I Used to Be a Spy

An Answer

Michael carried the glasses out to the small wooden table on the patio, quietly bringing the screen door to a close with his boot, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby inside. He handed a glass to Hughes and took a seat across from him, the two sipping iced tea while Charlie ran around in the yard.
Michael gingerly rubbed the area on his chest where the damage was nearly healed.
"Are you able to ride again, yet?" Hughes inquired.
Small talk, that was a good way to transition into his past...
"Not really, but the horses can sense that I'm healin'." Michael rested the glass on his thigh, watching the condensation seep into his jeans. "Sam is buying a horse from me and him and his wife already found a condo in town they love."
"They gonna keep the horse here?"
Michael moved the glass from his knee onto the table again and leaned forward in his chair. "Look, let's not do the small talk and get to the point. You have questions, I have answers, and the same is true for me."
Pleased with Michael's forwardness, Hughes sat up and set down his glass too. "Alright, you ask first."
"Whose the pretty brunette from the hospital?" Michael inquired, chuckling as his friend's face took on a shade of red. Michael had seen them sneak glances at each other as Hughes helped Michael back to his room that first day, enough to know there was a spark between them.
"Nevermind, I'll go first," Hughes huffed, shaking his head. "Who are you really, and how did you do all that?"
Michael grinned and looked Hughes straight in the eye. "My name is Michael Westen. I used to be a spy..."
                                   +++++

Hughes guffawed, caused from utter disbelief and the reality that what Michael was saying to him made sense. "A spy? Like in the movies?"
Michael lifted his hands, "Hey the movies and novels are based off of something..." He lowered his hands and folded them, clearly waiting for Hughes to ridicule him.
"Really Micheal, I'm not inclined to believe you... but the things you did, I can't help but be impressed," Hughes leaned forward then continued, "How did you do it? No bombs, no explosions, no heaps of lives lost."
"I try not to leave a huge wake." Nonchalantly, Michael added, "An explosion or two is common but this time it wasn't required."
Hughes shook his head. How had he not picked up on this before? "I knew I should be suspicious of you with your no guards, thing, but I never got any bad feelings from you."
Michael sighed, "I changed, for what I thought was for good."
A moment of silence flowed between them. Hughes glanced back from the rolling hills of wildflowers and grass, back to Michael. He was aware of the effect Ireland had on people. Sights that touch you to your very core, a reminder of your place in this world.
"Okay, Michael Westen. Where on the island are you from?" Hughes asked, curious of how deep his friend had been in.
"America."
A snort shooting from him, Hughes asked, "American? That's a good joke. Let me hear your accent."
"My name is Michael Westen, and I'm from Miami, Florida," Michael stated somberly.
"Ha! Whatever, that's the worst American accent I've heard. You're a native here," Hughes stated, "There's no way this," he gestured up and down at Michael, "is a lie. You're an Irish horse breeder through and through."
Michael appeared deflated, as if his pride had been skinned. Though maybe it had been, if what he was saying held merit. "It's not a lie, per say, It's who I am now," Michael stated firmly. "I was a well known spy... but that doesn't matter anymore."
"Alright, well I came here to convince you to become a private investigator," Hughes offered. "Whether I'm inclined to believe you or not, I recognize your skills."
Immediately, Michael shook his head. "I've already done more than I should have. I've jeopardized my perfect life here."
"No one will have to know your old identity. In all truth, no one here would probably believe you."
Michael looked at him with a skeptical frown.
"Just think about it, okay?" Hughes moved to stand. Hesitantly, he sat back down. "Since we're doing some truth telling here... I was married before. I lost her to Kavanaugh. This was a win for me, and I feel like the past has settled some. I really appreciate all of your help with this."
A compassionate look came on to Michael's face and lingered there as he softly said, "I'm sorry for your loss. It is a win, I'm sorry I ever insinuated that you were working with him..."
Hughes stood, feeling uncomfortable, not believing he had shared such intimate information with Michael, a person he realized he only knew on the surface.
"Why didn't you ever say something about her?" Michael implored.
Hughes shrugged, dragging his foot along the porch floorboards. "It never came up naturally. Plus, our friendship is-"
"Unique?" Michael interjected.
Hughes nodded and they both held an understanding grin. "Think about my offer Michael. You can do a lot more good, save a lot more Keenan's."
Hughes grasped Michael's shoulder firmly, then bounded down the steps toward his car.
As he opened the door and was ready to hop in he heard Michael call out, "I'm in."
Hughes gave Michael a thumbs up and closed his door quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

Later in that evening, Charlie played on the porch as Michael and Fi rocked in their chairs, Fi held Ciara in her arms and rested with her eyes closed.
Cautiously, Charlie stood and went to the baby and kissed her forehead, then went to Michael and peered at his chest.
Michael smiled at the boy's curiosity. "You wanna see the bandages?"
Charlie nodded and held his hands by his face, as if the wounds would jump out and get him. Michael gingerly lifted his shirt to reveal the bandages, something he did multiple times for his son.
"Daidi, are you a hero?"
Casually Michael shrugged, "I guess so, to some, yeah."
Charlie whispered triumphantly, "My daidi is a hero."
"Anyone can be a hero, Cathal," Michael replied.
In awe, Charlie asked, "How? I wanna be a hero like you."
Michael picked him up onto his lap, carefully, and answered, "Well you need to learn how to fight-"
"Michael," Fi reprimanded harshly.
Michael chuckled, "Okay, so fighting isn't lesson one, but self defense is important."
Fi nodded her head and closed her eyes.
He continued, "When you see someone in danger, you help them. Sometimes you have to think creatively."
"Is that why a spy does?"
"Exactly. Remind me to teach you how to punch tomorrow, okay?" Michael asked Charlie.
Fi glared at him but laughed when the young boy began cheering. 
+++++
Michael slipped into bed as quietly as possible, thankful he didn't bump into any furniture in the dark. Now that he had activated some of his skills from the past, he felt more nimble and aware, a heightened sense of everything, which came in handy to prevent waking an exhausted mother and newborn baby.
"Couldn't sleep?" Fiona mumbled, sleep heavy in her voice.
"I can't stop thinkin' about this offer from Hughes... is it truly the right decision for me?" Michael bit his lip, thankful she couldn't see his concerned expression in the dark.
"Honestly, Michael, you need to stop worrying so much. Trust your gut and stick with it." Her voice was confident.
"It's been wrong before, Fi. I can't mess this up," Michael fretted, hating how weak he sounded. Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned in and smelled her hair.
"You're not Michael Westen anymore, you know. You're Michael Rossiter. Father, husband and soon PI. Our life won't change at all."
Michael chuckled, "You know these things are a little more chaotic than that."
Fi scoffed, "We have a baby, trust me, nothing is more chaotic than a little human."
Both smiled, reflecting on the last couple of weeks of blissful chaos.
Michael rubbed his eyes, the sleep deprivation sinking into his bones. "You're right, Fi."
He held her close and let his mind drift from his anxious concerns.