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Trial by Fire—the Aftermath

Epilogue 2 Friday morning, 9am Dr. Pfaff’s office within the Agency

Amanda entered Dr. Pfaff’s office on time for her second and last scheduled appointment with the Agency’s psychiatrist.

“Good Morning, Mrs. King.” He greeted her politely.

“Good morning, Dr. Pfaff.” Amanda sat in the same chair she had on the previous day.

“Have a seat, please,” he said as he offered her an ice cream bar, she declined wordlessly, and he lay on the couch and unwrapped his treat, while looking over his notes. “How was the rest of your day yesterday—did you sleep well last night?”

“Oh yes. I went to bed early—I guess I’m still recovering a bit and all that cleaning and laundry really wore me out. And I ache a bit more than yesterday.”

“You still should be taking it easy. That’s why you were given this time off—to rest and recover.”

“Yeah—but you tell the boys to not make a mess or wear so many clothes or get so dirty… Really, the work never stops. There’s always something to do around the house.”

“Have you had any more nightmares or flashbacks?”

She thought a moment, “No. I don’t really remember dreaming last night. I was so beat I just fell asleep and slept straight through to morning.”

“Do you often wake during the night?”

‘No. Well, unless the phone rings or something happens. Since I started this job I have a lot more interruptions in my life than I did before.”

“It’s the nature of the business, Mrs. King. Are you still planning on spending the day baking?”

“Yeah. But I decided to make cupcakes instead of cookies. I can use a mixer with cupcakes—my side is still sore, so hand-mixing cookies probably isn’t a good idea.”

“You could just purchase something and spend the day resting,’” he offered.

“Oh no! They expect homemade goodies—not store bought. Cupcakes are pretty easy—they’re just more fussy.”

“Fussy?” Dr. Pfaff was intrigued in spite of himself.

“Yeah. You have to put the paper cups in the muffin tins and then you have to frost each one and then put on sprinkles—cookies you just mix and bake.”

“I see.” Dr. Pfaff returned to the main topic. “Mrs. King—I feel we need to explore some more about your reluctance to use a gun.”

“Oh gosh—do we have to?”

“There may come a day when you will have to fire a gun in the line of duty.”

“I already have—I shot a pulley.”

“Were you aiming at the pulley?”

“Yes, I didn’t want to hit anyone and the pulley released the net and caught the bad guy. So nobody was hurt!” she said brightly.

“But some day, you may have no choice, you may have to shoot at a person.”

“I really don’t want to hurt anyone…” she said uncomfortably.

“But if your life were on the line? Or your partner’s?”

She sighed heavily. “I know. But Emily says you don’t have to fight rings around the enemy if you can think rings around him.”

“Emily?”

“Emily Farnsworth—she’s with MI-6. She’s a friend of Lee’s—and mine.”

“I see,” he said dryly. “Well, be that as it may—some day it may come down to your pulling the trigger and shooting someone. So you need to train for that day and get used to the idea.”

“I know. I’ll try. I do try. It’s just so hard to shoot at people.”

”Why don’t you like guns, Mrs. King?”

“They’re so dangerous.”

“Why do you think they’re dangerous?”

”Guns can kill people.”

“So can a knife or a baseball bat or a car. Are you afraid of those?”

“No, of course not. I’m just careful.”

“You can be careful with guns, too.”

Amanda sighed exasperatedly. “That’s not it.”

“Then please explain it to me—why are you so resistant to guns?”

She thought a few moments. “OK, I’ll try to explain it. Guns kill people—I mean so can a knife or a baseball bat or a car—but knives and baseball bats and cars have other uses. A gun has one use—to shoot bullets and possibly kill people. Plus a gun can cause lots more damage in a short time—one shot—one bullet—and you’re dead. It usually takes lots longer to kill someone with a knife or a bat. Plus I have two boys—and children—especially boys—are fascinated about guns and stuff like that. They see it on TV and think it’s OK to play around with. I’d be scared to death if I had a gun in my house.”

Dr. Pfaff had been making notes as she spoke and he nodded. “I see. Let’s explore this, shall we?”

“OK.”

