PART 1
Mistakes happen, we all know that it's a fact of life. Those little
unplanned scenarios that just sort of result because of whatever.
"Mistake my foot," Amanda King grumbled as her concentration was broken
yet again by her partner, who at this moment was paying the price for
one of those little accidental mistakes that just sometimes happen and
play havoc.
"If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he planned this just
to get out of this," she sighed as she looked at the pile of folders now
lying in a heap on her desk.
"He hates that computer, it takes a forensic scientist to make heads or
tales out of his writing, and he really knew that I wanted to spend the
day shopping at K-Mart. Can I help it if I have a mortgage, two
teenagers, and a budget? I mean, really," she continued rambling to
herself, "what thrifty mother could possible turn down Tremendous
Tuesday Take-downs and blue-light specials?"
She looked across the room to Lee, who was wearing a horribly pathetic
smile that just screamed adoration and other lustful thoughts that
Amanda just knew he really wouldn't be thinking if he were in his
right and rational mind.
Amanda couldn't help but sigh at the sight of her partner, who had
no choice but to sit there and stare at her while she did all of the
work. At least now, Amanda thought with a mischevious smile, she could
do their work without further unwarranted interruptions from the
slightly incapacitated Scarecrow.
Part 2
Incapacitated he was, poor thing. But it really was his fault. He'd
been the one to come in this morning with a headache, a real doozy of
one. Not that Amanda had been able to help. She had offered, but
the only thing that she'd found in her purse had been a few Midol
tablets and, while Lee had agreed that they might help some of the
problems in the universe, he really doubted their ability to help him.
So, Scarecrow had actually made his way to the Agency pharmacist,
willingly at that. Only to find the man standing over the counter,
jabbering away excitedly with someone on the other end and hovering
over a silver tray full of little white cups that resembled the ones
you put your ketchup in at Wendy's. Each little cup held a myriad of
capsules, all colors, all shapes, and sizes.
The man had held up his finger, indicting to Scarecrow to be patient
a moment. Finally, after what seemed a very lengthy time to a man
who has no patience and a pounding head, the pharmacist, still
holding the phone to his ear, turned to Lee.
"Problem?"
"Headache," Lee had replied.
The man had nodded, then turned from Lee as the voice on the other
end began talking again, almost loud enough for Lee to hear, if he'd
been interested, which, he wasn't. He began searching for the
correct bottle of medicinal aid for the agent.
Accidental, unintentional, that's how it happened. The pharmacist
was growing more excited with whatever his telephone conversation was
about. He was prancing back and forth as he spoke, the telephone
cord dancing around with him, sometimes brushing over the rainbow of
pills on the counter.
Lee himself was growing impatient and began pacing back and forth
between that counter and the door that led out of the pharmacy, his
mind actually contemplating marching back up to the Q-Bureau and
taking Amanda's Midol tablets and downing a Pepsi. She claimed it
worked for her.
The pharmacist had dumped several headache relief tablets in a little
white paper cup for Lee. Mayhem began when he set them down for a
moment to jot something else down on his tablet.
His eyes now trained on that tablet, the phone jammed between his ear
and his shoulder, and his mind totally focused on the whoever on the
other end, his free hand reached for the cup to hand to the agent.
Less than a minute later the impatient Scarecrow had swallowed down
the tablets with several gulps of water and then hurried out of the
pharmacy, knowing that his partner really wanted to salvage at least
part of the day to do some shopping.
He knew she'd earned it and she'd been a very patient woman the last
several weeks with him. The Scarecrow had every intention of making
sure that she was out of there no later than lunchtime and this was a
promise he very much wanted to keep.
Funny thing, how a simple little mix-up can lead to mayhem.
Part 3
One little mix-up and now Amanda King was eyeing her partner over the
stack of folders on her desk. It had been approximately two hours
since he'd swallowed those little pills and according to the
pharmacist the effects should begin to wear off in about ten, but not
before becoming slightly more exaggerated between three and five
hours.
"Great," Amanda mumbled. "Of course, a lot of the side effects
depend upon the body chemistry and whatever other blah, blah, blah,
he said."
