This is completely tongue in cheek, not my usual kind of story. It's a combination of a response to a prompt from the winter_deaddrop lj community (surveillance) and one of the prompts that I gave for the AU ficathon that never got written (Nate's new wife is not who she seems to be).

When they told me my next assignment would be a deep cover operation I expected it to involve someone…you know, important.

"The best way in will probably be through the brother," they'd told me. The brother of a prince? Of the leader of a major terrorist network? Of a corrupt despot in some banana republic?

No.

They were talking about the dopey brother of a burned spy. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day looking back on my recent performance and wondering what I'd done so wrong that I deserved this kind of assignment.

The brother had an inferiority complex and an addiction to gambling. He'd also had a couple of close calls, thanks to his brother the ex-spy, which had left him questioning the direction his life should be heading. That equation added up to a man who would be susceptible to a whirlwind romance leading to a cheesy Vegas wedding and the vague promise of a happily ever after.

A job is a job though, so I spent a week trailing the younger Westen brother. I was surprised to find he actually knew a thing or two about covering his tracks. I wondered if he'd picked up the skills from his big brother, but I suspected his diligence was more force of habit for a man who was used to avoiding debt collectors.

His current drug of choice was blackjack. He frequented a local casino so I managed to get myself hired. After his first night at my table I wanted to burst my own eardrums with an ice pick. The asinine conversation, the cheesy one-liners, the not so subtle come-ons…a lesser operative would have run screaming for the hills.

But by the next morning I had Michael Westen's current cell phone number.

A few more weeks and some not so subtle hints and I was walking down the aisle and declaring my willingness to spend the rest of my life as Mrs. Nate Westen. The bonus check that I knew had been deposited into my private account made the wedding night bearable.

Soon enough we were headed out on our honeymoon. It was my suggestion that we head east towards Florida. Nate grudgingly agreed that it would be good for me to at least meet his mother. He wasn't as enthusiastic as I'd hoped he would be about returning to Miami.

He insisted on driving the whole way there, which had its pros and cons. On the one hand, the long drive gave me the opportunity to make more than a dozen contingency plans while pretending to nap. On the other hand, it meant listening to him sing along to the radio and dealing with some less than pleasant after-effects from diner meals.

People think being a female spy is all slinky cocktail dresses and poisoned lipstick, but more often than not it's dinner at a Waffle House where your feet stick to the floor and the buck-toothed waitress hits on your new husband.

Poor girl. If she only knew how happy I'd be to see them run away together…

Miami was hot, and not the nice dry heat of Nevada. It was the kind of heat that made you want to peel your skin off just so that you'd be wearing one less layer. We stopped to pick up a bottle of champagne. Nate assured me his mother would love me, but my training made it easy to spot the little tics that told me he was lying…if not to me, at least to himself. His mother's house was nice enough from the outside, but it was like walking into a meat smoker. I had an instant headache.

My ultimate goal was to establish a permanent line of surveillance on Westen and his ragtag team in Miami. We wanted to keep an eye on him and make sure he was keeping his nose out of government business. After Garza had mucked things up so badly we didn't want to take any more chances. Westen was out and he needed to learn what being burned really meant.

Madeline Westen hugged me with a mixture of relief and suspicion. If I didn't know any better I'd swear she gave me a cursory pat down during the hug. Here was a woman who knew her son and knew better than to take anything for granted, even a typically joyous occasion like meeting your new daughter-in-law.

I offered to take the champagne to the refrigerator to chill it. While I was there I used speedy fingers to wire a bug to the light bulb inside. Mrs. Westen found me with my head stuck inside as I was finishing it up.

"Everything okay in there?" she asked me. The cigarette bounced as her lips moved, a cancer-causing finger wagging disapproval.

I put on my best innocent, daughter-in-law face as I shut the door quickly. "I was just looking for a snack but I don't see much to eat...It's hard when you're avoiding protein."

Avoiding protein? Did that really just come out of my mouth? Maybe crap like that was why I got stuck with this assignment.

"Oh, really?" Sweetness covered up the suspicion in her voice. "You're hungry? I can order some take-out."

"That would be amazing!" I exclaimed and hugged her awkwardly.

I excused myself to the restroom and installed another transmitter behind a framed photo of Nate and Michael's father. I had a feeling that one wouldn't be touched anytime soon.

Michael showed up after lunch and we surprised him with the news. I never expected him to be thrilled with his brother getting married, but something was clearly on his mind. He called me by the wrong name and then pulled Nate off where they could speak privately. Before I knew it he was gone.

Later that afternoon Nate told me we'd need to stay in Miami longer than expected. He kept the gun under his shirt, but that didn't mean I didn't notice it.

I got up in the middle of the night to call my superiors. The news was not good. It just so happened another ex-spy had been spotted in town and this one actually knew me. I'd known him as Larry Wilson, but he was currently Larry Garber. Nate and I would need to wrap up this little family reunion as soon as possible so I didn't blow my cover.

