A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and alerts for this story I appreciate each and every one. This was going to be the final chapter of this alternative ending to the Burn Notice saga. However I believe it deserves an epilogue, a chance to see how life turns out for all the characters. I hope you all agree.
An extra special thanks goes out to Jedi Skysinger who had to spend a lot of her precious time doing a beta on this mammoth chapter.
Lastly a short mention about mine and Jedi Skysinger's joint venture as Jedi's Pal. The next chapter of Life with Larry, will be the story of how Larry met a Navy SEAL called Sam Axe.
BEHIND BLUE EYES
Part Eight
Nothing Else Matters
So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters
"So, you still think staying behind was the right thing to do?" Jesse Porter stared past the two unfriendly looking Miami-Dade police officers who were standing guard over the survivors of the battle, which had taken place less than half an hour ago. "Cuz I gotta say, Sam, I'm not loving the stainless steel jewellery." He raised both arms and jiggled his handcuffed wrists to make his point.
"To be honest, I have a few reservations myself," the older man admitted. His eyes, just like those of his shaven headed counterpart, were firmly fixed on the lively conference taking place on the other side of the room between the police captain, who on arrival at the scene had taken charge, and one of the three uninjured members of Agent Strong's team, who was demanding that the nation's security trumped any minor jurisdiction issues Miami-Dade PD might have. "But somebody needed to stay behind to make sure these bastards don't try to hang all the blame on-. Oh, hel-lo." He gestured with his chin to draw the attention of his friend to the arrival of a whole new group of players.
"You know him?" Jesse asked, as a stocky, sandy haired man dressed in a sharp suit was leading a team of what had to be FBI agents across the room to join in the heated discussion.
"Yeah, we didn't part on the best of terms. I asked him for a favor awhile back and he ended up with more than a little egg of his face. But, as long as there's something in it for him, I should be able to talk him into listening to what I have to say."
The two men watched with interest as the newcomer took immediate charge of the situation by ordering the CIA agent to back down.
"What you and your friends are, Agent Schlesinger, is operating outside of your field of jurisdiction and as such you'll all be held by the FBI until this matter is settled," he called out loud enough to be heard by everybody in the room.
"This is a CIA case. You're interfering in a classified operation. Call my boss. That man…" The agent pointed to the blood soaked body lying nearby. "Is James Kendrick, he was an international terrorist we'd been chasing for-"
"That man," the federal agent answered stiffly, "was an American citizen and this is still the U. S of A, mister. Now, back the hell off... Get him outta my sight. Oh, and just so you know, I've already spoken to Langley and, as far as they're concern, and I quote, the CIA is unaware of any of its agents operating illegally inside the borders of the United States. So, don't expect any help from your bosses."
It was at that moment, as the senior FBI agent was gesturing for the CIA officer to be removed from his sight, that the man's eyes locked on to those of the two civilians standing amongst the other surviving combatants of the recent fire fight.
"Sam Axe..." He took his time doing a long slow sweep of the bomb damaged and bullet riddled room before raising his voice to make sure he would be heard by his one-time informer. "I shoulda guessed you'd be involved. Where's Westen and that girlfriend of his? I take it all this was their work?"
()()()()()
Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters
"Michael…"
He heard her soft call, but chose to ignore it. Instead he continued to stare out of the stolen car window as he tried to wrap his mind round what had just happened. Less than an hour ago, he had been prepared to sacrifice himself in the hope that his death would bring closure to the whole sorry mess which his last assignment for the CIA had turned in to. He had wanted to end it all. But he had failed because she had refused let him go. The woman, who had until recently taken every opportunity to pour scorn upon his head, had now declared her love for him.
"Michael, come on. Move it!" A hard jab to his ribs finally broke through the turmoil filling his head and got his attention.
"Ow! Fi-?" He opened the door and climbed out to join the petite red head, who after poking him in the ribs had moved to front of their stolen vehicle.
Once his Irish lover had brought his soul back to life with a sharp reminder of who they both used to be and the promise of who they could be in the future, she had dragged his ass back onto the street and together they had quickly located a suitable vehicle to aid in their escape.
How they had managed to avoid the police sent out to secure perimeter and the helicopters flying overhead searching for anybody fleeing the scene of carnage back in the Chronicle Building, he had no idea. But an hour after breaking through the service entrance of the former newspaper headquarters, they were now ten miles clear of the search area and back inside the abandoned workshop, which had become their home away from home.
"Fi... Fiona... What are we doing back here?" He gazed over to the work bench where the previous night they had plotted Max Lister's kidnapping, while he had been thinking about how he was going to slip away. "I am not leaving Sam and Jesse behind. This is all my fault. I have to go back and make things right."
She moved so swiftly that when her hands reached up and cupped his cheeks, he gasped in surprise.
"Stop it!" Her blue-green eyes flashed fiercely as her fingers cruelly held him in place. "Yer actin' like this whole thing is yar fault and I'm sick o' it." Abruptly the flame haired vixen let go of his face and then, using a pointed finger, jabbed him painfully between his eyes. "Any fool can see ya was left out in the cold without proper support, but that's all in the past. You need to move on an' do what we all agreed was the right thing to do. You have to hand over whatever intelligence it tis ya have hidden away... But this time only when ya have a deal we can all live with."
Mr. Westen took hold of her hands, entwining their fingers, letting her fiery passion for life strengthen his resolve to do the right thing for them all.
"I downloaded the hard drive from James' satellite link," he admitted. "It would be invaluable tool for anybody hunting down James' network. It's just who to hand it off to... Last time I saw Strong's boss, he was preparing to throw all of us into a deep hole. I – I don't trust -"
The Irish woman halted his words by invading his personal space, pressing her lithe body up against his as she stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss firmly on his lips.