She glanced at her watch and found that it was fifteen minutes after
ten. She'd come in early, hoping to breeze through whatever was
urgent for Lee, head out and do her shopping and come back sometime
after lunch to finish up. Lee had even come in early, knowing her
plans for the day.
"Maybe that's why he had a headache, Lord knows the man isn't a
morning person," she grumbled.
"Manda?" his voice echoed across the room.
She looked up at him and gave him her best motherly smile.
"Yes Lee?"
"How much longer do I have to play the game?"
Amanda had to fight to keep her face composed and give him her best
serious mother look.
"A little while longer. Remember I told you that Mr. Melrose needs
all this work completed? Well, that's how long."
"Okay," he replied, apparently satisfied with the answer.
Amanda supposed that her methods for keeping the Scarecrow out of her
hair and also from being a danger to himself were a little
unorthodox, questionable at best. Then again, she was in the office
of a Federal agent, and that meant utilizing whatever was available
for detaining an individual. That was textbook, Manual Five, Chapter
Three, Detaining Methods and How to Utilize Them.
And, following the early conversation after discovering that Lee had
taken the wrong tablets, she felt justified in her methods. She only
hoped that Lee wouldn't be angry with her for too long, once he came
to his senses.
Her mind wandered back to the earlier conversation as she attempted
to recall anything being mentioned about his recall.
Part 4
It had been only about fifteen minutes after Lee had returned to the
Q-Bureau that Billy, Francine, and the pharmacist had arrived.
When Lee had been told that he had swallowed the wrong thing, he'd
nearly gone ballistic.
"What the hell did I take?" he growled.
"Well, the technical name for the substance that you ingested is long
and you probably couldn't pronounce it if you tried, but the slang
term for it is Mr. Happy."
"What?"
The pharmacist looked at Billy.
"Exacerbated displays of anger," he said with a knowing nod.
"I am not angry!"
"Sir? What exactly are the side effects?" Amanda asked.
Billy looked at the pharmacist, giving him a nod to continue.
"What Scarecrow ingested is a relatively new truth serum, one that we
haven't quite got all of the kinks out of. While it does what we
need it to do, it manifests a myriad of effects, dependent on the
test subject, body metabolism, weight, and other factors. I'm
assuming that by lunch, give or take, depending on Lee's personal
genetic makeup that he'll be spilling his life secrets quite
willingly. He'll also begin to display a wide fluctuation of
emotional, psychological, and hormonal variations, again dependent
upon his body chemistry. Most of the male test subjects seemed to
display a range of adolescent, post-puberty qualities ranging from
quirky hooliganisms to exaggerated displays of what we've politely
termed male testosterone dominance displays. Usually we see no
violent tendencies, just a mellowed persona blended with an
adolescent psyche."
"In English?" Billy growled.
"Oh, he'll basically display whatever personality he had around the
age of sixteen or seventeen, give or take a few years."
Francine snickered.
"Oh, that's just great, a horny Lee Stetson."
"Can it Francine," a chorus of voices told her.
"This is ridiculous," Lee mumbled. "I had a headache, hell, I'd have
been better off taking her Midol," he said as he looked straight at
Amanda.
Everyone looked at Amanda, who just shrugged. "I didn't have any
more Tylenol, Mother must have borrowed them all last week when she
had a really bad migraine and I never got around to refilling my
bottle."
The pharmacist smiled at Amanda.
"You know, I've got some wonderful samples that I could give you to
take to your Mother. They seem to work quite wonderfully on test
subjects prone to migraine, sinus, and cluster headaches, as well as
the kind that some women only seem prone to have once a month. I
could give you some to try as well."
Amanda just gave him a polite smile, not even sure she wanted to know
what might transpire if she took him up on the offer.
"I'll let you know," she told him.
"Oh, and I don't recommend allowing him the keys to his car," the
pharmacist said. "We've also seen cases where the reflex action in
proportion to the judgmental process of such activities is either
decreased or highly increased, again dependent on the test subject's
metabolism. I would really hate to hear that he wrapped it around a
tree."
"So would I," Billy grumbled.
