Out of the Ashes:
A/N: Thank you as always Amanda Hawthorn and Daisy Day for reading through the beginning of this chapter. Also thank you to all those people who have reviewed, and added the story to your favourites.
Chapter Thirty Six,
"So where's my eldest Son? Where's Michael?"
Madeline had long ago got over the surprise of finding Michael's friends wounded, or otherwise breaking into her home in the middle of the night. But when one turned up alone dripping blood over her kitchen floor, it made her worry about what had happened the others.
Sam took another sip of his beer, using the time to think of a reasonable answer. He had faced trained interrogators in unfriendly countries with less fear than he faced Madeline Westen. The woman could have had a great career in counter intelligence.
"Oh he's off doing something for the government. You know what he's like, all hush hush spy stuff." He hoped sounding casual would be enough to distract her, but just in case he added. "So Nate, and Ruth are going to be living in Miami. I bet you're pleased about that?... I mean you'll get to see the grandkid regular." He added nervously.
Madeline drew in a lungful of smoke, then slowly exhaled staring at him through the smoky haze. After a moment Sam broke the stare unable to take the accusing look any longer.
"So, government work huh? And what happened to you?" She asked flatly, examining the torn stitches in his arm.
"Oh this? It was just a misunderstanding, all sorted out now." He then realized he was going to have to tell her more if he was going to get a place to stay. "Well, mostly sorted out. I could do with a place to lay low, you know stay out of sight for a few days."
She finished bandaging his arm, finishing off by narrowly missing spearing him with a safety pin. "Ten days ago Michael shipped me off to Las Vegas." Madeline told him. "And at that time you, and Fiona were missing." She was inches off his face now blowing smoke directly into his eyes and nose.
Blinking and trying not to cough, Sam tried to back away but he was pinned in the chair. "Yeah well we're all fine now, no problems. In fact Fiona has gone on vacation for a few days while Mikey's away, and well, I just took on this little job to keep me busy." His words faded off.
She continued to glare at him, then aimed the lighted end of the cigarette straight at his face. "If I find out you're lying to me Sam Axe, I swear I'll stub one of these out in your eye." To make her point she ground the cigarette into the ashtray beside him. At no point did she break eye contact.
Sam gulped. "Maddy, honestly you know as much as me about what's happening. When Michael gets back you can ask him about it."
It was obvious she didn't believe him, but with a huff she turned away. "Stay in the spare bedroom. Lock up before you go to bed, and don't drink all my beer." Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her.
Sam leaned back in his chair thinking to himself. Well that went better than I thought it would.
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Michael opened his eyes, staring up at the fanlight which gently turned above his head. The room was still bathed in darkness, he glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. It was just after five am, instinctively he reached out for Fiona. Instead of finding the warm soft flesh he craved to touch, his hand fell onto the cold mattress. Shuffling onto his side, he looked across to where she lay wrapped in most of the covers. She had let him into her bed the night before, but had made it very clear being allowed into the bed did not mean back into her good graces. After a chaste kiss to his cheek she had turned her back on him and fallen asleep.
Carefully he reached over to run his fingers through her hair. Just knowing she was there had a calming effect on him. Knowing that she was slowly thawing towards him gave him hope he could make the situation better. He thought about snuggling up against her, like he was used to doing. He yearned to be cocooned in her arms breathing in her scent. He moved a little closer, then stopped himself. Sneaking up on her while she slept was never a good idea, and it definitely would not help him build up the trust he had lost. Sighing he rolled out of the bed, and went to the bathroom. When he came out he noticed the covers had slipped off her upper body. Before leaving the bedroom he gently pulled the sheet over her body, doing his best not to disturb her sleep.
Ten minutes later he was standing outside watching the sunrise over the ocean. As he began to stretch his limbs he couldn't take his eyes off the light show taking place on the horizon, the sky and sea coming to life in a brilliant display of blues, purples and pinks. Tearing his eyes away from the stunning sunrise Michael began to jog away from the cottage and up onto the trail.
Once off the sand and onto the dirt track, Michael increased his speed. At the moment the air felt fresh and cool, but he knew in another hour as the sun rose higher in the sky the whole area would become hot, damp and humid. He kept up a steady pace, not even breaking stride when he came across natural obstacles. Easily clearing fallen branches or patches of mud. Apart from the the sound of his steady breathing, and his footfalls on the dirt track the only other noise came from the waking birds and the buzz of the insects.