"I know this is difficult for you, but who do you trust?" she asked as she stepped back again to give him room to think.
"You," he answered without hesitation.
"Thank you, Michael," Fiona smiled at his declaration. "But there must be somebody left in the CIA who you still believe in. You worked for these people for over twenty years. There must be one person left you trust to help you make a deal."
Michael swallowed thickly and looked away. There was maybe one. "Raines... Raines has the clearance. He played fair when I handed him Management, and Vaughn. He might be willing to help us."
"Another coincidence? It must be something about this place. Not only where we spent our last night together before the CIA whisked you away all those years ago, but now we have another thumb drive to trade too," she quipped.
It felt like his heart stuttered. A burning pain shot through his chest and he pulled her back into his arms. "This is nothing like before," he spoke quickly. "I swear… I'm doing this for you - for us."
The admission was torn from him. To open himself up this way broke the last chains forged by a life time of hiding his vulnerabilities.
Unwelcome images flashed into his brain…stepping off the private plane, which had carried him and Strong from the DR to the hurriedly set up field office on the outskirts of Miami, standing before the monitor screening the activity in Fiona's new home, doing his best to disguise his jealousy behind professional interest as he watched her exchange passionate kisses with another man, her new boyfriend.
He'd still had hope back then that it would be just like all the other times when he'd returned after disappearing without a word. An argument about his abysmal relationship skills followed by his profuse apology for being such a terrible boyfriend before they reconnected… until the next time he snuck away in the middle of the night to answer the call to duty.
But his first sight of her was quickly followed by his last memory of that particular day. Of her casual thank you for saving her life, followed by her calm dismissal, as with one light brush of her lips to his cheek, she had figuratively slammed the door in his face.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Fi? Cuz I don't know any more and I'm sick of getting things wrong."
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters
Wriggling in the tight embrace of the troubled spy, Fiona eventually managed to get her hands up against his chest and create a little space between them. She could feel his heart beating wildly under her palms as she held him at bay, determined to get him to concentrate on bringing his scattered emotions under control.
"I want what I've always wanted, Michael, you at my side and you wanting to be there... I've never hidden from you how much I hated your government work, the things they made you do. I never trusted their promises. That man Chambers, in Belfast, how many times did he nearly get you killed? Tom Card…" She spat the name out. "And Strong was just as bad, if not worse."
Fiona paused and sighed heavily, one look telling her this wasn't what he needed to hear just now. "I guess right now the thing I want most is for you to be clear in your head about what you want before you make contact with Raines and start making decisions for us all."
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
She watched and waited for him to make the next move, staring up and noting the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down while he gazed over the top of her head lost in thought. Then, at an almost glacial speed, Michael released her from his embrace and stepped back. And this time when he made eye contact, she could see a determined glint in the deep blue orbs.
But I know…
"We're not going to trade the thumb drive," the ex-spy announced firmly, holding up a hand when she went to voice her objections. "I'm going to contact Raines, and tell him exactly where to find James' satellite feed -"
"You're just going to hand over -"
"Yes Fi, I am, but if you'll let me finish… They're going to find it eventually, so it's better for us if we give them the location. But when I do, I'm also going to fill him in with all the details – the things Strong ordered me to do." He shook his head as if to clear away all the painful memories of the last year. "And then I'm going to tell him that unless he comes up with a deal which we can all live with," he parroted her words back at her. "I will take the copy I made of James' hard drive and I will start warning everyone on it that the CIA is coming after them."
"Michael!" She couldn't believe he was ready to go as far as to threaten the agency he had sworn allegiance to.
"It's a risk, I know that…" He let his hands fall heavily upon her shoulders, keeping her in place while he leaned forward so they were almost nose to nose. "But it's the only way, Fi. Nothing has changed. I am not giving anybody at the CIA the opportunity to use me again, not after Card, not after what Strong did to me…never again."
The hands which had been resting lightly on her shoulders had now tightened into a painful grip and an unsettling maniacal edge had crept into the voice of the troubled spy as he continued to rant.
"I served my country, I believed every word they told me, I did every dirty job they sent my way, and I was damned good at it... And how did they repay my loyalty?" The former covert operative let go of her abruptly, turning away to stalk across the dust covered floor to the work bench still holding the maps they had used to plot the satellite specialist route to work. "They believed the lies about me, they tossed me out in the cold and destroyed my life. They freed Simon to do their dirty work! They're just as corrupt as the people that burned me-"
"Michael, shhh…" Fiona followed him, tentatively reaching out to try to calm the man she loved before he spun completely out of control. "It's over, or it will be soon." She rubbed her hand up and down his back feeling the stiff muscles under the sweat stained T-shirt. "I need you; we need you to calm down. Your Mom, Charlie, Sam and Jesse, they're all relying on you. I'm relying on you too."
He perked up, turning to face her. "You're going to let me save you?" A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, softening the rest of his expression, which was incredulous.
"Aye, just this once, ya can be me white knight. But thot don' mean ya get ta run off by yarself tryin' ta protect me, protect us, and take it all on yar own back again." Her palm ghosted lightly over his cheek. "Ya need ta accept thot this damsel in distress carries her own supplies o' C-4 and she isn't afraid ta use it." His returned lover captured his face in both her hands once more, making sure she had his full attention. "We're a team, Michael. We plan together, we execute together and we save each other… together. Don't ever forget that again."
So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters
"Thank you, Fi." He revelled in her touch, using the moment to anchor his turbulent emotions and gain some control.
