SEASON FINALE Part 2 ~ Now I Lay Me Down To Weep

By Jennifer Cannon


Friday 8:30 PM

Amanda’s head hurt-more than hurt, actually-it felt as though someone had driven sharp knives through her skull. Cautiously she tried to open her eyes; only to close them again as the light caused the pain to sharpen in intensity.

What had happened? Amanda tried to think back. She had been ready to leave Station One and then-a jumble of memories and images rushed through her mind:

–”I love you, Lee-tell mother and the boys I’ll be home soon and give Emily a kiss from me.” -

–driving down a darkened road-

–the glow of headlights behind her-so bright that Amanda almost had to close her eyes to shield herself from the glare -the squeal of brakes-

–”I’ve been looking forward to this, Amanda.” -the man’s voice had been deep in tone; she recalled-the accent vaguely familiar-

Why had she left Station One alone? Amanda wondered. She and Lee had come there separately-but they could have left together-why would they have left separately? There must have been a reason, but for the moment, it eluded her.

Who had the voice belonged to?

What had happened on the road? Some sort of accident? Was she in the hospital?

But hospitals had hospital noises-a certain antiseptic smell in the air-somehow this didn’t feel like a hospital. Amanda tensed as she heard a slight creak, followed by the soft padding of footsteps.

“Lee?” she croaked, barely recognizing her own voice. The inside of her mouth felt like a piece of sandpaper. Amanda swallowed, tasting a strange, almost sickly sweetness as she did.

No one answered her, but some sixth sense told her that someone was there, watching. The boys used to do that when they were little, Amanda recalled-they would stand by her bed some mornings, not saying anything, just waiting for her to open her eyes.

‘Open your eyes, Amanda.’

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SEASON FINALE Part 1 ~ Now I Lay Me Down to Weep

By Anne

Weep for the moon, for the moon has no reason to glow now.

Weep for the rose, for the rose has no reason to grow now.

The river won’t flow now,

As I lay me down to weep.

You went away, and the break in my heart isn’t mending.

You went away, and know I know there is no happy ending.

There’s no pretending.

As I lay me down to weep.

When you were mine, the world was mine,

And fate constantly smiled.

Now in its place I have to face,

A pillow of tears, all though the years…

Though you are gone, I still pray that the sun shines above you.

Time marches on, yet I know that I always love you.

I’ll keep dreaming of you.

As I lay me down to weep.

Eddie Heyman ~ Now I Lay Me Down to Weep


A flash of lightning streaked the sky briefly illuminating the dark English countryside. The rain came down in solid sheets of water, while sharp claps of thunder rattled the windows of the old cottage.

A young woman stood outside, soaking wet. She stared at her own reflection from the rain-dripped windowpanes. Her white-blond, short-pixie hair, that normally framed her features, was now plastered to her thin face. She gazed at the man sitting in the library, watching his hands ball up and pound the desk in frustration. Then she watched as he got out of his chair, walked over the CD player, and pushed the play button. Although she could not hear the song, she knew what the stereo was playing-that song-that damn song that haunted her in her very dreams. She watched him sit back down and close his eyes-being swept away by the music filling the room. He relaxed and then smiled-she frowned-she knew he was thinking of her. Oh God in heaven-how she hated that woman!

It just wasn’t fair-he belonged to her! He was her benefactor, her savior, her everything. He had taken her in when no one else would. Her whole life she had been told she couldn’t do anything right-that she was worthless. He had changed all that. She stared once more at her reflection and bowed her head in self-pity. Who was she kidding? What did she have to offer him?

A crash of thunder jerked her back to the present. Then letting out a long, slow deep breath, she closed her eyes. A smile crept across her face, and she began to giggle like a schoolgirl thinking of the Shakespeare sonnet. ‘So long as men can breathe and eyes can see.’ Her eyes flashed open and she retrieved the newspaper clipping she had placed in the inside pocket of her jacket to keep it from getting wet. She had found the article after spending hours at the library going through rolls and rolls of microfiche. ‘He’ll be so happy with what I found. I’ll prove to him I’m not worthless and then I’ll make him love me-make him forget all about her.’

Opening the door to the cottage, she shook the rain off herself. Then closing the door, she laughed saying, “Or I will kill you Amanda King.”

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Illusions of Safety

by Amy L. Hull


Thanks to the beta time and skills of Tammy; unfailing encouragement from Jennifer C; reminders to “kill my darlings” along with excellent suggestions for expansion and enrichment and a full-on deep beta from the amazing Ayiana; edits and suggestions from Constance; and proofreading, prodding, advice, and listening from Anne. Thanks to Husband for the consult on Tactical Teams and weaponry.


