Title: The Price We Pay
Disclosure: Warner Brothers Television Distribution and Shoot The Moon Productions owns these characters, as well as to the writers, and actors who created and portrayed them. Generous references to the past and the events of the 4th season… I don't make any money off of this – my only reward is my personal satisfaction at having written a decent story (and the story is all mine). Oh, and any new characters that you meet along the way - those are creations from my own twisted imagination, so hands off, unless you ask for permission to play with them.
See Chapter 1 for more information on timing and all that other good stuff...
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Late into the night, after the breezes cooled down the house, and the married agents had sleepily pulled a comforter over themselves without waking up, Amanda found herself back in the warehouse, with no control over what was happening around her.
She sat straight up out of the nightmare, a cold sweat beading on her skin, and a loud 'NO!' dying at her lips. She turned and grabbed onto Lee, who had just sat up at the noise and movement, as if her life depended on it. She pushed her head into his shoulder, and started rubbing her forehead into his neck.
"Shhhh. Shhh, Amanda. It's all right. I'm right here. Shhhh." Lee was awake enough now to realize that his wife had had yet another nightmare, and was rubbing his hand over her hair, with his other arm held firmly against her back, holding her to him. "Shhhhh. Amanda, talk to me."
She slowly lifted her head and looked her husband in the eye by the light of the moon streaming into the room. "The dream was different this time. It changed. I couldn't do anything. I didn't work fast enough. I'm so sorry." Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the heels of her hands.
"Shhh. Stop, Amanda." Lee turned towards the bed table and turned on the light. "What happened?" He reached his arms out towards his wife, and she settled into them, laying her head on his chest, curling into him as if she were a child.
"I couldn't react in time."
"You were back in the warehouse." She nodded her head into his chest. "What happened, Amanda? This was just a dream; I'm OK, you're OK. We're here together in Arlington and no one has any injuries." Lee leaned his head down and kissed her on the top of hers.
"I couldn't react in time. I couldn't get my gun up. You took the bullet this time, and you died, while I was holding you. It's my fault." She started sobbing again into Lee's chest. He shifted position, and she moved away slightly. It was just enough for him to grab her shoulders and pull her up to look at him.
"We're fine. I'm alive. This isn't a dream. These nightmares have gotten worse since you went back to work, haven't they?" She nodded. "You're going to see Pfaff in the morning, got it?" Again, she nodded. "No ducking out, hear me? I'm going to call Billy and make sure you're there. I'll recommend that he suspend you if you don't show up. And he'll back me up on it, too."
Amanda looked at Lee as if she thought he was kidding, and then changed her mind. "You're serious, aren't you? You're going to check up on me? You'd have me suspended?"
"You'd do the same to me, Amanda Stetson. In fact, if I recall correctly, there was a time that you did check up on me. And Billy almost *did* suspend me for not seeing Pfaff. You have no excuses now – we're both re-instated, so it should be easier to get in to see Pfaff. No armed escorts, no explaining things over and over again." Lee thought briefly about Billy's orders to stay away from The Agency for a little while, giving them time to relax and figure out who was harassing Amanda with those notes, but figured there had to be a way around that and help Amanda.
Amanda nodded and let herself be pulled into Lee's arms again. He cuddled her against him until they both fell asleep.
The next morning, while Amanda was in the shower, Lee quietly called Billy to insist on her seeing Pfaff. Billy assured him that it wouldn't be an issue. Because of the decision to have them work at home for a while, Pfaff would be coming to them.
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While Amanda was falling asleep in her husband's arms, and two agents were being relieved in the middle of the night by two more outside a white house in Arlington, a piece of paper was being rolled into an old Royal typewriter somewhere in D.C. The lady at the keys stopped, looked out the window into the night and thought about what she needed to write before a wicked smile spread across her pretty features and she put cotton gloved pressure to the keys.
