Chapter 10
"You and your friend were both lucky." The doctor stitching up Michael's side remarked as he finished the last suture. "If you'd been turned just a little more, we would have you on an OR table right now."
"And Sam?" Michael winced as he tested out the doctor's handiwork by reaching for his bloody shirt.
"Same thing. That bullet just scraped across the outside of his thigh. A couple inches the other way and it could have broken his femur, or worst case scenario, sliced through the femoral artery."
Michael held up his hand. He'd had enough experience with battlefield wounds to know the fatal outcome of such an injury. "Thanks, doc. Are we gonna have to stay here?"
"I would recommend an overnight stay, well, a one day stay, given that it's already a new day." The doctor glanced toward a window where they saw the sky lightening in the east. The sun would be up soon.
"We've got to get back to Miami."
"Then I suggest you both get your scrips filled, or you'll be in some major pain on the flight back." He scribbled something on a small pad, tore the sheet off, and gave it to Michael. "There's a pharmacy on the second floor where you can get this filled."
Michael took the prescription and tried to decipher the handwriting. He hoped that the pharmacist knew what it said, because it looked like a mess to him. He slipped off the exam table, and as he put his shirt on carefully, he said, "Thanks. I'll have to see how Sam is doing, and check in to see if we need to stick around to debrief. Then we're gone."
The doctor nodded. "Good luck, Mr. Westen." He turned and hustled down the corridor to his next patient, leaving Michael alone.
"Hey," Michael stopped a nurse as he came out of the cubicle. "Can you help me find my friend?"
"What's his name," the nurse asked with a sympathetic smile.
"Sam Axe."
"Oh, he's down here. Come with me."
As they neared the curtained area, Michael heard sounds of expressed pain. He fought the urge to wince in empathy for his friend and followed the nurse to the opening. She turned to him, indicated with her hand that this was the place, and he silently thanked her with a nod. Then she quickly went on her way.
Putting on a smile, Michael walked in. "Hey, Sam. Are you giving these people a hard time?"
Sam was too busy grimacing to notice at first that Michael had entered the area.
"Okay, we're almost done here, Mr. Axe." The doctor dabbed at the three inch gash. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Michael. "Who are you?"
"I'm his friend, Michael Westen."
"Ah. Well, we're almost finished here. I'm not going to stitch this up. I'm just disinfecting the area and he'll have to let it heal on its own. He may need some plastic surgery in the future..."
"Nah, I'll keep it. It'll give me a good story to tell," Sam joked even while his face still registered pain. "Well, maybe a not so good story." He looked up at Michael. "Hey, look at you! You dodged a bullet again, huh, Mikey?"
"Not quite." He held up his shirt and showed Sam the large gauze pad the doctor stuck there. "Twenty stitches. That bullet just raked me."
Sam winced. "How's Jesse?"
"Not a scratch on him, as far as I know."
"That's good. What about Pearce?"
"After checking up on you, I was going to call her and see if we need to meet with the higher ups before we leave."
"Well, I won't be here too long. I'll meet you out in the waiting room." He sucked in a breath through his teeth as the doctor finished treating the wound and bandaging it.
By the time Sam exited the emergency room in pants torn and bloody, carrying a similar prescription in his hand, Michael reunited with Jesse and heard the rest of the story. The two stood waiting for Sam with grim expressions on their faces.
"Do I really look that bad," Sam asked as he limped over to them. "Where's Pearce? I hope they've got Card in a nice secure cell, and they throw away the key. I never liked that guy. Now I know I was right on about him."
Michael's face took on a serious frown. "They're both dead."
"What?"
"They're running an investigation," Jesse answered. "But right now, it looks like Card shot Dani, and she shot back. She bled out. But Card," Jesse shook his head slowly, "One shot, and he was dead. She's a hero, man. If she hadn't shot back, who knows? He might have started taking shots at us heading for the chopper.
"Pearce is dead?" Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Mike, who'll be your contact at the agency?"
"I don't know," Michael answered. ""Let's go to the pharmacy and get these filled, because there's a car coming for us. We have to go back to HQ for a debrief before we even think of leaving for Miami." He paused, fighting the emotional lump in his throat. "Right now I don't really care. I just want to go home and try to get Fi released."
Fiona thought she was all done with Bly after the day she was arrested and he interrogated her, and he tried to make her think that Michael was dead so that she would admit to something she didn't do. The months in jail were depressing, and survival was the name of the game every single day. Her brief visits with Michael were the only thing that kept her going. That, and a desire to get out and exact some kind of revenge on the person who planned this trap for her: Anson. She sat in her horrible bright orange scrubs, chained to the table again, when Bly entered the small windowless room with a smile and a pile of things under his arm.
"Fiona, so nice to see you again."
"Go to hell," she muttered.
