A/N: This chapter takes place immediately after Michael's graduation from IET in Fort Benning four months after the last chapter and is part of a Christmas present (this installment is early obviously) for my writing partner, the amazing Purdy's Pal, who loves young Mikey stories and is always asking for more Much love all the #Burners out there and many thanks to everyone that takes the time to read and of course review.

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Fort Benning, Spring 1985

The newly minted private found himself once again in the middle seat of his great uncle's station wagon being driven through the rolling hills of Georgia, this time on the way from Fort Benning instead of on the way to the base, having returned just barely in time from his Christmas trip to Miami. They proceeded westward towards the town of Columbus, which existed primarily to service the military base that had been his home for the past four months. But the scenery was a green blur on either side of GA-520.

He was 11Bravo now, intent on joining the 75th Ranger Regiment as fast as he could.

He should be happy. Shane was busy regaling him with all the special vittles his grandmother would be preparing in celebration of their achievement and as far as he could tell, it all sounded great. Whatever it was, it had to be better than his mom's food.

He'd been ecstatic after the graduation ceremony had been completed. He'd gotten here and he'd gotten through it. The physical and mental grinding, while considerable and certainly difficult in its own right, had been a walk in the park compared to the last ten years of his life, the final four as a member of the Westen household in particular.

At least here when he screwed up, the punishments were in the form of extra push-ups or clean-up duties, not black eyes and broken bones. Sergeant Hartman had been a complete hard ass, but he had nothing his father when it came to handing out abuse.

Unfortunately, that joy had been short lived. It had lasted as long as it had taken him to travel from the ceremony grounds to the parking lot where the civilians had been allowed to leave their vehicles in anticipation of seeing their sons become soldiers.

It had all been going perfectly up until that point… Dammit… !

His upbringing had given him an advantage over most of the recruits in his unit, except the part where the Army expected him to rely on his teammates. Michael was extremely selective when it came to trusting people. He was good at reading them in terms of threat assessment, but not yet well versed in what to do with that talent other than use it to protect himself and eventually Shane as well. His youthful experience in team building had largely been limited to the enemy of my enemy is my friend… for now.

Michael had been shocked at first and then dismayed to learn he had a relative in the room at Basic when the DI had shouted his surname and they had both answered. He'd left South Florida because, among other reasons, he was done trying to keep his kin from suffering from their own folly and there was certainly plenty of trouble awaiting everyone assembled as they were molded into infantrymen and beyond.

Fortunately, his second cousin was nothing like his younger brother. Visually, he and Shane were clearly related in terms of hair coloring, skin tone and general features. However, while Michael hadn't been the biggest guy in their class, that honor had gone to the Westen currently riding shotgun. That said, he was the fastest and the sneakiest, something that had often attracted the ire of both his DI and the company sergeant.

The native Floridian realized a beat too late that he hadn't answered the younger man's question. He shrugged and said he had no real preferences about desserts other than not overly sweet, which had caused both Levi and his grandson to roar with laughter.

"I reckon ya'll be developing a sweet tooth or diabetes by the time she's done with ya."

Michael smiled and nodded, the thought of the pecan pie he'd had at the airport when he'd returned from Miami reminding him just how much sugar he could expect to encounter whilst in the company of the Georgia Westens…It could have been worse…

He had been particularly pleased as he'd lined up with his classmates to see his parents nowhere to be found. The teenager had celebrated his triumph on multiple fronts. He'd gotten through all those weeks of training AND kept his mom from finding out. He'd changed his contact information to Miz W's address as soon as he'd arrived on base and his 'I made it to Ft Benning' phone call had gone to Ms Watkins' house phone too.

As the frantic final notes of "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" gave way to the voice of Mr Lee Greenwood imploring the Good Lord to bless the country on the static filled radio, Michael wasn't really paying attention because all he could hear in his head was the memory of the vitriolic invectives that his dear ol' dad had been hurtling at his uncle.

The dark haired private sighed quietly. It had been going so well, he lamented again. He'd had to restrain himself from acknowledging Miz W during the speech. Her large fancy purple hat that she'd worn to many a Sunday service had made her easy to spot, even sitting in the middle of the crowd. Ricky had been at her side, standing on his tiptoes and waving wildly. That had made him grin. It really wasn't much of question why Andre probably wasn't with her, though there could have been other reasons.

Following the ceremony, he'd had an entirely too brief exchange with the man who had promised to oversee his career before Lt Novak was swept up in the crowd with other obligations. He'd wanted to ask about the new Ranger Indoctrination Program, but Ricky had been rushing over to see him, followed by his mother on her platform heels.

"Well, don't you look mighty fine… Army life do seem to suit you, sweet thing."

After a tight hugs, kisses on both cheeks and congratulations, she had confirmed that Andre was indeed in jail, as he was no longer a juvenile. A persistent tug on his sleeve had him kneeing down to the boy's eye level, who had been very excited to share with that they were on their way to see his favorite cousin in Atlanta, Lavanda Williams.

The recollection brought a slight upturn to his lips. The nineteen year old had been living with her aunt in Miami while studying pre-med at UM. Frequently Ricky's baby sitter while Miz W was working at the diner, there had been a rare weekend she'd had the house to herself after finals week. That same weekend, the fourteen year old had taken one of the most brutal beatings of his life. He'd thought his martial arts training would be suffice to allow him to at least evade the worst of his dad's drunken rage while running interference for his brother and his mother in that order. He had been very wrong.

Escaping to Miz W's house with a deep cut under his eye that needed some stitches, torn and bleeding knuckles and a finger that needed setting among his injuries, he'd been dismayed to find no one home except the medical student. However, her triage skills proved sufficient to the task and her beauty and willingness to soothe his hurts in other ways had been exactly what he had wanted and needed. She had been his first.

