Chapter Text
Amanda King frowned at the documents in front of her. They were in English, so she technically understood she was reading, but the phrases didn’t actually make sense. There were few commonalities, fewer insights, and almost no patterns at all. She flipped back and forth from document to document, looking for something — anything — that would make it make sense, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was increasing her frustration.
A pair of hands came out of nowhere to cover her eyes, breaking the intense concentration she’d developed. Jumping, she tried to turn, but the arms around her held her firmly in place. Panic began nibbling at the edges of her mind as she reached up, clawing at her assailant, but then she heard a familiar chuckle. “At least you remembered to lock the door.”
“Lee!” she scolded. “A lot of good that one of your ‘security precautions’ did me. You know better than that, especially now that I’ve passed Stanley’s class. What if I’d tried to flip you again? I almost really hurt you that time in the kitchen, and this could’ve been worse! Even from this angle, I could’ve —”
“First off,” he began as one set of fingers began to trail her hairline, “I’m not just anyone. I remember the kitchen, so I’d have been prepared if you tried that. Second, are you challenging me to a wrestling match?” He laughed as he came around her desk to face her. “Here? Now?”
“Of course not,” she grumbled, determined to ignore the tantalizing sensations from her neck. “I have work to do.”
“But maybe later?” he asked hopefully.
“Don’t you have work to do?” She was trying to keep her tone and expression serious, but it was a losing battle.
“We’re taking a break.” He leaned in for a kiss. “Done with the interrogations, but then there’s the meeting with Legal so we can talk about our court strategy.”
“Ugh.”
“Exactly. I need a little bit of sugar to keep me going.”
She gave up on being stern. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me anyway.” He stole another kiss before peeking over her shoulder. “Are those the Middle East transcripts? I’ve been reading your interim reports. You’ve been working pretty hard on those.”
“Yeah,” she answered. There had been a lot of chatter about Syria and Libya recently, but it was coming to them in a jumble of bits and pieces. While the steno pool had handled the transcriptions, she was working on matching up data to find patterns and consistencies. So far, she’d come across both Muammar Gaddhafi’s and Abu Nidal’s names multiple times, so there seemed to be something, but —
“Hey,” he interrupted. “Stop for a second. You need a break too.”
“I guess I could spare a few minutes,” she allowed.
“That’s all I need. What are you doing on Saturday night?”
“What?”
“Saturday night,” he repeated. “The day after tomorrow. Or had you forgotten that date?”
“That date?”
“October 3rd. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do.” She began to laugh. “Seriously? You want to celebrate our first meeting?”
“Why not? It’s the first anniversary of that date since we got married, and we have a lot to celebrate. You’re healing and back to work, Joe has the boys, your mother thinks I’m an eleven and she won’t mind staying home by herself —”
“Assuming she doesn’t have a date,” Amanda murmured. “Which she probably does.”
“— and I have a special bottle of wine that’d be perfect after a special night out. What do you say?”
“That’d be fun. What did you have in mind?”
He shook his head. “Hm-mm. It’s going to be a surprise. Which is why I need you to take a break, so I can call for the reservations.”
She made a face. “Can’t you call from your car?”
“I could if I were going to be in it. But,” he continued, and now he was the one who sighed. “I don’t think either one of us is going to leave before six, which is when they cut off for weekend requests. I know I won’t be, anyway.”
“Yeah, me either.” She folded her hands on her desk. “Since you won’t let me help out with whatever case you’re working on right now.”
“I already told you. AOS-14 and up. I can’t say anything to anyone lower than that.” He knelt down next to her. “I wish I could. It’d be nice to hear your take.”
“I know,” she acknowledged, but her lips thinned. Spouses were frequently offered clearance to the same level as each other, even when they didn’t both work for the government. It allowed Federal employees a useful safety valve, while also preventing marital problems related to keeping secrets. Both tended to have a positive impact on the affected employees.
Of course, spousal clearance required actually acknowledging the marriage first.
“That’s actually something I wanted to talk about this weekend,” said Lee, guessing her line of thought. “Maybe it’s time to let your mother and the boys in on a little bit more. Both personally and professionally.”
“Oh? Any particular reason?”
“Their questions have gotten pretty pointed.”
“I haven’t heard anything like that.”
“Dividing and conquering. They always hit me with the tough ones when you’re upstairs or outside.” He took a breath and exhaled through his nose. “I’m worried they’re getting close to jumping to conclusions. The wrong ones.”
“That wouldn’t be good.”
“No. Plus, I think it might be time to get them into some of the family training classes here, anyway, so we’d also have to —” the rest of his sentence was cut off by the ringing of his desk phone. He pushed to his feet to answer it. “Stetson.”
There was a pause, during which he glanced at her. “Yeah, she is.” Then another, longer pause, during which his face went completely blank.
Amanda felt her heartbeat accelerate. He rarely did that anymore, now that she was a full-fledged agent. “What is it?”
He held up a hand and shook his head. “Okay. Yeah, thanks, Billy. We’ll get over there as soon as possible.” There was yet another pause. “I know, and I appreciate it. I’ll give you a call as soon as we find out more.” When he hung up, he closed his eyes, rubbing them in a familiar gesture.
“What is it?” she asked again.
He opened his eyes again, and the blank expression was gone, replaced by something else. Something so awful as to be terrible.
“Lee?”
He knelt back down beside her chair, but this time he turned it gently so that she was facing him. Then he took both her hands. “Amanda, I’m sorry. I, ah, I —” his voice caught. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
He swallowed. Hard. That was when she realized he was shaking.
“Whatever it is,” she told him, “it’s all right.”
“No.” His eyes began to shine underneath that horrible look. “It’s not. There’s…” he trailed off. “There’s been an accident. We need to get over to the hospital right away.”
“An accident? What happened?”
He swallowed again. “It’s…it’s Phillip. And your mother.”