Chapter 32
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"I don't think it's PTSD," Father Hector said, "but it's a relative known as ASD or Acute Stress Disorder. Sam filled me in on what happened two months ago and I think Michael's current state of health complicates all of this. I talked to Michael earlier today, and I understand why you are all so concerned for him.
"Also, I'd like you to keep in mind that he has received any number of life-saving drugs, some of which have side-effects that could still be complicating this. Depression is a well known side effect of several drugs I can think of. As you can see, I am not a physician. I know you are deeply concerned, and please understand I am not qualified to make this assessment. I am speaking only from my observations after spending several years working with people who have suffered all manner of injuries and manifest the same kind of pain and loss that Michael does.
"In many ways, if he could articulate it, and he may at some time do that, but for now he's unable. But, if he could now, he would tell you it seems like he has missing parts of his life. Only you will be able to identify what that is, and you'll see a pattern emerge.
"ASD is a lesser term situation where a person feels detached from their body. It's a kind of dissociative amnesia where memory is lost or there's a problem recalling the past. The textbooks will tell you it can last from two days to four weeks, but from what I've observed, I think it lingers longer than that, depending on a person's physical condition. Michael needs rehabilitative physical therapy, that's very obvious. I saw what he keeps at the loft, the weights, the incline board, the punching bag, running shoes, so those things were already a part of his life that he needs. To regain his health, his physical fitness, just that alone will go a long way toward helping him heal.
"What I want to emphasize to all of you is how important each of you is, because the one thing essential to anyone healing from ASD of PTSD is to have supportive friends and family members, and I can see Michael has that. Drug or alcohol use will exacerbate the problem, and people in pain often self-medicate, so be aware and be careful for him."
Fiona laughed. "Then Sam will need to get rid of the beer at the loft."
The priest smiled. "Perhaps."
"Will we get him back?" Nate wondered, "or is he going to be a zombie forever?"
"Now, Nate," Madeline chastised, "Michael zombied before when Fi was in prison and he came back."
That was news to Father Hector. "How long ago did that happen? What did you do?"
"Let's see," Madeline thought for a moment, remembering. "It was right after Fiona turned herself in to the FBI."
Dani remembered the date. "That was ten, almost eleven months ago."
"At the time, he wasn't sleeping, he wasn't eating. He was just sitting and staring. It made me crazy, so I yelled at him and made him eat some food and I opened one of my sleeping pills and stirred it in his spaghetti sauce. It knocked him out, and he finally slept. When he got up, he was more like himself. Not perfect, because he was so worried about Fi."
"No, he was a pain," Jesse remembered.
Madeline looked over at him. "Is that when you were fighting in the garage?"
"Wasn't much of a fight," Jesse said. "I got fed up and slugged him. He calmed down after that."
Father Hector smiled and looked around. "Anyone else deliver tough love?"
Fiona put her hands over her baby-sized baby tummy. "I slugged him, too."
"Why?" Father Hector wondered, clearly amused.
"Because he wasn't taking care of himself, he wasn't sleeping or eating and he was grouchy and I didn't think he deserved to be grouchy. He wasn't in prison, I was," Fiona explained.
"And that worked, too," Dani remembered, smiling. "The next morning he brought us coffee and Sam beer and apologized, then Jesse embarrassed him and asked if you bruised his cheek."
"Yeah," Jesse said. "That was fun. He turned red."
Father Hector smiled. "Everything I've heard here gives me great hope that all of you will be able to help Michael come back into his life. Just be yourselves. Help him get stronger, make sure he keeps the doctor appointments I know he has, and please feel free to call me whenever you have a question or just want to talk."
He looked at Fiona then and spoke softly. "Your family and friends are here. Shall we bless your child now?"
She'd asked to speak with him privately, earlier in the evening when he first arrived at Madeline's house. She'd told him that she and Michael wanted their marriage blessed but were waiting until after the operation they were involved in to be over, and now that it was, despite Michael's condition, she had a great need to have their unborn child blessed.
She discovered her pregnancy a month ago when she realized she had been so focused on Michael she'd not paid attention to the small changes taking place in her own body. After verifying her suspicion with a drugstore kit, she'd made an appointment with the gynecologist who saw her when she suffered the miscarriage.
When she learned she was three or three and a half months pregnant, she was a bit awed. That meant it had happened shortly after she recovered from the miscarriage.
She'd told Madeline, but she couldn't risk disappointment by telling Michael. She hoped that he might notice her changing shape since it seemed to be more obvious with each passing day, but he hadn't.
The doctor accepted her desire to be uninformed as to the sex of her child; she'd explained why her husband wasn't with her when she asked. She hoped before much more time passed, he would be able to share this with her. It was the single thing saving her grasp of the future with Michael, and she needed as many protections as humanly and heavenly possible.
