Disclaimer: Frozen by Within Temptation is written by Westerholt, David M Martin/ Wessels, Johanna Charlotte. This Fanfic has been written just for fun, none of the songs used belong to me.
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A/N: Thank you for all the reviews for this story it means a lot to me and I appreciate each one. An extra special thanks goes out to Jedi Skysinger for finding the time to BETA this chapter.
In other news the final installment in the holiday chapters of the M- rated story Reconnecting by Jedi's Pal WILL be ready for posting on Saturday.
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BEHIND BLUE EYES
Part Five
Frozen
"Here we go, brother. It's a burner, bought in Miami over a month ago with cash, so it's completely untraceable. Call Strong and let's hear what he has to say."
Michael stared down at the small cheap cell phone his best friend had just placed down before him. This wasn't what he had expected. The dark haired spy looked up, letting his gaze linger on each of his friends in turn. Nor was it how he wanted to make first contact with Agent Strong and the CIA.
"I thought it might be safer if I made the call once we're back in Miami." He sat back in his seat, hiding his frustration expertly behind a calm expression and an amiable smile.
"Well, we thought it might be best to test the water first. There's no point in going back if Strong and the CIA are just waiting for a chance to scoop us all up. If he seems friendly, then we can all go back together and make a deal." His former lover smiled encouragingly, uncrossed her arms which had been folded over her chest and gave the phone a gentle nudge closer to his hand.
The spy paused, his mind quickly running through his choices, and when he realized they hadn't left him any, he reached for the cell.
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed smoothly as he keyed in the digits to connect with his CIA contact's personal phone before adding. "Of course, if something has gone wrong, we won't have long before they start a trace."
"It'll be fine, Mikey," Sam replied with his calm, reassuring baritone.
"Yeah?" Agent Strong voice came through the phone's loud speaker, filling the small cabin with his harried tone.
Michael swallowed down his distaste and answered. "It's me."
"Westen! I was wondering if you were gonna call."
Michael could imagine the agent signalling for a trace to be started and began his own internal countdown. He had less than sixty seconds to find out how bad things were. A quick glance at his friends told him they were all thinking the same thing.
"I – my cover was blown. I had -"
"Don't bother with the excuses, Michael. Do you have any idea what you've done? You promised the Director of Clandestine Services you would bring in Kendrick and his whole network and you failed... After I received your message, we assaulted that compound and do you know what happened?... I lost six men, even more wounded and all we got in return were a few of James' soldiers who aren't talking and Sonya Lebedenko, shot up so badly that she's on life support and as such she's useless to us."
Michael let his head drop down; a wave of sadness for a fallen comrade descended over him. He remembered how the blond haired young woman had told him once before that, after spending time as a prisoner of the Russian GRU, she had no intention of ever being taken captive again. He could only imagine how hard she must have fought right up until the end.
"Strong, this is all on me, my friends have nothing to do with this. Leave them -"
"Leave them out of it? I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but I'm pretty sure whatever it is, your friends are right slap bang in the middle of it. Glenanne extracted your mother from under the noses of Kendrick's men and then an hour later you went dark, and we lost our target. Do I need to spell it out for you, Michael? The entire operation is over and, as I stood up for you, my career is over too."
The older man's anger was palpable, leaving Michael desperately trying calm his agency contact down enough to listen to reason. "I'll come in. I'll -"
"You still don't get it, do you? Save your breath. The CIA is fresh out of deals for Michael Westen. You think it was tough being burned? You haven't seen anything yet. You are all going away for a -"
Michael ended the call abruptly, before pulling out the SIM card and the battery just to be sure. Tossing the dismantled phone aside, he dropped his head into his hands.
"Well, that went a helluva lot worse than I expected." Sam slumped back defeated in his chair.
"I'll talk to James. Maybe I -"
"No!" Fiona slapped her hand down fiercely on the table. "You're not going anywhere near that monster."
"We can't fight a war on two fronts, Fi," The dark haired spy explained softly. "James can't know for sure that I betrayed him. If I can talk to him, convince him I… killed you and got away."
She shook her head her eyes, filling with tears. But it was Sam who answered.
