"Man is so made that he can only find relaxation from one kind of labor by taking up another." Anatole France

-00000-

North End, Tacoma, Washington, USA, December 2015, 6:47 PST

Diego Garza hated wearing brown…

Specifically the brown shorts and socks that were the de rigor uniform of the drivers of the United Parcel Service… But since it was cold enough to justify wearing pants today, he was less put out than he would have been to be playing the part of delivery driver.

And, of course, since he was doing a favor for Michael Westen, the veteran CIA agent would have worn the shorts in a blizzard if he'd had to.

As he turned the large lumbering step van onto the quiet residential streets of the popular Tacoma suburb in the early morning hours, the senior operative chuckled as he remembered how rocky a start his association with the burned spy had gotten off to.

"I'm Diego Garza. I'm the spy you're looking for…The memos say you're very, very good. You want back in…? You're trying to reach out…? Now, get the hell outta here."

When the dark haired former elite operative in the fancy sunglasses had first shown up at the large hangar at Opa Locka Airport, Agent Garza had mostly been aggravated at having the out-of-work pain in the ass hanging around making trouble for him.

"Get to know me, Diego. I'm not one of the bad guys."

Westen had been good… very, very good at making a damned nuisance of himself.

"One more question and you go from being the burned spy that I hate to the anonymous burglar I shot."

But something had happened after being assigned to be the Miami point of contact for the disgraced spook and threatening to shoot Michael for trying to use him to test the reach of some intelligence broker. Diego had decided to look into the man a little closer.

"Listen, Michael, what were you doing working with Tom Strickler? Do you know the kind of people he was in bed with? The kind of stuff he was involved in?"

The man who'd been in charge of the Agency warehouse that was the gateway to the Company's Caribbean operations had never entirely understood why Westen had chosen to shoot Strickler after initially wanting to work with him, something to do with the almost mortally wounded Irishman he'd helped load into a special plane after a fire fight at Opa Locka, which his bosses had not appreciated. But the more serious fallout from his choice to get involved in their business had been his curare–paralyzed body almost being thrown off the balcony of his fourth floor luxury apartment at 3732 Brighton Avenue by a smooth talking English assassin.

And that had been the moment when Michael Westen had gone from being a serious irritant to Diego Garza's personal savior when the ex-MI6 operative turned freelance psychopath had been the one to land on the unforgiving concrete below instead of him.

Nor would that be the last time over the past five years that the reinstated spy had been the one to save his life after Agent Garza had unwittingly become part of the team that would ultimately ferret out widespread corruption at the highest levels of the CIA.

Mason Gilroy, as it had turned out, had just been the first in a series of near misses…

So, all things considered, playing delivery driver as personal favor to his old friend was a small enough price to pay for being sufficiently alive and well to be irritated about the brown uniform while bringing some closure to the dark haired man's family in hiding.

Working with Team Westen had been everything he'd wanted to do when he'd signed up as a young agent and everything he'd thought he'd stepped away from when he'd taken the equivalent to an administrative desk job managing cargo out at the airport.

But since he was now conveying the last of those personal items Michael had left behind for his brother in the trunk of that big black Dodge Charger, which had twice ridden to Diego's rescue, the faux UPS driver knew he would soon be back in Miami.

Just in time to have a sunny Christmas with his own family, just the way he liked it.

()()()()()()()()()()()

"Door! Door! Door! Door! Door! Door! DOOOOOORRRRRRR!"

Four year old Charlie Hansen flew out of the living room, announcing at the top of his lungs that there was someone at the front entrance of their classic Craftsman home.

"Quietly, sweetheart, or you'll wake up your sister," his mother scolded softly, her smile taking the sting out of her words. Her son had spent so much of his young life being traumatized by events that were accompanied by an auditory uproar that the boy was just now discovering the uses of loud noises that didn't include gunfire or explosions.

On the other hand, the preschooler had learned to take notice of strangers at the door.

It was a little too early for her mother in law to be arriving to watch over her two small children while she and her husband Robbie were at work and besides Lynda had a key, so she wouldn't have been lingering out front. As her hand automatically drifted towards the firearm that she no longer carried every day as a part of her job, the woman now known to the world at large as Sydney Hansen leaned out of the kitchen to peer through the ornate oval of bulletproof glass at the center of her living room door.

