Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it.

Another burning question (pardon the pun!) that I had after watching episode 7.13 Reckoning.

A mother's love knows no bounds, and sometimes she'll do anything, make any sacrifice, to save her son.

Caught In the Middle

By WritePassion

"Mrs. Westen. Mrs. Westen?"

Ruth glared at the speaker, the perky nurses' aide, Delilah, who seemed to work extra hard to dispel the negative connotations of her name. Ruth knew she would never miss her. She felt a tingle of anticipation, knowing that in a little while she would be released from the rehab center. She was clean, sober, and in her right mind. She wouldn't let Nate's death touch her heart anymore. How it had to begin with, well, it must have been an aberration, a side-effect of the self-medicating she'd been doing to deal with every day life.

"Your ride is here," Delilah said.

"Thanks." Ruth let out a breath laden with trepidation, despite her excitement over being free.

Ruth hefted her suitcase and bag, slung her purse over her shoulder, and left the room that served as her prison for the past ninety days. She wouldn't miss the single bed's hard mattress or the lack of privacy. For ninety days, she felt as if she couldn't breathe without someone knowing. Very shortly, she would inhale the sweet air of freedom.

Jackie, her soon to be ex-roommate, lay stomach down on the matching twin bed making a chain from gum wrappers. She was barely seventeen and had already gotten herself into a world of trouble. To combat her addictions, she chewed gum day and night, almost non-stop. That chomping almost drove Ruth to prevent the girl from ever making it to eighteen, but she'd learned the art of restraint. That skill would serve her well in the real world when alcohol tempted her, or the painkillers came into her line of sight.

"Hey, Ruthie, good luck," Jackie said around a large wad of gum. "Hope I never see you again, no offense."

"Yeah, same to you." Ruth left the room and on her way to the exit suffered many more goodbyes, some tearful, others a simple nod of blank faces and jealous eyes. The good wishes stuck in her skin like barbs that irritated her, bringing back the memories of how she wound up in that place.

The cops dragged her there in the middle of the night after Child Protective Services wrenched Charlie away from her crying and screaming for his mama. They had no right to do that to them, and to imprison her in this happy little place hidden away in the Rocky Mountains. The nearest highway was almost five miles away down a long, winding, single lane road. Through the woods, the treacherous footing and steep drops cost some residents, at the very least some privileges, and at the worst, brought them some quality time in the clinic with no painkillers. Torture. It was pure torture what these maniacs did to them. Ruth celebrated inside and couldn't wait until she found Charlie.

The last her lawyer told her was that Charlie had been given to his Grandma Maddie in Florida. She suspected that the people in charge hoped that keeping him as far away as possible aided in her focus on rehabilitation. She cleared every hoop they threw in her way, she beat them at their game, and now she obsessed over finding Charlie.

In therapy, the counselor stressed goals. Ruth's first goal involved getting to Miami, and if that meant breaking into her savings, so be it. She vowed to sacrifice everything to get her son. On the flight she closed her eyes and imagined banging on Madeline Westen's door. When it opened, Ruth stormed inside, found Charlie, and snatched him into her arms and ran out with Maddie screaming behind her. She smiled at such a victory.

But no, she would have to do this legally, or they might question her sanity and return her to rehab. Charlie would forget her because no one would let him visit. The horror of such a thing caused a lump to form in her throat and a soft sob escaped. The man next to her eyed her with suspicion. She ignored him, sighed, and glanced at her watch. Soon she would be on the ground and heading to the law office.

She barged into the reception area of Biddle, Dawson, and Piper still toting her suitcase and travel bag. The receptionist raised an eyebrow but remained professional as she asked, "May I help you, ma'am?"

"My name is Ruth Westen. I need to see Portia Dawson. It's a matter of life or death," Ruth blurted and focused on the woman instead of the reactions of the few seated around the room waiting to see their lawyers.

"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't. Like I said, this is really important. My son's life is at stake." Ruth drummed her nails on the marble countertop.