"That's not going to happen, brother. Think of something else, something that doesn't involve you stepping into the lion's den. Or the rest of us having to you know die, cuz you can be damn sure Kendrick will want to see our bullet ridden corpses."
Michael sat back in his chair, deep in thought. Things were even worse than he had first suspected. Now, more than ever, he needed to get away from these people and do some damage control.
James wouldn't leave Miami until he had either rescued Sonya or had taken his revenge for the young woman's capture. Thinking about the blond, of the last time he had seen her, reminded him of something she had said just before the call to tell them Fiona had attacked the men guarding his mother. He sat forward, eager to share.
"I don't care what Strong said about the mission being over. The CIA still wants James and his network. If I can give them that, it should be enough to get them to back off. Sonya mentioned a satellite expert in Miami. He was making a communication center for James. If I can find him and get the location, I could use that to make a trade with Strong. You guys lay low. I'll -,"
"Ah-huh, fella, if you think we're just gonna hide in a hole somewhere while you go off alone, you can forget it. It's not gonna happen."
"It's my decision." The coldness flowing through his veins iced over completely. He would tolerate no more interference with his plans.
"Hey, Mike, enough already, we're in this, together, remember? You're in no position to do this by yourself," Jesse joined in the argument.
"I can -"
"Did you forget that going off on your own, making deals for us without us is how we got here?" Fiona cut in low and quiet, but the venom in her voice was unmistakable.
Michael's words dried up on his lips. That had always been the problem. He saw that now. Every time he allowed himself to get close to somebody, they ended up involved in his life and nobody got involved in his life without getting hurt. That's how it was and that's how it would always be.
"Hey, listen, there's a communications guy I used to work with. I trust him. If I can get to talk to him, maybe he can help us find James' guy."
Jesse's interjection broke through the former couple's staring competition. Dropping his gaze first, Michael turned all his attention on to the younger man. For several seconds, there was silence as they all waited for the disgraced spy's response.
"Fine..." Michael forced his muscles to relax and barred his teeth in a toothy smile. Now was not the time to argue. "We'll all go back and talk to this friend of Jesse's." He would let them help him in the search for James' satellite expert and then – he looked from face to face – then he was gone.
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I can't feel my senses
I just feel the cold
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"What do you mean, you're going back to Miami?" Madeline didn't bother to hide her fear as she stared at her only living son. "I thought we had left there for good."
"I… we have to go back there, just for a little while. The CIA is hunting us and it's my fault. I messed up, but I'm going to put it right, I promise. If I give them James, there's a good chance they'll leave us alone."
The older woman was shaking her head in denial, her bright blue eyes flickering nervously to where Charlie slept on the bed. "I met that man, Michael. It's too dangerous." She reached up, one hand tenderly cupping her son's stubble covered cheek. "I know what his men are capable of, I - I don't want to lose my only son."
Staring into his mother's moisture filled blue eyes, he very nearly broke. They could run. It would be hard and it would never stop, but they could do it. His sharp mind began to plan their escape out of the country, working out the logistics necessary for them all to remain hidden from the multitude of enemies who would be coming after them. They would have to leave the country, somewhere without an extradition treaty with the US, and somewhere so remote that it was out of the reach of James' network.
What about him? You want Charlie celebrating his 8th birthday in a hut in Nicaragua?
His own words, spoken to his ex-fiancée what felt like decades ago about another boy named Charlie, came back to haunt him and he let his gaze stray to the small shape wrapped up under a comforter on the bed and all thoughts of them fleeing to some desert island or a mountain retreat were wiped from his mind. He could not do that to Nate's son. He had dragged his brother into his dangerous world and he had gotten the boy's father killed. There was no way he was going to do the same thing to a defenseless child... This was his sacrifice to make.
"Mom, I don't want to do this but sometimes, sometimes..." He sighed, trying to think of a way to make her understand. "You remember me saying that sometimes it's about the math? Well, this is one of those situations. If I can give the CIA what they want, we can all get our lives back."
"And if James kills you? Or the CIA won't let you go?"
