Screen Captures Courtesy of Swoopes

For personal use and select distribution only © May 2002 by Amber Stockton

Over the Limit - tagalogue

Written by Tom Ropelewski (excerpts from the episode belong to him)

 

Lee and Amanda both breathed a sigh of relief after saying goodbye to the Sullivans and wrapping up the last loose end of the Trans-Oceanic case with O'Keefe. They headed away from the Lizzy III and began to walk along the docks. "You're probably busy tonight, right? PTA, Den Mothers club?" Lee gestured vaguely with his right hand and rested his left on his hip.

Amanda looked up at him as he spoke. She shrugged and shook her head. "No."

"Your mother's card club?"

"Nope!"

"Oh!" This was a very pleasant surprise. Amanda always had something happening in the evenings, but since tonight was open, he certainly wasn't going to let an opportunity like this get away from him. He paused and she stepped in front of him, then turned to face him, and he realized it was now or never. "Well, I thought maybe, uh ... I thought maybe we'd have dinner tonight. You know, just the two of us ... alone."

She smiled. "Well, you and Leslie have a dinner party at the Russian Embassy tonight."

"Uhh, yeah ... uh," he hedged, averting his eyes for a moment and becoming a little uncomfortable as he faltered with his words. "She won't be lonely, believe me. She's working, anyway. She's got her own invitation." He watched a quick but endearing smile appear with every word he spoke that put Leslie out of the picture. "No, I thought a nice steak, a bottle of red wine, baked potato on the side ... no shop talk for a change?" She didn't seem to be taking the bait, and he was a little worried that she might not agree, but when he mentioned that there wouldn't be any shop talk, she responded with a smile. "You know, we don't do enough of that. Do we?" he added for good measure.

She shook her head and a soft look entered her eyes. There was also the hint of what he perceived as a note of triumph, but that didn't fit the Amanda he knew, so he ignored it. Instead, his gaze focused on her eyes, which brightened when she replied. "Not by a half!"

He laughed, then nodded towards the parking lot where his car was parked and reached out his left arm. "Come on!" He placed his hand at the small of her back and gently encouraged her to walk with him.

During the short walk up the docks, then ascending the wooden steps the parking lot, Lee's thoughts encompassed a tumult of emotions. He was relieved that she had agreed to have dinner with him, and anticipated the evening ahead of them. At the same time, he worried about what they would discuss. It seemed every time they were together, work somehow managed to creep into the conversation. Even when they were passing time on assignment, neither one of them seemed to be able to put their work at the Agency behind them long enough to have a simple conversation. Tonight was certainly going to be a test, in more ways than one.

They reached the 'Vette, and Lee opened the door for Amanda, then offered his hand to assist her in getting into the car. She nodded up at him, and he closed the door, then walked around the front and joined her on the driver's side. The engine roared to life a moment later. He put the car in gear, then backed it out of the space, turning the wheel as he headed for the road. After several minutes of silence, Lee began to get a little worried. Amanda was never this quiet for this long, unless something was bothering her. So, he cast quick glances at her out of the corner of his eye and saw a mixture of emotions cross her face.

"Lee?"

He released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Yeah?"

"Does the 'no shop talk' rule begin now or when we're having dinner?"

That was the last thing he had expected her to say, and the words made him laugh. His tense grip on the steering wheel relaxed, another action he hadn't noticed. Here he was, worried that something was bothering her, and she only wanted to know if it was all right to talk about work or not. If it would get her talking again, he certainly wasn't going to shut the door on the topic. "How about we say from the moment we get to my place?" he suggested as a compromise, glancing sidewase at her.

A sigh escaped her lips and he noticed that she seemed to relax a little in her seat. "In that case, I wanted to thank you for going along with my gut feeling that Elizabeth wasn't involved in those murders."

"Well, your gut feelings have usually proven right, so there was no reason for me to doubt it this time," he answered simply. "Besides, once I met her myself, I knew she couldn't have done something like that."

"Oh? How so?"

"She just didn't seem the type." He looked over at her to find her eyes already on him. "A lot like you ... helping with environmental organizations, involved with her children, and looking for a better life for her family..." He grinned. "You know, the typical suburban mother."