He rounded a corner, and saw the obstacle course in the distance, the tall 'A' frame made of wooden supports and thick ropes standing out clearly in amongst the long grass and shrubs. He decided at that moment he needed more than just a run to clear his head, he needed a bit of challenge. It had been years since he had run one of these courses. Leaving the trail he cut straight through the trees and tangled undergrowth to the reach the obstacle course.
Nearing the start line he slowed, and caught his breath. It was then he heard the crack of a foot on a twig, and turned to see Fiona dressed in lycra shorts and a sports bra, her face flushed from the run. He couldn't stop his eyes focusing at where a line of sweat ran down the front of her top disappearing between her breasts.
"Fi?" He queried, as she ran passed him.
"Come on then." She called back, as she vaulted over a five foot high wooden wall with the grace of a gymnast.
Grinning with the thought of a competition Michael gave chase. Easily catching up with her, they kept pace with each other over, under or through each obstacle in their path. Until they reached the 'A' frame, half way up Michael began to pull ahead.
"Tired Fi?" He looked down at her a smirk on his face.
Fiona didn't answer immediately, that self satisfied smirk was really a step too far. She stretched up wrapping her hand around the ankle of Michael's boot, and forced his leg through the ropes. Then, as he leaned down to free himself she climbed passed treading on his fingers on the way to the top.
"You should watch your footing Michael." She sang out as she started down the other side.
She was waiting for him at the finishing line, her arms crossed over her chest, and grin spread over her face.
"A little slow there Michael." She slipped her arms around one of his, hanging on his bicep. "Maybe you need to up your cardio vascular workout."
"You cheated." He replied, pulling her fully against his body. "Do you want to go again?"
She looked up at him breathing deeply her lips slightly parted. "No. I want breakfast. Come on." She started dragging him back towards the cottage.
She had woken as soon as Michael had reached across to run his fingers through her hair, and it had taken all her self control at that moment not to turn over and invite him into her arms. Yesterday had been a reminder of what they had lost. An ability to enjoy life, of taking whatever little bit of pleasure they could get, and making the most of it. But with all the stress and strain they had faced in the last few months they had lost that spark.
When he had disappeared outside she had followed him just for the hell of it, wondering how far he would go, how fast he would run to escape whatever demon had woken him from his sleep. Now as they walked back to the cottage she knew he was tiring, his steps slowing. They were still hand in hand as they entered the cottage.
"Do you want to shower first?" He offered placing a kiss on her forehead. They were both covered in a mixture of sweat, and mud.
"No you go." Fiona replied, stroking a thumb over his stubble covered cheek. She watched him walk into the bedroom stripping off the green t shirt he had been wearing. Watching the play of his muscles in his back, and shoulders.
Stepping under the warm spray of water, Michael sighed, and began to soap away all the debris picked up on the assault course. Whatever else he thought about Raines, his old boss was right about this, he needed a chance to recharge. He had been surviving on adrenaline, and stress to the point where he was close to breaking down completely. Now he was just weary, his mind, and body demanding rest.
A shift in the curtain behind him, caused him to turn his head as Fiona joined him. Her hands gently massaging the tension out of his shoulders, and then down his back. As her hands massaged and rubbed his lower back he turned to face her, surprised at this sudden change in her actions.
"Fi?" He asked, one of his hands on her waist, while the other cupped her cheek tenderly.
"Sorry, but I couldn't wait." Her fingers played softly on his chest making patterns in the soap that was running off his body.
He sucked in a breath, his eyes darkening as he surveyed her naked body. "Are you sure?" His voice was husky, his arm tightened around her waist, and he dipped his head down drawing her into a kiss.
"Positive." She growled back, pushing him under the water, and against the wall as she lay kisses across his chest, and under his chin.
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Michael walked out of the bedroom, towelling his hair dry, his eyes fixed on Fiona's tiny figure as she finished making a pot of tea.
"I thought you were going to rest?" She commented, noticing that he must have picked up some shorts while they were in the compound the day before.
"I can rest outside with you." He replied coming to stand behind her, his arms making their way around her waist as he nibbled on her ear.
"Ok, you take these out." She slipped from his embrace and handed him the two cups of tea she had just finished making. "I'll find us something to eat."
