Chapter Text
October 3rd, 1983 - The One Hundred and First Time
"Just walk with me."
"I certainly will not!"
"Please. I'm in trouble."
"Oh! No. I've got to go!"
"Just one moment. Please!"
"No!"
"I'm in trouble. Please. . . . Please!"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just take this. Get on the train. It's a matter of life and death!"
"Life and death?" She sounded skeptical and he couldn't blame her – and he certainly couldn't explain it was her death he was talking about. All he knew was that she couldn't still be here when they caught up to him.
"Hand it to a man in a red hat."
"Is this for real?" Oh God, she was still fighting him on this and he could almost feel Boris' breath on his neck.
"Just get on the train, hand it to the man in a red hat. You can get off at the next stop and forget all about this, just do it!"
His relief when she finally got on the train and disappeared from view was almost overwhelming. Her comment last time about having to get her boys to school had been like a knife in his heart – no way in the world was he going to let anyone lose their mother on his watch. He needed to get this woman out of this loop once and for all.
"Okay, next time I know how to keep her safe," he thought, just as Boris' stocky frame knocked him down.
But there wasn't a next time. Station police interfered before he could be knocked out, and although the Russians escaped before they could be apprehended, he made it back to the Agency in one piece. That was when the whole next set of problems began though, when it became clear she hadn't passed off the parcel. If Guthrie was dead, was she as well? How had they even known Guthrie was on the train? Could they have made the connection to Amanda King? This was looking more and more like this leak was getting deadlier by the day which was why when Billy asked who she was, he claimed he didn't know.
It hadn't taken him more than a few minutes to find her in the DMV database though. Amanda King, 4247 Maplewood Drive and it had taken even less time to find a change of clothes in his Agency locker and be on his way.
"Where are you going?" Billy asked as he met him heading down the hallway to the elevator. "You've been up all night – why aren't you trying to catch some shuteye in the med center?"
"No rest for the wicked, Billy," he replied without breaking stride. And I'm never sleeping again until I know Amanda King is well and truly out of the picture on this.
He'd arrived at her house as she was driving away, and followed her to Moby's Dock, still trying to figure out how to get her alone. It was only a matter of $20 and a lame excuse about wanting to surprise his girlfriend that netted him a borrowed car hop uniform and an attempt to talk to her. He couldn't blame her panic when she saw him, nor for driving away but he knew as long as she still had that information, she was in trouble.
His relief when she finally called him was almost overwhelming – she was still alive in this version and he still had a chance to salvage his career. His day was looking bright again – or it was until it went to hell in a handcart. Well, not a handcart – more like a go cart – and he still didn't have the package back that would keep her safe.
He knew he was exhausted – it was probably why he'd lost his temper so quickly with her when she didn't bring the package to the party, and again when it turned out her helpful mother had mailed the damn thing – but until he had that parcel, he couldn't be sure who would die next, and all he knew was that he didn't want it to be her. He liked her, he couldn't help it - she'd tried to save him last time, racing back along the platform to try and stop the Borises from beating him, with no thought for herself. She was a good person, a brave person, and with the most expressive eyes he thought he'd ever seen… But he'd watched the light go out of those beautiful eyes too many times already and he didn't think his heart could take it if he ever had to see her helpless and bleeding again.
So he'd given her a firm goodbye on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial, and walked away without a backward look. Maybe, he thought, maybe this whole repeating thing was finally done, somehow, some way he'd broken the spell- he'd been relieved of duty and he could finally sleep.
When Amanda called him again, insisting she had a clue, the switchboard was so used to his various girlfriends calling that they patched her through to his home number without even checking the notice that would have told them he was suspended – and then he'd hardly hung up from her before Billy was calling as well to tell him he was back on the job.
The guy guarding him had been baffled when Lee woke up in the root cellar and started to laugh.
"What's so funny, Pretty Boy?" he growled, unnerved by Lee's good humor.
"It's a great day to be alive, Natasha," answered Lee, grinning. "I'm warm, dry, indoors… it looks like it's a lovely new day out that little window. What's not to be happy about?"
"Well, you're about to be shipped off to Moscow to be debriefed," leered the goon. "That should wipe that smile off your face."
"Oh, I'm not worried. I stopped being scared of anything about 90 times ago," said Lee cheerfully. "Besides, by the time you get me to Russia, Operation Pinocchio will have wiped your network out over here, and it won't matter."
"Operation Pinocchio? What's that?"
"Oh, like I'd share that with a low level punk like you," replied Lee, shaking his head with apparent amusement. "I want to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey."
The goon had glared at him for a few second before stalking to the door. "I'll be back, Stetson. I say you're lying. There's no Operation Pinocchio."
"Could be," said Lee. "If I'm not lying, you were very smart not killing me at that warehouse. If I am lying, at least I bought myself some time."