"Give me your keys Lee," Amanda said as she rose from her chair and
walked over to him, her hand held open.
Lee sighed as he stood, then reached into his pocket to pull out his
keys, which he deposited into Amanda's hand without argument.
"Great," he grumbled. "Just freaking great. How am I supposed to
get any work done today? Huh? A simple headache and now I can't
drive, any more good news to share?"
He plopped back down into his chair with a disgusted look on his face.
"Well," Francine said. "Look on the bright side."
"What bright side?" Lee asked her.
Francine turned to the pharmacist, her face begging the man to give
them something positive to work with.
"Well, worst case scenario, he'll display an entire range of these
fluctuations for up to ten to twelve hours. Best case scenario, he
won't hardly display any of them," he shrugged. "All dependent on,"
"Personal metabolism," Billy continued.
"Genetic makeup," Francine said.
"Exactly," the man said, his smile clearly showing that he was
pleased that somebody actually, for once, understood what he was
talking about.
"Amanda," Billy spoke, "I really hate to do this to you, especially
since I did okay your request to only work part of the day, but I
would really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on him. I'd
volunteer to do it myself, but I've got meetings beginning at eleven-
thirty and running throughout the afternoon."
"I'd love to volunteer," Francine added, "but I've got that Thomas
Carl file to finish and a ton of reports to get together for Billy's
two o'clock meeting."
"We could always detain him in one of the debreif rooms," the
pharmacist suggested.
"No way!" Lee yelled. "Look, I may or may not display any of these
symptoms and Amanda really wanted off this afternoon, so I say why
not go about business as usual and see what happens?"
He was giving his partner that look that said he was truly sorry and
that he'd do anything to make it up to her, which was very touching,
even though Amanda highly doubted he'd prove very useful as the day
proceeded.
"Sure," she said with a heavy sigh. "I'll watch him, but if he gets
out of line, you're locking him up."
"Great Amanda," Billy said with a large smile. "I owe you, I'll make
it up to you by fudging payroll. Overtime for today."
"Sir, you really don't have to do that," Amanda told him.
"Trust me Amanda, if you can keep him out of trouble and ensure that
I have one less worry while I'm in those meetings, it's worth
quadruple pay to me."
"Oh, Amanda, take him up on that offer," Francine told her. "You
could go shopping at JcPenny's instead of K-Mart."
"Can it Francine," Amanda told her.
"Francine, I need those reports," Billy quickly interjected.
"I know, I know," the blonde agent said as she headed to the
door. "Oh," she popped her head back in, "Amanda, if he gets to be
too much, just drop him off with the steno pool, I'm sure they'll
know how to handle him."
"Francine!" Billy yelled.
"Call me if you need anything, dear," the pharmacist told her as he
headed out of the Q-Bureau as well. "I'm sure you can handle it,
from what I've heard, you've the patience of a saint with him and
you're still here after what, nearly three years. That alone says
something."
Lee began muttering a string of unholy curses under his breath, some
of which Amanda was half tempted to utter as well, though she
wouldn't because this really was just a simple mistake.
Part 5
After everyone had left them alone, Lee had apologized and Amanda had
told him that it wasn't his fault. Then they had begun to attempt to
get some work done. At first, it hadn't been that bad and Lee didn't
seem to be exhibiting any kind of unusual reactions.
He stayed at his desk; she at hers, and things seemed to be going
rather smoothly. Then, the question arose.
"Lee, I can't read your writing here," she told him as she shook her
head, not able to make heads or tails of what he had written.
He got up from his desk and came to stand behind her, looking down at
the report.
"Hmm," he murmured.
Lee braced his hands on her shoulders and peered down at the
illegible scribbles.
"Gee, I don't know what I was trying to write," he said.
Then, as he leaned his head further down, his hands slid down her
shoulders until both of his palms were resting upon her breasts.
"Uhm, Lee," Amanda barely squeaked out.
"Honest Manda, I don't know," he told her.
Amanda closed her eyes and counted to ten. This was not how she'd
envisioned her morning, the last thing she'd ever imagined was that
her partner would be trying to cop a feel of her breasts.