"Ohh, typical are we? I'll have you know, Stetson, that a housewife or suburban mother or wife is the least typical person you'll ever meet!" Her tone was decidedly defensive. "We wear so many different hats and play so many different roles, it's hard to tell who we are from time to time."

"No argument there!"

"We..." She paused, as if his words had just now registered, and he could feel her gaze on him. He kept his eyes on the road, though, and the telltale grin in check. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't even have to look at her to know that her right fist was propped on her hip. The grin he had been trying to hold back found its way to his lips. "Just that after getting to know you, I realize that my impression of the suburban housewife wasn't exactly accurate, and I'm agreeing with your assessment. You should know, after all, speaking as one of them." He paused and glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the road as he turned off the road along the Potomac and headed into Georgetown. "It's why I knew I could trust your instincts on this case with Mrs. Sullivan."

He sensed her smile and knew that a slight tinge of pink had probably appeared on her cheeks. "Well," she began, sounding slightly chagrined, "after talking with her at the Save the Bay office and again at the rally, I just knew she wasn't capable of doing something so terrible. Then, when Francine brought in those surveillance photos, and I saw Kurt Magneson ... Richards ... I knew he was somehow involved."

"And as usual, your instincts proved right! Mrs. Sullivan and Save the Bay were obviously getting too close for comfort for O'Keefe and Trans-Oceanic, so he needed a way to get her out of his hair. Seemed like the perfect plan to hire Magneson to kill Rawlings, then pin it on Mrs. Sullivan. Then, when the cops were getting too close, they get rid of Magneson and his connection to them, plant the diary, and continue with their underhanded dealings." He turned the corner and slowed his car to a stop in front of his apartment building. Softening his voice, he added, "They forgot to consider one very important detail, though."

"What was that?"

Lee turned in his seat to face her and grinned. "They didn't count on a resourceful housewife who who refuses to quit until her theory is proven correct."

The rays of light from the sunset cast a rosy glow on Amanda's face, but when she ducked her head, Lee knew the glow was also from the pink in her cheeks. After a moment, she recovered. "You helped too, you know! If you hadn't managed to get into Trans-Oceanic and run that bluff on O'Keefe, you never would have gotten the call that led you back there."

"Speaking of which, how did you happen to be there when Francine and I arrived?" He pinned her with a reproachful stare.

She ducked her head and appeared contrite. "Well, I didn't want to just go home and wait, so I went back to Trans-Oceanic and happened to see the bomb that was planted for you. I was curious as to what the man was doing, but when I saw you pulling into the lot, I knew what he had planned. So, I tipped the crates over on him to distract him enough for you to get by, and ... the rest you know." She shrugged and offered an apologetic smile.

He reached out and covered her left hand with his right and smiled in return. "Well, I'm glad you did," he said in a soft voice. "Because you saved my life, and Francine's."

"Just..."

"Don't say it," he interrupted her. "Saving lives is far and above your job, and you know it." He paused. "But, I am grateful." He gave her hand a quick squeeze and a light pat, then shut off the engine and reached for the door. "So, are you ready for some dinner?"

"Starved!"

He chuckled, then got out and walked around to open the door for her. She once again dropped his keys in his hand as soon as she got out of the car, and he shook his head. One more thing he had come to expect from her, and one more way he depended on her.

"After you."

His right hand extended in front of them, and his left found its familiar place at the small of her back as she began walking.

Together, they went up the outside steps to his building, him holding the door for her when they reached it, then they proceeded towards the elevator. Lee pressed the button, and when the doors opened, she stepped in first. The ride up was in silence. When the bell sounded for his floor, he stepped aside and allowed her to exit ahead of him before guiding her towards his apartment.

He grasped the key to his door and allowed the rest to dangle on the chain. When the lock clicked, he turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, his hand gesturing in a sweeping motion as he silently invited her to enter. For a brief second, he swore that he saw her hesitate on the threshhold, as if weighing the situation in her mind and realizing that this visit to his apartment had nothing to do with Agency business. Every other time she had been here, it was somehow tied to a case. This time was different. They both knew it.

Before he could analyze anything further, she stepped through the doorway and into his apartment. He immediately followed, closing the door behind him and tossing his keys on the table by the sofa. She paused by the couch, and he stepped around her to head for the kitchen. The first thing to be done was to pull out the steak and locate his broiling pan to cook them. He unwrapped the meat, thankful for his foresight in defrosting the steak overnight. It would be ready in just a few minutes.