Spotting the solid brown attire of the man leaving a parcel on her porch only marginally reduced her alertness. Any uniform store will sell you a delivery outfit and any assassin worth their salt could steal a truck. The past three years in witness protection hadn't diminished her hyper sensitivity to potential threats. Charlie sat under the kitchen table, waiting for the all clear before returning to the collection of plastic dinosaurs he'd left behind on the throw rug in the center of the restored wooden flooring of their front room.

Carefully crossing the large space that had far too many bay windows for her liking, the brunette peered out the likewise reinforced openings in time to catch the alleged UPS driver return to the idling vehicle at the curb, only to emerge again with a small package, handing it to the dark haired older woman who was making her way from her free standing apartment next door. The tiny 2BR-1BA structure that someone had managed to squeeze in on that sliver of land between her current abode and the other century-old dwelling on the next plot over from her large corner lot had made their new location the perfect find and a vast improvement over the previous plan that they all share a house.

Looking closer, the woman formerly known as Ruth Westen didn't entirely relax as she recognized the man getting back into the large step van. They had been betrayed by CIA personnel before after all… But he had been trustworthy in the past and had proven to be so thus far; therefore, she had plastered that bright ditzy smile she'd once been famous for onto her visage as her mother in law carefully made her way across the wet concrete. The rain from the day before had washed away the light accumulation of snow from the sidewalks and thankfully it was not cold enough to refreeze the participation.

She wasn't sure if she could take another round of comparisons about the weather in Tacoma at Christmas time versus the Miami of the other woman's youth this early in the morning, though admittedly it was the lack of tradecraft being displayed that set her teeth on edge whenever Madeline Westen started reminiscing about a past she no longer had. Mercifully, Lynda Hansen only did this when she was alone her youngest son, her daughter in law or both where little ears or other people couldn't hear.

Stepping onto the porch, the former operative gingerly picked up the medium size box while leaving the door open for Madeline to enter her one hundred plus year old albeit recently remodeled home. This was the second parcel to arrive without a return address, not including the small padded envelope that the older woman was carrying.

"Good morning, Lynda. Early start today?" she inquired, setting down the package to close and lock the door behind her.

"Just in case all that rain turned to ice overnight… You could break your neck—"

"You can come out now, baby. Your nana is here to see you."

Mercifully, the diatribe was halted when Charlie came rushing out of the kitchen at the sound of his mom's call and ran into his grandmother's legs. Sydney smiled as her son soon had Lynda on the floor playing dinosaurs with the little boy. She turned on the morning news out of interest in something besides the weather or the traffic. They lived within a ten minute walk of her job at the University of Puget Sound and her husband's job as a draftsman with a small local architectural firm was a twenty minute bus ride.

She was more concerned with what was happening on the national stage and how it might potentially affect them now that she had received what was presumably the second of two deliveries from her missing brother-in-law arriving covertly from Langley,11 Virginia. The first had contained Christmas presents for the kids, which she had unwrapped, examined and rewrapped with no one the wiser, and various keepsakes disguised as gifts that had received the same treatment. Ruth had suspected that Madeline or Nate would recognize some of things she did not and she'd been right.

"Continuing our coverage of the death of CIA Director William Raines due to a massive explosion in our nation's capital, here's the latest from our ABC affiliate in DC," the sunny blonde on KOMO News 4 said breathlessly before turning the air time over to a dark haired woman in a trench coat standing in front of a cordoned off street with the clear evidence of a large blast having taken place in the background behind her despite the falling snow cascading in front of the camera lens.

The corn silk color of the news anchor's hair reminded Ruth that she was due for another dye job over the weekend, though the color lasted much longer in the overcast environs of Washington State than it had during their brief time in the Lone Star State.

Madeline had had a much easier time maintaining her brunette locks since they were her natural color that she'd been bleaching blonde for almost her entire life. The silver shot through her original mousy brown made for a more attractive salt and pepper style than the darker hues she had originally favored for her alias as Lynda once she'd been whisked off to join the rest of the Hansen family in protective anonymity.

"…As you can see here behind me, teams from a number of different agencies are still processing the scene looking for evidence. Officials are not releasing any details of the investigation, although we have learned through our sources that Director Raines was one of the four confirmed dead at the scene. The identity of the other fatalities—"

If she was being honest, Ruth Westen would be hard pressed to say that she was sorry that William Raines was dead; but on the other hand, she had somehow managed to get what amounted to a happily ever after ending out of the affair at its conclusion.