This was becoming too painful. Madeline's son turned away from the woman who had brought him into the world. "You'll still be free. You'll take Charlie and hide out. Bring him up in some -"
"No, I won't let you." The older woman caught hold of her son's arm and pulled him back around to face her. The fear was gone from her eyes replaced by steely determination. "We'll find another way... Sam or Fiona... One of their friends can take us -"
"Mom…" He took hold of her arms, gripping her biceps tight enough to make the older woman wince. "Mom, I've made up my mind. You and Charlie are going to stay here. I'm going to get Fi to stay with you. In a -" he shook her when she tried to pull away and then leaned in close so he could look into her eyes. "In a few days, I want you to head for New Orleans and get on a bus going to Georgia. Go – I can't believe I'm about to say this– go stay with dad's family."
"You want me to take Charlie and go stay with Levi Westen and that side of the family?!"
"Mom, please," he begged. "I need to know you're safe. That you are both safe," he added with a nod to the small figure on the bed.
"Alright, it's alright, honey. I'll do it. You know I haven't spoken to any of Frank's relatives since his funeral?"
Michael let go of a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I know, Mom, you told me. That's what makes going to stay with them now the safest option."
"They were drunk before the service and the fighting…" She closed her eyes and shuddered to make her point.
"I know, Mom. You've told me several times." The spy rolled his eyes and let go of his mother's arms.
"So long as you understand what you're asking me to do is very upsetting."
"I understand, Mom."
She had agreed. That was all that mattered. Completely back in spy mode, Michael was already moving on to the next obstacle in his strategy to end the multitude of threats.
"Good... Now, you can do something for me," she requested.
"Sure…" Even as he spoke, her son knew he had slipped up.
"Take Fiona with you. I don't need a baby sitter. I've driven one of those airboats before. Me and Charlie can see you all off at the plane and then come back here."
"I -"
"You need all the help you can get. You just have to do the math," the blonde countered as she threw his own words back at him. "If you have Fiona with you, you all stand a better chance of coming back."
He could fight with her some more, but Michael knew deep down there was no point. So, he nodded his assent. "Fine, we're going to finish packing up and then leave at first light tomorrow."
Madeline sniffed and wiped a hand over her eyes. "So, plenty of time for goodbyes then…"
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All colors seem to fade away
I can't reach my soul
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In the end, Mrs. Westen was proven wrong. The remaining hours in the run down cabin went by far quicker than anybody other than the stoic, dark haired spy wanted. By the time the weaponry Fiona had brought with them had been double checked and repacked and two bricks of C-4 had been cut into smaller blocks and prepared for instant use, the sun was already peeking up over the horizon.
With Charlie wrapped up warmly and still sleepy, cradled in his Uncle Mike's arms, they had all climbed on board the air boat and Sam had navigated the way through the slow moving muddy colored waters to where the seaplane was hidden under a large camouflage netting amongst a cluster of live oak trees.
In next to no time at all, Michael was sitting behind the pilot's chair, staring out of the window at a small craft skimming over the bayou waters far below them. His mother would be fine; he was sure of it. She had always been a survivor and far tougher than she let on. He had made sure she was armed and had been left with all their spare cash. His only worry was it wouldn't be enough to get her to Atlanta and into the relative safety of Frank Westen's kin.
"Your mom will be fine." A small shapely hand landed gently on top of his and Michael turned his head to stare into the blue-green the eyes of the auburn haired woman sitting beside him. "The last year, having Charlie, it changed her. Did you know she took on a mob loan shark? Chased him all the way out of Miami with his tail between his legs... She even blackmailed him into paying into the Charlie Westen College Fund."
"I didn't know that. How -?" Ever since he had returned to Miami, the disenchanted spy had to constantly remind himself how much his friends and family had moved on with their lives while he was gone.
So why did he let it bother him so much? It's was what he had wanted. No, not what he wanted; it had been a necessity. Strong had been right to isolate him. He should've never insisted in bringing in Sam and Jesse to help with Burke. Because once the CIA had seen how useful his friends were to the mission, he had sealed all their fates.
"Oh, I provided a little tactical back-up, but your mom did all the hard work." The former guerilla added with pride. "She could have had a brilliant career in blackmail and extortion if she'd been given the opportunity."
