Disclaimer: I have only borrowed the song "It's Good To Be Alive." Sung by Skillet & Written by Tom Douglas, Zachary David Malloy, & John Cooper. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: At last, the final chapter of my story of what could have happened if Sam, Jesse & Fiona's plan to grab Michael on the bridge had worked. Thank you for all the reviews, favs and alerts for this story and for the PMs asking for me to hurry up and post this last chapter. Sorry I have kept you all waiting so long.
In other news, I will be posting more chapters of all my uncompleted stories very soon and of course continuing to co-write "Be Brave Little Angel" as Jedi's Pal with my very talented friend, Jedi Skysinger. Jedi Skysinger is also regularly posting new chapters of her brilliant "Season 7 Song Book" which I can thoroughly recommend you take the time to read.
BEHIND BLUE EYES
It's Good To Be Alive
Epilogue
()()
When all you got are broken dreams
Just need a second chance
And everything you want to be
Gets taken from your hands
We hold on to each other
All we have is all we need
'Cause one way or another
We always make it you and me
()
"Au revior, mes chers! Bon voyage!" Josephine St. Clair sang out as she stood on the door step of her large family home, her slender arm raised in a wave as the two most important men in her life drove away in the black Jeep Cherokee which had been supplied along with their luxury house and the lucrative business by the CIA.
Once the slow moving vehicle was out of sight, the auburn haired faux Frenchwoman dropped her arm to her side and retreated inside the cool of her air-conditioned home to get ready for the rest of her day.
Ten months ago, if anyone had told her that one day she would witness Michael Westen willingly climb into his car and take a four year old off for a haircut, she would have laughed in their face and told them they were crazy.
She would have told them how she had spent the best part of a decade and a half wishing the dedicated spy with a one track mind could find room in his heart for more than just the sacred call of duty to his beloved country until she had finally come to the conclusion that she was fighting for a lost cause and had done her best to move on.
A new house, a new business, a new man... Carlos... She blinked away the memory of her younger lover and partner in bounty hunting.
But in the last eighteen months, things had changed more than she had ever thought possible. When Michael had first returned to Miami, she had been forced to watch from the side lines as the man she still loved, even though he annoyed the hell out of her, came close to destroying himself. In the end, she had been unable to stand back any longer and along with his friends had taken matters into their own hands.
Those first few months after they had broken Michael free of James Kendrick's influence and he'd been forced into accepting living under the protection of the CIA had been hard on them all. While she had done her best to curb her own frustrations over her lover's former employers continued interference in their lives, Michael had been a paranoid mess.
When he wasn't prowling around the house searching for hidden surveillance equipment or staying up all night to guard against any of the multitude of enemies who might be hunting them down, he was at their gun range emptying magazine after magazine into paper targets. When he did sleep, he tossed and turned all night as he was haunted by the demons lurking in his subconscious.
But slowly, bit by bit, the ex-operative had begun to relax and acclimate to their new life together.
Reaching the hallway which led from the living area to the bedrooms at the back of the house, Fiona paused to pick up two dinosaur models laying on the floor. Carrying them the short distance to her adopted nephew's room, the former paramilitary opened the door and surveyed the abandoned toys spread out over the carpet.
Of course, it hadn't only been the tightly wound spy who had had to learn a different way of living, especially after Madeline had dropped the equivalent of a bomb on their heads.
At first, Charlie had been shy and quiet, much the same way he had been when his grandmother had taken custody of him back in Miami. However, that quiet had only lasted as long as it took the four year old to discover he was safe, loved and had two unprepared adults at his mercy. With a light chuckle, Charlie's Auntie Fifi tossed the two dinosaurs onto his bed and stepped back out of the room.
Though she had regularly visited Madeline and Charlie back in Miami, she'd never truly appreciated how much mess a small child could produce in a short time. It was certainly giving her a new level of respect for what she and her six siblings must have put their poor mother through.
Still smiling, Fiona glanced down at her watch and then quickened her step. Over sleeping and then having to convince the little hell raiser that if he wanted to go with his Uncle Dan to get a haircut he needed to put on the jeans and T-shirt she had picked out for him was making her late for the meeting she had arranged for this morning.
()()
This life could almost kill ya
When you're trying to survive
It's good to be here with ya
And it's good to be alive
()
"You look beautiful, mon amour."
Mrs. Adelaide Germaine-Devereaux smiled, her lips parting in a sigh as she tilted her head to the side to allow the white haired man standing behind her access to her neck while he laid several light kisses from her ear down to her shoulder.
"Hen – Henri, we have to – Henri, we're already late." Unable to resist her new husband's advances any longer, the woman who had been Madeline Westen turned away from checking out her appearance in the mirror to sink into the arms of the man of her dreams.
And that was precisely what the retired shrimp fisherman was to the woman who up until her arrival in New Orleans had been renowned for her bad taste in men. From their first meeting when he and his cousin had found her and Charlie on the verge of passing out after she had injured her knee while hiding out in a remote region of the Louisiana delta right through their whirlwind courtship and even after their discrete marriage ceremony officiated by another of Henri's cousins, this new man in her life had been a complete gentleman. Her own white knight, riding to her rescue and showering her with nothing but love.
"Oh, Henri," Madeline gasped as they finally broke apart. "We, we really must be going. It's a two hour drive out to that airfield and we -"
"We cannot be late for Daniel's friends. I know, I know, but how can I help myself, cher, when you look so magnifique?"
Things had moved so fast between them, even with Michael's best efforts to throw cold water over their affair, nothing had been able to cool the fire and for once Mrs. Westen had actually been glad that the CIA was there watching over them all.
"We don't know anything about him. I'm sorry, ma, but it's not safe. You should let him down gently now before things get serious."
