favor for me, Francine."

"Oh, no!  Not on your life, Lee Stetson.  I'm not going to run a background check on Amanda King's newest boyfriend for you!  Not only is it ethically questionable and specifically against the rules, but it's also downright tacky.  Furthermore, Billy would kill me if I got caught."

"You have to, Francine.  You're the only one I can trust to do it."

"If you want it so desperately, then wait until you come back on Monday and run it yourself!"

"I need it by tomorrow evening!  Come on, Francine.  Please!  I'll owe you one."

"Well . . ."

"Pleeeeease."

She sighed heavily.  "I swear, I must be out of my mind . . ."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Billy walked into the bullpen, he immediately sensed the tension.  Small groups of people huddled together, whispering among themselves, while others who had to cross the bullpen were making it a point to give a wide berth to the desk on the far side of the room.  He looked around, searching for Amanda King, but didn't see any sign of her.  Suddenly, Billy caught motion out of the corner of his eye and looked around just as Leatherneck came up beside him.

"What's happened?" the man asked quietly, giving Billy a knowing look.

"That obvious?"

"Oh, yeah.  I've never seen her this agitated, not even at Scarecrow.  Who upset her?"

"Who do you think?" Billy asked in disgust.

Leatherneck just sighed and shook his head.  "He's never going to change, is he?  Anyone with half an eye can tell Amanda's crazy about him and that she'd do anything for him.  I feel so sorry for her."

"When it comes to this kind of thing, he's an idiot . . . we all know that.  I'm just grateful that he's never treated her the way he does all of the others.  So where is she?"

"Just headed toward the ladies room.  I think she needed to get away from prying eyes for a while. It looks like she's packing, Billy."

Billy sighed softly.  "Yeah, I know.  I've got to find a way to stop her . . . as much for Lee's sake as for hers.  He's already half-sick over the fight.  He'll never forgive himself if they split for good on these terms."

"What the hell did he do?" Leatherneck asked in disgust.

"God alone knows."

Leatherneck gestured with his head.  "Here she comes.  Good luck."

Gazing at Amanda's face, Billy shook his head.  "Thanks.  It looks like I'm going to need it."  Crossing to her quickly, he caught her elbow and turned her toward his office.  "Come on, Amanda.  We need to talk."

She tried to pull away and said, "No, sir.  There's nothing to –"

"It was not a request, Mrs. King.  It was an order.  In."  Closing the door firmly behind them, he reached up to close the blinds as he gestured her to a chair.  "Sit down."

Amanda stubbornly remained standing.  "There really is nothing to talk about, Mr. Melrose.  I meant it when I said that I quit.  I'll just get the last of my things and then I'll be out of the way for good.  And I would prefer to have it done before Mr. Stetson puts in an appearance."

"He won't.  I've ordered him out of the building until Monday.  Francine is to see that he leaves, and security has been ordered to see that he stays out."  Amanda's eyes widened in shock and she reached for the back of the nearby chair to steady herself, as she watched him round his desk and sink into his chair.  Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out the large bottle of antacid tablets and popped a couple into his mouth with a grimace.  "Would you please sit down.  You're making me nervous, standing there like that."

She finally moved over to the chair and sank into it slowly.  "You banned him from the Agency?" she asked weakly.

"Yes, I did.  Amanda, you are a reasonable and incredibly tolerant woman.  And I know Scarecrow only too well.  For you to react the way you did a little while ago tells me that he's done something seriously wrong this time.  I consider you a valuable asset to the Field Office and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you go without knowing what the hell is going on here.  Now, tell me what happened up there this afternoon."

Finally, for the first time since the entire incident occurred, Amanda's brain seemed to get beyond the thought of 'he's running background checks on my boyfriends'.  She bowed her head and considered the situation carefully.  It would take a really great stretch of the imagination for anyone to believe that Lee had been running those checks as part of Agency business.  Misuse of government resources and his clearances, a voice in her mind whispered.  That's in direct violation of his employment contract and the oaths you both had to sign when you accepted employment with the Agency.  With sudden clarity, she realized just how much trouble Lee Stetson would be in if this came to light.  Dr. Smyth disliked her partner and had been hunting for a reason to get rid of him ever since Harry Thornton retired.  This could easily be the ammunition he needed to accomplish it.

