This was originally posted to the gsfic mailing list in serial form. It's a little more on the dramatic side than most of my Get Smart stories and takes place in 1980 shortly after The Nude Bomb. Basically, it's my attempt to explain how the movie fits into the overall Get Smart saga, deriving largely from Max's line in the film, "I don't know what you may have heard about me but I'm not easy." - ChrisR.
"Daze of Our Lives"
1
Zachary Smart flung open the door to his sister's room and bounded inside yelling at the top of his voice.
"Maxine! Wake up! It's finally here!"
Maxine Smart sat up in bed, yawning; a serious-faced girl currently burdened with a prodigious case of pillow hair.
"What's here?" she asked groggily.
"My birthday, silly," Zach laughed with all the exuberance of childhood.
Maxine rolled her eyes. "I know it's your birthday. It's my birthday, too."
Zach suddenly turned quiet. "Do you think he'll come?"
"He said he would, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"He's never let us down before, has he?"
"No," Zach admitted, "but him and Mom haven't talked since they had that big fight and - "
"He and Mom haven't talked," Maxine corrected.
"That, too. And he's never been to see us in our new place."
Maxine knew this was true. They hadn't known what the fight had been about but their parents hadn't spoken more than necessary to each other since. And the next morning their mother had packed them up and taken them to a new apartment clear across town. She and Zach each had their own room now but it was not as cozy as the place they had all lived in together. Some time after that their father had moved into a new condo and while they had sometimes spent the weekend with him there, he had never visited them here. But it was their birthday and he'd promised.
"He'll come," she said.
2
"Sit down, Max,"
Max sat.
Maxwell Smart, secret agent 86 . . . of PITS. Somehow that still didn't sound right. He glanced around the office into which he had been summoned. Max put up a good front but for as long as he'd been working for the Provisional Intelligence Tactical Service its sterile rooms and corridors had never been home like the warm, wood-panelled walls of Control.
"What is it, Chief?"
Over the years, Max had become used to calling this man 'Chief' but he regretted the fact that they had never been able to establish a close relationship like the one he had shared with his old chief. Being in the presence of this taller man sometimes even made him feel physically uncomfortable. They never quite saw eye to eye.
"I'm afraid it's bad news."
"They're not serving sushi for lunch in the cafeteria again, are they, Chief?"
The Chief flinched. The muscles in his arm, resting on the desk, flexed. He clenched and unclenched his fist. Ignoring Max's question, he plowed on.
"There's no easy way to say this, Max. I've been informed that, effective from Inauguration Day next January, PITS will cease to exist. The new administration feels that there's no longer any need for us."
Truthfully, Max was not surprised. He'd heard the gossip like everyone else. The imminent demise of PITS had been the subject of speculation around the watercooler for months now - second only to Who Shot J.R.? Still, the sudden reality of it left him stunned. "Why?" he gasped, though he knew the answer.
"It seems we've been too successful for our own good," the Chief replied with a hint of bitterness. "There hasn't been a peep out of Kaos since you and 22 destroyed Saint Sauvage's headquarters six months ago. Their operatives have scattered and even their financial backing seems to have dried up."
Max nodded dimly. The day he had feared almost his whole career had finally arrived. "I don't suppose we could get together and raise some money to keep Kaos going a few more years."
"Certainly not."
"I didn't think so." The old chief hadn't gone for the idea either. "What about the agents?"
"I'm trying to find places for some of them but," the Chief shrugged, "spying is a young man's game these days. There's no place for a couple of old warhorses like us."
Ordinarily, Max would have objected to being called an old warhorse but he was only days away from turning fifty and he was starting to feel every minute of it. Maybe it was time he was put out to pasture.
"Try to think of it this way," the Chief urged. "We've made the world a safer place and now our job's done. And -" He smiled faintly. "- there is one other bright spot."
"What's that?"
"At least we'll be seeing the last of that blasted peanut phone."
