Monday, August 31, 1987

5:06 a.m.

It was early morning when I began to stir.  In the fuzzy limbo somewhere between sleeping and waking, my surroundings seemed alien, even hostile.  I reached for Lee, to snuggle against his comforting warmth, but he wasn't beside me.  As I jerked into a sitting position, I suddenly realized it was the absence of his breathing that had startled me awake.

The feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming.  "Lee!" I cried.  "Where are you?"

"Right here."

I exhaled loudly.  It wasn't like the last time; he hadn't vanished without a word.  "Come back to bed," I said, the relentless arms of fatigue tugging at me as I lay down.  "It's not morning yet." 

"I don't want to disturb you."

"Hey, you can disturb me all you want, pal," I said, with a sleepy laugh.  "I don't mind."

When he didn't answer, I shook off my drowsy fog and rolled over.  In the low light from the bathroom, I could see Lee standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out onto the compound's wooded grounds.  He made no sound; only the slight rise and fall of his chest told me he was breathing.

"Are you okay?"  Concern warred with alarm as I took note of the too-rigid lines of his body. 

"Not really." 

It was as if the words were coming from a stranger.  He must have heard me get out of bed to go to him, because he immediately turned.  "Please don't."  His flat, unemotional tone held me at arm's length.  "This is already difficult enough."

I swallowed hard.  "What time does Billy come?"

"A little before nine." 

"So soon?"  I looked at the clock on the nightstand.  "I thought we'd have most of the day, at least."

"Billy wants to move as quickly as possible.  They've already had her for over thirty-six hours, Amanda."

Crawling back into bed, I drew the covers tightly around me.  Images and feelings crowded into my mind again, thick and fast.  That barren room, its walls painted white . . . the ache in my lower back from hours of standing . . . the wooly sensation that hit on the second full day without sleep.  For a hostage, thirty-six hours felt like thirty-six lifetimes. 

At length, Lee walked back to the bed and sat down.  His eyes swept over me, looking but not really seeing.  His voice sounded oddly mechanical as he informed me that there were some things we needed to talk about.

"Yes?"  I couldn't say more; the air in the room seemed unusually thin. 

Lee chose to study the woven pattern on the blue cotton blanket instead of meeting my eye.  "The lease on my apartment is up at the beginning of October.  The management company should be sending the renewal notice soon." 

"I'll take care of it."

"The furniture . . ."

"What I can't fit into the house, I'll put in storage."

"I've made arrangements with Billy to give you access to my Agency bank accounts.  He'll have some papers for you to sign."

"Okay."  I agreed quickly to keep my voice from cracking.  My husband was drawing away from me a little more with each word, and I didn't know what to do about it.

"There are other personal accounts, too, and emergency funds."  His demeanor was matter-of-fact, as if ticking off some mental checklist.  "You can find the information in our safe deposit box at the bank, along with the registered copy of our marriage license."

I nodded, barely able to process the information.  It seemed wrong somehow that the sum total of our lives could be reduced to leases, bank accounts and legal documents.  For the first time, I realized why Lee had found it easier to walk away without a word.  This conversation seemed irretrievably final.

He must have managed to read my mind because, for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man I loved beneath that icy, professional mask.  "It's for the best, Amanda.  At least this way, you and the boys have a chance for a normal life."

Tears filled my eyes; I shook them off and reached for him.  "I don't want a normal life, Stetson."  My thumbs combed through his soft whiskers as I cupped his cheeks.  "Haven't you figured that out by now?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  Something passed across his face instead, some emotion so elemental I could barely put a name to it.  It caused his whole body to tense, his arms becoming so rigid they shook.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, the battle within put to rest.  Blindly, he reached for me and, in one convulsive motion, pulled me into the warm cavern of his embrace.  "I thought it would be easier," he said, his words a soft moan in my ear.  "I thought, if I distanced myself, it wouldn't hurt so much."

"I know."  Stroking my hands across his back, I murmured other words of comfort, whether for his benefit or mine, I wasn't quite sure.  I only knew that I didn't want him to leave, didn't want him to put himself in that kind of danger again.  I thought of Phillip and Jamie, of what Lee had come to mean to both my sons, and of the tiny life inside me, the son or daughter who might never get the chance to know its father.  And, lastly, selfishly, I thought of myself, of how much I loved and needed my husband.  I could stop him from leaving, I knew; it would only take two simple words.  Words that seemed to take on a life of their own as they tried to force their way out of my mouth . . . 

But I wouldn't let them.  Though there were reasons enough for him to stay, none was more compelling than the one forcing him to go.  Francine Desmond was a comrade and a friend; I could no more turn my back on her than Lee could, especially since my actions, however unwitting, had landed her in the middle of hell.

