Blackbird's Song, a burn notice fanfic

Disclaimers: "Blackbird Song," sung by Lee Dewyze, is from the sound track of the TV show The Walking Dead. Burn Notice does not belong to me. This is written for entertainment purposes only.

No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: How on earth did Madeline Westen get custody of Charlie? Why was the woman on such good terms with Carlos Cruz? I mean, the guy called her to ask for relationship advice? And she definitely did her best to do what she could to keep him around. Do we just accept that family loyalty was a foreign concept to a woman who allegedly did everything for her family?

If you are reading my story Pale Imitation, this would fit in between chapters four & five.

Before you continue, here is a second warning: This is a very intense story. It contains Violence against Women, Child Abuse & Alcohol Abuse... You have been warned. Again!

"Blackbird Song"

Pack your things
Leave somehow
Blackbird song
Is over now
Mouths are dry
River runs
Hands are tied
Preacher's son
Pack your things
Leave somehow
Blackbird song
Is over now
Don't be scared
I'm still here
No more time
For crying dear

()()()

The only sound was the harsh ragged breaths coming from the slender blonde lying on the floor of the spartanly decorated apartment surrounded by blood-splattered shattered glass and broken furniture.

The men who had smashed down her front door and brutally assaulted her body had finally left, taking the last of her valuables with them before warning her they would be back. The scrunch of their heels trampling over the shattered glass, which was all that was left of her grandmother's treasured glass vase collection, had been muted by the sound of her own sobs and a gasp of agony as the last one to pass by delivered a final kick to her ribs on his way out of the damaged front door.

"Last chance... No more excuses... You think I like doing this to you? Do you?... Now pay up or next time, I really will take your kid... You have any idea what I could get for that boy? What the people I'd sell him to would do to him, huh? Is that what you want, bitch?"

The last words she'd heard had been yelled in her ear by the leader of the group as he'd held her up by her hair, shaking her roughly while his men ransacked her small home and all the while she'd prayed silently they didn't find her most precious possession hidden away in the back of her wardrobe. Only when she was positive she was alone did she risk letting out a whimper.

Uncurling, she crawled across the broken glass, barely registering the damage she was doing to her hands and knees. Stifling a cry, she pulled herself up using the upended edge of her couch. Standing on shaking legs which struggled to hold her weight, she staggered the few steps necessary to reach kitchen.

As the young woman tried to clean away the blood still flowing freely from a cut above her right eye and a busted lip with one hand, her other hand investigated her tender ribs and the agonizing pain coming from her back: bruised ribs – maybe or more likely broken from the stabbing pain lancing her chest on each breath. Carefully reaching round to her back, she could feel the rise of tender swollen flesh across her lower back from the fists and feet of the evil son of a bitch who was taking delight in destroying her life.

She began to sob, heart wrenching gulps. She had been sure she was going to die this time... She couldn't keep doing this, she just couldn't... But there was nothing she could do to stop it...Nothing unless she put aside the tattered remnants of her pride.

"Mama?"

The sound of that soft sweet voice brought an instant stop to her tears. Choking back the pain, the young blonde fought to control the tremors which were racing through her body. Turning, she nearly broke down again at the sight of the dark haired toddler who was standing in the hallway wearing his Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas.

"I told you to stay hidden, baby."

"I scwared…" His bottom lip began to tremble and one large tear made its way down his chubby cheek.

"It's okay, Charlie." Even though she could barely breathe though the pain which racked her body, the slender woman comforted her child. "I'm still here. I'm gonna make it better." She looked up warily at her front door. They could come back. They could come back at any time. What if they were waiting outside, waiting to see if her baby boy was home?

"You have any idea what I could get for that boy? What the people I'd sell him to would do to him?" The voice of Leo Sapienza refused to leave her head, reminding her of what the stakes were in the game which was now her life. No, that bastard would not get his hands on her son.

With a glint of steely determination showing in her blood shot and blackened eyes, the former Mrs. Nate Westen came to a decision. She was going to go to the one place she never ever wanted to return to and, if necessary, she would beg the man she hated to save her son's life.

"Charlie, baby, come with Mommy." She limped slowly to his side and took his tiny hand in hers. "We're gonna pack your bags – and leave somehow. I dunno how, but this life is over."

