A/N: just to give context, this story is set prior to Anson's appearance in the series so Michael doesn't yet know that his dad's death is linked to his job.
Michael Westen rushed to his childhood home because like so many previous instances, his mother had texted him about an apparent emergency and demanded that he show up at her house at once.
Michael had a nagging feeling that this would be a bad idea, not only because there had been too many non-urgent emergencies at his mother's place for him to seriously believe that this was a real emergency but also because he was acutely aware of the date. He hoped against all hope that she wouldn't bring it up.
"What's the wrong, mom?" He asked as he came through the front door.
"Oh nothing's wrong, honey." Her smile was excruciatingly sweet which raised his suspicions even more. "I miss you, honey. It's a good thing you're in Miami now and not on the other side of the planet. I can see you when I miss you now."
Madeline wasn't exactly bemoaning the fact that Michael never came home for Christmas when he was away but it was always going to be part of their conversations (often not very subtly).
"I missed you too, mom." Michael returned the smile, not quite so sweetly.
"Now I think we should spend the day together," Madeline said brightly.
"Mom, I've got something..." Michael stammered.
"You always have something going on," Madeline replied. "And I know you're allergic to this house so we're going out."
"What? Where are we going?" Michael asked, uneasy.
"It's not like you ever bother to explain when you and Sam tell me to evacuate my house at a minute's notice," Madeline replied. "I'm driving."
"Mom. I don't think that's a great idea." said Michael, trying to think of a way to back out.
"You're going to like it Michael." Madeline assured him.
"Mom, your driving is um..."
"At least I'm not the one getting into high speed chases across the freeway like you and your friends," Madeline countered.
"Mom, it's not about speed. It's about going straight, which apparently you're allergic to." Michael replied.
"Hey don't complain about me. Fiona does that too." Said Madeline.
Michael shook his head. Girls and their incessant need to change lanes - all the time! Though Fiona was perfectly capable of driving straight and slow when she was tailing someone, for private car trips, she would suddenly forget how to do that completely. Madeline was like Fiona but minus the speed and the tailing experience so that her default approach to driving was both not straight and slow.
Madeline made a beeline for the Charger while Michael followed reluctantly.
"Mom, I still think that I should drive." Michael tried to persuade her.
"You're always in the driver's seat. Time you tried being a passenger for once." Madeline replied.
"Mom I..." Michael could tell that she wasn't just talking about his driving.
"Come on, Michael. When was the last time I drove you anywhere?" Madeline asked as she got into the driver's seat.
In truth the answer was not since her son was a child but Michael decided not to bring that up.
"Mom, is this really necessary?" Michael asked as he got into the passenger seat. "Couldn't we just walk to wherever it is that we're going?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Madeline said as she started the engine.
"Mom, I know where we're headed. You don't need to take the scenic route." Michael protested as they drove around South Beach. Madeline didn't exactly say where the destination would be but Michael had a pretty good idea of what it was.
"Michael just relax," Madeline replied. "We'll get there eventually.
Even though it was impressive that she wasn't changing lanes every five seconds, Michael still didn't understand why they were not taking the direct route.
"Seriously mom, if we had walked, we would have got there by now." said Michael.
"Oh no, if we walk, we'll never get there." Madeline replied.
"What are you talking about? The cemetery's only a few streets away from our house." said Michael.
"Is that where you think we're headed?" Madeline laughed. "No wonder you wouldn't get in the car."
This caught Michael off guard. Since it was the anniversary of his father's death, he had assumed that they were going to the cemetery to visit his grave. Madeline's reply made it obvious that she had never intended that they ended up at the cemetery. So where were they headed?
"What are you talking about mom? Where are we going then?" Asked Michael.
"I just wanted to go for a drive," said Madeline. "Why is it so hard to believe that you can drive without a destination?"
"Yeah because you usually like to drive around just for the fun of it." Michael replied, sarcastic.
"Just relax, Michael." Said Madeline. "I want you to close your eyes for a bit. I haven't crashed the car yet."
Michael gave her a curious look in response. Then he laughed at the misunderstanding caused by his cautious nature. And he laughed at how innocent (apparently) Madeline's intentions were.
"What's so funny?" Madeline asked, bewildered.
"Mom, I know you're worried about me, but I don't have insomnia." Her son replied.
Madeline had been driving Michael around town with the hope of sending him to sleep with motion.
"Michael, you've never been able to sleep well." Said Madeline, all pretence of cheeriness gone from her voice. "Even when you were little, you could only sleep in short bursts lasting not more than two to three hours at a time, averaging around five to six hours a night."
"Mom, that's just how I sleep." Michael replied. This topic was more uncomfortable for him than the thought of discussing his father's passing.
"And you were always the last to sleep. You would get up out of bed and sneak outside our room and stand there listening to make sure that your father and I weren't fighting." Madeline continued her recount. "Only when you were absolutely sure that we weren't going to kill each other, did you go back to your own bed and sleep."
"Mom that's all in the past now," said Michael. Though he was touched by her gesture of using the Charger to send him to sleep, he didn't like the turn that the conversation had taken.
"I've never done what you do but it can't be any easier for you to sleep now," said Madeline. "For all I know, it could have gotten worse and you could be living off two hours sleep every night and I wouldn't even know about it."
"Mom, I sleep okay. You don't have to worry about me." Michael was getting very uncomfortable with the conversation. "You're the one who should look after yourself. I mean all those cigarettes can't be healthy for you."
"Don't try to change the topic," Madeline replied. "You thought that I was going to talk about your father. Well I wasn't but you brought him up so I will."
"Mom..." Michael wanted to caution her but found it difficult.
"You know what I thought when Frank died?" Madeline asked.
"What?" Said Michael.
"I thought that you'd come home. I thought that if he wasn't around, we could have a second chance to start over again. But you didn't." Madeline shook her head.
"Mom... I'm sorry. It's just... when I'm on a job, it completely takes over. I couldn't leave my assignment. That's why I never came back to Miami for the funeral. By the time I'd completed the assignment, it had already been six months since he died."
Madeline could have gone on to discuss the subject at length but she knew that Michael was not going to add anything more to what he'd just said so she decided to deal with the more pressing issue.
"Michael be careful." Madeline cautioned. "Fiona told me about some of the risks that you would take on your jobs."
Even though it had been done with good intention, Michael could not help but feel betrayed by his girlfriend. Really, Fiona should have known better than to tell Madeline about his getting hurt in the field.
"She said that you purposely allowed yourself to get beaten up on a job and then you couldn't eat anything for several days straight," said Madeline. "You're always going off at your brother for taking risks with his money when you're taking the same kind of risks with your health."
"Mom, it wasn't as serious as what she told you." Michael tried to calm his mother.
"Knowing you, it was probably much worse than that. She was only telling me what she was picking up on." Madeline retorted.
"Mom, I can't promise you that I won't get hurt. It comes with my job." Michael sighed.
"Promise me that you'll try," said Madeline.
"I promise." Michael smiled.
A/N: This story references the events in Spy Training: Accents & Oranges and can be counted as a sort of sequel to it.