"I'm so sorry," I said at last, my tone as frayed as my nerves.  "If only I hadn't pirated Francine's clearance code to run that search—"

"That's enough."  Grasping my shoulders, he forced me to meet his gaze.  He'd darkened his hair and beard again last night, and, for a moment, I almost didn't recognize him.  But there was no mistaking that voice.  "I won't have you blaming yourself for this."  

His words demanded a response, but I couldn't give it.  Lee's reassurances to the contrary, I was once more acutely aware of the terrible impasse I'd created. 

"Stop it, Amanda, do you hear?"  He shook me lightly.  "This is not your fault.  You were only doing what I taught you to do."

The skin on my forehead crinkled as I frowned.  "Break the rules?"

A sardonic smile curled his lips.  "I prefer to think of it as bending them a bit.  It's necessary sometimes."

I shivered.  "Somehow, I don't think Dr. Smyth would see things quite that way."  Not only had I used a code level I had no clearance for, I'd compromised a fellow agent in the process.  I forced a laugh.  "Tell me, do they allow conjugal visits in federal prison?"

Lee's hazel eyes narrowed speculatively.  "Let's not find out.  Smyth is an ass.  He'd take great pleasure in nailing you to the wall, simply to get to me.  Don't give him that chance.  No matter how good they say confession is for the soul, it doesn't apply in this instance.  Not even to Billy.  Understood?"

I cast my eyes downward.  "But Francine—" 

"I'll get her out of this.  It's not too late.  If Arbaalk went to the trouble of snatching her, they don't intend to kill her.  Not right away."

My mouth went dry.  The alternative Lee presented was hardly reassuring.  That soft, accented voice in my head seemed to agree.  "Break the body to break the mind," he whispered, a prurient chuckle underscoring his words.  My heart pounded and my hands grew clammy.

"Amanda."  Lee's voice sifted through the swirling fog in my head.  "She's a trained agent.  She knows the score—same as we all do."

I breathed deeply, willing the physical sensations away; I could almost feel Birol's hands on my skin.  Yes, we all knew the score . . . some of us better than others.

Lee warmed my cold hands in his.  "There's one more thing you can do for me," he said, his voice growing even more serious.

"I was already planning to call the Colonel," I told him, avoiding his eyes.  "It doesn't seem fair that my family knows about our marriage while he's still in the dark."

"Amanda."  Lee squeezed my hands.  "I wasn't talking about the Colonel, and you know it.  I'm talking about these flashbacks you've been having—"

"I haven't been having flashbacks."  I struggled to keep the shudder from my voice.  "Only a few bad moments . . . here and there."

"Yeah," Lee snorted, "and I'm the head of the Agency.  Don't even try to fool me, Amanda.  I can tell by your reaction yesterday that this has been going on for some time.  I think you should talk to Pfaff again."

It was my turn to study the view from the window.  I extracted my hands from his and padded across the room, rubbing the gooseflesh from my arms.  The first hints of light were beginning to streak the sky, casting everything in an orange glow.  It was going to be another sunny day.  "I can deal with this," I assured him.  "I've got it under control."

His skeptical laugh echoed in my ear as he crept up behind me.  "You really have picked up all my bad habits, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Turning me, he tilted my chin up and forced me to meet his eye.  "Look, Amanda," he scolded sweetly, "if there's one thing you've managed to teach me, it's that you don't have to deal with your problems alone.  There are professionals at the Agency who can help you put this into perspective.  Let them."

I pressed my lips together.  Though I was little inclined at the moment to take anything the Agency had to offer, I could hardly refuse him.  "Okay.  If it will make you feel better, I'll talk to Dr. Pfaff."

"I think it will make you feel better.  Trust me on this, okay?  I need to know you're going to be all right." 

"I'll be all right as soon as you come home."  Ignoring the cold knot in my stomach, I concentrated on keeping my voice from shaking.  "How long—"

"As long as it takes."

He slipped his arms securely around me, cradling my head against his chest.  We stayed that way for a while, watching the sky grow lighter inch by inch outside our window, silently accepting what neither of us had the courage to say out loud.  The circumstances of the mission hadn't changed, just because Francine was in trouble.  The odds still said he wouldn't come back. 

I closed my eyes, listening to his heart thump in my ear, so strong and alive.  But the sound that often lulled me to sleep brought no comfort now.  The rapid beats seemed to tick off the time like some internal dead man's watch, its lethal mechanism relentlessly measuring what might turn out to be the last hours, minutes and seconds we'd ever spend together. 

I pushed out of his embrace.  My wild eyes sought his, but there was no solace in them, just the burning reflection of my own dread.  We stared at each other for a beat.  Then, without a word, he pulled me to him again.  As the sun's light at last filled the morning sky, his mouth met mine.  It was the searching, demanding kiss of a guilty lover . . . a lover who had already lost too much time.