"Amanda, I asked you a question.  What happened up there?"

Slowly, she raised her head and looked her boss in the eye.  Picking her words carefully, she replied, "It had nothing to do with work, sir.  It was a personal dispute between Lee and myself.  I'd rather not say any more than that."

"And yet, whatever it was, it made you feel that you had to quit the Agency."

"Yes, sir."

"It seems to me that makes it about work, then."

"No, sir.  I mean, yes, sir.  I mean –"  She stopped, flustered.  Then she sighed in frustration and tried again.  "Mr. Melrose, over the last couple of years, I thought Lee and I had become friends.  I know that he never really took me seriously as an agent, but I really did believe that he respected me."

"You've always had great instincts, Amanda . . ."

"Yes, sir.  So you've said.  But I don't think Lee ever really agreed with you.  But it doesn't matter any longer.  The point is that the fight this afternoon . . . well, it just brought up some things that have obviously been building between us for a long time now.  What they are, I'd rather not say, but I promise you they aren't work-related.  It just reached the point where I realize that I can't work with him any more."  She bowed her head and stared at her hands, which lay folded in her lap.  There was deep sadness in her voice as she added softly, "That's why I believe it would be better for everyone concerned if I left the Agency and found work somewhere else."

Billy leaned back in his chair and contemplated her for a long time.  Finally, he said quietly, "I'm not prepared to accept that, Amanda, and I won't accept your resignation."  Her head snapped up and she stared at him in astonishment.  "At least, not yet," he added as she he saw her start to protest.  "Whatever happened between the two of you is too fresh . . . too raw . . . for you to make a clear-headed decision about anything.  I know that before you were halfway down the hall, Lee was trying to follow you to apologize.  I practically had to restrain him bodily.  All too often, Scarecrow's mouth engages before his brain does, and he can be extremely thoughtless and insensitive when he really loses his temper."

"I've experienced that firsthand," she replied bitterly.

Billy nodded regretfully.  "I've seen you be the target of it more times than I care to consider.  And you've always forgiven him for those lapses.  I don't know, maybe you can't forgive him for whatever he's done this time.  But I am going to ask you to give this some time before you make a decision you may be sorry for after the heat of the moment has passed."

"I don't know . . ."

"I do," Billy said forcefully.  "And I also want you to consider this.  If you finally decide that you simply can't work with Lee Stetson any longer, I'm prepared to find you a new partner, and I will see to it that you aren't assigned to work on any case that Lee is involved in.  Not only that, if you feel that you simply can't work in Field Section at all, I will find another place for you somewhere else in the Agency, whether it's in research, cryptography, or whatever."  He leaned forward and stared at her earnestly.  "I do not want this agency to lose your talents, Amanda.  You bring a fresh perspective and a logical mind to this work . . . something that tends to be very hard to find.  You also have contacts in places that we don't, and an understanding of a section of this metropolitan society that I can get nowhere else.  That is a valuable asset.  I'm not going to lose that without a fight."

Amanda gazed at him silently for a long time.  Finally, she licked her lips and said hesitantly, "So what is it that you want me to do?"

"What I'd like for you to do is go back out to your desk, unpack that damned box, and get back to work on the case summary I gave you this morning.  But I also realize that may be a bit much to ask.  If you need to get away from here for a while, I understand.  But I would like you to come in tomorrow morning to work on that summary.  I really do need it for a meeting tomorrow afternoon with Smyth.  Then, think about what I've said.   You can give me a decision about what you want to do on Monday.  I swear, I'll keep Scarecrow away from you while you give it careful thought.  Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, she nodded.  "All right," she agreed reluctantly.