After taking a couple of deep breaths, Michael took hold of her hands and held them before him. "I suppose I should tell you the rest... Raines got a big promotion from bringing down Management and Vaughn. He's on the President's Advisory Board. Part of his job is to investigate and report illegal intelligence activities to the Justice Department and then brief the President... Raines will have to act. Strong was - well, you know what he was, or at least some of it."
"If this is true, you don't need to keep hold of that thumb drive..." As she spoke, he was shaking his head in denial. But the former guerilla continued to talk, determined to make him listen. "Threatening a-"
"James had people in all sorts of positions, in government, the intelligence services, private contractors… This is never going to be over, Fi. They will either try to force me back in to clean up their mess, or they'll kill me to cover it up. I know it... unless I stop them." He paused, releasing his hold on her hands. "What's on this thumb drive is our insurance. I'm finally putting an end to this. I thought I made that clear."
"Okay, okay." She was shocked at the level of anger and disillusionment pouring out of him. "If you need to do things this way, I trust you." Fiona fought briefly with him until he accepted her embrace. "I trust you. We all believe in you. Sam and Jesse stayed behind because they believe in you." Slowly he relaxed again, coming back to her. But she could sense the unbridled rage and suspicion bubbling just under the surface.
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
"I have to make a call, try to make contact with Raines, before Strong's bosses shuts it all down and paint a bull's eye on my forehead."
"Well, luckily, I still have my phone on me and a selection of unused SIMs. That was something else we organized while you were gone." She handed him her cell and watched expectantly as he keyed in a number.
"Hello? Put me through to William Raines. Tell him it's Michael Westen and I have some first-hand intelligence he needs to hear, right now."
But I know…
()()()()()
After the arrival of the FBI, things began to move fast for the three undamaged members of Strong's team and the two civilians caught up in the highly questionable actions of the rogue CIA operatives. As Special Agent in Charge Harris began to bark out orders, Sam and Jesse along with the others were transported in two SUVs over to the Federal Building and from there handcuffed to tables in separate interrogation rooms to quote "be kept incommunicado until somebody could sort out the CIA's latest little misadventure."
Having been left alone, sitting on an uncomfortable steel chair for close to two hours, Sam entertained himself by running through the various interrogation techniques he could expect to face. As a former SEAL who had been involved in more than a couple of dozen Q and A sessions, he considered himself an expert in these matters. It wasn't the methods he was concerned about. He was, after all, sitting in the Federal Building in down town Miami and not some cave hidden in the Afghan mountains. When the Feds got round to him, Mr. Axe knew there would be recordings of what was said and done during the interview. It was more how much he should spill.
"Mikey, I sure hope you're doin' the right thing out there," he muttered under his breath and just then the door swung open. In a louder voice, he greeted his old blackmailer.
"Hey, Harris, you seem to have done well for yourself. Look at you, a big chief now, instead of one of the Indians."
The two men eyed each other as Agent Harris dropped a set of folders down on the table between them and pulled up a chair. Unbuttoning his jacket and crossing one leg over the other, the man with the sandy blonde hair took his time getting comfortable until finally he was ready to begin.
"Well, well, Sam Axe... I heard after your last run in with those stuff shirts up in Langley you'd got yourself a rich sugar mommy and settled down. So what in the blue blazes were you and your friend Porter doing hanging out with a bunch of rogue spooks?"
Sam ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. This was tricky. He had no idea what Mike might be up to, though he did have faith that the little Irish leprechaun at his side would keep the unstable spy thinking straight.
The real experts in resisting interrogation aren't the ones who stonewall in silence. They're the ones who have mastered the art of talking about nothing, pretending to cooperate, throwing out endless leads.
"It's a long and complicated story, Harris," he answered with a long almost theatrical sigh.
"That's okay, Axe," Harris smiled back easily. "You're not going anywhere until I hear the whole sorry tale."
"Alrighty then," the former SEAL suddenly grinned. "How about a drink and a bite to eat while I talk? You know, just like the old days, a Cuban sandwich and a beer, just to lubricate the old vocal chords?"
Harris stared back stonily, his blue eyes boring into those of his prisoner as if he hoped to extract the information he wanted by the sheer power of his mind.
"Okay, I get it, playing hard ball." Sam's smile never slipped. "How far back do you want me to go? I mean to be honest, what happened today began about a year ago."
()()()()()
Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
The call had lasted less than ten minutes. He had been too wary to spend any long talking when he knew a trace would have been started as soon as he identified himself. Ten minutes trying to convince the man who had recruited him into the CIA all those years ago that it would be worth his time to find out what was going on within clandestine affairs and in particular with one rogue agent.
"Westen? Why the hell are you calling me?" were the words of greeting which had come from the phone.
"And hello to you too," He snapped back without thinking.
"I'm sure this isn't a social call, so what do you want, spit it out I'm kinda busy."
He had expected the anger and the palpable dislike in the older man's tone. Twenty years ago, William Raines and Tom Card had been a team of a sort. Raines the recruiter, handing over the best of his recruits to be trained by his good friend, Card. He also remembered how proud they had been of their star pupil for many years, garnering laurels themselves from the Agency for his accomplishments. That had ended when he had put a bullet between the other man's eyes.
"Yeah, Raines, I'm sure it's been hell keeping up with all the shadow organizations and rogue agents in the Company these days. So, let me make this easy for you. You need to check out what's happening in Miami. By now, the FBI should be investigating a shoot-out between two groups of heavily armed men and a series of explosions in an abandoned building down town. The man responsible is a CIA officer called Andrew Strong and this isn't the first time he has gone off the reservation. You know me, Raines, you know I'm no boy scout. But this, this is a whole lot more than bending a few rules."
