A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and sending out a special thanks to Jedi Skysinger for managing to find time to BETA this story for me.
In this chapter Michael visits his mother to find someone from his past already there.
TWO HOURS TOO LATE
Chapter Nine
People with happy families don't become spies. A bad childhood is the perfect background for covert ops - you don't trust anyone, you're used to getting smacked around and you never get homesick.
Michael Westen was a man who had spent the whole of his adult life serving, first in the military and then later as a covert operative travelling the world going from one dangerous situation to another. He had spent nearly two years living undercover in Serbia and Bosnia during one of the most brutal conflicts in modern history. Later on he had moved through Russia like a ghost, his name a source of horror stories told to frighten newly minted FSB agents; 'The Terror of Kiev,' being one of his favorites.
And yet standing on the street a block away from his family home, the burnt spy felt the same cold, mind-numbing dread that had filled his heart as a sixteen year old youth returning home late after a night out with his friends or having just dropped off his date de jour or just plain avoiding his dad.
Pursing his lips, Michael pushed those childish feelings to the back of his mind. His father was long dead, the old bastard had been gone for the last eight years; the emotions which were refusing to go away had more to do with confronting his mother for the first time in what had to be nearly a decade.
It was the bark of a neighborhood dog that brought his attention back to the present, his eyes flickering over the nearby houses. Catching a slight shift in the slats of an upstairs window blind from across the road, Michael realized if he was going to do this, he had better get going before someone came out to ask what he was doing or worse, recognized him from back in the day.
Leaving Sam's car at the side of the road, he strolled casually along the street until he spotted a house with a for sale sign on the lawn and no cars in the drive. In an instant, the covert operative vanished from the street and sprinted down the side between the house and its detached garage before easily clearing a low gate leading into the backyard and then once across the lawn over the perimeter fence, as he had done hundreds of times in his youth.
From there, he was into one of his mother's neighbour's backyards and a few seconds later he was standing concealed amongst the thorny vines and sweet smelling blooms of his mom's overgrown bougainvillea bush. He paused, staring at his mother's car. The hood was up and music was coming from a radio resting on the set of steps that led up to the kitchen door. Nate had to be home…
Mr Westen blinked, his lips pursing as he registered this piece of news. Great, just what I need. The last time he had seen his younger sibling his brother had thrown a telephone book at his head before rushing out of the door with the keys to his rental car.
But that thought suddenly died as a familiar feminine figure stepped from behind the old blue car. She was slender, petite, dressed in faded blue skinny jeans and pale green sleeveless T-shirt with her long auburn hair held back in a messy bun...
Fiona!
"Well, Madeline, I think I found the problem... There's a loose connection in one of the battery terminals. I must have missed it yesterday but that would explain the trouble you've been having."
She was using the same American accent he had taught her how to mimic for their first and last semi-official CIA mission… semi-official in that he had taken her along as his tactical support instead of his employer's preferred asset. Amsterdam... Just before everything went wrong...
"Oh honey, that is good news. You know you didn't have to drive all the way over to do this for me. I'm sure Nate would have come around… eventually… That boy is just so busy these days – with work. Why don't you come back inside and get cleaned up? I've made some iced tea."
And there was his mother, standing by the kitchen door dressed in a bright blue tunic over the top of a white T-shirt and matching capri pants. She looked good, even with that godawful blonde wig on, the same one she once used to wear to disguise the missing tufts from when her loving husband had ripped them out during one his drunken rages. What the hell was she doing wearing it now... and what the hell was Fiona doing here anyway?
He stood as if held in place by some unseen force when really all he wanted to do was disappear back over the wall he had just climbed. His mom and his ex, making out like they were the best of friends… The unexpected sight of the two most troublesome women in his life standing there together had momentarily banished all of the spy's considerable tactical awareness.
"Michael...?"
It was too late now to slip back into the shadows; all he could do was offer a weak smile and a half-hearted wave as his mother started towards him
"Oh, Michael, honey, you're home... Thank goodness you're finally back!"
He staggered slightly from the weight of his mother's body hitting him in the chest as her arms wrapped about his waist. "I'm not back," he protested weakly.
