A/N: This is the second part of the 6.01 premiere AU that was originally posted as Chapter 5 in "Puppies, Kittens and Gun Toting Babies."
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6.01 AU – This is My Island in the Sun - Part 2
An alternate for Season Six and beyond following on from 5.16 – Depth Perception
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Miami 2012
Sam Axe woke up with a start as the trunk of the Charger suddenly slammed shut with a loud thud and then, while he was still pulling himself together, the driver's side door swung open and a stony-faced spy slumped down behind the wheel.
"Hey, Mikey, I was beginning to think you'd dumped me and sneaked outta the back door." His light-hearted comment was greeted by a thinning of Michael's lips and a scowl.
"So, what did the boss lady have to say? I mean, you've been gone forever, brother."
"She's willing to help." Michael answered flatly as he started up the muscle car. "I've just spent the last three hours going through everything we know about Anson Fullerton." He didn't mention the part where Agent Pearce had torn into him for all the lies he'd told before finally calming down and agreeing to assist them. "She cleared us going to Tampa to check out the warehouse while she investigates the DC lawyers." He cast a glance over to his friend. "She's also gonna put a surveillance detail on Anson, so we'll know where he is and what he's up to."
"You sure that's a good idea? I mean, he's a sneaky sonuvabitch. If he realizes he's being watched..."
"That's what I said," Michael huffed. "But she insisted. She promised they'll stay back and watch from a distance... Pearce said she wants to know where he is at all times, so as soon as we have something to pin on him, she can bring him in."
"Hey, that's great, isn't it?" Sam aimed to point out the positive, but Michael was no longer listening to him.
The grieving spy drove as if he had nothing to lose, speeding through the mid-day Miami traffic and out onto the I-75 heading north and eventually west towards Tampa. Soon enough they were on that stretch of road which cut through the northern end of the Everglades better known as Alligator Alley. For a while, Sam tried to draw his friend into talking about what Agent Pearce had had to say during their meeting, but all he got in return for his questions was a scowl and the sound of the Charger's engine increasing in speed. Finally, he took the hint and stopped talking.
Sam wasn't too worried by the spy's taciturnity. He knew exactly how Michael's mind worked and knew that, for the time being. the younger man wasn't prepared to listen to anything he had to say, so he settled down to wait.
The long boring drive to Tampa under normal circumstance could take anywhere between four and a half to five hours depending on the traffic ahead. That was plenty of time to work on getting Michael's head back in the game. However, as they began to flash by more and more vehicles, it was becoming clear to Sam that his friend was shooting to half the travel time and, if he didn't say something soon, they would be very lucky not to attract the attention of a deputy sheriff or even worse the FHP.
"Something up, Mike?" Sam sat upright in his seat and for the first time clipped his seatbelt on.
"Yeah, I think we've picked up tail... Three cars back, a blue Taurus with tinted glass. It's keeping at least two vehicles between us at all times, but whatever I do it stays there."
Sam twisted around and peered back. The car following them looked pretty nondescript and traffic along this part of the road was usually thin, making the tail stand out more readily now that Michael had pointed it out. It was easy to see as the Charger changed lanes or altered its speed that the Taurus stayed with them, though never getting close enough for them to get a good look at the driver.
"Maybe Pearce has somebody keeping an eye on us?" Sam suggested doubtfully.
"Yeah and maybe Anson knows Fiona is - gone and he's watching to see what I do," Michael countered.
"So, what are we gonna to do?"
Michael took a moment to think and then all of a sudden eased his foot back off the gas pedal. "We're coming up on the exit for Naples. I'll pull off and see if I can lose them."
Sam took a long look at his friend's profile, seeing the tension in Michael's jaw as he glanced into his rearview mirror at the car following behind them.
"And if we can't? What are you thinking about here, Mike?"
"Don't worry about it, Sam... Get Pearce on the line and find out if she sent a babysitter to watch over us."
While Sam called Agent Pearce, Michael began to drive like an idiot: indicating left and then turning right, taking too long at junctions and then suddenly pulling out into the smallest of gaps, slowing down at traffic lights only to speed through at the last minute, using every trick he could think off to shake off the blue sedan.
"Well, she says whoever they are, they're not CIA... Oh, and Anson has been chairing a department meeting since nine o clock this morning, so it's doubtful he's involved. We need to do something fast here, Mike. I'm a little thin on cop buddies on this coast. If we get pulled over…"
"Okay then." Michael suddenly slammed on the brakes, bringing the Charger to a sharp stop. Grabbing his gun, he was out of the vehicle before Sam had a chance to react.
"Jeez, Mike, gimme a warning next time." He struggled to unclip the seatbelt and at the same time draw his own gun before following his friend into the open.
They watched as the Taurus came to a halt and then rapidly reverse back before performing a handbrake turn and driving away.
"So, what now?" Sam asked, slipping his gun back into his waistband.
Michael continued to stare after the car, his eyes fixed on the path it had taken.
