Rude Awakening

Amanda heard her cell phone ringing and someone pounding furiously on the front door as she stepped out of her shower just after 5:00 the next morning. She hastily slipped into the leggings and sweatshirt -one of Lee's- she'd set out for a peaceful morning of garden work a lifetime ago. The phone stopped ringing, so she reached for her Glock instead. It was too early for all that pounding.

As she crept cautiously down the entry hall, she met Francine at the foot of the stairs. She was dressed only in a very short nightgown and a suspiciously familiar green sweatshirt, her own pistol aimed at the closed door.

As a precaution, they'd turned off the exterior lights when they got back last night, and consequently couldn't identify the figure at the front door in the video monitor in the crepuscular pre-dawn light. He'd obviously been standing there pounding on the door long enough for the motion sensor lights to turn off. A quick scan of all four security cameras showed that he (He? looks like a he) was either alone or had very well-hidden accomplices.

Amanda silently motioned Francine into the library to the right of the door before flinging it open and stepping left toward the dining room. She quickly dropped to one knee to get out of the most likely line of fire... and set up her own shot if she needed to take it. The tall man at the door also had his pistol drawn.

"Andrew!"

"Mandy! Oh thank God!" He started to reach for Amanda to draw her into a relieved hug when he noticed Francine. "Dr. Desmond?"

Were the women both imagining it, or was there some relief mixed in with his surprise? And why is he surprised? I told him she was in town. Maybe it's just seeing her half naked.

"Dr. Hacker." Dressed casually in rumpled tan slacks and a brown sweater, he reminded Francine of Curious George more than ever. She was uncomfortably aware of her bare legs and feet, glad that she'd thrown on the sweatshirt she'd stripped Oliver of last night. She did have a certain reputation, and this look would do nothing to uphold it. Messy hair aside, the sweatshirt clashed horribly with her burgundy babydoll nightie.

Amanda was glad to have avoided his intended hug. Did he REALLY just try to hug me while we have guns pointed at each other? This must be pretty serious, even for...what time is it? Just after 5 in the morning. His concern was sweet but seemed a little overbearing suddenly.

"I'm just going to run up and put some clothes on." And extricate myself before this turns awkward Francine added to herself as she turned to head back upstairs. "Coffee in five?"

That should keep his mittens off her for a minute.

She'd picked up on the look on Amanda's face when Andrew tried to hug her. Definitely not her boyfriend.

She clutched the satin hem of her nightie as she bounded up the stairs. Not that she expected Hacker -or Amanda- to notice, but she didn't have anything on underneath it.

Amanda understood, grateful for Francine's quick thinking. She herself felt kind of like a deer in the headlights. But since when can Francine read me like this? Has she always been able to? Coffee. Yes, time to make the coffee.

"Well, looks like we're heading for the kitchen. Everybody's gonna want coffee. And I can put the pie in the oven." She tried to sound cheerful and welcoming -or at least not frazzled- as she motioned for him to follow. "Once Francine gets back downstairs you can-"

"Have you checked you answering machine, or your cell?" His voice was urgent enough to override the irritation that was building inside her.

Come on now, this is Andrew. You know he wouldn't be blowing up your phone and pounding on your door at this hour unless he had a really, REALLY good reason. A good enough reason to have his gun drawn.

He'd reholstered his weapon and opened his cell phone. He handed it to her after she had the coffee started. "Here. Eff explained it better than I can. Efraim Beaman."

"Beaman?" She vaguely recalled Andrew mentioning him once or twice but hadn't thought too much about it. While of course she had known Efraim forever, their paths hadn't crossed much after she'd finished her training all those years ago.

No, that wasn't quite true. He'd always been friendly enough with her, but he and Lee...well, Billy Melrose may have described them best one year when he said they weren't exactly on each other's Christmas Card lists.

None of this would have happened on Billy's watch. And I would have known about Lee, because ... well... Because. Because it never would have happened! Oh, how she missed that man!

Andrew hadn't prepared her for the photos of Fred Fielder. It was way too early to deal with them, so she scrolled quickly to the text part of the messages. She unintentionally scrolled back through a few extra messages and saw the last time Andrew and Beaman had texted. It was shortly after she and Andrew met, and he was asking about her. She was touched to see that Efraim thought pretty highly of her after all.

"Francine needs to see this." She paused. "And so does Lee."

If she'd had time to think that far ahead, this would definitely not be the way she would have chosen to tell Andrew about that particular situation.

"So does Lee what?" His groggy voice came from the livingroom. He'd fallen asleep on the sectional. Amanda hadn't had the heart to wake him, so she'd covered him with the wedding quilt from Emily. She was pleasantly aware of the symbolism, but knew Lee rarely picked up on that sort of thing.

The banging on the door had awakened him, too, but in that weird way of exhausted dreamers, he'd incorporated the noise into his dream and fallen back into a shallow half-sleep. Hacker's voice, however, refused to be incorporated.

Oh no. Not before coffee. And not before Francine gets back downstairs. Amanda figured there was less chance of the two men posturing for dominance if Francine was there. Plus, Francine REALLY needed to see those photos. Especially the one of the paper on poor Fred's desk.

Lee wandered into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed that Amanda was wearing one of his old sweatshirts. He'd always loved that. It was like giving her an all-day hug, preferably followed by the real thing, and maybe-

Oh. He'd heard his voice, but seeing Andrew here, in the kitchen, was another thing entirely.

Hacker understandably looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Lee, you remember Andrew Hacker from the FBI, right? Andrew, you know Lee Stetson? My... husband. I think you've met?" She'd only hesitated a fraction of a second on that word. If I didn't know what to do about them yesterday, I sure know it today. Poor Andy. He's a good man. And a good friend. But he's not Lee.

"I'm guessing this is a long story?" He offered Lee a handshake. Whatever else he was, Andrew Hacker was a man who could recognize romantic defeat and was able to accept it gracefully. He'd certainly had enough practice.

She was relieved to see Lee accept the gesture. She handed him Andrew's phone, then set five cups out for coffee.

Francine and a very sleepy looking Oliver were downstairs before the coffee was finished. Francine had just thrown on leggings and a hoodie, recognizing that Amanda didn't want to spend any more time than necessary alone with Andrew. Amanda never understood how Francine could make herself presentable in so short a time. Not glamorous -that could take several meticulous hours- but still somehow fresh and pretty.

Oliver, on the other hand, had some serious bedhead going on, and it looked like he had the now-familiar green sweatshirt on backwards. He and Lee could definitely have used more than the few hours of sleep they'd been able to get. If Francine and Oliver had gone to sleep right away rather than "to bed".

Lee passed Andrew's phone to Francine. She also unintentionally scrolled to the part where Hacker was reference checking Amanda. No wonder Eff was suddenly so curious about her a few months ago. Without asking for permission, she went into Andrew's contact list and called Beaman.

"Hi Eff. It's me. We got your message."

"Frannie! Oh, thank God!" Efraim Beaman was the only person on the planet who could get away with calling Francine "Frannie".