Madeline chose to completely ignore his denial and make introductions instead. "Fiona, this is my oldest boy, Michael. You see, I was right. I knew he'd come home to see me."
He returned the hug awkwardly, stiffly patting her back. But his eyes were firmly fixed on the woman standing beside his mother's car staring back at him with bemusement on her face.
"Hello Michael…" The redhead smirked, watching the scene playing out before her and finding it increasingly entertaining.
"What were you doing skulking around in the bushes?" Madeline scolded her son, now that the shock of his sudden appearance had worn off, clearly still unaware of the looks passing between the two younger people. "It's not like you have to sneak through Mrs Reynolds' backyard anymore. You can come through the front door, you know."
Those words were enough to bring him out of his daze. His mother's rapid change of mood was irritating as always, but completely familiar. However, Fiona Glenanne, here of all places, was totally unexpected. His former asset turning up at the same time that he was burned, along with first Larry and then Sam. It couldn't be a coincidence, what game was being played at his expense?
"Mom… Mom…" He drew back, holding her at arm's length with his hands on her shoulders. "Let's go inside and you can tell me all about your new friend." He turned the older woman about, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and marching her up the steps and into the kitchen.
On the way, with Madeline still oblivious, he locked eyes again with the only woman he had ever thought he could put before his job. Frowning, he gestured with a jerk of his chin for her to follow him inside.
"Hi... Fiona, is it? Why don't you join us? I just love meeting my mom's new friends." The warmth in his voice was completely at odds with his icy expression.
With all the chess pieces representing his life moving about the board, the last thing he wanted or needed was the Irish wildcard that was Fiona Glenanne upending the table and setting fire to everything in a fit of pique.
Hearing the kitchen door click shut behind him, Michael released his mother from his grip and with his arms crossed over his chest, Mr Westen stood with his back resting against the wall, giving him a view both of the window, the front door and the two women who had over the years caused him the most heartache. "So, how did you two meet?"
"Really Michael, is that the first thing you can think to say after being away for so long? You haven't even asked how I am. I was at the hospital yesterday, you know? It could have been very serious. The doctor had to give me another new prescription," Madeline pouted, the hurt in her voice almost palpable.
"I know, mom. I pay the bills, remember…? He changed his tone in an effort to change the subject from his mother's growing medical expenses. He was dreading breaking the news that he wouldn't be paying for all her treatments any more… Another gift from the CIA and whichever drone in Homeland Security who had issued the burn notice…
"You couldn't even call? Let me know you were back? I have to find out that you're home when the FBI shows up on my doorstep?"
"The FBI…was here… inside the house?" His head whipped around, trying to look everywhere at once, his imagination going wild. "How long ago were they here? What did they ask you? Did –"
"Michael –" Madeline was about to complain about her son's lack of manners when she was interrupted by the younger woman.
"I was here when they dropped by," Fiona cut in. "You're apparently quite a popular fellow."
Michael was momentarily speechless, struggling to keep his conflicting emotions under control. He was sure this could get worse but at the moment he couldn't see how. They probably had surveillance on the house and listening devices planted already. They could be crashing the door -
"Don't worry, Michael. They didn't have time to do anything more than make a mess," she assured him with a mild look of anger at the invasion sparking in her eyes.
"You were here? The whole time?" The confusion rampaging through his mind disappeared in that instant, driven away by a sudden attack of suspicion and paranoia. Fiona arrived at the same time as the Feds. Sam was talking to the Feds too. Was it all connected?
"Yes, Michael, they insisted on looking around, I kept an eye on them though... Made sure they didn't do anything underhanded." That mild look of anger changed as her expression grew darker, reminding him of her hatred of any government agency and his job working for one... No, there was no way, not Fiona… she would never work for the FBI.
The dark haired spy was momentarily ashamed of his earlier thoughts. He took a half step forward, his face softening as he changed tactics, intent on getting all the intel he could from his former lover about his mother's houseguests. But before he could move, the person he had momentarily forgotten was in the room spoke up.
