--21--

i

"No, Fred, I'm not discounting your assessment," Lee said, only half-listening to the agent's rundown on his encounter with the CIA substation chief. "But let's see what kind of assets we already have in place before we involve Langley."

Hanging up the phone with a moan of annoyance, he tried to focus on the update to the morning flash data reports, but it was no use. He found his thoughts drifting more and more often to Level Six, where Amanda was in the process of giving her final deposition on the Brimstone affair. He wasn't sure at what point his restlessness propelled him into action, but he soon found himself abandoning his paperwork entirely in favor of walking in large circles.

"Back to your old habits, I see," Francine said, her accompanying chuckle exacerbating his already raw nerves.

"That goes double for you," he said as struck a pose in the doorway. Since her return from her long-overdue vacation, the routine had become almost a daily ritual. "More loot from your Paris trip?" he groaned.

She grinned as she smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her belted sheath dress. "What, this little old thing?"

"And just how much did that 'little old thing' set me back, Francine?"

Her smile widened. "You don't want to know."

To his chagrin, she proceeded to invade his sanctum and ensconce herself behind his desk. "Just trying it out for size, Scarecrow," she put in quickly as his scowl deepened.

"So I see," he grumbled, gripping his cane more tightly.

Francine would be taking over Field Section at the end of the month while he recovered at home from his knee replacement surgery. They had been working together for the past few days to bring her up to speed on the open investigations.

As he began yet another pass around the room, Francine widened her eyes. "You know, if pacing comes with the territory for this job, I'm not going to have to worry about missing my jazzercise classes."

He exhaled loudly. "Yeah, well, you try dealing with Fielder's histrionics on a daily basis. Why Billy didn't scooch the guy years ago, I'll never know. Now he has too much seniority. Then again," he said as she swiveled comfortably in his chair, "maybe you should take over that case right now. Fielder does come with the desk, after all."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Springing up with alacrity, she repositioned herself in the visitor's seat. "Funny, Fred Fielder never once entered the conversation when you asked me to cover for you."

"It's all part of the game, Francine. Administrative One . . ." He sank into the leather chair she'd just vacated and tapped his cane on the floor. "Some days I ask myself what I'm doing here."

"Oh, come on, you love this job."

"I do, actually." He smiled. "It's funny—it started out as means to an end, a way to get Brimstone, but . . . well, don't start thinking this is anything but temporary."

"No worries on that score—I'm perfectly happy up in the Q-Bureau. I just hope I can keep Field Section running semi-smoothly," she added, with a short sigh. "As you may recall, the last time I took over for Billy yielded less than stellar results."

Lee laughed. "Don't mix up the computer allotments with the expense accounts and you'll do just fine."

She wrinkled her nose delicately. "I won't make that mistake again. Johnson gave me a really hard time about returning that forty thousand dollar reimbursement check. He claimed he was entitled to it on general principles."

"Well, he had just put in that new swimming pool, after all. Don't worry, Francine," he said, off her look. "If the orders get typed on the wrong form, I'm only a phone call away."

"Amanda would have my head. You're supposed to be recuperating, remember?"

"Yeah." Lee grimaced. "I think her Bedside Bluebell uniform is already pressed and waiting."

"I'm with her on this one—a little rest will do you good. This place will muddle on just fine for a few weeks without you. Besides, your family needs you right now."

He nodded his agreement. It was one of the reasons he'd consented to have the surgery done sooner rather than later. Pfaff had recommended some intense one-on-one time with Annie, to help her complete the transition. After a lengthy discussion with Amanda, he'd finally agreed to schedule his operation for the Monday after Thanksgiving. That way, he'd be home throughout the holiday season. While he wasn't thrilled with the restrictions his recuperation would place on his relationship with his wife, it would give him an opportunity to spend some real quality time with his daughter.

Francine seemed to read his mind. "How's it going with Annie?" she asked, looking up from the report she was scanning.