Max forced a laugh but his mind was elsewhere. He was struck by a strong sense of deja vu. Six years earlier, the old Chief, Thaddeus, had called him into his office to tell him that Control was to be deactivated. Control had long struggled against budget cuts and now another new president had decided to finally put the agency out of its misery.
A few of the old gang including himself, his friend Agent 13 and Larabee, the Chief's assistant, had been transferred to PITS as had their mission to fight Kaos. Inexplicably, Agent 99, his wife - and partner for almost a decade, hadn't made the cut. Neither had Hymie the Control Robot. He'd lost touch with Hymie. Max supposed that he should call or write but somehow there never seemed to be enough time.
Thaddeus had been forced into retirement. He had been due to retire three years earlier anyway but had somehow always found an excuse to stay on. This time there had been no reprieve. Not long after that he'd passed away and Max had lost his mentor, father figure and best friend. No, not 'best friend'. That title belonged to 99 as well. Or it had - until someone started that damned rumor.
3
99 stared out of the window down at the street, idly wondering if Max would drive up in that deskmobile she'd heard about. She knew about PITS but had never been there, having lost her security clearance along with her life as a spy when Control had been deactivated. Max had kept her informed as much as he could but there were always things she wasn't supposed to know and she could see that it hurt him not to able to share.
At first she had thought she might enjoy being a full-time wife and mother but it wasn't long before she felt the need for the hustle and bustle of outside activity. At thirty-three, she'd been considered too old to go back to modeling, not that she'd really wanted to, and a succession of part time jobs had proven unfulfulling - until a stint working for the E.R.A. campaign gave her a new direction. Lately she'd begun dabbling in local politics and thought there might be a future there where she could make a difference.
"The tramp's coming with him? How sophisticated we're being."
99 turned away from the window. Her mother was in the midst of baking a birthday cake for the twins. 99's own cooking had improved tremendously. Under her mother's tutelage, she had progressed from the days when she couldn't even make a decent cup of coffee to the point of being able to prepare stunning meals at short notice. Still, her mother had insisted on doing everything today.
"She's not the one, Mother. Max didn't even meet her until after . . . " She trailed off. Her mother knew the story. It was an old one, she'd said: Boy Meets Girl, Boy Meets Another Girl. But it wasn't an old story to 99; it wasn't supposed to happen to her.
She'd lost her security clearance but she still had some contacts, so-called friends who were only too willing to tell her some of the things that Max didn't. For instance, she'd known about a certain Agent 69, a man-chasing hussy with too much eye makeup (she'd been told), who'd partnered with Max on a mission to Las Vegas. When they got back, rumors of their extracurricular activities were all over the agency.
99 still knew enough about shadowing - those Lamont Cranston awards were not for nothing - to track her down and confront her but all she got for her trouble was a condescending smile and the information that 69 could do whatever she wanted.
She and Max had had a terrible fight that night - the worst they'd ever had. He'd been rattled, blindsided and lapsed into a string of that sometimes lovable, always frustrating doubletalk of his. He'd even tried that 'I can explain anything I mean everything' line but she'd had none of it. The next morning she'd moved out and taken the kids with her.
She'd heard later that Max had a new partner, Agent 22, and that they were seeing each other. She'd heard that 22 was a nice girl. Somehow that hurt even more.
"The bum's still married; she's still a tramp," her mother pronounced.
A smile flickered on 99's face. "You haven't called him that since our wedding day."
Max had arrived very late that day. Everyone had thought he was letting 99 down, standing her up, when the truth was that he'd first had to escape from being held captive by Kaos. Although never privy to the details of just who those violently inclined interlopers were who had followed so closely behind him, 99's mother had nonetheless intuited the scale of the battle that he had gone through to get there and had virtually idolized him as a son-in-law from then on. It was with a sense of disappointment now, almost equal to her daughter's, that she answered, "That's because that's when he proved himself trustworthy."
And that's when it flashed unbidden across 99's mind: Maybe he will again.
