A/N- I don't know, just a random thought, a tag to Past and Future Tense.

When you're Michael Westen dealing with Miami political figures and police, anyone who has ever worked for the CIA, and Russians is always a hassle. They know your name and they know your story, but what they don't know is who you really are. When you are Michael Westen you work hard to ensure that no one know who you really are. So when you find any of these people or when any of them find you, you have to be patient. Talk slowly and use their perception of you to your own advantage.

"Who are you?" The man in front of me demanded in a heavy accent. His hands and feet were tied. I was about to put tape across his mouth, and throw him in the back of the Charger. I smiled. I loved that question, there were so many answers to it. I could be Michael McBride, the Irish spy. I could be Jimmy Glinn, the flashy money launderer from Boston. But when dealing with Russians it was always the most fun to be Michael Westen, American covert operations.

"Michael Westen." I answered, watching emotions flash across his face. Mostly surprise. And then shock. I smiled again.

"Yes, that Michael Westen." I said in response. I pushed the tape over his mouth, cutting off his sputtering and slammed the trunk closed.

I drove quickly to the police department, and pulled the Russian out of my trunk. Detective Paxson walked out of the building, right on time. I had called earlier, and told her that I could solve on of her more challenging cases, again. As pig-headed as she was, an offer of help from me couldn't be ignored.

"Mr. Westen, how are you?" Paxson asked, looking at the Russian greedily.

"Good to see you Detective. I'm fine. I even brought you a present." I said, fake smiling and pushing the man toward her.

"Thank you Mr. Westen. Remember, I am always watching." She told me as I walked back to my car. The Russian looked fearfully from me to Paxson. He didn't seem happy about the confirmation that I really was Michael Westen. I put on my sunglasses and nodded, walking away from Paxson.

"Have fun." I told her out of the passenger window, as I drove down the street.

Back at the loft, Fi lounged on the bed while Sam rummaged through the fridge.

"Did Paxson like your gift?" Fiona asked.

"She told me that she was 'always watching.' So I guess that's a yes." I told her. Sam smiled.

"Who did you tell him you were?" He asked, sitting in my green chair.

"I went with the classic Michael Westen."

"Did he...?" Fi asked giggling. I sighed.

"Yes." I answered.

"So what did you say?" Sam questioned.

"'Yes, that Michael Westen.'" I quoted myself.

"Sam, I need you to go check on my mother. She called me earlier. Could you...?" I continued. He nodded and shot me an important look. A look that said 'don't you dare do what I think you are going to do.' I nodded, though I was planning on doing exactly what he thought I was going to do.

"You really need to stop dealing with Russians, Michael." Fiona said, pulling my jacket off my shoulders once Sam's car was out of ear-shot. I smiled down at her.

"How about the Irish?" I asked, whispering in her ear.

"Let's experiment with that." Fi said, pulling me toward the bed and kissing me.

"Okay." I shrugged out of my shoes.

"Wait. Who are you?" Fiona asked, pulling me closer.

"Michael Westen." I answered. She faked shock.

"Yes, that Michael Westen." I slipped the straps off Fi's arms.

"Lovely." She whispered in my ear.