"Better. There hasn't been any sleepwalking for almost a week."

"That's good, isn't it?"

He nodded. "What's even better is that Jamie and I took the boat to dry dock for the winter on Sunday, and Annie actually came along—without Amanda."

She lifted her eyebrows. "She really is making progress, then."

"Yeah. She seems to be warming up to me, finally."

"'Finally?'" Francine laughed. "It's only been three weeks, Lee. Hardly a lifetime."

"Seems like it some days. Reliving this Brimstone business . . ." He sighed and shook his head. "It hasn't exactly been a picnic."

Francine frowned. "It must help to finally know the truth, though."

He shrugged. Certainly, in theory, they should both feel better. But over the past three weeks, as the layers of Brimstone's plot had been slowly peeled away, he and Amanda had re-experienced each event with a different kind of agony.

Pushing up out of his chair, he reached for his cane and began to walk a line between the desk and the door. "I keep thinking that if I'd only dug a little deeper, I would have figured out what was really going on. I mean, Amanda and Stevenson sent her picture to the newspapers. If I'd only searched—"

"For what, Lee? We all thought she was dead, and Edith and Herman made sure Amanda's picture only circulated locally, where there was virtually no chance it would be discovered." Francine let out her breath in a loud sigh. "Besides, you were in no condition to investigate anything. Streator made sure of that, as well."

"I appreciate the attempt to deflect the blame, but . . ." Pausing, he raked his fingers through his hair. "I have to take responsibility for my actions, Francine."

"It wasn't your fault that you ran your car into that light pole, Lee. Edith Johnstone's statement has been fully substantiated—one of Streator's operatives spiked your drink that night at Ned's. That's what caused the crash. And that's why your blood alcohol levels were off the charts—"

"Just like Arnold Streator's fatal accident." Lee snorted; he supposed he should find some kind of satisfaction in the fact that Streator had perished in the same trap he'd originally set for him, but he was beyond caring. "I'm still the one who provided them with the opportunity," he said, in a low voice. "If I hadn't been hitting the bottle so hard to begin with—"

"The Agency doesn't see it that way. Dr. Smyth even agreed to expunge the blot on your record."

"That's small comfort, Francine." He shook his head. "This entire mess has turned out to be much convoluted than either Amanda or I ever imagined, back when we first started the hunt."

"I know you like to wrap up your cases into tidy little packages, Scarecrow, but face it—there are simply some questions in this case that we may never have the answers to." Francine sighed. "And in the long run, does it really matter? Isn't it enough to have Amanda back with you again?"

Lee rubbed his forehead, where the beginning of a headache was forming. "It will have to be, I guess. The more I delve into this Brinstone affair, the murkier it becomes."

"I know. Who would have thought that two of the President's own people would risk countless lives by using a terrorist cell to further their political agenda? When you consider that they had the evidence to stop all this—"

"I wish the politicians were the only ones to blame," he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the bullpen in a vacant stare.

Francine uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

He expelled a long breath. Learning he hadn't been entirely responsible for his downward spiral couldn't change what had ultimately happened to Amanda . . . or to him, for that matter. "I'm just as culpable," he said, finally speaking his thoughts aloud. "For all of it. The drinking, the pills, Amanda's torture—"

"Torture is a pretty strong word, Lee."

"I'd say it's pretty damned accurate." His eyes filled with a mixture of anger and guilt. "It happened because I didn't take action . . . because I didn't stop her from working this case."

"What exactly do you think you could you have done? Short of putting her under house arrest, that is. This is Amanda we're talking about here—the woman definitely has a mind of her own."

"I was the senior agent, Francine. And I held the trump card—I knew she was pregnant. It would have only taken one conversation with Billy—"

"And they would have been scraping up what was left of you off the sidewalk."

He turned to face Francine. "Amanda might have been angry at first, but she would have gotten over it. All that time we lost together—all because I decided to bend the rules one last time and let her have her moment in the spotlight . . ."

