Chapter 2

If Michael thought he could just settle into home and deal with Fiona later, he was sorely mistaken. From the moment he heard her name, a spark ignited in his brain. It grew into a flame that would surely turn him to cinders if he didn't do something about it. He was trying to be considerate of his mother and give her a little of his time, but even she knew he was distracted by the real love of his life.

After a hot relaxing bath that sloughed off the dirt from his travels, he sat down to supper at the dining room table. He glanced at his plate. "Macaroni and cheese?"

Maddie smiled, her eyes crinkled in joy, happy to be cooking for him. "It was always your favorite, Michael. I thought maybe you'd like something... comforting." She felt his discomfort and added, "It's a recipe I got from a cooking channel. Sam liked it. I made it when you had him babysitting me that one time." She let out a breath, growing impatient with his hesitation, and jumped out of her seat and reached for his plate at the same time.

Michael nearly stabbed her with his fork as he was about to take a bite. "Ma! Please, it's okay. Mac and cheese is fine," he assured her and gave her a smile to prove it. He watched her as she sat in her chair and he picked up a forkful. He chewed on it, and nodding with a genuine smile, he said, "This is good, Ma. Thanks."

The sunny smile returned to Maddie's face. "I'm so glad you like it, Michael!"

While they ate she talked about the activity in the neighborhood, but Michael said very little other than a comment now and then. His thoughts were stuck on Fiona. He didn't need to close his eyes to see her face, remembering the look of betrayal behind the tears the last time he saw her. Her pain struck him in the heart. Didn't she know that? It was't a real choice. If he'd said 'no', they would have been separated forever. At least this way they had a chance to reunite.

He wiped his mouth on the napkin and set it beside his plate. He'd cleaned it of everything, including the steamed broccoli. "That was really good, Ma." He leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "But now, I'm beat. Jet lag and all that, you know."

"Of course, honey. I put your suitcase upstairs and hung your clothes and put things away in the dresser, so you don't have to worry about that. There are clean sheets on your bed." Her smile brimmed with emotion and she blinked. "I'm so happy you're home. I just wish it could be for longer. For... forever."

"Ma," Michael groaned as he stood. She met him on his side of the table and he hugged her. "It's almost over."

"Almost? What does that mean? Is it a month, or two, or a year?" Her voice was husky with emotion when she asked.

He rubbed her shoulders as he replied, "A few months, six at the most. But I can't guarantee that, and you know it."

She bobbed her head and stared at the floor. "I know. I don't like it." Then she looked up at him and asked, "But the question is, can you get Fiona to understand that?"

"I don't know. I intend to find out, though."

Maddie wrapped her arms around him and hugged him like she used to when he was a little boy. If she could have reached it, she would have kissed the top of his head like she did so long ago. When she released him, she looked into his eyes. "If I wake up in the morning and find your bed empty, I'll know you went driving to the Keys looking for Fiona."

He loved her for knowing him so well and accepting his desires. She knew where his heart lay, and at the moment it was in pieces without Fiona as the glue to keep him together. "All this time I was away, I kept trying to tell myself that it was better if Fi and I stayed apart. I know the truth now." He shook his head and stared out the dining room window at the growing darkness. "I feel like... I'm only half a man without her."

"I'm glad you finally figured that out," Maddie cracked. "Everyone else saw it but you. You were too focused on your agenda, and what you thought you had to do to protect us. It all blew up in your face and you almost lost her."

When Michael looked down at her through wet eyes, he saw her pointing at him like she used to when he did something wrong and she lectured him. "I'll try not to make that same mistake twice. I promise." They were the same words he used back then, and most times he was as good as his word.

Maddie sighed. "I left a weekender bag on your bed. Find Fiona and bring her home, will you? You're not the only one who loves her."

Michael smiled, laughed, and fought off a wave of emotion that threatened to turn him into an embarrassing puddle of tears if he let it. Instead, he embraced his mother again, kissed her cheek, and pulled away to go upstairs and pack his bag. He didn't count on the sight of his old double bed, the soft olive green chenille bedspread beckoning him to to lay down for just a moment. He gave in, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, and his heavy lids closed as he slipped into slumber.

When Michael awoke, the room was dark except for the light from the street lamp streaming through the filmy curtains. He sat up with a start, glancing at his watch and seeing that it was after midnight. He should have been in Key West by now. Contrary to what everyone believed, thinking that he was clueless as to Fiona's whereabouts, Michael knew better than any one of them where she was based. He didn't have an address, but he would find her. If everything worked out, he could leave at that moment, locate her during the day, and bring her home by nightfall. Easy peasy, as Sam liked to say.

However, nothing with Fiona was ever easy. Maybe that was why he loved her so much, because nothing worth having was ever easy. He'd learned that well enough. He turned and ran his hand over the unwrinkled bedspread. There would be no more sleep tonight, of that he was certain.