“If you were to have a gun at home—you could store it in a gun safe. That way—when it was not in your possession—it would be safely locked away so your boys couldn’t get at it.”

“OK, I see that—but it still makes me nervous to have a gun in the house.”

“Does Scarecrow visit your house?”

“Yes, he stops by now and again.”

“Is he armed when he stops by?”

“I guess so—he really doesn’t make a big deal about it.”

“Does that make you nervous? To have a gun in your house when Scarecrow’s there?”

“Well, it’s Lee—I trust Lee. Besides, he isn’t around if mother and the boys are there.”

“Why is that?”

She looked surprised. “Nobody’s supposed to know I know Lee and that we work together. Not even my family.”

He nodded. “I see. So Scarecrow brings a gun into your house and you have no problem with that.”

“No. He’s a trained agent.”

“Do you think if you got agent training that you might feel differently about guns?”

“Wow! Me getting agent training! That would be exciting—of course I haven’t qualified—I’ve been through Station One—twice—and didn’t pass either time. So I won’t get the training.”

“But if you did get the training…”

“Dr. Pfaff—I’ve been told over and over that “what if” isn’t something a good agent dwells upon—just what is—how it really happens.” She folded her arms decisively.

Dr. Pfaff sighed and pinched his nose. “Mrs. King, we’re trying to explore your reluctance to use a gun. We have to do a certain amount of “what if” to do that effectively.”

“Oh,” She replied quietly.

“So can you imagine that you’ve gotten agent training—and how that might make you feel about using a gun?”

“Well—I guess—if I’ve gotten the full training course—self-defense and all the drug resistance stuff and developing a mantra—all of that—I’d probably feel less scared about using a gun.”

Dr. Pfaff wrote furiously. “Speaking of drug resistance, you did remarkably well resisting the first drug given you.”

“Oh. Thank you, Dr. Pfaff.”

“Do you remember how you managed that?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you resist the drug’s effects—how did you manage to tell them nothing except,” he consulted his notes, “the secret ingredient for your poppy-seed cake?”

“Um, I’ve got to think about that one.” She thought for a few moments, “Well, first they thought I was Lee—they thought I was Scarecrow. The mean man kept asking me, ‘Tell me all of Scarecrow’s secrets.’ I’m not Scarecrow and though I may know a couple of Lee’s secrets I sure don’t know them all, so I couldn’t tell them anything anyhow because how can I tell them what I don’t know?”

Dr. Pfaff looked surprised. “Do you mean to say that if they had asked you to tell them all of Amanda King’s secrets you would have done so?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. I mean—everyone has so many secrets—like where I hide the marshmallows and that I work at the Agency—which is IFF except IFF is just a cover for the Agency—except IFF does actually produce documentary films so it is really a film company… I’m not sure what I would have said if they asked about my secrets.”

Dr. Pfaff shook his head again. “So let me get this straight—they asked you to tell them Scarecrow’s secrets—and because you weren’t Scarecrow you couldn’t tell them anything.”

She nodded, “I guess that’s it. Plus I knew Lee was coming to get me so I knew it was just a matter of time—if I could just hold out until he got there I’d be OK.”

“You mentioned that before—you ‘just knew’ Stetson was coming for you. How did you know that?”

She smiled to herself, “I just know. I suppose it’s like mother’s intuition—only I’m not Lee’s mother—but I just know if he’s coming to get me or if he’s in trouble.”

“How long have you had this … ability?”

She thought, “A long time. It was really confusing. Do you remember the Russell Sinclair case? When Lee was attacked and Mr. Melrose put it out that Lee had died?” He nodded and she continued. “There was a funeral and everything. I was really sad and upset—but I was also confused—because it didn’t feel like Lee was dead, you know? Not that Lee’s ever really been dead but it was like I still could feel him out there—like he was still around—which he was. But I didn’t know it at the time. And it was the first time I’d gone through something like that.” She bowed her head.

“Mrs. King, have you felt this connection to anyone else in your life?”

“Well, my boys of course,” she got quiet, “and daddy…”

“Can you tell me about that?”