She thought about the cotton gloves she was wearing – not very old, but well worn, and perfectly suited to their purpose. They're the type of gloves a lady would wear to bed at night after applying lotion or moisturizer to her hands. This keeps the lotion from getting on the bedclothes, and keeps the moisture on the lady's hands to keep them looking young and unwrinkled. It is in this way that they won't get dry and cracked and old looking before their time. Anyone can tell age from the hands, and the younger they look, the less likely that anyone would guess the lady's age. No matter how young or old she may be.
They're also fantastic for not shedding any lint off in unnecessary places.
After a couple of moments and a few keys pressed, she pulled the paper out of the rollers, laughing at her genius. Slowly she read it, once, twice, a third time before folding it in thirds and placing it in a white business size envelope.
Her cotton gloves wouldn't leave a print anywhere she didn't need them too – not on the typewriter, not on the desk.
Her cotton gloves won't leave a print on the paper, and they keep the lotion residue from smearing the newly typewritten words.
Her cotton gloves won't leave a smell or a fiber on the envelope she used to contain the envelope.
Those cotton gloves only get a little wet as she used a sponge to moisten the stamp for the front and the back flap of the envelope to seal it shut.
Those dainty cotton gloves place the letter aside to be hand-delivered by a special courier who will arrive just before dawn, at another location, no questions asked, and when that's done, the lady slowly stripped the gloves off, one finger at a time.
The letter is short, simple and to the point. It should have the intended recipient in tears and riddled with doubts almost immediately. The thought of this made the lady laugh with an almost hysterical quality to it. And as she laughed, she managed to speak the words that she had just typed out…
"Lee Stetson, Jr. wants his daddy."
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Amanda picked up the heavy crystal vase her aunt Lillian had given her last Easter and heaved it across the room. Luckily, the weight prevented it from staying aloft for too long, and it broke in large pieces on the carpet, instead of shattering against the wall, which was Amanda's goal. This frustrated her almost immediately, and she started looking around for something else. Lee was frantically trying to get her to calm down, and jumped over the couch before she could reach their wedding picture in the crystal frame that Dotty had placed it in when Lee moved in.
He got to it in time, and moved out of Amanda's way. 'At least she isn't aiming at me,' he thought to himself, just seconds before ducking out of the way of a china collector's plate Amanda had had on the mantle next to the photo. The latest letter had come via special delivery, paid in cash according to the receipt, and was crumpled up in a corner of the room.
"Amanda, this person is obviously lying. They're unhinged. They're trying to get a rise out of you." Lee was hoping that his words would get through her anger. His voice kept rising with each sentence, too. He wanted to get his hands on whoever had the sick mind that was bent on tormenting his wife. And more than anything in the world, Lee would love to have a child, but it wasn't realistic in the jobs that he and Amanda had. And he couldn't imagine having a child with any of the women that he had bedded in the past – the only he wanted to have was one with Amanda. "Who says they're being truthful, Amanda, they've lied so far." 'At least I hope so,' he thought to himself.
This statement seemed to break through the uncharacteristic display of anger Amanda was displaying. She stopped and looked at Lee as if he'd materialized out of nowhere. She immediately sat down on the couch and looked up at Lee. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I've been so dumb. Why have I been doubting you?" She said this last statement almost to herself.
Lee spoke softly, "I've been asking myself the same question, Amanda. Why *have* you been doubting me?"
"I don't know. I don't understand it myself." Amanda looked up at him, almost childlike in her confusion.
"Amanda, when no one else supported me, you were always there. What's happening here?"
"I don't know. You're right. I've always believed in you before, no matter how unbelievable the odds. Why stop now?" Amanda smiled back up at her husband, and reached her hand out for him to hold. She pulled him down to the couch next to her and pulled him into a strong hug. Lee almost felt like Amanda was hanging on to him so that she wouldn't drown.
"Exactly, why stop now." He emphasized the last three words with slight pauses between them. "Come on, Pfaff will be here soon." Amanda looked up at him in surprise as he held his hand out to her. "I called Billy this morning to set up an appointment, and he said he'd send Pfaff to us, as often as you need for as long as we're working at home."
