Game Over

Oliver planned to follow directions. He really did. Then he saw the backpack in the space in front of the passenger seat of the Subaru. The backpack held his notebook and all his calculations on how the Rapids Project amounted to ecoterrorism.

As he picked it up off the floor, the inhaler fell out. Lee was probably going to need that since there were smoke bombs in play.

Sorry, Lee. My turn to flip the script. Oliver called Andrew and rapidly summarized the situation, including Lee's asthma and that he was going to follow. Andrew once again appreciated Oliver's ability to understand and clearly communicate information without extraneous questions or comments.

Andrew had some alarming news of his own to pass along. Beaman had managed to get a final text message out before communications were jammed when The Agency went into lockdown. He'd found the D1 termination order for Francine... and one for Amanda. As soon as he'd received Eff's message, he'd tried to call. Getting no answer, he'd called in a huge favor and assembled a small team of his own and was ready to move if needed.

He only hoped they would get there in time. Beaman had told his friend about the Assistant Director's vengeful streak on more than one occasion, and now that monster was out there hunting Mandy and Dr. Desmond.

Unfortunately for Amanda and Francine, Minter figured out quickly that Amanda was trying to get behind him. Maybe there's something to the Stetson woman's reputation after all.

He and Oldfield caught sight of her as she disappeared down what looked like a steep slope. It would have been an easy shot, less than 50 yards, no wind, negligible temperature or barometric pressure considerations, target not running an evasion pattern... but they needed her alive to reel Desmond in. He just hoped that oaf Oldfield hadn't given their position away. The man walked like a herd of elephants and made more noise than a pack of wild boars, grunting and panting as he tried to keep up.

Amanda was heading downhill toward the ravine where the famous Eternal Flame burned, directing Francine as she ran behind her. There were several large fallen trees that could hide them from anyone looking down, and a few spots where erosion had carved out sheltered spots under much harder rocks. She knew the overhang she was trying to get them to was large enough to shelter them both and block any shots from the top of the ravine, and the head of the ravine itself would preclude an attack from upstream while leaving them a decent field of fire. It was almost a natural bunker. They just had to get there.

As Minter feared, the women could hear their approach, mostly because of Oldfield's lack of stealth. He never should have brought the Undersecretary along, but he had insisted. Demanded, really.

Amanda and Francine were running along the shallow stream as quickly as they could. It was faster than sticking to the trails along the sides, but the rocks in the streambed were slippery. It left them more exposed, but they needed to put distance and obstacles between themselves and their hunters.

They had come to a wide, relatively dry section and paused for a few seconds behind a massive rock. Amanda took the opportunity to mention their location, hoping Lee and Oliver would relay their progress to Andrew.

"There!" Oldfield's shout sent the women diving for cover, but Amanda had a sinking feeling that they were pinned down behind the megalith. Minter knew he didn't have a clear shot, but his companion was a little trigger-happy. He fired 3 rounds. Amanda felt the sharp pain as a ricochet off the rock struck her in the chest. She fell sideways, momentarily stunned.

She signaled to Francine that she thought she was okay, very glad they'd taken time to grab those vests. Francine crouched down to check on her anyway.

"Play possum." It was barely a whisper, but she understood. Francine must have something in mind, telling Amanda to play dead. Before Francine moved away, she shielded Amanda as she reached into one of her jacket pockets for a gun then rolled onto her stomach. She just hoped the phones were still connected and picked up the shout... and the shots.

"Well my goodness, if it isn't little Frannie Desmond! I've been looking for you." The Undersecretary was practically salivating as he slammed a fresh cartridge into his pistol.

Eeeew. "DON'T call me Frannie." Minter's hanging a step back. Interesting. "And hello Lawrence. What a surprise to see you. Sooo... which of you is the dog and who's holding the leash?" Easy, girl! Are you TRYING to get shot?

The audacity! Minter hated when underlings addressed him by his first name. He wondered if he'd let the bitch live long enough to regret the disrespect.