"And why was a mob loan shark-?" But he knew the answer before he had even finished asking the question. Of course… it was fallout from his brother's car crash lifestyle and sudden death. "Nate... Nate had started gambling again."
"And worse," Fiona didn't need to say any more. "This particular rodent had apparently gone after Ruth, and she'd paid up. I wonder if that was the reason she didn't fight your mom's custody case."
"And then I come back and loan sharks are the least of all your problems." The disavowed spy slid his arm out from under his former lover's hand and looked away.
"Michael, stop beating yourself up, you weren't given a choice, I see that now."
Oh, she saw that, now. He swallowed back the bitter angry words which longed to come out. They only had a few days left until he found out the identity of James' satellite expert. Then he would be gone and, if things went the way he hoped, his mother, Charlie, all of them would be able to get back their lives.
"Michael?"
"I'm gonna catch up on some sleep," he answered without opening his eyes. "You should, too."
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I would stop running, if knew there was a chance
It tears me apart to sacrifice it all, but I'm forced to let go
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Fiona stared at the man she loved, studying him closely while he pretended to sleep. Outwardly, he looked to be the same man he had always been. A little rougher around the edges maybe, his dark hair a little more mussed up than he liked to wear it and the sweat pants and T-shirt would have only seen the light of day during a gym session. But all those things were just cosmetic; whatever had her spidey senses tingling went a lot deeper than the mere superficial.
There was no doubt in her mind that the disgraced spy was playing game, but the reason why eluded her. It was obvious to her that he was just letting them think they had talked him into doing things their way. Just like he hadn't uttered a word when Sam had sat down in the pilot's chair and Jesse had joined the older man up front taking the co-pilot's position. Accepting the role of a passenger without seeming to care just wasn't the Michael Westen she knew.
The Irishwoman reached out tentatively to touch his arm and then drew back, remembering how their last confrontation had ended with his emotional breakdown. Maybe that was all that was wrong with him, she assumed, maybe now he finally understood what he meant to them all.
But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it wasn't true. Her weary lover was the first to put everyone else before himself. Mr. Westen had apparently been taught that his entire life and he never could seem to understand that he was important to people that loved him and wanted him around. The whole concept just seemed to elude the dark haired man sitting next to her. Settling back in her seat, she stared past the supposedly sleeping spy to admire the clear blue of the sky outside the window. Maybe Michael was just tired of all the running and fighting and was trying to act like a normal human being.
The first part she believed sincerely, but Fiona was having a hard time getting herself to buy the second half. She held a brief image of Michael lifting his nephew into his arms, holding the small child to his chest as they had filed out of the cabin and climbed onto the air boat. She also remembered the tender kiss he had placed on the top Charlie's head before he had wordlessly handed the boy over to Madeline. Something about that precise moment had set the alarm bells ringing in her head... It was as if he was saying goodbye.
The thought had the tiny redhead shifting in her seat, intent on passing on her theories to the two men in front of her.
"Hey, park it, sister," Sam called over his shoulder. "We're coming into land. Wake Mikey up cuz once we're down, we're gonna need to get moving."
Climbing out of the plane which bobbed lazily on the shallow water next to a run-down wooden jetty, Fiona looked around at the vast overgrown wilderness. Picking up the canvas bag holding a large quantity of weapons, she followed the dark haired spy on to a narrow trail which appeared to be the only way out of the swampland.
"Well, this is nice," she quipped brightly, flicking a hungry mosquito off her arm.
"I tell ya, me finding this little dock was a piece of luck. Especially since I spotted what looked like a Visitors' Center a couple of miles that-a-way." With a wave of his hand, the former SEAL pointed vaguely in a northerly direction "We should be able to pick up a vehicle there and be back in Miami by nightfall."
"A couple of miles in this heat," Michael huffed. Shouldering his back pack, their leader set off at a fast march "That's great, Sam."
"Hey, a little bit of gratitude fella, would ya rather I'd landed this bird back on South Beach? I mean, it's not like we're being chased down by the CIA and a bloodthirsty megalomaniac, is it?"