"Slow down, Michael. Let me -"
"There is no time... I know you don't trust me any more and I know you're already running a trace, trying to track me down. But if you give me a chance and listen…Take look into what happened in Vera Cruz, Mexico last week. That was Strong, he was desperate to get a result and too rash to wait for the proper clearance. So he tried to pull off an unsanctioned extraction in the middle of the day. An entire street was shot up in full view of the locals, a team of mercs were killed, one whom was Simon Esher, an international terrorist, a killer. A man who was supposed to be in a CIA prison..."
Michael paused, the idea of Simon leading that extraction team still twisting in his guts.
"A week before that, on Tenerife, in the Canary Islands, Roger Steele, you've heard of him, right? The negotiator – the mediator... Strong knew the group I had infiltrated planned to assassinate Steele. I gave him all the details. He could have saved Rogers' life, but he refused to warn him or to pull him out... Roger had a lot of friends, Raines, and all those friends are out looking into what he was doing before he was killed and for the man he was on his way to meet. That's me, in case you're interested..."
Roger had been a friend… a friend still trying to help him when he'd put a bullet in his chest…
"And before that, in the DR, Marco Cabral was an MI-6 asset. The Brits were about to extract him, but he disappeared. Do I have to spell out for you what happened to him? You think our closest allies will just take that lying down? Or how about Biloxi Mississippi, a mental patient was removed from General Hospital, an American, a former Special Forces soldier, removed from a hospital to be interrogated by the CIA."
"That's a lot of accusations, Westen. But you know what the job is. If there's no direct evidence-"
"You think all of that will stay hidden? All it'll take is just one investigator to pull at a thread and this whole thing will unravel and become public knowledge... Is that what you want? You want to have to explain to the President that you knew all this but did nothing to stop it coming out? Or better yet, would you like to tell him you were completely ignorant AGAIN of what was going on inside the Agency? Of course, the easy way out would be just to blame me again. Only you can't burn me again, Raines. You can't sit back and wait for Tom Card to have me and my friends killed so he can keep running his dirty little secret black bag ops. Or maybe you'd like to spring Olivia Riley to do your dirty work? Just like somebody else did when they turned Simon Escher loose!"
It was only the soft hand on his shoulder and the gentle touch of lips grazing his cheek which calmed and centered him enough to return to the matter at hand. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"But I have something that might help. Send someone in to the Chronicle Building. Tell them to go up to the sixth floor, Room 615 and they'll find James Kendrick's communication relay station. There's a back-up hard drive holding enough intel to completely shut down his terrorist network before somebody else in the ranks steps up to take over. I'm giving you the key to-"
"Quit with all the mealy mouthed I-just-want-to-help BS. I do know you, Westen. You're no saint. I know you killed Tom Card and destroyed Olivia Riley's career. You wouldn't be telling me any of this if there wasn't something in it for you. You think this is going to erase your record? Get you back in the good graces of-"
"Never mind about me, my reputation couldn't get any blacker. You've all seen to that. It's the CIA who can't afford any more bad press, Raines. You really want to end up fielding questions from MI-6? Or what about all Roger Steele's friends? You're talking about all those intelligence agencies from all over the world who used him as an asset. And how are relations with the Mexican government right now? You think their going to be happy about hosting a CIA war? What's the CIA Director of the damned United States gonna do when he's sitting in front of his own Church Committee in Congress with you explaining that he sanctioned this whole sorry operation that yielded exactly squat. You've got nothing without the intel on Kendrick's organization"
"You think you can try to blackmail your way out of this again?"
"I'm giving you everything you need to clear up a mess made by one of your agents. James Kendrick's network spanned the world. You start pulling the names of his operatives off that hard drive and all those countries pissed at the CIA will start coming around when you can pinpoint Kendrick's operatives working in their governments and intelligence agencies. As for saving the CIA's ass, all I want in return is a guarantee that me and my friends are left out of it all and left alone for good. It's a win-win for everyone. You can to be the hero and you never have to hear from me again."
"Michael, if you think that-"
"This isn't a request, Raines. I want out! My friends and family are kept safe or I take the copy I made of the hard drive and start making calls, letting the people on there know they need to run..."
He stopped and drew a harsh breath in through his nose, letting the threat sink in fully.
"Strong wanted the old Michael Westen, the one who got things done. Well, he's here now, the unstoppable sonuvabitch you recruited, the relentless bastard Tom Card trained and the stone-cold killer you all keep asking for... I'll call you back in six hours. Six hours is enough time to check out what I've given you and come up with the guarantees I want. After that, I start making phone calls."
He ended the conversation there, Fiona tapping on the face of her wristwatch reminding him that his time was up.
"We have to go." Even as he spoke, he was pulling the phone apart, removing the battery and the SIM.
"Come on, Michael. Just leave the whole phone, I have more." Fiona was already at the door, her gun in her hand, peering out through a gap in the rotten wood.
"They couldn't have gotten here that quickly... not with the trace and then getting a team together."
Michael joined her, pulling the door open wide and stepping outside, his mind still reeling at the enormity of what he had just done. If Tom Card and Larry Sizemore had been father figures, William Raines had been a benevolent and beloved uncle.
"How about the FBI or the police? We have every branch of law enforcement tracking us down at the moment." His forward progress was halted by a slender hand taking a tight hold on his arm. "So, slow down and think before you go chargin' off."
"Okay, I'll slow down, but can we get going?"
"Follow me," she ordered and then, just before she set off, she slapped his arm. "Stay close, no wandering off."
Regardless of Fiona's previous comment, they ran swiftly through the abandoned industrial area until they reached a quiet parking, lot where they found yet another car to steal.
