Less than 3 hours after I hung up with Tom, there was a knock at the hotel door. I popped out of bed quickly... eager to get answers if Tom had any... and well... I think he knows where Michael is, so, he has some answers. More answers than I had. I looked through the peephole and stopped breathing.
It looked... like Michael... just better. It wasn't fair. He looked better than ever. His once black hair was now a dark brown with slight highlights. He had lost his signature leather jacket and dark wash jeans and instead wore a tight fitting white tee and cargo pants. His pale white skin was now tanned with a slight burn on the tops of his cheeks. The sun had done wonders. It had lightened his hair, darkened his skin and brought out a slight dusting of freckles on his nose. I was staring through the hole.
"Fi?" He sensed my presence on the other side of the door.
"I'm not gonna let you in and heres why," I started.
He laughed out loud.
"I'm looking at you through this little hole."
He waited but I didn't continue. "Ok... So?" He looked at the peephole and I blushed even though he couldn't see me.
"You... are tan, now?"
"Uh... yeah." I was noting his American accent. Or I guess its just a lack of an irish accent. "I live in Florida."
"Oh. I see." I breathed. "You... are just normally tan?"
"Yeah. I had to avoid sunlight for like 3 months before I met you and that was the only reason I looked ghostly."
"I see."
"Do I get to know why you aren't letting me in? Are you just angry at my tan?"
I paused. "I... am not doing well."
"Yeah. Me either, Fi."
"You look better than ever so fuck you." He laughed.
"And I think American... the accent... or lack thereof... it suits you."
"Thank you." He waited. "Fi? Open the door, sweetie."
"Like I said... I'm not doing well. I have lost 10 lbs since you left. If you thought I was scrawny before... yeah... I don't look well."
He blinked and frowned at the peephole. "Please?"
"I haven't left the house in weeks. I look like a fucking ghost, Michael."
"Fiona, I understand that I left things pretty rough... turned your life on its ear. I get it. It isn't healthy for us to be apart, so let me in... and we... you know... won't be apart."
I thought about it and finally decided he'd seen me in too many states of undress and illness and injury for me to get shy now. I opened the door and sighed. "Hey."
He looked in physical pain. "Hi, Baby." The words didn't fit Michael McBride. The Irish criminal I'd fallen in love with. But the words fit this version of Michael. Baby wasn't anything I'd ever imagined being called. Pat called me angel. Sean called me sis. Michael McBride called me Fi. This man... called me baby. But I liked it. A lot.
"Hi..."
"Michael." He said. "If you call me McBride, I'll start breaking things."
"What's your real name?"
"Michael."
"Michael what?"
He paused. "My name is Michael Franklin Westen."
"You work for the CIA?" I went to sit at the tiny hotel table. He sat across from me.
He nodded a little.
"Tell me."
"Tom Card works for the CIA. He isn't coming. He will meet us in Miami. Tom... is my handler. I'm a spy."
I sniffed and frowned at the wall. "Wow. So, you are a traitor, then."
"I'm not Irish. I'm American, so technically... I'm not a traitor. I'm loyal to my country... but I'm sorry."
"Nope." I shook my head. "I'm sorry I didn't figure that shit out."
"I was sent to Ireland to stop the sale of explosives to Saudi Arabia. Tom had gotten information that you were making bombs and selling them to the Militia in Saudi Arabia and they were using them to blow up US camps."
"I was making bombs for-"
"The IRA. I know. We all know that now. I was sent to Dublin to befriend you and ultimately send you... probably to Guantanemo...? I don't know what they were gonna do with you. Anyway... I met you and was sure by the first night that our source had been wrong. as far as I was concerned, there was no way you'd knowingly sell anything to a Saudi Arabian Militia. I didn't think you even knew how to make a fucking bomb."
I laughed. "Oh god. I taught you how to make fake c4 to sell to people." I shook my head.
"I appreciated it. I'm gonna use that knowledge." He laughed. "By the way." He paused, leaning forward to slip hair behind my ear. "You... don't look ghostly... or sick... you look... absolutely breathtaking." He leaned back again and went on. "I told Tom we had bad intel and he told me that I was a softie. Said I was feeling bad for you. I had a crush on you." He shook his head. "He made so many jokes when you sent that text."
"What text?" I paused, staring into his eyes. "Oh... you got that."
"Yeah. My names not McBride, I'm not from Kilkenny and I don't have a wife." He smiled softly. "You scored One right out of three. Not too bad."
