I never liked continuing alternative universe series in fanfiction, but here I am breaking my own rules! As long as people keep asking for more and I come up with ideas, the Sam/Yvette series will continue. Samuel Sr., Yvette, and little Samuel are mine. The rest I'm just borrowing!

Like Son, Like Father

By WritePassion

"Hey bartender, a beer, a mojito, and a bloody mary," Sam shot across the bar as he glanced around Carlito's. He was early, and because he was the first to arrive, he bought the first round.

"I hope you're not planning on drinking those all by yourself."

Sam cocked an eyebrow and turned, and narrowed his eyes at the last person he expected to be standing behind the bar of his favorite watering hole. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

"I work here, since last Tuesday." Samuel Axe Sr. answered with a smile. "You didn't answer my question, Son."

"Ha ha, very funny, Dad. I'm meeting Mike and Fi here in a little bit. First one here buys the first round. That's the way it is." He gave him a smug expression. "Satisfied?"

"Yes, I am. I'd hate to think my kid was a lush."

Sam would have responded with a tart remark, but he saw the twinkle in his father's eye. He'd been around his old man long enough now to know that he was just kidding, but the scary thing was, he himself might have said the very same thing given the right circumstances. Feeling uncomfortable, he changed the subject. "So, Dad, how's the apartment hunting going?"

"It's not easy finding something I can afford that isn't a dump."

Sam laughed. "Tell me about it! Free room and board was one of the incentives for hanging out with beautiful rich women. Among other things."

His father sighed, biting back his condemnation because he knew those days were ancient history - for both of them. "I don't know how you manage it these days, since Yvette stays home with little Samuel and doesn't work."

Sam took a sip of his mojito. "I do okay. Nothin' you need to worry about, Dad. My freelance work pads the pension nicely and keeps us comfortable." It didn't hurt that Mom left me enough to pay off the house and the new car. He glanced around casually, returned his attention to his father, and lowered his voice. "Let's just leave it at that, because my financial state is none of your business."

"Okay, okay." He let out a breath. "I apologize for being concerned about my son and his family's well-being. I know you're not used to that."

As he studied the blatant honesty in his dad's eyes, Sam felt like a jerk for getting on his case. "Sorry, Dad. You're right, I'm not used to this side of you." His phone rang, and he fumbled in his pocket to retrieve it.

"Hold that thought. I'll be right back." Samuel moved down the bar to take an order while Sam took his phone call. By the time he finished with the customers, Sam was waiting for him to return.

"What is it? It doesn't look good."

Sam cocked his head and leaned back to give himself a little breathing room. "That was Eve. Apparently she's decided that we need to buy a bed for the downstairs bedroom. For you."

"Really?" The corner of his mouth tipped up as he grinned. "Smart girl you married, Sammy."

"I suppose, it really doesn't make a lot of sense for you to get your own place. I know you've been helping around the house, and Samuel seems to have taken a real shine to his grandpa, so...I said yes, on a couple of conditions." He crossed his arms and rested them on bar.

Samuel leaned his elbows on the edge directly across from Sam and bent down until they were eye to eye. "Shoot."

"One, you stay out of my business. And two...you contribute a little to the household. Whether that involves babysitting or money, well, I'll leave that up to Eve." His eyes gleamed. "Although, if you're free to babysit tomorrow night...I've got a hot date with my wife." He winked and gave his dad a cocked grin.

Samuel laughed and straightened. "I'd be happy to do that. I don't work nights, so it'll be perfect."

"Great. And thanks. Not just for giving us a night out, but..."

"Sorry we're late," Michael apologized as he sidled up to the two Sams. "My mom had an 'emergency' again."

"What was it this time, the dishwasher making weird noises?"

"No, she found a lizard in the kitchen." Fiona responded as she reached around behind Sam and took her drink.

"You know there's a cure for that, Mikey. Sledgehammer. One good whack, no more lizard."

Michael grimaced. "Yeah, well, we wanted to keep the kitchen floor intact."

"Then C4 is out." Sam swiveled around to face her. "Sorry, Fi."

"It would be a waste of good high-quality explosives." She crunched her celery.

Michael reached for his beer and gave Sam's father a nod. "Why don't we grab a table. I've got a new case for us."

"It's about time." As he followed his friends to the table, he shot over his shoulder, "Talk to you later, Dad. Business calls."

"Understood."

As he settled into his chair, Sam asked, "Hey, wait Mike, this doesn't involve the CIA, does it?"

"No, Sam. This is one where we're on our own, although, depending upon the outcome, the CIA may be interested in our man." Michael reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a photograph and some papers. He spread them out on the table surface in front of his friends. "This guy here, Pietr Salenkov, is a former spy with the Soviet Union. Intelligence says he was burned, like me, but he's looking for a new force to ally himself with." He tapped the photograph with his index finger. "He's been spotted in Little Russia and Little Havana."

