A Merry, Little Christmas
Fiona finished tidying up the apartment and checked the clock yet again, as she had many times that day. This was the first Christmas she was spending with Michael and she wanted everything to be perfect. The past few years had been, in a word rather rocky. They had this on again, off again thing that had been going on since they met in London in the mid 90s but it seemed that no matter where they were in the world they ended up coming together somehow. Fi didn't really know what to call it, fate, destiny, chemistry, polarity; somehow, someway they always ended up together and then, after some time together they parted- that seemed to be their way.
The last time she left him in Paris, in the rain on the middle of the Boulevard Champs Elysees- a stone's throw from the Arc De Triomphe, the irony of which was not lost on either one of them. She left because she couldn't stand the secrets and him not letting her in, she told herself she understood that he was a spy and needed to have his secrets until the day that she just couldn't. The time before that he left her in Dublin in the middle of the night with no word, no good-bye. He got up from their bed and just left. She knew better than to even try finding him because she knew he would not be found. It was something they still had not spoken of and she wasn't sure if they ever would. Right now everything was still a bit fragile and she didn't want this to be the catalyst for things going south again. This was the thing that surprised her the most about their relationship, because Fiona was had never been one to shy away from speaking the truth or speaking up for herself but in this circumstance there was too much at stake, too much to be lost if she did. Not that Michael wanted her to be someone who never spoke her mind but in this case that was exactly what he wanted, no needed from her.
Now, now here in Berlin it was time for a new beginning. They had been together longer than they ever had before and now Christmas was here and they were still together and she loved every minute of it. She had spent most of the day decorating their apartment after he went off on his latest assignment. She went down to the little store and picked up a few bows and candles and tried to make the place look as festive as possible. It was difficult with the amount they both travelled, how neither one of them ever had a permanent home to speak of. Travelling so much made it rather difficult to keep up traditions; family ornaments or decorations were not something necessary to take from place to place so there were none to speak of here so they had to make new ones. She hadn't bought a tree yet, that was something she wanted to do with him, pick out their first tree and decorate it together. She knew how silly that sounded, that wanting for some sort of normalcy when there wasn't really any. She was a former terrorist, excuse me, freedom fighter, for God's sake and he was a spy, they weren't exactly what you would call "normal" nor would they ever be. That still didn't keep her from wanting more for them somehow, wanting, not exactly "happily ever after" but a pretty good facsimile of it, or at least as close as they could get to the concept.
Once she was assured that everything was straightened up in the living room and the decorations were just so, she ventured into the kitchen. She began clearing a space on the counter to begin making sugar cookies. It was the one thing that Michael had shared with her about Christmases at home with his family. The one happy memory he seemed to have kept with him from his childhood was of his mother making sugar cookies from scratch on Christmas day. Not the turkey, or the dinner, or the relatives but sugar cookies in different shapes; stars, angels, candy canes. Fiona was surprised at how simple the recipe was way easier than making C4 from scratch but with much more serious connotations. She placed a large mixing bowl on the counter and placed another bowl next to it, along with the ingredients, measuring cups and other tools she would need to make the cookies. Unfortunately she didn't have anything to bake the cookies into different shapes but she thought Michael would appreciate them none the less. She began by adding the flour, measuring the exact amount she would need.
By the time she was ready to place the cookies in the oven she was surprised to notice that the apartment had darkened and dusk had begun to fall. She turned on some lights and lit a few candles. She had expected Michael to be home by now, she found herself surprised at the worry she began feeling for him. From what she understood of what he was able to tell her about his latest assignment it was rather simple, the extraction of some documents from a building that had been closed for the holiday. She had offered to go along with him as backup but he was so sure of how easy the task would be that he refused her offer. She went to the window overlooking the street to see if she could see him walking down the street and home. It was while she was at the window that she heard something near the door, she waited to see if it was Michael struggling with the key in the lock, again. After a few seconds, she began to get that tingly feeling at the back of her neck that she felt when something wasn't right, so she pulled down a gun from the shelf closest to her near the window and began walking slowly towards the door, on the handle side in case someone suddenly kicked it in. While walking towards the door she noticed something on the floor that she realized was a letter. This is what she had been dreading, that the assignment had gone bad and someone had Michael and now they wanted to negotiate with her or his government. Well Fi didn't believe in negotiating she'd hunt down the people who took him and kill them in order to get him back to her. She paused, waiting to pick up the letter until she was sure whoever had left it was well on their way.