"Wait a minute..." Madeline's voice went up an octave, her eyes swinging from one to the other as the retiree began to pick up on the energy passing between her son and her friend. "You two… you two know each other, don't you?" She rounded on Fiona. "Have you been lying to me this whole time? Were you just here looking for my son like those two men earlier?"
"No – well, um, er –"
Michael barely managed to conceal the feelings of satisfaction as this ghost from his past struggled to answer his mother's accusation. But that sensation didn't last long, as a fraction of a second later he could only stare in admiration as the auburn haired beauty rallied. Her blue-green eyes widened, and then with a heavy sigh, the younger woman reached out taking his mother's hands in her own before starting again.
"I can explain, Madeline, it really is just the biggest coincidence... Everything I told you was true. I was in New York up to two days ago, and I did take a call from a person working at a Miami motel informing me that my friend, Michael McBride, had been badly hurt, and I– "
She batted her eyelashes and smiled shyly causing Michael to roll his own eyes in disgust.
"And I of course dropped everything and rushed all the way to Miami to be at his side. You see we – Michael, my Michael that is," her gaze flicked quickly towards the burned spy before returning to his mother. "We used to be together. There were promises made." She smiled softly at him again before her expression fell. "But then one day he just up and left me without a word, disappeared into the night."
"That sounds about right," Madeline groused, crossing her arms over her chest, giving her son the evil eye.
"I didn't mean to mislead you. Honestly, I was at the hospital looking for my friend, in case he had been brought there, as the stupid people at the motel didn't know where he had gone. But of course he wasn't there and whole thing, travelling on a moment's notice, not being able to find him… I was so worried about what might have happened to him… well, it all just left me with a blinding headache and that's why I was looking for a pharmacy when I saw you were having car trouble. I didn't even connect my Michael to your Michael until I saw him today."
The spy thought he was going to be physically sick as he listened to the ex IRA terrorist lay on so much syrupy charm, but what was even worse was the way his mother seemed to be lapping it up. Fiona always had been a great actress. She could go from hardcore freedom fighter to a sophisticated lady in the blink of an eye.
"Seriously…?" he grumbled under his breath. "You're actually buying this?"
But at his mother's next words, he knew he had lost.
"Oh Michael, shush," Madeline admonished her son before turning back to the younger woman with a beaming smile on her face.
"You travelled all the way from New York just to be there for Michael when he needed you?" Then before her son had a chance to answer and to his absolute disgust his mother gave the petite redhead a big hug. "You and Michael were together? You know he never bothers to tell me anything about his girlfriends? I think he's shy."
"Mom, Mom... Fiona!" He knew he had to break up this budding friendship before his mother began planning their wedding. When he was sure he had both of their attention, he addressed the pair. "Fiona, as delighted as I am that you came all this way to check on my health– "
"Michael Westen, don't you dare try to send Fiona away!" Madeline rounded on her son. "She has been nothing but kind to me, and she travelled all the way from New York, leaving behind a very successful business just to find you. And what were you doing using another name and lying to her like that? I raised you better than that, you know."
Throwing his arms up in frustration, the dark haired spy's mouth opened and then snapped closed before the words he was about to utter came out. Now was not the time to get into a fight he stood no chance of winning. Besides, the FBI had been by his mom's house. He needed to find out what was going on and get out of here...
"Fine," he huffed, "Look, it's nearly noon, so why don't you fix something for us to eat while me and Fi catch up and then we'll sit down and talk about it over lunch." He barred his teeth in a big smile and then before Mrs. Westen could decline, the burned spy took hold of his ex-lover's arm and guided the younger woman across his mother's living room into what the older woman liked to call her sun room.
He had zero intentions of staying to eat his mom's cooking, much less talk, but he needed to find out what was going on and fast. Closing the blinds, so they wouldn't be spotted by any nosy FBI agents running surveillance on the home of the mother of who he suspected was now topping the FBI's most wanted list, Michael steeled himself for trying to get what he needed from Fiona before the petite redhead could start swinging. After the way they had parted company in Berlin, he was actually a little grateful for the other woman's presence to curtail any potential violence.
"So, why are you really here?" he asked warily.