He needn't have wondered. Now that Oldfield had Francine Desmond almost in his clutches, Lawrence Minter was just another loose end to tie up. He never saw it coming.

He turned his attention back to Francine. "Oh, don't worry. Old Larry assured me this little peashooter is clean. Too bad about your friend there." He gestured to Amanda's still form. "She was Larry's idea. Now, what to do about you?"

"The least you could do is tell me about this Rapids Project. That's what this is all about, right? Impress me, Christopher. I'm all ears."

They needed all the information they could get. At least he'd effectively confessed to Minter's murder.

She hoped playing to his vanity would stall him long enough for Andrew to get here, ideally with reinforcements. Or to get here at all. So many things could have gone wrong with their hastily improvised communication setup. And... Amanda was alarmingly convincing at playing possum.

Fortunately, Oldfield couldn't resist an opportunity to brag. Unfortunately, he didn't lower his weapon but continued to advance toward her, giving her no chance to grab for any of her small arsenal. She regretted choosing to appear unarmed, figuring he'd be more likely to talk if he didn't feel immediately threatened. She'd have to fire from the jacket pocket if it became necessary. It looked easy in the movies but was a Hail Mary shot in real life.

That was the situation Lee found them in. Amanda sprawled face-down on the ground, Minter with a hole in his skull, and Oldfield advancing on Francine with his gun drawn.

"Hey! Oldfield! Up here!" The smoke from the canisters Amanda had tossed earlier had sent his lungs into a frenzy. Those four little words left him breathless. His vision was starting to swim, but he hoped he could provide enough of a distraction for Francine to act. No way he trusted himself to fire in this condition, with Oldfield so close to his friend.

Oldfield was in no mood for interruptions. He squeezed off one shot before the blood erupted from his chest. In disbelief, he just had time to register Amanda Stetson slumping to the ground from a classic prone shooting position.

Fortunately for Lee, Oldfield was a very bad shot.

He started down the sloping trail, trying to get to his wife. Francine met him at the base and noticed his labored breathing. She worried that Oldfield had managed to hit him. He noticed her concern.

"Asthma. Smoke bombs triggered it. Oliver called Andrew. Hope he got through." Lee had to sit down on a fallen tree stump. Breathe, Scarecrow. Breathe. It's over.

He coughed a few times, trying to clear his lungs. "Great shot there. Best I could do was distract him."

"That wasn't me. It was Amanda." Amanda, who both of them noticed hadn't moved since sitting up against the boulder after taking the shot.

For a few seconds -or maybe an eternity- the ravine was silent except for the gentle sounds of running water. It was tinged red as it flowed past Amanda, staining her white sneakers with pink tendrils.

Francine heard the rustling in the brush above them. This time she was ready, hoping it was Andrew and that she wasn't about to traumatize some poor, unsuspecting early morning hiker.

It was Oliver. He didn't know the woods at all, but he'd discovered a natural proficiency for tracking during his wildlife ecology studies and had caught up with them quickly. He saw Lee struggling for air and rushed to him with the inhaler. Within a minute, his breathing had returned to almost normal.

As with the ride from the airport -was that just yesterday?- the four of them remained silent, most of them wondering what happens next.

What happened next was Andrew arriving with half a dozen of New York's heavily armed finest. Nobody caught the look that flitted briefly across his face. This wasn't the first time Andrew Hacker arrived just a little too late to be the big hero who saved the day.

They all knew there would be hours and hours of questions, all for something that would end up officially having never happened.

Oliver turned his attention to Francine. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't the little squeeze to his backside as she hugged him. "I thought we told you to stay in the car." Why does stuff like ...this... always make me want to do stuff like ...that? If she'd seen ever mentioned it to a therapist, she would have learned that sex is a very common urge after a frightening experience, rather than some kind of perverse death and destruction kink.

He smiled down into her sapphire eyes. "I'm not always good at following directions."

"I like that about you."

