Amanda lay in bed Friday morning, enjoying the luxury of knowing she didn't have anywhere to go and no one was going to come and interrupt her half-doze. Frederick and Mary, the fake butler and maid, had probably arrived for their shift by now, but they wouldn't come upstairs unless it was to find Lee for something. No doubt they were down in the kitchen, enjoying the remains of the poppy seed cake she'd made the night before and the coffee she'd set to brew for ten minutes before their arrival.

Unlike Lee, they'd been quite appreciative of her waffles the day before – Mary had even contributed by rooting through the fridge for fruit and making an amazing berry coulis from scratch as an addition – but Amanda had known the night before that she'd been overdoing it on her ankle and needed to rest today. Nope, the cake was going to have to be enough today – she just hoped Lee would at least have a slice of that so he'd have something except coffee in his system. Honestly, how does he even survive on what he eats?

"Can't you ever just sit still?" Lee had asked the night before watching her whisk up the cake ingredients after they'd finished dinner and cleared away the dishes. "I'm exhausted just watching you."

"Of course I can," she retorted. "I'm just not used to having nothing to do on a school night. I should be helping with spelling tests or explaining fractions or baking cookies for the class party Phillip forgot to tell me about. Oh my gosh." She stopped dead suddenly and stared into space, before nodding and going back to mixing ingredients. "For a second there, I thought the party was this week but it must be next week because it's supposed to Thanksgiving themed and that's not until next week. But at least that gives me something to do tomorrow because I can make those here and freeze them and that will be good because I'm going to be so busy back at the Agency when this is all over what with being gone so many days that I might not have time later."

Lee hadn't been able to stop laughing. "Amanda, one minute you're complaining about your ankle and the next you're planning a day running around the kitchen. Can't you just relax?"

Amanda had looked at him with surprise. "Oh, Lee, this is how I relax! And baking cookies isn't tiring. It's just like this, mix things up, put them into bake, let them cool. Easy peasy."

"Couldn't you just get those ones from TV? You know – the ones you just slice off the tube?"

Amanda couldn't have looked more pained if she'd tried. "Tube cookies? Oh Lee," she'd shaken her head pityingly. "Those shouldn't even be called cookies – I don't even want to think about what's in those. You'll see tomorrow – I'll make extra and save you some."

He had perked up at that. "You will?"

"Of course I will," she'd answered with surprise. "Unless… do you want me to make brownies as well? I know you like them."

"Amanda!" Lee dropped his head in his hands. "I'm going to have diabetes if you keep this up!"

"Oh I don't think so," she answered. "You keep pretty fit – it shouldn't be a problem." Her gaze had drifted idly over him before she'd started to blush and turned away. "But of course, if you were to eat a proper breakfast, that would help."

"And there it is," grinned Lee. "The stick behind the carrot."

"Don't be silly," said Amanda, smile turning impish. "Carrots are healthy."

"Not in a carrot cake," he pointed out.

Amanda got a faraway look in her eye. "I do have a killer carrot cake recipe somewhere," she said thoughtfully.

"Cream cheese icing?" Lee asked hopefully.

Her attention snapped back into focus and she shook the mixing spoon at him. "Not for you. I wouldn't be a good wife if I let you eat nothing but desserts. I mean it's one thing to look the other way about your cocaine addiction, but nutrition is important – something you seem to conveniently forget most days, Mr. Cassidy."

Lee put a hand over his heart and looked wounded. "I make you dinner and this is the thanks I get!"

Amanda had immediately looked guilty, "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, Lee! I didn't even think-"

"Kid?" he interrupted her before she could really get going. "It was literally the least I could do. You've upended your whole life for this with no warning and I'm really grateful."

"Oh, well. Thank you," she answered softly, ducking her head in the now familiar gesture of embarrassment.

"You're welcome." Lee stood up and went to take the bowl out of her hands. "Okay, now sit down. Even I know how to pour mix into a cake pan."

Amanda had sunk into one of the kitchen chairs, more grateful to be off her bad ankle than she'd admit and watched him expertly grease the cake tin, then pour the batter, gently tipping the fluted pan until the batter was even distributed before opening the over and sliding it onto the middle rack.