"Fine," she groaned. "Have it your way. If you feel some karmic need to take responsibility for every bad thing that's happened, I'm not even going to try to talk you out if it. But if you ask me, it's foolish and counterproductive, and I'd wager Amanda would agree wholeheartedly."

"I would?" Amanda asked as she opened the door to Lee's office. "And just exactly what would I be agreeing with, Francine?"

Her face wore a battle-weary look, and he quickly moved to her side. "That I enjoy being right more often than not."

She smiled at Francine as she reached for Lee's hand. "You definitely have a point there," she said, entwining her fingers with his. "Then again, I enjoy it, too, so I can hardly fault him for it."

"I think it's a universal condition." Francine caught Lee's eye as she quickly rose. "And with that in mind, I think I will take these files up to the Q-Bureau to begin my review. Shall we meet back in your office later, to go over them?"

"No, I'll come up to you. I hear it's a beautiful day outside, and I wouldn't mind looking out a window this afternoon."

As Francine departed, Amanda turned to him. "You actually want to look out a window?" She grinned. "Watch it, Stetson. You're exhibiting the unmistakable symptoms of a normal person."

"And loving each and every minute of it." Leaning back against the desk, he searched her face. "So, how did the deposition go?" He couched the question in casualness, attempting to mask the concern he felt at the haunted expression lingering in her eyes.

"It went," she said, flatly. "At least this should be the end of it. The attorneys feel that if all goes as expected, I shouldn't have to testify."

"You were up there much longer than I thought."

She shrugged. "Dr. Smyth had a few pointed questions."

"Damn him anyway. I should have been with you—"

"What would it have changed? Smyth is right—I should have gone after the file that afternoon as we planned, instead of waiting. Or at least told you where I'd hidden it. But when Streator gave me the time off . . ." She sighed. "All I could think about was spending it with you."

"I'm as guilty as you are on that score. I wanted to be alone with you as well." He smiled grimly. "I guess there are valid reasons why married agents aren't allowed to work together, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Hey," he said, capturing her hand and bringing it to his lips. "Don't let Smyth get to you. His days are numbered around here." Scuttlebutt had it that the old man was on the way out. President-elect Clinton wanted to clean house at the top, bring his own people in. If the Agency grapevine could be believed, Billy Melrose would rise even further through the ranks.

"It's not Smyth that's bothering me—not really." She paused for a beat. "Did you hear that Dan Marsten is back in the hospital?"

Lee nodded. "But his prognosis is good. Billy's making arrangements to get him back on that experimental drug of Brimstone's."

"I know. I just wish things weren't going so badly for his mother—"

"I don't. I'm sorry," he added quickly as she frowned. "I know you credit her with saving the children, but I can't feel anything but glad that her sentencing hearing has been moved up. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner this is over and done with, the better."

"They're saying she could get twenty to life, Lee, with no possibility of parole."

"And what about the life she sentenced us to?" His expression hardened. "I walked right by that woman every damn day, Amanda. She saw what your 'death' was doing to me, and to our family."

"A punishment in its own right, wouldn't you say?"

"It's not nearly enough. When I think that she could have prevented all this with just one word—"

"I know, sweetheart. Mrs. Marsten made a really horrific choice . . ." She blew out a sharp breath. "But I guess, with Dan's life on the line, the temptation was just too great. I keep trying to put myself in her shoes, think what I might have done if it had been Annie or the boys—"

"You would never have done the things she did, Amanda, no matter what the cost."