"You keep watch," the ex-terrorist ordered as she bent down to pick the lock. "See? Less than twenty seconds and I'm not going to be sitting on a load o' glass."
She slid into the driver's seat and set about breaking the steering lock and bypassing the ignition switch. "Care to join me?"
With the engine running, Ms. Glenanne leaned over and opened the passenger door for him.
Driving within the speed limits and using streets with no traffic cameras, it took nearly an hour to make it to a storage locker she had hidden away in Little Haiti. "We should be fine here until you call Raines back. I've not used this place for over two years."
"Good." Michael wearily slid down the wall, ending up sitting on the cold concrete with his legs splayed in front of him.
"Hey, are you okay?"
He watched through half open eyes as she closed the door and joined him.
"Yeah, I think so." He chewed on his bottom lip as she waited patiently for him to continue. "I – I've never -"
"We're free, Michael," the Irishwoman whispered in his ear. "I know it's scary for you. But we get to live our lives how we want to."
"The difference between living and living free," the ex-spy finally answered, his mind dragging the memory of their last few hours in a Derry hotel room to the fore.
"You remembered." She wriggled closer, lifting his arm so it draped over her shoulder and allowed her to wrap her arms about his waist.
"I told ya befer, luv, I remember everythin' yar ever tol' me." He kissed the top of her head, nuzzling her unbrushed mane of red-gold hair taking in the scent of gunpowder and explosives. L'parfum de Fiona….
"Good, you can remember this then." The petite woman shifted position again, now straddling his legs, his hands on her thighs while her own rested on his shoulders. "From now on, there's you and me and nothing else matters." She leaned forward to place a gossamer soft kiss to his lips, her fingers beginning to gently massage the tension from his shoulders and neck. "We can do whatever we want, go wherever we choose." She peppered his mouth with more kisses, until he held her tight and captured her lips with his own.
Deepening the kiss, their teeth crashing together until they surrendered to each other and their tongues danced and swirled. All too soon, he drew back and eased her around so she was sitting on his lap, her head tucked under his chin.
"You and me and nothing else matters," Michael repeated her words back to her, his voice laced with fatigue.
She didn't reply. With one hand over his heart, she waited in silence until his heartbeat slowed and then slowly freed herself from his embrace. As she got to her feet, Fiona saw he was watching her, his blue eyes wide but unfocused.
"Go ta sleep, Michael. I'm gonna keep watch."
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters
()()()()()
Sam had been held in the small interrogation room, handcuffed to the table with no food or drink for over four hours. He had hoped when Harris had been called from the room a little over an hour earlier that somebody would have thought to feed the prisoner. But no, Sam's stomach groaned and whined at the lack of attention and the ex-SEAL, not for the first time, scowled angrily at the locked door and tried to get his mind off the selection of Krispy Kreme donuts he had made Jesse stop to buy for breakfast on their way out to set up the aborted ambush in the Everglades.
Using his arms as a cushion, Sam laid his head down on the table and closed his eyes. If they weren't going to feed him and they didn't have any more questions for him, he was going to take the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep.
"Hey, Axe, get your head off the table." Harris was back in the room, his grim set features had the sleep fuddled former sailor wondering what had happened.
"Huh?" was all he managed as when he tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes and one wrist was stopped short with a harsh jerk.
"You're free to go." The blond agent gestured with a nod of his head for his subordinate to step forward and release the prisoner.
"Free? Okay, not that I'm ungrateful, but why?" Had Mikey handed himself in or been captured and was now taking the blame solely on his shoulders again?
"The order came from higher up the food chain. All you have to do is sign this..." A thin folder landed on the table before him along with a pen. "And you can walk outta that door."
Sam flicked the cover back and found a single sheet of paper inside. "Looks like a pretty standard non-disclosure agreement." He began to read the details and, by the time he had reached the bottom of the page, he was frowning. "I have to stay within the City of Miami? For how long?"
"Just sign the damn paper, Axe, some us still have work to do," Harris answered impatiently.
"Can you at least tell me-"
"I only know what I was told. The order came down to get you to sign this agreement and get you out of the building. Go spend some time with that rich girlfriend of yours and stay out of trouble."
Knowing he wasn't going to get any more information from the blond man, the former Navy man made his signature with a flourish and handed the folder and pen back to Agent Harris.
"Sam," Harris spoke one last time as the dark haired man went to rush past. "Take my advice, stay out of FBI or CIA business. You or Porter interfere in an ongoing investigation and all deals will be off."
Sam nodded solemnly. He had no idea what had just happened. But somebody had made the FBI back off and he could think of only one man who could have done it.
()()()()()
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Michael sat on a folding chair Ms. Glenanne had produced from the back of her storage locker, staring at the cheap burner cell phone also supplied by the redhead, which was resting on the upturned wooden crate that had been procured from the alleyway running between where they were hiding and the boarded up building next door.
"It's been six hours, Michael." She sat down on another chair facing him over the make shift table. "We need to know how bad things are going to get. If we're gonna have to break Sam and Jesse out of a federal prison, I'm gonna need to get me hands on some more C-4."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he mumbled softly and lifted the phone, testing its weight before keying in the number.
"It's Michael Westen for William Raines. I believe he's expecting my call." Michael put the phone on loud speaker and placed it back on the wooden surface. When he saw the way she was looking at him, he felt the need to explain. "Together, remember? You said we're in this together."
"Westen... It looks like you landed on your feet again. I always said you were like a cat, though I think this time you've used up what's left of your nine lives." Raines' voice came through loud and clear, focusing the couple's attention on the phone rather than each other.
"I take it we have a deal then?"