"Mike?" Sam called out. "Hey, buddy? "
The younger man startled, but instantly composed himself. "Sam, did you see...?" He shook his head in disbelief. "It doesn't matter... Let's get going."
Back in the car, Michael drove around Naples for another twenty minutes just to make sure whoever had been following them was gone and hadn't been replaced by someone else.
Meanwhile, Sam stared out of his window, watching the store fronts and houses as they passed by. He had seen the driver of the Taurus just as well as Michael had, a female shape with long hair, her features obscured by the tint of the wind shield and, just like Michael, he had spotted the similarities to a certain little psychotic former IRA terrorist.
What the hell was she doing? Sam thought furiously about Michael's supposedly dead girlfriend. If anybody spotted her... It would be bad enough if Mike got a clear look, but what if Anson discovered the truth? Or Dani? If Dani thought for one minute Mike was playing her again... Dammit, Tinkerbell!
It was only when Michael brought the Charger to a stop and switched off the engine that Sam was jerked out of his reverie and realized he had been lost in his thoughts for the last two hours.
"You have a good nap there, Sam?" Michael groused.
"Yeah, I did. Thanks for askin', Mikey." he grinned back, thankful that his friend hadn't realized the real reason for his inattention.
Going around to the trunk, Sam looked on with interest as Michael brought out a large case. "So what have you got here?"
"Pearce thought we could use some CIA toys. We've got tasers, a thermal camera, a circular saw fitted with a state of the art silencer and a copy of the blue prints of the building."
Sam leaned in and pulled out two large rolls of climbing rope. "And these?"
"I was planning on mentioning that. Going off the blue prints, the walls have been reinforced with steel, so the best way in looks to be through the roof."
Sam sighed, "Great…So, we're gonna climb up on top, without being seen, and then what? Cut a hole in the ceiling and drop in?"
"That's about it, Sam. Unless you want to wait outside while I deal with any of Anson's guys waiting inside."
Sam caught the hopeful note in his friend's voice and shook his head. "Nope, Mike, I'm going in with you, buddy." He pointed to the notes written down on the edge of the blueprints. "See this? Didn't think I'd bother reading all those little scribbles, did ya? The place was used by its previous owner for storing military tech, weapons and high explosives. If Anson's using it to store his artillery, I'm not about to let you go in there all by yourself with guns blazing, Forget it, brother."
They spent the next few hours watching the warehouse from a distance, but learning little more than what they already knew. The place remained quiet with nobody coming or going. From the outside to the untrained eye, the building looked abandoned. The cracked and crumbling outer walls were covered by faded graffiti and the land surrounding the property was overgrown and unkempt. But what gave it away was the shiny new chain link fence topped with razor wire and, when they used a set of binoculars, it was possible to make out a brand new keypad lock on the reinforced steel doors.
Michael, looked at his watch and then at the darkening sky before answering stiffly. "We'll go in after dark. You can give me a boost onto the roof and then I'll tie off a rope so you can climb up."
"Oh, we just go in. It's gonna be that easy, huh?"
"No, Sam, it's not. What I'd like to do is smash through the gates and storm the place. But I can't do that, can I? Because it all has to be legal or Pearce will just throw my ass in jail along with Anson's," came the bitter retort.
Sam put a hand to his mouth to disguise how secretly pleased he was. Not only was Dani Pearce doing what he had hoped she would by putting Michael on a short leash, but at least for now his friend wasn't fighting against the restrictions placed on him.
"Hey, look, I know it's not the same as busting down the doors, but the thermal imaging camera will help us see who's in there and how many. And this way you'll have someone alive at the end to question," Sam pointed out, trying to brighten the mood.
It was a starless, pitch black night and as silent as the grave when they cut a hole in the chain link fence and moved swiftly towards the building with Sam following in Michael's stealthy footsteps. A quick check around the outside of the warehouse and then, with a boost to get him as high as possible, Michael managed to find a couple of hand holds and haul himself onto the roof.
Tying off one of the lengths of rope, he kept watch while Sam scaled the side of the worn looking structure, carrying the case of equipment on his back.
Then, using the thermal camera, Michael slowly walked around the roof, making sure he knew who was inside the building and where they were.
"There's a single man inside." Michael kept his voice low. "He's sitting at the far end, watching TV." He pointed to a space about ten feet away from where the guard was relaxing. "There's a solid wall, here. We breech on the other side, we should be in and on him before he knows what hit him."
Sam nodded and brought out the circular saw. "Okey, dokey, you keep an eye on the guard while I make the hole."
The saw made quick work of the roof and the two men dropped through the hole silently. Moving like the skilled, experienced team they were, they quickly made their way over to the door which separated them from the guard, who was too busy watching TV to be doing his job properly.
After making sure the door wasn't alarmed in any way, Michael went through fast with the taser at the ready. By the time Sam joined his friend, the guard was laying on the floor convulsing.