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Becca Dobson stood naked before her full-length mirror, admiring her body not for the first time. She reached over to grab the blue sheath of fabric hanging from the edge of the closet door, and slowly slipped it on. She slowly buttoned up the front, leaving a button open to give a tantalizing view of cleavage to anyone who was interested enough to look. The way the material clung to her body spoke volumes; sins that had not yet been thought of could be committed by the promise held in that dress.
She finished touching up her makeup one last time, and smoothed her hands down the sides of the silky royal blue fabric. She shivered slightly as her hands came back up and rested lightly across her breasts. The blue was just the right color to bring out her eyes, and make them even more outstanding; she agreed with the vision in the mirror that looked back at her.
The dress she wore was lightly lined just enough to wear to work without undergarments, and sexy enough for the activities the night brought. She loved the way the dress felt, silky and warm, holding her as if a lover would. She loved the dress even more when the right hands were unbuttoning the front to release her from its firm hold. 'There's no one person who could resist me in blue. And today will be no different.'
She headed downstairs to get her car for the ride over to The Agency, and the morning staff meeting. When she arrived, every eye was on her, male and female. The men were definitely taking notes and appreciation of her appearance this morning; the women wondered why she even bothered getting dressed to come to work – her reputation as a tramp had preceded her. She walked into the staff meeting a scant two minutes late, and turned a bright smile towards Billy. He just kept going despite the interruption and had no harsh words this morning for the late agent. He seemed more tired than usual, almost defeated, and Becca guessed that that was why he hadn't snapped at her for being late.
As she looked around the table, at the other agents with her, she realized that two seats were empty. 'No Amanda today,' she mused, 'no Lee either.' The thought that Lee was absent bothered Becca slightly, and she scowled without realizing she was doing it. Francine looked across the table at her, and Billy derailed her train of thought by asking what her thoughts were. She passed on commenting; saying simply that it was nothing and for him to continue. 'Good thing, too, considering I had no idea what he was talking about,' she thought to herself, careful to not let her feelings show on her face.
When Billy dismissed the meeting, Francine quickly caught up with her old friend. "Just where do you think *you're* going, Dobson?"
"Just upstairs to do my job, Desmond. What's the problem?" Becca looked her right back in the eye.
"I'm surprised Billy didn't dress you down in that meeting, although you did a pretty good job of that yourself. What's with the outfit?"
"What's wrong with it?" Becca batted her eyelashes coyly at her friend, knowing that it wouldn't work.
"Oh, just that a blind man could tell that you aren't wearing anything underneath it. What's the occasion, Becca? You haven't dressed like that since you the last time you were stalking a new conquest." Francine looked suspiciously at her friend. She remembered that the last conquest she had been after was now happily married to his partner, and not happy at all with the way Becca was acting around him.
"No, of course I haven't. I've been in a god-forsaken nowhere desert halfway across the world where dressing like this would have gotten me raped and killed if I was lucky. Now I can relax and be myself. You've known me for years and years; you know this is the way I am. Come on, Francine, lay off. I just want to cut loose a little, get back to having some fun."
"Desmond! My office! NOW!" Billy's voice boomed out of the bullpen, and into the hallway where the two women had finally made their way. The guards at the entrance of the bullpen were still standing professionally, but their eyes were clearly focused on Becca's chest, and the outline of what could be a dress seam or could be a nipple that was clearly defined in the blue silk.
"We're not done with this, Becca. I've got to go. I'll see you in the Q shortly." Francine turned back into the bullpen, and addressed the guards. "Eyes forward, men." They both straightened up a little more, and refocused straight ahead, after hearing the blond woman's command.
Becca didn't consider their attention being re-diverted to be much of a loss, and decided to take a little walk to occupy her time before heading into the Q. She hadn't seen an old friend of hers from the society pages in a while, and she figured that he might be a little surprised and pleased at her appearance today. She started to whistle a little tune while standing, contemplating her plans, and then started heading off.
One of the guards quietly commented to the other, while still keeping his eyes forward, "Did I just hear her start whistling 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?"
"No, moron," his companion replied. "She was whistling 'Baa Baa Black Sheep'."
