His Hands

Pen name: JackieB

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I don't own these characters. They belong to Shoot the Moon and Warner Brothers. Just borrowing them! Again, the only thing I get from this is the reward of hopefully entertaining readers!

Summary: Short reflection from Amanda's POV about something she loves about Lee.

Author's notes: This story is the product of a suggestion that someone gave me that I followed up on. It's a topic that most people probably don't think about, but I think really tells you something about a person. I want to thank my beta reader, Debby, for all her encouragement. You're the best! And to Emily Ann for putting these up for me! If anyone has any suggestions for future stories, let me know!

I had heard the talk from a lot of women at the Agency, even before Lee and I started dating. They'd talk about how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, the way the light would gleam in his golden-brown hair, the way he would smile. They'd talk about the deep timbre of his voice, the sureness in his step as he walked next to you, the intensity of his gaze when he was hard at work.

Sure, I knew all of that, and it sure did add up to one impressive package. But they hardly ever talked about one of the things that I had noticed, something that set Lee apart from most of the men I'd known. It was his beautiful long-fingered hands.

It's said that long fingers belong to the hand of an artist, or a musician. Well, Lee may not play an instrument or paint, but he is an artist in what he does. He is one of the best operatives in the Agency. His hands can coax information from a computer, and they hold a gun steady enough to keep us safe. His hands can deliver a strong enough blow to knock out the bad guys, and they handle his car with confident precision.

But his hands mean more to me than that. His hands were sure when they grabbed my arm a few years ago and brought me into his life, and yet so gentle. His hands are warm when they grip my elbow or are placed at the small of my back to guide me. They are strong when they pull me out of danger or pull me to him in a loving embrace.

His long fingers are soft when they take my hand and he kisses it. His fingers have soothed and comforted me when I have felt sad. They gave me strength when we had to hide out from the Agency, and they entwined so tightly in mine that I didn't know where mine ended and his began the day he asked me to marry him.

Since then, every touch of his hands reminds me of everything he has done for me over the years, and of everything we have gone through together. A soft touch, a brush of his fingers on my back, or a gentle grip as he leads me into a room, reminds me how much he cares. Not just that; how much he loves me.

Also, his hands display the depth of his love for our family. His hands clean up the messes he makes in the kitchen when he makes us all breakfast. They open doors in a most gentlemanly manner for Mother and me when we all go out together. His fingers have splayed warmly and protectively on the boys' heads as he tells them how much he loves them.

And now, his hands are very delicate and gentle as they cradle perhaps the most precious thing he's ever held; our newborn daughter. Her tiny head fits perfectly in his hand, and with the other he softly touches her infant features in wonderment. As I watch them, exhausted but oh so happy, I think of what those hands will teach our baby. They will teach her to be a strong, confident, independent person. They will hold her hands as she learns to walk, wipe away the tears on her small cheeks when she wakes from a bad dream, and toss her in the air to hear her laugh. They will guide her as she enters school for the first time, and they will clap harder than anyone else's the first time he sees her in her school play.

They will teach her that strength is not brute force, but being able to stand true to your beliefs and yet be compassionate. They will teach her to protect the ones she loves. They will show her how to express herself and become her own person. But most of all, they will show her, by every gesture and touch, that she is loved so much. And someday, those hands that taught her all these things will give her away so she can pass those lessons on to her children.

Lee's hands are not just hands; they show me every day that I am special, that I am his, and that I am loved. They are part of his love for me, and every time I look at his hands, I am reminded of that fact. And I am grateful, so much more than any words can say.