"Well, that went well," the former SEAL commented, as he leaned down to remove the prongs stuck into their prisoner's shirt and secure the man's hands behind his back. "Easy peasy, huh?"
"Sure, Sam, help me get this guy up and I'll find out what he knows while you take a look round."
Sam paused, studying the spy's cool emotionless expression. "Okay, but remember Pearce is going to want him in one piece."
Leaving Michael to find out how much the security guard knew about his employer and what he was guarding, Sam set off to have a look around. Within half an hour he was back, barely able to believe Anson had been so lax.
"Hey, Mikey. look at this." He was dragging a trolley overloaded with samples of the goods being stored. "We have C4, T4, det cord, timer switches, nine milimeter rounds, fifty cal cartridges... You realize if any of this matches what was used in the bombing of the consulate, Fi'll will be in the clear."
"Woulda been in the clear, Sam," Michael corrected him, his face a mask of sorrow. He held out a pile of documents. "Here's a list of everything that Anson has in here and the names of the shipping companies and the bank accounts he's been using."
"Alrighty then," Sam beamed. "Let's gather up as much as we can and get out of here. I'll call Pearce and she can send a team to clear the rest of this stuff up." He added the documents to the top of the stacked up boxes on the trolley. "
"What about me?" The security guard piped up. "I answered all your questions. You've gotta let me go."
"You're gonna be spending a lotta time answering somebody else's questions," the older man informed him. "That is unless of course you wanna be dropped in some deep dark hole and never be heard from again."
The guy paled and shook his head. "I can't go with you. Anson is crazy, he'll kill me. Hell, if he finds out you've been here, he'll kill you, too. The guy is a class A paranoid. He made it very clear if I ever let anybody in, or try to take anything outta here, even so much as a paper clip, I'm a dead man."
"You don't have a choice." The dark haired man pointed his gun in the guy's face, pressing the end of the barrel in between his eyes.
"Look, fella, I don't want to shoot ya -" Sam came over and gently pushed Michael's hand down until the barrel was pointed at the floor. "But this man here does, so it's in your best interests to do exactly what he says."
"You don't understand, Anson is tracking this stuff. As soon as your guys start taking it out, he'll know."
"Sam, what do you think?"
"Well, you can stick trackers on anything nowadays, so it sounds like a play Anson would make and it explains the lack of security." He gave the guard a knowing look. "But we can't leave it all behind and we can't hang around here all night waiting for a team to get here. So I say we take our chances, Pearce has a detail watching Anson. If he tries anything, he'll get picked up quick enough." Sam shrugged and pushed the trolley towards the doors.
"Wait," Michael called out. "Let's not take any chances. We'll take all the paperwork and samples of the explosives, enough for them to start running tests, and go out the way we came in. Pearce can send her people in to collect the rest."
"You wanna climb back onto the roof? Really, Mike?"
"Really, Sam."
"You heard the man, buddy," he replied, cuffing their prisoner on the shoulder and turning him towards the ropes dangling from the hole in the ceiling. "Upsy daisy you go."
Once they were safely out of the building and Sam and the security guard were off the roof, Michael paused. Ever since he had seen all the weapons, ammunition and explosives stored in the warehouse, he had been thinking about all the death and destruction these things could cause if somehow Anson Fullerton managed to weasel himself out of going to trial or, worse yet, if the psychologist wasn't the last man left.
Ignoring Sam's hissed calls to hurry up and his queries into what the hell he was doing, the spy attached a piece of det cord to a small piece of C4. Then, in one swift move, he lit the cord and threw it back into the building and an instant later rappelled quickly to the ground below.
"Run!" he urged, taking off without another word.
The three men were thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion and their clothing singed by the fireball which followed.
Sitting up, Sam patted out the smouldering material of his cargo pants. "What the hell, Mikey?!" he yelled, his face suffused with shock and anger.
Michael, who had been the only one who had known what was about to happen, was already back on his feet. "I couldn't risk Anson or anybody else getting their hands on any of that stuff. Besides, it sends him a message."
"I thought –?"
"Well, you thought wrong. I'm doing this my way... Pearce can have all the evidence; she can even have Anson after I'm done with him, but first I'm gonna make him suffer for what he's done to me," Michael spat back.
Sam reeled at the venom in his best friend's tone and his heart sunk as he realized the moment he had feared was finally coming to past. Michael had done exactly what he said he would. He had checked out Anson's warehouse and now he was going after the man himself.
"Mike, hey Mikey, calm down." Sam caught hold of his friend's arm to stop him from leaving. "At least help me get this guy and all the evidence we've got to Pearce. We get back to Miami and I'll help you go after Anson. But we've gotta do this right, you've gotta give Pearce a chance to build a case against the bastard."
For a second, he thought the younger man was going to storm off. But, as suddenly as the anger had flared, it was gone. "Okay..." Michael nodded solemnly. "We get back to Miami, hand all this in and then I'm gone."