"Sam Axe and Jesse Porter have been cleared of any wrong doing and have already been released from federal custody. They have both agreed to keep quiet about Agent Strong and any assistance they may have given to the CIA... Is Miss Glenanne with you?" The older man was all business.
"You're on loudspeaker, she can hear you," Mr. Westen answered, his hand reaching across the table to take her hand.
"Miss Glenanne, you, just like Axe and Porter, have been cleared. It was noted in your file that you resisted in aiding Agent Strong and it was only after he visited you in a Miami holding cell that he'd put you in that you agreed to work with him. As such, once you have signed a non-disclosure document, you are free to do whatever it is you do."
"And my mom, Strong was threatening to-"
"Your mother is of no interest to the CIA, likewise your nephew. But now we come to you, Michael. Our analysts in the Miami office have only just begun to go through that hard drive, but they have already pulled off a couple of important names. People who are positions to do a lot of damage... And that has earned you the gratitude of the Agency. But that doesn't pardon you from the things you've done. What the CIA is offering you is non-negotiable, a take it or leave it deal."
"Get to the point, Raines," Michael sighed.
"Fine and, for the record, it's not my gratitude but that of the Company. As a thank you for this and other work you have done for your country, the CIA is offering to expunge your record, clear your reputation and offer you your full pension and a protection package. In return for that generosity, all the Agency wants is the copy you made of the hard drive and for your signature on a guarantee that you will stay out of Florida and not make contact with Porter or Axe."
"You want me to hand over my only piece of leverage?" the former covert operative came to his feet. "And if I say no?"
"Your friends and family are in the clear, nothing will change that. But you, if you refuse to hand over everything you have on Strong or on the mission, including that thumb drive, your name will be at the top of all the watch lists. Think about it, Michael. Trust me when I say the Agency doesn't want to hear from you ever again, any more than you want to hear from us. Don't do anything stupid."
"And not contacting my friends? Why -"
"It was the one thing Strong got right at the beginning. Keeping you separated from the ragtag team you've built up. Ms. Glenanne can either go with you or be left behind in Miami. But the Agency will not allow you to continue operating the network you've built up over the last seven years."
"Michael..." Fiona was in front of him, her hand cupping his stubble covered cheek. "It's so close to what we want." She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "You don't have to trust him. Trust who we are... Together."
He nodded; she was right. He didn't completely trust the CIA, but he wasn't a traitor either. "Okay Raines, you can have everything. How are we going to do this?"
"I take it you don't want to do things the easy way and walk into the Federal Building, sign the papers and hand over the drive?" Michael could see Raines' exasperated expression in his mind's eye. It almost made him smile…almost… "So where do you want to set up the hand over. We don't have long. We want to jump on Strong as soon as he's well enough to answer questions."
"Strong's alive?" This was news. Neither of them had said it, but they had both thought the CIA officer had died from his wounds.
"Yes, he got out of surgery a couple of hours back. The surgeons at Mercy say he's going to make it. But by the end of this inquiry, I guarantee he is going to wish he hadn't."
I cannot get captured again. The softly accented words echoed in the dark haired man's mind as if he was hearing them from far away. He swallowed and glanced up guiltily at the woman who had stolen his heart. But another woman's voice still whispered in his subconscious. They tortured me for two solid weeks and I held out. I can't do it again. And if I break, we lose everything and I won't betray my friends.
"How about we do the trade at the hospital?" he announced to the surprise of the redhead who was watching him closely.
"You want to do this inside a hospital?"
"Plenty of people about, lots of exits and like you said, Raines, you know me. You know if I smell a trap- Well, let's just say a fire fight in the middle of a hospital would be hard to explain, especially when you're getting everything you want. Besides I want to see Strong. I want to be the one to let him know what he's facing."
"You were never vindictive, Michael. Why now?"
"People change, Raines. I've changed. We do the trade at the hospital in two hours and I get to see Strong afterwards."
"In one hour and you have a deal."
"Fine, give me the details. Where do I meet your guy?"
()()()()()
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters
"Tell me again why you agreed to meet up with Raines' operative inside a busy hospital? It's going to be a tactical nightmare covering you, if I can cover you." Fiona was almost jogging to keep up with the dark haired former spy's long strides as they made their way through along a path through a small park on their way towards a parking lot at the other end.
"Because I want a chance to say goodbye," came the cryptic reply.
"Goodbye? To Strong? Oh, Please, why would you want to waste your time on him?? You didn't even know he was alive until-" His lithe companion nearly crashed into him when he came to a sudden stop.
He had known it was foolish, trying to keep secrets from the one person who knew him better than himself.
"I'm not going there to say goodbye or to gloat." He took a deep breath and then, looking anywhere but into her blue green eyes, he made his confession. "I – I want to find out where the CIA is holding Sonya -"
"And why would you want to see that bitch?" Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her right hand forming a tight fist.
Not wanting a fight, especially in the middle of an open space, Michael went for the only other option and caught her up in his arms, holding her close in a very public display of affection, stopping her words and belaying the soon to be flying fists with a kiss. "She's -"
"Your lover," the Irishwoman snapped back, breaking his hold and stepping away.
"Can we not do this now? What I... I thought you had moved on. You were living with someone. That day... that day at Carlito's when you said... you told me it was already over... for us. I just – I – I had a job to do. She was a means to an end... but that's in the past."
"So why is she so important to you now?" Her angry eyes narrowed in a display of jealousy which at another time he might have found interesting. But not now, when their chance of a life together was so close.
"You heard what Strong said." He inched closer, ready to duck and block if any one of her lethal appendages came at him, hoping the tiny spitfire could empathize with what he wanted to do. "She fought right to the end. They have her in Intensive Care. If she's as bad as he made out... If she's that bad... She once said to me... Nobody should have to exist like that." He was so relieved when she got his meaning. Her hand, no longer being held as a weapon, settled over his heart and the look of jealousy fell away.