"An equal opportunist, but still thinking inside the box, eh, Mikey?" Sam shook his head. "Should be easy to nail him down, but what do we do with him then?"

"Actually, that's where the CIA comes in. They want Selenkov for what he knows about the current inner workings of the KGB...and other secret agencies within the Soviet Union."

Sam scowled and took a long drag on his mojito. "Oh yeah, I get it. We do all the legwork, we bring him in alive, and they grill the snot out of him until he talks. How come they get all the fun?"

"My thought's exactly, Sam." Fiona eyed Michael over her drink. "I think that Michael is trying to earn some brownie points with Pearce. Still paying her back for getting me out of the clutches of the FBI, I suppose."

"Okay, we're getting off track. Let's focus." Those were Michael's code words for the fact that he didn't want to talk about it.

He'd already spent enough time analyzing what he was doing after he nearly lost Fiona to Anson and his diabolical plan. Taking Anson down made his handler happy, but the agency's role in returning Fiona to him left him in a quandary. He felt like he owed them now. Yet almost constantly he questioned whether working for the CIA was really that important, or if he would be better off running covert ops for civilians who needed his help. Taking a good look at his friends as they discussed this case, seeing the lack of spark in Sam's eyes and Fiona's half hearted attempt to follow along left him less than enthused about pursuing his old job with the government. If they were spending their time helping defenseless women against scammers and abusers, Sam and Fi would be all in.

"You know what?" Michael suddenly pushed the papers back into a neat pile and pulled a small sheaf from Sam's hand.

"Hey, I was looking at that!"

"No, it's okay. I can take care of this with a little help from the CIA. I don't know why I even expected you two to help me."

"You expected it because that's what we do," Fiona replied as she leaned back in her chair and studied him.

"Yeah, Mike." Sam snatched the papers out of his grip. "Come on, sit down. We'll come up with a plan to lure him and we'll probably have this sewn up in a couple of days. No problem."

Michael did as he was told, but he glanced sideways at Sam. "Right, like some of those other jobs you said we could clean up in a day."

"Madelyn? What are you doing here?" Fiona's eyes were hidden by her big sunglasses, but the lenses were fixed on a figure standing over Michael's shoulder.

Michael turned around and glanced up at the distressed look on her face. "Hey Ma, what's up? Find another lizard?"

"No, Michael. But I might. You know, where there's one there are more. Hundreds, maybe."

"I think you're confusing them with cockroaches, Maddie." Sam drained the last of his drink and signaled for another round.

"It doesn't matter. I just need somebody to do something! I can't go back into that house until I know it's free of creepy crawly things."

"Ma, we've got something really important going on here right now..."

"Hi Sam. Your dad says you better take it easy on the mojitos or the next one will be alcohol free." The server smiled and placed the drink in front of him.

"Great." Sam muttered as he curled his hand around the sweating glass. "Tell him I told him to mind his own business, and that if he doesn't, he'll be sleeping on the floor until he finds his own place." He leaned forward and looked at his father with a grin that hid his irritation, lifted his glass, and drank.

Maddie stared at Sam and gasped. "Sam! You shouldn't talk to your father...wait a minute. Your father is here?" She glanced around trying to get a glimpse of him, but she didn't know what he looked like. Before Sam could say anything, her eyes locked on the man behind the bar and she sucked in a breath. "Well, I'll be..." She grinned and shaded her sunglass covered eyes with one hand, while she waggled the fingers on her other hand. He waved back, puzzled. "I should have known he'd look like you. Or rather, the other way around." She turned to Sam, and he guessed that behind her sunglasses, Maddie's eyes danced with glee as she exclaimed like a lovesick teenager. "He's cute!"

"He's single, Maddie." Fiona grinned over her drink. "Why don't you go talk to him?"

"I just might!" Her troubles forgotten, she practically floated across the patio to the bar.

"Thanks a lot, Fi!" Michael and Sam chorused and glanced at each other.

"What? What did I do?"

"My mom...and Sam's dad? Fi, what are you thinking?"

"I think they'd make a cute couple."

"No, they won't," Sam disagreed with a scowl.

"Okay, what's wrong with my mom?"

"What's wrong with my dad?"

"Boys, please! They're grownups. Why don't you let them decide for themselves?"

Michael and Sam watched the scene at the bar. Samuel Sr. fixed Maddie a drink and grinned at her the entire time. They couldn't see her reaction, but it must have been encouraging, at least to Sam's father, because Samuel leaned against the bar, gave her the trademark Sam Axe crooked smile, and spoke to her and her alone. It was enough to make Sam wonder if his tactics were genetic, because he sure hadn't learned them from his dad, but he was seeing them right before his eyes. Watching him make the moves on Maddie was scary. Michael gave him an icy glare, and all Sam could do was shrug in reply.