"I'm not an idiot, Michael. I know exactly how serious things are... But we have a real connection." It was then she had put an end to all of his well-worn arguments with one succinct sentence which her son couldn't dispute. "Besides your friends in the CIA have done a thorough background check on him and his family and they don't have a problem with my new friend."
It had been funny to watch as her son had tried to come up with an answer after her revelation and it had felt good when he had finally smiled at her and nodded his head in surrender.
"If he's the one, then fine, go for it... But I still think you're moving too fast."
"Oh, please, Michael, we don't all have the luxury of time," she'd snorted. "Maybe you should take a page out of Henri's book and try to be a bit more romantic. You know, it wouldn't hurt you to do something nice for Fion – Fifi once in a while."
That conversation had happened six months ago, when her only living boy had still been living in the midst of a paranoid nightmare, seeing James Kendrick's henchmen in every shadow, questioning her lover's motives whenever the opportunity arose and generally acting like an ass... Right up to two months ago when he had surprised them all by finally popping the question to the woman of his dreams.
"Enough now, you're messing up my hair. Sam and Jesse will be waiting and you have no idea how much trouble those boys can get into when they're left on their own." Taking her lover by the hand, she snuck another quick peek in the long mirror hanging on the wall before pulling him towards the door."
"If they are friends of Daniel's, I am sure they can look after themselves. But if you insist we don't have the time to -"
"You are a rogue, Henri," Madeline laughed and then gave a little squeal as her paramour lightly slapped her behind.
After all the running and hiding, fearing for her survival and the lives of her son and all his friends, the woman once known as Madeline Westen was all too ready to throw herself into this new life. Descending the steps from their apartment on Barrack Street to the sidewalk below, for the first time in a very long time, Michael's mother couldn't help thinking it was good to be alive.
()()
It's good to be alive
I was lost and I was gone
I was almost dead inside
You and me against the world
It's a beautiful night
It's good to be alive
()
"Faster, Unca Dan, faster!" Charlie squealed loudly as he clung on tightly to the bar across the front of his seat and his legs kicking out in an effort to help his relative make the swing at the tiny playground take him higher into the air.
The former spy turned family man broke off from scanning the children's area and surrounding park to concentrate his attention on his young charge. Michael favored this place for its relative obscurity and smaller environs, which were easily seen from the swing set with decent cover behind his nephew's favorite piece of equipment…. Some things never changed…
"Okay, buddy, if ya think ya can handle it." Uncle Dan gave the boy another light push, his own smile widening as the youngster giggled with delight as he sailed back and forth.
"Wheee! Again! Again! I wanna go higher!"
"Sure thing -" The ringing of his cell caused Michael to pause mid-push and take a step back to answer the call. "Hang on thar a minute, boy... Hey, Fifi, you finished up at the range already?"
"I have and I thought you might need a little reminder to hurry home. I know how you boys love hanging out in the park. Is Charlie on the swings?"
"Yep, he sure is." Michael gave his nephew another gentle push.
"Well, good luck convincing him you have to leave now, but you need to get back here. I've just had a call from your mother and she said to tell you they're all on their way. So, we should be on our way too."
"We'll be along right quick, darlin'." He glanced at his watch and did the math… Getting Charlie off the swings and out of the park plus the distance and amount of traffic he expected to encounter on the short journey home. "Gimme fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes?" The sound of her musical laughter wafted through the phone. "I'll be waiting."
With the call ended, Michael dropped his phone back into his pocket and studied the back of the youngster, chewing on his bottom lip as he began to work on a strategy to get them out of the park without having to deal with a major tantrum.
"Okay, Charlie, that was yer Auntie Fifi." He grabbed hold of the back of the swing and slowly brought it to a stop. "It's time fer us to git a goin' an' git ready fer our special picnic."
"Five more minutes," the little boy pleaded and gripped the bar tighter, his knuckles turning white while his upper lip stuck out in a stubborn pout. "Puh-leeeze, Unca Dan."
Looking skyward, the former covert operative prepared himself for the upcoming battle of wills.
As a field operative, some aspects of life aren't part of your daily experience. You may be familiar with the mountains of Afghanistan or know how to break down a 50-caliber machine gun but that expertise comes at the cost of certain normal activities people take for granted: keeping up with sports teams for example or details of lawn care… or dealing with babies.
His nephew was no longer a baby, but neither was he an Afghani warlord or a dangerous international terrorist who, as far as the retired spy was concerned, would have been so much easier to deal with. Concluding with aggression should his efforts at negotiation fail was not an option with Nate's son, though he had been tempted as the pre-schooler had frustrated him frequently in the beginning.
"Ya know whud, yer right, Charlie… Who wants to git all gussied up and have to wear all them thar fancy clothes? I'll just call Auntie Fifi back and tell her we're gonna spend the whole day in the park and she and Grandma can go git strawberry ice cream without us."
Michael held his breath internally, waiting to see if his gamble would pay off or if he would be explaining to Fiona why they would be holding their 'special picnic' at the playground in their neighborhood park.
"NO!" the little boy yelled, squirming to get out of the swing as fast as he could. His uncle raised the safety bar and aided his nephew out from the seat before he could hurt himself. As soon as the four year olds feet hit the ground, he was flying towards the dark SUV. "Come on, Unca Dan, hurry!"
The dark haired man chuckled as he jogged after the rapidly moving blur. It had taken time, but he was finally getting better at coping with his nephew. Remembering how he had dealt with Nate as a youngster had been far too painful at first to even consider… But as his fear and his guilt had subsided, Michael had been able to look at Charlie, the very image of his father at that age, without burning regret darkening his every thought. Bribing his little brother with food had worked just as well as it did with the man's son.