"This is a new formal rite in the Church," Father Hector said, "but mothers and fathers have been praying for healthy children to be born since time began."
When he finished, he blessed Fiona and the child she carried, and the small gathering of people who loved Michael was quietly moved by the simple beauty of the priest's words.
He'd provided new hope for all of them, hope that had been tested while Michael fought for his life and struggled to survive.
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Two Months Later
"Mikey, you got to see that endo-something doctor today at 11 and then you got the renal doc at 2, so we better get cleaned up and get out of here. Damn, this place needs air."
Sam was dripping sweat. This was not the first time in recent days he'd wondered how much it would cost to add an AC unit in the loft. It was late summer in Miami and between the humidity and the current lack of a breeze, he was miserable.
Clunk. Clunk. Mike's two thirty-pound weights hit the wood floor. Sam was still using the 20 pounders.
They'd been following a muscle building routine for beginners, and Michael had just moved from the beginners set of reps to the intermediate today. Sam was following along and appreciating what was happening to his own abs when he wasn't complaining about how hot he was or which knee hurt or how thirsty he was.
"Okay. You want to take the shower first or cool down?" Michael asked. His face was red, he was dripping sweat, too. But he looked healthy, truly healthy for the first time in what seemed like a small eternity in the Westen world. They'd crossed the threshold between ill and good health in last week or so. It felt like an accomplishment worthy of an Olympic medal in Sam's not so humble opinion.
"Nah, you go. I need to call Nate and tell him to come later today."
Nate was Mike's only consistent running partner, and now that Jesse was back from Bora Bora or wherever the hell he'd gone, he'd join them again after he got whatever project was waiting for him taken care of at SecuriCorp.
It was an interesting personality dynamic for Sam to observe, on days his knees weren't killing him. He was due for another cortisone shot in the left one, he knew, because he could feel it. Hell of a thing, getting old, creaking. On the other hand, it was a rare opportunity to best Mike at something, not that he'd say that out loud. Nate could say it, though, and did.
What amused Sam was the difference in Mike's behavior by who he was running with. It had taken a month to move from walking to running, but they'd done it.
Nate used that little brother chatter to rag on him or he'd run backward so he could harass Mike, face to face, to go faster until Mike's temper started elevating, then he'd turn and jackrabbit ahead of him, laughing at his older brother's annoyance. Jesse just brought out Mike's intensely competitive nature by being himself. Jess just ran slow and steady and it was all Mike could do to keep up.
Yes, Sam was satisfied the results had been positive.
Father Hector had been to visit at least once a week, appreciably to see Sam, but to also check Mike's progress. Yesterday he'd told Sam something Sam had thought about himself. Hec thought the gunshot and the severity of the subsequent infection played the dominate role in Mike's ASD.
The priest came to that conclusion after learning more about his childhood, youth and military career, and his life as a burned spy in Miami. Mike might have occasionally gotten off track in his life, but he'd been able to return to center every time because he'd been lucky to have those few, solid people who brought him back. That required an individual spirit that was a gift of birth or some indefinable human element that could be recognized but not fashioned.
It was his mother and his wife who formed the core of love that kept him centered, whether he was able to recognize it or not, Hec said. Sam thought about that and while he didn't disregard Maddie, he believed it was Fiona who'd consistently held him together, and it had been like that since they'd met, he knew.
Mike was almost looking like himself again. He was still a lot thinner than he'd been, but he was so much stronger now. He was sleeping well, too, unlike the first weeks back at the loft when Sam observed, from his vantage point in second level office, that Mike was riding his nightmares, fencing with enemies and boxing invisible demons. At least he wasn't crying "Fiona" in his sleep these nights. That plaintive cry for her had about killed him to listen to for the first month he'd stayed here.
Unfortunately, Mike had yet to remember he was married.
On some level, Sam knew he knew it, because he'd see him spinning his wedding ring on his finger in a nervous gesture. But, there was a disconnect there so Sam was watching and waiting to see what would trigger remembrance.
He'd cataloged observances as Michael remembered other things. The Rangers. Old enemies. CIA assignments in Germany. Some stupid thing his old man said once. Almost everything and anything except Fiona.
Sam didn't understand that.
And he didn't think she understood, either, because he checked in with her often. Several times a day often.
She needed it, and Sam needed to tell her what was happening with Mike.
He called her from the deck when Mike was sleeping; he called her while he was waiting for Mike at doctor's offices. He called her after her baby doctor visits, and it just about broke his heart every time he had to tell her that Mike hadn't asked about her yet. He always used that word, if only to make himself feel better: yet.
Father Hector advised him to be patient; he told him it would happen, but Sam was impatient for Fiona.