Outside she joined him on one of the sun loungers climbing on to lay next to him, wriggling until he lifted his arm so she could snuggle against him with her head on his shoulder. She dropped a bowl onto his lap filled with a variety of fruit. For a short while they lay without talking, just sipping their tea, and picking at the fruit.
"So how about a visit to the gun range today." Fiona broke the silence stretching over him, to put her empty cup back on the table. "It's been days since I shot at anything."
"Kay." He agreed, his fingers playing idly with her hair. "But aren't you taking another class today?" He grinned, remembering the rapt attention the recruits had given her the day before.
"Yes making a IED out of common chemicals found in the kitchen." She grinned back at him. "Do you remember the first time I showed you how to do that?"
He showed a full row of teeth. "Yes, but if you remember I improved on your design."
She dug her elbow into his side causing him to grunt, and the fruit bowl to jump. "Anybody ever tell you, you're a sore loser Glenanne?" He drew her even closer, and kissed her cheek.
"Don't you know, I never lose. I just occasionally let you think you've won that's all." She snatched a kiss, catching his lower lip between her own.
"You cheated." He told her, snatching the grape from between her fingers.
"It's not my fault you weren't paying attention." Sitting up she shuffled back. "I'm going to go for a swim. You look like you need a sleep." It was true, he looked happy and relaxed, but tired. The fact he didn't argue when she got to her feet told her she was right.
She left him to snooze on the sun lounger while she ran towards the water and a refreshing swim. When she came back and after rubbing herself dry with a towel she joined him again.
"I think I could get used to this." He sighed, moving over to make room for her.
She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in a question.
"I mean it. My money is no longer frozen any more. Just laying around relaxing nobody trying to kill me, or blackmailing me into doing black ops. It's nice." He explained.
"And you would be climbing the walls within a week." She scoffed.
"Not if you there with me." He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger.
"If I was there with you. We'd be trying to kill each other within two weeks. Besides this, what we're doing now is because the man who wants you to run black ops. Wants you here." She answered.
He didn't answer, she was right of course. After a while she turned on her side, draping a leg over the top of his. "It's nice to know you're thinking about a future for us together." She began to draw circles over his chest with her fingers.
He looked down at her, his fingers skimming across the exposed flesh of her back, his eyes studying her face. He looked nervous. "I can't imagine a future without you." He told her quietly.
She sucked in a breath at his words, this more than the desperate needy, and clingy endearments she had grown used to. When she didn't answer him immediately he looked even more nervous.
"I mean it Fiona, I may have trouble showing you, how much you mean to me. But, I need you."
"You have me." She eventually replied. "You always have, you've just been too pig headed to realize it." She soothed his hair back away from his face, it only struck her now how long it was getting. Lifting the strands between her fingers she studied his face from different angles. "You need a hair cut." She informed him.
"When we get back."
He took her hands into his and moved on the lounger so they lay face to face, his mouth closing over hers in a long kiss.
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Special agent Kim Pearce looked up, at the sound of a knock on her office door. "Yes?" She snapped.
It had taken her a full day to track down Michael Westen's whereabouts, only to be told he was being held at training camp, and could not be brought back to Miami without clearance from Director Raines. She had spent the last hour of her day trying to get to speak to the director, or one of his personal assistants. All to no avail the words of his secretary still rang in her ears. "Director Raines is in meetings all week. If you put your request in writing I'm sure you will get a reply in due course."
The door opened and one of her subordinate agents stuck his head inside. "You have a visitor ma'am. A Mrs Shepherd."
Pearce sucked in a breath, wondering what on earth would bring this particular woman into a CIA field office, especially the Miami field office.
"It's ok Charles, send her in." Pearce was on her feet, a welcoming smile in place as her guest entered.
"Kim." The woman was slim, dressed in pale blue linen pants and a cream coloured sleeveless blouse. Short curly brown hair, topped a usually open friendly face. Today though large dark glasses covered her blue eyes and a large part of her features.
"Melissa what are you doing here? If there was something you needed you should have rung." Pearce spoke her voice full of concern. She pointed to a chair. "Please sit down."
"I wanted to see you, I – I was going through Max's things and..." She lifted her dark glasses and wiped her eyes. She reached into her handbag. "I have something for you."