"I'll help you, Michael. I'll do it for you."
She pushed down her feelings for the younger blonde woman, who had nearly succeeded in destroying her lover's soul. If saying goodbye to the cold-hearted bitch meant her soul mate could move on, she could put away her feelings and help him.
Michael leaned down and kissed her tenderly, always more comfortable showing her how he felt than talking about it. His lover returned the affection, knowing that they had both hurt in each other deeply over the past year.
"Look, we don't have a lot of time left before you have to hand over that drive..." she said, breaking the embrace. "You go ahead and meet up with Dixon. I have to make a couple of phone calls."
She saw his questioning look and continued. "While you were in the DR, I did a job with Carlos; a nurse who works at Mercy was having problems with an ex-boyfriend who refused to get the message they were over. She owes me a favor. I'm going to call her and see if she can find out if there is a Russian cyka in ICU being watched over by lots of heavily armed men. That way if your old girlfriend is there, maybe my friend can help you get into see her."
He nodded and sighed. "Thank you, Fi."
"Don't thank me yet, not until you make it out of that hospital in one piece. Now go get that NOC list copied and hidden away while I trace Sonya's whereabouts."
()()()()()
Never cared for what they say
"He's in there... Mister Raines said you could have five minutes... I'll wait out here."
The middle-aged expressionless agent dressed in an immaculate and expensive dark-colored suit held the door open to a small side room on the third floor of Mercy Hospital.
"Thank you, Agent –? Sorry, I don't remember getting your name."
"No, you didn't. You're eating into your five minutes, sir." The agent kept up the same poker face he had worn ever since they had met inside the foyer of the hospital.
Walking into the room, Michael took in the line of monitors beside the bed and the spiders web of wires which went from the machines to the pale looking figure lying in the bed.
Fiona had already managed to discover the location of the CIA's high value prisoner and was hopefully working on clearing him a path to the room. But that didn't mean he didn't have a few questions for the senior field agent.
Reaching the bed, he rested his hands on the safety rail and leaned forward so he could be face to face with the man whose obsession with Randall Burke, and then James Kendrick, had nearly destroyed his soul and turned him into a traitor.
"Mi-kal... Mi-kal, wha', what are you – doing here?" the older man's voice was weak and rough from the effects of the ventilator he had been on a few hours earlier.
"I was given permission to see you." He used his professional "trust me" smile. "I was – concerned you were going to die, that bullet... What made you move in on Kendrick like that, without securing your prisoner?"
"I guess I was... It meant a lot to me, finally getting him. I guess I forgot how dangerous he was."
"You said something, something about Ferguson?"
"James had him killed. He was a diplomat in Sweden... I always thought it was Randall Burke," he smiled wearily and reached out for the hand gripping the rail. "Thank you... I thought... I thought you had turned against the agency, I'd reported... Never mind, I'll tell them it -"
"It's been cleared up." Michael moved his hand out of the way, not even wanting to feel the other's touch. "So who was he, the man whose death sent you on a decade long quest?"
"My best friend, my only friend. We went to high school together and law school. He went into the diplomatic Corps, I joined the Agency."
All this had been for one man's revenge and he didn't even know why his friend had had to die.
The ex-spy shook his head sadly. It was time to break the news to the disgraced and incompetent Agent Strong.
"You're done, pal," he leaned in close so nobody listening in would be able to hear what he had to say. "You give new meaning to the word despised. In addition to your impressive list of felonies, you disrespected and brought into disrepute the greatest intelligence agency in the world. The CIA, the NSA, NCTC, everybody, every intelligence organization, will be calling for your head on a pike... Which means you get to look forward to spending the rest of your life in a dark hole."
"What? What are you saying?" Strong reached out, his arm flailing weakly as he tried to grab hold of the man before him.
But Mr. Westen easily brushed the hand away. "You're the one who wanted the old Michael Westen back. You should be thanking Fiona Glenanne right now. If it wasn't for her and Sam and Jesse, the old Michael Westen would have ended you weeks ago... Enjoy what's left of your life, Agent Strong." He turned away and without a backward glance left the room and followed Raines' lackey through the hospital corridors and back out on to the street.
()()()()()
Never cared for games they play
Dressed in a set of hospital scrubs, with the blue cotton hat pulled low over his ears and brow hiding his dark hair, and with a face mask concealing his features, Michael walked confidently along the empty corridor following the directions he had memorized from his short talk with Fiona's former client, Nurse Katrina Newark, when she had opened a door to the hospital which was normally kept locked at night.
"I'm going to be waiting for you outside the main entrance. We'll make a big show of driving off... Where did you tell Raines we were going?"
Fiona had managed to get her former client on side and also had the beginnings of a plan by the time he had finished with Sam's computer genius buddy, Dixon. Now when he handed Raines' operative the thumb drive, he could be confident if he ever needed some leverage he had it, encrypted and safely stored away in the hands of their mutual friend Barry Burkowski.
"New Orleans... We'll have to head out that way to pick up my Mom and Charlie," he had answered her query.
"So we let Raines' surveillance team follow us for a while and then give them the slip and head back here. Katrina is working the night shift. So she can sneak you in through a back door which is normally kept locked over night. I also talked her into distracting the guards on the door to Sonya's room for you. She doesn't normally work in that part of the hospital. But she says she can borrow one of the other nurse's IDs. You'll only have a few minutes for your goodbyes, so no hanging around and getting yourself captured."
