Lee chuckled and Amanda's head swiveled to look up at him as they walked through Lafayette Square. He looked a million times better than he had when she'd arrived at his apartment the day before to find him ashen and stumbling in the throes of a concussion migraine. It had been a shock to see him so helpless since he'd been pretty much his regular self the night before. He was normally so lively, never at rest; he had always bounced back from things like a rubber ball and an entire day of sleeping and not speaking – not even to complain – had been unnerving. By late afternoon, she'd been on the brink of insisting he return to the hospital when she'd finally seen the color start to return to his cheeks and the crease of pain smoothing out from his forehead.

She flashed back to the first night in the hospital after their crash through the bus shelter; she'd held his hand for hours, talking to him, trying to get any reaction from him and getting nothing before finally curling up on the much-too-small bench when she could no longer sit upright. The relief when he'd finally come to and reached to grasp her hand, wrapping his around it like he needed an anchor had been so overwhelming – and then she'd had to watch him fake his death again just days later. She shook herself free of the memory, shoving it to the back of that overflowing mental compartment labelled 'Nightmares' and smiled up at him.

"What's so funny?" she asked, trying not to let any of that show on her face.

"I was just thinking how amazing it is I'm still alive when I probably shouldn't be"

It was close to what she'd been thinking that she could barely hold in the choke of horror, forcing herself to keep her voice light as she asked, "And why shouldn't you be with your own Bluebell at your beck and call?"

"That's what I mean," he answered laughing. "Thank God I've got you – can you imagine if Billy had assigned me to Francine? One of us would be dead by now for sure."

His good humor was so infectious that she couldn't help laughing along. "I think there was a compliment buried in there, so I'll disregard the way you just insulted a fellow agent."

Lee chuckled and reached out to take her hand and squeeze it, then continued to hold it as they walked. "Seriously though, you're a very calming person. Amanda. Francine would have been pacing around my apartment making me crazy by the end of the first day. And she definitely would have bitched if I hadn't talked to her for an entire day."

"Ah, but she would also have catered all your meals from the Blue Fox," Amanda reminded him. "Whereas I've been sneakily undermining your taste buds with food that regular people eat."

"Well, you win some, you lose some, I guess" he answered, smiling. "Ooof!" he added when she tried to shove him sideways, pretending to stumble a few steps, before reaching back and clasping her hand again, almost absentmindedly.

He glanced down at her as she stared straight ahead, lips pressed together, obviously trying not to laugh. She lifted her face to meet his questioning look.

"I'm just writing a mental list of all the words you've used to describe me. I don't think 'calming' was ever one of them," she answered the unasked question. "Aggravating, frustrating, irritating…"

"Stubborn," he supplied helpfully. "Don't forget stubborn."

"I was getting there. The list was alphabetical," she replied in a serene tone that didn't quite hide the laughter behind it.

They continued to saunter in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sunshine that held that sliver of warmth that said spring was just around the corner.

"I'm going to have to tell Mother we were at an outdoor shoot," said Amanda, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun. "I'm going to have too much color in my face to convince her I'm spending my days in an editing room."

"She must have wondered what happened with all the 'overtime' when I was away and you weren't out until crazy hours," remarked Lee. "I mean, unless you were? I don't even know what Billy had you doing while I was in Sainte Marie."

"Well, you know how it goes. Once Fred and I were done busting that Columbian drug cartel wide open, I spent the rest of the time relaxing," she answered. "Filing, transcribing, restocking the supply cabinet… it was a whirlwind existence." She stole a quick glance at him. "I missed you. Life's pretty dull without you around."

"Right back at you," he answered with a wink, before abruptly changing tack. "You said the other night you've been seeing Dr. Joyce?" Lee ventured. "How's that been going?" She could hear the note of uncertainty in his voice. "I mean, you made it sound like you'd seen her a couple of times." He cleared his throat nervously, "More than the usual post-mission appointment?"

"Mmm-hmm," said Amanda, a little bit evasively. "A couple more. Turns out it's hard to shut me up once I get going." She paused automatically to let him respond, turning to look at him when there was only a strangled snort. Lee was staring straight ahead but the dimple creasing his cheek spoke volumes about the tenuous hold he had on his tongue.

"Nope," he responded to the unspoken question, finally turning to meet her eyes, his dancing. "Not going to touch it."