The earthy smell of the wet soil wafted up as the dew on the grass at the fence line soaked through his pants. He listened, perfectly still. Gravel crunched in the distance. Banners and flags flapped in the wind. There were no more voices, and he decided those had only been from passersby.

If he was going to get away, now was the time.

He looked around him at the misshapen shadows cast by the streetlights and ducked behind another car. Keeping his head well down, he crept toward the darkest corner, glanced over his shoulder, and began to climb.

Gravel scattered as loud barking headed his way, followed by a shout and more footsteps on the gravel, moving quickly. The noise converged on him as he scaled the chain link fence. The metal of the fence ricocheted off the poles as the dogs flung themselves at it, and he felt a tug at his pant leg accompanied by a determined growl.

A shout sounded above the other noises and the wire cut into his fingers as he pulled, while his weight, gravity, and a growling dog yanked him toward the ground. He kicked out, tugging his leg and shoving his other toe against the wires. For a moment it seemed he was gaining purchase, then a final yank freed his pant leg and his face rebounded into the fence.

The dogs skittered away, barking half-heartedly, and the footsteps stopped, then there was a gunshot and he felt, vaguely, an impact with the gravel before another shot sounded.

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The Art of War, Conclusion

Act 4

Secret! Secret!

There is nothing for which one cannot employ spies.

- Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”

Thursday Morning

Gaithersburg, MD

Carrie King looked about the clutter that Amanda and the boys, not to mention little Emily had brought into her house in the last hour.

She had no problem taking them in, but they certainly did come with some baggage, physical and emotional.

Jamie looked pale and thinner than when she had seen him last.  Though she wasn’t as close to the boys as she might like, Carrie did recognize the boy was having as tough a time dealing with Joe’s death as she was.

She felt a bit guilty, but knowing that he was struggling too somehow made her feel a little bit better.

Phillip on the other hand seemed mad at the world.  Amanda had said that Phillip wasn’t happy about missing school and hiding out.  Which seemed odd to her, what teenage boy didn’t want to skip school?  He had given her an abrupt hello, had dropped his bags just inside the front door and headed out the back.  She could hear the pounding of a basketball on the concrete court.

Amanda was the same as always, she bustled around the house moving all their things into the different bedrooms, then coming back in for more things to move.

Typically Amanda looked as if she had it all together, but today Amanda looked just as clueless as Carrie normally felt.  Again, she wasn’t proud of it, but for some reason that made her feel better.

She sat down in one of the living room chairs and waited for things to calm down.  Since Amanda had called her that afternoon she had been cleaning.  If there was one thing she didn’t want it was for Joe’s ex-wife to think she was a slob.  Their relationship was a strange one.  Carrie felt very close to Amanda on some levels and on others, like what the woman was going through now, she felt way out of her league.

Amanda was a spy. A good spy if what people said was correct.  Carrie was just a housewife.  Though now, with Joe gone, she wasn’t even a wife anymore.

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The Art of War

By Miranda

The military is a Tao of deception -

Thus when able, manifest inability.

When active, manifest inactivity.

When near, manifest far.

When far, manifest near.

Thus when he seeks advantage, lure him.

When he is in chaos, take him.

When he is substantial, prepare against him.

When he is strong, avoid him.

When he is wrathful, harass him.

Attack where he is unprepared.

Emerge where he does not expect it.

– Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”


The sun shone brightly as Anna Snyder studied the brick and ivy building in Georgetown where The Agency was housed.  From her perch above the street on the corner building she could see each and every vehicle as they left the parking area underneath.

There was only one man and one vehicle that she was concerned with however.  That man was who had killed her brother and caused her to spend nine years behind bars.

Lee Stetson.

Anna was labeled a traitor by Scarecrow and in the battle before her arrest her teenage brother had been shot and killed.  She knew her brother’s death was incidental, much like the deaths of the three agents she had shot in defense, but she wasn’t a traitor and spent nine years in prison on a false charge.  Stetson would pay for that error with his life.

She may have been found innocent now, but she was anything but after her time behind bars.

She longed for revenge.  Revenge for her brother’s life.  Revenge for her prison time.  Revenge for ruining her life.

Finally, the silver Corvette she had been waiting for exited the underground garage.  The glass top was on, despite the sunshine and warmth of the day, but she could still see Stetson’s brown hair as pulled out onto the street.

Wait, wait.