My new orders became getting the mother to travel back to Vegas with us. This mission just got better and better. The office figured if we could keep her within our grasp then we could keep a finger on Michael Westen. Everyone knows, if nothing else, Michael will always take a call from his mother, and if that call were to come from a tapped phone, well…

It was risky, but Madeline Westen's track record with tapped phones was not good. I didn't think she'd ever notice.

In the morning I "accidentally" found the gun Nate was hiding. In a rush of embarrassment he told me everything. I was almost touched by his desire to maintain an open relationship with his new wife.

"Oh my God!" I feigned fear. "Do you think we're safe here? What about your mom? Maybe we should all get out of Miami!" I cowered a little in his embrace and I knew that would be enough to have him eating right out of my hand.

We approached her about the move later in the day. It did not go as well as we had hoped.

"How do you know you don't want to live there? You've never even been to Vegas! You have to at least give it a chance." I clung to Nate, trying for some kind of mind meld that would send him the right words to say in this situation.

The look on this woman's face could have melted moon rocks. I'd met rebel guerillas with less attitude than her. "I am not some old woman that you can pack away into a retirement village. You do not get to tell me where to live."

Nate was floundering. "Mom, who said anything about a retirement village? I just want you close by." His brother slipped in through the kitchen. "Some place where spies and killers aren't crawling out of the woodwork every other week."

Well, no, maybe just every other month, but Nate and his mother didn't need to know about that.

"Someplace safe," he concluded.

It was time to jump in and try to salvage things. I dialed up the sweetness. "Yeah, you know, Vegas is amazing! The weather's amazing. Some day you're going to have grandkids there. Don't you think living near them would just be…"

"Amazing?" Crap. The way she was fighting this idea made me wonder just how involved she really was with Westen's unsanctioned activities.

I wanted this conversation over, and fast. She was working on lighting a cigarette so I took the easy way out.

"You gonna smoke that in here?"

She stormed out and I breathed a sigh of relief, both literally and figuratively.

Nate tried to get his brother on board with our plan. It amused me to think that Michael would actually be assisting in my plan to establish surveillance on him. He was going soft out in the cold. Poor sap.

I was enthusiastic going into our early dinner. Surely with both boys working on her, the old bat would fold. I set the table while she was out in the garage huffing on more cigarettes. Nate shuffled off to the living room dejectedly to watch TV.

Michael showed up and suddenly Mrs. Westen was back to caring about what was going on in the house. I was beginning to see why Nate had so many issues.

By the time we all sat down though I was beginning to get nervous again. Michael broached the subject this time and she threw it back in his face too. My frustration was mounting. I would have given my right arm to be in a broiling, spider-ridden cave in Afghanistan instead of this tchotchke-infested bungalow. I needed an excuse to leave the room and talk to my superiors in private.

I eyed the sandwiches she'd prepared for us. "Ah, do those have cucumber in them? I'm allergic."

"Oh, well I have cold cuts in the fridge."

"No," I threw in for good measure. "I thought I told you, I'm trying to stay away from protein?" I stormed off just as Michael's on-again, off-again girlfriend showed up.

The news from headquarters was grim.

"She's just an old lady! You're a trained operative!"

They wouldn't believe that Madeline Westen was a more formidable adversary than any gunrunner, drug lord, or terrorist I'd ever met.

"We're sorry," they said finally. "We thought you were a young, promising operative, but if you can't even manipulate an old lady then clearly we were mistaken. You're out."

"You're burning me? Over this?" I was incredulous.

"Sorry. Nothing personal, but yes."

I was still sputtering but the line was already dead.

Nate found me later, close to tears, laying face down on the bed. He sat next to me and ran a warm hand down my back.

"It's okay," he tried to console me. "She'll come around eventually."

"It's too late," I grumbled into the comforter, fully aware that we were discussing two different issues.

He ruffled my hair. "Aww, it's never too late to make a good impression. Trust me, the world is full of second chances."

I sighed heavily and finally started to cry. What could possibly be more depressing than sympathetic words of wisdom from the patsy of your failed mission?

With no better options I maintained my cover as doting new bride and packed our bags so we could get back to Vegas. I wasn't sure what I would find there or what my next move would be but at least I'd have a roof over my head if I wanted it.

I was beginning to see the kernel of goodness in my farce of a husband so maybe I wouldn't be completely out in the cold after all.

Michael and Mrs. Westen were all smiles when we were ready to leave. I could only muster a small, pathetic wave from the safety of the car. Had I been forced to hug the woman who had just inadvertently ended my entire life's work, some of my more deeply engrained skills might have kicked in and I feared I'd end up strangling her with my bare hands.

Nate and I drove out of Miami with a combination of relief and fresh apprehension. We had a long, hard road ahead of us.