Author's Note: At the end of my story "Look of Revelations", I left off with Francine being partnered by Beaman, and by the time I picked up the story again in "Third Time Lucky", they were pretty good friends. How did that friendship develop over the months in between that we didn't see? This story picks up immediately after the last line of "Look of Revelations". This was originally published in the 40th Anniversary fanzine collection, "Covert Casseroles" still available on Amazon.

Many thanks to this fandom for buoying me up, through thick and thin.

May

"What's the Albatross Maneuver?" Efraim asked, with a look of complete confusion.

"That's what Lee was doing when you came in earlier," she said, sliding closer to him and running a hand up and down his arm, all while keeping an eye on her would-be suitor at the bar.

"You mean when he was kissing you?" Efraim stammered out, a dull flush rising up his face.

"Yeah," she breathed out. "Whenever one of us had a clinger at a party, the other one would step in and we'd pretend to be romantically involved to shake them loose."

"That makes perfect sense," agreed Efraim, now the color of a ripe tomato. "And you think that would work when it's me and not Stetson?"

She paused and stared at him. "You're not a troll, Efraim – you're just a little nerdy."

"I will accept the compliment that I'm sure was embedded in there," he answered, lips twitching. "But that's not what I meant." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I meant – will he believe it if he saw you making out with Stetson not all that long ago?"

"Oh." Francine slumped back. "I hadn't thought of that."

"So what you need is something like an Albatross, but not the same," he pondered out loud. "Just something to get you out of line of sight and hidden back among the crowd. A Penguin Maneuver, if you will."

"Yes, I suppose so," she said, doubtfully. "Got any ideas to get me out of here without Mark Brady tagging along?"

"Oh, I might."

She should have been more alert when she saw the gleam of humor in his eye, but was too distracted by the idea of an escape to think about it clearly. "Ok, go for it."

Efraim got up from the table and helped her to her feet. Too late she saw the glint of metal in his hand – and then the first cuff locked around her wrist.

"Francine Desmond," his voice boomed out, silencing most of the conversation in the bar. "I'm placing you under arrest for solicitation. You have the right to remain silent…"

Francine glared at him in disbelief as she looked from her cuffed hands up at his face. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Efraim continued, although she could see he was on the verge of laughter. He began to walk her towards the exit.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney."

"You're the one who's going to need an attorney, you jerk! I can't believe you're embarrassing me like this!"

Efraim's monotone delivery of the Miranda Rights continued. "If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"Oh we'll be speaking all right!" she hissed. "I will tell you in explicit detail what I'm doing the whole time I'm dismembering you!"

Efraim opened the door to the street and grinned down at her. "So partner, I suppose this means sharing a room in Las Vegas is off the table?" he asked.

June

Efraim was just finishing up running a computer scan when Francine entered their shared office at top speed.

"Efraim, I need you."

His eyebrows shot up. "You need me?"

Francine nodded. "Yes. Can you rent a tux in time for something tonight?"

"Actually I own one. Why?"

"You own one? Why would you – you know what? Never mind. Just go get it and meet me back here in an hour. I need backup at a party and in a tux, you can pass for a waiter and search the den for info while I distract the host."

Efraim was never going to turn down an evening with Francine, but he acted nonchalant, shrugging and replying, "Okay, whatever."

"You clean up nice," Francine commented as they walked through the foyer of the Georgetown mansion where the party was being held.

"Glad you think so."

"Okay, so you're ready for us to work our scenario?"

"Francine, you've gone over it a dozen times. I think-". Efraim suddenly stopped dead, blenching as they crossed the threshold of the ballroom. "Actually, nope, this isn't going to work."

"Of course it's going to work – why are you so worried?"

"Because-"

The shouts from the bar began at almost the same moment.

"BOOMER! OH MY GOD, YOU NERDY OLD S.O.B! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Efraim turned to look at her apologetically. "Because almost every man in this room is one of my old fraternity brothers from MIT…"

July

"Oh Lord, it's my worst nightmare."

"What is?" Efraim looked around the park where they were surveilling a Russian attaché.

"There is a small child staring at us and - oh no, now it's coming this way."

Efraim swiveled to see what she was talking about, winced and turned back to her. "It's worse then you think."

"How could it be worse?"

"Uncle Effam!" shouted the toddler, now headed their way at an even more determined pace. "Uncle Effam!"

"You're right," said Francine. "This is definitely worse."

Efraim stood up and picked up the beaming little girl, swinging her up onto his hip and kissing the top of her head.

"Miriam, where is your mother?"

"Over dere," lisped Miriam, snuggling into his chest.

Efraim waved at his sister who had spotted them and was now also headed their way. "She knows I work for the government," he said to Francine. "We can just tell her we're on lunch break from a meeting nearby."

"Well, at least this is good cover," Francine rolled her eyes. "No one's going to suspect an agent would bring a baby on surveillance."

"Uncle Effam, is dis your girlfriend?" asked Miriam, turning wide brown eyes on Francine. "She's pretty."

Efraim shot Francine a quick grin. "No, she's not my girlfriend, but yes, she is very pretty."

"I like her – she's very observant," Francine preened. "She can join the Agency when she grows up."

"Well, you'll be in charge of it by then, so remember you said so."

"What's her name?" asked Miriam, shout whispering into Efraim's ear.

Efraim turned a teasing look on his partner. "You can call her Aunt Francine," he responded. "Or maybe she'll let you call her Frankie."

Francine narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

Miriam mouthed the words silently for a moment before trying it out loud. "Frankensteen?" she said.

Efraim tried unsuccessfully to turn his shout of laughter into a cough.

"Your Uncle Effluent was joking," said Francine, glaring at her partner. She took Miriam's hand and shook it gently. "You can call me Miss Desmond."

"Miss Diamond?"