Disclosure: Warner Brothers Television Distribution and Shoot The Moon Productions owns these characters, as well as to the writers, and actors who created and portrayed them. Generous references to the past and the events of the 4th season… I don't make any money off of this – my only reward is my personal satisfaction at having written a decent story (and the story is all mine). Oh, and any new characters that you meet along the way - those are creations from my own twisted imagination, so hands off, unless you ask for permission to play with them.
See Chapter 1 for more information on timing and all that other good stuff...
~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK
Late into the night, after the breezes cooled down the house, and the married agents had sleepily pulled a comforter over themselves without waking up, Amanda found herself back in the warehouse, with no control over what was happening around her.
She sat straight up out of the nightmare, a cold sweat beading on her skin, and a loud 'NO!' dying at her lips. She turned and grabbed onto Lee, who had just sat up at the noise and movement, as if her life depended on it. She pushed her head into his shoulder, and started rubbing her forehead into his neck.
"Shhhh. Shhh, Amanda. It's all right. I'm right here. Shhhh." Lee was awake enough now to realize that his wife had had yet another nightmare, and was rubbing his hand over her hair, with his other arm held firmly against her back, holding her to him. "Shhhhh. Amanda, talk to me."
She slowly lifted her head and looked her husband in the eye by the light of the moon streaming into the room. "The dream was different this time. It changed. I couldn't do anything. I didn't work fast enough. I'm so sorry." Tears started to fall down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the heels of her hands.
"Shhh. Stop, Amanda." Lee turned towards the bed table and turned on the light. "What happened?" He reached his arms out towards his wife, and she settled into them, laying her head on his chest, curling into him as if she were a child.
"I couldn't react in time."
"You were back in the warehouse." She nodded her head into his chest. "What happened, Amanda? This was just a dream; I'm OK, you're OK. We're here together in Arlington and no one has any injuries." Lee leaned his head down and kissed her on the top of hers.
"I couldn't react in time. I couldn't get my gun up. You took the bullet this time, and you died, while I was holding you. It's my fault." She started sobbing again into Lee's chest. He shifted position, and she moved away slightly. It was just enough for him to grab her shoulders and pull her up to look at him.
"We're fine. I'm alive. This isn't a dream. These nightmares have gotten worse since you went back to work, haven't they?" She nodded. "You're going to see Pfaff in the morning, got it?" Again, she nodded. "No ducking out, hear me? I'm going to call Billy and make sure you're there. I'll recommend that he suspend you if you don't show up. And he'll back me up on it, too."
Amanda looked at Lee as if she thought he was kidding, and then changed her mind. "You're serious, aren't you? You're going to check up on me? You'd have me suspended?"
"You'd do the same to me, Amanda Stetson. In fact, if I recall correctly, there was a time that you did check up on me. And Billy almost *did* suspend me for not seeing Pfaff. You have no excuses now – we're both re-instated, so it should be easier to get in to see Pfaff. No armed escorts, no explaining things over and over again." Lee thought briefly about Billy's orders to stay away from The Agency for a little while, giving them time to relax and figure out who was harassing Amanda with those notes, but figured there had to be a way around that and help Amanda.
Amanda nodded and let herself be pulled into Lee's arms again. He cuddled her against him until they both fell asleep.
The next morning, while Amanda was in the shower, Lee quietly called Billy to insist on her seeing Pfaff. Billy assured him that it wouldn't be an issue. Because of the decision to have them work at home for a while, Pfaff would be coming to them.
~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK
While Amanda was falling asleep in her husband's arms, and two agents were being relieved in the middle of the night by two more outside a white house in Arlington, a piece of paper was being rolled into an old Royal typewriter somewhere in D.C. The lady at the keys stopped, looked out the window into the night and thought about what she needed to write before a wicked smile spread across her pretty features and she put cotton gloved pressure to the keys.