"Who's to say what anyone will or will not do, given the right set of circumstances? We both know how easily an expert at psychological manipulation can orchestrate a desired behavior. Just look at Krutiov—"

"It's not the same thing—"

"I'm not so sure." She frowned thoughtfully. "Sometimes, when people reach their breaking point, they just snap. It may only be for an instant, but in that one hopeless moment, they do the unthinkable, and then it's too late to take it back, no matter how much they may want to. They just get sucked in deeper and deeper . . . In the end, when we needed her, Mrs. Marsten came through. That should count for something. And if Billy hadn't been forced to broker that deal with Edith Johnstone to pull my backside out of the fire, then maybe—"

"Billy made the deal because it was the most expedient way to catch the masterminds behind Brimstone's plot. That we benefited from what happened is beside the point. Besides, those trumped up charges Smyth threatened to file would never have held up in a Board of Inquiry."

"Maybe not, but . . ." She sighed heavily. "I still can't help feeling that Mrs. Marsten is paying the price."

"We're all paying the price for this mess." His hand shot out to halt her pacing. "Some sentences are just more obvious than others, that's all."

"And some are harder to live with."

"I know." He took her hand and rubbed his fingers gently over her knuckles. Brimstone had bequeathed everyone connected with them a set of personal demons; some would be conquered easily, others might take a little longer. "We've survived, Amanda," he told her, his voice growing gravelly and deep, "and our family is together again. When all is said and done, that's what really counts."

Heedless of the agents in the bullpen, she leaned in to kiss him. "You bet it is."

"So . . ." He broke their contact with an effort. "What are your plans for the afternoon?"

"I'm meeting Mother and Annie for a late lunch, and then some shopping," she said, following his lead and lightening the mood. "Mother thinks I need to pick up a few things."

"I agree with her. You've put off your shopping expedition far too long."

"I think it's just an excuse for her to buy me another belated birthday present." Amanda rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you know I'd get my memory back just in time to remember I turned forty last month."

Lee laughed as he let his eyes rake over her appreciatively. "Yeah, you sure look over the hill to me."

"Very funny," she said, smacking him lightly on the arm. "How about getting me an escort out of this joint, Scarecrow?" She tapped her visitor's pass with the tip of her finger. "Since I appear to be a security risk again."

He held open the door with a flourish. "At your service, Mrs. Stetson."

"Personal attention by the Field Section Chief himself," she chuckled as they threaded their way through the busy bullpen to the double doors. "I must really rate."

Laughing, he gave a quick nod to the guard who stiffened to attention as they passed by. "Higher than the President himself, in my book."

As Amanda fell into step beside him, Lee moved his hand automatically to the small of her back. Leaning on his cane, he felt almost no pain, but his movements were stiffer than usual, a fact that did not escape the watchful eyes of his wife.

"I'll be glad when you finally get that knee taken care of," she said as they progressed toward the elevator at a slower than normal pace. "Ten more days . . ."

"The whole thing is a royal pain in the . . . rear," he amended at her slightly raised eyebrow. He'd been trying to set an example for Jamie by cleaning up his language; as Amanda was growing weary of reminding them, their home was not a locker room.

She pushed the button for the elevator. "It won't be so bad, Lee. Think of the silver lining . . ."

"The silver lining's looking decidedly tarnished from where I'm standing." As the elevator doors swooshed open, he shoved the hanging clothes to one side then waited for her to step inside. "Six weeks, Amanda," he groaned, following her. "Six very long, very celibate weeks without so much as—"

"Then we'll simply have to make the most of the time we have before your surgery." Running her hands up his chest, she eyed the camera mounted in the corner and grinned mischievously. "Where does this surveillance feed go?"

"My office. But the night duty agent reviews it regularly."

"Too bad." She stepped away from him with a mock sigh. "You'll never know what you missed, big fella."

"Maybe you can show me later," he said, smiling broadly.

She trailed her fingers down his chest to linger tantalizingly at his belt. "Count on it."

The doors opened again, and Amanda unclipped her badge as they moved into the lobby. "Will you be home early tonight, dear?" she inquired with affected sweetness.

He struggled to hide his grin. "I will now."

ii

"'Your ruby slippers will take you back to Aunt Em," Lee read, a note of fatigue creeping into his voice. "And—"

"You missed a part," Annie said gravely. "And they're not ruby slippers, they're silver shoes."