The receptionist pursed her lips and punched a button. "I'll see what I can do."

"Yes, you do that. A three year old boy is in danger. He needs me, not that washed up, old, chain-smoking, pill-popping hag the state calls a Grandma."

Ruth sat in a chair near the offices and waited, her crossed leg bouncing her foot in the air. Deep down, she wanted a drink so bad, but she had to keep it together until Charlie nestled safely in her arms. Then she would never need another drop, because he would help her keep sober With Nate gone and his crazy ideas of parenting, Ruth had free license to do the right thing. Part of her missed Nate, until she remembered how he coddled Charlie at times and hugged and kissed him so much, Ruth began to wonder about him. Nate always said it was because of his upbringing, and how his father never showed his love to his kids. He went overboard, if you'd ask her. It was almost sick. Nate deserved to be put away, not her.

How the state could ever make such a mistake as to give her son to the woman who screwed up Nate and his big brother Michael, the spy, it was beyond her comprehension. She hoped that when she approached Madeline that Charlie would still be alive. God only knew what sort of health problems he had now from residing in that woman's home where the smoke was thicker than an LA smog, and she ate, horrors of horrors!, meat! The thought wrenched Ruth's stomach. She probably fed Charlie some cucumbers and he had an allergic reaction and died.

Before Ruth's active imagination could race down that road, the door opened and Ms. Prissy Receptionist said, "Ms. Dawson will see you, Mrs. Westen."

"I'm sorry, Ruth. Mrs. Westen, I mean, Madeline, Charlie's grandmother..." Portia hesitated. "Some men were after her. We don't know why, but a woman led Madeline and Charlie away and blew up the house. Not long afterwards, Madeline was killed in an explosion at another location."

"Charlie? Where is Charlie?" Ruth sniffled, hoping her fears were unfounded.

"It's believed that... that Charlie died in the explosion with Madeline Westen."

"No!" Ruth screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring that it might give her a one-way ticket to a padded cell.

"I'm sorry. The police didn't find his remains, but being a small child and the heat from the fire..."

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Ruth shrieked and the walls shook with agony that brought her to her feet and instantly dropped her to the floor in a sobbing mess. "No, Charlie, my baby! No!"

Strong hands lifted her, and a soft, strange male voice said, "Mrs. Westen, come with us. We'll call someone to come get you."

"No," she exclaimed and wrenched herself away from his perfectly manicured fingers. The self-defense courses she took many years ago came in handy. She turned and backed away from him and Portia, who stood behind and to the side of the strong man. "You're not sending me back there. I won't go." She pointed at them. "I think you're lying to me. I trusted you, Ms. Dawson. You promised Charlie would be safe!"

"Mrs. Westen, I did everything I could," Portia said with sorrow in her voice.

"Lies! Don't worry, I'll find him. I don't believe my baby boy is dead. Someone is keeping him, and I will find him, and I swear that whoever it is, they'll wish they'd never been born. Charlie is my son," Ruth exclaimed through gritted teeth and poked herself in the chest with her index finger, while tears rolled from her eyes and dripped onto her blouse. "He's my son, and no one can take him away."

Ruth turned and fled, leaving everything but her purse behind. She wouldn't need those things anyway. Clothes and personal effects slowed her down. She sensed that she needed to find Charlie fast, and the only way to do that was to start at the house where Madeline lived. To think that Ms. Dawson thought she was so gullible as to believe that story about the house blowing up and the woman dying with Charlie. She would find Madeline at her home and take Charlie exactly as she imagined it. She had one stop to make first. Madeline Westen, her son Michael, and his friends all liked to play with fire. The only way to be victorious involved having to fight fire with fire.

Ruth stood on the corner and stared at the charred rubble. Other than some masonry and the concrete steps, not much else remained of Madeline Westen's home. She gaped and wondered who could have done this, how could they have destroyed it so quickly? Surely her little side trip to a shady gun store in Overtown didn't afford anyone time to wreak this disaster.