It took her longer than she had hoped to pack Charlie's bag. It was hard to know what to take. All his favorites, of course, his favorite dinosaurs, his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine, the blanket he couldn't sleep without, the Cars 2 duvet cover and pillow case, the teddy bear he'd gotten for his first birthday, it all went into a large suitcase along with the necessities for raising a toddler.

"I'm taking you to see your Daddy's brother, your Uncle Michael." She bit down on adding you know the man who got your Daddy killed. Instead she informed the quiet little boy at her side, "He'll help us, he has to help us, he owes us."

It had been all over the news when Michael Westen and his friends had been declared enemies of the state for the murder of a highly decorated CIA officer. But she also knew that somehow they had all escaped the charges. She'd had five calls from Madeline Westen in the last four months, ever since she had gotten out of rehab for what she was determined would be the first and only time and had Charlie returned to her care, each call had been begging to be allowed to see her grandson.

At the time she had taken great delight in turning the old woman down. It was Madeline's son, her ex husband's fault she was in the position she was in now. Beaten and bloody, living in fear because Nate Westen had had a problem and refused to get help. But that wasn't all he had done. After he had pawned all hers and Charlie's belongings, he had turned to loan sharks and gambling on credit.

It had been Nate's fault that she had lost her job. If he hadn't been calling her all hours of the day and night begging her to take him back and if his so-called friends hadn't been turning up at her door asking for the money he owed, she wouldn't have been so tired and stressed. Turning up late for shifts, having to disguise bruises under heavy make-up, failing the weekly drug and alcohol test had all led to her downfall.

And it was his brother's fault too. It was Michael Westen's fault that she could barely function without the support of hard liquor. Nate's nightmare of a mother, the old witch had blamed her, said if she had been more understanding of her baby boy's problems, more supportive of Nate's pie-in-the-sky, get-rich-quick schemes, if she had put some effort in to keeping the family together, Nate would not have been so desperate to prove himself by working with his big brother.

It wasn't that she hadn't tried to remain sober. But each time she made a little headway, somebody her ex-husband had double crossed or owed money to would come out of the woodwork and sabotage her efforts, just like Leo Sapienza and his gang of thugs.

And now with no one else to turn to, she would do the only thing she could think of to save her son and she hated herself for even thinking about it. But Nate had always spoken about Michael as if he was some sort of super hero and that's what she needed. And it was about time the Westen family did something for her and Charlie rather than taking everything away.

So, she drove through the night. While Charlie slept strapped into his car seat on the back seat, Ruth had aimed her aging Ford Taurus east towards Florida. She was a useless mother, who couldn't even look after her own child. Oh, she had kicked Nate to the curb. But she had failed to run far enough or fast enough to escape the pull of the whirlpool of drug addiction and gambling debts which had sucked her down into her present hell.

As the sun rose and the toddler woke up miserable and whiny after spending a night in a car seat, Ruth pulled over in a small town. Wearing a floppy brimmed hat and dark glasses to hide her battered features, she left the safety of the car and took Charlie with her to buy a few supplies with her dwindling finances before she booked into a cheap motel.

Locking the door and closing the curtains, she changed Charlie's diaper and handed him a cheese and ham sandwich and a small bottle of juice with a pull-up top.

"Baby, I'm gonna take a shower, you watch TV." She switched on the flat screen TV attached to the wall and used the buttons to select a children's channel.

Under the hot water, Ruth shook and cried, tears running like a river down her cheeks, mingling with the torrent falling from overhead as she got her first full look at her injuries. Her body was a mass of bruises and cuts, a chunk of her shoulder length hair was missing from where the Mafia affiliated loan shark and bookie had thrown her about with his fingers gripping her blonde locks.

Drying herself off, gently patting her tender skin dry, the badly battered woman fought a losing battle with the craving which had ruled her life for the last year and a half. Slipping into clean underwear, she walked back into the bedroom and smiled wearily at the little dark haired angel who sat far more quietly than any normal child would.

"You gotta be quiet, Charlie," when the landlord banged on the door for the rent.

"Don't make a sound baby, 'til the bad man has gone," when loan sharks pounded on the door for their money

"Charlie come away from the window, come here. Hide with Mamma," when her baby's father threw himself against the front of the house in his alcohol and drug fuelled misery.