Traveling at the blistering pace set by the stoic spy, the two mile walk didn't take long. The narrow path soon opened up on to a wider, official looking walking trail and from there they quickly came across a small parking lot only guarded by an unmanned information booth.
Fiona eyed up the cars, automatically dismissing the newer models as too hard to break into without the right tools.
"Keep a look out." Michael gave the order and then, before she had a chance to reply, he dropped his bag and picked up one of the larger stones which were scattered on the hard packed dirt.
"Michael! Wait," Fiona hissed chasing after the dark haired operative. But she was too late as the sound of breaking glass disturbed the peace and quiet of the backwoods.
"There was no need for that. You could have picked the lock," she accused, grabbing hold of his arm as he reached inside the shattered window to open the door.
"There's no time." He broke free of her grip and, with the door open, leaned inside the large SUV to clear the glass from the seat. "We have to act now before we lose our advantage."
"We need to slow down. You need to slow down. Do you want to get us picked up because you can't take a couple of extra seconds necessary to pick a lock?"
He shot her look filled with barely contained anger. "It's done. Let's just get going."
"C'mon, Fi," Jesse climbed into the back and began throwing the bags into the trunk space. "We've gotta couple of hours to work out the rest of the plan. I, for one, will be happy to quit being the main course at this bug buffet." To make his point, the younger man brought the flat of his hand down on the back of his neck.
Within minutes they were off, traveling along the Tamiami Trail heading eastwards towards Miami with Michael behind the wheel, Fiona in the front passenger seat and the two men in the back.
"So where do we find your friend with the inside track on satellite experts?" Michael asked.
Jesse looked ahead, using the rear view mirror to make eye contact with the older man sitting up front driving their "borrowed" Jeep Cherokee.
"Ray works for a media company just off Biscayne Avenue-"
"Biscayne it is then." The Jeep lurched forward, rapidly gaining speed, while the occupants inside began to discuss the details of who was going to do what once they reached their destination.
And the more they talked, the more Fiona's concerns began to grow as Michael refused to be drawn into how exactly they were going to use the location of James' communication center to free them from the CIA threat of a life time in prison or how their knowing where James' communication center was set up would make the smooth talking terrorist back off and leave them in peace.
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Tell me I'm frozen but what can I do?
Can't tell the reasons, I did it for you
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It only took slightly over an hour for the team to reach the outskirts of Miami. Abandoning the Jeep in the large parking lot in front of the Dolphin Mall, they exchanged it for an older model Ford extended cab pick-up before continuing on their way into the city and over to one of their old rally spots which they hoped had remained a secret.
"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Fiona asked as she and Michael broke the rusted chain holding the doors of the derelict building closed, which ten years earlier had been a thriving auto business.
"The night before Vaughan came after us," Michael answered without a pause.
He had told her before he remembered everything she had ever told him and all the things they had done to together and it was the truth. Late at night, or during the quiet times, especially in the last year, those memories were what had kept him going.
Slipping inside with their guns drawn, the couple swept the interior, making sure that in the passing years nobody else had been using their fall back spot as a home or a hideout.
"Yes, Vaughan and that damned thumb drive you were ready to blow yourself up to protect."
Her biting tone made the spy stop in his tracks and turn to face her. The sweep was a waste of time; one look at the dust covered floor and work benches told him nobody had been in the place for years.
"Fi, I -"
"Ooh, I know, Michael. The NOC list was important, a matter of national security and chasing down the people who burned you, you had to see it through to the end."
"Fiona…" He didn't want to do this, not again.
His eyes flickered upwards to the small office where they had spent that night together, wondering if it was going to be their last. Wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies joined together as they had silently made love for what they had suspected was going to be for the last time.
"I just want to know, was it worth it? Everything we've done, we've been through in the last seven years, d'ya think it was worth it?"
Did he think - his mind reeled over the heartache, the lives ruined and the deaths… Would he do it all again? Knowing what he knew now?
He half smiled and shook his head. "It's too late to go back, Fi," he answered softly.
"That's not what I asked." The tiny Irishwoman put her gun away and began to open the doors wider, so Sam could drive the truck inside. "I want to know if you believe it has all been worthwhile?"