The redhead gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Jus' remember thot if I have ta break ya out o' prison, Am gonna totally kick yar arse when I get me hands on ya again," had been her parting words as he walked off to hand over the thumb drive and get his meeting with Strong.
Reaching the corner before the last short straight stretch to his goal, Michael paused, his ears straining as he caught the sound of a soft feminine voice followed by the two masculine ones replying. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to walk towards the trio, only letting the breath out as the guards followed the young woman towards the nursing station at the other end of the room.
"I am so sorry about this. I know you have a job to do. I don't know what possessed me to think I could carry all this equipment at once...If you guys could just help me lug these over to the nurses station, it would be a big help. It won't take a minute, I promise."
Silently sliding into the room, the ex-operative went straight to the side of his former asset. Or had she been his handler? He was still a little confused about where they had actual stood. She looked small and terribly fragile, like a broken doll lying completely still, her chest rising and falling in time with the whooshing noises coming from the ventilator beside the bed.
He knew about her injuries. Fiona had gotten the details from her former client. A third of her brain damaged beyond any hope of repair, unlikely to ever regain consciousness. A shattered pelvis, broken ribs, a collapsed lung and a bullet damaged left arm, which would if she survived her injuries need amputating... Her body had become her prison instead of metal bars.
Never cared for what they do
Michael blinked away a tear. He hadn't loved her. There had been times when he hadn't even liked her. But Sonya Lebendenko had earned his respect and, over the months they had been together, he had grown fond of the young woman.
Leaning over, he put his mouth next to her ear. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I didn't plan on things ending this way. I – I can only do one thing for you."
He leant in further as if to press a kiss to her forehead, a final farewell, but stopped himself. There could be no evidence he had ever been in the room. Standing back upright, he checked his watch. He had barely any time left.
Staring at the machine which was keeping the young woman alive, the dark haired former spy swiped a hand over his eyes, trying to rid his mind of all his memories of the young woman he was about to kill. He remembered her smile, her sadness at never getting to visit Rio, her curiosity about what it meant to have a relationship.
He reached out, turning off the alarms and then, going to the back of the machine, he opened the service panel and pulled a couple of the wires before screwing the panel shut. Raines would suspect, but there would be no actual proof as long as he wasn't caught.
He waited only long enough to witness Sonya Lebendenko take her last soft sighing breath before leaving the room in the same manner he had entered. Dashing back along the corridor, through a fire door and then up several flights of stairs to the roof top.
Never cared for what they know
"Is it done?" Fiona demanded as she helped him out of the scrubs and into thick leather pants and a matching jacket.
"She's gone," he confirmed. The dark haired man held a palm to her cheek, staring into her eyes, not knowing what to say, saying thank you with his misty blue eyes, grateful for everything she'd done for him, for saving him.
"Good..." this lover declared firmly and he gasped as she zipped him into his new attire. "Then let's be gone, befer they come lookin' fer us."
She led the way across the roof to where two climbing ropes hung off the side of the building.
"Ladies first," the truly former spy grinned at her as he handed her a set of thick gloves.
"Together, Michael, always together." She refused to move until he had on his own gloves on and they left the roof top side by side, rappelling down as fast as they could.
At the bottom, Fiona gave both ropes a hard shake and they slithered down. Gathering up the ropes she stuffed them into the saddle bags of her waiting motorcycle, while Michael was pulling on the crash helmet hanging off the handlebars of the second powerful machine.
Then with her own headgear in place, they rode away the engines of the two large powerful sportsbikes carrying them towards their new lives.
And I know...
()()()()()
A month had passed, a long boring month where nothing happened and life slowly got back to pre-Michael Westen normal. Sam spent his most of his days out by the pool at either the Star Island mansion or in the VIP area of the Chadwick Hotel.
"Mr Axe?"
Sam opened his eyes and squinted up at the uniformed pool boy standing smartly at the side of the sun lounger. "Hey Edgar, what's up?" He made the point of knowing all the hotel staff by their first names.
"This letter was delivered to the front desk. It's marked urgent."
Sitting up, Sam swung his feet on to the the decking and took the preoffered plain white envelope. "Did they say anything else?"
"No, just some young guy came in and said he'd been paid to hand this to reception."
"Uh-huh." The older man carefully opened one side and tipped out the contents into his hand: a plain white card business card with neatly printed script on one side.
Audubon Indoor Gun Range
New Orleans, LA
Owned and Operated by
Daniel Germaine & Josephine St. Claire
He eagerly turned the card over, hoping to find a phone number and was disappointed when he realized there was none. "Well, it's first contact I suppose," he muttered, reaching for his cell.
Mr. Porter had been kept very busy by Securicorp since his return to work. His employers had been very understanding over their star employee's sabbatical working for the CIA. But now he was back and there was a lot of work waiting for his skill set, work he was expected to be there to perform.
The two men had only managed to meet up once a week for a Mojito and a beer at Carlito's. Looking at the card again, Sam decided this bit of news couldn't wait another four days.
"Hey Jess'. Think you can get away from the office for a couple of hours?"
"I'm pretty busy, Sammy. Can it wait until tonight?"
Mr. Axe turned the business card over in his fingers a couple of times. Four hours was better than four days…
"Yeah, sure…"
"Something wrong, Sam?"
The older man sighed. "Naw… just never thought I'd miss getting shot at..."
"Hey, man, I can arrange that if it would help."
Sam chuckled. "No, thanks anyway, Jesse. Elsa probably wouldn't appreciate it."
"Same table, same time…?"
The ex-SEAL took one more look at the little white slip of cardboard, wistfully wishing his friends a happy life, before stuffing it into his shirt pocket.
"Okay, brother, see you then. But just remember, fella, it's your turn to buy the mojitos.
So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No nothing else matters