She took a deep breath. “He had a heart attack in the summer—and we got him to the hospital right away. He was at home for a while but he recovered OK. The doctor told him to change his diet—less salt, low fat—stuff like that. And exercise. We’d go for long walks together once he recovered fully. We all thought he was OK—but in December—a couple weeks before Christmas—I was at school working at cheerleading practice—he had a big heart attack at work—I felt him … go.” She sighed deeply. “I knew right then I had to go home and be with mother. I guess someone from work called mother and then she called the school because one of my teachers came looking for me and took me to the hospital. Mother was there and they said they were trying to save him but I knew he was already … dead.” She took a tissue and wiped her eyes. “I was so sad but I was also angry that they were lying to us—saying he was still alive when he was already dead. That was during my Junior year in High School. I was 16. That Christmas was really awful. But mother and I did our best—and we tried to remember all the nice Christmases we had had over the years. I guess that’s why Christmas is so important to me.”

“Do you have this connection with your mother?”

“I don’t know. Mother’s never been really sick or in danger—so I’m not sure.”

“What about the connection with your boys?”

“I pretty much can tell when they’re sick and when they’re faking—but I guess that’s normal for a parent. Sometimes I’ve known when they got sick at school. Oh, and when Philip fell out of Andy McKaskell’s tree and hurt his arm—we were all worried it was broken but it was just a bad bone bruise. He still had to wear a brace because he sprained his wrist …”

“Don’t you think that feeling will help you protect your boys if you need to use a gun?”

“What?”

“If you owned a gun—you would ‘know’ if they got into trouble with it.”

“Dr. Pfaff—I’d rather I never had to worry about that. Besides—my knowing didn’t save daddy—or protect Philip from falling out of that tree—I just knew that it happened. And if they found the gun and managed to shoot it—oh gosh! That’s just too awful to think about!”

Dr. Pfaff sighed. “Let’s come at it from another angle. You said a gun kills more easily…”

“One bullet and you could be dead.”

“Do you know the statistics for shots fired that kill?”

“Statistics?”

“Roughly 237 shots are fired for every one that actually kills. Those are Agency statistics.”

“I see.”

“So you see—“

She interrupted him, “Does that include practice?”

“Practice?”

“Yeah, I mean you have to practice with your gun at the range every month once you qualify—so that’s at least 50 shots a month there—are those shots fired included in that statistic? Because if they are the odds are much higher…”

“I think the statistics measure shots fired in the line of duty—not practice.”

“It’s still a big risk.”

“237 to one?”

“Sure. How often are you in a car accident if you drive or even ride in a car or a bus? How often do planes crash? How often are people struck by lightning? 237 to one is pretty bad odds.”

“I see.”

“Besides, if the boys found the gun and were playing with it—that’s not shots fired in the line of duty.”

Dr. Pfaff wrote a few more notes. “Mrs. King, let’s talk about shooting at people.”

“If we have to…”

“We have to. Now, during a case you did discharge a weapon—but you shot at a pulley. You said the shot dislodged a net and caught the bad guy and nobody was hurt. Why?”

“Like I said at the time—I wasn’t very good and I couldn’t shoot a person so I thought shooting the pulley would be best.”

“But the pulley was so much smaller than a person…”


“But I also thought even if I didn’t hit the pulley, the shot would distract the bad guy and Lee or Francine would get the jump on him. And it worked, so it was OK.”

“Yes, but if you had missed, or if the bad guy hadn’t been distracted…”

“A good agent doesn’t play “what if.””

He echoed “what if” with her.

“Mrs. King, most agents never kill in the line of duty. Most rarely discharge their weapons.”

“I don’t know about most agents. I’ve mostly only worked with Lee—and I’ve seen a lot of gunfights and dead people. Ugh! What a thing to say…”

“Nobody likes to see dead people—or kill people—well, no normal person.”

“I know,” she nodded, “I’ve met some of the bad guys—the really bad ones—I know they exist but I just can’t imagine how a person could get that way…”

“Would you feel more comfortable starting with shooting at targets?”

“I’ve done that—I’m OK, I guess—but it’s still shooting a gun…”

“Would you agree to a few more practice sessions with Leatherneck?”