He turned the knob on the stove and set the temperature to broil, then set out the spices and seasonings for the steak. Two baking potatoes from the wire basket on the counter would compliment the steak perfectly. A smile crossed his lips as he realized once again what a lifesaver Mrs. Gilbert had been in giving him these. He really hadn't felt like buying an entire five pounds of potatoes for just one dinner.

Amanda suddenly spoke from the doorway. "Looks like you were pretty sure I'd say yes."

He spun around and saw her leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her, her lips pursed, and one eyebrow raised as she looked at him.

"Yeah ... uh..." He faltered, casting a quick look over his shoulder at the steak and potatoes, then returning his gaze back to her.

"And if I hadn't?"

Her challenge reminded him of those same words she had uttered when he had invited her to the Kennedy a couple of weeks ago.

"It would have been steak and potatoes for one!" He turned around to hide the grin that affirmed how well he knew her and began to massage the seasonings into the meat. Tonight had just been a hunch.

"So, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You could...." He looked at the simple meal he was cooking, paused to put the pan in the broiler, then straightened again and stepped over to the cupboard, "set out the plates and silverware."

"I can do that."

Her presence in his tiny kitchen made him become very alert. He pressed as close to the counter as he could, reached up to retrieve two plates from the shelf, then opened the drawer below and pulled out two forks and two knives. All of this, he set on the plates and turned to hand everything to Amanda. When he did, she was right there. The scent of her perfume mixed with the pungeant aroma of the sizzling steak in the oven did odd things to his senses. She reached out to take the plates, and their hands brushed. He fought the urge to quickly retract his own, but she disappeared into the other room, and he shrugged it off.

Instead, he turned his attention to the potatoes. Thankful he had the foresight to bake them ahead of time, he only had to reheat them. So, he quickly opened the oven door and switched the two tinfoil-wrapped potatoes to the lower rack. This way, they would have the advantage of the heat from the broiler. It was much easier to reign in his thoughts and keep his mind focused on the task at hand, than it was to allow it to wander and dwell on his dining companion in the next room.

As if his thoughts had summonded her, Amanda popped her head back into the kitchen. "All done! Anything else?"

He grinned. "It really bugs you to not be in charge of the dinner, doesn't it?"

Her quick reply contradicted the words she spoke. "Not at all."

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a knowing look as he crossed his arms. "Uh-huh."

"Well, all right ... so, I feel a little odd not being the one in the kitchen. Can you blame me?"

"No, I guess not." He dropped his arms and nodded at the stove. "Well, our dinner has to cook for another fifteen minutes, so..."

"You know, I had a question."

"Yeah?"

"When you first came into the kitchen, I walked over to your record player and noticed some pretty old jazz albums stacked next to the cabinet. Did you find them at a flea market or something or were they given to you?"

Leaning back against the counter and crossing one ankle over the other, he crossed his arms again, only this time, he was more relaxed. She assumed her previous pose against the doorframe.

"Well, some are more recent findings, but others were either given to me by the Colonel or part of my father's things that managed to be salvaged from his personal belongings. Sonny Rollins and Dizzy Gillespie are ones I've found, but the Duke and Louis albums are all my father's."

"Your father had very good taste." She smiled. "And so do you!"

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "I was influenced at a very young age and never got away from it, nor did I want to. It's hard a lot of times, living with the reality of not really knowing much about my parents, but the hardest part is imagining the type of life they led before I was born and even after. I know they were agents, so there's a whole part of their lives I never knew, and don't know if I ever will."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But, believe me, it's no easier having to face your parent and realize the kind of life they're leading, either."

He was struck by the sadness in her voice. "What do you mean?"

"Well, a couple of days ago, I found out that Mother had been invited to the shore for the weekend by one of Daddy's old fishing partners, and she had agreed to go." She looked down at the floor. "It's hard enough having to accept that my mother actually has a social life, but having a social life that includes spending a weekend with a man that used to fish with Daddy ... well, it's not an easy thing to take."

