Disclaimer: I own neither "Burn Notice" nor "Torchwood" … unfortunately.

AN: This story takes place sometime in season 4 for "Burn Notice" and sometime in season 2 for "Torchwood," although there are some references to knowledge we gain in "Children of Earth."

Weevils in Miami

A Late-Night Call

"I'm fine, Fi!"

Madeleine jolted awake. Nothing woke a mother up like hearing her son yell out when he was clearly in pain. Glancing at her alarm clock, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Why did Michael and his friends always have to come by her house in the middle of the night? Padding into the living room, she was greeted with a rather unpleasant sight.

Michael was sitting on her couch, shirtless and bleeding, while Fiona did her best to patch up the resisting patient.

"What the hell happened?" asked a peeved Madeleine, already lighting a cigarette.

Michael, Sam, and Fiona all turned around, both surprised to see Madeleine standing there and guilty at being caught holing up in her house … again.

"It's nothing, Madeleine," lied Fiona with a placating expression on her face.

"Nothing? Then why are you bandaging up my son?" asked a distressed Madeleine, allowing her voice to get louder and louder. "I think I have proven that I can be trusted. Now tell me what is going on."

"Alright, Maddie, calm down," soothed Sam. "You see, we were trying to help this guy. He got conned out of a lot of money—money he needs for his sick wife. So, we decided to con the guy who conned him and get him his money back."

"So, how did Michael get hurt?" asked Madeleine.

"I'm getting to that," said Sam. "Well, the guy's security guards are brutes."

"Yeah," said Michael, finally jumping into the conversation.

He continued, "He had two teams of security guards. The first team was fairly easy to take out, but the second team … well … they were a bit harder."

"Harder, how?" asked Madeleine, getting into the stride of an interrogator.

"We shot them and they didn't go down," said Michael, truthfully. "I guess they were wearing some kind of Kevlar that we couldn't see."

"And their faces were really weird," continued Fiona. "Like, maybe they were burned by acid or something. They had no hair."

"The hair is what you're focusing on?" asked Sam disbelievingly. "What about their teeth?"

"What do you mean?" asked Fiona.

"Did you see those things?" continued Sam. "They were huge … and sharp. They bit Mikey."

"No," said Michael forcefully. "It just seemed like they bit me. Teeth couldn't do this kind of damage—not unless they were some kind of animals. They had to have had weapons hidden that we couldn't see."

"Well, let's see that picture," demanded Sam.

"What picture?" asked Michael and Fiona at the same time, Mike questioningly and Fiona feigning innocence.

"Come off it, sister," said Sam. "I saw you snap that picture on your phone as we were leaving."

Fiona reluctantly pulled out her phone, as if she were regretting having ever taken the picture—evidence of the unusual can have that effect on people. She believed that some things were best forgotten or rationalized. And clearly from his explanations, Michael agreed.

Looking at Fiona's picture, Sam exclaimed, "Look at those teeth!"

"Hand it over," said Madeleine, holding out her hand and wearing a no-nonsense expression on her face.

Fiona reluctantly handed it over, positive that Madeleine would go ballistic seeing the unreal creature that her son had grappled with. Instead though, Madeleine simply looked thoughtful as she gazed at the picture. Finally, after nearly 30 seconds of awkward silence as Madeleine studied the picture and the others studied her to see her reaction, Madeleine nodded once and handed the phone back to Fiona.

"I need to make a phone call," announce Madeleine unexpectedly.

"Who are you going to call?" asked Sam, incredulously. "Not some tabloid, right Maddie?"

"No," she replied curtly. "I'm going to call someone who knows how to deal with these kinds of things."

"Who would that be exactly?" asked Michael.

"Captain Jack Harkness," replied Madeleine, before leaving the room in search of a phone.

The remaining three looked at each other confusedly, before getting up in complete unison to follow Madeleine to the other room.

"Hello," said Madeleine into the phone, "I need to speak with Captain Jack Harkness … Tell him it's Madeleine Weston on the phone. No, wait; tell him Madeleine Taylor, my maiden name … Hello, Jack? … It's Maddie, I have a problem … No, Michael's fine. Well, if you call just being attacked by a weevil fine … No, I told you, he's alright. He was bitten but it's already stopped bleeding … I need you to come to Miami and deal with this … Well, I don't care how busy you are; you owe me … If you won't do it for me, do it for Michael … I know what I said … Will you come or not? … Fine, thank you, bye." With that, Madeleine hung up the phone and turned to look at her perplexed son and his perplexed friends.

Sighing, she lit herself another cigarette and sat down to tell Michael a very long and complicated story.

"Jack," called Ianto, clear across the Hub.

"Yeah," the captain called back, worried that Ianto was about to yell at him for being behind in his paperwork … again.

"There is a woman on the phone for you—a Madeleine Taylor."

Shocked, Jack called back, "I'll take it in my office."

"Very well, sir."

Nervously, Jack picked up the receiver and his breath hitched when he said "hello."

"Hello, Jack?" asked a voice he hadn't heard in years.

"Yeah," he answered, in little more than a whisper. Just hearing her voice, though much huskier than it used to be, probably due to smoking he thought wryly, brought back memories. He could remember sitting in the Hub with her, years ago, before he had been in charge, teaching her how to blow smoke rings and getting yelled at by their boss. He could remember going blue in the face trying to get information out of stubborn people and, just when he had given up, Madeleine would waltz over and within five minutes have everything he had wanted and more. He could also remember some not-so-appropriate activities that had been done in the privacy of the archives with a lot less clothing than was standard in the Hub.

"It's Maddie," she replied, as if he didn't already know. "I have a problem."

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately concerned. "Is it Michael? Is he alright?"

"No, Michael's fine. Well, if you call just being attacked by a weevil fine."

"I thought you said he was fine?" he asked panicking. "Weevils are incredibly dangerous, as I'm sure you remember. Is he badly hurt?"

"No, I told you, he's alright. He was bitten but it's already stopped bleeding."

"If Michael's alright, then why are you calling me?" he asked, reigning in his terror.

"I need you to come to Miami and deal with this."

As much as he loved his Madeleine, and would always love her, Jack was suddenly terrified by the idea of seeing her. It had been so many years. Of course there had been the good times, but there had also been the bad times and those had stung him deeply. Looking for an excuse, any excuse, he blurted out, "I can't come. I'm busy—rift stuff."

"Well, I don't care how busy you are; you owe me."

"I owe you?" he asked, going from scared to angry in one second flat. "I owe you?" he scoffed. "I seem to remember you being the one who left. You were the one who broke my heart, not the other way around. I don't owe you anything, Maddie."

"If you won't do it for me, do it for Michael."

That just wasn't fair. "I thought you said you didn't want me in our son's life."

"I know what I said."

Before she could say any more, Jack continued, "You took him away, Maddie—to America. You never let me see him. And before you say it, I know, I was married and Alice was a baby. But you knew that when we started dating. I wanted to be there for you, Maddie. Why wouldn't you let me be there for you?"

There was a long pause and then Madeleine said, "Will you come or not?"

Sighing heavily, Jack replied, "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Fine, thank you, bye," said Madeleine curtly.

By the time Jack said "goodbye," Madeleine had already hung up.


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