MORE THAN LUCK

The restaurant was almost full, enough that they had to wait a minute to get a booth. Lee and Amanda stood in awkward silence, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes on everywhere but each other — the floor, the kitschy art on the wall, the stack of menus on the counter by the till. Amanda wondered what she was even doing there, she was so angry at him right then, and then she smelled bacon, and her stomach rumbled and reminded her that dinner had been long ago, a night-time ago, and it was already well past breakfast. She'd been running on rage and adrenaline for hours.

She stole a glance at him as they waited. His chin was dark with stubble, there were dark smudges underneath his eyes. Her heart still skipped a beat when she looked at him, the way it so often did, which only increased her irritation.

This was the old pattern, the one she thought they'd left behind, where he second-guessed her abilities and got angry with her when she followed her instincts. And once again, following her instincts had gotten them out of what could have been an extremely nasty jam.

A table freed up and their usual waitress beckoned to them as she started across the dining room. Amanda followed, her shoulders tense, Lee behind her. His hand hovered at the small of her back, then drew away without touching her.

They slid into the booth across from each other, and Amanda trained her eyes on the menu. She wanted eggs, and decaf, and to sleep all day and not think about how angry she was at him right then.

Silence hung between them. Amanda shifted in her seat, peered out the window, fiddled with the blind beside her. The only words she spoke were to the waitress, who came by with her coffee pot and poured one for Lee, and told Amanda her decaf would be ready in five. Lee didn't speak either. He busied himself adding cream and sugar to his coffee, stirring, and reading the front page of the Coffee Time newsletter over and over again as if it were a security brief.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said finally, after the waitress had come back with Amanda's coffee and taken their orders.

Amanda pursed her lips and looked at him across the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Really."

"Yes. Of course I am. I'm sorry. I overreacted. Again."

"You need to stop doing that," she told him, her voice low.

He closed his eyes momentarily, as if seeking strength. "Amanda, I —" He stopped speaking and pushed out a breath. "You need to stop putting yourself in the middle of —"

"It's part of the job, Lee. if I hadn't you wouldn't be here right now waiting for your eggs."

Lee looked away, laughing a little. He rubbed a weary hand over his face, then sighed. "You're right. But you got lucky, again. What if you don't next time?"

She heard a strange catch in his voice that made her uncomfortable. Amanda looked away, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. "What if you don't?" she said after a minute.

"Amanda." he reached across the table, then, and put his hand on her arm. "Amanda. If I don't, there's no one waiting for me to come home. There are people waiting for you."

His gaze was so intense she almost wanted to look away, but she willed herself not to. Her hand tightened around her coffee cup and she bit her lips for a moment. "There are people waiting for you," she said quietly. "I know of one, at least."

He smiled at her, then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her heart sped up a little but she renewed her resolve not to melt just because he wanted her to. She had a feeling he knew all too well how much power he exerted over her at times.

"I'm serious," she said. "You can't pretend you're on your own anymore. You shouldn't."

The smile vanished for a moment, then returned at seventy-five percent wattage. "Are you saying you'd notice?"

"Of course I would," she said, almost flinching at how hard her voice sounded right then. She knew he heard it because he leaned back in his seat as if it were a physical force. She drew in a deep breath. "Don't joke about it," she said softly, and then the waitress was there with their plates before he could respond.

Amanda sat looking at her food, her throat constricting. She'd been starving a few minutes ago and now she wasn't sure if she'd be able to swallow a bite. She speared a piece of potato with her fork and was just about to lift it to her mouth when he spoke.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, "you're right. I shouldn't joke about it."

She nodded and set the fork down, her eyes on her plate.

"Amanda." Lee's hand caught hers, lifting it from the table, and he uncurled her fingers and kissed the palm. "It's an old habit, and it's a bad one. All my old habits are bad ones."

She blinked, finally looking at him. She wondered if he could see how upset she was, if he'd understand. This wasn't just about the danger he put himself in, it was about the way he didn't seem to trust her sometimes. How he veered from relying on her to discounting her opinion. He'd called what had happened the night before "luck," but it hadn't been. She'd made a calculated decision based on what she'd observed and how she'd been trained, the same way he did.

His thumb was stroking the back of her hand now, as if trying to coax the bad mood out of her.

"It wasn't luck," she said.

"What?" The thumb stopped moving.

"It wasn't luck last night. When I pulled the alarm I knew what would happen. I saw the schematic for the security systems before we went out there, and I knew those fire doors would lock and Radochov would only have one way out but we'd have three."

He blinked, surprised, and she drew her hand away. "Oh."

"You wouldn't call it luck if Francine had done it," she said. She picked up her fork again and ate the piece of hash brown.

He sighed, then ducked his head. He poked at his eggs for a minute, breaking the yolks in a way he liked but that made her queasy. "No, you're right," he said finally.

"Why do you do it?"

Lee shook his head. His eyes darted around the room for a moment, and then finally lit on her face again. "I don't know. I forget sometimes that you're not new at this anymore. I forget about how much you know, from being in the field and from all the training you're getting. It's not luck, you're right. And you do have good instincts."

Amanda nodded, spreading jam on her toast.

"But you also have a nose for trouble, and it scares the hell out of me sometimes." He settled in his seat. "Especially now." He gestured to the space between them, as if their relationship were a tangible thing, like the table or the carafe of maple syrup.

"So now that you've seen me naked a couple of times you forget I can do my job?"

Lee laughed. "If you remind me I've seen you naked I pretty much forget everything."

She felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, and the tension she'd seen in his shoulders finally dissipated.

"I worried about you staying safe long before that. You know that."

Amanda nodded. "I guess."

"And you know I think you're smart. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met."

'And?"

"And the kindest, and the bravest, and the most beautiful."

She started to laugh, against her better judgement. She hadn't been looking for a string of compliments but she was tired, and suddenly tired of being angry with him.

"Look, sometimes I live up to my codename and act like I've got no brains whatsoever, and I'm sorry for that. Okay? I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Okay."

"Now let's eat and get some sleep," he said. "Billy promised not to call either one of us until at least four o'clock."

After breakfast, full and sleepy, she settled into the passenger seat of the Corvette. She had just buckled her seatbelt when he unclipped his and opened his door. "I forgot something," he said. "Just a second."

She watched him jog across the parking lot and back into the building. He hadn't brought anything with him, so what could he have forgotten? Amanda leaned her head back on the seat and watched the door, sleep nibbling at the edges of her vision. Her eyes were about to close when he came out again, a white take-out box in one hand.

"Here," he said, when he slid back into his seat. He handed her the box.

"What's this?"

"Apple pie." He leaned across the gearshift and gave her a long kiss, the kind he usually saved for quiet dinners at his place or the vault in the Q Bureau.

When they drew apart he turned the key in the ignition, smiling at her a little. "Where to? Should I drop you and your pie at home?"

"No one's expecting me until tonight," she said, still trying to catch her breath.

He grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded at the container in her hands. "I bought two pieces, just in case. And I have a tub of vanilla ice cream in my freezer."

"Sold," she said, laughing.

He flipped the car into reverse but didn't back out right away. He leaned across the gearshift to kiss her again, his stubble scratching against her chin. "Speaking of luck," he said, "I'm definitely the lucky one here."