Michael stepped through the Lobby door to the non-descript upscale DC office building. At least Michael guessed he was in DC. The cold weather, the building materials used in the building and the lack of street nightlife all suggested DC. Larry's smile of welcome was more of a self satisfied smirk of a cat looking at his favorite mouse toy. "Welcome back," Larry said gesturing grandly. "How's your Kyrgyz?" Michael scanned the lobby for exits. "Eğer dışkı bir parça vardır."
"Close," Larry responded with a chuckle. The two men that had escorted him here stepped in through the lobby doors behind him. Larry produced a manila envelope and held it out to Michael. "Let's go kid, we've got a 20 hour flight to get you up to speed." "I have no intention of working with you, Larry." Larry shook his head, "You don't have a choice, the american government has decided you're assignment in Miami is done. It's time to move on, kid. You know how this plays out."
Michael shook his head in denial, but Larry's meaning gave him a chill. The Burn Notice was a cover story?
Larry sighed, "Come on, don't do this here with an audience. Insertion into our own society takes more than your average cover story. On the plane you can check your accounts, back pay was released once we had Vaughn and his organization locked down. You can appreciate the delicacy of the mission."
An agent behind him spoke up, "Your plane is 20 minutes from departure. It's time to go gentlemen."
"Wait," Michael stepped away from the agents behind him, "I need to leave a message for my mother." Larry shook his head. One of the agent's blocking the door raised his gun and pulled the trigger. Michael staggered once before crumpling unconscious to the floor, a tranquilizer dart jutting from his chest.
*6 months later*
Madeline Westen stood in her living room with a lit cigarette smoldering away, forgotten as she stared at a small framed picture sitting on the mantel. It was taken at her last birthday, an event she had declared would not be celebrated as any self respecting woman of her age does. She wasn't sure if Michael had been too preoccupied with a job to hear her or if it had been Fiona's influence, but all four of them had shown up (Michael, Fi, Sam, and Jesse) with a cake from the supermarket and a case of beer. It had been a wonderful night. She and Michael made it a full 2 hours without any mention of his childhood ruining the moment. Just her son at his finest, and a good group of friends. Maddie felt herself getting emotional staring at that moment.
It had been six months since a pair of steely-eyed government types had broken up a tender moment after the showdown at the hotel. Six months since she had seen or heard from Michael. He had promised that He would say goodbye this time. That he wouldn't vanish with no explanation. She had believed the promise. He was a different man than the emotionally wounded super spy that had been dropped in Miami with a Burn Notice. He had seemed more grounded, more comfortable in his own skin, more… at home. Maddie took a draw from her cigarette. But six months was a long time to question and doubt had begun to creep in. Michael had track record of this sort of thing.
Maddie blew smoke past her lips. Her birthday was at the end of the week. Nate had called. He was bringing the new family to visit. Maddie rolled her head trying to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. She could feel everyone making plans around her birthday. Trying to make it into some fake, artificially happy event just to defy the pain caused by Michael's prolonged absence. It made her nervous, like there was a storm on the horizon. All of their motives were good, but these sort of things never worked out.
Maddie had woken up with a growing sense of dread. She wondered if she could declare that her birthday was not to be celebrated in any way and actually make it stick this time.
Michael forced himself up off the sleeping pallet. It was more effective to ignore his body's signals than to dwell on something unproductive and outside of his control. He followed the rich smell of Martina's Turkish coffee down a dim hallway into the kitchen. Her son Benoit gave Michael a gap toothed grin from his chair. Martina dropped a plate of warm bread and a small chunk of mutton for Michael before turning back to the stove. Benoit wiggled excitedly in his chair like a puppy. Selecting a piece of bread Michael inched the plate closer to Benoit and sat back in his chair to eat. Benoit's small fingers snaked out to snatch the meat. Martina caught the movement from the corner of her eye and yelled. *Hey, you've had your share greedy thief. Go finish your work for school.* Benoit sighed pitifully and turned sorrowful brown eyes to Michael. *I mean it,* his mother scolded. Martina turned back to her skillet to pull it from the heat. Benoit snatched the mutton, jumped from the table and raced out of the room.