As he strapped the impatient child into his booster seat, the former agent remembered the day Fiona's own patience with his reticence to be involved with child rearing had come to an abrupt end.
"Am goin' out and yer gonna take care o' him!" she had hissed into his ear after she'd emerged from the bedroom, her flowing locks squished into a mess bun with a clip and her clothes haphazardly thrown on.
"How is it when it comes ta dealin' terrorists and drug lords ya know exactly whot ta say, but yer afraid o' a four year old? He's nae gonna bite ya, Michael! Talk ta him fer god's sakes! He's yar family. He donnae understand why yer treatin' ham thot way. Hell, I dinnae understand an' I've had years ta deal wit' ya."
Sliding behind the wheel, he smiled at his nephew in the rear view mirror and started the vehicle.
"Hurry, Unca Dan, Auntie Fifi will go wif out us!"
"We're a goin' buddy," he called back over his shoulder as he put the Jeep in gear.
Watching the little boy now, Michael couldn't help but remember the look on Charlie's face then when Fiona had flown out the front door with a quick buss to the youngster's sticky cheek. The dark haired toddler had looked from the door to his panic stricken uncle and back again before bursting into tears.
He had been rooted to the spot when the sobbing child had taken the matter into his own chubby hands, running across the room and latching onto his only male relative's leg with a death grip and he had been stupidly grateful that he was wearing old work jeans instead of his one-time uniform of Armani suits as Charlie's breakfast crumbs were smeared all over his pants.
"Don' leave, Unca Mic'el… I'll be good, puh-leeze, don' leave…"
His brain had suddenly lurched into gear and he had squatted down to the boy's watery eye level, which had actually been really bad tactics as Charlie had taken the opportunity to launch himself forcefully at his unsuspecting uncle's neck and had knocked Michael down on his ass.
Sitting on the floor with a crying toddler wrapped around him, he'd momentarily cursed William Raines in his head with all he had before taking a deep breath to ask why he thought Unca Mic'el was leaving him.
The ex-spy blinked away the moisture in his blue eyes now, remembering the moment.
He'd had a helluva time understanding his nephew's explanation through the childish speech and the heaving sobs, but he'd eventually understood that Charlie thought he and Fiona were forsaking him as well. His parents were gone, they had fled Miami under a hail of bullets and then his grandmother and Henri had disappeared from his life, off on their honeymoon.
Once Auntie Fifi had flown out the door in an obvious snit, the little one's only conclusion was that his Uncle Michael would be the final person to abandon him, as he was obviously too bad to love.
Normally he would rather have died than cried, but he'd found himself grieving along with the boy for all they both had lost before realizing that he did have a mission in life and a very important one. Whether it was what he would have chosen for himself was irrelevant. The other choices he'd made in his life had led him to this moment. It wasn't a conspiracy between the CIA, his mother and his lover to keep him from being who he had been, it was a reality he could step up to or he could run away and fail the people who loved him and who had gone to great lengths to drag him away from the edge of hell he'd stood on.
Do you know why hell is scary? It's not the pain. It's not the torture or burning in a lake of fire. It's because it's forever… He had told James Foret that and it was true. He had been rescued from a life he thought he wanted that would have eventually consumed him, as surely as the fires of perdition would have.
Pulling up in front of the place he now called home, Daniel Germaine prepared himself for the next step in the new life he was being offered. It might not have been what he planned on, but he planned to make the most of the opportunity he had been given, a second chance to have a life with the people he loved.
()()
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
()
With her call to Michael over, Fiona pulled the towel wrapped about her body a little tighter and got to her feet. Fifteen minutes wasn't much time to finish her own preparations and pack away the contents of parcel she had had delivered to their place of business rather than her home address, but if she was quick she might just manage it.
Snatching up the shoebox she'd placed on the dining room table before making the call, she padded silently down the hallway to the bedroom. The box would go into the bag containing her special outfit for their big day. If she hid it under everything else and made sure the hold all was zipped up it would hopefully be enough to keep the special gifts inside safe from the curious eyes of the former spy.
Having showered as soon as she had returned home, Fiona settled down in front of her dressing table and reached out for her hair brush to untangle her freshly washed hair.
"I – er, well – umm – – Fi, can we talk?" It had been just over two months ago, while Charlie was playing outside and they had been clearing away the breakfast plates that the taciturn ex-secret agent had sidled up to her and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
At the time she had felt sick, as the first thing which had sprung to her mind were memories of all the other times her paramour had stuttered out his weak excuses why they couldn't be together. But then, before she could utter any of the scathing retorts about commitment which had bubbled up, her dark haired lover had taken hold of her hands in his, his fingers tracing lightly over the shiny gold band and small diamond engagement ring supplied by the CIA.
"I – I think, er - -"
"Spit it out, Michael," she said, using his real name in her ire. "Whatever it is, I can take it." She'd pulled her hands away and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak the words she dreaded.
"I -" He'd swallowed thickly and looked away before straightening up to stare deeply into her eyes. "Fiona Cairan Glenanne, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
"Pardon me?!" She smiled now as she remembered her confusion at the proposal. After all for all intents and purposes, they were already a married couple. Hadn't William Raines' lackeys supplied a French marriage certificate along with the rest of the documentation for their new lives?
"I've been thinking about this for a while," Michael stuttered. "I've been thinking about how Raines and the CIA forced this whole marriage thing on us both... So, I want to know, do you want to marry me?"
He had taken her completely by surprise and when she had laughed, and then seen him pale at her reaction, she had flung herself forward and into his arms. "Yes, yes, Michael Donavon Westen, I will marry ya…" Fiona couldn't help herself, kissing him over and over until she took a breather. "But doesn't that mean we'll have to divorce first? And how d'ya plan on explaining it all to our CIA keepers?"