"You do that like a pro," she said finally.

"I had a good teacher a long time ago," he grinned. "Although it feels odd to only be doing one instead of a hundred."

"A hundred?"

"Long story," he waved it off as he sat down opposite her and picked up his coffee again.

Amanda looked around the empty kitchen pointedly. "I think we have time."

Lee looked around in surprise as if he had really only just remembered they were alone again. "Long boring story," he amended.

"So tell me a long not-boring story," said Amanda immediately. "You must have a million of those and they can't all be need-to-know. Tell me what Lee Stetson got up to before he was a spy."

Lee had shifted uncomfortably. He knew he could spin a yarn at the drop of a hat, had done it on pointless dates with nameless girls a thousand times, but he didn't want to do that now, in the quiet closeness of this unfamiliar kitchen with Amanda. She was watching him expectantly, sipping her own coffee.

"The first real concert I ever went to was Woodstock," he offered finally.

"Really?" She put the cup down on the table and leaned forward eagerly. "What was that like?"

"Muddy," he grinned and watched her toss her head back with laughter.

"Is that all you remember?" she asked.

"That's more than a lot of people do," he pointed out.

"True," she acknowledged with sparkling eyes. "But tell me more."

"I had to hitchhike up from my unc-… from where I was living at the time, so I missed the first day but I got there just in time to see Santana…"

Amanda picked her cup back off and leaned back, relaxed and watching as Lee began to wax poetic about that rainy weekend, catching glimpses of the boy he'd been then.

She lay staring at the ceiling, smiling again at some of his outlandish stories. When he had started to wind down about Woodstock, she contributed a few stories of her own youth and between one thing and another, they'd talked until after midnight, stopping for slices of warm cake and spluttering with laughter over the silliest things. It had been nice – even though they'd become pretty good friends over the last few months and been through some pretty crazy stuff together, it was rare that they got such quiet uninterrupted time to just talk. What with his regular party rounds with his circle of girlfriends and her not being able to tell her mother about him, most of their time together had been over lunches and coffee breaks and usually ended up being about work anyway. Last night had been different – just two friends talking about themselves.

And yet, there's still so much he won't tell me.

She knew from little things he'd said that Lee's childhood had not been as idyllic as hers, but every time she'd given him an opening last night, he'd avoided it, changing the subject with the ease of long practice. She didn't want to press when it was so obvious that he didn't want to discuss it, but it hurt when she said something that seemed innocent only to see the flash in his expression that told her that once again, she'd managed to say exactly the wrong thing.

Maybe I should ask Francine.

She didn't really want to – it seemed like such an invasion of his fiercely-kept privacy but maybe if she had some hints to go on? Francine had filled her in on some of the work things, like how his partner had died but nothing personal.

No. That would be wrong. I shouldn't ask her things I'm not willing to ask him.

In the absolute quiet of the early morning, she slowly became aware of an odd noise that she couldn't quite place. Slipping out of the bed, she went to the doorway, straining to figure out what it was. She walked along the hall, her bare feet making no noise on the thick carpet until she found herself outside Lee's door. It sounded vaguely like raised voices, but not quite. Maybe Blue Leader was talking to him through the radio again? She knocked quietly and got no answer. Taking a breath, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door slightly open.

"Lee?" She slowly looked around the door and scanned the room. It took a few seconds and then she realized that what she'd been hearing was Lee singing in the shower, not very well but with enthusiasm. She paused, trying to make out what the song was. After the conversation last night, probably the Grateful Dead, she thought. Or maybe CCR?

Suddenly the volume of Lee's voice went way up as he began to bellow out the chorus of the song.

There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando
They were shining there for you and me
For liberty, Fernando

Slapping her hand across her mouth to muffle the shriek of laughter bubbling up, Amanda yanked the door shut and scampered back down the hallway, trying not to step down too hard on her bad ankle. Back in her room, she collapsed back against the door and finally let the laughter out.

"Okay" she told the empty room. "Maybe I don't want to know all his secrets!"