So, perhaps she could afford to be gracious to the deceased after all… or not…

She'd been multiple levels of furious that she'd hidden well behind her training and admittedly limited years of field experience when Agent Engelland had left the Director's office with a special assignment that amounted to a honey trap. Her job of romancing the younger brother of one of the CIA's most infamous assets in order to keep an eye on said spy was not what she'd had in mind for her biggest job for the Company to date.

Still, the potential to observe, if not possibly work with, the legendary Michael Westen took some of the sting out of having to deal with Nate and all his addictions and foibles.

When her target had proposed after a whirlwind courtship, she'd been put in the unenviable position of having done her job too well. The blonde had known Nate's brother was suspicious and watching her, which left her with two choices: go through with the wedding or terminate the mission. Once she'd learned she was pregnant to boot, after kicking herself repeatedly for her carelessness, she'd chosen the former.

Ruth had considered dealing with Madeline Westen as part of her justly deserved punishment for failing to protect herself adequately from the potential consequences.

But then two very strange things had happened.

It was not unexpected that the elite operative would figure out what she had been doing.

"It's not like I didn't know. I have two known points of leverage in Miami, my brother and my mom. I know how the game is played, Ruth. I was on the other side, remember?"

But as she had stood there with the champagne flute unmoving in her hand, her overly cheery smile frozen on her face in that smoke-filled living room of the house on NW North River Drive while her new husband and his mother chatted in the kitchen, her recently introduced brother in law had then done something completely bewildering.

"If I couldn't handle my bosses spying on me, I wouldn't be in the business. The way I see, better a relative with training than someone I don't know. The way I see it, my sister would tell them just enough to make them happy but keep them out of my business."

And so she had, as best she could, kept the Agency at bay, in between trying to keep Nate out of trouble and having a baby all while fending off the organization as well.

"…Acting Director Rayna Kopec met with officials from the NSA, DOD and the FBI overnight to discuss their findings. Details of that meeting have not been confirmed…"

The other odd thing was that it turned out Nate Westen was not irredeemable after all.

"Hey ma," said the subject of her thoughts as he came down the stairs with their two year old daughter in his arms, who was sleepily rubbing at her face with one chubby fist.

"Well, look who's awake…" Madeline said in a sing song tone, rising to her feet to claim her namesake and leaving her grandson to continue with the dinosaur battle royal, the roaring noises increasing in volume since there was no need to stay quiet for his sister.

"Hey champ…" Nate ruffled the top of his boy's dark hair. "Is T-Rex going to win again?"

"T-Rex always wins!"

Her beloved laughed and strolled into the kitchen. "What's for lunch today, babe?"

"Leftover meatloaf," she answered in a low whisper, smirking as she finished putting a generously sized turkey sandwich into a Tupperware container.

"What did I do to piss you off?" he asked in mock horror before giving her a sound kiss.

Madeline's attempts at cooking dinner for them went better some days than others. Even when all she had to do was put the food Ruth had prepared into the oven, certain items were frequently very thoroughly cooked, especially when it came to the meatloaf.

"Did Charlie wake up Little Maddie this morning?"

"She was already up, just thought I'd save you from another round of back in Miami."

She leaned over and pressed her lips to his hairy cheek before kissing him full on the mouth. "Thank you for that," the faux brunette whispered.

Nate had started out with a moustache when they'd first moved to Texas. It hadn't been Ruth's favorite; however, Madeline's asking if her son still had that fur on his lip, Michel was right, it looked like he had a ferret on his face when his mother had first joined them in witness protection had been enough for his wife to tell Nate to grow a full beard next.

Apparently what it had taken for the younger of the Westen brothers to get his act together was someone to actually believe in him… and separate him from his former criminal associates, his mother's continual enabling and his brother's low expectations.

Instead of living down to what everyone thought of him, surrendering to his addictions, Robbie Hansen had found a way to live up to his wife's hopes for their new life.

With a little help from a couple of ex-Company operatives that is…

The buff bearded man sitting at their kitchen table staring out the window at the clearing rain clouds while chewing thoughtfully on a piece of whole wheat toast and sipping a cup of Seattle's best, one of the few holdovers of his past life she was willing to deal with, was a very different man from the skinny gambler already half in the bag when she'd seen him approach her black jack table at the Bellagio in her native Las Vegas.