"I have an idea," he'd answered in between kisses. "An official wedding service might raise a few eyebrows, so how do you feel about a blessing?... If I remember right, Sam had a buddy who was a priest, so maybe he could –? Or maybe that cousin of Henri's, if that's what you want?"
With the last of the tangles brushed out of her long hair, Fiona quickly fashioned her still damp mane into a loose chignon, which for the time being would keep her long auburn locks out of the way while she finished getting ready for their journey out to the bayou where they had hidden out after extracting Michael from the clutches of James Kendrick, and Sonya Lebedenko.
During their early days as residents of New Orleans, they'd had several clashes with the protection team or as she preferred to call them their keepers or when she was having a particularly frustrating day their gaolers.
First, it had been the listening devices and cameras they had discovered hard wired into their new home's electrical system. It had only been after the third time they had ripped the intrusive devices out of the walls or sabotaged them in some way that Agent Nixon and his usually silent partner Metzel had given up on trying to listen in. But that hadn't been the end of the CIA's invasion into their lives, the GPS trackers on their vehicles had been another cause of discord.
It had taken six months for Michael's former employers to loosen the leash and begin to trust that their untrustworthy ex-employee wasn't going to go rogue anytime soon and since then, apart from weekly check-ins, Fiona was pretty sure they were being left alone. But that news hadn't stopped them from going to great lengths to keep the plans for their nuptials secret.
As it had turned out making clandestine arrangements hadn't been as hard as they had thought it was going to be. It might have taken Michael a long time to learn to trust his new step father, but things had definitely been helped along by Henri's large and very accommodating family.
Cousin Jacques had been happy to take his wife and children on a short vacation to Miami. While he was there, he had left a burner phone on table in a yogurt shop, which had been retrieved by its owner who in turn had taken it with her when she visited the Mist Spa at the Darabont hotel; one of the three luxury establishments owned by recently married Mrs. Samuel Axe.
It was a strategy that Sam had put in place using a grateful former client to pass messages so they could keep in touch without alerting the CIA to what they were doing. However, arranging a wedding needed more than the passing of brief notes, especially if their best friends were going to sneak out of Miami to join them.
"Auntie Fifi…! Auntie…Unca Dan, I think she's gone without us... Aunteeee!"
Fiona hurriedly finished buttoning up the jeans she was wearing for the ride out to the swamp. "I'm here, Charlie. Je serai à vous dans une minute."
"Take yer time, Fifi, Charlie here can shower with me while ya finish up."
Fiona paused, her hand resting on the door handle and then she smiled. "Take your time boys. I'll start loading up the car while you get ready."
This was even better, as now she could get her bag into the SUV without having to worry about Michael deciding to look inside.
()()
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
()
Sitting on one of the twelve comfortable seats in the brand new Dornier Seastar flying over the Gulf of Mexico, Sam Axe couldn't deny that in the last nine months his life had taken a full one hundred eighty degree turn for the better.
Living under the watchful and sometimes intrusive eye of the CIA had been an annoyance at times, as Michael's former recruiting officer had shown he was determined to break up what he had called Westen's network of miscreants.
Barry Burkowski, their one-time go to guy on all matters concerning finance, had left Miami for places unknown, as had the computer genius Dixon and over the months Sam had discovered his own buddy network of FBI, police and other agencies had dried up too.
Nobody had come out and actually said they had been approached by one of the suit and sun glasses brigade, but their sudden need to be somewhere else or refusal to return phone calls had left the former SEAL with no doubt in his mind that he was now considered a persona non grata to any government worker who wished to keep their job.
But none of that really mattered any more. He had been assured his old friends were safe in their new locations far away from Miami and besides that, after spending so long fighting threats from various agencies both rogue and legitimate, ex-Commander Axe was ready to enjoy his well-earned retirement.
Life was good. In fact, his life was very, very good indeed. He had the love of a smart, beautiful woman and a new business, consulting on all matters involving security at small chain of Dearbon hotels in Miami, as well as working the occasional side job with Jesse Porter whenever he felt the need to get the adrenaline flowing and the old heart pumping faster. He missed his friends but he was happy for them.
Glancing out of the window looking down on the expanse of ocean below him and then the broken coastline in the distance, Sam couldn't help but smile. Surviving the attack on James Kendrick and his team of international terrorists had reminded him of how good it felt to be alive, but getting to meet up with his best buddy and his girl particularly on this day was even better.
"Hey, Jesse…" The former SEAL turned his attention to the other side of the luxury aircraft to where his partner in crime was catching up on his beauty sleep. "Time to wake up, buddy, we're almost there."
()()
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive.
()
Jesse grinned as the wind whipped about his bald head, making his eyes water. Ever since he and Sam had stepped off the seaplane and onto the waiting airboat, he had been feeling nothing but positive about the precarious journey they had taken to meet up with their friends. It had been a risk, but so worth it.
He had never seen Madeline Westen, or Mrs. Adelaide Devereaux, look as happy as she was now. He turned his head to glance back to where the woman he had grown to think of as a surrogate mother was snuggled into the side of her new husband and the pilot of the craft carrying them out into the depths of one of Louisiana bayous.
It was hard to believe that less than a year ago it had looked like they were going to end their days locked away in a CIA black site, because their friend had gone rogue, turning on not only his family and friends but his country too. Jesse shuddered as he remembered what he'd been feeling the first time he had headed towards this cabin in the swamps with an unconscious and bound Michael Westen in the boat.
Things had certainly changed for the better and not only for Maddie with her new squeeze or Sam who had finally tied the knot with the woman of his dreams. He now had his own significant other and he hoped she was going to yes when he got up the nerve to pop the question.
