Chapter 26

Hitching a ride on a military transport was the fastest way to get from D.C. to Miami. Raines made it happen with one phone call.

It was a little after midnight when a cab dropped Michael home. He used the key code and entered the house then rearmed the lock. The guards remained. Raines hadn't yet been convinced they were no longer needed.

Exhaustion nearly overwhelmed him as he silently found his way to the bedroom. Fiona was awake, alert and sliding her 9mm back under the pillow when he appeared in the doorway.

"You didn't call," she said as she sat up and reached for him.

"I should have." His kiss was brief. Too brief.

She smiled. "I'm just glad you're home."

Michael looked around the room. "Where are the boys?"

"I moved them in their own room. I listen for them with a monitor."

He started undressing, and she climbed out of the bed to help him. Everything about him spoke of a dreadful weariness, every slow, plodding movement, even the low tone of his voice.

When he slid into the bed, she joined him and stretched her length next to his. He wrapped his arms around her, breathed in the scent of her hair and buried his face in her neck, kissing the soft skin there before moving his lips across her cheek to find her mouth. "I missed you so much."

And with that said, Michael fell into a deep sleep, his body utterly relaxed, heavy, unmoving. Fiona rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled close. As she held him, she stroked his cheek and his head, as if to encourage every ugly thing he'd dealt with in the past five and a half years to leave so he could begin healing.

When morning arrived, the boys began fussing. Fiona rose and dressed then softly closed the door behind her.

Maddie usually stopped over in the mornings to help with the boys' breakfast, this morning she called to let Fiona know she was keeping Charlie until Ruth could get off work and take him to the doctor. He was running a low grade temperature and she couldn't take him to daycare. Nate was on an out of town job with the limousine company he worked for. Fi agreed with Maddie it would be best not to expose the twins to whatever was making Charlie feel so badly.

As much as she wanted to keep Michael's return all to herself, she told Maddie he'd arrived home very late and was still sleeping.

"I promise not to come barging in like I did the last time, Fi. I'll call first," Maddie promised.

Fiona had both boys parked in their high chairs, sippy cups filled and oatmeal bowls at the ready with bananas when they started squealing and excitedly jabbering. She looked behind her and there was Michael making faces at them. He'd pulled on a pair of jeans but that was all.

She stood to give him a kiss, and asked if he wanted breakfast. "Yogurt in the fridge. Coffee on counter. Seth on the left, Justin on the right."

He laughed. "I was going to ask. My gosh, Fi. I can't tell them apart. Still Justin with the blue toe nail?"

"Yes. They are and they aren't identical . . . you'll see the longer you're around them. And Seth is louder than Justin, most of the time, but Justin is busier."

He kissed the top of both of his sons' heads and straightened Seth's bib before leaning down to kiss Fi again.

"Your mom likes coming for the breakfast antics, but she's watching Charlie today and he's got a fever so she won't be over. She said she'd call before she comes over."

Michael pulled out a chair next to Fi and grabbed a small plastic spoon. He watched Fi for a minute then copied her method of feeding their sons.

"Oh, I should warn you - " She stopped, then laughed.

Justin usually propelled his first bite of cereal forward. Fi laughed and used the cloth she'd brought with her to wipe it from Michael's bare chest.

"Good aim," Michael said around a yawn.

Breakfast for the Westen boys took a little longer than usual. They had grown so much in the past three months, sitting up by themselves, moving their arms, reaching for objects, trying to feed themselves. She could see Michael was surprised by how quickly they had changed.

Trips to the doctor's office had shown Fi that Seth and Justin were wary around strangers, but as soon as Michael spoke to them, they recognized his voice. They seemed to be trying to tell him what had been happening while he was away. Both of Michael's sons waved their chubby little arms, and talked to each other and him. Father and sons were completely engrossed in each other. Breakfast was a noisy, messy affair.

Fi wondered when Michael would realize she'd left him, or realize that he was feeding both of the boys as if he'd always done so.

Not only was he feeding them, but he was busy examining and touching them, from their chubby fingers and toes to their sweet rounded cheeks, tiny noses and perfect little ears to the silky dark hair on their heads. Two pairs of beautiful turquoise eyes framed by dark lashes followed his every move.

He turned to say something to Fi when he realized she was no longer sitting next to him. He looked up to find her leaning against the counter, sipping from a coffee cup, watching him and smiling.

His grin was a bit lopsided, and he almost seemed embarrassed. "They're so big. I didn't think . . ."

She shushed him with a kiss. "They missed you, too. Need some clean up help?"

"Just show me what you do, okay?"

"Sure." She met his troubled blue grey gaze and smiled.