How many times had Charlie been urged to remain silent? She blinked away a tear and pulled a bottle of vodka from the bag of supplies. The shattered woman just needed a little to help her rest, to take the edge off the pain which made her whole body throb. Unscrewing the cap, she hesitated, staring at the back of the head of her baby boy, her blue eyes filling with moisture. He deserved better than this, better than her, she couldn't even protect him, not properly.

Ruth raised the bottle and took a long deep drink, letting the harsh spirit fill her dry mouth and run like a river, burning its way down her throat. Maybe the older Westen sibling, regardless of what she thought of him, would be able to do a better job of saving his nephew than he did when he dragged his brother into a dangerous job he should have had never been anywhere near.

She took a second mouthful and then a third trying to erase the memories of the last twenty four hours from her mind and deaden the agony from her injuries. If Nate had lived, Leo Sapienza would have spent all his time and energy hunting him down instead of tormenting her and threatening Charlie... If Nate had lived, she would never have had to …...

The bottle slipped from her fingers, rolling across the bed and on to the floor.

()

()()

Madeline Westen lit up a fresh cigarette off the end of the one she had just finished, after smoking the spent one almost all the way down to the filter, before tossing it into one of three over flowing ashtrays she had on the counter in her kitchen. It was eight o'clock in the morning and she was already on her third cigarette of the day.

Picking up a plate holding two slices of toast smothered in butter and strawberry jelly in one hand and a cup of freshly brewed coffee in the other, she made her way into the sun room. Placing her breakfast down on a small table next to her favorite chair, Mrs. Westen switched on the TV and settled down to her morning ritual of breakfast and a hot drink while watching the news.

She was bored and lonelier than she had ever been in her whole life.

She had lost so much over the years that she really couldn't help feeling sorry for herself: Frank, Nate, Michael, all gone from her life... Though Michael had left of his own accord, abandoning her without so much as a single thought. Mostly she missed her oldest son's friends. She missed Fiona's visits, which had dwindled down to an hour once a fortnight if she was lucky.

Oh, she could always count on Sam to come around, but only when she found a little job for him to do and he was always in such a rush to leave. As for Jesse, she hadn't seen him in over two months. The last time he had been full of high hopes for his exciting new job at one of the most prestigious private security and investigation companies in all of South Florida. They were all so busy with their new lives, leaving no time in their schedules for her.

Maybe should have taken her sister Jill's offer to visit for a month or two.

"More news on that early morning crash that shut down the Florida Turnpike at the 826 interchange, which remains closed at this hour while Florida Highway Patrol continues to process the scene... Behind me here, you can see the vehicle still wrapped around the support of the signage structure, which has collapsed partially onto the highway when it was struck by that Ford Taurus that was travelling southbound on the Turnpike. They will be attempting to remove the car shortly."

The former bottle blonde removed the cigarette from between her lips long enough to take a bite of her toast. Car crashes were nothing new. In fact, she didn't know why they bothered to report it…

"Witnesses say the Taurus suddenly swerved across three lanes of traffic, narrowly missing the Toyota Tundra truck, which clipped the car and sent it spinning into the signage support, impacting the driver's door and trapping the driver in the vehicle. We have some video from overnight showing authorities removing of the female driver from the Taurus. Exclusively on News7, we've been able to learn that this is a possible drunk driving incident, although authorities are not confirming that at this time."

Then her mouth fell open, the slice of toast dropped to the floor. No, no, it couldn't be, could it? No... The dishevelled blonde being pulled from the car and placed on a stretcher, was that Ruth?

Mrs. Westen leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the image, when the camera suddenly zoomed in on the inert form on the stretcher, confirming her worst fear.

"Fortunately, the only other passenger in the vehicle, a little boy approximately two years old, was not injured. He has been taken into custody and will be handed over the Department of Children and Families until relatives can be located. As you can see here in this video recorded earlier this morning, he appears to be uninjured and just shaken up, as you can imagine. No word yet on when-"

Madeline shook, tremors running up and down her whole body. She could only see the back of his head and one little arm and leg, but she was sure of it. It was Charlie! She was positive it was Charlie. She would have known him anywhere. He was the image of Nate at that age... Her heart was beating so hard and fast she was almost convinced she was about to have a heart attack.