Remnants of yellow police tape fluttered in the wind, tied to trees along the sidewalk. Obviously this had happened awhile ago, and her suspicions were confirmed when she reached out to touch a charred beam. It was cold and disintegrating from the heavy rains. Ruth heard swishing and whirled to see an older woman stepping across the lawn with a sad smile on her face.

"A-are you looking for Madeline?" She stopped and squinted, studying Ruth. She gasped and a hand flew to the space over her heart. "Oh my, it's you! You're Ruth, Madeline's daughter-in-law! I recognize you from the pictures!" Her smile widened and she held out a hand. "My name is Laura. I knew Maddie for almost fifty years. She was such a dear neighbor." Laura sighed and her entire upper body sagged with the effort. "It's simply tragic, isn't it."

"I don't follow you," Ruth said. Here she would finally get answers. Laura looked like a sweet old woman, a busybody type, and surely she would be only too eager to spill all the juicy details.

"Why don't we go to my house? It's just across the street, and I was just going to have some tea when I saw you out here." She sighed again, the heaving sound like a final breath wheezing from her. "At my age, I can't stand in this sun too long."

"Sure." Ruth followed her inside the house.

The living room smelled of ointment and musty old furniture, but she perched herself on the edge of the couch where Laura invited her to sit. She soon found herself holding onto a saucer, dripping honey into her tea, and acting civilized when she really wanted to shake the woman to entice her to get to the point.

"Madeline left here about a month ago. That young woman, Fiona, came in a hurry, took Madeline and Charlie away, and all of a sudden the house went 'boom'! Pieces of it flew into the air and landed on my roof. The Spanish moss caught fire and I was afraid I would lose my own home." Laura tsked and shook her head. "As you can see, nothing happened."

Laura jabbered on, talking about how she hadn't heard from Madeline and didn't know what happened until she saw the newspaper and read about hers and Charlie's deaths. Then Michael Westen and Fiona Glenanne also died in a mysterious explosion.

"It was all such a mess," Laura said, and her head swung side to side in a display of pity for her friend and her family. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Westen. I wish I had better news for you about your son."

"Thank you, Mrs..."

"Laura. Call me Laura," the older woman said with a thin smile that trembled out her sadness. "Is there anything I can do to help? If there is, please let me know."

"Thank you, but I think I've taken up too much of your time already," Ruth said, marveling inside with how well she controlled herself. She rose, and Laura escorted her to the door. At the last moment, she turned. "Well, there might be one thing. Do you know the names of Michael's friends?"

"Uh, well, there were those two fellows that spent a lot of time over there. One of them, the tall man, bald he was, uh, his name is Jesse. Yes, Jesse Porter. The other one, the older man with the wild Hawaiian shirts and the scruffy chin... Sam Axe. Yes, that's right." Laura smiled, hoping the information would help Ruth.

"Thank you, Laura. That's all I needed." Ruth grinned. "Thank you. Maybe they can tell me what really happened to Charlie. I'll never believe he died until I can see his remains for myself." She studied Laura through slitted lids. "Have you any children, Laura?"

"Yes, a son who's grown and moved north. Why?"

Ruth nodded and her smile spread across her face. "Then you understand that I won't stop until I know where my son is, and he is in my arms."

"Good luck, Ruth." Laura clasped her hand.

Ruth slid hers away and knew she would have the smell of Ben Gay clinging to her for miles. "Thanks, Laura."

After Laura closed the door, Ruth sauntered to the street, balanced on the curb, and scanned the remains of Madeline's house. The sight shored up her resolve. She would find Charlie, and no one would stop her from taking him. He was hers. He belonged with her. She was the best mother for him, not some stranger.

Ruth reached into the depths of her purse and caressed the semi-automatic inside. Jesse Porter and Sam Axe would tell her the truth, even if she had to make them bleed to do it.