Francine shot Efraim a triumphant look, before turning to smile at Miriam. "Yes, exactly."

August

Efraim shifted slightly from his place at the bar so that he could keep a better eye on his partner. Francine was expertly toying with the guy from the Consulate, drawing out the information like an expert fisherman teasing a catfish out from under its rock. He grinned to himself as he recognized from her expression when she hit paydirt. He didn't know if anyone else was aware of her tell – that her mouth quirked up just so when she was pleased about something.

He also knew that once she got what she was after, she'd be ready to move out quickly, so he got ready to leave. Francine patted the hand of her starry-eyed Eastern European and turned to walk to where he was waiting. Before she could reach him though, a man at the bar reached out and hauled her up against his side.

"Hey little lady, now that you're done flirting with that bozo, how about spending time with a real man?"

"Oh, you really don't want to do that," said Efraim involuntarily.

The man turned to glare at him. "Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, Buddy?"

Efraim, who had been halfway out of his chair, settled back in and reached for one of the bowls of popcorn that were scattered along the bar. "Me?" he asked, tossing a few kernels in his mouth. "Oh, I'm not going to do a damn thing."

And then, Francine's mouth quirked up just so.

September

Francine was only paying about 90% attention to her current conversation, but since she was a highly regarded professional, 90% was all she really needed to have her mark eating out of the palm of her hand.

The other 10% - to her inner annoyance – was distracted by her partner, sitting at the bar and apparently attracting the attention of an absolute bevy of women. He was obviously demonstrating something because occasionally there would be noises of delight and beaming smiles from the group, but she couldn't see what it was from her position all the way across the room.

Finally, she managed to get the last piece of information wrung out of the lobbyist and moved slowly across the room, stopping to chat and flirt, but never letting Efraim and his harem out of her sight.

She reached him, just as the last woman turned to leave, but not before pressing a quick kiss on Efraim's cheek and slipping something into her purse.

"What the hell have you been doing over here?" she asked without any preamble. "Did you just give that woman your number?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking confused. "You said to wait here and I've been waiting here ever since."

"I mean, what's with all the women? It looked like a moth convention and you were the porch lamp."

"Oh that." Efraim lifted his glass and drained it. "I was doing my party trick."

"You have a party trick? Is that a euphemism?"

"No, just a literal party trick," he grinned. "I usually do it for my nieces and nephews, but it turns out to be surprisingly useful at this kind of thing. You know, when I have to hang around at the bar and don't want to look like a creep all evening."

Francine rolled her eyes. "Okay, I suppose if it's normally done for small children, there's no harm in asking – what is your party trick?"

Efraim winked and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of paper. Peeling one off the pile, he began to fold it into increasingly more complicated shapes.

"Origami?" Francine asked, interested despite herself. "That's what kept all those women glued to you?"

"I got into it when I spent a student exchange in Japan," he replied, eyes on the paper. "I always have something to do with my hands, and it makes me look more harmless.

Francine snorted. "You always look harmless, Nerd."

Efraim straightened up and gave her an amused look. "Do I?"

Francine paused, giving him the once over. He was in a well-fitting tux and had ditched his glasses for contacts tonight. Now comfortable in her presence, he had relaxed into a more casual posture than the old days and for the first time she realized how much he towered over her. The amusement in his gaze had an element of heat in it that made her remember that he'd once – or maybe still? – had a crush on her. Unsettled, she shrugged and redirected her attention to the paper in his hands.

"So, what are you making?" she asked.

"Well, for most of the women tonight, I made paper cranes because they're very simple and elegant and I can tell them it reminds me of them."

"So, what am I getting?" she asked. "A wolverine?"

Efraim laughed and finished the last fold before holding it out in the palm of his hand. "For you? A penguin, of course."

"Short, webbed toes, smells like fish?" she teased him, as she reached out and took it.

"It's an Emperor penguin. Elegant, perfectly designed, and loyal," he corrected her gently.

"Oh," she responded, surprised at the earnestness of his answer. "Well, thank you."

"Anytime."

Francine scrambled to get the conversation back on a more casual footing and found herself asking "Uh, do you want to grab a coffee and a dessert on the way home? I'm starving."

"I would like that very much," answered Efraim, winging out his arm for her to take.

Francine slid one hand around his arm and lifted the paper penguin to look at it again. "So - were you giving all those women your number, folded up in a paper crane?"

"Of course not," he smiled. "But I can add it to yours if you'd like."

"But I have your number," she teased him.

"You do," he agreed. "You really do."

October – the day after Lee and Amanda's wedding

The wedding had been perfect, Francine thought. Lee and Amanda had been just about the most beautiful couple she'd ever seen, radiant in their happiness and their love for each other. It had been a small but deeply devoted gathering of friends and family – the absolute antithesis of what people thought when you said 'Las Vegas' and 'wedding' in the same sentence. Not that it hadn't had some of the usual aspects of a wedding – once the boys were put to bed, Dotty had shooed them all - Maggie, Julie and Efraim and herself - out the door with the newlyweds for an evening of dancing, laughter and teasing that wouldn't have gone amiss at any other wedding she'd been to. It was hard to recall when she'd had so much fun – although given the Vegas-sized drinks, it was hard to recall a lot of things at the moment. She sighed and stared at the ceiling, looking for inspiration. The answer to this problem might be up there –it certainly wasn't anywhere else.

"So what do you think we should do about it?"

Francine turned her head and stared balefully at her partner.

"Efraim, if I had come up with an idea yet, don't you think I would have shared it with you?"

"Well, yes," he admitted. "But I get nervous when you're quiet for too long."

She lifted her hand to stare at the shiny gold band on her ring finger, a hand that was currently cuffed to the wrist of her worried-looking partner. "Well, apparently I said at least two words last night, didn't I?"