Sucking on her cigarette, the older woman turned it to ash in a second before tossing the remains aside. Her trembling hands, once freed, reached for the phone book. She had to know. She had to call somebody... Oh my God, what was that stupid ditz doing? That insipid little tramp could have killed her grandson. What the hell was she doing back in Miami, anyway, trying to get on the Palmetto Expressway at that hour of the morning? It didn't matter. She had to find Charlie now!

An hour later, Maddie had her answers and her fast beating heart was now thumping away with joy. Once she had established her identity with the kind lady from Dade County Children and Family Services, she had been given more details on what had happened.

"First of all, Charlie is fine, Mrs Westen. He is being well cared for and, if everything checks out, he should be with you in a couple of days... However, your ex-daughter-in-law, Ruth, she's not doing so well."

"Ruth got out of rehab in Las Vegas a few months ago." Madeline had wasted no time making sure they knew exactly what sort of mother her son's ex-wife really was, how the blonde black jack dealer had tossed her husband aside, a man who had later died a hero helping the government track down and capture a dangerous fugitive. How Ruth had selfishly refused to allow Charlie to attend his father's funeral and, of course, how she wouldn't be at all surprised if her former daughter-in-law was drunk out of her mind when she had crashed her car.

"Thank you for being so candid, Mrs. Westen. We'll get back to you later today once Charlie has been settled in and we should be able to give you more news on how long your application for temporary guardianship will take."

"Thank you dear, I really hope Ruth can get the help she needs. That poor girl has a lot of problems."

When the phone call ended and the white haired woman had caught her breath. She sank down into her favorite chair with a big beaming grin on her face. Once the necessary checks done by the DCF came back clear, which she knew they would, she would have her last link to Nate back where he belonged.

Reaching out, Madeline went to draw another cigarette from the packet on the table by her elbow. Her fingers hovering over one of the little sticks, her thoughts suddenly turned to her own run-ins with the DCF when her boys had been little. Whatever deal Michael had made had left them all with squeaky clean records. Every single bad thing they had done in their lives wiped away as if it never happened. But just because no record was left, it didn't wipe clean the memories in her mind.

She snatched her hand away from the carton and her eyes scanned the room. She knew how the DCF worked and she knew exactly what they would make of her house. They wouldn't be interested in how much she would love that little boy. All they would see was the nicotine staining walls and ceilings, the dust which covered every surface and the particles which filled the air , the empty whisky bottles and beer cans sitting in the trash. If the empty refrigerator and pantry, nothing but out-of-date frozen meals in the freezer, didn't sink her, all the pills in the non-child-proof-cap bottles which filled the table beside her chair would.

She went to get to her feet, but fell back heavily and put her head in her hands. It was too much, too much for her to do on her own. She reached for the phone again. Her son's missing friends would have to help, she would make them help. They owed her that. Well, they didn't really owe her a thing, but she would make them believe they owed her a lot. Hadn't she sacrificed so much more than all of them put together?

"This is Sam Axe, leave a message and I'll get back to you," was not what she wanted to hear. Nor was the news she got from Elsa Dearbon's PA when she called the hotel. Sam was away gallivanting with his lady friend in Key West. He would be gone for at least a week.

"This is Fiona, leave a message." Madeline had wanted to throw the phone across the room. How dare they be gone when she needed them? But that was just typical of Michael and his friends. She really didn't know why she bothered.

Her heart leapt when Mr. Porter picked up the phone. Yes, she could count on her adopted son.

"Jesse, thank god, you answered."

"Maddie, you okay?"

"Yes, but I need—

"I'd love to help, but I'm kinda busy right now. I'll call you back, it's a promise."

Jesse hadn't even given her time to explain why she needed him and, when she rang back, her call went straight to voice mail.

She was all alone. Madeline sniffed. Well, screw them, she would do it all on her own.

Her hand went again to her cigarettes and, with a frustrated huff, she got to her feet. As much as she hated the thought, her fifty year habit was going to have to be at least curtailed to outside only. Pursing her lips, the older woman looked around her home. If she was going to keep Charlie, she was going to have to get to busy.

The washing up was done, every ashtray in the house emptied, washed and put away, all bottles of spirit and beer removed, the contents poured down the sink and the containers tossed into the trash. The floors were swept, every surface dusted and then finished off with a vacuum. By late afternoon, Madeline was exhausted and more than anything craving the calming effects of nicotine. It was going to take her days to get the whole house spick and span. But what choice did she have...?