She thought about the cotton gloves she was wearing – not very old, but well worn, and perfectly suited to their purpose. They're the type of gloves a lady would wear to bed at night after applying lotion or moisturizer to her hands. This keeps the lotion from getting on the bedclothes, and keeps the moisture on the lady's hands to keep them looking young and unwrinkled. It is in this way that they won't get dry and cracked and old looking before their time. Anyone can tell age from the hands, and the younger they look, the less likely that anyone would guess the lady's age. No matter how young or old she may be.
They're also fantastic for not shedding any lint off in unnecessary places.
After a couple of moments and a few keys pressed, she pulled the paper out of the rollers, laughing at her genius. Slowly she read it, once, twice, a third time before folding it in thirds and placing it in a white business size envelope.
Her cotton gloves wouldn't leave a print anywhere she didn't need them too – not on the typewriter, not on the desk.
Her cotton gloves won't leave a print on the paper, and they keep the lotion residue from smearing the newly typewritten words.
Her cotton gloves won't leave a smell or a fiber on the envelope she used to contain the envelope.
Those cotton gloves only get a little wet as she used a sponge to moisten the stamp for the front and the back flap of the envelope to seal it shut.
Those dainty cotton gloves place the letter aside to be hand-delivered by a special courier who will arrive just before dawn, at another location, no questions asked, and when that's done, the lady slowly stripped the gloves off, one finger at a time.
The letter is short, simple and to the point. It should have the intended recipient in tears and riddled with doubts almost immediately. The thought of this made the lady laugh with an almost hysterical quality to it. And as she laughed, she managed to speak the words that she had just typed out…
"Lee Stetson, Jr. wants his daddy."
~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK~~SMK~~~SMK~~~SMK
Amanda picked up the heavy crystal vase her aunt Lillian had given her last Easter and heaved it across the room. Luckily, the weight prevented it from staying aloft for too long, and it broke in large pieces on the carpet, instead of shattering against the wall, which was Amanda's goal. This frustrated her almost immediately, and she started looking around for something else. Lee was frantically trying to get her to calm down, and jumped over the couch before she could reach their wedding picture in the crystal frame that Dotty had placed it in when Lee moved in.
He got to it in time, and moved out of Amanda's way. 'At least she isn't aiming at me,' he thought to himself, just seconds before ducking out of the way of a china collector's plate Amanda had had on the mantle next to the photo. The latest letter had come via special delivery, paid in cash according to the receipt, and was crumpled up in a corner of the room.
"Amanda, this person is obviously lying. They're unhinged. They're trying to get a rise out of you." Lee was hoping that his words would get through her anger. His voice kept rising with each sentence, too. He wanted to get his hands on whoever had the sick mind that was bent on tormenting his wife. And more than anything in the world, Lee would love to have a child, but it wasn't realistic in the jobs that he and Amanda had. And he couldn't imagine having a child with any of the women that he had bedded in the past – the only he wanted to have was one with Amanda. "Who says they're being truthful, Amanda, they've lied so far." 'At least I hope so,' he thought to himself.
This statement seemed to break through the uncharacteristic display of anger Amanda was displaying. She stopped and looked at Lee as if he'd materialized out of nowhere. She immediately sat down on the couch and looked up at Lee. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I've been so dumb. Why have I been doubting you?" She said this last statement almost to herself.
Lee spoke softly, "I've been asking myself the same question, Amanda. Why *have* you been doubting me?"
"I don't know. I don't understand it myself." Amanda looked up at him, almost childlike in her confusion.
"Amanda, when no one else supported me, you were always there. What's happening here?"
"I don't know. You're right. I've always believed in you before, no matter how unbelievable the odds. Why stop now?" Amanda smiled back up at her husband, and reached her hand out for him to hold. She pulled him down to the couch next to her and pulled him into a strong hug. Lee almost felt like Amanda was hanging on to him so that she wouldn't drown.
"Exactly, why stop now." He emphasized the last three words with slight pauses between them. "Come on, Pfaff will be here soon." Amanda looked up at him in surprise as he held his hand out to her. "I called Billy this morning to set up an appointment, and he said he'd send Pfaff to us, as often as you need for as long as we're working at home."