"You don't have to do this now. You should be with your family, with Josh." Pearce spoke kindly, handing Max's widow a tissue.
Melissa shook her head, and brought a flash drive from inside her bag. "I found this amongst Max's things." She sniffed. "I'm sorry, I took a look at it I didn't know what it was." She paused. "I think it's what he was working on before he was killed." She took a moment to pull herself together. "When you look at it you'll see why I've brought it to you personally."
Pearce took the drive, and placed it down on her desk. Max's death had been hard on the young woman sat before her. They had only had their first child three months earlier, Max had been working domestic cases so he could stay close to home. Doing the type of work that allowed him to go home on a regular basis, and supposedly stay out of danger.
"Thank you, where are you staying?" Max's funereal was in two days time, she should have been at home in Langley. Not in Miami, dealing with emptying Max's rented apartment.
"I'm here with my mom, we've been clearing his apartment in Miami before heading back home tonight. Josh is with Max's parents." She was glancing around Kim Pearce's office, thinking how much it reminded her of Max's at Langley. "I should go." She got to her feet. "That drive. Don't look at it here. Take it home, and don't tell anybody else about it unless you're sure you can trust them."
"I'll look at it as soon as I get home." Pearce promised as they left the office, walking back to the elevator. "Melissa I promise you I'll find Max's killer, and bring whoever it is to justice."
"Just be careful. I think what I saw on that drive is what got Max killed." Melissa warned, as the doors slid open and she stepped inside.
Pearce stared at the elevator doors, thinking about Melissa's warning. The younger woman had worked for military intelligence before she married Max. If what she had found caused her to give out such a strong warning, she was going to pay attention.
()
Pearce had rented a tenth floor beach front apartment, it was at the top end of her budget, even allowing for the housing allowance she received from the CIA. But she rarely went out, instead preferring to spend her time with her dog. Letting herself inside she was greeted by scrabbling paws, and wagging tail of her hyperactive pitbull bitch Sadie. "Hey girl." She bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Are you all alone?" A quick walk around the apartment assured Pearce she was alone, not that she thought Sadie would let anyone break in, and remain in one piece.
Slipping off her shoes she took the drive out of her pocket and plugged it into her laptop. Then after switching on her I pod filling the room with the mellow tones of contemporary jazz, she went searching through the kitchen for the bottle of red wine she had bought when she first arrived in Miami. Once she was settled down on the couch, with Sadie curled up at her side and a glass of wine in her hand she began to look at the evidence Melissa had handed over.
Two hours later she was still staring at the screen. So much of what she was looking at was circumstantial, but there was no arguing that Max had been murdered just after he had started his investigation. She tried think of what she knew about Donald Raines, surely if he was part of the conspiracy he would have done his best to protect the other members. Not allowed them to be swept up by the FBI, and CIA.
Swirling the dregs of wine left in her glass, she wondered how she might get hold of Donald Raines phone records, without his knowledge. It would not be easy, Max had made the mistake of using CIA computers. In the end she switched off the laptop, and got another glass of wine. One thing was clear she needed to talk to Michael Westen, there had to be a reason for Raines hiding him away in Costa Rica. Tomorrow she would demand Westen was returned from the training camp he was being held in. She would argue he was a person of interest in her investigation, and she needed to ask him some questions.
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"So you killed Sam Axe?" Anson was sat at a table in the busy Sunrise bar and grill looking over Lummus park.
Martin, Sam's 'ex-best friend' sat facing the older, and far weaker man. He felt confident in his answer, and in his ability to protect himself if he was wrong. "He was down, buried under a pile of scaffolding poles when I blew the place." He answered.
Anson smiled grimly. "Really, so the merchandise getting picked up by the ATF before it reached international waters wasn't your fault?"
"How could it be? It must have been somebody on the boat." Martin hissed. Well aware they were in a crowded place.
"Maybe because the call mentioned a cell phone Gps which had been dropped in with the goods. The Gps from a phone belonging to Sam Axe."
Martin paled at the words. "It's not my fault." He muttered.
Anson smiled. "No, of course not." He held out a hand. "No hard feelings." As Martin shook his hand, Anson produced a small syringe in the other hand. Martin barely felt a scratch.
Two minutes after Anson walked away, Martin started to have trouble breathing. He clutched at his chest and then before help could arrive died slumped over the table.
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