"…Ms Kopec gave a brief statement to the media, but refused to answer any questions. So we will continue to speculate who their chief suspects in the bombing might be for now. But our sources say that a former rogue agent is a primary person of interest…"

Convincing Nate to move back to Miami with his family where she could keep an eye on his brother as she'd been assigned had been simple. Dealing with all of the loan sharks, former business partners, drug dealers and the rest of the crew of unsavory characters that the younger man was constantly surrounded by once he'd returned had required a little more assistance, especially if she was going to maintain her cover.

But that had been the price for keeping the Agency out of Michael Westen's business.

And as such, it wasn't long before the only thing left to save his little brother from was himself and their mother. But Ruth was far better equipped to handle that part herself, although that portion was indeed one of the most difficult assignments she'd ever had.

"…For now, we're awaiting the full results of the forensic examination of the bomb site. This is Amy Li reporting live for ABC News in Washington. Back to you in the studio..."

Knowing that an impending addition to her household would impede her ability to fend off the organization that had burned her brother-in-law and to keep them from using her new family as leverage against the recently reinstated spy, she had insisted they be put in protective custody. The body count around Michael Westen was adding up fast and the former CIA agent had no desire to contribute to the death toll hanging over his head.

"…Thanks, Amy. As speculation continues to spread about this rogue ex-spy of interest in the investigation of Director William Raines death, we turn now to our other ABC correspondent in DC, who has been given an exclusive interview with a former intelligence analyst in the Pentagon, who has agreed to speak with us anonymously."

"Can I have waffles?" Charlie asked walking into the kitchen as his mother put the finishing touches on her spouse's and her own lunch for the day after turning off the TV.

"I'll make us some French toast as soon as I get your little sister cleaned up," his grandmother called out from the living room before heading towards the staircase.

The four year old tugged on his father's shirt sleeve and leaned up on his tip toes, his expression pleading. "Please… waffles now?"

Robbie chuckled and got up, heading for the freezer. "I think we can arrange that. Maybe I'll put a couple in for your mom, too."

"Thank you," she mouthed as he leaned past her to drop two frozen Eggo's into the toaster, stealing another kiss. Sydney smiled indulgently at her boys. There was a time not so long ago such a scene of domestic bliss was far from guaranteed. Once in that federal program, the former agent knew there would be another deadline approaching.

After Jessie Porter had been murdered trying to rescue Mama Westen and escape with the NOC list, Ruth had successfully predicted that Michael's mother would be the next piece of leverage used against her super spy son once his brother's family was out of reach, which meant that her mother-in-law would be joining them in hiding very soon.

And that meant the ex-operative only had a very limited amount of time to tell her new husband the truth about who she had been and why they had met before she had an unwanted addition to that conversation. Unfortunately, the phone call from Rebecca Lange had come a lot sooner than she had been hoping and it had forced her hand once the other Mrs Westen and her Agency escort were in-route to their location.

They'd packed up their condo in the Tarrytown neighborhood in record time and spread the word even quicker that they were moving in with her mother in Holland, Michigan, while her spouse found them a new place near his new job in Minneapolis-St Paul.

So after their two-year-old son had been settled down in his temporary bedroom at the safe house while they awaited the arrival of his grandmother and her Company cadre, ex-Agent Engelland had been out of time and excuses for not coming clean. But sitting Nate down to tell him his mother was on her way had been nothing compared to what came next. His stony silence throughout her entire tale had been utterly unnerving.

"I always wanted to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time," she'd concluded, awkwardly perched on the edge of couch because of the blossoming evidence of the most recent consummation of their relationship covered by a loose blue maternity top centered between them and then she had watched with growing dread as the man she'd come to love had gotten to his feet and had begun to pace before her.

"Is that so? Wasn't the right time when we met, wasn't the right time when we started dating. Why wasn't it the right time before we got married or maybe it was the right time when we moved back to Miami? Nope, it was the right time to tell me when my ma was gonna show up at our front door. That about right, Ruth, or is that even your name?"

Mr Westen had been deeply hurt by the revelation that his loving wife had in fact been an CIA spy sent to watch him, once again finding himself in his older brother's shadow. However, it seemed that the apologies she had offered next had fallen just as flat as her careful explanations for how they had arrived at the place they had found themselves.