Jennifer Jenkins, a divorcee and mother of two, had transferred from the Virginia office not long after he had returned to Securicorp, after his so-called temporary recruitment back in to the CIA for top secret assignment of national importance had ended. At least the Agency had gotten him his job back.
They had been thrown together to provide a security detail for a high powered couple in Miami for a month of business meetings. He had found the tall incredibly leggy, black haired, brown eyed beauty to be smart, tough and possessing a wicked sense of humor, not unlike a certain lady from his past who would apparently not be returning to his side of the world at any time if ever, and they had hit it off straight away.
At the end of the assignment, after a month of working side by side, late night debriefing sessions and strategy meetings, she had invited him over to her condo for a family meal. Her kids, Travis who was four and was a holy terror, as his own momma used to say, and Lizzie, who at sixteen months was as cute as a button, had adored the tall, bald stranger in their midst and ever since then things had been moving fast.
Admittedly the first few times it happened, he had found being woken up in the early hours of the morning by two small bodies leaping on the bed more than a little disconcerting. It had taken some effort to keep his counter-intel reflexes under control and it had taught him the value of wearing pajama bottoms to bed.
And there were the other times he'd had to bite down on his tongue, or a couple of times leave the room, when Jenny's jackass of an ex called to supposedly speak to their kids, but it seemed to him what the guy really wanted to do was cause the mother of their children pain. It was a good thing for the man's health that he was their father and lived far, far away. Jesse wasn't a fool and he knew at their age everyone had baggage of some sort. Besides, he was really beginning to get the hang of the whole instant family gig.
Feeling a hand slap down on his arm, the former CIFA officer turned back and then followed the direction his newest partner in crime was pointing. And there it was, the old wooden cabin set up on stilts; the place that they had all come together to finally begin to repair the damaged soul of the battle weary operative.
With two airboats already tied up and thinking about the other instant family guy, Jesse saluted the man himself. The former super spy stood on the veranda, one arm raised in a greeting while the other was draped over the shoulders of the petite Irish wild woman who had helped that man mend his broken heart.
Leaning over the wooden railing, waving wildly with both hands was the little boy who was nothing at all like the quiet withdrawn child he remembered. Mr. Porter chuckled. Now having some idea of what a four year old was like, he couldn't wait to hear what kind of grief Charlie had been putting them though.
()()
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive.
()
They came together on the veranda, hugging and exchanging greetings, quickly filling in all the details of their separate lives. Sam gratefully accepting the bottle of imported beer handed to him by his best friend's gal along with the surprise of a kiss to the cheek.
But the biggest change had to be in the tightly wound, stoic spy who appeared to have morphed into a thoroughly chilled family man, happily swinging a hyper-active four year old up onto his shoulders without batting an eye.
"You're looking good, Mikey... I never thought I'd get to say it to ya, but married life suits you, buddy." Sam gave his pal a hearty slap on the back.
"It sure beats the hell outta the alternative," he returned with a laugh. "I guess I just needed one last second chance... Thank you…" Michael added quietly so only Sam could hear. "How about you…? It's hard to believe, Chuck Finley has hung up his guns for the last time."
"You better believe it and not just me. You heard about Jesse? You're not the only one now, Mikey. Jess's got himself a ready-made family too."
The former SEAL leaned in close, talking out of the side of his mouth, but still loud enough for the topic of their conversation to hear every word. "A beautiful divorcee, two little hell raisers… she's a former analyst working for military intelligence and now the latest superstar of Securicorp… It was like a match made in heaven. First time we saw 'em down on the beach, this one was sitting down building sandcastles."
The laughter had continued, the three friends inviting Henri into their group when, after a few minutes of good natured ribbing and greatly missed comradery, Madeline and Fiona disappeared into one of the bedrooms at the back of the cabin with a couple of large bags.
"Michael," she called out from the back. "Don't forget you and Charlie need to get ready, Étienne is waiting for us."
"It's Unca Dan!" the little boy in question corrected from his position behind the dark haired man's head.
Michael smirked. "It's okay, but jus' fer today, champ…. Sure thang, darlin', we'll be along in a minute," he returned loudly before turning his attention back to his friends. Opening his mouth to answer Sam's comment about being whipped, his lips soon snapped shut
"Dan - i - el, now! You know how long it takes to get Charlie dressed."
Dropping his chin to his chest in defeat, Michael chose to ignore his friends' laughter and faux marital advice and lifted his nephew down off his shoulders. "Come on, boy, we best git 'er done before Auntie Fifi blows a head gasket."
Guiding the child towards the door his beloved had just sauntered through with his mother, Michael rubbed a hand over his recently shaven jaw to the sounds of the other men's continued merriment.
Being pussy whipped was far better than being pistol whipped…. Fiona might have settled into the life given to them, but that didn't change the fact she still had a red hot temper and a mean right hook.
He used his hand to cover his mouth as he smirked again, remembering the last time she'd thrown a punch at him and what had followed that sudden bout of violence. If being p-whipped, as Sam put it, had gotten him a half hour of very strenuous but pleasurable bedroom activity, he wasn't about to complain.
"Unca Dan, I don't wanna get changed." Charlie came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room being set up for the ceremony and for the party afterwards, bringing Michael sharply back to the present.
"I want some ice cream... Granma said I can't have any cuz I can't get my new clothes dirty. I want ice cream, ice cream, Unca Dan!"
"Later, Charlie…" He attempted to take the pre-schooler's hand, but the four year old was as usual one step ahead of his uncle and threw himself down onto the floor.
"I don't wanna dress up, I want ice cream. You promised, Unca Dan!"
Now Henri and his relatives were turning to watch the scene playing out, his stepfather looking towards the bedroom door where Fiona and his mother had vanished behind a few minutes earlier.
Closing his eyes for a second, Michael fought to maintain control. Things had been going so good.