Sam pursed his lips and then cocked his head to the side. Far off in the distance, but rapidly getting closer, he could see the glimmer of flashing bright lights and hear the faint wail of distance sirens belonging to the emergency vehicles coming their way.
"We'll talk about this later, brother," Sam replied stiffly. "I think we should go now before we end up having to answer a lot of awkward questions."
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This time Michael let Sam drive while he laid his head back and closed his eyes. He would have liked to have gotten some sleep, but there was no way that was going to happen. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her there waiting for him and his whole being ached to join her. For now the only thing keeping him going was the thought of revenge.
His mom would be fine. She had Nate and the newest addition to the Westen family, little Charlie, to dote on. Besides hadn't he caused her enough pain? If Anson was to believed, it was because of him that his dad was dead and then there was Benny. He hadn't liked the guy, but that didn't mean he had wanted him dead. No, he was pretty sure his family wouldn't miss him. He remembered the slap to his face and the look in his mom's eyes when she ordered him from the house. He could still feel the imprint, even though it had happened days ago.
Then there was Sam. His best friend had found his ideal woman in Elsa Dearbon. But if he continued to hang out with him, Michael knew his best friend would lose the love of his life just as surely as he had lost Fiona.
You don't get to have it all, the job and the girl. After all these years, Tom Strickler had been proven right.
He chewed on the knuckles of one hand, wishing for all the world that he had a bottle of scotch in his hand right now. He was on the verge of telling Sam to pull over so he could take over the driving. Alligator Alley was long, flat, mind numbingly boring and, in the pre-dawn darkness, there was nothing out there to offer anything in the way of a distraction.
"Sam," he spoke softly and then, before he could continue, his phone began to ring.
"Michael…" As soon as he heard his name spoken in that soft calm voice, he felt a tidal wave of anger rise up and threaten to drown him. His hand shook as he reached out to tap his friend's arm, mouthing, "It's Anson," when Sam looked round.
"What do you want?" Michael asked, somehow managing to stay calm, even though under the surface he was raging.
"That was quite the disaster at my warehouse tonight, Michael. I thought we had an understanding. I thought I was very clear about actions having consequences."
"Warehouse?" he asked innocently, determined that it wouldn't be him who lost his temper during this exchange.
"Don't play me for a fool, Michael. I know it was you," Anson replied, his tone that of someone scolding an unruly child.
"Well, in that case, I guess it's over and I'll see you in hell." So much for remaining calm…
"No, Michael, it isn't over. Poor Fiona may have died, but you have other friends – and family too."
"I swear, if you -"
"Yes, yes, you're going to hunt me down. That's why I'm calling, I'm not sure hunting me down should be your first priority."
"Oh, really? Because as of right now, you're my only priority."
Sam had managed to pull the car over and, as soon as the Charger came to a stop, Michael was out of his seat, pacing back and forth.
"No, Michael, you're wrong. You have a far more pressing problem... Daryl Jordan, he's a former patient of mine and an ex-army ranger. I treated him for paranoid schizophrenia. He needed a focus for his violence impulses, so I suggested you. He's on his way to Daytona Beach right now as we speak to address his issues."
Michael felt a cold chill run down his spine. The bastard was threatening his whole family. "I swear I'm going to dedicate my life into finding you and making you pay!" He snarled into the phone, all pretence of self-control ripped away as the DIA psychologist played with his heart and mind.
"Thinking positively, still focused on your goals I see… But coming after me is only going to cause you more pain, Michael. If you drive on through the night, you may make it in time to save your family. You've already lost Fiona. Do you want to risk losing your mommy, too?"
Michael stared at his cell phone as Anson ended the call. His head was spinning. He looked at Sam, his features stricken. "He's sent psychopath after my family. He knows they're in Daytona… What am I gonna do?"
Without another word, he turned away, staggering further along the side of the road and then bent forward at the waist, as his stomach clenched and bile rose up in his throat. Once he had emptied his stomach, Michael slowly straightened and took a several deep breaths as he took back control. He had pushed and now Anson had pushed right back. He understood clearly now. This was never going to end until one of them was dead.
"Sam, call Pearce. Let her know you'll be bringing in a witness and what we took from the warehouse." He was already glancing up and down the pitch black road trying to get his bearing. "At the next rest stop, you're gonna let me out and I'm going to find a car and head over to Daytona. Hopefully I can get there before -"
Sam was at his side, a large hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Mike, use your head, you're not thinking clearly. There are no rest stops out here. We need to get this guy into CIA custody. He's the key to the evidence on Anson."
Michael could see the outline of the man's head in the rear glass of the Charger and the small portion of road that its headlights illuminated and reason started to penetrate his mind as he fought against the urge race towards the threat against his family. Sam was right. He was going to have to work with the CIA on this or it all was going to have been for nothing.
"Mike, are you listening to me? You make the call to Pearce while I drive. Tell her to send some men over to Nate's place and call the local PD. She can get people over there quicker than you can drive. She can also order her guys to bring in Anson now that he's made threats against your family…You've got him, brother." He patted his friend on the arm and then escorted the shaken spy back to the Charger. "Think about it. If he's calling you, trying to convince you to back off, it means he's scared. Get in, Mikey, and start dialling, I'll get us back to Miami."