"That's why I told Raines I wanted out, that I wasn't going to let them use us anymore. I demanded that they send us into witness protection… I couldn't risk Charlie… or you anymore… because I fell in love with you… because I wanted our life… us together."

Nate had left then, telling her he needed to be alone, leaving her to send up silent prayers that the former addict had not been headed for the Full House Card Room or The Hideout Pub or worse yet the Parmer Lane Tavern to sort out his wounded feelings.

In retrospect, she would consider her emotional upheaval at the time as complicit as her advanced state of pregnancy for her lack of tactical awareness when her mother in law had shown up in the company of Rebecca Lange. Mrs Westen's super spy son had vouched for the CIA agent ushering her across country from the burned out wreckage of her Miami home of forty plus years, so the Ruth had no concrete reason to be wary of the tough blonde woman who had introduced herself as the head of their security detail.

Despite a smile that was a little too shark-like for her taste, the former operative could find no fault in the tactical plan set before her. Agent Lange had done a sweep of the house with half of her team before sending the pair inside to join the other two outside. Afterwards, she had delivered the dossiers on their new identities they were to learn.

And possibly Madeline's near constant stream of complaints and criticisms from the moment the older woman had arrived and discovered that her youngest had not been there waiting to greet her with open arms in her exile had something to do with it too.

"So, where has Nate gone off to? I thought Michael said you two had straightened him out. You look like you could pop any day now. Isn't he supposed to be here? I hope he's not up to his old tricks, what with you ready to have a baby at any minute and we're supposed to be doing what, learning new identities? Where are we going anyway?"

Given the looks of sympathy and eye rolls that the woman in charge had given her behind the older woman's back when she'd returned from her latest patrol, as the other Mrs Westen had continued to grumble whilst flipping through the identity paperwork provided had made ex-Agent Engelland begin to worry about what else Madeline might have said on her trip from Miami to Austin that was a security concern in addition to being potentially embarrassing or just plain inappropriate. But Lange had smiled at her tightly this time before slipping out the back door, like she knew something Ruth didn't.

And the bottle blonde's aggrieved monologue hadn't stopped the ex-spy from noticing when the head of their security detail had dismissed their other bodyguards as Rebecca had allegedly been to be doing a perimeter check on their should-be secured location.

"Michael is all alone back in Miami. I should have never let him talk me into leaving him… At least then I'd be able to smoke in my own house right now instead of having it burned to the ground and being dragged across the country in the middle of the night… Why don't I go peek in on Charlie and see if my grandson is still sleeping okay."

Her maternal side had wanted to tell her son's grandmother to let him be; however, her tactical sensibilities had been grateful for the distraction. As soon as Maddie had left the living room, Ruth had been rifling through the kitchen drawers in search of her Glock 22. She might have been reeling from pregnancy hormones and stress at the moment, but there was no way she'd misremembered hiding her service weapon within quick reach.

Opening the large back windows and not seeing or hearing anyone, the former spy had slipped into the other bedroom. Digging into her bag, she'd quickly retrieved her backup gun and loaded a full clip into the Walther PPK/S 380 before slipping another into the back pocket of her maternity jeans and attempting to position the pistol into the back of her waistband where it could have been easily accessed under her large floaty top.

Her paranoia had been proved right when she'd tried to call Nate on her mobile. First her gun went missing and now a cell phone jammer… and not a land line in sight!

She had been checking the view in the cul-de-sac, peering through the iron security bars of the older frame and stucco home and at the locks on the sturdy solid oak front door when Ruth heard the only other exit from dwelling open. Then the heavily booted footsteps coming from the kitchen area had crushed her hopes that Nate had returned.

"Agent Lange…" She'd plastered that silly smile that went with her legend firmly on her face as she'd angled to put some furniture between them for cover. "Where's the rest of the team? I'm sure they'd like some coffee or at least some water while we're waiting."

"No need. We've had a security breach, so I sent them back to base and contacted another team to meet us. We'll be waiting here for them to arrive with a secure van."

"A security breach…? What are you talking about? I thought you said we were safe."

Ruth had suppressed a groan at Madeline's ill-timed entry into the conversation, but then had hoped she could use the older woman as a distraction to cover her actions.

"We're good here for now. You just need to stay in the back room away from the windows," their alleged Company caretaker had informed them, gesturing towards the rear of the house to encourage the pair to move into the back. "We'll be leaving soon."