She sighed, “Yes, of course. But I still hate the idea of shooting at people—even if they’re not real—just simulations. They want you to shoot at children and nuns and other people.” She looked down at her hands. “I just can’t do it,” she said softly.

“We all would appreciate it if you would try again, Mrs. King. Mr. Melrose is especially anxious to have you qualify.”

“I know. I’ll try.”

Dr. Pfaff consulted his notes. “You remember yesterday when we talked about your social life?”

‘Here it comes,’ Amanda thought. “Yes,” she answered calmly.

“You said you don’t have time for dating.”

“I really don’t with this job and the boys and keeping up with the house.”

“Mrs. King, everyone needs some time off in their lives. You need to make some time for yourself.”

“I do. I have my quiet evenings. I really treasure those.”

“I have an idea—maybe you could consider allowing yourself one evening a week—Friday or Saturday—and go on dates then.”

She sighed, “I might—but again the boys’ schedule usually dictates my schedule outside work.”

“What do you do when your job requires you to work out-of-town or overnight?”

“Mother helps out. I’m really glad she’s living with us.”

“Couldn’t your mother stay in and allow you one night a week for dating?”

“She could—but I don’t want to take advantage of her. Philip and Jamie are my boys—my children. I know I have to work—I want to work—but I am also still a mother and I don’t want to make my mother do what I should be doing myself.”

“Your mother already helps you out—you said so yourself.”

“Yes, she does—but I don’t want to take advantage of her. She has her own life, too.”

“You need your own life, Mrs. King.”

“I have a life—a good life—really it’s very full with the Agency and my family—and I’m happy.”

“But you seemed dissatisfied with the fact that you don’t date.”

“Oh gosh! I’d also like to be a millionaire but I won’t get that. Everyone has things in their lives they wish they had but they don’t. I’d rather think about how many good things I have—a good job—an interesting, exciting, challenging job—a wonderful loving family—a nice home and a good life. Once the boys are off to college I’ll have time for myself—though I’ll probably miss the boys terribly.”

Dr. Pfaff took another tack, “Since your ex-husband moved back to the states—does he share custody of the boys?”

“Joe takes the boys every other weekend—well, he’s supposed to take the boys every other weekend but he’s so busy with his job that he doesn’t always take them on schedule—or sometimes at all.” She sounded a bit exasperated.

“Does that upset you?”

“The boys didn’t see much of Joe while he was in Estoccia. When he got back he said he really wanted to spend time with the boys—but I worry it’s the same old pattern again. He does do important work—but so do I and I have time for the boys—as much as I can. Joe doesn’t seem to make much of an effort. He missed most of their games this spring. I’m upset more for the boys than myself—Joe and I are divorced so he’s hurting the boys—not me. I see how disappointed the boys are when he’s made a promise and then backs out. It’s gotten to the point where the boys don’t really believe him if he promises to do something with them. That’s really sad. My boys are too young to be that cynical about their father. And that’s what makes me angry with Joe.”

“I see. Have you considered your lack of dating is a compensation—or better competition with your ex-husband?”

“What?!?” Amanda was confused.

“You are denying yourself time for yourself to date because you need to prove to yourself that you are a better parent than your ex-husband.”

“Dr. Pfaff, that’s ridiculous! I’ve been a mother and father to those boys for almost eight years now—once Joe left for Estoccia I was pretty much left to raise the boys alone.”

“But now your ex is back. Would you consider full joint custody—half time for each of you with the boys?”

Amanda was angry now, “Dr. Pfaff, with all due respect I don’t think you have the right to tell me how to raise my boys. I understand I’m here to help me deal with what happened last week—and it’s helped—really. But when it comes to my boys—well, I’m doing fine, thank you.” She thought agitatedly, ‘I’m beginning to understand why Lee hates these shrinks so much. Talk about trying to run my life…’

“I see. Well our hour is up. Hopefully you will look me up if you have any problems,” Dr. Pfaff said cheerily.

“Yes, thank you Dr. Pfaff. If I have nightmares or flashbacks, I’ll certainly do that.”
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