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The buzzing and clattering noise of her cell phone vibrating its way across the bedside table woke Dani Pearce with a start. Following up a loud groan, she sat up letting the covers fall away from her body as she reached out to pick up the offending piece of technology.
Seeing the name displayed on the face of her cell, all signs of annoyance disappeared.
"Michael," she spoke as soon as she accepted the call. "What are you doing calling at this time -?"
"I just got a call from Anson. He knows we've been in his warehouse. He's sent an ex-Ranger with anger management issues after my family. They're staying in a rental at Daytona Beach. You have to get somebody there, now."
Shaking her head as she tried to make sense of what he was saying, she got out of bed and reached for her discarded clothing.
"Calm down, Michael. Where are you?" She smiled briefly as Jesse handed her the garments she was searching for. "Anson called you?" She looked at the clock beside his bed and frowned when she saw it was three AM.
"He's on the move, Dani. You have to tell your team to bring him in and get somebody over to Daytona to protect my family... I'm sending you the address now."
"Let me make some calls. I'll get back to you soon." When Michael hung up without another word, she pressed down on the key to bring up a list of contact numbers and began scrolling through looking for the name she needed.
"What's going on?" Jesse asked, as he continued to pull on his clothes. "Mike in trouble?"
"Yes – maybe... I need to make some calls," she replied. Reaching over, she switched on the bedroom light to make it easier to see what she was doing. "Can you make some coffee? I think we're going to need it."
Before he could answer, her first call was answered. "Agent Lange? It's Pearce, bring in Fullerton now. Yes, now. Do not let him make any calls, secure his home and do a thorough sweep. I want him sitting in an interrogation room within the hour."
She quickly threw on the same clothes she had been wearing the day before, while she tried to come up with somebody she could call to deal with Michael's second request. She was no further along when her cell rang again.
"Ma'am, this is Agent Lange... I don't know how he did it, but Anson Fullerton is gone. We're searching the apartment now, but it looks pretty clean."
Dani stiffened and took a breath. "He got away? He's a psychologist! How did you lose him? I want him found now. Tear his place apart. Get the film from every traffic cam within a five mile radius."
"Ma'am, I -"
"Get on with it, Lange! Call me back within the hour with some progress."
Doing her best to maintain control, she left the bedroom and went searching for her shoes in the living room.
"So are you going to fill me in?" Jesse handed her the small cup filled with a strong black coffee.
"Michael and Sam are on their way back from Tampa. But somehow Fullerton found out what they've been up to and he's threatened Westen's family. Now my surveillance team informs me that he managed to sneak past them, too. How the hell did he got by somebody like Rebecca Lange I will never know!"
As she spoke, she paced restlessly. "Oh, and Westen wants me to send a protection detail to Daytona to keep his family safe from some psychopath Anson has sent after them only I don't have anybody to send." She stopped walking long enough to sip down the bitter brew in her hand.
"I know somebody in Daytona," Jesse announced. Bringing out his cell, he made for the door leading out onto the third floor apartment's balcony. "Give me second, let me make a call."
Standing outside, Jesse stared down at his phone. It was risk, if anybody saw her... But if Michael lost his family because they had pushed him into acting against Anson, Jesse didn't think he would be able to forgive himself. Without another thought, he dialed the emergency number.
"Hey, it's me. We have a problem…. Yeah, you were right… Anson put a hit out on Maddy and Nate… " As angry as he had been when he discovered Fiona was back, sneaking around Miami, trying to keep tabs on Michael, he had to admit her decision to travel up to Daytona in anticipation of an attack on the the Westen clan had been the right call.
"No, no intel on what's inbound other than it's whacked...yeah, I know you can handle it... Take care and - um –stay safe."
Ending the call, he looked up to see Dani watching him expectantly. "Okay, that's covered, but you still need to call in Daytona PD for back up and to take charge of this huge slice of crazy when-."
"Who –?" Dani jumped on his hesitation.
"A bounty hunter we use sometimes." Jesse replied vaguely. "Please, Dani, just tell the boys in blue to keep their eyes open for friendlies and don't shoot first."
"Fine," she agreed. "But you better hope your friend doesn't cause any incidents because every one of my bosses will line up to kick me for officially using unofficial personnel if this—"
The tall man cupped her shoulders with his large hands and leaned down to kiss her, effectively cutting off her argument. It started slowly and built in passion, until gasping for breath they pulled apart.
"Trust me, Dani," he requested.
With the rest of her calls made, including one to Michael warning him that Anson was on the loose, Agent Pearce led the way out of Mr. Porter's condo and down to the parking lot behind the building.
"We should take our own cars," her companion commented, leaning into to place a kiss on the senior CIA field officer's cheek.
