CHAPTER FIVE

Michael felt good. The morning felt peaceful and effortless. It felt comfortable sitting at the kitchen table with Ellie. She had made French toast with butter and cinnamon and served it with clotted cream, something that looked and tasted to Michael like a cross between buttermilk and sour cream but that somehow complemented the toast perfectly. The short robe she wore hugged her curves in all the right ways, and she blushed as she caught his gaze. The sun streamed in from the window, casting a warm light across her face, and he smiled, remembering the night before.

"Have I ever told you you look absolutely stunning?" he said.

She laughed lightly. "Didn't you get enough this morning already?"

"I always have room for a second helping," he said.

"Well, we're already having breakfast at eleven o'clock because of all the helpings you've already had this morning." He loved how she blushed slightly as she said the words. He loved all of the back and forth, the innocent but not so innocent teasing that people in new relationships enjoyed. In a way, their relationship was new.

He looked down at the ring, and his smile broadened. Her blush deepened, and she lifted her hand and turned it over. "Oh, this old thing? Why, it's nothing. Just a trinket from some detective who's hopelessly in love with me."

"Hopelessly," he said, grinning.

She giggled and held the ring up to the light, beaming. After a moment, though, her smile faded.

Michael's smile followed suit. No doubt, she was remembering the first man who had given her a ring. He pushed his plate away and asked, "How are you doing?"

She smiled brightly and rolled her eyes. "The same as when you asked me an hour ago and when we first woke up. By the way, asking that in the middle of afterglow was kind of strange."

"Come on, be serious," he pressed.

She smiled a little more sedately now and stood. "I am being serious," she said as she laid a hand on his and kissed his cheek. "Now how about that second helping?"

"I don't want to hide from the subject," he said.

"I'm not hiding from it," she said. He couldn't hear irritation in her voice, but a lot of the flirtatiousness was gone. "I don't want to dwell on it, though. I mean, what more can we do? I gave the agents everything I could remember, and then they asked me questions over and over, and I remembered more. There's nothing more I can do."

"I'm not talking about what you can do," he said.

"I know," she said and put a hand on his shoulder, using it as leverage to slide into his lap. She cupped his cheek and kissed him. "And I'm fine. I really am, baby. I left him a long time ago, long before I understood what he was. I don't think about him anymore. I mean, I hope they catch him, and I hope he goes to prison, but I don't think of myself as associated with him."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I want my life to stop revolving around him," she said sharply. He lowered his eyes, and she sighed and said, "Look, I appreciate it. I'm glad you're concerned for me. It means a lot, but the best thing we can both do right now is move on. There are over sixty people looking for him between the Bureau and the Marshals, and that's not including all of the local authorities that are looking for him between here and Ontario."

The most recent sighting of West had been in Niagara Falls when Faith had gone once more on her own to capture him. On her own because Michael hadn't answered his phone when she called. He hadn't answered his phone because he was fed up with her and wanted to go a day where…

Where his life could stop revolving around her.

He and Faith had been romantically involved for barely a year, but he had loved her in some form for all ten of the years he'd known her. Most of that time, his love was no more than the brotherly love that all long-term partners in law enforcement held for each other, but lately, his love felt more like the love he felt for his father during his last, cancer-ridden months of life: a combination of achingly wistful memories of when things were good sprinkled among the endless oppressive reality of the grief that loomed over every passing moment until the disease finally freed them both.

"I know what you mean," he said.

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Ellie broke the silence, reaching for Michael's hand and squeezing it. "Hey," she said, "Look at me."

He lifted his eyes, and the strength and love in hers was a beam of light in the darkness of his mind.

"I'm wearing your ring," she said. "I'm here with you. And you're here with me. Not with… anyone else."

He smiled and squeezed her hand back. "Yes, I am," he said, "and there's no place I'd rather be."

His phone rang then, because of course it did. Ellie's smile faded softly, and when Michael reluctantly looked at the number, he wasn't at all surprised to find that the caller was Faith because of course it was.

He considered just letting the call go to voicemail, but considering what happened the last time he did, he didn't think that would be a good idea.

"Go ahead," Ellie said, "It's okay."

She smiled, and in her smile, he could see clearly how not okay it was, but he didn't have a choice. He was trapped. Until the cancer in Faith's mind finally killed her, Michael was a slave as surely as he had been when his father took ill nine years ago.

He managed a smile of his own, then stood and walked outside.

He answered, and the first thing he heard was Turk's enthusiastic bark. A wave of relief washed over him. She was just calling so she and Turk could say hi. She wasn't going to ask him for anything.

"Hey, Michael!" she said after a moment. "Turk just wanted to say hi."

He was so relieved that he actually smiled. "Hi, Turk. How's your neurotic basket-case of a mother doing?"

Faith laughed. Then she shattered Michael's hope. "Actually, not so good."

His smile vanished. He managed by some miracle to keep his tone lighthearted when he said, "What is it? What do you need?"

"I need a partner," she said.

The corners of his lips turned down. "A partner for what?"

"A case."

His lips stretched into a complete frown. "The Boss reversed your suspension?"

"Conditionally on your agreeing to work with me, yes," she said.

Her voice was tense, and Michael wondered if the Boss had told her what he had said the last time they talked about Faith.

"What are your thoughts on Bold, Prince? Is she salvageable?"

Michae's heart broke, but he had to say it. "Honestly, sir… no. I don't think so. She left too much of herself in that barn where Trammell hurt her. She held on as long as she could. I think if West hadn't come into the picture, she would have been all right, but—" he lifted his hands and let them drop into his lap.