"You're right." Lee's laugh sounded the tiniest bit guilty. "Now, where was I?"

"The part about the desert."

Lee drew a deep breath and began again. "'Your Silver Shoes will carry you over the desert, replied Glinda. If you had known their power you could have gone back to your Aunt Em the very first day you came to this country.'"

Amanda smiled to herself as she stood at the top of the stairs, surreptitiously listening to the end of Annie's favorite bedtime book. As the child's lilting voice mingled with her husband's gravelly baritone, the words Lee read resonated with new meaning. From Jamie's room next door, she could make out the sound of hushed laughter as her son talked on the phone with a new girlfriend. Downstairs in the kitchen, the muffled noise of her mother mixing her trademark bedtime drink—milk with a splash of Galliano—completed the picture. A feeling of warmth spread through her; coming home was a very good thing indeed.

She turned and made her way noiselessly down the hall to their bedroom. Undressing quickly, she slipped into her nightgown and matching robe, threw open the French doors and wandered outside. She had to admit, with all the luxurious amenities the townhouse had to offer, she enjoyed the view from this deck best of all. The air smelled sweetly fresh, and Amanda tilted her head back to look up at the stars. Though the sounds of nighttime in Annapolis were becoming second nature to her, every now and then she still found herself straining to catch the distinctive sound of water lapping the shore.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

She jumped at the sound of Lee's voice so close to her ear. "You aren't using your cane," she said, suddenly realizing why no sound had heralded his approach. "You know what the doctors said—"

"I hate that thing, Amanda. It's a damned nuisance." Annoyance melted into amusement as he wrapped his arms around her. "It won't let me do this," he whispered, moving his hands over her body.

"Stop it, Lee," she said, with an exasperated chuckle. "I'm trying to be mad at you, and it's pretty difficult to do when you touch me like that."

"Like this?" He laughed breathily as he slid his hands slowly down her legs.

"Exactly like that." Shivering, she stopped his exploration and brought his hands back to her waist. Leaning back into his embrace, she looked up at the sky again. "It's really beautiful, isn't it?"

His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, "Yes, it certainly is."

She let out a guttural laugh. "I was talking about the stars, Lee."

"I wasn't." Hugging her closely, he trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulder, his eager mouth pushing aside first her robe then the thin strap of her nightgown.

"I take it you approve of the spoils of my shopping spree," she said as he fingered the silken material.

He laughed again, the sound making her spine tingle. "Absolutely, Mrs. Stetson."

"You have Mother to thank. I thought it was an unnecessary extravagance," she said, squirming as his mouth grew more insistent.

"I beg to differ. Even though I doubt you'll be wearing it very long, it looks beautiful on you."

Sidestepping his invitation, she spoke in a rush. "I love this spot, don't you? The night's so warm for November, and the stars are so bright. I think that's the thing I liked best about northern Michigan. The night sky always seemed more spectacular without the lights of the city getting in the way."

Blowing out a short breath, he released her and leaned on the railing. "I know what you mean. When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time outdoors, checking out the stars." He snorted. "There wasn't much else to do in some of the backwater places where my uncle was stationed."

"There weren't other children on the base?" she asked, rewarding his efforts with a smile. Lee still hated to talk about his childhood, even with her.

"Sometimes . . ." He shrugged. "It was hard, always being the new kid. I remember the Colonel gave me a telescope for my ninth birthday . . . some sort of consolation prize, I think, for moving again." He pointed up at the heavens. "See those three stars up there? They form Orion's belt. You can see it in the northern hemisphere from October through March."

"You know your constellations. I'm impressed."

"I was really into astronomy for a while." He studied the deck flooring. "I used to hate it whenever Orion appeared in the sky. It meant the holidays were coming . . ."