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Becca Dobson stood naked before her full-length mirror, admiring her body not for the first time. She reached over to grab the blue sheath of fabric hanging from the edge of the closet door, and slowly slipped it on. She slowly buttoned up the front, leaving a button open to give a tantalizing view of cleavage to anyone who was interested enough to look. The way the material clung to her body spoke volumes; sins that had not yet been thought of could be committed by the promise held in that dress.
She finished touching up her makeup one last time, and smoothed her hands down the sides of the silky royal blue fabric. She shivered slightly as her hands came back up and rested lightly across her breasts. The blue was just the right color to bring out her eyes, and make them even more outstanding; she agreed with the vision in the mirror that looked back at her.
The dress she wore was lightly lined just enough to wear to work without undergarments, and sexy enough for the activities the night brought. She loved the way the dress felt, silky and warm, holding her as if a lover would. She loved the dress even more when the right hands were unbuttoning the front to release her from its firm hold. 'There's no one person who could resist me in blue. And today will be no different.'
She headed downstairs to get her car for the ride over to The Agency, and the morning staff meeting. When she arrived, every eye was on her, male and female. The men were definitely taking notes and appreciation of her appearance this morning; the women wondered why she even bothered getting dressed to come to work – her reputation as a tramp had preceded her. She walked into the staff meeting a scant two minutes late, and turned a bright smile towards Billy. He just kept going despite the interruption and had no harsh words this morning for the late agent. He seemed more tired than usual, almost defeated, and Becca guessed that that was why he hadn't snapped at her for being late.
As she looked around the table, at the other agents with her, she realized that two seats were empty. 'No Amanda today,' she mused, 'no Lee either.' The thought that Lee was absent bothered Becca slightly, and she scowled without realizing she was doing it. Francine looked across the table at her, and Billy derailed her train of thought by asking what her thoughts were. She passed on commenting; saying simply that it was nothing and for him to continue. 'Good thing, too, considering I had no idea what he was talking about,' she thought to herself, careful to not let her feelings show on her face.
When Billy dismissed the meeting, Francine quickly caught up with her old friend. "Just where do you think *you're* going, Dobson?"
"Just upstairs to do my job, Desmond. What's the problem?" Becca looked her right back in the eye.
"I'm surprised Billy didn't dress you down in that meeting, although you did a pretty good job of that yourself. What's with the outfit?"
"What's wrong with it?" Becca batted her eyelashes coyly at her friend, knowing that it wouldn't work.
"Oh, just that a blind man could tell that you aren't wearing anything underneath it. What's the occasion, Becca? You haven't dressed like that since you the last time you were stalking a new conquest." Francine looked suspiciously at her friend. She remembered that the last conquest she had been after was now happily married to his partner, and not happy at all with the way Becca was acting around him.
"No, of course I haven't. I've been in a god-forsaken nowhere desert halfway across the world where dressing like this would have gotten me raped and killed if I was lucky. Now I can relax and be myself. You've known me for years and years; you know this is the way I am. Come on, Francine, lay off. I just want to cut loose a little, get back to having some fun."
"Desmond! My office! NOW!" Billy's voice boomed out of the bullpen, and into the hallway where the two women had finally made their way. The guards at the entrance of the bullpen were still standing professionally, but their eyes were clearly focused on Becca's chest, and the outline of what could be a dress seam or could be a nipple that was clearly defined in the blue silk.
"We're not done with this, Becca. I've got to go. I'll see you in the Q shortly." Francine turned back into the bullpen, and addressed the guards. "Eyes forward, men." They both straightened up a little more, and refocused straight ahead, after hearing the blond woman's command.
Becca didn't consider their attention being re-diverted to be much of a loss, and decided to take a little walk to occupy her time before heading into the Q. She hadn't seen an old friend of hers from the society pages in a while, and she figured that he might be a little surprised and pleased at her appearance today. She started to whistle a little tune while standing, contemplating her plans, and then started heading off.
One of the guards quietly commented to the other, while still keeping his eyes forward, "Did I just hear her start whistling 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?"
"No, moron," his companion replied. "She was whistling 'Baa Baa Black Sheep'."
