Jamie wandered through the kitchen, wrinkling his nose. "Boy, Mom, you can still smell that termite gas upstairs"
Amanda could barely hold in the grin as she ruffled his hair as he passed her. Sniff this, you can still smell the tear gas… "Sweetheart, I'm sure that's your imagination."
With a good night's sleep under her belt and a drop-by visit to Sixties R Us to check on the clerk, she was feeling a million times better than she had the night before. She hadn't quite gathered up the courage to go visit Francine again today, still off kilter by having blurted out that confession to her and completely unable to imagine what she'd say to her next time she saw her. And yet, she'd been kind, much kinder than Amanda would have given her credit for, even if she'd seen elements of that softer side before.
It's happened to all of us.
Why had it never occurred to her when Lee made those off-the-cuff remarks about the happy hooker routine, that some of those missions must have gone wrong, and from the sounds of it, more than once? Francine had been matter-of-fact about it, but she'd been kind, in a way that suggested she really understood.
It's happened to all of us.
There weren't that many female agents, and not that many that got sent in the kind of situations Francine found herself in all the time. She herself certainly never got asked to do that kind of thing – well, except for James Delano, and look how that had turned out. No wonder they'd never asked her again.
She continued tidying up the kitchen, as the thought struck her that maybe that's what Francine had meant about her not being agent material all these years. Maybe, knowing what she must know about the dangers specific to women in this job, maybe that's why she'd always said Amanda wasn't cut out for it.
But last night, she said she thought you had a knack for it, said a reproachful voice in her head.
Yeah, but she also said she thought you were sleeping with Lee, came the annoying reply.
She shook her head, frowning slightly at the feeling of dread that went over her as she thought about having to go back to the office, knowing now that everyone thought that.
All the reputation and none of the fun.
"I don't know why you're frowning quite so much, Amanda," her mother's voice suddenly cut into her thoughts. "It's a perfectly nice dress."
Amanda eyed the pink monstrosity Dotty was holding up, trying to find something nice to say about it before finally settling on, "Oh, I don't know, Mother. I'd feel silly."
"Well, you didn't seem to mind wearing something like that 15 years ago."
"Exactly, Mother, it was 15 years ago, and besides that, my dress was different. It had big blue patches on it. It made a statement."
Dotty rolled her eyes as she began to fold the dress back up. "Uh huh – a statement. I remember your flower child stage, Amanda, and the only statement you were making then was burning your-"
"Mother!" Amanda gestured to the boys who were still milling around collecting cookies and pouring glasses of milk.
Dotty stifled a smile and ushered the boys upstairs. She leaned back into the family room from the step and chuckled. "I'm just saying, Amanda, Neil Drexler is rich and still single and with the right outfit, I bet you could make quite an impression."
"Mother, I have no interest in making any kind of impression on Neil Drexler. I don't even think I'm going."
As Dotty vanished up the stairs laughing, Amanda heard a familiar rap on the back window. She turned and met Lee's eyes through the glass and caught her breath. In the dim light of the backyard, he looked much as he had the night before, the shadows falling on his cheek in a way that made him appear slightly unshaven. His expression was warm, he looked… he looks like that dream you had of him being in your room last night came the unbidden thought.
Lee quirked up an eyebrow, obviously wondering why she wasn't coming out, and she broke free of her trance. With a quick glance to make sure her family had well and truly gone upstairs, she slipped out the door and found herself confronted with – a hippie.
"Hey baby, what's happening?" he greeted her with a grin.
It was simply not possible that he looked this good in such a ridiculous outfit. She bit the inside of her cheek and hooked her thumbs in her pockets to try and keep him from seeing her reaction to it.
"Where'd you get the ancient threads?" she quipped, trying to keep it light.
Lee gave her one of his patented affronted looks –the one he had to know was almost irresistible. She gripped the towel in her hand a little tighter and tried not to sway toward him.
"I heard through the grapevine that you might be needing an escort to your reunion."
"The grapevine, huh? You mean when you were snooping around my kitchen last night."
"I wasn't snooping," he said, virtuously. "It was right up there on your fridge."
She had to laugh then, even as she eyed him up and down. He'd really gone all out on this – he must have gone back to that store because there was no way Lee had owned anything like this at the time.
"Oh, no, I'm not gonna go to the reunion," she answered, reaching out absentmindedly to straighten the peace badge on his beaded necklace. "I'm not gonna go," she repeated firmly, interrupting his protests.
Lee crouched down slightly, trying to get her to look at him "Come on. You should get to enjoy a night with your friends! Let's go. We'll make the perfect couple."