4
As it happened, Max was not driving the desk. Its inkwell had run dry and the latest shipment of the special Saudi Arabian inkfuel that powered it was being blockaded somewhere in the Middle East while the Iranian hostage crisis dragged on. Besides, it had no passenger seat and 22 refused to ride perched on top no matter how cute Max told her she looked up there.
In a concession to his own looming crisis - one of the midlife kind - Max had recently splurged on a zippy new Japanese sports car. His immediate concern now was how he was going to make the rest of the payments without a spy's salary.
"I might be able to help you with that," 22 said.
Max looked at her and away from the road a moment. "That's very nice of you, 22," he answered, "but I couldn't take your money. That wouldn't be right."
"That's not what I meant. I've been thinking about this for some time. If I moved into your condo we could both save on expenses."
"You're looking for a roommate?"
"Not exactly. I had something a little more personal in mind."
Max's eyes widened. "You mean live in sin?"
"It's the eighties now. People are doing it all the time."
"I don't do it all the time."
"As far as I know, you don't do it at all." 22 retorted.
"I told you when we met that I wasn't easy," Max recalled.
"I know. I just didn't know it would be this difficult." 22 paused, regretting the outburst. "You said you never fooled around during a case and I accepted that. Then you said we'd get together after the mission - definitely. I know you'd just gone through a painful breakup but it seems like ever since then you've been putting me off with one lame excuse after another. I thought you might feel a little more comfortable about it if we started living together first."
"What do you mean by lame excuse?"
"Anything that starts with 'would you believe'."
"I'm sorry, 22, but I just can't deal with all this right now. There's just too much going on."
They drove on in silence for a few minutes until Max said, "I wonder if Larabee is looking for a roommate."
22 gave him a bemused look. "You'd rather live with Larabee than live with me?"
"No, I just -" He broke off as he suddenly grasped her implication. "No, of course not. It's just that he's just lost his job, too. As it is, I don't know where he's been spending his nights since his marriage broke up. When I asked him about it he just walked away mumbling something about special orders."
"I'm sure he'll be fine."
Max shook his head slowly. "You never know with Larabee."
22 stared at him, his attention now concentrated on the road ahead. Norman Saint Sauvage, the Kaos villain they'd faced together, may have been an evil, soulless clone with a preposterous plan for world domination but he'd been right about one thing: Max was a strange man. She'd been attracted to him (Max, not Saint Sauvage) from the day they'd first met but even now she couldn't have told you why. She'd been widowed for nearly five years by then, having rebuffed the advances of numerous would-be suitors none of whom had measured up to the memory of the man universally revered as 'the late, great Agent 78'. But there was something different about Max. Such a bundle of contradictions; worldly-wise superspy one minute, innocent little boy the next. And now genuinely concerned for a man he normally only showed ridicule and contempt. She doubted she would ever really figure Max out but she was willing to spend however long it took trying.
Max stopped the car. "We're here."
There was an elevator in the lobby and they soon found themselves on the second floor. The apartment was directly across the hall. Max rang the bell and before long the door opened and there was 99.
Suddenly he was flustered and tongue-tied. "99," he said, sounding as though he was surprised to see her.
"Yes."
"Er, we're here for the birthday party."
"Yes."
"Oh. Where are my manners? 99, this is 22. Er, 22, this is 99."
"I'm pleased to meet you," said 99, the irony of the formality not lost on anyone.
"Likewise."
"99 and 22," Max said nervously. "That's a hundred and eleven."
"One hundred and twenty-one," both women said in unison. Then they looked at each other. Then they laughed.
Max looked from one to the other uncertainly, feeling that something significant had just happened but not being sure quite what.
5
The twins watched the encounter from their vantage point at the top of the stairs before Maxine first touched a finger to her lips and then used it to point to the bedroom door. Zach followed her in.
Maxine shook her head. "Another number," she said. "I can't figure it out."