She bent down to retrieve the letter and recognized Michael's writing on the front of the envelope, now she was curious as well as worried. "Would they actually have forced him to write to me?" she thought as she opened the letter and began to read.
"Dear Fiona,
The last few months have been both the most exhilarating and miserable months of my life. As hard as we've tried to make it work, it just hasn't somehow. I'm sure that's more my fault than yours, I think I came to this with too much baggage, too many unresolved issues, and too damaged to make anyone, even you, a decent partner. I will always care for you and you will always have a special place in my heart but I have to leave. I didn't mean to do this via letter but I can't do this face to face, I can't bear to see that look you get on your face when you're disappointed, also I'm not as good at ducking your blows as I once was and once that starts happening I know we'll end up in bed and I just can't right now. It has to end, and this is the only way I know of to do that. Don't look for me; don't try to find me, because by the time you get this I will be on a plane to my next assignment. Take care of yourself, Fiona.
Grá,
Michael"
Fiona read the letter twice to make sure she understood what he was writing. To make sure that it wasn't some sort of code, some sort of message that was really saying "help, someone has me and I need you" instead of a dear Jane letter. It was on the second read through that the tears began falling silently down her cheeks. She wanted to scream, to do something instead of feeling so impotent, but she read the letter and let her emotions take over. She let herself sob and cry and feel remorse for this relationship ending in such an unexpected way. Somehow, somehow his leaving her in Dublin in the middle of the night with no word didn't seem as bad; at least it wasn't at Christmas she thought. At least he didn't write a letter ending in grá, when he left. This was the first time he had even mentioned the word "love" and it was at the end of a fucking dear Jane letter! The nerve of him to write that as he was leaving, the audacity- that bastard! Now, now that the anger was kicking in she knew it was a dangerous situation for Michael because she knew if she really wanted to she could find him with a phone call or three and make sure he felt as badly as she was feeling right now.
While in the middle of all these emotions and trying to decide what act to take next she heard the oven ding as the timer went off. She realized that the cookies had finished baking -the cookies that she had made just for him because she remembered how happy they made him as a child. She went over to the oven, slammed open the door, took out the cookies and threw the cookie sheet on top of the stove, and then she slammed the oven door closed and walked away from them. She was pacing around the apartment trying to decide what to do next when she realized that she still had on the oven mitt she had put on to take out the cookie, so she flung it across the apartment and then dissolved as a huge sob escaped her.
Fiona was surprised that the memory of that day had come flooding back so quickly and completely. She thought she had left it behind years ago in Berlin. While walking past the Macy's storefront and seeing the display of the mice baking cookies, she found that the memory had come back as if it had just happened yesterday instead of years ago. She hadn't seen or heard from Michael since that day and she didn't really expect to hear or see him anytime soon. Fi heard her cell phone ring and took it out of her purse; she checked the caller ID and didn't recognize the name or the number.
"Hello?" she said cautiously.
"May I speak with Fiona Glenanne." said the female voice at the other end of the phone.
"May I ask who is calling?" Fi asked before committing to anything.
"This is the manager at the Palm Tree Motel in Miami. We have a guest staying with us, a Michael Westen, and the housekeeping staff has become rather concerned about his well being. He hasn't woken up since he was brought to us two days ago. Miss Glenanne is listed as his emergency contact, at this number and that's why I'm trying to get in touch with her. Is this Miss Glenanne?"
Fiona wasn't sure how to process the information, Michael was in Miami, hurt and he still had her in his wallet as his emergency contact. Not only that but he had her most recent cell phone number listed as the way to get in touch with her. "Yes, this is Miss Glenanne. Can Mr. Westen speak? Or. . . " she trailed off not really knowing what to say next.
"Like I said Miss Glenanne, he's been unconscious for a number of days now. He is breathing and he does mumble a bit in his sleep but he hasn't awoken and he hasn't said anything to anyone. If you like I could contact someone else, if you have another number or someone else in mind."
"No, no, that's OK I'll be there as soon as I can. Where are you located?" Fiona took down the information, then thanked the manager and hung up. Next she called United and booked the first available flight out of New York. She went back to her apartment and packed a few things still shocked at the way Michael had come back into her life. She went downstairs, hailed a taxi and went off to JFK wondering what exactly would be waiting for her in Miami.