Amanda felt a pang of guilt at his sharp frown; she appeared to have passed her melancholy along to him. "I'm sorry I'm being such a wet blanket tonight," she said, tightening her lips.

His hand brushed her shoulder. "You're entitled to a bad mood or two."

"Am I really that easy to read?"

"Well . . ." He grinned ruefully. "You barely said two words at dinner."

Nodding, she moved away and let her eyes roam over the backyard. Gurgling noises from the creek behind the property drifted up through the quiet night. "I've got a lot on my mind, I guess," she said at length.

"Are you still disturbed over Mavis Marsten? Because if you are," he added in a rush, "you should know that I talked to Billy this afternoon, told him I'd give a statement on her behalf."

"You did?" she asked, lifting her brows. Lee looked slightly embarrassed—like Dr. Smyth caught doing a good deed.

"Uh, yeah. I got to thinking about what you said earlier, and, well, if you're willing to let go of what happened, then who am I to hold a grudge?"

"Thank you." She attempted a smile. "It may not do any good, but at least we'll know we tried. For Dan's sake, if nothing else. Living with what his mother's done isn't going to be easy for him. He's going to need a lot of support."

"I know." He regarded her closely. "But it's more than the business about Mrs. Marsten that's got you down."

"The phone call from Joe earlier sure didn't help." Tears came to her eyes, unbidden, and she willed them away. "I'm sorry about ruining our holiday celebration . . ." When her ex-husband had announced that he and Carrie were planning a quick trip Stateside next week to see the boys and clear up some pending legal issues, she'd felt compelled to invite them to Thanksgiving dinner.

"Hey, it's not worth crying about." He crossed to her and tenderly kissed her forehead. "I have my wife and my family back. Nothing could ruin this holiday, not even Joe King."

"He's not going to be happy about Phillip's decision to take next semester off from school." She shook her head and sighed. "Joe really seems to want him to finish up at Indiana."

"This isn't about what he wants—it's about what Phillip feels he needs. Parents can't always dictate the terms of their children's lives."

"You're right, of course. It would just be easier to address all these issues without the question of the life insurance getting in the way."

Phillip and Jamie had been the beneficiary designees on her Agency life insurance policy, and Joe had placed the funds into a trust for them for college. Only, now that she was alive, the insurance company needed to be reimbursed. It was merely one of a myriad of details they'd been dealing with over the past few weeks. "I didn't realize coming back to life was such a complicated affair," she moaned.

"It's only money, Amanda. I've already told you, if Joe can't or won't pay Phillip's tuition once he transfers back east, I'll take care of it."

"But you've already done so much . . . covering Jamie's expenses, furnishing the ground floor of the townhouse for Phillip, reopening the house in Arlington so Mother can stay there this winter . . ." She looked at him in dismay. "Not to mention a whole new wardrobe for me and for Annie. And we're going to have to buy another car—"

"Amanda." Reaching out, he traced the curve of her cheek. "Once and for all, money is not a problem. Even if we wait to put the Arlington property on the market, we won't starve."

"But if I'm not working—"

"I make a decent enough living to support all of us. Plus, we have the cushion of the money the Colonel left me." He frowned. "Or am I totally off-base here about why you're upset?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said, not looking at him.

"Do you regret your decision not to return to the Agency?"

"No. We agreed it's best for Annie right now if I don't go back. It's just . . . well . . . it felt so funny to be wearing a visitor's pass again, that's all. After working so hard to prove I belonged there, it's hard to give it up. I loved feeling like I was making a difference in the world."

"You're making a difference right here—"

"It's not the same thing. I feel like I'm right back at square one again, the way things were when we first met. Just a housewife . . ." She sighed.

Lee pulled her into his arms. "You were never 'just' anything, and you know it."

She forced a laugh. "I'm not an amnesiac anymore. I know exactly what you thought of me back then, Stetson. You and Francine both."