"Grandma says that 86 and 99 are Mom's and Dad's pet names for each other."
"But she hasn't met Uncle 44 and Uncle 13 and all the others."
"Not all their friends have numbers," Zach pointed out.
"I know," Maxine replied. They'd gone through this again and again without ever coming to a solution. "There's Uncle Larabee and Uncle Chief and - "
Zach laughed. "That's a silly name."
"I think they must call him the Chief because he's their leader or something."
"No, I meant Larabee."
Maxine knitted her brow. Uncle Chief. There was another mystery. Uncle Chief had been like a grandfather to them - until one day he'd just stopped coming. When they asked their parents about him they just looked sad. At least that was something compared to the odd way they usually had of denying that their friends ever existed - even though they'd been visiting only minutes before. Then there was that one time another man had come to the apartment and they'd said he was Uncle Chief. Like we couldn't tell the difference, Maxine thought in disgust.
"But the ones without numbers still call the others by their numbers," Zach went on. "That must mean they're in on it."
Maxine nodded. "You're right," she agreed. "It's like there's some big secret only the grownups know." She frowned again. "Except for Grandma."
Zach smiled to himself.
Maxine looked at him. "What?"
"When I grow up, I'm going to have a number, too."
"Anybody home?"
The twins looked up and ran to their father who was standing in the doorway.
"Merry Christmas," Max said playfully, handing them each a present.
The twins giggled.
"It's not Christmas, Dad," said Zach.
"No?"
"It's our birthday." He turned to his sister, suddenly unsure. "Isn't it?"
"Your birthday?" Max repeated in mock surprise. "So, how old are you now? Forty-two?"
"We're eleven," Maxine told him solemnly.
"Eleven," Max marveled, his mind taking him back to that long ago day when he and 99 had barely managed to get to the hospital in time while being hotly pursued by a trio of vicious Kaos agents. Funny; it only now occurred to him how much the Kaos leader resembled the man who had given him this morning's bad news. "You know, they didn't let fathers in the delivery room when you were born the way they do now." He paused, remembering the moment when the nurse had told him he was the father of twins - and even the Kaos agents had been so happy for him that they'd stopped punching him long enough to shake his hand. "Your mother was there, though."
The twins giggled again.
"Yes, well, ah, of course your mother was there. What I mean is: I knew everything would be all right because I knew she wouldn't let anything bad happpen." He enveloped them both in a hug.
A discreet cough announced 22's presence as she entered the room. "I hope I'm not interupting," she said. "I thought I should come up and meet the rest of the family."
"Good idea," Max said. He turned back to the children. "Kids, this is my, er, friend, 22."
Zach snickered. "Girlfriend, you mean."
Maxine didn't like the direction this was headed. "Don't be silly, Zach. Daddy can't have a girlfriend when he's married to Mommy. Right, Daddy?"
Max smiled warmly at her. "That's right, sweetheart."
Next to him, 22's face clouded momentarily as she gave him a sideways look. Max remained oblivious, as did Zach, but little escaped Maxine's notice.
"So," she said sweetly, "should we call you Aunt 22?"
6
Max entered the living room to the rather unsettling sight of 22 already there with 99 and her mother. 22 and 99's mother shared the sofa while 99 was seated in an armchair. No one was screaming and no one's hair was being pulled which Max judged to be a good sign.
"Sorry about that," he said, seating himself in the second armchair. "I didn't mean to leave you all here alone for so long."
"No," said 22, "you should spend as much time with your children as you can."
"We've been having a nice little chat," said 99's mother.
"You have?" Max answered dubiously.
"Yes, this young lady has been telling us how much help you've been to her at the greeting card company."
"The greeting card company?" The cover story he had been using continuously for the past thirteen years seemed to have somehow suddenly slipped his mind but a meaningful look from 22 jogged his memory. "Oh, yes, of course. The greeting card company."