Slowly the car made a path down the street, when the car came to a stop at the corner, Anna pushed the red button on the remote detonator and ducked down next to the bricks to protect her.

The screaming sounds of chaos were a symphony behind her as she quickly fled the scene.  Her revenge had begun.

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Season 7, Episode 15 – The Art of War

smk-pic-70Baby bottles and battling bad guys don’t mix, so what is a spy mama and papa to do?

If I do not wish to do battle, I mark a line on the earth to defend it,

and the enemy cannot do battle with me.

I misdirect him.

- Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”

Tune in Friday May 7th at 8pm ET to find out how the Stetsons cope.

Just Business

By Ermintrude


It was a quiet Sunday afternoon on Maplewood Drive. As dusk approached, the neighborhood looked peaceful in the soft twilight.

Inside 4247 things were different. The sound of a baby’s cry echoed lustily down the stairs from the nursery.

“Phillip, Jamie-could one of you check on your sister, please?” Amanda yelled as she pulled sodden clothes out of the broken washer.

Lee came in with a wrench in his hand. “OK-Let’s see what’s clogging this hose.” He meant to get it off by hook or by crook.

“Lee, maybe we need to call a repairman…”

“Nonsense! I can pull this hose off and see what’s clogging it. No big deal.” He applied the wrench to the hose coupling.

Upstairs Phillip and Jamie scuffled in the doorway to the nursery.

“Hey doofus, get out of my way!”

“No way wormbrain-I got here first!”

Meanwhile Emily wailed away.

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Whatever Tomorrow Brings, Part 2

By Tera

Co-written by The Evil Triumvirate


Late Monday afternoon

4247 Maplewood Drive

Outside, the winter sky had darkened; a thick mass of black and purple winter storm clouds overshadowing the remaining orange and gray of daylight as the sun sank low to settle in for the night. As predicted, the beginnings of the snowstorm had made arrival and now a white crystalline blanket was beginning to form a cover over the cold ground below.

Inside the house on Maplewood Drive, emotions were beginning to turn as tumultuous as the weather. Lee had started pacing a path around the kitchen. Joe was becoming agitated. Even the Prime Minister was showing signs of being visibly upset.

Amanda was alternately glancing at her watch to keep track of the passing minutes and then switching her gaze to Lee as he moved about.

Only Dotty seemed to be calm, cool, and collected as she made a pot of hot tea.

Finally, after more than a few glaring looks from Amanda, Lee ceased his pacing and then looked at the clock.

“Okay, that’s it, Phillip’s officially grounded, and that car is staying parked until the middle of the summer.”

Joe practically grunted.

“Try until the middle of the next century.”

Dotty frowned as she began to pour tea into the cups. She had been listening to the others for the past ten or so minutes. Had they all forgotten that they were dealing with three boys on break from school plus one mall with a very appealing video arcade?

Of course, they were going to be running late. Besides, she knew her eldest grandson. If the roads had gotten a little slick, he would pick the safety of his passengers over making it home on time.

As she picked up the tray, she decided to speak her mind.

“They’re teenagers,” she gently reminded them as she approached the table.

“They were given their orders,” Lee retorted.

Dotty began settling the cups of tea in front of the worried adults.

“Home before dark, before the snow,” Lee reminded them.

“Lee, maybe he did have car trouble,” Amanda interrupted. “Maybe you and Joe should go look for them.”

Lee glanced at her across the table.

“What have we always preached to him?”

“I know, I know. If he had any kind of trouble, the first thing he’s to do is to call one of us.”

“Maybe Amanda’s right,” Joe said with a shrug. “Maybe he did have trouble and didn’t think about calling.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lee began but Dotty interrupted him.

“Lee, if the roads are slick, he’s taking his time. They’re only a few minutes late.”

“Try twenty,” Lee corrected her.

“Well then, if he is having car trouble, you’re probably going to find him under the hood. You know how is, he’ll think he can fix it himself and he’s just lost track of the time.”

Lee respectfully turned his face away from his mother-in-law to unintelligibly mutter something slightly indecent under his breath.

She did have a valid point though. If something were wrong, Phillip would, without a doubt, try to fix it himself.

“Let me go grab a few things from the garage and then we’ll go find him. And for his sake, he better pray he’s under the hood and not hanging out inside the mall with a bunch of his friends.”

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OH NO! The President is ON! We’re going to miss…

Scarecrow and Mrs. King!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this special announcement by the President of the United States.

The President is approaching the podium now.  Following this message we will of course cover the content for hours and hours and you will miss all of your regularly scheduled shows.