He quickly released her. "I was simply trying to say that you don't have to make any immediate decisions about your career," he told her stiffly. "That you had time to find the right direction—"

"I'm sorry, Lee," she murmured as the sting of her words revealed itself on his face. "That was unfair of me. You've been really supportive, and I do appreciate it. It's just all of this," she moved her hand back and forth between them, "you and me, the kids . . . well, it's been more of an adjustment than I imagined, that's all. And this past week, getting ready for my final deposition, going over all the details again . . ."

He stretched a hand out to her then abruptly pulled back as she stiffened. "Is that what's got you so twisted up in knots that you've been standing out here for hours every night this past week? Don't deny it," he said as she inched away. "I'm a light sleeper. I've heard you prowling around."

She scowled. "Then why didn't you say something?"

"I thought I just did. Besides . . ." He shrugged. "I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. But if it's something I've done . . . haven't done . . ."

"No, Lee—you've been absolutely wonderful. Especially . . ." Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at the bedroom. "This is my problem, not yours. I just have to find a way to deal with it, that's all."

As the silence stretched out, he gave her shoulder a gentle nudge. "It might help to talk about it. At least, that's what you're always telling me."

"I always knew those words would come back to haunt me some day," she groaned.

"Churning up all this old business about Brimstone hasn't been easy for me," he told her, keeping his voice low and even. "So I can only imagine that it's been equally hard on you—if not harder."

She looked away. "It's over now."

"On paper, yes." Closing the remaining space between them, he let his hand rest on hers. "But learning to live with it is another matter entirely."

She bent her head. "Even though it all happened a long time ago, the memory of it is only three weeks old. I need a little time, okay?"

"Amanda . . ." Turning slightly, he placed his arms loosely around her waist. "I'm not trying to push. Really. I'll be here for you when you're ready to talk about it."

"And if I'm never ready?" she asked in a small voice.

"What do you mean?"

She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "I mean that as much as I love that you want to help me through this, it might be better . . . easier . . . if I talked to someone else. A professional."

Lee tightened his embrace. "You don't have to spare me, you know."

"What happened to me after our accident . . . well, some of it isn't very pretty."

"Those damned bastards! When I think of them torturing you . . ." His words sputtered off into unspoken fury.

Her body began to tremble, and she willed herself to be still. "The worst torture of all was thinking you were dead," she said, the tremor escaping into her voice.

Pulling his head back, he searched her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Lee. I saw the same thing you did—Brimstone's goons firing those rounds into you . . . your body jerking as the bullets hit, the terror on your face before you lost consciousness . . ."

"I was terrified for you," he said in a throaty voice.

"Just as I was for you. I was almost grateful when I blacked out. At least it made the nightmare stop." She choked back a sob. "But then I woke up and relived it all over again . . ."

He crushed her to him. "Oh, Amanda . . ."

"And I knew that this time, you wouldn't be coming to save me," she continued in a monotone. "I was on my own, so I did the only thing I could to keep them from winning."

"You initiated Harry's repression sequence."

She nodded. "There was no way I was going to let them have access to what I knew about your network or the Agency, for that matter. Those monsters had already killed you, and they were probably going to do the same to me . . ." She laid her head on his shoulder and let out a short breath. "I think that's why I repressed things so deeply, though. Seeing you crumpled on the ground, lying so still, dying . . . If I had to keep reliving that over and over, I thought I'd go crazy." She looked up into his pain-filled eyes. "I don't know how you survived it."

"I almost didn't. If it hadn't been for Dotty—"

"Then I would have regained my memories only to find out that I really had lost you," she said, her voice shaking as she started to tremble once more.

Taking her by the arms, he shook her lightly. "Stop it, Amanda, do you hear me? Don't do this to yourself."

"Don't do what?" she choked out.

"Play the "what-if" game. It'll kill you if you let it. That's one lesson that's been drilled into me all too well these past five years." He gazed over her shoulder, out across the backyard to the distant creek. "I guess maybe you were right," he said, after a beat. "This is going to take some time—for both of us."