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It took Michael the next three days to tell Fiona what he'd been doing the past few months. Or, rather, tell her as much of it as he was able. Which wasn't nearly as much as he wanted to tell her, or nearly as much as she wanted to know. She wasn't any happier about it now than she had ever been.

"Damned government secrets," she said.

Once again, she had the sense that something was out of sync with Michael, something beyond fatigue from the final operation with Raines, Ethan and Cole.

The fact was he was still employed by the CIA. Raines told him to take four months of leave and report back. Beyond that, he didn't want to talk about anything related to the future. "Can we wait on some of this, Fi? We don't have to decide anything now, do we?"

Wasn't it just last year when he'd said the same thing? But then, it had been because he believed they were not finished putting an end to the black ops organization they'd been fighting. He was right about that. But it was over now. Wasn't it?

She realized the other thing that was happening was that Michael was adjusting to the new circumstances of his life, their life, and she told herself patience had never been her strong suit, but it needed to be now.

At least until he caught up on his sleep.

When the boys napped, Michael napped. At night, she'd been in the habit of going to bed much sooner than she ever had in the past, only because her stubborn lads were not yet ready to sleep through the night. So when she grew tired and went to bed, so did Michael. He was always asleep as soon as he laid down. In the week he had been home, he'd spent more time sleeping than awake.

She'd actually taken the time to add the hours he spent sleeping. Fi found herself teetering on the edge of an uncertain temper, but Michael had yet to notice.

Maddie, Sam, Jesse, Nate and Charlie had all been to the house to welcome him home. They'd arrived one at time on different days, but this evening, everyone dropped in around the same time. Dinner plans turned into a call for pizza delivery. Sam had brought beer. It'd been a lively evening, and Fi had enjoyed herself. Sam and Jesse stayed after Maddie left with Nate and Charlie.

"So how's it going? Adjusting to no longer being persona non grata? That's gotta feel good, Mikey," Sam said, tipping his bottle toward him.

Michael smiled. "It feels . . . different."

"And, hey, Mike, I've been meaning to tell you, when you're done with the CIA thing, come talk to my guys," Jesse invited. "It's interesting work with a lot fewer guns."

"Actually, I was thinking about a business."

"What kind of business?" Jesse wondered.

Sam looked up to see Fiona stop, turn around and look at Michael from across the room. She'd just come back from putting the boys in bed. It was apparent from the expression on her face that Mike's mention of a business was the first she had heard of it. And that wasn't the only thing apparent on her face.

"I don't think I'm an employee type," Michael told Jesse.

"Yeah, well, I'm built a little different than you, Westen," Jesse explained. "I like that financial security and the perks."

As Michael and Jesse continued their conversation Sam wandered over to the refrigerator to collect a fresh beer for himself. He watched Fi reach for a wine glass in the cupboard and set it back down and then pour herself some iced tea.

"So, missy. What's new with you?"

The mildly vulnerable expression on her face confirmed what Sam suspected.

"Yeah. I thought so. You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"No."

"I won't spoil your fun, Fi. Figure you're going to yell at him first. Am I right? Or am I right?"

Fiona smiled. "You know me so well."

"Well, he screwed up. You should yell at him."

She seemed mildly puzzled.

"About the business thing. Not the other thing," he said softly.

"And I just found my waist again."

Sam winked at her. "You should have thought about that earlier."

"I suppose. So tell me again, why aren't you married? Since you're so good at reading women's minds?"

Sam took a long sip of his beer. "It's sort of . . . a limited skill."

Jesse and Michael appeared in the doorway. "What's a limited skill?" Jesse asked.

"The masculine thought process or lack thereof." Fiona answered Jesse, but looked at Michael.

Jesse's mouth formed an O, and then curved into a small grin.

Sam set his half-full bottle on the counter, and motioned to Jesse. "Say goodnight, Jess."

"Goodnight Jess," Jesse mimicked but followed Sam toward the door.

"See you guys tomorrow," Sam said.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Michael said warily, as he followed and rearmed the alarm.

When he returned to the kitchen, Fi had her arms crossed and wore a familiar belligerent Irish attitude.

He closed his eyes. "The business thing. Right?"

"Right."

"It's been at the back of my mind since . . . well, since I figured out you were pregnant with the boys."

"That was a year ago."

Michael took a deep breath. "It was."

Fiona let the silence just sit there for a moment. "And tonight, to Jesse, not to me, is the first time you thought of . . . mentioning it?"

"I've been kinda busy, Fi," Michael said a bit more defensively than was wise. "No, I mean . . . "

"You haven't been busy since you came home. You've been resting and sleeping and napping and resting and sleeping."