"What do you want me to say? Would I change the way I did things? Yes, definitely, but bringing down Management and Anson, exposing their network… It had to be done, they were dangerous and a threat -" his words dried up as the pick-up truck came to a stop.
This was not a discussion he wanted to continue in front of the rest of his friends and, from the way his former lover was angrily securing the doors, now that she had once again rammed home her point, she didn't want to carry on the conversation either.
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When lies turn into truth, I sacrificed for you
You say that I'm frozen but what can I do?
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Jesse Porter shook the hand of his friend and business associate Ray Coltrane, and ran back towards where he had left Michael waiting in the Ford pick-up on a nearby side street. As he neared the vehicle, he slowed his pace as his thoughts turned from the thin folder he carried in his hand to the man staring out at him impatiently from the truck.
Mr Porter wasn't a fool and, though he hadn't known the damaged spy for as long as Sam and Fiona, it was plain to him that their mutual friend's mind was still stuck in the same dark place they had tried to rescue him from a few days earlier.
He knew the others had noticed it too. Fiona had been watching her ex-boyfriend as if she was waiting for him to disappear on her yet again and Sam, though hiding his feelings a bit better, couldn't completely mask his sadness and concern for his best friend's sanity. The realization that Michael Westen had become a traitor to his country had hit them all hard, but Jesse suspected it had hit the former SEAL hardest of all.
"How did you do?" Michael stuck his head out of the driver's side window. "Did you get a name?"
"Patience, dude," the younger man called back, quickening his step and pushing away all his doubts about his friend's currently loyalties. "Seriously, you're worse than Charlie when there's a chance of a strawberry cone coming his way."
Going around the truck, Jesse climbed into the passenger seat and took a couple of seconds to get comfortable and then opened up the file he had brought with him. "It took a bit of persuading, but my buddy came through in the end. He snuck me into the research office and we checked out all the top satellite guys in Miami and I think we hit the jackpot. Max Lister, contracts to the NSA mostly, but get this, a few months ago he took a leave from his firm to work on a special project and nobody knows what it was." He handed the older man the file to look through the rest of the details.
"James' communication center?" Michael asked as he quickly skimmed over the details of their target.
"Time frame fits perfectly. He's our guy, I'm sure of it. That's the good news. The bad news is the guy is a security nut. He lives in a gated community in the Gables and does most of his consulting out at a naval base in the Everglades."
Jesse waited as the older man scowled, his eyes closing just for a second.
"We'll hit him in transit," Michael finally answered.
"My thoughts exactly," the shaven headed man agreed, glad that it seemed they were still on the same page. "I took the liberty and called Sam and Fiona. They're already on it; they're getting supplies we need as we speak."
Michael nodded thoughtfully, a toothy smile growing as he handed the file back to his younger friend. Reaching under the steering column, Michael twisted the wires from the broken ignition together and started up the engine.
"This is great. We do this right and it'll all be over by tomorrow night."
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I can feel your sorrow
You won't forgive me,
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The plan they came up with was straightforward and simple. In the hours before dawn, Fiona and Michael took up position in the pick-up to watch the security gates protecting the homes where the satellite expert lived. Meanwhile, Sam and Jesse were getting set up out in the Everglades with spike strips to bring Mr. Lister's vehicle safely to a stop and shotguns to encourage the man to surrender and come along peacefully.
As soon as the satellite expert left for work, Fiona and Michael would tail him, keeping as far back as they could so as not to be detected and, at the same time, provide a running commentary for the two men waiting to spring the trap.
In the dim pre-dawn light, Michael Westen sat behind the wheel of the pick-up staring out of the side window in an effort to ignore the tiny auburn haired woman fidgeting in the passenger seat beside him.
Their plan was tactically sound, a tried and tested strategy used by extraction teams throughout the world. From what they had gleaned about Max Lister, he was just an incredibly smart technician. He had no military training and had never been in any trouble with the law.
Easy peasy, as Sam had put it.
But it wasn't how the troubled spy wanted to play things and the frustration of yet again following somebody else's orders had Michael thinking about what he had lost.