Pouring herself a cool glass of iced tea, she stepped outside to get some fresh air and just partake of one cigarette. She'd start by cutting back. She was human after all and to just stop her forty a day habit, well that was going to be impossible.

Sitting down on the step which led outside from the kitchen, Mrs. Westen let her head and shoulder rest against the door frame. She really was so exhausted. Over the last few months, she'd stopped attending all her classes. She only left the house to buy booze and cigarettes. She had stopped dying her hair, which had now turned white from the stress of everything she'd been through, no doubt. With Nate gone and Michael god-only-knew-where, she just didn't see the point in putting in the effort to carrying on.

Nate… she was still being tortured by what had happened to her baby boy, what Michael had let happen to his brother. Ever since her conversation with Tom Card, the man Michael had killed, the man her oldest son claimed had been responsible for Nate's murder, she hadn't been able to get it out of her mind what that silver tongued liar had said about bottles breaking.

Her boys had been broken long before adulthood, broken by their father and maybe a little bit by her, if she was being honest, which she rarely was when it came to the past. Michael had been turned into a jagged edged weapon, while her dear Nate had crumbled under the strain. She could have left Frank, but what would have happened to her then? Two boys to raise on her own with no income...? No, she'd done the best she could; she would just have to do better this time.

"Dammit all to hell, Maddie, where's my clean shirt? How many times do ya have to be told before it gets through that thick skull of yours? How many fricking times do I have to tell you when I come home on a Friday night, I expect a hot meal and a clean frickin' shirt?"

"I'm sorry, Frank, I'll -"

"I'll – I'll – I'll," he mocked before grabbing hold of her arm and dragging her into the bedroom. Flinging open the closet door, he had slammed her head against the frame. "You know I got business Friday nights. Every… Friday... Night…. Are you really this stupid, woman? What have you been doin' all day, huh? Sitting on your ass watchin' TV? Hangin' out with them other bitches down the street, gossipin' an' drinkin' instead o' doin' what you're supposed to?" A kick to her leg and she dropped to the floor, pleading with him to stop.

"Stop it! Quit it, Dad! Quit it or you'll be sorry." Michael's voice came to her from a distance, echoing in her head.

"Whud did ya say to me, dumb ass?"

She felt her attacker step away and, in her relief, she crumbled completely to the floor, whimpering as she listened to her husband and son yell at each other before the fight well and truly began.

Michael was no longer a child, at fourteen he had seen far more than he should have of the bad side of life. He had only been home that time of day because he had been suspended from school for fighting the day before.

At the time, she had been weak. She hadn't even tried to stop the beating she knew was happening in one of the other rooms of the house. Even after the noises ceased and she heard the front door slam followed by the roar of the black Dodge Charger's engine, she continued to sit on the floor. She had been trying to talk Mrs. Reynolds into loaning her a little money and she had lost track of the time… it was her fault. She knew Frank went out to meet with his business associates on Fridays…

"Mom…?" When she opened her eyes, Michael and Nate were at her side. Nate was holding her hand while Michael dabbed away the blood from the cut on her forehead.

And when she'd finally opened her eyes, she was unable to look at her oldest boy. If she had, she would have been forced to acknowledged his injuries and accept she had married a brute.

"Mom," Nate spoke softly, his big brown eyes pleading with her. "We should pack up, we should leave."

"No." Just like always, she refused to even consider the idea. "We, we just need - need to learn not to antagonize him. Your dad works hard." Both boys had snorted their derision at her words.

"Why, Mom?" This time it was Michael asking. "Why do you keep falling for his shit? He's not at work. You know he's at the track. Your hands aren't tied, we could leave. I could take care of us all."

"No." She'd brushed their hands away and sat up, leaning back against the bedroom wall. "Boys need a strong man in the house... Look at your friend, Andre, he's running wild. Boys need -"

A loud knocking broke into Madeline's memories and her eyes flickered. "Boys need to be loved."

She jerked fully awake, her unsmoked cigarette nothing but a long length of ash, the iced tea spilled, the liquid dripping down the steps.

Getting to her feet, the Mrs. Westen made for her front door. It had to be Jesse. He had found time to come and help her out. She knew he was a good boy really...