"Ice cream! I – I – w-want sommmme ice crweam! NOW! Now, now, now, now…"
"Everything alright, Daniel…? You want me to go get your mama, or Fifi?" His mother's husband was now at his side...
"Great," Michael huffed internally and for a moment wished he was living in that cave he'd spend six months in back in Afghanistan as he often did when Charlie's temper almost got the better of them both.
Then the former spy did what he always did in these situations. Ever since Fiona had forced him to confront his reticence in dealing with his nephew, he had come to realize that Daniel Germaine, the easy going, Alabama-born retired soldier was far better at coping with normal family emergencies and relationship issues. Slipping into a cover ID to deal with problems is what he had always done best.
"We're fine here, Henri. No need to trouble the ladies with this here, is thar now, Charlie…?"
Squatting down beside the boy, Daniel reached out and ruffled his nephew's dark hair. "Come on, quit yer fussing, boy. Yer makin' a fool a yerself over nothin', ya hear? Are ya sure ya heard yer grandma right?
Charlie stopped crying and looked up at his uncle through tear filled eyes.
"Ah'm pretty darned sure what she meant to say was ya can't have any ice cream til after we've all got dressed up and had the party. Cuz it ain't no party until everyone is in their Sunday best, now is it?"
"You promise?" he sniffed.
"Cross my heart, I tell you what, the sooner we get into those fancy clothes the sooner the party can get started and the sooner you'll get a big bowl of Strawberry ice-cream and I swear I saw some sprinkles over on the table too."
"Ice cream and sprinkles…?" The little boy was back on his feet.
"Sure thing, but I'll tell ya somethin' else, young man… Ya throw another fit like that and thar ain't gonna be no dessert for you at all. Ya hear me, Charlie Germaine?"
"O-kay…" the brown haired child, looking more like Nate than ever with his face still flushed from his temper tantrum, stuck out his bottom lip before mumbling his apology.
"Okay then, long as we understand each other, we're good here. Let's go…"
With a heavy sigh of relief, Michael got back to his feet and quickly chased after his nephew, who had rushed towards the back of the house, satisfied with their negotiation and finally ready to get dressed.
()()()()
In the largest of the bedrooms, unaware of what was taking place in the other room, Fiona carefully opened her bag on the bed and unfolded the cream lace dress she had bought especially for the occasion and then took out two shoe boxes.
One contained a pair of four inch cream-colored Louboutin pumps, which exactly matched her dress, and the other was the box which had been delivered to the shooting range by an old family friend who had made a special side trip on his way to his home on Isla Mujeres, the small island off the coast of Cancun.
"Fiona?" Madeline stopped her own unpacking to examine the contents of the second shoe box.
"Gifts from home…" The younger woman smiled, putting aside an envelope full of family photographs to look at fora later date. She picked up a red velvet jewellery box, opening the lid to reveal an antique gold pocket watch. "It was me daddy's. I remember him winding it every morning before he walked me and Sean to school and on Sundays before we went to church he used to spend an hour polishing it."
She brushed her fingers over the shamrock leaf etched onto the casing. "He said it had been his grandfather's and had been on him when he was killed during the Easter Rising... Me mam has asked me to pass it on to Michael as a way of welcoming him into the family."
"Oh, Fiona…" Madeline couldn't put her feelings into words at the generosity of her daughter in laws mother. She had never really paid attention to the world news. But she had learned a lot from Fiona's brother Sean when he had been recuperating on her couch and knew that receiving this gift was a sure sign that Maeve Glenanne had forgiven Michael for his time spying on her family.
"And this…" Fiona carefully unwrapped several layers of tissue paper to reveal a long length of very old and delicate lace along with a hair band made out of what looked like silver and decorated with tiny emeralds. "This was my mother's wedding veil. My sister in law Isabelle wore it last and before me mammy, it had belonged to her mother. It's handmade Irish lace. Do you think you can help me with my hair? I'd like to wear it today."
"It's beautiful, Fiona –" Michael's mother was almost overcome with emotion. She never thought she would live to see the day her boy did right by his long suffering girlfriend and certainly had never imagined that Fiona's family would finally forget their grievances with such generosity. "Fi, regardless of what my son says, we'll have to take some photos. Then you can send them home."
"I could send them back when I return the veil."
"What's that?" Madeline's curiosity took over as she pointed to another box, this one wrapped in silver paper and sealed with red tape.
Fiona lifted the box and felt the weight, before reading the card attached: It's not a shotgun, but we're sure McBride will get the idea.
"What is that supposed to mean?" The older woman examined the card while Fiona removed the paper and opened the box.
"A Bond Arms Ranger, derringer with a 4.25 inch barrel, stainless steel frame with ivory grips inlaid with gold." She raised the small gun pointing it at the door and sighting along the short barrel and then after a moment placed it into a slim line pink thigh holster which had been included in the package. "It is a bad joke on my brother's part. They've just got a funny way of showing their approval."
"You think they still disapprove?"
"No, no, Adelaide. If they disapproved it, it wouldn't have been a little pistol like that they would have been sending me. Let's just say they have an odd sense of humor... Daniel will understand... Now, let's get ready before Charlie gives him the slip and gets into the desserts waiting in the fridge." Slipping out of her jeans, the auburn haired beauty fixed the thigh holster to her leg before reaching for dress.
"What?" She asked at the look her mother in law was giving her. "Oh, the pistol? Daniel will think it's cute."
()()()()
Chairs had been set out in the small living space for the few guests, wildflowers, ribbons and balloons supplied by Madeline's new in-laws decorated the bare room and in one corner, four of Henri Devereaux's kin played a soft tune on an assortment of instruments.