He told Madeline it was the most difficult part of what he was doing here, not being able to tell Fiona her husband asked about her. Leave it to Maddie, though. She'd done something about that. It was just a matter of waiting to see when Mike picked up that envelope.
Mike grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and arms then slung it around his neck and headed to the fridge.
Sam reached for his phone to call Nate.
He'd just punched in Nate's number when he saw Mike close the refrigerator door and notice the envelope with his name on it. Sam closed his phone slowly to watch what would happen next.
Mike had pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and was drinking it when he spotted the envelope propped against the dead yellow orchid sitting at the end of the counter.
It had been sitting there for a week.
His mother had written his name on it. He looked at the handwriting and frowned, then opened the flap that hadn't been sealed and pulled out the wrinkled note with the handwritten message.
Even before I knew your real name I loved you. Before I should have, I trusted you, because I've always known your heart. You do what's right, no matter the cost to you.
And I've learned that when you love a spy, you have to be willing to make that sacrifice, too. At times your job has made it hard to be with you, but it's never shaken my faith in you. I can't let you ruin anyone's life to save mine. I have to force you to tell what you know. If you don't, you won't be the man I love. Do the right thing.
I love you, Michael. Forever.
If he hadn't been standing next to the tall stool, Sam knew he would have slumped to the floor as his knees buckled under him. Mike sat there staring at the words on the paper. Finally, Sam approached and stood on the opposite side of the bench that served as a counter.
He looked up into Sam's face.
Awareness, clarity and pain washed Michael's blue eyes.
"I handcuffed her to that wall."
Sam nodded and watched him study the note with concentration. He looked up at him again.
"She was in prison."
Sam nodded and watched as tears tracked down his face, mingling with the sweat.
"And she lost the baby."
He confirmed that for him with a nod.
Michael rested his elbows on the counter and put his face in his hands and wept.
It might be the final stage of Michael Westen's cathartic return to his life, but Sam could not deal with this.
He walked over to the door and stepped outside, closing it behind himself before dropping to sit heavily on the top step with his head in his hands and renewed his own acquaintance with tears. It was fine when they belonged to someone else, but not Sam Axe because Sam Axe didn't cry.
By the time he could compose himself and walk back inside the loft, he found Michael standing at the counter with his phone his hand. He looked over at Sam.
"She's not answering."
"She had a doctor's appointment."
"Is she okay?"
"Just a regular appointment, yeah."
Mike looked at the phone as if he was seeing it differently. "Thanks. I need to get one of these."
"Yeah."
"I need to see her."
"We should clean up first."
"I need my DL back."
"Yes."
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Fiona opened the door after leaving her sample. Step one, every visit. Leave a sample. And that was easy to do these days because her burgeoning baby was resting heavily on her bladder and there was no controlling the uncontrollable. It was annoying.
She smiled when she realized Dani was waiting outside, next in line, holding her own pre-labeled cup, and then she smiled even wider when she realized Dani was blushing red, everywhere.
"Who are you seeing?" Fiona asked.
It was the same OB-GYN Fiona was seeing.
"I'll see you in the waiting room then."
"Okay." Dani smiled and disappeared into the bathroom Fiona had just left.
Fiona couldn't explain it, but one of the best things that had happened to soothe her battered heart in the last few months was watching Jesse and Dani's relationship, their marriage, grow. It gave her a peaceful sense of happiness she couldn't explain.
It wasn't envy, it was pure joy in watching them be in love with each other. A person would have to be blind to miss how utterly devoted they were, yet at the same time, how cautious they were about displaying their emotions in public or in front of others.
They'd recently returned from their honeymoon in Tahiti, and Dani had invited her to come for dinner two nights ago. It had been a wonderful respite to be around them, and Jesse seemed very interested in the antics of her unborn child who appeared to be trying to figure out how to make an early escape, given how active he or she was. The maternity dress she'd worn was a soft, comfortable knit that made every foot or elbow move clearly visible.
"Soccer player," he'd teased.
"Or ballerina," Dani said.
"Feels more like a kung fu fighter tonight," she'd told them as he excused herself again to use the bathroom.
When Dani came into the waiting room, Fiona removed her oversized bag from the chair next to her she'd been saving. The room was filled with all manner of expectant mothers and children. Dani sat next to her and smiled.
"Can I be happy for you?" Fiona asked.
"I think so," Dani said.
They traded appointment information and Fiona agreed to wait for Dani so they could leave to have lunch together.
Fiona wasn't pleased that she gained four pounds since last week, not pleased at all, but Dani was as giddily and deliriously happy as any woman who wanted a child could be. Even with everything that had happened with Michael, Fiona understood the emotion completely and was happy for her friend.
She'd seen Dani on her phone after she'd parked her car and knew she was talking to Jesse.
"I asked him to join us, but he can't," Dani said. "He's happy."