In the months after her release from CIA prison, Madeline had slowly gotten back to her old life, the one before she had spies turning up her door at all hours of the day and night. In her haste, she opened the front door without bothering to check who was on the other side.

"Je—Yes?" It wasn't Jesse, it was a young, muscle-bound, tattoo-covered Latino smiling warmly at her.

"Er, Mrs. Westen, I'm not sure if you remember me. We met -"

"Carlos, Fiona's friend." Madeline breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized the man Fiona was flirting around with. Not that she blamed Michael's ex-girlfriend for moving on.

"Si, yes." He half turned to look over his shoulder before returning his earnest gaze to the white haired woman barring his entrance to her home. "Er, look, this is a bit awkward, can I come in."

"I'm very busy right now," she said, plastering a faux smile on her face. "I have things -"

"Mrs. Westen, Fiona said for me to tell you this is a Disney World kinda thing."

Madeline paled and if she hadn't been holding onto the door, she would have fallen. "No…" Her voice shook with emotion. "No, this can't be happening, not now. I have – I have things to do, I can't just go. No, I won't go. You can tell Fiona whatever it is, it's got nothing to do with me. It's-"

"Mrs. Westen… Madeline, I think you should let me in, I'll explain." Carlos stepped forward, taking the older woman's arm, and escorted her back inside, closing the door behind him. Helping her over to the couch, he got her to sit down. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but Fiona is off dealing with some emergency that has something to do with your son. That's why she -"

"Michael? Michael isn't even here. He hasn't been here for months. What could-"

"No, this is something that happened a while back. Fiona's brother is in town. She's with him and they're trying to clean things up."

"Fiona's brother, Sean?" Now she was completely confused.

"No, Seamus, he has a boat and he's brought his family with him... Look, it's real complicated. Can we just go? Fiona said -"

Madeline stopped listening to the young man. She had heard all she needed to. This was Michael's fault. He wasn't even around anymore, but he was still managing to ruin her life. Nate was gone and now Michael's trouble could take Charlie away from her for good.

"I don't care what Fiona says. I'm staying right here." Her blue eyes sparked with stubbornness. "I- I have important things to do. I can't just drop everything at a moment's notice and run off."

Carlos sighed and squatted down in front of her. She could see sympathy in his dark brown orbs. "Okay, I won't make you leave. Just let me stay and tell me what I can do to help."

()

Don't be scared
I'm still here
No more time
For crying dear

()()

By that evening, Madeline Westen had decided Carlos Cruz was God sent. The young man had helped her scrub the house clean, removing months, if not years of neglect. But that wasn't all. Due to his career as bounty hunter, he had several contacts in Dade County law enforcement and, because of his voluntary work in a community outreach program, he also was on good terms with many of the social workers at Dade County DCF.

With the cleaning finished for the day, Madeline ordered a take-out meal while her newest best friend freshened up. Ruth was being held under guard in a local hospital. She had a lot of trauma, which was several days older than the severe concussion and whiplash she had suffered in the crash. This only made Madeline even more determined to get guardianship over her grandson and get him away from the woman who had endangered his life.

"The police are going to be coming to interview you. The detectives will want any background you can give them on Ruth's lifestyle and why she was coming to Miami." He had reached over and patted her hand. "I know you must be worried, but I'm sure you'll have your nieto here with you soon. Then Ruth can get the help she needs. She sounds like a very troubled woman."

"Oh, you've no idea, Carlos. You know, she never liked me, always criticizing me in front of Nate."

He smiled back, happy to be able to help and to feel needed. Ever since Fiona's brother had arrived on the scene, he had felt like he was slowly being pushed out.

"Well, I'm gonna do a perimeter check and then we'll lock up for the night." He got to his feet. "And first thing tomorrow morning, I'm gonna see about getting you some of that gum me madre used to quit smoking. She swears by it." He flashed his mouthful of white teeth. "My little brothers have a ton of stuff they're too old for, but Momita can never get rid of anything." Carlos shook his head indulgently. "I'm sure there's enough laying around that we can get a room ready for Charlie."

Madeline felt so much better. This young man was everything she could have wished for in a son.

()()()()()()()

This story will continue as part of Pale Imitation. New chapters of all my stories are coming soon.