Amanda grinned and gave him another little hip check, before turning more serious again. "You were right, I do like her. She's, uh… calming." She chanced a look up at his profile. "She said you talked to her before you left, told her she didn't have to pretend not to know about you and Andy."

Lee's hand squeezed hers reflexively but he continued to stare straight ahead. "Well, I thought your brother might come up, and I didn't want you to have to censor yourself. And like I said, she's one of the good ones."

"It was a kind thought, thank you," she answered. There was a long pause and she went on, "I'm beginning to understand why all those people talk about going to therapy. It's cathartic, you know?"

Lee snorted. "I don't know about that. I can never quite shake the feeling they're storing stuff up for the book they're going to write later." He caught himself and quickly added, "But I'm glad you're finding it helpful."

Helpful. Amanda rolled the word around in her mind. Yes it had been helpful. And cathartic, and exhausting and emotionally draining. Lee hadn't been the only one to talk to Claudia ahead of time. She still wasn't sure how much Francine had told the psychiatrist before her first appointment, but Claudia had spent several appointments inexorably prodding her toward unburdening herself about what had really happened that night with Leslie before it had finally all come out.

"It's silly, really that it's even still bothering me. I mean it was all my own fault really…"

"What makes you say that?"

"I'd been drinking, I went back to her room, I was on her bed… she probably thought I was interested."

"Did you ever say you were?"

"Well, no, because I wasn't, but I can see why she'd think…"

"But you never consented to anything?"

"No, well, I don't think so."

"Amanda, if you were in a condition that precludes you from remembering, you couldn't have given consent. That is the literal definition of rape."

"But don't you think I implied it?"

"She might have inferred it, but I have no reason to believe you implied it. Sitting talking with someone in a hotel room is not implying you want to have sex with them."

"How do I know if I consented if I can't remember it?"

"Would it help to try and go through the whole evening?"

"I don't know. Would it?"

"Well, there's a simple method I could use, a question and response system – it might help you recall enough detail to try and understand what happened to you. You've spent so long repressing it that I think you're not able to remember it in a normal chronological way. It's just simple questions that concentrate more on the five senses than the actual event. Would you like to try that?"

"Okay, I guess…"

…

"What could you see in the room?"

"Not much. There was only one light on and it was behind her. I couldn't see her face all that clearly."

"And was it disorienting to not be able to see clearly?"

"Yes… I'd drunk too much and it was fuzzier than normal."

"What did you eat or drink while you were there?"

"We didn't eat. We'd just had dinner, but she got coffee from room service."

"And the coffee didn't help you think more clearly?"

"No, we only had a cup each and anyway she suggested we add something to it from the minibar in her room."

"And that was all you had?"

"No. Then she opened a bottle of something else. A regular bottle, I mean, not something from the bar fridge."

"Do you know what it is?"

"I can't remember." Panic is starting at the edge of the memories now. "Why can't I remember?"

"It's alright Amanda, it's a minor detail and it was a long time ago. Do you remember anything she said? Anything that suggested she was interested sexually in you?"

"N-n-n-no. Just jokes about the way the men she was working with kept hitting on her and how she wasn't interested in fat businessmen. And telling me to have another drink. I knew I shouldn't – I didn't have any more - but her perfume was making me sleepy."

"Her perfume made you sleepy?"

"That's what it felt like. Not sleepy exactly but queasy maybe? Like I didn't want to move. Like the bed was the most comfortable place on earth."

"How did you end up on the bed?"

"I don't know. I think... I went to the bathroom and when I came back, she'd moved to the chair so it was the only place to sit."

"Do you think she did that on purpose?"

"You mean, like she… tricked me to sit there?"

"Yes. It's a classic technique to shift you to a position of less power. And she is pouring your drinks?"

"Yes."

"You don't know what it is?"

"No."

Drink this – I think you'll like it. Blue eyes over a proffered glass.

"But you drank it?"

"Not all of it. It was bitter – it had a medicine taste I didn't like. She said it was just the flavor."

"Do you remember her getting on the bed with you?"

"No – I just closed my eyes for a second and then she was… there."

"How long do you think you closed your eyes for?"

"I-I-I don't know. Longer than I thought. I thought I'd fallen asleep and I was dreaming. She was kissing me and at first I didn't fight. I thought she was… someone else. I didn't fight…"

"Someone else?"