He remained almost giddy while they loaded him in the helicopter. If they were going to kill him by dropping him out of it, one of two things was going to happen- he was going to die, which had long since ceased to hold any fear for him, or he was about to wake up back in Dupont Circle and this time, this time, all he'd have to do is find a phone and call Billy to tell him everything he'd found out about Mrs. Welch. Nobody would die – not Jeffries, not Francine, not Amanda…
That was the moment her head had popped up from behind the car and his jaw had dropped open in stupefaction. What the hell?
He had no time to think then as this ridiculously brave and undoubtedly insane woman ran up and distracted the guy long enough for Lee to incapacitate him with a swift kick to the chest. Seconds later, they were in the air, weaving precariously between the treetops while he yelled instructions and she yelled back at him in equal panic. And then, somehow, unbelievably she'd done it – kept them in the air, outrun Mrs. Welch and her henchmen and managed to land a helicopter all while talking a mile a minute and barely listening to his instructions.
Back on terra firma, he hadn't even had time to catch his breath before she was yammering on about having to get home to get dinner in the oven for her family before her mother started to worry, especially because of the way she'd run off earlier and then there was something about clams that Lee didn't even try to make sense of. It seemed inconceivable that she could be this calm under literal fire, but he managed to stem the flow of words long enough to get her bundled into a car with Fred Fielder and strict instructions to get her home safe.
The next day she was in Billy's office, cheerfully telling the whole story of how she'd figured out where he was while he was itching to get her out of there as quickly as possible. He didn't like it – she should never have been involved in this, he'd watched her die ten times already, maybe more and even if he'd woken up this morning to find himself safely in his own bed, he wasn't going to sleep properly again until he knew for certain she was out of this for good. He was nodding along with her version of events, counting the minutes until he could get her out there when he heard it.
"Uh, if there's a need, I trust we can count on your help upon occasion?" Billy was asking her and she was looking… intrigued.
"What?" he interrupted. No, no, no – this was not going to happen.
Billy was smiling at him with mischief. "Well, Lee, we do use civilians from time to time. She's anonymous, idealistic, responsible, and besides, maybe having her around will help you to be more careful."
Lee looked with real horror at Amanda who was blushing and looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Does this job pay anything?" she asked, apparently taking Billy seriously. "I mean, I have been looking for work…"
Nope, nope, nope. Lee straightened up and grabbed her arm to help her out of her chair. "Say good-bye, Amanda," he said firmly, starting to drag her to the door.
"Good-bye, good-bye," repeated Amanda dutifully, although he noticed her eyes narrow slightly at the little wave Francine was giving them.
"Scarecrow?" he heard Billy call him back. "I think we've finally found you a partner."
"Knock it off, Billy," he answered through gritted teeth.
"Oh, you two are darling together," teased Francine. "I understand she knits or something."
Lee opened his mouth to say something nasty but paused at the welcome sight of a lively Francine grinning up at him as if she hadn't died in his arms twice in the past two days. "I'd button it, Loose Lips," he shot back, hiding his grin at the moue of annoyance she gave him.
Amanda was waiting for him just outside the door, brow raised questioningly since she'd missed Billy's last comment. "Everything okay?" she asked.
"Everything's fine, Mrs. King," Lee answered. "Now how about we get you out of here and home safe where you belong?"
She was quiet most of the ride up the elevator, giving her guest pass to Mrs. Marston with polite thanks and letting him usher her out onto the street and start to walk her back to her car, but suddenly she was doing that thing again, that mile a minute chatter that washed over him like a tidal wave. It was kind of endearing but he refused to enjoy it.
"So, if I work here, does that mean that I work with you? I mean, that's what you do, isn't it? You have partners? But you know, I might need some special training. I'm not sure I have the right skills. I mean, I type, I don't shoot, you know? But I do love this area. Oh, I'm crazy about it. All the fresh vegetables come in here, and besides that, the boys' dentist is right around the block, so what I could do is, I could drop them off at the dentist, then I could go into spy headquarters, and then I could pick up a fresh melon all at the same time. Do you have a good vegetable man?"
He stopped dead and turned to stare at her through narrowed eyes. She was smiling at him in a way that suggested she was intentionally trying to get under his skin. "Amanda, you are not going to be my partner. You are not going to work at the Agency. You are going to go back to your nice safe life in Arlington and that's the end of this, do I make myself clear?"
Amanda tilted her head and studied him carefully. "Well, I think Mr. Melrose meant it, so if it's all the same to you, I'll wait to hear that from him. I think I'd make a good spy or whatever you people call yourselves, even if you don't." She turned and began to walk toward her car, leaving Lee staring in disbelief at her back.
Over my dead body, Amanda King. I've done it 100 times before and I'll do it again. You are not dying on my watch ever again.
And yet somehow, deep down, he knew this wasn't the end of it. He raised his eyes to the heavens. "Very funny," he muttered and he could almost swear he could hear it… Man makes plans… and God laughs.