"Well hello ta ya taa, Michael," she reverted to her native accent. Then when he continued to silently glare in her direction, the Irishwoman huffed and answered his question. "Like I told yar mam, I got a call fram tha maid at thot motel ya war stayin' in, tellin' me ya had been dumped thare two days ago an' had barely moved an inch. She'd got curious about ya, so she went through yar stuff... Am thinkin' she wa' afraid ya wa' gonna die on her an' leave a right mess."
She stepped into his personal space and stared up intensely into his troubled blue orbs. "Ya still have me in yar wallet as yar emergency contact… Ya take that out when you leave someone, ya know," Fiona accused softly.
"Sorry, you were inconvenienced," he muttered, as he moved away from her to risk peering out through a narrow gap in the now shuttered blinds, half expecting to see a heavily armed tactical team swarming across his mother's lawn at any moment.
"Don't feel sorry fer me, Michael. I needed to get out of New York anyway. Old enemies sniffin' an' such and I wanted to try some place sunny. Besides, when I heard ya might be dying, I wanted ta be thare, at tha end… ta tell ya whot a bastard ya war."
He turned away from the window to stare straight into his former lover's blue-green eyes. He had forgotten how intoxicating it was to be in her presence, her love of life and wild spirit so different from his own driven nature. But everything had always been a game for the fiery tempered Irishwoman and, as much as he was tempted to ask for her help, he knew it would never work out.
The last time they had worked together, at the beginning of the year, he'd made the mistake of admitting he wanted to be with her when the job was over… But Fiona had taken that to mean the job they were working on and not an ending to his career with the CIA that he'd been thinking of…To say that scenario had ended badly was a severe understatement. He still had the scar to prove it… But now that he had been involuntarily unemployed by the Agency, he was certain being around the former PIRA operative was going involve her pushing to fulfil what she considered promises made.
"Well, as you can see I am very much alive, so – so you can get back to whatever it was you were doing before you met my mom, I hear the South of France is nice and sunny this time of year."
He checked his wristwatch. He had set aside an hour for dealing with his mom before going to meet Larry for lunch. Now he had to worry about how much time he had before the FBI showed up at the house to put a pair of handcuffs on him and haul him away.
Plus, the older man had sounded positively gleeful when he had called early in the morning announcing that he was just going to finish clearing up a few details and then he would be ready to wrap up the job. Disappointing his former mentor was another risk he wasn't willing to take.
"Oh, Am nae goin' anywhare, Michael. Ya wonnae have heard yet, but Madeline has invited me ta stay fer Christmas dinner. Wonnae thot be great, this time I get ta meet all yar family at Christmas?"
"Fi..." He growled out the syllable. He had wondered how things could get worse, well now he knew. He actually felt relief that he would be leaving Miami soon, even if it was with Larry.
"Michael," she purred causing him to flinch as he realized while he had been distracted she had moved a whole lot closer to him again. Leaning in so their chests were touching and her mouth was mere inches from his ear. "Ya promised me we'd be together once tha job wa' over. Well, fram whot I understand yar government is done wit' ya an' if all tham bodies ya left behind near thot motel ar' any clue, I'd say ya have finished wit' tham taa."
Michael could feel the small hairs at the back of his neck stand up as her breath tickled his ear and his traitorous body was beginning to respond to having her so close. Blinking slowly, he pushed away the thoughts his natural instincts were edging to the fore. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of… When he disappointed her the last time, it had ended with her slicing his arm open before leaving him alone to disarm a bomb which would have taken out their hotel as well as a sizeable chunk of Berlin real estate if he had failed the task. Between the burn notice, Larry and the FBI manhunt he'd caused, he had too much to deal with already without adding Fiona into it.
"You were at that motel. You saw what had happened there. That wasn't me, Fi, and you know it." Michael vehemently denied the charges. Shaking his head, he took a step back. "I am going to have to clear myself with the Feds and the Agency and you being here – you, and my mom…."
The flustered spy paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it was too dangerous having her around. But danger, like violence, was foreplay to the fiery redhead. The last thing he needed was her confusing him like she always did. Even now, he felt the attraction that always came with her presence, the impossible desires that she inspired… "It complicates things," he finished lamely.