"You're right." She nodded. "No need to broadcast, we - er -" Her finger tips brushed against his arm.
"We'll get through this first and then work on where we're going." He wanted to kiss her again like he had before, but the parking lot of his condo wasn't the place for that regardless of how early it was.
"We'd better get going then." Dani straighten her hair. "I'll meet you at the office."
Jesse waited until she drove away and then went to his own vehicle. Jumping in, he started the Porsche's engine and set off after the government standard issue black GMC. When he had joined Agent Pearce on the private CIA flight to DC, he'd had no idea where their working together was going to lead.
The attraction had been there all along. From the first time they had met on that agency op with Michael in the Bahamas, Mr. Porter had admired the leggy brunette. But he'd never considered a relationship with her. She was older than him, seemed to be career driven and, if there was one thing he didn't want, it was a romantic entanglement with a spy. Yet here they were, after working their second official case together... He grinned stupidly, catching his reflection in his rear view mirror.
It had really started for him on the company jet, watching her handing out orders and taking charge. He had admired the sway of her hips as she has marched up and down the aisle, making sure everything was going to be in place for their arrival, firing questions at her subordinates and answering their queries all with an equal passion.
Once in DC, he had been impressed with the smooth flow of the mission and the way they had easily worked together as they had during their time in the Caribbean. For the very first time, he had gotten a real taste of what had only been hinted at before. He had always been envious of the way Michael and Fiona worked as if one. When on a job, the fiery couple were perfectly in sync and now he knew what it felt like to work together, just the two of them.
They had gone into the law firm after the office had closed, disguised as members of the cleaning staff. Then she had kept watch while he had picked the lock into the records room. Once inside, as he searched through the paper records, Dani had used her skills on the computer to download their client list before joining him in hunting through files which lacked names on the covers.
"Never mind, I have the client list," she had hissed. "We should leave, it's - Oh…." In her hands, she held a file that inside held a photocopy of a passport page and a list of bank accounts.
The photograph was that of Vaughan Anderson.
"Come on, we should go," he'd agreed with a grin. "That should be enough to get the FBI drooling, a terrorist locked up in Gitmo with an active bank account."
Not wanting to have to spend a whole night cleaning an office building, but also not wanting to alert the firm's security to an unauthorized breech, they had sneaked out, avoiding being seen. He guessed it was the thrill of working so well together and succeeding that had led to the kiss that had led to the make out session in her hotel room before they were heading to the commuter airport to return to Miami.
Smiling at the memory of her acceptance to his invitation come back to his place, he hoped he was going to get the chance to share the news with his friends when this was all over. The smiled slipped as he realized that, unless they found Anson quickly, the chances of a happy ending for all of them would be very slim indeed.
Pulling into the underground parking garage, Jesse almost ran to the elevator, just making it in time to join Dani inside.
"I have an idea and you're gonna hate the paper pushing that goes with it, but you should put in a request for Vaughan to be brought back here. If Anson is running that money we got him through Vaughan's accounts, we might just be able to motivate him to spill his guts on what he knows about the bastard."
()()()()()
Michael stared out of the wind shield looking at the long, desolate road stretching out ahead; the view was fitting considering his present mood. For all her earlier reassurances, Dani Pearce's top flight surveillance team had managed to lose track of Anson Fullerton. The man had apparently sneaked out of his apartment past three experienced field agents and disappeared into the night.
But that wasn't the the end to the bad news. No, she had then informed him that she didn't have any assets in the Daytona Beach area. Everybody was tied up with either helping capture Anson Fullerton, or working on another job involving a high priority extraction of one Reed Perkins. However, she had been in touch with Jesse Porter and he knew somebody who could keep watch over the Westen family and, if necessary, deal with a psychotic soldier.
"Sam..." It was no good. He couldn't rely on a stranger to keep his family safe. Anson was too dangerous and the man he had sent was a former Ranger. "I can't trust some stranger to protect my mom." He pointed ahead to where there was the soft glow of city lights. "We're coming up on civilization. You should take our friend back there into the CIA while I find a car and head north. I could be in Daytona in a couple of hours."
Sam's jaw tightened and the older man sent him a look of concern. "It would be more like four hours, Mikey, and, no matter how fast you drive, it would be daylight before you got there. Jesse wouldn't send somebody he didn't think was up to the job and the cops'll be there too."
"I still -"
"Look, Pearce is going to want to see you. You're her agent in the field." The greying man sighed as he thought about the long day ahead of him. "How about I make the drive? I'll look after your mom and Nate. It'll leave you free to go after Anson."
It didn't take Michael long to choose what to do. "Sure, thanks, Sam."
"Great, so let's go and find me a car." Ahead of them was the off ramp leading to the City of Sunrise and into the massive parking lot of the Sawgrass Mills Mall. Even at this early hour, there were still a variety of vehicles to choose from of those left there overnight.
As soon as the older man brought the Charger to a halt, Michael was out and moving round to take over the driving. "You need me to get you a car first?" he asked.