He had disappointed them all. They no longer trusted him and who could blame them? It surprised him that they had even bothered to try and rescue him from himself in the first place...
He sighed heavily, and rested his forehead against the cold glass.
He was a traitor to his country. He'd betrayed everything he believed in and he had done it all because he got lost in his cover. Even now he could still feel the pull of James Kendrick's logic. It was there, nagging in the back of his mind. He could have had a whole organization doing what he wanted.
They should have left him behind.
"Michael, I think we should use this time to talk."
This was why she had suggested they took this part of the job; she had him trapped in a small place with nowhere to run and no room to maneuvre ...
He blinked, half turned just long enough to briefly make eye contact with his former lover.
"Not now, Fi."
"I know you're upset. But Madeline is going to be fine."
"I'm sure you're right," he answered coolly and returned to surveying the empty street on the other side of the glass.
The spy wasn't going to be drawn into another useless discussion. Only a few hours earlier, his request that Jesse return to the cabin watch over his mother had been vetoed by Sam and Fiona, before the shaven headed former CIFA agent even had a chance to respond.
They had been leaning over a work bench in the derelict garage, studying a large road map of Southern Florida while Sam had laid out the route most likely to be used by their target and marked up the best ambush spots for their scheme to work.
"This looks like an easy snatch and grab. I've pulled off harder jobs all by myself," Fiona had airily proclaimed as they had finished working out the finer details of the ambush.
"Guys, it's so easy that I was hoping Jesse could go back to look after my mom." He'd held up his hand to stop the younger man's protests."She's all alone there with Charlie, and -" He'd turned to Jesse to make a direct appeal. "You were raised in Atlanta. You know your way around. That makes you the best one to get her over to my uncle's place outside the city."
"There's no need for that, Mike," Sam had replied evenly. "I knew you'd be worried about your mom and Charlie out there on their own, so I gave Jacques, that's the guy who headed our welcoming party, a call and he said there was no problem watching out for Maddy. In fact, he said his wife goes into New Orleans once a week to check on her mama, so your mom could travel in with them."
He remembered how he had gritted his teeth to stop the words which had wanted to come out of his mouth and instead had forced a smile. "I'd still feel happier if Jesse was there, you know, somebody I trust in case James or the CIA -"
"James isn't going to be looking for your mom," Fiona had chimed in. "And nobody is going to take any notice of a grandma and her grandson getting on a bus. We need Jesse here, helping us."
"Michael, this Lister person doesn't start work until eight. We have at least an hour until he comes through that gate." She gestured with a nod of her head towards a set of wrought iron gates which marked the entry to an upscale and highly security conscious neighborhood.
With a sigh, he finally faced her, twisting around awkwardly in the seat so he could look her straight in the eye. "We should concentrate on the job. Max could come out at any time. How about we save that talk 'til later?"
There was really nothing left to say.
"No, I want to know what's going on in your head."
The look in her eyes and the anxiety clearly showing in her expression almost broke through his defences, but not enough to sway him from his task.
"I know you're still hurting, it's written all over your face," she added, lifting a hand towards his cheek.
"I said I'm fine. Just drop it, please." The words came out in little more than a whisper. He was doing this for her, for all of them. Why did she have to make things so damn difficult?
"You're feeling guilty. You fell for James' lies. It's -"
"I said leave it, Fiona." He was not, could not do this now, not stuck in a small cab with her. He felt hot, breathless and with an undeniable urge to getaway.
He turned away, his hand fumbling with the door handle and then he stumbled out of the pick-up and on to the street. He was not going to explain himself any more. Blocking out all thoughts of his former team, the disgraced spy turned all his attention to the security gate and the high walls which were keeping him from his target.
As he marched away, the sound of the other door on the truck slamming shut and the light muffled pad of booted feet coming after him barely registered. He was too busy looking for a spot where to breach the perimeter of the gated community.
He came to a stop when a small but power packed fist hit him squarely between his shoulder blades.
"You screwed up and you feel bad. I get it, we all get it. But d'ya really think getting yourself killed is the answer?"
"I'm not -" He spoke as he turned and received another blow, this one to the side of his jaw.