President: Good evening.  Today we had disturbing news affecting the state of our Union.  Due to unforeseen events the second half of the Episode “Whatever Tomorrow Brings” has been destroyed.

We suspect Al Queda is involved and have all of our best agents working diligently to rectify the loss to save the rest of the season.

To our fellow readers, we ask that you remain patient as this matter is resolved as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

As always we thank you for your support of this administration and hope to have good news within the week.

I will now answer a few questions… as long as they are not about broccoli, my sons or my rapidly receeding hairline.

Whatever Tomorrow Brings

by Tera


February 12th, 1990

Petersburg Prison – Virginia

It was an unexpected visit, but if from nothing other than curiosity, Byron Foster allowed himself to be escorted from the secluding walls of his tiny cell by the guard to the visitation area.  It was rare that anyone came to visit him these days, unless it was the family lawyer in regards to the divorce that his soon-to-be ex-wife had hastily put into motion the very second that Federal agents had arrested him back in December of 1985.

His lawyer, while excellent in his profession, could only do so much to stall the proceedings.  Byron steeled himself for the latest development in what had become a hostile series of legal battles as the guard herded him throughout the facility.  The long walk through the corridors of the prison gave him ample time to think about his existence, or rather what was left of it these days.

Every day, from the very first one of his arrival had been an almost identical repeat of the one prior.  He was told when to begin his day and when to end it.  For the long hours in between he was instructed when to eat, when to shower and even when to exercise.  He was allotted a small amount of time to enjoy entertainment, which he found to be a rather peculiar sort of joke based upon what the prison system deemed appropriate for the poor souls who now found themselves to be residents within Petersburg.

The only variety, if it could be called that, had been the sporadic visits from his personal lawyer.  It was through him that he maintained any sort of contact with his now very distant family.  Oh yes, once the discovery was made that he had indulged in some rather questionable employment, they had all but abandoned him and now seemed intent on draining away everything that he had amassed for their own selfish gain.  Let his very greedy wife take what she wanted.  Let her have the divorce.  He possessed an ace up his sleeve that none of them knew about, not even her excellent lawyer.  All he had to do was sit back and bide his time like a good little prisoner.

Once arriving at the visitation area, the guard wordlessly prompted him to have a seat on the battered stool that was positioned in front of a small wired glass window.  Then Byron waited patiently as the gruff man used the telephone hanging on the wall to issue instructions to those on the other side of the heavy metal door that the visitor was to be admitted.  Byron took advantage of the short period of time during the walk to mentally steady himself as he awaited yet another legal headache in his now almost deplorable life.

However, when the door opened, Byron was faced with a visitor that he had certainly not expected to see.  He watched in silent surprise as the young woman was escorted in and shown to her seat.

Then, almost in unison, the guards on both sides of the dividing wall took up silent but ever-watchful positions near their respective doors.  This was as much privacy as the inmates were allowed during visitation.

Byron waited until the young woman on the other side of the wall picked up her telephone before doing the same.

“Hello Byron.”

Her voice sounded slightly garbled over the telephone line despite the short distance between them.

“Same to you.”

“I have news from home to report.”

He could actually feel his eyebrows rise at her words.


To say that his interest in this unforeseen visit was now elevated would have been an understatement.

Before continuing on, she nodded to him through the glass.

“I’ve word that Father will be visiting in a few weeks.  The family wanted to know if you would like the standard arrangements?”

Understanding quickly dawned on him.  She had paid him a few visits since the beginning of his incarceration, conversations brief with seemingly innocuous but always enlightening updates.  For this one though, Byron had to pause to think for a moment, carefully, before giving her his response.

Finally, he knew what he wanted to say.

“I believe normal arrangements will be most suitable,” he slowly instructed her.  “But spare nothing at ensuring a completely satisfying visit.”

The woman nodded once.

“Oh, and please give my best regards to your sister.”

Byron smiled at her and was gratified by the increased unease that he saw settle into her eyes.

Hastily she hung up her telephone.  Then, she stood up and motioned to the guard on her side that she was ready to be escorted out.

Byron watched her departure for a brief moment before he stood as well, giving his guard an indication that this visit was now complete and that he was ready to return to his hideous cell.

From seemingly out of nowhere had come the brightest ray of sunshine that he had experienced in quite a long time and Foster was determined to do nothing now but back and bask in the glory of it, all while being completely detached from what would come.

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Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King and its characters belong to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Enterprises. No infringement is intended. This is written for entertainment purposes only.