His instinct was to just leave, but Michael decided to heed his mother's advice and pack a bag. Maybe, once he found Fiona, the two of them could spend some quality time down there alone before he had to share Fiona's attention with his friends and family.

"Michael," Maddie's voice startled him as he stood at the top of the stairs. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes, Ma. I'm going to Key West and I'll work my way back here."

"Good luck, honey. Don't be afraid to call and keep me updated, okay?" She patted his arm and returned to her room. "Drive safe."

"I will, Ma. Thanks." Until recently, he hadn't experienced such concern from her. It was foreign, but it made him feel good and he liked it. He envisioned what life might be like after the Agency, that maybe they could have the kind of peace and whatever it was normal families had that kept them together.

It was an almost four hour drive to Key West, so Michael made sure he had a full tank of gas before he left. Then he took off into the night, his mind focusing on the end of his journey. What would he find? First order of business was to locate a hotel to set up as home base. Then try to get a couple hours of sleep and start looking for Fiona.

He slept longer than he intended, and if it weren't for his phone ringing, Michael might have stayed asleep longer. He rolled to his side, still on top of the bedspread and fully clothed, and picked up his phone. The screen read ,"Sam."

"Yeah, Sam? What's up?"

"I was just checking up on you. I thought maybe you'd like to go fishing or something, but I called your Ma's house and she said you were in Key West." He hesitated. "Any luck finding Fi?"

"I just got here a few hours ago and found myself a place to stay." He yawned and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to go out in a little while and see if I can track her down. My intel says she's doing some business down here."

Sam chuckled. "I guess there's one benefit to being in with the Agency, huh?"

"Yeah." He didn't need to say anymore. He knew that Sam understood how he felt, that the perks of the job were no longer worth the pain and isolation he'd endured all those years.

"I better let you go then. Tell Fi if she doesn't come back with you, I'll get Jesse, and we'll all come down and hound her until she comes back to Miami." Sam said, "Tell her we want our sister home. If she won't come for you, maybe she'll do it for us."

Michael's laughter was soft. "I'll see what I can do."

"Don't just see what you can do. Do it!"

"Yes, Sir." Michael teased. Sam did outrank him in age and military stature, but neither of them ever bothered with that. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Mikey."

"I'm sorry if I never said how much I appreciate your friendship. You've put up with a lot for me."

"I know, but you're worth it. Good luck, Mike, and if you need any help, you know who to call."

The smile on Michael's face reached into the tone of his voice. "You can count on it, Sam. Thanks."

Talking to Sam brought back the ache in his heart. There was a big empty space in it that only Fiona could fill, and he was well aware of that now. None of his other activities or his work could satisfy him. How stupid he'd been to think that it could! If he lost everything, lost her, because of his mistakes, Michael wasn't sure what he would do. He couldn't go back to that life, as much as his superiors wanted him to.

"I've gotta get out there and find you, Fi," Michael whispered as he stood and made a move toward his bag.

Not long after, he emerged from the old hotel and looked around at the increasing activity on the street. Cafes were open and the tables almost full with tourists enjoying their morning coffee. The sunshine beat down on the pavement, and Michael could already feel the heat through his flimsy footwear. In order to fin in, he wore knee-length khaki shorts, a light blue Hawaiian shirt not unlike one Sam might wear, unbuttoned to expose his chest to the warmth of the sun, and flip-flops. Even his sunglasses were different, because he didn't want to come upon Fiona and have her flee before he could speak to her, to try to explain himself.

At this early hour, Michael decided to wander toward the east and check out the open air restaurants. Perhaps he would get lucky and find her sitting at a little cafe table, alone, with her Spanish omelet, whites only, and coffee. He walked until he came upon a residential area, where he turned and walked back through the main street. He stalked the pavement westward and found nothing, at least not the woman he sought. Michael forced a heavy sigh between his lips and sat at one of the cafe tables near the street. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to have her walk past.

"Would you care for something to eat, Sir?"

Michael looked up at the waitress but his gaze went through her as he ordered. His mind was so focused on Fiona that he had no idea what he requested. It would be a surprise. Not that he payed attention to what he was eating anyway. It was simply fuel to keep him going to find her. While he ate his meal and scoped the passing diversity of people, he ran through his head what he would say to her, thinking of something clever and discarding it, one sentence at a time.

"Hi, Fi. I'm back. Did you miss me?"

"Fi, you look great. Not having me around has been good for you. Too bad I can't say the same."

"Hi, Fi. I'm sorry we left things the way we did. Have a coffee with me, and we can talk?"

Michael finished up the last of his coffee and washed down the egg white as his eyes locked onto a familiar figure. She did look good, better than while they were on the run. She hadn't been eating as well as she should have been until they settled into Schmidt's house. The fresh air and sunshine did wonders for her skin, making it glow along with the sweet, subtle smile on her lips. The light breeze stirred her reddish brown locks, and Michael held his breath in anticipation. She hooked a few errant strands with her index finger and tucked them behind her ear, the simple gesture creating a warmth deep down in his gut. How he'd missed the way she moved!