"Com-pli-cates things… Aye, I've heard tham words befer. Is nae thot yar way o' saying get lost, tis none o' yar business?" He found himself backing up as she stalked him into a corner.
"Here we are… some tuna salad sandwiches. I have some cold cuts in the fridge if you prefer."
Michael was actually glad when his mother came bustling in to the sun room, her arms weighed down by a tray full of sandwiches and fresh glasses of iced tea. He was even more grateful when his phone began to vibrate in his pants pocket. Raising his hands as if in surrender, he squeezed past his former lover and made for the relative privacy of the kitchen.
"Hey Sam," he answered softly.
"We got trouble Mikey," came the urgent reply.
"What is it?"
"I did what you asked, brother. I went and told Javier what's going on and for him to lay low and not go to work while we fix this mess. Then I went over to see Pyne and let him know he needed to back off. Well, it looks like the bastard is trying to get some leverage of his own." Michael heard a click and then the real estate mogul's voice sounded.
"I'll get my lawyer to call Javier, get him to go to the office to make a statement or sign some documents. Vincent, you're going to have go over and take the kid. I don't know what the hell else to do. Maybe then we can talk some sense into Javier and get rid of this guy he hired."
"Pyne made the call and got Javier out of the house. Now the kid is home alone and Vincent is on his way there."
"How long ago?"
"I called you as soon as I heard, brother... Look, I'd go myself but you've got my car and the lady friend is still– "
"It's okay, Sam. I'll deal with it... Keep listening in." He ended the call and turned his attention to the two women who were staring over at him.
"I have to go," he announced, his mind swirling with ideas of how he was going to save the day and also avoid the Feds who, even though he couldn't see them outside, were most likely nearby.
"Leaving, are you? Yeah, you're good at that." He winced at the bitterness in the Irishwoman's tone, though he was also pleased to hear she had reverted to her American accent. Explaining that Fiona had been his Irish asset was a conversation for another time… preferable never.
"But you'll be here for Christmas? Michael, I need you to go talk to your brother."
He recognized the desperation in his mother's voice, but was too busy opening and shutting drawers searching for anything that could help him subdue a muscle-bound ex-special forces bodyguard.
"Mom, last time I saw Nate, he had taken ten credit cards out in my name and was running out of the door. What makes you thing he would listen to me?" He found a large bundle of plastic cable ties, which was better than nothing. "Are Dad's tools still in the garage?"
"Nate's not answering my calls. Please, Michael, say you'll talk to him."
"Fine, if I have the time, I will talk to him," he yelled over his shoulder as he went out the back door and headed towards the squat building across the driveway. Anything to get her to stop talking and let him get away... That thought brought him to his next problem: he couldn't take Sam's luxury car into what was likely going to be a very messy situation.
"Fiona…" He turned to face the redhead, who had followed him into the garage while he rifled through the rusted tool boxes, plastering his most charming smile on his face. "What are you driving? Any chance I can borrow your ride?"
"Why should I lend you my truck?" Her eyes narrowed. He was running off and leaving her and his only family without any explanation or promise to return. He was lucky that she didn't lay him out and stomp on his chest with one of her high heeled sandals.
"Please, Fi," he begged. "There is a kid out there, who is going to be hurt if I can't get there first. Please, just drive it around onto the street behind this one and I'll take it from there."
"A wee one in trouble..." she thought to herself. Michael knew how much it infuriated her when there was a child involved. "If you're lying to me–" She left the threat open. "Fine, I'll come too. You might need back up."
"No," he hissed low. "I need you stay here and keep an eye on my mom. Please, Fi? The FBI's already been here, you know this is bad. I'll be back soon. I promise."
"I'll hunt you down like the dog you are if you don't come back," she informed him in a cheery voice that was completely at odds with her words.
He tentatively leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. "Thank you... See you around the corner in a few minutes" Michael stuffed everything he'd grabbed into his father's old tool belt and then he was gone, over the fence ignoring the calls of his mother to explain what was going on.