"Yeah?" That devilishly raised eyebrow did delicious things to her.

"Yeah." She thought it would be fun to show him how much she liked that about him... IF they could stay awake this time. Last night had started out so promisingly, but being naked in each other's arms was strangely cozy considering they'd only known each other for about twelve hours. Contrary to mutual intention, they'd fallen asleep quickly after finally indulging in a few of the kisses they were headed for when Amanda got home. It was... sweet. Francine wasn't used to sweet, but realized she wouldn't mind a little more of it before things reached their hormone-driven conclusion.

She looked over at Lee and Amanda, hoping to see Scarecrow and Mrs. King finally turning back into Mr. and Mrs. Stetson.

Uh oh. Amanda hadn't moved much, just sat against the rock, half in the stream, looking dazed. She didn't seem to notice when Lee came to help her up.

Francine was instantly alarmed. She knew it wasn't because she'd killed Oldfield. She'd seen Amanda decompress from a kill shot before. This one was uncomplicated. She knew they needed to record him incriminating himself by bragging to Francine, but after seeing him casually kill Minter, she'd had no choice once he aimed at Lee.

Oliver followed her concerned glance. Francine noticed Oliver noticing. There was a sudden shift, an intensity about him she hadn't seen before; something confident and commanding. Something she could picture spending time with after this was all over. Something that made her feel-

The warm fuzzies gave way to cold dread.

It was obvious to her that he was worried. Very worried. She realized the situation had transformed into his real-world territory, and his expertise was suddenly more than just an impressive entry on a resume.

He'd noticed the hole in Amanda's sweatshirt when he'd handed Lee his inhaler, and now saw a little bloody saliva around her mouth. This isn't good. If I'm right -and for once I REALLY don't want to be right- this is very, very bad.

Francine tried to reassure the men... and herself. "She's wearing a Kevlar vest. We both are. Very comfortable. Sure to be all the rage this season! See?" She lifted her hoodie a little to show them the vest then immediately felt ridiculous. Amanda's the only one who makes sense when she babbles. I sound like a frantic idiot. Oh, who am I kidding? Right now, I AM a frantic idiot!

For someone not prone to hysteria, she felt like she was getting dangerously close to the edge. She couldn't get one of her best friends back from the dead just to lose the other. She felt Oliver's strong arms fold around her again, grounding her as she nestled into his chest.

Oliver looked urgently at Andrew. Better to err on the side of caution than on the fervent hope that he was somehow wrong. "We're going to need a med-evac." He looked at Lee as one of the police officers radioed it in. "Wings is based just a few miles from here. If they can land, she's got a chance."

"What are you talking about, 'she's got a chance'? She's gonna be okay. She has to be! She... she's wearing a vest!"

Oliver's heart broke for Lee as he looked into his friend's devastated eyes. He knew losing Amanda, especially now, would kill him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to lie.

It didn't look good. Not good at all. He wasn't a doctor, but he'd seen this type of injury too many times during his internship with a Medical Examiner.

"It looks like the bullet hit her third or fourth rib near the costochondral joint. Even with the vest, if it was cracked from yesterday..." He had the rare understanding that he wouldn't be doing the others any favors by going into detail.

"Oh my God... Amanda!" Lee rushed to her, taking her into his arms, trying to help her stand. She smiled lovingly into the depths of his soul right before he saw her eyes lose focus.

Amanda had been looking at the famous Eternal Flame, just a little further down the ravine. It was so close, and so beautiful, dancing under its waterfall. She couldn't wait to show Lee. Make him understand it was like their love... an Eternal Flame. Even he could understand that, couldn't he?

She shifted her focus from the small fire to her husband's eyes, blissfully unaware of the conversation around her as she slipped from Lee's arms, and everything faded to black...

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Epilog

Today was the day.

Dotty West-Crank got the call ten minutes earlier from her old neighbor Lucy Fessenden. The moving truck had arrived at 4247 Maplewood. The For Sale sign had come down last week, having only been posted for a few days.