Bly tsked, dropped the stack on the table with a loud thud that made her jump even though she could see it coming, and sat in the chair opposite her. "You know, you could be a little nicer to me, since you might just get your freedom back today."
Fiona stared, doing her best not to give him the reaction he wanted. It was some sort of trick, she was certain of it. Her eyes threw daggers at him, which he chose to ignore.
"I want you to tell me what happened the day of the British Consulate bombing. But this time, I want the truth." His look softened as he folded his hands and leaned forward. "Ms. Glenanne, we know about Anson and how he played Michael, you, and his friends. We know Anson was responsible for the bombing of the lobby that killed those two guards. But what I want to know is why you planted the bomb just outside the consulate window?"
"It's a matter for the CIA, not the CSS, nor whoever you represent these days."
"You're a tough little cookie, I'll give you that." Bly smirked and sat back, crossing his legs. Then he looked directly into her eyes as he continued. "We know that Larry Sizemore was working with Anson, as were several agents within the CIA. Through an inter-department investigation, we learned what he was doing there. And I know you, Michael, and Sam were trying to stop him. Apparently, your good deed will go unpunished."
"What do you mean?"
Bly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again. "Despite your affiliation with a terrorist group in Ireland, and many many questionable activities here in the States, our government has decided that you're more of an asset out on the streets versus inside these walls." He pushed a folder across the table. "These are your release papers."
After the secrecy and turnabouts of the past six years, Fiona was wary. "Who authorized this?"
"The head of the CIA."
"I don't understand." She shook her head, in shock.
Bly studied her. "I would think you'd be jumping for joy and crying all happy tears because your'e going home."
"I don't get that emotional. I just want to know why. Is this some sort of trick?"
The mocking tone disappeared, replaced by one of seriousness. "No, Fiona, it's no trick. This morning, your boyfriend and his friends met with the CIA director for a debrief, and Michael... negotiated your release."
Fiona's mouth hung open. She feared that the negotiations involved signing his name on a dotted line, promising to be an agent for the rest of his life. Whatever Michael did, it couldn't have been easy or to his benefit.
"That man really loves you," Bly spoke softly with an equally soft smile. "I wouldn't waste the time, if I were you." He suddenly pushed his chair away from the table and stood. He picked up his files, tapped them on the table and said, "Good luck, Ms. Glenanne. And try to keep your nose clean, okay? I don't know if our government will be so lenient next time."
The door slammed closed, leaving Fiona alone to mull over her new situation. A few minutes later, a female guard came to unlock her from the shackles. She and another guard led her to her cell. When they stood outside and didn't leave, she asked, "What?"
"Pack up your personal belongings, Glenanne. You're leaving. Now."
Those words felt like a sucker punch to the gut. When Bly told her she was free, she didn't believe him. Now the guards told her to pack up. Part of her still thought it was a ruse, and that surely something more dark awaited her. Her natural wariness took center stage as she mechanically grabbed her few belongings and hurried out of the cell. All eyes were on her as they escorted her out of the bowels of the prison. Even when they handed her the clothing in which she arrived, she still could not believe that she was being set free.
"You can change in that room," the guard said and pointed her to a small changing area.
"Thank you." She closed the door, surprised that they left her alone without another guard watching. She closely examined the corners and edges of the room, looking for a hidden camera, but there was none. Still blindsided by this turn of events, she undressed and put on her old clothes. They still fit. She expected them to be a little loose, since prison food wasn't exactly her usual fare. As she slipped on her shoes, she unlocked the door and swung it open.
"You can leave your uniform in there," the guard said, and beckoned her to follow.
They walked the corridors that she remembered from the day she entered the facility. Eventually, they led outside, down a long fenced area that ran beside two workout areas, and finally ended at the front gate. A buzzer sounded, the signal that the gate was unlatched, and the guard waited until it pulled aside.
"You're free to go now, Glenanne. Stay out of trouble."
Fiona could only nod. If she only knew the kinds of trouble she got into with Michael! She turned toward the exit and took her first steps to freedom. It didn't feel any different than just walking, but the sun seemed to be brighter on the outside, and the air fresher. She took a deep breath, tilting her head toward the sun.
"Fiona." The voice cracked, and Fiona's head straightened.
"Madeline." A wide smile crossed her face. She was hoping that Michael would be there to meet her, but his mother was just as good a sight to see.
Maddie hurried across the parking lot and took Fiona into her arms, hugging her close. "Fiona, it's so good to see you!" She pulled back and took her in. "You look like prison didn't mess you up. But I bet you could use a good meal! Come on, let's go get something to eat, and then we'll head back to Miami! Michael is on his way home from DC. You know he was up there on a mission?"
"I heard something, but not much."
Maddie's smile faded briefly, but it quickly returned. "That's okay! I'm sure Michael can tell you all about it later! Right now, we need to get moving if we want to meet his plane! We'll grab something to eat along the way, okay?" Maddie clutched Fiona's elbow and led her to the car.
