“E” Is For Eclairs
Author:
Vikki
Disclaimer:
The SMK characters and the Agency belong to Warner
Brothers, Shoot the Moon Productions, and a bunch of other folks more
fortunate than I am. I am merely borrowing them for fun without
profit. This story is mine, however, so please don’t reproduce it
without my permission.
Time line:
Mid to late 4th season
Summary:
(The letter “E” in the third round ABC Challenge) A routine staff meeting leads
to a startling discovery.
Archive:
Smkfanfiction with the other ABC Challenge stories.
Feedback:
All feedback is welcome and appreciated, on or off list.
Notes:
Thanks to Miriam, Fling and dotty for taking the time to review this
little story
for me!
*************************************
Francine
Desmond stood at the edge of the conference room, absently
tapping two perfectly manicured red nails on her clipboard as she
watched her coworkers assemble for the morning staff meeting. Glancing
toward the clock, she frowned in annoyance. She had at least a dozen
items on her
desk that required immediate attention, and she could
count on having half a dozen more after this meeting -- which was
supposed to have started fifteen minutes ago. Lightly running a hand
over her flawless chignon, she realized, at this rate, she wouldn’t be
caught up by dinner time, much less lunch time; she might as well
forget about her hair appointment.
Francine’s
brooding was momentarily diverted by the sight of Fred
Fielder, who was attempting to slouch toward his seat without
attracting Billy’s notice. ‘Some things never change’, she thought
with a soft snort. The previous afternoon, it had taken six people
more than four hours to clean up the fiasco Fielder had caused with one
botched message drop. In fact, now that she considered it, Fielder was
personally responsible for three quarters of the backlog on her desk.
Turning from
her bumbling coworker in disgust, Francine’s blue eyes
idly scanned the room, finally coming to rest on Lee Stetson, who was
already seated near the head of the large oak table. Fielder might
never change, but something was definitely different about Scarecrow
lately. She had
seen the evidence for quite some time, although she
hadn’t really thought much about it until recently. If she had given
it
more than momentary consideration, she probably would have simply
decided that he had finally grown up a little.
Scarecrow had
always been a daredevil; most of his fellow agents might have described him as
intrepid or audacious, while many of his
superiors at the Agency preferred labels such as rash and reckless.
Dirk
in Internal Affairs had once even opined that Lee Stetson had a
death wish. But that was then, and this was now.
Over the last
year, Scarecrow’s mode of operation had changed. He no
longer grabbed for the overseas assignments. Even when plum excursions
to
Paris, Rome, or Vienna were put on the table, he casually stated
that the Q Bureau was keeping him busy. Francine had made a teasing
comment not
long ago that his ISP was going to expire from lack of use,
but
he had simply shrugged his broad shoulders and replied that if he
left the country for a few weeks, the work in the Q would fall
impossibly behind.
Lee no longer
jumped at the jobs that involved the most action, and by
default, the most risk; instead, he carefully evaluated his cases to
determine whether his skills were a good match for the situation. He
no
longer took unnecessary chances: he watched his own back almost as
closely as he watched his partner’s back. In short, he had become more
thoughtful, more responsible, more cautious -- like a man with
something to live for instead of a man with something to prove.
It was a good
change. Probably the result of maturity, Francine
surmised. Other changes, though, were more difficult to decipher.
While Scarecrow’s romantic escapades were practically legend at the
Agency, they seemed to be falling further and further into the past.
She
couldn’t remember the last time Lee had dragged into the Agency,
midmorning, looking like the infamous “midnight rambler.” And
yesterday, Francine had personally overheard several members of the
Steno pool
complaining among themselves that they couldn’t get his
attention. At least two of the grumblers were precisely the kind of
females who used to get a great deal of Lee Stetson’s attention -- but
they were whining that they hadn’t gotten more than a polite smile and
a
distracted greeting for a long, long time.
Studying Lee
this morning, Francine decided that he definitely looked
distracted. He appeared to be reading the case file on the table in
front of him, but every few seconds he glanced up at either the wall
clock or the door. And, unless her keen eyesight was failing her, the
graph at the
top of the page was the same one that had been visible
when he first opened the folder nearly ten minutes ago.
As Francine
watched, Billy approached the head of the table, and Lee
jumped up and laid a hand on his section chief’s arm, an anxious
expression in his hazel eyes. Nonchalantly, and as quietly as possible
given the soft click of her three inch heels, Francine moved closer to
hear their
conversation.
”Morning,
Billy,” Lee began, the casual tone of his voice belying the
concern written clearly on his features. “Um, have you seen Amanda
this morning? It’s not like her to be late for work . . . .” Lee’s
voice drifted off as he shot another look at the clock.
“As a matter of
fact, I spoke to her just before she left home this
morning,” Billy responded with an amused smile. “She’s taking care of
a
little assignment for me on her way in.” He apparently noticed the
way
Lee’s eyes narrowed, because he quickly added a soothing caveat.
“Relax,
Scarecrow. It isn’t a dangerous assignment.”
The words were
barely out of Billy’s mouth before the conference room
door opened, and Amanda King walked in carrying two large pink boxes.
Doughnuts. ‘The only dangerous thing about that particular assignment
is
the possible damage to my hips,’ Francine thought wryly. ‘I wonder
what kind of
miracle it would take for someone to create a fat-free
chocolate eclair.’
Turning back
toward Lee, Francine saw the soft smile that passed
between the two agents as Amanda moved toward her usual seat on Lee’s
left. As his partner neared, Lee reached to help her with the pastry
boxes, his hands lingering on hers for a few moments longer than
necessary. Then
he placed the boxes in the middle of the table, helped
her
into her seat, and -- while most of the occupants of the room were
concentrating on the sugary confections -- leaned toward Amanda and
whispered something into her ear, a teasing smile lightening his
features.
Amanda smiled in return as their eyes met and held, but,
after a moment, she redirected Lee’s attention, with a raised brow and
a
faint nod, toward the neglected file on the table.
As they began
reviewing the file, a look of contentment settled over
Lee’s face. A look, Francine realized, that had become the norm for
him
lately. No longer reckless and restless, Scarecrow had become
content. And suddenly the truth struck Francine, a tiny spark of
suspicion
quickly erupting into a firestorm of certainty: Lee Stetson
was
in love.
As Francine
tried to assimilate this dizzying discovery, Amanda turned
toward her and smiled.
Holding out a
small white bag, Amanda gestured almost imperceptibly
toward Fred Fielder. “I got you a chocolate eclair,” she whispered
conspiratorially as Francine stepped forward in a shocked daze. “I
thought you might need one this morning.”
“Thanks,”
Francine replied automatically as Amanda pressed the
offering into her hands. Glancing from Amanda’s face to Lee’s and back
again, she shook her head slightly before directing her attention to
the
contents of the bag. Lee Stetson in love . . . maybe there *was*
hope for
fat-free eclairs.
The End