Of course the house wasn't on the market long. It's a lovely little house. I do hope it's a nice family, maybe with some young kids. It's still a nice neighborhood. Why, when Phillip and Jamie were little...

Dotty had so many fond memories of that house. She'd moved in with her daughter after Amanda and her husband finally figured out it was never going to work. Between them, they'd managed to raise two fine young men. After Amanda remarried and Jamie went off to college, she and Phillip had become much closer. He'd lived with her for two years while taking night classes at Prince George's Community College at Joint Base, trying to find his calling. Dotty knew he was relieved when she and darling Phil started getting serious. He'd decided to enlist, Navy rather than Air Force, and he knew she would be in good hands.

Oh, how those two enjoyed sharing a name! And that speech he made at our wedding about finally having the grandfather he was proud to pretend he'd been named after. Phil was the one who encouraged Phillip to pursue his wild dream of becoming a Navy SEAL, although Dotty wished he'd have followed in Amanda and dear Lee's footsteps and chosen the government branch of saving the world.

Her beautiful Amanda. Dotty had been relieved when she retired a few months after Lee died in that awful explosion. I thought that was the end of my worries, but to slip and hit her head on a rock just seemed like such a ridiculous way to go after all the dangers she'd lived through. And what was she thinking, hiking alone so early in the morning? No mother should ever have to bury her only child.

There hadn't even been a funeral. That surprised her. Amanda always had so many friends. It was selfish of her to not give them a chance to say goodbye. And cremation! What on EARTH was she thinking? Dotty shuddered, picturing Amanda's urn in a memorial park somewhere, next to Lee's. She hadn't even been able to bring her daughter home... after. At least they were back together now. For eternity.

Curiosity pulled her out of her melancholy thoughts. The realtor's car parked in front of the moving truck, and two vehicles pulled into the driveway. Two men got out of the older Toyota Camry and walked to the side of the van they'd parked behind. Why, if I didn't know better, I could convince myself that the shorter one is my own grandson. But dear Jamie doesn't wear glasses and has always found beards so distasteful. And the taller one is nothing like my Phillip, with that wild ginger Hippie hair. Brothers can be so dissimilar. At least I suppose they're brothers.

The side door of the van slid open, and in a few seconds a lift gate descended, revealing a frail older woman in a wheelchair. She had an oxygen tank and was draped with a heavy blanket, even though the temperature was in the mid-80s. Dotty supposed the shocking red hair was a wig. Probably chemo, poor dear. It does take a toll. The boys rolled her clear of the lift, then closed the door after it retracted.

A lanky old man with a (positively ridiculous!) handlebar moustache joined them, his (absurdly long!) white hair in a stubby ponytail. He gave a little nod in the direction of their parked car. Dear Phil nodded back. He was such a gentleman, polite to everyone. At least he seems friendly. Now, I do hate to judge, but I hope they're not a pair of old Hippies. Not in THIS neighborhood. At least the real estate agent looks normal. She'd be pretty if she slapped on a little lipstick and did something nice with her hair. She looks so severe in that boring navy suit. When the man got out of the moving truck, Dotty was amused to find herself reminded of that little cartoon monkey. What was his name? Curious George. That's it. It's the ears. The small group followed the real estate woman into the house.

With a sigh and a final goodbye to that chapter in her life, Dotty turned to her husband. "I'm ready, Phil. Let's go home. It's getting late." It was 4:47 p.m.

Inside the house, the woman with the red hair took a moment to look around. She didn't need the wheelchair, or the oxygen tank -and certainly not that silly wig- but for a moment she wasn't sure her legs would support her if she tried to stand. She felt a tingle of excitement -as usual lately- as she caught her husband's eye.

This was where it all started.

This was where it would begin again.

As far as most of the outside world knew, Lee and Amanda Stetson were dead. But for now, Carl and Jenny Stewart were home.

The End

(for now)