The perfect couple. There's already a whole office that think we're the perfect couple, she thought followed by the sudden thought, Well then, why not? Why the heck shouldn't I get to enjoy that? Except…
"OK, thanks. Yeah," she said out loud, absurdly tickled at how pleased he looked at having convinced her. "Give me fifteen minutes to figure out what to tell my mother and I'll meet you over on Howard Street."
"Tell her you've decided to try and find a date for Valentine's Day," he teased. "She'll push you out the door."
She was still laughing as she headed back inside, but found herself asking, "I really don't need to find a date for that, do I? Something's bound to come up at work." She glanced over her shoulder and paused, struck by the look on his face.
"The way he looks at you, the way he smiles at you – you're special to him."
As she watched, the smile got a little deeper, a little more- well she wanted to say giddy but she knew she was just projecting her own emotions now.
"No, you don't," he replied firmly. "I can guarantee you'll be busy that night."
Oh my gosh.
She drove around the block and pulled in to park directly behind the Corvette where Lee was waiting. She got out, locked her car door, and then slipped into the passenger door he was holding open for her. Once he'd walked around and settled into the driver's seat, he reached to turn the key, then stopped as he took her outfit in properly.
"What are you wearing?" The confusion was evident in his voice.
"What do you care?" she couldn't resist replying, then watched as the memories caught up with him and he began to laugh.
"You're such a comedian, Mrs. King. But seriously," he gestured towards her patchwork jeans and peasant top. "Wasn't that a dress you and your mother were discussing for the reunion?"
"It was," she agreed. "But first of all, I actually spent much more time in stuff like this back in the old days and secondly, we're not going to the reunion."
"What? Amanda, you said you wanted to go! You got this far, you can't chicken out now."
"I never said I wanted to go, and it's not because I'm chicken. Well, it is, a bit, but not for the reason you think." She grinned at his exasperated expression and started to explain. "Now look, you probably haven't been to one of these, but I'll tell you what they're like. Everyone stands around making polite chit-chat and asking each other what they've been up to and the men all try and one-up each other about how successful they've been and the women all compare notes on how much their husbands make and how great their kids are and wait for someone to walk away to discuss what plastic surgery they think she's had or if her marriage is in trouble. Okay? So how am I supposed to have any fun spending an evening telling even more lies about what I do all day?"
"Well, that's why you have your standard IFF cover story," he began.
"Lee, that's for when I'm working. I don't want my reunion to be nothing but lying to people for no good reason – it's a recipe for a horrible evening."
"So you don't want to go out tonight?" He sounded surprisingly disappointed – Amanda couldn't believe he could sound like he'd been looking forward to an evening with "regular" people.
"Well, I don't want to go the reunion, but there's no reason we can't go out. Let's just go do something we did back in the old days when we were kids, like go to the drive-in for dinner, hang out with friends… You know, just be ourselves for once."
He was quiet for a moment, mulling that over. "You really don't want to go?" he asked finally.
"Not to the reunion, no," she repeated.
"Okay," he capitulated. "So where do you want to go?"
"Well, let's start with Milo's and take it from there," she grinned at him.
"Milo's? Seriously? I mean, even dressed like this, I'm sure I can find us somewhere nicer for dinner than that!"
"Don't worry – we won't be eating there," she answered cryptically. "Now come on, let's get going before the Neighborhood Watch comes by!"
Lee rolled his eyes and turned over the ignition. Thirty minutes later, he was rolling his eyes again as a giggling Amanda shushed him and motioned him down the hallway.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," he hissed at her. "I am never going to live down this outfit!"
Amanda stifled her laughter. "Hey – if we'd gone to the reunion, there'd be photographic evidence – so just count your blessings!" She pointed again. "Okay, there's no one around – scoot!"
He bent low and scuttled down the hallway, praying no one would appear before they reached their intended goal, Amanda right behind him, hand on his back, just as if they were somewhere dangerous. He reached the target and slipped inside, checking to make sure the coast was clear before straightening up and letting Amanda slide in the door behind him. He peered through the dim light, wondering not for the first time if this wasn't a bad idea.
"Holy crap," said a confused voice. "They were right, the brown acid was bad." They approached the bed slowly, while Francine watched them, sleepily. She closed her eyes again, obviously certain that she'd imagined them under the influence of her pain drugs.
"Francine! Wake up! We brought you dinner!" chortled Amanda, holding up the brown paper bag.
Francine's eyes flew open again, now on full alert. "Jesus! I thought I was seeing things!" She struggled to push herself upright, gasping with pain as she did so, which sent Amanda racing forward to help her. Francine actually looked penitent as Amanda scolded her, waiting until the bed had been propped up and Amanda had put pillows behind her to ask "Why on earth are you dressed like that?"
"We're undercover," Lee quipped immediately.