Max was the only one still using the old Control cover, 99 knew, yet when her mother had asked about it 22 had responded without missing a beat. It felt strange to realize that she now shared with 22 secrets that she kept even from her own mother.
"She said they were going out of business," 99 said. "I was very sorry to hear that." So PITS was going under just as Control had before it. Max must be devastated. She sought his eyes but he and 22 were exchanging glances again.
"Uh, yes, that's right," he said finally.
99 felt a pang of jealousy. It should have been her giving meaningful looks to Max. What else she and 22 may now share besides government secrets didn't bear thinking about. Yet she couldn't find it within her to hate this personable young woman who after all was really not responsible for the situation in which she found herself. Evidently, her mother felt the same way: Despite her scathing remarks earlier, there were the three of them chatting amiably away. Suddenly it hit her that now Max and 22 were the couple and she the intruder in her own home.
"Would anyone like some coffee?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and quickly made her way down the hall to the kitchen.
"Are you all right?" Max had followed her in.
She turned on him. "Of course I'm not all right, Max," she railed. "How can I be all right when I see you calmly moving on with your life when I'm not the one who did anything wrong?"
"But I'm not calm," Max objected. "I mean I'm not moving on. I mean I didn't do anything wrong either. I've tried to tell you that a million times."
99 looked confused. "Which one?"
"Er . . . the last one. The one where nothing ever happened between me and 69."
"Well, she seems to think otherwise."
"69 never said we slept together. That was just some of the guys kidding around after we got back from Las Vegas."
"I tracked her down, Max. I confronted her. She as much as admitted it to me."
"As much as?"
"She didn't deny it."
"Well, then, that proves it!"
"Proves what?" she asked guardedly.
"Well, you've heard of 'plausible deniability'. That's for something that really did happen. But since you say 69 gave you an implausible non-denial, then that must mean it didn't happen."
99's eyes rolled in exasperation. "That's ridiculous even for you, Max."
"Really? I think I've said more ridiculous things than that before."
99 was not about to be sidetracked. "Why wouldn't she deny it if it wasn't true?" she demanded.
Max looked downward. "You know how it is. Sometimes you just like to have people believe you did something you're not really capable of doing." He stared at her blank expression. "Okay, maybe you don't know how it is. After all, there's nothing you can't do. You're perfect."
99's eyes filled up. "Max! That's a terrible thing to say."
"I meant it as a compliment," he protested.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be the perfect one? The dependable one? The one who's always right? No, of course you don't."
Max wasn't sure but he had the vague inpression that he'd just been insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"And everyone always saying, 'What's she doing with him?'"
Max opened his mouth to answer then closed it again as he contemplated this. Another beat, then he frowned. "Who says that?"
"Never mind, Max. Just forget it."
"You once accused me of fooling around with Dr. Canyon," Max reminded her. "And then you and she became good friends."
"Let's just leave Laurel out of this," she snapped.
"All I'm trying to say is - "
"I know what you're trying to say, Max. I jumped to a conclusion and I was wrong." She stopped abruptly as she realized what she'd just said and the meaning of her own words sank in. She hesitated. "Just let me think about it, okay?"
In the living room, where their raised voices had clearly carried, 22 sat motionless with a stunned expression on her face.
99's mother put her hand on the younger woman's. "You see how it is now, don't you, dear," she said gently.
22 remained frozen, her eyes big and fixed in front of her.
"My, look at the time," 99's mother said suddenly. "I'm late for my bridge game." With that she was up and out the front door leaving 22 alone with her thoughts.
In the upstairs bedroom, the sound of voices was too muffled for the twins to make out words but the change in mood was clear enough.
Maxine hugged her knees to her chest. "It won't be long now," she said softly.
7
Max reentered the living room to find 22 sitting alone on the sofa.
"Where's 99's mother?"
"She said she was late for a bridge game," 22 replied distantly.
"Bridge game?" Max repeated in a puzzled tone. "She doesn't play bridge. Now, canasta . . . "
22's eyes focused. "Tell me something."