Fiona crossed her arms and just looked at him.

After a long moment of silence, he leaned back against the door jamb and crossed his arms, too. They stood facing each other in silence, their poses mirroring each other.

A small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "You know. Silence can be used as a weapon."

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "de Gaulle said that. You've been arming yourself with it."

"Ouch." He grinned.

Because he'd said that ouch as if he didn't mean it, Fiona nearly lost her temper.

"You know all about using silence for your own purposes, Michael. It's what you've been doing since you came back. Let me know when you're ready to talk about . . . oh, what you're going to do next, or about that business you told Jesse about or whatever. We don't have to decide forever, but making plans for tomorrow or next week would be good." Fiona turned quickly and walked away.

He stopped her before she reached the bedroom door, held her rigid shoulders with gentle hands and talked to the back of her head.

"About the business thing, Fi. I'm sorry I said that to Jesse and not to you. I've been thinking about it for a long time. After we were married, I realized I didn't want my old life back, burn notice or not. How could I? But, there are only so many jobs for people who do what we do. Then when Max told me I was in trouble because I couldn't stay focused, I told him I needed to start a business like Spies Are Us. It was a joke, but later he said SAU was . . . come on, Fi. Don't be mad."

Fiona turned around and looked up into his face. "You couldn't stay focused? Why?"

"I don't know. I just couldn't. I kept thinking about you and-"

Fi put two fingers across his lips to silence him, then slid her hand up behind his head pulled his mouth down to hers. "That is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

She tugged him toward their bed, pulling at his clothing and hers, pushing him down, surprising him with a sudden, bold hunger.

He was unprepared for Fi's passionate demands, but not so unprepared that he couldn't return every single caressing touch, every single kiss with the same ferocity she doled out.

Her much smaller body overtook his, and her hands and mouth moved restlessly over him, teasing, pleasing without mercy. Under his sweet woman's ministrations, the grey dullness that had overtaken him fled, chased away by Fiona's loving generosities.

He was unable to combat the intoxicating jubilance of being made love to by this small, exquisite woman. She did not allow his attempts to slow down or be slowed down. Time lost meaning in the heat of her aggression, and minutes slid into hours as she tirelessly moved against him, needing him, welcoming him.

When at last they found a place of serenity in the aftermath of heat and passion, Michael was surprised by several things at once. The first was how much time had passed. The second was how heavy and utterly exhausted Fiona was as she lay on top of him. He gently eased her down and raised up on an elbow to look into her flushed face.

There was too much satisfied, masculine smugness in his grin. "I should have told you sooner I was having a hard time staying focused."

He leaned down and kissed the lovely, tender spot between her chin and her ear, and she shivered in response. "I should hit you with a pillow for that remark, but I'm too tired."

A small smile spread across her lips. She inhaled deeply then yawned. "Remind me to tell you why I'm so tired lately." And then she fell asleep, his utterly exhausted woman, his wife, his own living, breathing guardian angel and mother of his children. Who, apparently, was going to give him another child.

With Fiona peacefully sleeping and the thought of another child resting serenely in his heart, Michael realized he was finally home. And at peace. No wonder Fi had been irritated with him. He looked around to retrieve a pillow that had been lost in the tumult of union, then reached down to pull the sheet that they had kicked off the bed up and over them. There was only peace as they slept.

It was still dark when Michael woke unusually alert at the sound of a rainstorm. Fiona's head was on his chest. One of her arms curved around his waist, and her slender leg anchored one of his. He lay still, remembering and savoring each moment with Fiona before they'd fallen asleep.

Fiona stretched. "You're thinking too loud," she said as she kissed his chest and raised up to look at him and smooth her fingers over his whiskery face.

"Have you been to the doctor?"

Fiona rolled over to her back. "The day before you came home. So much for the theory that you can't get pregnant if you're nursing. And Michael, if you say you're sorry, I'm going to hit you."

He turned on his side to slide his arm around her. "I'm not sorry about that, but I am sorry about some other things, Fi."

"Like . . .?"

"Us. And how we got to be us. With kids. I've been thinking about how things work out. If I hadn't been burned, then you never would have come to Miami."

"I know." He heard the sadness in her voice.

"Where did you go when you left the beach house in Italy? We've never talked about that."

The thoughts of a business had been jumbling around in Michael's memory along with Max, and the morning after he and Fi were married. When Max had apologized about interrupting their honeymoon at the loft, Fi commented that they'd already had a honeymoon in Italy. He hadn't taken time to separate his tangled thoughts until now when everything seemed much clearer.