"No, that's fine, Mikey. I think I can steal my own ride... You get Jake into a nice warm interrogation room and I'll go take another two hundred mile road trip."
()()()()()
By the time Michael parked his Charger next to Jesse's silver Porsche, he was close to exhaustion. Dragging Jake the security guard out of the back seat, he then popped the trunk and brought out a large bag containing all the evidence they had collected from the warehouse.
"Here, hold out your arms," Michael ordered.
"Why? Where are we? This ain't no police -"
"Who said anything about cops?" Michael answered and then handed the handcuffed prisoner the bag to carry. "Come on." Taking hold of the man's arm, Michael escorted him over to the elevators.
When they walked into Dani Pearce's outer office, Michael was surprised to see the amount of activity taking place. But instead of stopping to see what they working on, he headed straight towards the senior field agent's door.
"Michael." Agent Pearce smiled up at him as the dark haired man strode through the opening without knocking. "And I see you brought me a present." she continued, glancing at the scruffy looking individual standing at Westen's side.
Michael paused, his eyes taking in every detail of the room, including the sight of Jesse Porter sitting perched on the edge of Dani's desk. Pointedly ignoring the younger man, he turned his attention back to his agency contact.
"Agent Pearce, this is Jake. He was employed to guard Anson Fullerton's armory. Jake, this is Agent Pearce. I'm sure you two will get to know each other really well."
"Michael, where do you think you're going?" Dani called out as the spy, having pushed the security guard further into the room, had turned to leave.
"I've brought you your evidence, I've got you a witness. The rest is up to you," he answered flatly. "I'm going to go and find Anson myself."
"Do you remember when you apologized for lying to me for the last six months and then promised to do things my way from now on?" She paused, watching as his body slumped. "I need your report on what happened at that warehouse and then you'll go home. We'll call you when we find Fullerton."
Michael opened his mouth to complain, but he saw the resolute look in the senior agent's eye and thought better of it. He knew the way the game was played and disobeying what passed for a direct order was only going to get him thrown in a cell next to Anson's security guard. So he plastered a fake smile on to his face and nodded.
"Yes ma'am."
Dani wasn't fooled for a second by the smile or the softly spoken words. "Find a space out there and get writing. Oh, where's Axe?"
"I sent him to check on my mom, to make sure she stays safe."
"Good. That should keep him out of trouble... Get writing that report, Westen, and then we can sit and go through it." She gave him her own version of a toothy smile.
Jesse waited until Dani had sent Michael's prisoner off to an interrogation room and had arranged for the explosives to be tested to see if their chemical signature matched any of the bombs used in the British consulate bombing before approaching her.
"That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?" He nodded towards where his friend sat hunched over a desk writing down the details of the Tampa mission.
"Better he's in here filling out reports than out there on his own tearing up Miami," she replied and then moved closer. "Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you?"
"Ah, it's nothing much, just a little misunderstanding which I hope will be sorted out very soon."
"You're as bad as he is, you know that?" the dark haired woman complained.
"It's personal, Dani. Let it go. Please?"
When he looked at her that way, with his big brown puppy dog eyes, the hardened CIA operative felt her heart melt. This was no good. This man was going to cause her all sorts of trouble.
"Well, if you won't answer my questions, how do you feel about helping me with Anson's security guard? I'd like to hear what he has to say before I do Michael's debrief."
()()()()()
Daryl Johnson was a cold blooded machine, filled with anger and hatred. For a long time, ever since the mission which had seen his whole team killed, that hatred had been directed at himself. He had made a fatal error of judgement which had led to his men being brutally cut down.
But Dr Fullerton had shown him the truth, had brought in files which had shown him how the greed of a spy, now thankfully burned, had been the real cause for the death of his team. Michael Westen had given away intelligence which had gotten American soldiers killed. Yet the traitor had never been punished. Well, that was what he was going to do. He was there to make the man suffer; he was going to kill his whole family, who had thoughtfully gathered in one place.
In the pre-dawn light, he cut the telephone lines and set up a frequency jammer which would black any calls for help. He fixed his bullet proof vest in place. Tightening the straps and then picking up his guns, he walked resolutely towards the house containing Madeline, Nate and Ruth Westen.
The large white panel van parked in the street looked out of place. But with the back doors open, he could see it was empty, so he was unconcerned. He scanned the pavement and spotted a small woman walking towards him holding a large potted plant in front her. Bare legs, bare arms dressed in tight shorts and sleeveless top, he dismissed the woman as harmless and assumed her field of vision blocked by the ferns. He didn't even bother hiding his weapons.
She walked past him without seeming to notice him at all and then he heard a couple of soft pops. Pain ripped through his lower body as he collapsed in a heap, though his pain didn't last long as the large planter came down on his head.
The tiny auburn haired woman took a hasty look up and down the street before taking hold of the man by the vest and dragging him towards the back of the open van.
Ten minutes later, the van drove away and there wasn't a single piece of evidence left to say anything untoward had happened on the quiet suburban street.