"Yes."

A long silence. Amanda could hear Claudia's pen scratching its way across the paper.

"And what could you feel?"

"Feel? You mean, like… did I like it?" Chest tightening, fear settling in again like an old friend.

"No, no. I mean like with your sense of touch, with your fingers, or other parts of your body. What was your sense of touch telling you? Were you warm or cold?"

"My fingers were… tingly. Kinda numb, I guess like they'd gone to sleep. I can feel the bedspread against my legs – it was one of those duvet things, you know the kind they have in Europe? It was soft, flannel or something because it was winter. It was almost December. The pillow was soft too, but cool – linen or something I think. I'm shivering like I'm cold. She was kneeling over me."

"Beside you or over you?"

"Over one leg, so I can't move easily. I tried to push her off but it was hard. I couldn't get any leverage at first."

"Was she still dressed?"

"Mostly, I think? But I could feel her skin on mine where she was kneeling."

"It was winter but you could feel the bedspread and her skin – so had you been wearing stockings or tights?"

"Yes – I would have been."

"So did you take them off? Or did she?"

Panic fluttering in her chest again like a moth against a window. "I can't remember. I don't think I did."

"You say you woke to find her kissing you… Were you still dressed? Other than the stockings being missing?"

"I thought so. My skirt was still on but my blouse was mostly unbuttoned." Shame flooding through her. "I didn't realize that until I was back at my hotel. I was cold trying to get back there but I thought it was just because it was so late at night. The night clerk looked at me like I was… not nice."

"Anything else?" Claudia's quiet voice was steady and clinical as if Amanda was just telling her about a perfectly normal day.

Throat closing.

Don't say it, don't say it. It's not true if you don't say it out loud…

"Amanda?"

"My underwear. That was gone too. I never realized until I got undressed at my hotel."

Tears now, trickling out of the corners of squeezed shut eyes, hot and salty, tracking down her cheeks, silently, always silently. Don't cry, the boys will hear. Don't cry, Mother will hear. Don't cry, Lee hates it when you cry. Throat tightening even more, tears pooling in her ears, the light tickle a contrast to the pain in her chest.

"How could I have been so stupid?" Struggling to catch her breath.

The realization that Claudia was pushing tissues into her hands and helping her sit up.

"Do you want to keep going or finish this another day?" She could hear the concern, knew that it would be too easy to give in and let that be an end to it. She could put this back in its box and seal it shut. She could tell Francine she was fine. She could keep lying – it had been months, why stop now?

"Keep going." Her voice sounds scratchy and like it's coming from another body. This needs to be done. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. You'll never come back if you don't finish this.

She stays sitting up and listens to Claudia moving back to her own chair, giving her the distance to feel safe again. Then back to the only-clinically-interested tone of voice, brutally direct.

"You told me she raped you. Why are you so certain you didn't wake up in time? Before it got that far?"

"I wasn't certain at first." Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. "I mean how would a woman…? But the next day, I was… sore. There was blood and pain from… From scratches… inside. From fingernails maybe." Breathe in, breathe out. "And bruises. I knew she'd bitten me on the collarbone after I woke up like she was taunting me, but there were other marks… bites and bruises on my thigh, and… other places. I hurt places…where I shouldn't."

"Was there anything you remember in the room that she might have used as part of the attack?"

"I don't remember. Does it matter?"

"No, I'm just trying to help you get a clearer picture so you're not fighting so many unknowns."

Fighting. Fighting her off. I did try, I did… didn't I?

"She said I'd enjoyed it." The words burst out of her, painful to hear in the silence, words she'd forgotten in the aftermath. "When I was trying to get her off me, she said I'd enjoyed it. What if I did? What if I responded because I thought she was…"

"Rapists often tell their victims they enjoyed it as a form of control. The body does have some basic responses to certain stimuli, but that doesn't imply enjoyment by any means."

"You're saying rapist now. Do you think she was?"

"From everything you've described, I am entirely certain of it. The physical sensations you're describing suggest that not only did she give you liquor but that it was laced with something – thus the lethargy but still semi-consciousness. You would have been compliant but unable to fight back. Your revulsion is clearly physical as well as emotional – you were not willing."

"But why? Why would she do it? She liked men too – why didn't she just sleep with one of the men who'd been hitting on her?"