Martina came to the table with a frown. *You spoil him,* she accused. *He has had his share and look at you, you have dropped too much weight. What will they think?*
*They will think there isn't enough food, and they would be right.* Michael answered.
*No, they will drag me in and punish me for taking your ration for my family.* Michael picked up the last piece of bread and carried his and Benoit's plate to the sink. This was an old argument. *I need to get going.* Martina watched him shrug into her husband's worn parka and exit through the back door.
He was careful to mimic her people's customs, he blended in very well. She glanced back to the plates he had placed in the sink. But inside their home behind shuttered windows he was different. It had taken her a few months to adjust to such unusual habits. She had been desperate when she had agreed to shelter a foreigner in her deceased husband's place. She no longer thought of the danger this man posed, rather it was hard not to want more from him.
Michael slowly made his way through the early dusk, to a burnt out building that had been a soviet era rocket casing factory. He ducked past the boarded up entrance and stopped to scan the icy landscape looking for any sign that he had been followed. He waited twenty minutes, but the only sign of movement was the wind drifting snow across the frozen ground. The first shift at the mine wasn't due for another 3 hours. Nobody was willingly out this early. He turned and wound his way into the depths of the building. Residual lead from the plant's previous life constructing atomic casing meant devices wouldn't pick up any conversation.
"I was beginning to think you had stood me up," Larry said in greeting. Michael ignored the taunt. "Meeting like this is dangerous. What do you want?" "The same thing I always want, to kill bad guys and get paid." Larry responded flippantly. Michael gave him a deadpan stare. "Ok," Larry shrugged, "You got me, I'm not really particular about who it is I get to kill."
"What do you want?" Michael repeated.
"I want you to hurry up and do your job, Michael."
Michael shook his head, "We're not ready. We need to know what the camera rotations are, when the guard shifts take place. Going in there unprepared is just going to get someone hurt and alert them that we are here."
"You are worried about someone getting hurt?" Larry asked stepping closer. "You remember that we are dealing with someone that has already killed thousands of his own countrymen right? Or is it you that is afraid of getting hurt?"
A slight shift of weight warned Michael. He threw up a block just in time to deflect Larry's fist from breaking his nose. He shifted and let the parka absorb the follow up body blow and connected with an elbow to the small of Larry's back. Larry grunted and mule kicked Michael into the wall. Michael pushed off the wall into a crouch waiting. Larry stared back a few moments before relaxing into a casual stance.
"We need to finish this up and go home, sources from other regions indicate that Orozova has found a buyer for the nerotoxin that went on walkabout from the Minsk lab. We need to know how Orozova got that toxin before Wednesday. We need his list of contacts. So stop sitting on your ass and do your job!"
Michael stood but kept his distance. It seemed that he had just passed some sort of test. The question he needed to figure out was what Larry had been testing him for. Michael changed tactics, rather than continue to point out the obvious, {there was not enough intell to do what Larry was asking} he pointed out the problem that Larry's timetable presented. "If I make a move now, Orozova will know that his compound has been infiltrated and every family here will pay with their lives."
Larry brightened, "Great, so there is a viable plan. When and where can I expect to get my data?"
Michael shook his head, "You're not listening. Orozova will kill every man, woman and child in this village."
Larry shrugged, "Let me guess… you've gotten unprofessionally attached to Martina and her brat, is that it?" Larry paused to consider Michael's dark expression. Could he strong arm Michael past this or was it easier to just give in on this one issue? "Fine, send them to me and I'll make sure they aren't here when Orozova goes nuclear."
In a dangerous low voice Michael reminded Larry, "I told you no women, no children. That was our deal. You agreed."
Larry scoffed, "That was just for that piece with Vaughn. You know how it is, you say and do whatever it takes to get the mission done." Michael didn't cave. Larry shook his head in disgust. "Kill the village, save the village… I don't care. It's your plan, operate any way you want so long as the American government get's Orozova's contacts before Wednesday." Larry turned to leave. At the doorway he paused, "Kid, You are playing a losing game. Miami changed you, made you weak. You shouldn't have come back."
Michael responded, "I don't recall having a choice."