"We may be good here, but Nate is out there somewhere. What happens if—"

"Your son isn't here? How long has he been gone?" Agent Lange had frowned at the announcement one of her charges was missing. "Any idea where he might be…?"

"Ask her," Madeline had snapped, giving her disliked daughter-in-law the evil eye. "He certainly wasn't here when I got here. God only knows what he's up to this time. If-"

And then other Mrs Westen's luck had gone from bad to worse, because at that moment, her little boy had wandered out of the bedroom, complaining about a bad dream before he had become part of his mother's worst nightmare. She could only get one of her children out of the house, but she'd do what she could to protect her son.

"Madeline, why don't you take Charlie next door so he can say goodbye to Rover. You know how much he loved that dog. Just like your boys loved that puppy their dad got them for Christmas." She smiled big at Rebecca as she directed the boy towards his grandmother, praying that the other woman was paying attention to all the code words that Michael had instructed her to use with his mother if there was an emergency.

She had turned towards what she believed was a hitman for the organization that had burned her brother in law and continued, "Nate's next door thanking them for keeping the dog. We can't take him with us, of course, and they were so nice to take him."

"Why didn't you say that before?" the bottle blonde had demanded. "And what the hell are you talking about? Frank would have never allowed the boys to keep a dog, much less have gotten them one. Michael didn't mention anything about you getting Charlie a dog. He said you were going to have a girl, little Maddie, not start your own menagerie. So, you're telling me Nate was too busy giving away some mangy mutt-"

It had taken all of ex-Agent Engelland's training not to react visibly to her circumstances.

Spies try to stay detached. When you get emotional about something, especially if it's your mother-in-law completely ignoring a pre-established safety protocol, you get distracted. And getting distracted can be very, very dangerous.

Managing to keep from gritting her teeth in frustration, but only just, she had turned her back partially on Rebecca, a tactical risk, and then with a smile that definitely did not reach her eyes plastered on her face, Ruth had tried again, emphasizing the key words her super spy son should have taught the older blonde for just such an occasion.

"I must have been mistaken. I was sure Nate said Frank got them a puppy. I definitely remember Michael saying they had a dog called Rover. Why don't you take Charlie and go ask Nate about it yourself."

"Maybe we should all go and get Nate?" Agent Lange grinned and then before his mom could stop her, the statuesque operative took two quick steps across the room and took hold of her son's arm. "What do you say, Charlie? You want to go find your daddy?"

There had been a startled gasp from Madeline, either finally realizing she'd been missing important cues or at last perceiving the danger her grandson was in, and she'd reached out to grasp Charlie's other arm, causing the toddler to squeal in fear and pain.

Time had decelerated in that same bizarre way it had when her boy was born and Ruth saw the almost imperceptible movement of Rebecca's gun hand towards her firearm in slow motion, giving her time to retrieve her own weapon from under the loose folds of her maternity top, but not before Agent Lange had her S&W Bodyguard .380 auto out.

"Wow. Anson warned me you were good. I guess he was right." The traitorous agent had released her son, but had started to slowly inch towards the pregnant woman who had her automatic pointed at the blonde's head with her own gun arm fully extended.

"That's far enough," Ruth had warned, holding her weapon steady.

"After listening to Madeline over there on the ride in from Miami, I was sure you'd lost your edge from hanging around playing stay-at-home-mommy all this time."

"And you were working with Anson the whole time. Let me guess, overpressured rounds right? It's your ammunition in Anson's warehouse that Michael found over in Tampa."

"That's how Anson is. Once he gets his claws in you, that's it. Now, drop it, sweetie."

"No, I can't do that." Ruth had circled to put herself between Madeline and Charlie as the deadly standoff had continued. She had heard rather than seen the older woman shield her little boy behind her, moving onto the other side of the couch.

There are dozens of ways to disarm a woman with a gun but unfortunately they all come with a risk that the gun will go off. No matter how good you are, it's not something you wanna try with a child present.

Rebecca had taken another step towards the former operative, lowering her aim slightly to point weapon directly at her unborn child.

"I'm not asking, I'm telling. I'm the one wearing the vest, Ruthie. I've seen your range scores. You're not fast enough to get in a head shot before I shoot you, one of your kids or both at the same time. Now, put the piece down nice and easy."

