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Week
Fourteen:
The
good thing about Fi feeling better is that she's feeling better. She's up and
about and moving around and the fear that Michael feels when he sees her lying
around looking sick and uninterested in everything has vanished.
The
bad thing about Fi feeling better, and being up and about and doing things is
that she wants to be doing jobs, which has created an entirely new fear for
Michael.
He's
never relished the idea of Fi in danger. Granted his idea of 'in danger' is a
few hundred degrees higher than anyone else's, but still, when his
spidey-senses tingle about a job being a problem, he doesn't want her near it.
This
generally does not lead to fun conversations between them, and he usually
regrets trying to keep her away from the dangerous stuff, because as she's
pointed out, by saving his ass, repeatedly, if there's danger to be had, he's
much better off with her as back-up.
But
this is different. There's the sensation he feels when she's in danger, and
it's cold and horrible and he hates it, but this is... deeper, primal. It's his
balls trying to crawl deep into his body and hide while ice shoots down his
spine and his eyes want to close and escape from the truth of it. He doesn't
think he's ever been scared motionless before, but, right now, while Fi hits
the accelerator and they speed toward the Keys at close to 130 miles an hour,
needing to get a site set before Sam gets there, he's awfully close.
The
good thing about being scared motionless is that he's not going to distract
her. Rationally, he knows she's a better driver than he is. Rationally, he
knows they're safe. It's almost 2:00 in the morning, so there's no other
traffic on the road. But he can feel the vibrations of the car, feel the light
cross breeze off the ocean, and he's very aware they're on an extremely long
bridge with no margin for error if anything goes wrong. It's dark, so he can't
see the ocean next to them, but he knows it's there, cold and black, and
waiting for the wind to pick up a little or for a bump in the road to hit the
tire, or just something to go wrong.
Apparently
he's sitting in the passenger seat, clutching the arm rests, with his eyes
closed.
"Michael,
are you okay?"
He
might be scared stiff, but he's not scared stupid. Now is really not a good
time to be arguing about keeping her out of danger.
"Fine,
Fi."
"You
don't look fine."
He
manages a smile at her. "Fine, really."
"When
did you become such a bad liar?"
"Could
we maybe do this when you're not driving us at 130 miles an hour through the
dark to go set up a fake drug smuggling operation for Sam?"
"Are
you scared?"
"Do
I sound scared?"
"Yes."
He
forces his fingers to let go of the armrests. "I wish we had some real
coke to sell this deal. Sam's gonna be in a lot of trouble if they notice all
he's got to sell is fifty kilos of baking soda."
"If
it gets to that point, we'll get him out, and move onto plan B."
"You've
got a plan B?" This is better, talking tactics relaxes him, moves his
focus.
"Bring
in Jesse to play the coke dealer that's screwed Sam?"
"No.
Chuck Finley's the sort of man who would have tested the coke before taking
it... Bring in Jesse as the 'loyal'
employee who's stealing from him?"
"Better
yet, if they move to test it, we'll have a distraction ready to go, spring it
on them, and they'll run. Do you think you can get something that'll sound like
a fake DEA raid ready to go in the background?"
"Fi,
just getting this set is going to be awfully close."
"Rival
gang?"
He
thinks about it as she downshifts and exits toward the warehouse they're
heading to.
"I
can get something that'll look like a rival gang set up."
**********************************
Hours
later, as they're driving, sedately, him at the wheel, home from what was a
successful "cocaine" buy, one that would soon cause Carlos Riveira's
boss to become deeply unhappy about the fact that he just spent a million
dollars on baking soda. That buy will, at best, get Carlos sent back to
Venezuela, and at worst, killed, but either way he was no longer going to be
stalking Sam's client, sending her dead doves.
"You
want to tell me why you were upset?" Fi asks.
"Trying
to pass off baking soda as cocaine is stressful."
"Really,
Michael? Stressful?"
"It
was."
"Uh
huh." He always finds it vaguely disturbing when she responds to him the
way his mom does. He just lets it lie, not saying anything, but he knows what
she's expecting him to say next. She's got her 'cut the bullshit' look on her
face, and at this point he can argue with her about being overprotective, or he
can argue about lying, but either way, there's a fight coming up.
"You're
pregnant."
"I
had noticed that. The weeks of vomiting tipped me off." She's still giving
him the keep talking look.
"Since
Nate died, you in danger drives me crazy. You and our baby in danger makes it
worse."
"You
thought that was danger?" She can't believe he'd be worried about a job
that easy. And he honestly feels a little stupid for it, now that the danger is
passed.
"No.
I didn't think it was danger. But my
brain doesn't appear to be giving the orders about what constitutes danger
right now."
She
smiles at him, which he wasn't expecting at all. "That's sweet."
"Really?"
"You
concerned about us, yeah? As long as you can keep it under control and don't do
anything stupid, it'll stay sweet. Get over-protective and try to keep me out
of it, and it won't be sweet, then it'll be annoying."
"So,
you're enjoying me sitting here, fearing for your life, and doing nothing about
it?"
"Yes."
She smiles brightly at him. "Remember back when you thought you might be
getting back into the CIA and I told you that if you had to survive based on
your understanding of relationships you'd be dead in ten seconds?"
"Sort
of."
"It
wasn't that I didn't want you working for the CIA, which I didn't, it was that
I wanted you to pick me over the CIA. Same thing here, I want you to be
concerned, but I want you to pick my happiness over your comfort."
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| This was just too cute not to post. |
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