"Shut up, I'm talking now." The Irishwoman grabbed hold of the front of his T-shirt and pushed him back against the wall. After taking a quick look to make sure nobody had noticed them, she then turned all her attention onto the man who stared back at her with cold blue eyes.
"When are you going to get it through your thick head that you matter?" she demanded angrily.
And when he opened his mouth to speak, he received a sharp jab to his stomach.
"I don't mean in some stupid operational, tactical sense. But you… You… Matter… To all of us, your friends and family…" She punctuated her words with more digs to his abdomen until he caught hold of her hand in his fist.
"I'm doing this for you..." He sighed and released his grip. Running his hand over his head, he went to walk away but stopped when he realized she wasn't going to let him go. "So, you don't have to risk your lives... I can do this by myself."
He watched warily, waiting for another blow or kick but instead she frowned and tenderly cupped his cheek, keeping her palm resting against his skin even when he attempted to flinch away.
"I forgot how dense you can be where relationships are concerned. Let me make this as simple as I can. You matter to your mom, though I admit at times she does a crappy job of showing it, but that's your mom. You matter to Charlie. You're the only man left in his life. Are you going to let him lose his father and his uncle? You matter to Jesse and to Sam. I shouldn't have to tell you this. They're your brothers, they're your family. They stood behind you even when..." She paused and bit her lip momentarily. "You owe them better than this."
He was losing himself in her words and in the stormy depths of her blue-green eyes. It would be so easy to fall back into relying on them all to help him out. It was that same feeling which had made him offer up Sam and Jesse's services to Burke and had later made him call his former lover and plead for her assistance.
"Fi," he smiled sadly, thinking of what could have been. "There's only one way out -"
She stopped his words with one finger over his lips.
"And I know I haven't been as supportive as I could have been, but you matter to me," she whispered and then took a deep breath, blowing it out on a sigh. "You matter more to me than my own life. If you need me to be alive and safe, why can't you understand that I feel the same way about you?... No matter what's happened between us." Another pause and another sigh... "You've left me so many times; you'd think I'd be over you by now. But I'm not and I'm never going to be. So please stop... stop running away from me and stop... Just stop."
()()
But I know you'll be all right
It tears me apart that you will never know, but I have to let go
()()
He leaned in, his arms moving of their own accord, one slipping around her shoulders and then other about her waist, drawing her against his body as his lips pressed firmly over her mouth.
Michael poured all his remaining love into that deep passionate kiss. When they finally broke apart, he stared at her with adoration, his blue eyes filled with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed and, with a heart wrenching moan, pushed her away and ran off, taking a leap to grab hold of the top of the wall and he was gone.
"Michael!" She couldn't believe what he had done.
Staring hopelessly at the ten foot high wall, Fiona realized there was no way she could follow him over unseen or unheard. Swiping away the tears of frustration that ran down her cheeks, the Irishwoman pulled out her cell phone, her hand shaking as she put in the call.
"Hey, Fi..." Sam's voice came through the ear piece.
"He's given me the slip," she gasped.
"What? How?"
"We were talking and then he was gone. He's gone over the fence. He's going after Lister on his own."
"Damn it, Fi, you had one job to do."
"Well, I messed it up, are you happy now, Sam? Just get back here. I can't watch the whole perimeter by myself."
Inside the gated community, a disgraced and guilt ridden spy moved swiftly and silently amongst the condos and houses until he found the one he was looking for. Inside was the man key to his plan to free his friends and end his near unbearable pain.
The lock on the garage took him less than thirty seconds and the alarm inside less than twenty.
Now he just had to wait.
()()
Tell me I'm frozen but what can I do?
Can't tell the reasons I did it for you
When lies turn into truth, I sacrificed for you
You say that I'm frozen, but what can I do?
Everything will slip way
Shattered peaces will remain
When memories fade into emptiness
Only time will tell its tale
If it all has been in vain
I can't feel my senses
I just feel the cold
Frozen...
But what can I do?
Frozen...
Tell me I'm frozen but what can I do?
Can't tell the reasons I did it for you
When lies turn into truth I sacrificed for you
You say that I'm frozen
Frozen...