Fiona gave her a quick hug. "I am so, so happy for you, for both of you."
They stopped at a restaurant close to Carlitos to enjoy fresh fruit salads and grilled chicken. It was a leisurely, pleasant and relaxing time that both women thoroughly enjoyed.
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"No, I'm not calling her. She's fine, and she'll be back when she's ready to come home. She's having lunch with Dani. You can wait. She's been waiting for you."
"Please, Jess?" Michael asked.
Jesse smiled and shook his head.
Sam had dropped Michael at his townhouse and then called Jesse who'd left work to go check on him because Mike realized Fiona's car was gone and wanted to go look for her.
"He's kinda crazy at the moment, but not the bad crazy, more like nervous, first date crazy," Sam said when he called Jesse.
As soon as Jesse saw Mike, he could see he was back from wherever he had gone, and welcomed him home as a brother would welcome a brother who had been gone for a long, long time.
That didn't mean, however, Jesse would help him pressure Fi. "Just chill, man. She'll be back soon."
Michael realized he had no way to get in touch with her. He didn't have a cell phone, he didn't know where she was, even though Sam said she had a doctor's appointment; he was, simply, in panic mode. He needed to see Fiona, and she wasn't there.
Jesse exerted calming influence. "Patience, Mike. Patience. The world has turned a few times since you got hurt."
The problem for Michael was that the floodgates of his memory had opened.
Fiona's note was in his shirt pocket, anchoring his heart. He was awash with emotion and pain that he'd tamped down into an almost manageable whole that he could control.
Almost.
When the door to the townhouse opened, Jesse got up. "That's my cue."
He greeted Fiona at the door with a kiss to her cheek and saw Dani waiting behind her. "Hey, babe," he said as he pulled the door shut behind himself.
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At first, she thought she might be dreaming when she saw him standing there. It wasn't until he walked toward and she could see his eyes that she realized Michael had returned to her.
He held her gaze with his and, as he approached, he dropped to his knees in front of her and reached for her hands. "I'm sorry, Fi. I feel like I'm thirteen years old again, waiting for the prettiest girl in the room to say hello to me. I don't know how many ways to say I'm sorry, but I'll say them all, every way you want. I love you, wife."
He pressed a kiss to her baby belly and dropped his head, waiting for her to show some sign of her forgiveness for the pain he had given her.
She put her hands on his head and then slid them to the side of his face so he would look up at her. "You are going to have to stand up because I can't bend down that way and I need you . . . "
Later, she could not be sure how long they had stood there, their arms around each other. She knew from Sam's reports, he was not one hundred percent clear of some of his health problems, but he was so strong and solid and felt like the man she had been missing so desperately for months now. It had taken a good swift kick from the child in her womb to separate them and her heart filled with a full measure of joy to see the expression on Michael's face as he realized what had just happened. He bent down then to kiss her baby belly.
"When did you remember?" she asked when he rose again.
He reached into his pocket and handed her the note she'd written so long ago. She recognized it, of course.
"I love you, Fiona. Forever."
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"Oh, good they're all here," Madeline was giddily happy.
Doug, the man she'd met on the beach in North Carolina while she, Nate, Ruth and Charlie were under federal protection, had come to visit and to get to know the rest of Maddie's family and friends.
They'd planned the meal around blessings. Doug, a retired hospital chef, had been eager to offer his help, and Maddie had welcomed it. She was equally sure the rest of her family would be far happier with Doug's contributions than hers, although she was highly skilled at combining takeout menu items.
This morning, Michael and Fiona and Jesse and Dani had their marriages blessed by Father Hector. Both couples had been married in civil ceremonies, but this was a gift they would give each other as witnesses to each other's marriage.
Hours ago, they had all assembled at the church while two brief ceremonies were held, followed by Michael Gabriel Westen's baptism.
Father Hector had smiled. "It is a powerful thing to name a boy for two archangels."
A year ago, Madeline could not have predicted this joyful harmony in her life, and none of the people she loved could have predicted she would stop smoking.
That had started when Fiona had told her she and Michael had married. It had continued when she'd been relocated by the CIA to a remote area where it simply wasn't possible to run to the corner to buy a pack of cigarettes. And then there was Doug. He didn't care to kiss a woman with cigarette breath. That had been quite the sales point.
Dani entered first, with Jesse behind her. She was getting to the waddle stage, Maddie noted. Then came Fiona, then Michael who was carrying his son's car seat. The sweet boy was sound asleep, but Charlie was anxious to see his baby cousin again.
Madeline had a sense of peace she had not experienced ever in her life. It was a lovely thing. Michael noticed and came over to give her a hug. "You look happy, mom."
"I am. You look happy, too."
"I am."
FINI
For Erin, a lovely Irish lass.