"You shoot me, the other agents will hear the shot and they will come after you."

"They're too far away to hear and you know it, even with the windows open. Nice try. It's not too late to change your mind, Ruth. You can walk away from this now. No one is coming to rescue you and you're in over your head, lady. You might have been good enough to play babysitter for Michael's brother once, but you're no Michael Westen."

That was when Madeline had had enough and grabbed a nearby lamp to hurl at Agent Lange with a flurry of curses before pushing her grandson to the ground. Ruth had dropped low and Rebecca's first shot had gone high, clipping her in the shoulder as she returned fire with a shout of pain. Unfortunately, this caused her return volley to impact the Kevlar covering her opponent's body instead of any vital area.

But she hadn't calculated on having to actually fire and her stance had been wrong, the kickback causing her step awkwardly while she had been trying to get behind cover.

Cringing at the rapid explosion of gunfire, Ruth had waited for the rest of her limbs to alight in agony or hear screams come from behind the couch. But what she'd heard instead was the sound of a door slamming over the ringing in her ears and then one more shot from a Glock cutting through the muffled silent of the room.

"Michael Westen says hello, bitch."

Watching her four year old now, sitting on his father's lap and shoveling syrup saturated waffles into his mouth, her heart swelled with pride for her husband. It had been Nate who had taken her service Glock, not Rebecca, when he'd gone out earlier in the evening and it had been Nate who had returned home in time to witness the standoff between his wife and the rogue CIA agent, who had fired off two perfect rounds through the open kitchen window and into the back of Agent Lange's skull, killing her instantly and then one more for good measure as he'd stood over her still twitching body.

"I was going to make French toast for him," Madeline protested when she returned to the kitchen with her tiny namesake all cleaned up and ready for her day happily gurgling in her grandmother's arms, finally shattering the remainder of Ruth's distracted reverie.

"Daddy makes… best breakfast," Charlie mumbled through mouthfuls of food.

"Yes, he does," his mother agreed with a laugh, stuffing a bit of her own buttered Eggo into her mouth. "Finish up, baby. Daddy needs to leave soon if he's going to make the bus on time."

And soon enough after a flurry of hugs and kisses from all involved, Robbie Hansen was out the door to head for the bus stop to start his day and Sydney was off to finish dressing before heading out into the cold damp of the Tacoma morning to her final day of work before the start of Christmas vacation.

"What's that you have there, Lynda?" the faux brunette asked when she returned to the living room where her mother in law was standing next to the CD player nearby where her grandchildren with playing with blocks and dinosaurs on the enormous thrown rug.

"I'm not sure," the older woman answered, offering the jewel case to Ruth.

It's Not Over… The Hits So Far… the title on the cover declared. "I didn't know you were a Daughtry fan," she remarked, opening the case to read the liner notes inside.

"I didn't know I was either…Never heard of the guy."

Deciding that there must be more to this than met the eye considering who had delivered the disc personally to Michael's mother, Ruth loaded the CD into the player and powered it up.

~~ Ten miles from town and I just broke down
Spitting out smoke on the side of the road~~

The former agent wrinkled her brow. According to the track list, this was the eighth song… CDs don't usually start in the middle. There must be some kind of message there. Ruth looked at the lyrics in the booklet inside. No hidden codes in there as far as she could tell. But then again, it might only be something Madeline would know.

"Does this song mean anything to you?"

~~I'm out here alone, just trying to get home
To tell you I was wrong, but you already know~~

"It means Michael's out there all alone," his mother sniffed. "I know you and Nate… I mean, Robbie need me, but I worry about Michael. He's got no family with him."

~~Believe me, I won't stop at nothing to see you
So I've started running~~

"Do you think it means he's coming home for Christmas?" Ruth tried to keep incredulity out of her voice as she asked the question. In her opinion, Michael had made it very clear by having the various mementos delivered to his brother's family in witness protection that wherever his final mission was taking him, it was a one-way journey.

~~All that I'm after is a life full of laughter
As long as I'm laughing with you~~

"I can only hope… I mean, I do love my life here with my grandchildren and my son… and you too of course," the older woman amended hastily. Since demonstrating and then re-teaching the entire family the tradecraft that Michael had never properly done, Sydney's stock had risen quite high in Lynda's book. "But I worry about Michael…"

~~And I think that all that still matters is love ever after
After the life we've been through~~

The former agent thought about what little she'd received in covert communications since going into their current deep cover and what the death of CIA Director Raines meant in terms of what was going on with her missing brother in law. Were they going to have to move again? She really didn't want to have to go through another incident like the one with Rebecca Lange, although at least they were better prepared this time.

