AN: This little piece came to me while I was at work today. It may seem OOC but it just seemed to fit. R&R whether you like/dislike, your thoughts are always appreciated.

-BN—

Madeline Westen sat in the dingy interrogation room, her arms folded across her chest, staring at the wall opposite. It wasn't like on all those cop shows she saw on TV. There was no one way mirror/window. Just a blank wall, the same off grey colour as the other three walls that made up the tiny room.

The room itself smelt like sweat and cigarettes. Her own cigarette pack was lying on the table in front of her. Un-opened.

For the first time in her life she didn't feel like smoking one. The irony in the situation was not lost on her. Michael had always been on at her to quit, but she had paid him no heed. Why should she? It was a stress reliever, and God knew he put her through enough stress. What with all the times she worried that he would never come home from a job. Would he get injured? Or caught by the authorities?

But none of that mattered anymore. Michael would never come home now. She'd never be able to hold her boy in her arms. Jesse and seen to that. She knew he had promised to kill her son, but she didn't believe him.

Standing under that tree just a few days ago. She'd looked at the man she trusted, the man she called a friend in the eye and told him to wait. She believed that come the time that he would have the opportunity to shoot Michael, he wouldn't do it. She believed he was better than that. She was wrong. God, she had been so wrong!

Sam had been the one to tell her the news. Fiona had been there, but she was rendered speechless through the amount of tears that streamed down her face. She knew before Sam even opened his mouth that something bad had happened. Something so terrible that could make the strong woman that Fiona was reduced to a tearful wreck in the middle of her sunroom.

When Sam spoke those words, it was like all other sounds around her just disappeared. All she could hear was those two words rattling around her head, over and over again.

"Michael's dead."

She didn't want to believe it, she couldn't. Her son. How could her brave, selfless, fearless son be dead? But one look at Fiona and she knew it was true.

She didn't cry though. She couldn't. She just felt so empty. There was nothing inside her. No feelings, no thoughts. Nothing. Just two words burning her ears.

"Michael's dead."

She couldn't say what she was thinking at that moment. She didn't know what possessed her. But she turned around and left the house. She was sure she heard Sam calling her name but she carried on going.

She got in the car and drove away. At that moment in time she couldn't tell you where she was heading, everything was on autopilot.

The cars, the people, the streets blurred past as she drove further and further away from her house. Nothing was in focus, all she saw were those two words in her head.

"Michael's dead."

When she finally stopped she found herself in the same motel driveway as she stood just those few days ago. Jesse Porter the man she trusted, the man she called a friend was standing just those few feet away in front of her.

He had his hands up and was talking to her. But she couldn't hear anything he said. All she heard was those two words, buzzing in her head.

"Michael's dead."

Then just as suddenly as the silence had descended, noise erupted around her.

Everything rushed back into focus, the sound of the gun going off in her hand. The yell of surprise from Jessie. The thud of his back colliding with the tarmac. The gasps of breath as he tried to take in air. His final words.

"I'm sorry."

But nothing mattered anymore.

Sitting here in the interrogation room the detective came back in; closing the door behind her she sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the table. Staring Madeline in the eyes, getting her full attention before she spoke.

"I understand why you did it," the detective said quietly. "After all, a mother's love is, well a mother's love."

A single tear ran down Madeline's cheek. The full weight of what had happened today bearing down on her. Michael was dead, there was no changing that. Call what she did to Jesse vengeance or revenge, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Michael was dead.