"What is it?"
She stood up. "Do you really see a future for us?"
"Future?"
"As a couple."
"Future. You mean the stuff that happens after today. Well, I haven't had time to read my horoscope yet, but - "
"Cut the crap, Max."
Max raised his eyebrows at the profanity but stayed silent. 22 talked. She knew now what she had to do.
"I've gotten to know you pretty well over the last six months. You're an honorable man - honorable to a fault. I know that when you start blathering like an idiot like that it's because you can't lie to me to my face. Good grief, you're not even comfortable telling your cover story to your mother-in-law!"
Max's face took on a sheepish aspect at this as 22 continued, her voice remaining steady. "You'd never deliberately lead me on but something's been holding you back. I didn't know what it was before - maybe I just didn't want to see it, maybe you didn't even see it youself - but I think we both see it now. You can't lie to me but your problem is you can't tell me the truth either because you're afraid you'll hurt me. So I'll say it for you." She took a breath, determined to keep her composure. "The reason why nothing has ever happened between us, why nothing ever will happen between us, is that you still love 99."
There. It was out.
"I always will," Max admitted.
"That wouldn't have stopped everyone."
"I guess I'm just a one-man woman . . . er, make that one-woman man."
22 smiled at him. "Like I said, honorable to a fault." But there was something more, she knew that now. Something she hadn't believed truly existed but now recognized for what it was - even if Max in his charmingly obtuse way, and 99 who wore her insecurities on her sleeve, as yet did not. The word was kismet. And 22 was on the wrong side of it. She gave him a long, lingering look. "Do you remember how we met?"
"Of course," Max replied. "The Chief didn't tell me you were assigned to the case and I thought you were a Kaos agent sneaking up on us so I drew my gun and you shot at me to stop me from firing." He shook his head. "Fantastic shot. You put your bullet in my barrel."
"I'm only sorry you never returned the favor," 22 said sadly. Almost done; don't lose it now. "But I'm not sorry I majored in vanishing at the Spy Academy," she added brusquely. "It's never come in more handy than right now."
"22, I - " Max wheeled around and realized that suddenly he was alone in the room. "How the hell does she do that?" he muttered to himself.
"I don't know," said another voice, "but it's not a talent that I need."
"99!" Max started, noticing her standing in the doorway. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough," she replied. A stock answer but an appropriate one. "You really haven't been unfaithful to me, have you?"
"Never," Max said emphatically. "Not that I haven't had the opportunity. 22 wanted to very badly and 69 - "
"Max."
"What?"
"You're not helping yourself."
"Oh. Right, 99."
"Oh, Max. It wasn't your fault. I should've learned to trust you after the last time. But just the thought of you with someone else drives me crazy. And all I did was hurt you - and the kids. And 22 in the process. I'm really sorry about all of that."
"99 . . . love means never having to say 'sorry about that'".
"Oh, Max. Thank you. That's sweet."
He gazed tenderly into her eyes. "I know."
"What'll happen to her?"
"22?"
99 nodded.
"She's been offered a place with the Secret Service," Max replied. "She wants to join the presidential protection detail. She's a good agent; I think she'll make it."
"I'm glad. She deserves a break." 99 wondered if she could have made the same sacrifice if their positions had been reversed. "And what about you?"
"That's another story. No one wants to recruit someone my age. The best offer I've been able to get is a job as a protocol officer for the State Department."
"I think you should take it, Max. At least you'll still be in Washington, still connected. We can buy a house in the suburbs for the kids to grow up in. Then maybe someday the government will come to its senses and reactivate you."
"Maybe. But in the meantime . . . "
"'In the meantime' what, Max?"
He took her in his arms. "In the meantime, 99, now that I've got you back, I already have ninety-nine per cent of everything I want."
He kissed her then, and there was no more conversation.
The silence could be heard all the way upstairs.
Maxine smiled at her brother. "Everything's going to be all right."
The End