"You got the text and you..."
"I wasn't allowed to respond." He interrupted. "Sorry."
"I was in such a bad place, I don't even remember what I said."
"Sam isn't your type, by the way." He said. "And I'm not gonna tell him anyway, because he wouldn't turn you down and that frustrates me."
"Oh yeah." I remembered. "Who is he anyway?"
"When you met him, he was a Navy SEAL who I'd done a couple jobs with when I was a ranger. I ran into him on a job in Russia when I joined the agency. He was... a big help. He is more than a good guy. Sam Axe is a great friend. He actually just got honorably discharged for sleeping with his bosses wife and in doing that, revealing a traitor. After that, he couldn't really return to the SEALs, so they sent him to Miami with a 6 pack of Dos Equis and a government pension."
I stared at him for a moment. "Is that how you Americans behave?"
"What? The beer and pension? Its a weird circumstance. It doesn't happen so much I assume, but Sam did a lot for the government and when it came down to it, they asked what he wanted and he wanted Beer, Miami and an endless supply of little blue pills. So, thats what they gave him."
"No... I mean... Sleeping with your bosses wife. Is that how you Americans behave?"
"Oh..." He thought abouut it. "Uh... yeah... kinda... some of us."
"Us?"
"Them. Not necessarily me."
"You?"
"Sam." He stated. "But he didn't know she was his bosses wife. He just slept with some lady who happened to be unfaithful."
I nodded. "Sam is my best friend."
I nodded again.
"He had no idea I was in Ireland. He was as shocked as I was when he saw me."
"He cost me $20,000."
"He's sorry."
"Is he though?"
He didn;t hesitate. "My second favorite person on the planet." I noted that his hair had grown out. In Ireland, he didn't let his hair grow longer than a buzz but he had a full head, parted down the side and slicked down. It was sexy. Everything about this Michael was sexy.
"What?" He noticed me checking him out.
"I never thought I would like you in... cargo pants..."
"And?" I shook my head. "I... do... like them... on you... enough to want them off of you, at least."
He smirked. "They are... constricting... but we have explaining to do."
"One of us does." I sneered.
"Tom said to find out who was making and selling bombs. I stayed because I knew it was you who was making bombs. I didn't tell Tom because I knew you weren't selling the bombs. I didn't know who was selling them, but I knew it wasn't you. I was given orders to leave and they would send me back when they could get more intel. I said no. They pulled the lease on the apartment in Dublin... so I rented one in Belfast. I was gonna have you move in with me and I was gonna tell you, honestly... but then intel came in." He breathed. "They thought it was Sean."
"He'd never." I was shocked.
"I know that too. But they were sure it was him, so I was left to wonder if you would take his side or mine. I was worried if I told you who I was, it would be a conflict of interest, so I waited some more. I thought when we took him down, I could tell you, because I knew you were a good person and you would protect Sean right up until you found out he was blowing up thousands of innocents. I was afraid that you'd leave if I took part in arresting him, though." He shook his head again and I finally noticed the tears in his eyes. "I... was so stuck. It was so scary."
I moved my chair closer to his placed a hand on his.
"You were... my whole world and you still are. It's just so devastingly harsh that it had to be this way. I wanted to tell you, Fi. I swear."
"I understand, Michael." I ran my fingers through his hair to soothe the turmoil out of his eyes.
"Anyway. It was almost over. I got word that it wasn't Sean but they had sorted it out. I guess the man responsible had been blown up in Serbia so he was no longer a threat. I was waiting for word that I could tell you. I sat up all night, waiting for Tom to call and say the coast was clear."
"That was 2 nights before..."
"Yeah. that was the night you woke up and I was in the livingroom, Staring at my phone. Well, he never called that night or the next day. I heard the next night that he had an associate who was his partner who was still in Ireland and we needed to neutralize him. I went out one night with a sniper in hopes I could end it."
"That was when I locked myself out?"
"Yes." He sighed.
I stood up and sat in his lap, trying to calm him.
It worked well because he visably relaxed after inhaling at my neck. "You locked yourself out, so I had to wait one more night. I was so ready to finish it and tell you everything. I wanted you to move in with me. At my real home... in Miami."
"Sunshine." I commented.
"Right... Sunshine." He looked destroyed. "I got the call 3 hours after we fell asleep that someone had outed me as an American spy and I needed to either kill him or be killed. So, I had to leave. They sent a SWAT team to kill the Traitor and I was sent home, told well done. You did it."