()()()()()
"Michael..."
He sat up with a start, his eyes wide and filled with confusion. "What? Yea, I'm awake..."
"Sorry, but I thought you should know, Jesse's friend in Daytona has neutralized the man sent by Anson. I don't have any more news for you at the moment, but your family is safe. They don't even know they were ever in danger. I'm making arrangements for them to be taken into protective custody until this is over."
Michael blinked away the moisture building in his eyes and turned away from the tall dark haired woman who stood beside him. Wiping away the sign of his weakness with a brush of his hand, he got to his feet and placed his other hand over the pile of paper in front of him.
"My mission report."
"Thank you. We'll go through it later. For now, you're going home and getting some rest."
"I'm fine, honestly." He made an effort to stand up straighter and look more alert. But it didn't work.
"Michael, you fell asleep at your desk. I'm sending you home. When was the last time you slept?"
"I can manage, I've stayed up longer than this." He brushed aside her sympathy and understanding. It wasn't what he wanted.
"Maybe so, but I'm sending everyone home who's worked through the night. There's nothing else for us to do until we've sorted through all the evidence or until Fullerton comes out of whatever hole he is hiding in."
"How about I take -" He didn't want to go home. At that moment, he was willing to do anything to stay away from the loft.
"No, you're too tired to be any good. Come on," She added the command as she took hold of his arm and pulled him towards the elevators. "No more arguments."
They travelled down to the parking levels in silence, Dani keeping an eye on her newest asset. She could guess what he was going through and longed to reach out to him. He was completely alone and, from his manner, close to breaking. She didn't know what had caused the rift between him and Jesse, but she had a pretty good idea it had something to do with how Fiona Glenanne had died. With Sam away for the time being, it meant that the grieving spy would be all alone for awhile and she knew what that was like all too well and it was not good.
Once they approached their cars, which fortunately no longer included the silver Porsche, she coughed softly to clear her throat. "Michael..."
He wasn't sure what got his attention more, her tone or the fact that she had taken to calling by his first name ever since...
"If you want to talk about anything... I think this is something I could help you with. When my fiancée was killed -"
"I -Dani, I can't talk about it..." he muttered, staring at the ground, his voice nearly breaking from unshed tears. "She – I wasn't there." He sniffed and, when he spoke again, she could barely hear him. "I should have listened to her. I should never -"
She could hear the recrimination in his voice and knew it was her duty to pull him back from the edge.
"Michael, I want you to listen to me. You have a job to do -"
His head snapped up at that. His eyes were bright, a terrifying mixture of anger and hopelessness. "Yeah, that's what we tell ourselves, isn't it? We have a job to do. That's what I told her over and over until-" He dropped his head again and choked back a sob.
Not sure what do at first, Dani Pearce took a hesitant step forward and laid a hand on his bicep.
"I know, Michael," she told quietly. "I know. Go get some rest. We'll need you to make sure we bury that sonuvabitch."
He nodded mutely, chewing his lower lip and getting himself back under control. "I'll see you in the morning," he said hoarsely, stepping towards the Charger.
"I'll see you when you get here," she countered moving towards her vehicle. "Get some rest," she repeated.
And since he considered that an order, he made a quick stop at the nearest liquor store on his way to the loft to ensure he was indeed able to rest.
()()()()()()()()
He was walking through a field, wild flowers dotting the landscape at odd intervals. The air was alive with the sounds of life everywhere, birds singing, insects chattering and a cool breeze wafted through the meadow and filtered through his long, black hair.
He knew he was really back in the loft, curled in a ball clutching Fiona's pillow on his empty bed, the whisky long gone and his mind wrapped in a pleasant haze. But the dream was warm and numbing and that's all he could ask for right now.
He continued on his way around the edge of the stone wall towards a small copse of trees which would lead him back onto the road and back, he suddenly realized, to the Fiona's mother's home.
Recognizing where he was, he made his way in between the trees and out the other side. There, down a narrow, overgrown track in a small hollow, was an old wooden hay barn that was nearly empty now. But long ago, on a Christmas night, it had made a cozy, warm shelter from the cold night air.
As he approached the barn, he saw a group of children playing with a litter of kittens while the mother cat sat off to the side watching. He picked up the pace when he saw the lone figure step out of the barn with a fluffy bundle of fur in her hands that was by its markings another Belgium shepherd, another pup that would grow up to guard the Glenanne family.
She put the animal down when she saw him and they ran towards one another, embracing desperately when they came together, the world seeming to spin around them like an out of control carousel.
"Took ya long enough t'git har. I wa' beginnin' ta t'ink ya dinnae need me."
"I need you, Fi," he croaked out. "Now, more than ever." He couldn't stop the tears from falling as he clutched her tightly to his body. "Stay, please, stay."
She held him tighter in return as he buried his face into her hair, into her neck.
"Sleep, Michael, sleep. This'll all be jus' a bad dream soon..."
And sleep he finally did.