It was all Fiona could do to keep from laughing. Her smile beamed as she let Maddie take control. She dropped into the passenger seat, and she barely had her seatbelt on before Maddie lit a cigarette and put the car in gear. She secretly hoped the woman didn't get a speeding ticket on the way home. Home. That word rattled around in her head and sounded so good. It would be even better after she had a chance to sit down with Michael and talk. So many things needed to be said, and the sooner, the better.
Michael was glad to be back in Miami. That struck him as odd at first, but then he realized that his reasons for being there were so different than they were six years before. He wasn't being dumped with a lot of unresolved issues in his life, including being burned. This time, he was back in the agency's good graces and his personal relationships had been healed. All but one, that is. And he was about to remedy that as soon as possible.
"It's nice to be back home, isn't it," Sam mused aloud as he limped along beside his friend and they made their way across the concourse to the main area where they were supposed to meet Maddie. "Feels weird without Jesse, though."
"He'll be back. He just needed some time to regroup." Michael smiled, thinking of their friend on his way to relaxing on some beach in the Caribbean, soaking up the sun and the women, while sipping on mojitos.
A shadow fell across Sam's face. "I think he had feelings for Pearce. He really took her death hard."
"Really? He didn't say anything to me," Michael said as he glanced at Sam.
"Yeah, well, you kinda miss those things sometimes, Mike. They're not always verbal, you know?" He sighed. "Anyway, I hope escaping for awhile will help him get back in the game."
"How about you?"
"Me? Elsa's gonna freak when she sees this," Sam replied as he glanced down at his leg. Before leaving, he commandeered a new pair of pants which hid his injury. "You think she'll believe me if I say it's just a flesh wound?"
Michael laughed and shook his head. "Maybe. But you know she'll still be alarmed."
"Yeah, you're right." He frowned, but then a smile warmed his face. "Oh well, I guess I can look forward to lots of TLC after she's done scolding me!"
They reached the main corridor and heard someone calling, "Michael! Over here! Michael!"
Their eyes locked on Maddie standing nearby, grinning. It made them both feel good, because she hadn't looked that cheerful in awhile. Until the crowd cleared, he had no idea why.
Fiona looked leaner than Michael remembered, more muscular, but her skin glowed in competition with her smile when she saw him. Tears of joy stung his eyes.
"Oh my god, Sam. It's Fi." Michael's words came out softly when he saw her. He took a few strides that Sam couldn't match, moving toward her as if there were no other people around. She gently pushed away from Maddie and hurried to him, and they collided in a heap of arms and lips, collapsing to the floor. Bystanders walked around them, looking down and wondering at the sight, but they didn't care.
"Fi. Ow, careful. Oh, it... it's so good... to see you..." He spoke between breaks in their kisses. "I never thought I'd..."
"Shh, Michael." Fiona answered him. She cradled his face in her hands and bathed him with kisses. "Let's just be glad that it's over, and that we're together again."
When he came up for air, Michael said, "There's so much we have to talk about."
"Oh yes, but it can keep for later." She smiled at him. "Right now, I just want to be with you." She helped him stand and asked, "What happened back in DC?"
"I'll tell you all about it later, or at least what I can," he replied, and with a big smile, said, "Let's go home."
"I'm all for that, brother," Sam echoed as he managed to catch up to them.
After a nice welcome home dinner out, Michael and Fiona prepared to go home. They stood in the parking lot with Maddie, her car parked next to Michael's. He gave her a warm hug and said, "Thanks, Ma, for picking up Fi at the prison. You know I could have done it, but..."
"You were on your way home, Michael. There was no need to keep Fiona there longer than necessary." She pulled back, caressed his cheek and hers with her hands, and said, "You two have a good night. I'll see you soon."
"Thanks, Madeline. For everything." Fiona blinked away tears.
Michael opened Maddie's car door and let her inside. He closed it once she was in, and she started it up, waved, and drove away. He let out a deep sigh.
"Is everything okay, Michael?" Fiona looked at him with concern.
Michael turned back to her with a smile. "It will be, soon."
He kissed her with such passion, she didn't expect to be pressed against the car. But she quickly recovered from her surprise and wrapped her arms around him, her hand cupping the back of his head as she silently entreated him to give her more. He groaned and pulled away, and she smiled at the desire in his eyes.
"Let's go home, Fi."
She nodded eagerly and got into the car. When they arrived at the loft, he let her inside and closed and locked the door behind them. After being in prison, she hated locked doors. But for this, she could make an exception. Fiona barely gave the loft surroundings a glance, because there was only one thing on her mind. Michael came up behind her and walked her to the bed. She turned and flopped on her back, kicked off her shoes, and called him with her eyes. His smile widened, and he obliged.