"I thought you didn't want me anymore."
"I could never... ever stop wanting you Fi." He ran his shaking hands up and down my sides. "I love you."
"Yeah. I love you too and thats whats crazy."
He laughed and buried his face in my hair.
I settled into the shower and felt the weight of the evening evaporate. I already felt about a thousand times better after having Michael back and having answers. I couldn't really think of any inconsistancies in his story. That led me to believe him because with a story that immaculate, I had expected at least one inconsistancy. I was waiting for it to not add up so I could have peace with the idea that Michael was and is a liar. From the start, he lied. He wasn't lying now though. I knew it.
I lathered my hair in shampoo and heard Michael talk to Tom Card in hushed tones. It wasn't that he didn't want me to hear. I think it was more he didn't want any other hotel guests to hear. I washed the shampoo out and continued with conditioner. The cheap conditioner from the hotel smelled like prison soap and I squinted at the fragrance of the body wash. "This shit reaks." I said, sure that Michael was listening. He was careful to check the hotel room and clear the bathroom before he'd let me shower. He made me leave the door open slightly in case I needed him.
I wasn't gonna argue that, but he still insisted with the fact that it was nothing he hadn't seen. That was true... sort of... McBride knew my body better than I knew it myself. He had seen and kissed and touched and licked every inch of me. But this Michael felt different. I blushed in his presence even when I was completely dressed. I felt shy. He seemed confident in a different way than McBride had been. McBride was childlike in his reckless confidence. This Michael was sure. He was professional. He was confident not because he was reckless, he was confident because of his abilities. I wanted him to look at me and want me... and I thought he did... but it wasn't like McBride wanting me. He looked at me like I was a little girl. And he called me baby, I realized.
"Michael?"
"Hold on, Tom." He said as he entered the bathroom with a hand over his eyes. "Is it safe?"
I didn't repond to that question. "How old are you?"
He laughed. "Figured that one out, did you?"
"Michael." I said.
"I'll call you back, Tom." He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, his right hand still covering his eyes.
"Why are you covering your eyes?"
"I... I..." He huffed. "I can't decide which question to answer."
I didn't help.
"I'm 30." He stated.
I breathed out. "Your reaction to the question had me thinking it would be 40s." I laughed. "30 isn't that far off from what you told me."
"I'm a 30 yr old American spy, Fi. You are a 23 year old irish bomb maker."
"I thought you were a 23 year old irish criminal."
"Yeah."
"That is actually... that adds up, I guess."
"How so?"
"Oh, God! Michael, put your hand down, this is so weird."
He lowered his hand and sighed, checking me out quickly and discreetly. "Sorry. Go on."
"I just had always thought that you... were child like."
"I worked really hard to seem that way."
"When we fought, you seemed... like an adult. Like you were my boss, chastising me or something."
"Yeah, well, when we fought, I was... me." He said. "Less fun."
"Less... young and care free."
I nodded.
"Another thing is that the last month has aged me significantly. Not seeing you every day... Tom said I have wrinkles." He smiled.
"Yeah, I could see that." I agreed, leaning out of the shower to see the frown lines forming. "You look young, Michael. Don't worry so much."
He grabbed my soaking wet breast as it was still out of the shower. "I feel... young."
"Is that right, Michael?" I grabbed his shirt, soaking it.
"You can still call me daddy, though."
I smirked. "Well, then you look good... Daddy." He responded by widening his eyes and pulling me out of the shower.
I reached back and turned off the water and jumped, landing with me legs wrapped around him. He kissed me hard, walking confidently to the bedroom. My hair soaked the bed as he threw me down, making a place between my legs. I grabbed him by his hair. "Please." I begged as he remained just a breath away from my skin. "I love you, Fi."
He stood to rip his clothes off and I noted the difference in his body too. The slight tan lines forming at his waist and the rough patches on his hands from working. He was bulkier... in a good way. Great way really. The weight that I'd lost, he had gained in muscle, lifting weights from the frustration of leaving me, he had told me. It showed. He was always strong, but McBride was strong in a way that a young college athlete was strong. Strong and slightly gangly... like he didn't know how to act in his own body. Michael was strong in the way that he belonged in this body. I sighed. "God." I breathed. "Daddy indeed."
He smiled. "I love you, Fi." He repeated.
"I love you too." I whispered. And I meant it.
"Good."