She sighed. "There are a lot of things we've never talked about."

"We have time now."

It took her a while to collect her thoughts. "I went home. On trains mostly. That gave me a lot of time to think about what I wanted. I didn't think I could deal with you leaving again, knowing you'd stand at the end of the bed and then disappear. We always managed to meet up again, but after Paris and Italy, I knew I couldn't do that again. It hurt too much when you left."

Michael lay back, crossed his arms behind his head. "Your mother wouldn't tell me where you went. I didn't know Sean then or I would have asked him."

Fiona was utterly surprised by that. "You went to Ireland?"

"You disappeared, Fi. I'd always been able to keep track of where you were. But after Italy, you did a great job of vanishing. No one knew anything, so I went to see your mother. She told me she didn't know where you'd gone but she knew wherever it was, you wanted to get away from me. I didn't know about the . . ."

Fiona sighed. "The miscarriage. That's why she was so angry. But Sean probably would have told you where I was. I'm sorry, Michael, I was wrong not to tell you-"

"Don't." He turned over and kissed her then. "I told you before, don't say that."

Fiona smoothed her hand over his stubbly cheek.

"Want to know something strange?" he asked as he caressed her arm and shoulder, smoothing his hand along her soft skin. "I hoped you would have got pregnant in Italy."

"I wanted the same thing."

"I couldn't get rid of your phone number."

"I kept that same number because of you. But you never called it."

"I might have been afraid to."

"We've done some really dumb things, Michael. But, there are some good things that happened because you got burned."

"I know, Fi. I know." He turned to kiss her.

And then the sweet, dark, rainy morning became even sweeter. Afterward, they were peacefully entwined with each other when the monitor revealed their sons had woken. Michael got up. "I'll take care of them while you get your shower, OK?"

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Sam arrived sometime around eleven.

He'd watched Fiona struggle during Michael's absence, though she never said a word of complaint to indicate she worried, or that there was anything difficult about taking care of twins.

She didn't have to. It was all over her face, like a lot of other things.

And Mike?

Sam could well remember coming off long missions during his SEAL days, looking and feeling the same as Mike. Exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. He suspected it was the latter that was causing the most trouble for him. Everything he'd been fighting was gone. At last. He knew he needed a chance to recover and get his feet back on the ground; Sam hoped that journey would be short.

Last night he'd been worried about the two of them. He was really hoping they'd put things to right after he and Jesse left.

He parked his car, climbed the steps and used the keypad to unlock the back door. When he walked into the kitchen, Fi was finishing some dishes and Michael was sitting at the table, looking through some papers.

Sam handed Michael an envelope addressed to him that Maddie had received. It was postmarked from Virginia.

He needed to assess the situation in the Westen household this morning. "OK, so we're all good here now, right?"

Fiona smiled. "Right."

He could see Mike smiling, but he never looked up. "Yes, we're good, Sam."

"Good is good. So, where my kids?"

Fiona dried her hands on a towel then turned to give Sam a kiss on his bewhiskered cheek. "Still sleeping. I think we're going to have to do away with the morning nap soon. Maybe they'll sleep through the nights that way."

"They slept through last night," Michael said.

"No they didn't."

Michael looked up quickly. "They didn't? Sorry, Fi."

"Don't worry. You'll have plenty of chances soon." Fiona looked over at Sam and smiled.

"So . . . ?" he asked the question without asking the question.

"So in another 22 weeks or more, you'll have another nephew, Sam."

Michael laughed then. "You've made up your mind already? What if it's a girl?"

"If we have a girl, that's great, but we're having another boy."

"You know they have tests for that, missy."

"She says no tests, so no tests," Michael said as he handed the letter Sam brought to Fiona.

"What's this?" She started reading and then walked over to the chair Michael had vacated and sat down. After a minute she looked up, her small face solemn.

"You've been cleared. You have your old job back." She looked back at the letter. "A burned spy no more."

"You didn't get to page two," Michael cheerfully pointed out.

Fiona flipped the page up. "Oh. You have your choice of assignments. That's wonderful, Michael."

"I already told Raines what jobs I want."

Sam snapped his fingers. "There's the monitor. I'll check the kids. You two be nice."

When he left the room, Fiona took a deep breath.

"Have you . . . what will you tell him?" she finally asked.

Michael closed the space between them and pulled her up to take her into his arms. "My choices for what I want to do now? Husband. Father. Consultant. Can you live with that?"

When Sam returned to the kitchen juggling a Westen boy in each arm, Michael and Fiona were wrapped in each other's arms.

"Aw come on, give the old guy a break and save that for later. We got some kids to feed here."