~~'Cause I know there's no life after you~~

"There must be some message in here," Ruth declared. "There has to be…" From what she knew of Madeline's sons, they had developed elaborate codes and signals for communicating covertly long before her eldest had ever set foot in Langley, Virginia.

Skimming through the liner notes booklet, she looked for words or phrases that looked out of place and then concentrated on the lyrics to the particular song. The CD had been set to start on that one for a reason. Reviewing what she personally knew of Michael as well as what her husband had told her, there was no way the song meant what it did at face value. It was about returning to a lost lover, not a lost parent and particularly not one with which he'd had such a difficult relationship.

~~Last time we talked, the night that I walked
Burns like an iron in the back of my mind~~

But the other Mrs Westen had tears in her eyes, apparently considering it an apology.

~~I must have been high
To say you and I weren't meant to be
And just wasting my time~~

And while she would have been happy for Madeline if that was actually the case, the younger woman was fairly certain that her mother in law was missing some crucial.

~~Oh why did I ever doubt you?
You know I would die here without you.~~

"Oh, Michael, I'm so sorry," she sniffled and excused herself to get a tissue.

~~All that I'm after is a life full of laughter
As long as I'm laughing with you~~

Redoubling her efforts at analysis, Ruth finally found what she was looking for in the acknowledgements for the song. Charlie stood up and wrapped his arms around his grandmother's leg as she came back into the room.

"Don't be sad, Nana… It's Christmas."

"Lynda, look at this… Does this mean anything to you? I planted an orange tree, just like we talked about," she read the odd phrase tucked into the credits for the vocals, guitars and so forth on the track they were listening to. Staring hard at the slick heavy paper, the former spy was convinced that the message had been inserted into the original materials. She'd have to get a microscope from the lab to prove it but…

~~And I think that all that still matters is love ever after
After the life we've been through~~

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"It says: I planted an orange tree, just like we talked about. Does that mean anything?"

Holding her hand over her mouth, Madeline really started to sob then, causing her namesake to begin to cry as well, the toddler reacting to the stress of everyone around her. Ruth scooped her daughter up off the floor, swaying and shushing her with soft nonsense words while Charlie attempted to comfort his grandmother.

~~'Cause I know there's no life after you~~

The faux brunette shut the CD off then and bit her lip, uncertain of what to say now. "Was it a message from Michael?"

His mother nodded, still unable to speak.

"Annnnnnddddd was it what you thought it was about?" Ruth asked.

She shook her head no and wiped her eyes. "It's good news. He's happy."

"O-kay…"

Madeline sat down and patted the cushion on the coach next to her for Charlie to join her. Putting one arm around her grandson, she used her other hand to wipe her eyes one more time. Drawing a deep breath, Madeline smiled slightly at her daughter in law through her watery eyes before explaining.

"Right before I left to meet you in Austin, before we burned the house down… the last time I talked with Michael…" She sniffled a moment and then continued. "I told him he should find a nice girl and settle down once this was all over with. I told him having a family was like planting an apple tree."

The expression on Ruth's face plainly said she had no idea what the other Mrs Westen was talking about and it must have mirrored her son's expression at the time, because the former bottle blonde laughed and said as much.

"You know, when you have kids, they turn out to be just like you; little apples that don't fall far from the tree. Michael told me maybe I should have planted an orange tree. You see?" Her smile brightened as she dabbed at her misty blue eyes. "It's done and over now. It has to be… he's found a girl and he's happy now."

"Are you happy now, Nana?" Charlie asked, pleased that the older woman had stopped crying.

"Yes, sweetheart," she told him, kissing the top of his head. "I just got the best Christmas present ever."

And the former CIA agent decided then and there, who was she to argue with that?

()()()()()()()()()()()()

A/N: A very Merry Christmas to all the Burners out there! It's been a year again for an update and once again, I will promise to finish this AU tale before the end of next year! We have an epilogue and a finale to go to wrap this up and we will be seeing Fiona and Michael again before the end, I promise, as happily ever after-ish will continue as we conclude this Twilight Zone version of our favorite couple!