"Fiona," he whispered. He knew he would find her. He just didn't think it would be this easy. It was harder to make his leg muscles bring him to a standing position so he could cross the street and meet her.

He watched her perusing the racks of beach wear outside a small store, his eyes locked on her graceful hands as she pushed the hangers on the rack. Her eyes were hidden behind large sunglasses or he would have gazed at them and the serene expression she wore. He sat there until his heart couldn't take it anymore and he willed himself to move. Without looking, he tossed a twenty on the table, not caring about the change. The metal chair's legs scraped on the concrete, he pushed himself to stand, and like a zombie he stepped into the street to cross to her.

A horn blared, the driver yelling curses at him. Michael jumped back with hands up. "Sorry!" By the time the driver had moved on and Michael's eyes returned to his target, she was gone. "No, Fi, you can't disappear." He looked for an opening in traffic and hurried across the street, not stopping until he stood in the very spot she had just moments earlier. He turned his head, scanning the area. She couldn't have gone far in so short a time, unless he imagined her. No, she had to be real.

Fiona wasn't inside the store, and she wasn't in any of the others flanking it. Michael stood on the sidewalk, hands on hips, forcing himself to keep his breathing calm. He'd never been in such a panic over her before. A movement to the right caught his eye, and he turned in time to see the colorful flowered wrap that Fiona wore disappearing down a side street. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they moved to catch up to her.

Michael rounded the corner and found that she wasn't alone. Instincts forced him to pull back and peer around the corner. She and the tall, slim man with sandy brown hair were in conversation, and he could hear just about every word and fill in the blanks.

"You have what I need," he asked.

"I'm still working on it. Getting a dozen assault rifles of this type isn't like just walking into the supermarket and picking up the economy pack, you know," Fiona replied. "My suppliers are feeling some heat right now, and they have to be careful."

"I don't care. I need them for this operation. I need them by mid-week." The man was angry, grinding the words out between his teeth.

"I'll see what I can do. Just be warned that if this causes problems for them, it could blow back on me, and you."

"I don't care. By the time we're done, we'll be well on our way out of the country before anyone comes looking for us." He paused. "What about your boyfriend, Westen? Is he going to be a problem?"

Fiona hesitated, and Michael hoped that was a good thing. She replied with ice in her tone, "He's not my boyfriend. That's ancient history."

"I see."

"Besides, he's probably miles from here, working as usual, betraying more friends and people he loves... sorry, no need to tell you about my problems."

Michael banged the back of his head against the brick corner. He'd caused Fiona so much hurt, he wasn't sure how he could ever fix it. If she was spouting off to strangers, her wounds must run deep and ugly.

"Everybody's got problems. Maybe after this is all over we can hang out in a tiki bar somewhere in the Caribbean and iron them out."

Michael dared to look again in time to see the man caress Fiona's jawline with a provocative look in his eyes. He couldn't see Fiona's face, but she brought her hand up and with gentleness pushed his hand away, breaking the contact.

"I think your mind will be on other things at that point. I'll talk to you again in a couple of days, after I've had a chance to meet my contact." Her head tilted back as she looked into his eyes. "I promise you, I'll get those guns. That's what I do."

"Alright. Two days, and I'll meet you at the Pelican Perch."

"I'll be there, but only for business." Fiona nodded, turned away from him, and crossed the street without looking back. She returned to the main street and headed east.

Michael wanted to call out to her to make her stop, but he was afraid after the exchange that she would hear his voice and flee, so he picked up the pace and closed in on her. She didn't seem to know that he was behind her, getting nearer by the moment. A smile broke out on his face when he was only two doors away and she stopped in front of a candy store. A man who looked a lot like Campbell emerged. He was a dead ringer for the paramedic who had been Fiona's boyfriend for a brief time, and despite the way she hurt him, came to their aid when Sam was shot while they were on the run. Michael slowed his steps to follow them as the two walked away, his eyes sizing him up in disbelief.

When he turned his face to talk to Fiona, Michael realized that it wasn't Campbell at all. He was older and taller. But he still looked at her with the same dreamy expression, a smile turning up the corners of his lips just before he leaned in to kiss hers. It was only a brief peck, but it was enough. She plucked a lemon drop from a small bag he held between them and popped it into her mouth before giving him a quick kiss.

In the six months Michael had been away, Fiona found someone else and was conducting her business as if nothing had happened between them. Suddenly, he understood what he'd done to her, all the heartache he'd heaped upon her. He should have been happy that she was finally happy. After all, wasn't that really what he said he wanted for her when she met Campbell? Deep down, however, he thought she would only be happy with him and that he could play that to his advantage. Michael assumed she would always be there, but the truth had come home to roost. He was wrong and selfish, and he deserved losing her.

It was enough to make a stoic spy like himself cry.