The Boss nodded and sat down. He scratched his chin and stared pensively over Michael's shoulder. After a moment, he said, "What if we give her the case?"

Michael blinked in surprise. "Sir?"

"The West case. What if we give it to her."

Michael stared in shock. "Sir, you can't be serious. He nearly killed her twice!"

"Yes, but she was acting on her own then. If she were on the case, that would mean you were on the case. That would mean she wouldn't go after her on her own and not even just the two of you and her K9. You'd have the National Guard surrounding him if you needed to."

"Sir, this is…" Michael didn't finish the sentence. He was fairly sure that the Boss would take the words insane, stupid, foolhardy and irresponsible poorly, and Michael couldn't come up with any other words at the moment.

"The thing is, she's right," the Boss added.

"Right? For God's—" Michael took a breath and said, "Look, I love Faith more than anyone, but are you serious, sir? Everything she's done related to that case has been bass-ackwards."

"But she's right," he insisted. "At the very least, she's not wrong. She was the one to determine that West was the killer."

"Yeah, after spilling state secrets to him for nine months."

"Still, it was her deduction that led to the Copycat Killer's identification. If nothing else, the fact that she's forced him into hiding has likely saved lives. And on that note, she has also found him twice."

"And then nearly gotten herself murdered."

"A problem we won't have with you reining her in."

"Boss…" Michael paused. He had nearly said what he was about to say dozens of times over the past year or so, but each time he had stopped himself.

This time, he didn't.

"Boss… I think it would be best if you assigned me a different partner."

The Boss's eyes widened. He sat up straight and regarded Michael gravely. "It's gotten that bad between you two, huh?"

Michael sighed. "It's… Like I said, sir. I think she's broken. I don't think there's enough of the Faith Bold we once knew left to save. I would like to say I could rein her in, but the truth is, I could rein in the Faith I used to work with. This other Faith… I don't think there's any reining her in, sir. I think we bench her before she commits any more flagrant fouls."

The Boss didn't answer right away. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "You're right. Of course you are. I just…" he chuckled. "Well, I like her. She reminds me a lot of me. I'm not saying she's right to go off the reservation like walking through a revolving door, but I can't help but admire her spunk. And no one can deny she's probably the greatest detective the Bureau has seen since Ness. No offense to you or anyone else here, me included."

"None taken," Michael said and meant it. Faith was modest about her accomplishments, but it wouldn't be incorrect to say that Michael was little more than an assistant on most of their cases. She was the one who did all of the thinking.

Which was part of why it frustrated him so much that her thinking was consumed by West lately.

"Boss, I wish I was wrong," he said, "but I really don't think I am."

"No, you're not wrong," the Boss said. "I already admitted that. I'll work on a transfer for her. I'm thinking a training position at Quantico. Somewhere there are a lot of eyes on her. Something she can do that keeps her active but doesn't give her a chance to do anything stupid again. In the meantime, you take some time off. You deserve a few weeks with your new wife without worrying about Bold."

Michael felt a pang at that. He hadn't told Faith that he and Ellie had married. Ellie had made it clear she wasn't invited, of course, but it was Michael's decision to not even tell her. He wasn't sure how Faith would react, and he didn't want to deal with it at the moment.

And now, he didn't have to. For a little while, at least. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. I'll look into a partner for you in the meantime. Maybe the Rosa kid. We can put the two of you on some financial crime crap while his ears dry. He's a hero-worshipper, and you're a lovable old grump, so I feel like you two will get along just fine."

"Thank you," Michael said drily.

"No," the Boss said, standing and taking his hand. "Thank you. I've allowed my affection for Bold to affect my judgment. I'm glad I had you here to set me straight."

Michael managed a smile, even as his stomach churned with guilt.

"Michael?"

Michael blinked. "Sorry, Faith. I'm on vacation with Ellie. I can't help you right now."

"Michael, please!" Faith begged. "I need this! I can't be cooped up anymore!"

"You're a big girl, Faith," Michael said, a touch of acid in his tone. "You'll be fine for a few more weeks. Your rib still needs to heal, anyway."

"It's not West," she says. "The Boss told me that he doesn't want me going after him, and I agreed."

"You agreed the last dozen times too," Michael pointed out. "That didn't stop you."

"I know," she said, "but this is different. I… I don't want what happened with Trammell to happen again. I'll stay away this time. I've learned my lesson."

"That's good," he said, "and I wish you well, Faith. I really do, but—"

"Michael, please. If you ever loved me—"

"How dare you!" he shouted suddenly, so loudly that he turned back toward the garage door, hoping Ellie didn't hear. He lowered his tone and hissed. "How dare you? If I ever loved you? Faith, you lying, manipulative little…"

He stopped and tried to calm himself. The best he could manage was silence.

"I know," she said softly. "I know. And I'm so sorry. But please. Please help me. Please give me a chance to prove I won't betray you again."

He was silent for a long moment. Finally, Faith tried a tentative, "Michael?"

"Fuck you," he said viciously. "You…" He shook his head. "Fine. I'll be at the field office in an hour."

"Oh, thank you," she said, nearly sobbing with relief. "Thank you so—"

He hung up and threw his cell phone across the room. The case was one of those military cases designed to withstand artillery shrapnel, so it was unharmed when he picked it up.

He almost wished it had just crumbled to dust in his hands.