Her gaze remained fixed on the floor. Lee resisted the overwhelming desire he had at that moment to take her in his arms and comfort her. She looked so forlorn and now, with downcast eyes and fidgeting with her fingers, she seemed to be silently begging for reassurance. The only problem was he wasn't sure he could offer that at the moment. At least not and stop at just comfort.

Startled at the unexpected turn of his thoughts, he shook his head and focused back on the here and now. If he allowed his mind to wander like that, there was no telling what would happen, and he didn't want to risk it to find out. For some reason, he felt there was too much at stake here for him to not maintain complete control.

The pungeant aroma of the seasoned steak assailed his senses. He realized it was time to flip the meat. With silent thanks to the interruption, he pushed himself away from the counter and reached for the tongs, then opened the broiler and reached in to turn the meat. He glanced into the oven at the potatoes, then nodded at how well everything seemed to be going. When he turned back around, Amanda was no longer there. So, he laid the tongs on the stove and stepped into the other room.

As soon as he did, he heard the familiar strains of one of his father's Duke records. A nostalgic smile formed on his lips. He saw Amanda in front of the record player, her hand lightly resting on the edge, and allowed himself the luxury of watching her. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he found himself wondering why he had taken the time to pursue Leslie. Sure, she was fun and attractive and had enough exposure to some of the same people and situations as him, but outside of that, their relationship wasn't as perfect as he had thought.

When he had found out she was in town for a while, and they had started dating, he seemed to find some comfort in having her around. The trouble was that on more than one occasion, he had found himself thinking of Leslie as Amanda, Just yesterday, he had even called her Amanda. Now, looking at the one who had occupied his thoughts even when he was with Leslie, he realized why.

They were both about the same height, close to the same hair color, same slender build, but that was where the similarities ended. Leslie was also interesting, vivacious and eager, but there was something more about Amanda that intrigued him. That was exactly why he had let Leslie go to the Embassy tonight without him. He had wanted...

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Amanda sniffle, and he saw her lift her hand to her face, obviously wiping a tear. He felt like he was intruding, in a way, and almost disappeared back into the kitchen, but a little voice inside told him to go to her. So, he did. With slow and quite steps, he approached and came to stand directly behind her. He hesitated, then lifted his hands to gently rest on her shoulders. She stiffened at his touch, then immediately relaxed, and he tenderly pulled her back against him.

"Daddy used to listen to this album all the time," she whispered, and he had to strain to hear her.

He placed a soft kiss on top of her head. "It's one of my favorites, too," he admitted, then lowered his hands to wrap his arms around her waist. Her arms came to rest over his, and they stood there, swaying slightly to the soothing sounds of jazz.

A few moments later, Lee caught the aroma of their dinner. "Our dinner's ready," he whispered into her hair.

"Mmm." She didn't move, and it was obvious she didn't want the moment to end.

He didn't either, but he also knew that if he didn't do something to shift gears, he might do something he knew he'd later regret. The interruption of their dinner was timed perfectly. With great reluctance, he removed his arms from around Amanda's waist and stepped back, then turned and headed for the kitchen. He reached for the oven mitts, opened the broiler pan and pulled out the steak, then opened the oven and grabbed the two potatoes. Pulling back the foil and testing one, he smiled when the fork slid easily through the skin and came back out. Next, he cut a slit in the steak and nodded in satisfaction that it was cooked to perfection.

A minute later, he had the steak cut and divided on their two plates, and a potato next to the pieces. Then, he struck a match and lit the two candles on the table and stepped around the corner to the bar to retrieve the bottle of red wine and two wine glasses. He looked up and saw Amanda coming out of the bathroom and smiled. The corners of her mouth turned up in reply, and she approached.

In silent agreement, they both walked to the table and took their seats. Lee popped the cork on the wine bottle and poured some wine into both glasses, then set down the bottle and handed her one, taking the other in his hand. Their eyes met and held, and Lee felt his heartbeat pick up its pace. Fighting hard to control his breathing, he lifted his glass towards her. "To memories," he said. "The old ones, and ... maybe some new ones."

She slowly raised her glass and clinked it with his, then they both took a sip, their eyes never breaking contact. It was almost as if an invisible bond held them together, and Lee knew this was going to be one of the longest evenings he'd ever spent.

(Continue to Part 2)

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