"As what? The Carpenters?" Francine shot back without even pausing for breath. "Because may I remind you, you two suck at playing brother-sister covers. You guys came off less Bobbsey Twins and more Flowers in the Attic."
Lee looked to Amanda, completely confused by the reference but Amanda just beamed at her as she began dragging chairs closer to the bed and emptying the bag of takeout onto the rolling table. "Now I know you're feeling better!"
"Well, you are too, from the looks of it," remarked Francine glancing back and forth between her two friends. They looked exactly as they always did – perfectly comfortable in each other's company, relaxed and smiling, working together to set up the surprise dinner as if they'd done it a million times.
Like an old married couple she thought, shaking her head with a quick smile. If she didn't know that Amanda had been too emotionally wrecked yesterday to lie about anything, she'd be reconsidering that denial about their relationship. Her smile vanished as she remembered everything else Amanda had told her during that outburst. She looked up and realized Lee was watching her, concern on his face.
"Sorry, just achy from being stuck in this bed all day," she lied.
"Better than the alternative," he answered, reciting the age old toast of agents after an injury.
"Better than the alternative," she echoed, nodding. "Oh my God, did you bring me Milo's?" Her eyes widened appreciatively as Amanda began unwrapping the burritos they'd brought.
"Nothing but the best," answered Amanda, passing her a loaded plate. "Helping him avoid hospital food is just about the only thing I've found that keeps Lee sane when he's in here. And I really did want to say thank you properly – I don't think I said it yesterday before Lee showed up and made me go home." She gave him a small smile that said he'd been forgiven.
"First chocolates, now this. You're trying to kill me," jibed Francine. "And I'll die happy," she added quickly, realizing Amanda might not find that joke funny just yet. She picked up the stuffed wrap and bit into it with a groan of delight. "I love you," she managed to get out around the mouthful of food.
Amana looked at Lee with a raised brow.
"Don't worry – she means the burrito," he said consolingly, and Francine nodded vehemently in agreement.
"So why are you dressed up?" she asked finally, after a few more mouthfuls and after Lee and Amanda had settled in with their own. "Or should I say dressed down? You look like refugees from 'Easy Rider'."
Lee glanced at Amanda before answering for both of them. "I tried to get her to go to her reunion but for some reason, she decided this would be a better party."
Francine arched a questioning brow at Amanda who shrugged and elaborated, "I thought you'd like some distraction and nobody there will miss me. Besides, I'd rather spend the evening dodging nurses than spend it dodging questions from old friends."
"Well, you're doing a terrible job dodging nurses," said an unexpected voice. Three pairs of eyes swivelled guiltily to where the night shift nurse was standing in the doorway, tapping her foot. She surveyed the three of them, frozen in place before finally breaking into a grin. "Don't mind me," she continued, walking in with a wink. "I've seen you people in here way too often to think you're going to obey a single rule. I'm just glad it's not the big guy this time – he's the worst."
"Hi Jane," said Lee, meekly.
"Hi Lee," she answered, plucking a fry out of his order as she passed him, and blowing him a kiss. After a quick glance at the IV that dangled beside the bed, and making a few notes on her chart, she was on her way again, stopping at the door to wave a warning finger. "One hour – no more. She's supposed to be resting."
"Yes Ma'am," the trio chorused, every face the picture of innocence.
As soon as the door had swung shut, Francine put down the burrito. "Okay, tell me everything that happened."
It was Lee who took the lead – even Amanda hadn't heard the whole story of how they'd found her after making a deal with the devil – although he left out the part about Billy agreeing to the bribe. He knew she'd just fret over that, although he'd have agreed to ten times that amount to get her back safely. Besides, it wasn't as if Jepard was going to get any of that money.
"So is Jepard still alive?" asked Francine shrewdly as if she could read his mind.
"For now," said Lee in a disgusted tone. "But his injuries are critical – he won't make it out of the hospital, let alone out of the country."
The two women exchanged glances of relief that spoke volumes about how well they knew Lee. If Jepard was still alive, it meant Lee wouldn't be facing Internal Affairs later for anything other than the standard report on the deadly use of a firearm.
"You can both stop with those looks," said Lee. "I never touched him – and even if I had, even Internal Affairs would have looked the other way after everything he'd done. For crying out loud – he shot an agent and abetted kidnapping another!"
"Maybe he'll live long enough for me to have a crack at him then," said Francine lightly. "He's going to end up costing me a fortune in getting my clothes retailored. I have a whole rack of dresses with slits up the side that I'm not going to be able to wear again with the scar from this one."
"Not a problem," answered Amanda, completely deadpan. "I still have a $100,000 paycheck to deposit. With that kind of money we can bedazzle your crutches as well."