"Rape isn't about sexuality, Amanda – it's not even about sex. It's about power, control, cruelty even. Most men would present no challenge since they would likely be willing. This couldn't have been the first time she'd done this – it was too careful, too planned. You say she travels in her job? That would make it harder to catch her and easier for her to find victims. Most women traveling alone would be like yourself – too ashamed to admit what had happened and certain no one would believe them."

"So you're saying she was the spider and I was the fly?"

"Yes, well put."

"I'm not sure I like being a victim. It makes me sound helpless."

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? You can be a victim of a crime without being to blame for the crime. If she had stolen money from you that night instead, would you tell yourself she thought you wanted her to?"

"No, of course not, but I can still be at fault for not having protected myself properly."

"It was a skillfully set trap, one which it seems like she'd practiced often – she preyed on your instinct to be kind, not your gullibility. You would have to be a very different person to have suspected her motives."

"But isn't that what I'm supposed to do in this job? Be suspicious? Guard myself?"

"Yes, but you hadn't been with the Agency so long at that point. And you weren't there in a working capacity, were you? You were socializing with someone you had no reason to suspect."

"I still feel foolish. I should have sensed something."

"Amanda, how did you join the Agency?"

"What?"

"Don't worry, I've read your recruitment file so it was a rhetorical question. But you sensed something you trusted in Lee Stetson, didn't you? When you took that package and agreed to deliver it?"

"Yes, but that's what I mean – why would I know he was trustworthy and not know she wasn't?"

"On that same case, Francine Desmond was tricked into revealing things she shouldn't have, wasn't she? You don't need to respond – I know enough of the details to know you were there. Now, do you think she is to blame for being fooled by a woman she had no reason to suspect?"

"Well, of course not – she was just going for cooking lessons…"

"And you were just sharing a meal and conversation with someone who turned out to be a sociopath. That doesn't put you at fault. No more than any other woman who is attacked by someone she knows. Your instincts are good – but sociopaths don't play by the same rules as the rest of us. Their brains are literally wired differently from the rest of us. It wasn't your fault when you had no way of knowing that."

"It wasn't my fault." She tested the words out loud in the quiet room. Claudia made it sound so simple, and sensible and true. "It wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't your fault." She lifted her head to meet Claudia's clear-eyed gaze. "You did nothing wrong."

The tears came again, but not silently this time. This time they came in loud gulping uncontrollable sobs that hurt her chest and kept her from catching her breath, followed by an insane desire to run. Run somewhere, run anywhere – get away from here, as if the flutters of panic she'd lived with all this time were making a last stand against eviction. Standing and stumbling to the door, only getting as far as the waiting room before doubling over, chest heaving, not sure where she could run to, knowing Lee's empty office was too far and Lee even further although every instinct is screaming that's where safety lies.

Why isn't he here when she needs him?

Shaking her head, trying to shake that thought loose before it can make a home there– it's not his fault either. He has no way of knowing she needs him, not now, not then.

Hearing Claudia lift the phone from its cradle, hearing her speak quietly, before coming to stand beside her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. It has to be less than a minute before she hears the familiar swift steps in the hall and the doctor is replaced with Francine, leading her back into Claudia's office, back to the sofa, arm around her in silent comfort.

Hearing the quiet whispers. "Take as long as she needs. Just sit with her. Don't let her drive. I've left a script for some anti-anxiety meds. She'll be fine. The worst is over."

The worst is over.

"I think the worst is over, don't you? Of winter, I mean – you can see the trees starting to get buds already."

Amanda looked up blankly at Lee, startled to realize they were already at the Mall, the Washington Monument looming up in front of them.

"Wow, you were a million miles away just then, weren't you?" he joked, pausing uncertainly at the expression on her face. "Is everything okay?"

"What? Oh yes! Everything's fine. I was just thinking about stuff."

"Anything I can help with?" His eyes were still alert with concern and she felt the familiar flutter of happiness that they were friends.

You should tell Lee.

But how would he look at me then?

"No, not really, but I'll let you know."

He studied her for a moment, head tilted to one side as if he wasn't quite sure he believed her before nodding thoughtfully. "Well I'm here if you need me."

He wondered why her face lit up with a blinding smile at such a simple comment, but didn't ask, too relieved to see the sad expression disappear.

He's here when I need him.