She squirmed a little, then sighed when his hands did not seem to
have any intention of relocating anytime soon.
"Look," she managed to say in as polite as voice as possible, "I
could use a refill on my coffee, would you mind?"
"Sure," Lee told her.
She exhaled with relief as he picked up her mug and headed to the
coffee maker as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
The last thing she needed to be was distracted with those types of
thoughts, even if they were the type of thoughts that lately seemed
to occupy her mind in the middle of the night when she couldn't fall
asleep. She was at work and the last thing she should be thinking
about was just how darned good it had felt, even though it hadn't
lasted very long.
She raised her eyes from the report and watched him as he poured her
coffee and added just the right amount of creamer to it. For just a
brief moment, she wondered if her breasts were even the right size to
entice her handsome partner. Amanda knew she wasn't exactly over
endowed, heck she'd barely graduated from a training bra to a real
one and that was only after having two kids.
"Stop it," she hissed to herself.
"Who ingested what?" she asked herself as she forced herself to focus
back on the report.
"What did you say?" Lee asked.
"Oh, nothing, I'm just reading aloud," she tried to cover. It would
do her no good to show him just how flustered she'd been. Heck, he
didn't even seem to realize that he'd done it.
Lee placed the coffee mug on her desk, just to the side so that it
wasn't in her way.
"I'm sorry," he told her. "I guess I'm not much good today, am I?"
"Lee, it's fine. I'll figure it out, I always do."
He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling.
"I know, that's why I enjoy you being around, you can make sense of
me even when I can't."
He laughed to himself and went back to his desk.
Another few minutes passed and finally Amanda was able to work her
way through the file and deemed it ready to go into the vault. She
got up from her desk and with folder in hand, went to file it away.
She had pulled open the appropriate drawer and was leaning over to
put it away when she felt his hands on her butt.
"You have a very cute tush," he told her.
"Lee!"
She hastily filed the folder, then slammed the drawer shut. Then she
turned to look at her partner. When she took in his expression, she
didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
Lee Stetson was wearing the dopiest grin she'd ever seen. His hazel
eyes were fixated on her, twinkling as bright as Christmas tree
lights and his smile, well, under any other circumstances Amanda
might have found it endearing.
He looked as if he'd enjoyed his hands on her behind, heck, he looked
as if he'd like to attempt it again. It was that thought that sent
Amanda into panic mode.
"Look," she began, "I'm not going to hold you accountable for
anything that may or may not happen out of the ordinary today, but I
do need you to do me a favor?"
"Sure," he agreed, nodding his head up and down quite
enthusiastically.
"Could you please sit at your desk, and uhm, well," she stammered for
a bit, trying to come up with an excuse that might sound
plausible. "Uhm, would you mind sitting there and answering any
calls that might come in? You know, uhm, so I can finish these
reports?"
"Sure," he agreed. "Anything you say, Manda."
Like an eager beaver, he marched back to his desk, picked up a pen
and placed a notepad by the phone. Then he sat there and watched it
expectantly, as if he couldn't wait for it to ring.
"Oh my gosh," Amanda sighed as she looked at him.
Story Notes:
Legalese: Well, as you all know, the characters of Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong purely to Shoot the Moon and Warner Bros. I only occasionally borrow them, because nobody there seems to be interested in bringing them out of cold storage and it seems a mighty pity not to,
when they are all so lovable and adorable and would be a shame to waste that magical chemistry. As always, I put them right back where I found them, no harm, no foul. See? Everybody happy?
And now, on to the mayhem as they say, or off to the playground.
Setting: For the pure fun of it, sometime near as we near the approach of the end of Season Three (and though I'm not sure that Amanda actually had a desk up in the Q-Bureau until Season Four, I threw one there.
when they are all so lovable and adorable and would be a shame to waste that magical chemistry. As always, I put them right back where I found them, no harm, no foul. See? Everybody happy?
And now, on to the mayhem as they say, or off to the playground.
Setting: For the pure fun of it, sometime near as we near the approach of the end of Season Three (and though I'm not sure that Amanda actually had a desk up in the Q-Bureau until Season Four, I threw one there.