Then finally two bedroom doors opened almost in unison and the couple stepped out side by side, following on the heels of a rather nervous looking Charlie Germaine, who led the way solemnly toward where his new Uncle Étienne stood waiting before a makeshift altar.
"You look beautiful Fi." Michael gazed at his beloved, his hand squeezing hers a little tighter as his blue orbs flickered over her very short and very tightly fitted cream lace dress and the exquisite veil which was held in place by a delicate silver crown and trailed over her long auburn locks which hung in ringlets past her shoulders.
"Ya look kinda manifique yar self, Monsieur Germaine." She deliberately mangled her accents as she playfully bumped against his side, her shining eyes raking over his form resplendent in grey Armani again.
Coming to a stop, Fiona leaned forward and gently directed Charlie to take a seat next to his grandmother as the local pastor began to recite his blessing on the couple standing before him. At the end of his speech, he looked from Fiona to Michael and then asked if they had any special vows they wished to say to each other before the conclusion of the service.
"No-" her newly blessed husband started to say and then, before he could object, she turned to face him. Holding his hands in hers, she stared up into his panic stricken albeit misty blue eyes and, ignoring the deer in the headlights look he was sending her way, she began to speak.
"Lorsque tout ce que vous avez sont les rêves brisés... Juste besoin d'une seconde chance...Et tout ce que vous voulez être... Se fait prendre de vos mains... Nous nous accrochons à l'autre... Tout ce que nous avons est tout ce qu'il faut... Parce que d'une façon ou d'une autre... Nous faisons toujours toi et moi"
"What did she say, Henri?" Madeline whispered loudly into her husband's ear. "Tell me, was it something romantic?"
Slowly, as the words had flowed and he had recognized what his beloved was saying, the former spy had relaxed, a smile growing on his face even as a slight blush covered his freshly shaven cheeks. Ignoring his mother's questioning of his father in law, Michael cleared his throat and then, hesitantly at first, began to reply. He'd had to relearn his French in order to support their cover identity, but it was still a stretch.
"Il est bon d'être en vie... Je suis perdu et je suis parti... Je suis presque mort à l'intérieur...Vous et moi contre le monde...Il est une belle nuit...Il est bon d'être en vie."
It was their song, something which had happened to have been playing over the speakers at their indoor gun range and firearms store that the CIA had supplied them with on the day of their first big blow out.
He had been checking in the inventory when he had come across three large suspiciously unmarked crates. Opening the first, he had discovered one thousand tracer rounds, not exactly illegal but not something they were licensed to carry in stock.
But what had been of more concern was the six shiny, brand new Czech Republic CZ 805 Bren assault rifles, which definitely had no place in amongst their stock of hand guns and then there had been box after box of Teflon coated ammunition filling up the last crate, again not illegal in Louisiana, but something that if a certain nosy CIA agent out found would make the deal with Raines null and void.
()()
When all you got are broken dreams
Just need a second chance
And everything you want to be
Gets taken from your hands
()
"Hey, Fifi, you got somethin' ya wanna tell me about?" He'd yelled from the storeroom. Already frustrated by being stuck with all the paperwork, he had been looking for an excuse to explode.
"I'm just holding them for a friend. They'll be gone in a day or two and we will have made an extra two thousand for very little trouble," had been her flippant reply, which had lit the det cord of his already frayed temper.
The argument had soon developed into a full scale shouting match, as accusations had flown back and forth and it came very clear that the woman he loved had more than a few frustrations of her own.
()()
We hold on to each other
All we have is all we need
'Cause one way or another
We always make it you and me
()
At the time, the song had been nothing but an annoyance, buzzing away in the background, while he insisted that she called Jojo Delaney there and then to tell him and all her other god-forsaken criminal associates to find somewhere else to stockpile their inventory.
And she had retaliated with her feelings about his attitude towards his mother's boyfriend, Charlie and that was before she had really got into her stride and brought up the fact she had found his "bug out" bag hidden in the back of the garage amongst a pile of empty boxes.
"You tell me I've gotta cut all my old ties, but what happens when you decide you've had enough? When you disappear in the middle of the night- again! - and leave me, Charlie and your mom to face the music. We're going to need the money and my contacts then."
He hadn't realized how much the song had resonated with both of them, as their argument had turned in a heartbeat from being ready to tear each other apart to holding each other tight and making promises to change until Fiona returned home a few weeks later from a shopping trip with the CD. It wasn't exactly his tastes musically, but the words had truly sunk into his soul.
So, she had spoken the first verse, reminding the other half of her soul where they had come from, what they had almost lost, and how far they had come to arrive at where they were today and he had replied.
()()
It's good to be alive
I was lost and I was gone
I was almost dead inside
You and me against the world
It's a beautiful night
It's good to be alive
()
"Well, who woulda thought you had it in you, Mikey." Sam broke the moment. "I for one was beginning to think you didn't have a romantic bone in your whole body."
The blushing couple turned to face their friends as the small tight knit group clapped and cheered, passing on more advice which had Madeline frantically reaching out to cover her grandson's ears.
"I have something for you. It's in the bedroom." Fiona spoke from behind her smile.
"I er, I don't think now is the time, Fi," Michael replied in the same manner, drawing her closer against his side. "Um, I was thinking later... When Charlie is -"
"Nae thot ,ya daft man," she huffed, reverting to her native accent she tightened her grip on his hand and dragged him towards the back of the cabin. Sam's guffaw was quickly joined by Jesse's sniggering.
"One more word, Sam Axe, an' I swear I'll -" The flame haired former gun runner pointed a finger at the older man, daring him to utter one more word before continuing to pull her reluctant partner towards the bedroom where she had got changed earlier.
Slamming the door shut behind them, Fiona picked up the red velvet jewellery box and held it out reverently to her spouse.