"Good."  Billy stood and came around the desk as Amanda rose from her chair.  Placing a hand in the small of her back, he guided her gently toward the door.  "There's just one other thing," he said, stopping her as she reached for the doorknob.  His face hardened as he said firmly, "I've ordered Scarecrow to stay away from you, both here and at home.  If he shows up at your house, or even runs into you on the street, I want to know about it.  He's violated enough direct orders, and I've had it.  I won't tolerate him violating this one.  Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir," she replied quietly.

"Good.  Think about what I've said."  Then he opened the door for her.  With a subdued nod, she left the office and crossed the bullpen slowly.  Billy opened the blinds again and watched her walk up to her desk and stare down at the box sitting on her chair.  Finally, she picked it up and set it down on the floor in the back corner of her workspace.  Then she sat down in the chair, retrieved a pad of paper out of one of the drawers, pulled a file out of her inbox, and began reading.  After a moment, she picked up a pen and began jotting notes on the pad.  Billy saw several people watching her, but thankfully, all of them left her alone.  Well, she's not unpacking, he thought ruefully, but she's also not bolting out the door.  That's one small victory.  He frowned as he turned away from the window.  What the hell did Scarecrow do? he wondered.  And, even more importantly, why is she still protecting him?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The man paced the small room wildly, the driving bloodlust eating at him like acid.  Outside his second story window, the mid-afternoon traffic was stalled by an accident further up the street.  Car horns and raised voices added to his agitation, causing him to talk compulsively to himself.

"Wait . . . wait . . . must wait.  Not now.  Not in the light.  The light will let them see."  The voice whispered to him, calling seductively . . . urging him to seek the blood.  Blood for blood.  It stilled the voice.  Her voice . . . the first one.  She still called him.  Anna . . . he would never forget her name.  He remembered her . . . her soft brown hair and warm brown eyes.  He thought she was different.  Always pleasant.  Always friendly.  Seemingly interested in him.  When he tried to . . . she laughed . . . laughed at him for thinking she would . . .  But she didn't laugh for long.  The blood cleansed the humiliation . . . brought satisfaction . . .  But she wouldn't leave him alone.  He could hear her calling, even now.  Only the blood stilled her voice . . . for a while . . .

He should have known.  The Man had told him . . . they all lie.  Didn't his own mother teach him that lesson?  He remembered her, too . . . lying . . . saying she would always be there.  But she hadn't been, had she?  Married The Man . . . the one that beat him . . . beat them both.

He closed his eyes, trying to purge the vision.  The blood . . . the first time he'd experienced it . . . the call of the blood.  He didn't understand then . . . only six years old.  They'd been far out at sea fishing for the big ones when it happened.  He'd tried to tell her to get up, but she wouldn't . . . just laid there, surrounded by the blood, while That One had laughed drunkenly, the pipe still in his hand, and told her she wouldn't lie to him any more.  He remembered the dolphin along the side of the boat and the way it had circled, chattering, when she hit the water.  Like some kind of obscene laughter.  But most of all, he remembered the blood . . . spreading across the deck like a creeping flood.  It called to him, even though he didn't understand why.

It wasn't until he heard Anna's voice . . . laughing -- chattering like that dolphin . . . that he began to understand.  The voice came from the blood and only blood could still it.  He first heard it as he stood over her staring at the growing pool of crimson.  It was intoxicating . . . to know that she would never lie . . . never laugh at him again.  But then he heard it . . . her voice, calling to him over and over . . . telling him to join his blood to hers . . . and he was afraid.  His mother had never called to him in this way.  And so he ran, and for a time that had been enough.  Moving from place to place had muted it, but it never really went away.  And eventually, it always grew louder and more demanding again.

It was Carla that showed him how to silence the voice.  He gave the liars like her to the voice and then it was still . . . but only for a while.  It always came back . . . just like it was calling to him now.  It never laughed at him any longer.  Now it was like a siren's call . . . driving him . . . making him find the blood.

He turned to the door, the need to still the voice driving him harder than it ever had before.  He needed the silence!  If only he had been able to complete the one the other day . . .