"Yeah." She pursed her lips. "People shouldn't have to relearn how to be happy, should they?"

He set his jaw. "No, they shouldn't."

Placing her fingers on his cheek, she gently guided his eyes back to hers and forced a tentative grin. "So, big fella, any ideas about what we're supposed to do in the meantime?"

The beginnings of a smile tipped the corners of Lee's mouth. "We stop dwelling on the things we can't change. Start concentrating on all the good things we have ahead of us."

"I want to do that . . . more than I can say. I'm just not quite sure how, you know?"

"Maybe it isn't something either one of us can do alone. We're together now, with our daughter, our family . . . the way it should have been from the beginning." Tilting his head, he kissed her lovingly. "It's going to be a great future, you know. Even if we have to work a little bit to make it happen."

Hot tears misted her eyes again. She'd said those very words to Joe King once, long ago. She'd been at a crossroads then, just as she was now. Despite everything that had happened, she would never regret her choice to move forward with Lee.

"The good things, huh?" She smiled, putting her sour mood behind her. "Annie wanted you to read her bedtime story tonight. That's a good thing."

"That's a very good thing." His eyes sparkled with unabashed joy. "And it was three stories, actually," he added, his grin extending from ear to ear.

"Three?" She chuckled softly. "I think you've been conned, Daddy."

"I don't mind in the least."

"Good grief . . ." She shook her head in mock horror. "I'm going to have trouble with you this Christmas, aren't I?"

He shot her a sheepish look. "It's our first . . . together."

"Maybe we should buy some stock in 'Toys 'R Us' to recoup our losses," she said, laughing at his enthusiasm for a once-hated holiday. She couldn't really begrudge Lee the privilege of spoiling their daughter. It was a right of parenthood long overdue. "You know, speaking of Christmas . . ." A light of anticipation crept back into her eyes. "I have an early present for you, pal."

"Really?" Lee grinned. "Well, this evening does get better and better."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the tie of his robe and led him back inside, away from the bed and toward the desk. "I was going to wait to give this to you, but . . ." Withdrawing a manila envelope from the drawer, she handed it to him almost shyly. "Thanks to some gentle prodding on Billy's part, this came today. If we're making a pact to look to the future, I think you should have it now."

He slowly opened it, glancing first at the piece of paper then at her, bewilderment and amazement mixing in his eyes. "Amanda . . .?"

"It's Annie's birth certificate," she told him in a low voice. "I had it amended."

"'Lois Anne Stetson' . . ." He caught her eye. "Is Annie going to be okay with this?"

"It may be a little awkward for her at first but she'll get used to it in time. Stetson is her last name, after all. All I did was make it legal. Besides," she smiled and pointed to a line on the document, "I thought you both deserved more than 'father unknown.'"

"I think it's . . . I mean . . ." His voice broke as he placed the paper on the desk with loving care. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she murmured, reaching out to wipe a few stray tears from his cheek. "You know, I'm starting to think maybe you've been on your feet long enough for one night."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, the knee is starting to smart a little."

"I thought so." She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I seem to recall Dr. Scardelli saying something about resting as much as possible before your surgery."

"Mrs. Stetson," he grinned, "is this your subtle way of getting me into bed?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "I didn't think there was anything subtle about it."

He laughed, a rich, deep sound that filled her up inside, and she felt again what she had experienced that night by the Anacostia—the dreamlike suspension as the brilliant colors of her memories exploded around her. Suddenly, they were a blessing, not a burden. This was the bedrock of her life . . . her family safely under one roof, the warmth of Lee's voice, the palpable feeing of his hands on her body. It was what she had been missing for the past five years; now, at last, she had found it again.

"I really am glad to be home, Lee." She touched his face and smiled. "With you."

"Me, too, Mrs. Stetson." Grinning, he drew her with him to the bed. "Me, too."