"I know how you and our government watchdogs feel about my friends coming around. So, I had this delivered to the range after I was sure they had given up on watching our every move and when I was sure you were going to be too busy to worry about I was getting up to. Open it; it's a present from me mother."
He paused, narrowing his eyes as he eased the lid open, half expecting the box to explode. Finding an antique pocket watch inside, he sent his beloved a quizzical look.
"It was my father's and his dad's before that. He was given it by my great grandmother when he turned eighteen. It had been worn by his father during the Easter Rising."
"So, she no longer wants me dead?" he queried distractedly as he picked the watch up and ran his thumb over the pattern etched into the lid, awed by the gift and what it meant.
"I don't think she ever wanted you dead."
"No, I remember very clearly the first time I was invited to Casa Glenanne, she took me outside and showed me where she kept her guard dogs and I have a very strong memory of what she promised me would happen if I ever let you down."
She wrapped her arms about his waist. "If she had wanted you dead, you would be dead." Her mouth covered his, her tongue gliding along his lip, before nipping the tender flesh. "And Am fairly certain yer very much alive."
This time when she kissed him, his lips parted and their tongues stroked against each other in a dance of passion. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing a little heavier.
"We should get back to the party." Michael slipped the Glenanne family heirloom into his pocket. "Sam and Jesse risked a lot coming out here."
"Did you see Sam's eyes light up at the sight of all the fried chicken on the table and the big pot of Gumbo heating on the stove," she laughed lightly as they turned towards the door.
"I think Elsa has him back on another fitness regime." Michael chuckled and took her hand.
They spent the rest of the afternoon catching up and trading stories, Michael and Fiona drawing closer together as they listened wistfully to Jesse telling the tale of how he had foiled the systematic theft of Ketamine from a veterinary supplier's warehouse.
"Do you still miss it? The life of a spy...?" She leaned in close, speaking into his ear.
Michael sighed and then smiled softly. "That life nearly killed me, Fi," he answered quietly. "I think I prefer this one." Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, not caring that everyone was watching.
Looking back to his small circle of friends, he gestured with a tilt of his chin to where Charlie was tugging on his grandmother's skirt with ice cream covered fingers. "I also think the little guy is getting over tired."
()()()()
First Madeline and Henri took their leave, taking Charlie with them to give the newly blessed couple some much needed alone time. Following closely on the elderly couple's heels and after another round of hugs and promises to keep in touch, Sam and Jesse rushed to catch up with their ride back to where their plane waited for them.
Finally alone, the couple took their time to change out of their wedding finery.
"Your brothers really sent you that gun?" he asked as she removed the holster from her thigh.
"They were worried you might need a little convincing to stay around." She grinned as he lowered the zipper of her form fitting dress. "They haven't seen you for over what is it now? Thirteen, fourteen years…? They don't know how much you've changed."
Turning around, she patted his cheek and then moved in closer, purring into his ear. "We could stay here tonight." The palm of one hand drifted from the flat tone abs beneath her husband's dark cotton T-shirt to the rough denim of the front of his jeans. "All alone, staring up at the stars, no worries about Raines' minions with their hidden mics and cameras..."
"You'd rather stay out here? With the insects, spiders and the snakes, sleeping on a hard wooden floor risking bites, stings and not to mention splinters…?" He questioned as he stepped back, hanging her dress up in the garment bag along with his suit.
Fiona smiled seductively at him, standing there in her lacy underwear. "It would be rather like our first time would it nae, Michael?" The Irish lilt slipping into her voice again.
He ducked his head for a moment, his sly smile and slight reddening of his cheeks letting her know that he too was remembering their first encounter in her family's old ruined farmhouse on the road to Derry
"We could," he agreed as he picked up her jeans and T-shirt, preparing to put them into the bag. "But then we'd waste that reservation I made for three nights at the Roosevelt Hotel in a luxury suite."
"Michael!" she gasped. Her thick headed lover had made them hotel reservations only two times in the nearly two decades they had known one another.
"I made the arrangements while you were busy... I've also organized for some transport to be waiting for us at the dock, but if you'd rather stay here…" He didn't have to finish the sentence. Fiona snatched her clothing out of his hand, dressing in a flash and flying out the door. She was already at the controls of the airboat by the time her dark haired lover brought the bags out and secured the cabin.
"You best let me drive. Hold on tight and I'll have back on dry land before you can blink."
()()()()
An hour later Fiona was, if not exactly heaven, somewhere close… The spy who couldn't have organized a romantic getaway if his life depended on it had not only booked them a suite in one of the most expensive hotels in New Orleans, he had also as far as she was concerned arranged the perfect transportation to get them there.
Twisting the throttle of her black Hayabusa motorcycle, the engine roared and the front wheel lifted off the ground as she left a thick black strip of burning rubber on the road. Laughing, with her long hair streaming out behind her from under her helmet, she led the way towards the bright lights of their new home town.
Following in her wake, Michael too enjoyed the wind on his face and the simple joy of being alive.
()()
Driving down this highway
Soaking up the sun
Got miles to go before we get home
And the journey's just begun
We hold on to each other
You are everything I need
You feel like forever
You're the second chance for me
This life could almost kill ya
When you're trying to survive
It's good to be here with ya
And it's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
I was lost and I was gone
I was almost dead inside
You and me against the world
It's a beautiful night
It's good to be alive
It's beautiful night
Yeah, it's all right
It's good to be alive
This life could almost kill ya
When you're trying to survive
It's good to be here with ya
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
And it's good to be alive
It's good to be alive
I was lost and I was gone
I was almost dead inside
You and me against the world
It's a beautiful night
It's good to be alive
It's beautiful night
Yeah, it's all right
It's good to be alive
()
L'Fin