He wished Mrs. Watkins had warned him about his mother discovering the invitation, but in retrospect he realized she hadn't really had the chance. They'd been discussing her niece's impending graduation from medical school in record time when Shane and Wilson had joined the conversation. The former had invited him to the family dinner and the latter was interested in getting the party started at the nearest hotel with a bar.

"You go be with your friends, sugar. I have to get going if I'm gonna make Atlanta by supper time anyway. You doing good, baby, you keep right on doing good, ya hear?"

More hugs and promises to write soon done, he had watched until she was settled into her dark purple Cadillac Coup deVille with the black pearl overcoat, the same one he had helped Andre re-paint to cover up a crime. The private surreptitiously swiped at the moisture and swallowed against the lump in his throat. At least he'd gotten to spend some time with Marvella Watkins before his family had shown up to ruin his afternoon.

"Ya sure are powerful quiet back there," Levi observed as they approached the outskirts of Colombia and the highway that would take them north towards the man's farmhouse.

"Just thinking," Michael deflected.

"'bout Frank making a jackass outta his self again… or 'bout what your ma said…?"

The teenager stared at the back of the older man's head covered in a tattered ball cap from his beer league days after the war, refusing to meet the sharp eyes within the weathered face in the rear view mirror. He'd tried to stop thinking about them at all…

Once the elder Westen had joined the trio, they'd proceeded to the parking lot. Levi had then gone to retrieve the car while Gerry had continued to urge Michael to join him in his quest to celebrate by passing out drunk between some random woman's thighs.

"Sounds like a great way to get herpes or worse, boy. How come you're on your own, anyway? Where's your family, Wilson?" Shane had never been one to mince words.

"Mom couldn't afford that many plane tickets from California. Hell, I can't blame her. Can you fucking imagine trying to corral that many snot-nosed screaming kids on a jet?"

Michael didn't know a lot about Gerald Wilson's family per se. He'd been able to discern his father was career military and stationed somewhere overseas most of the time and his mother was Catholic and opposed to birth control according to her eldest son and at some point the family had gotten too large to move around regularly as they once had.

"What can I say, man? Six sisters and four brothers… Hell, I think the old lady got knocked up every time the old man came home on leave between duty stations."

The mere thought of that many siblings had made his blood run cold at the time his fellow recruit had shared that story one night in the chow hall. Gerald had included in his responsibilities, as oldest boy at home, petty larceny, shop lifting and grand theft auto.

"Hard to feed that many damn mouths on a non-comm's pay, you know? So I helped."

When his dad had returned from his last posting and discovered his boy's potential rap sheet had Gerry actually been caught by the authorities instead of his father, the man had beaten the hell out of him before informing his son he had a choice of being turned in for all the stolen property around the house or enlisting in the Army at Fort Benning.

While Private Westen saw some of himself in Private Wilson's story, overall the blonde reminded him more of Andre, whose criminal activities soon were more about benefiting himself than the family. Gerald had a couple of years on him, so he'd wondered what else had been omitted from the private's story, not that he was a saint by any means.

"Come on, you two can hang out at the old folks home any time. Shit, live a little, huh?"

Shane had shrugged. "If that there's yer idea of living, go for it, cowboy, count me out."

"Jesus, are all you Westens that lame? Come on, Miami, don't tell me you'd rather eat pie with granny than EAT PIE. Seriously, your balls gotta be blue by now, man."

"Ya watch your mouth, Wilson, or ya'll be eatin' a knuckle sandwich."

Generally speaking, the younger of the two second cousins was easy going and soft spoken. Gerald had originally come into Michael's world by way of his hanging around Shane, pegging the preacher's kid as a soft touch, someone to bum money from and wrangle extra servings off of at chow. He hadn't wanted another babysitting job. He'd left Miami to get away from being responsible from other people's bad choices.

He'd been happily surprised to learn that unlike Nate, Shane was capable of handling his own problems, having the size, muscle and common sense his brother lacked.

"Whoa, easy there, Banner, don't go all green on me. No insult intended to your saintly grandmother …. So, what are we doing here, Miami? You in or not…?"

Michael was weighing his options. Although it sounded tempting, it hadn't been that long and while Gerry might have been in the Army involuntarily, he wanted to be there and had a mission and a purpose. Private Wilson would probably not be as concerned as he was about any potential blowback of a lost weekend. He wanted to start training for RIP.

And at that moment he had spotted Lt Novak across the asphalt speaking with another graduate. He'd caught the man's eye and saluted; intent on now having that more extensive private conversation he had wanted earlier. "Hold up a minute, guys…"

But before he could do more than turn in the Ranger's direction, it all went to hell.

"Michael! Michael! Over here!"

His mother was walking quickly across the parking lot, waving at him with Nate in tow, who was flailing with both arms and bouncing up and down like a rubber ball on steroids. His father was scowling, glaring at the Army base as though it was a radioactive waste dump. A half smoked KOOL was dangling from the corner of his downturned mouth and his gait declared that he had already been drinking heavily.

The bottle blonde threw her arms around his neck in a strangling hug that he tried to fend off without being too obvious while his younger brother danced around him in a semi-circle, pulling on his pants legs trying to get his attention.

"Jesus, Maddie, let him breathe fer god's sakes."

She released her eldest son reluctantly and then she began to babble.

"Is it over? Did we miss the ceremony? We would have been here sooner but we didn't get the invitation until the last minute. The postman must have mis-delivered it to Mrs Watkins…" Her tone said she knew damned well how it had ended up at the other house but didn't dare say so in front of her husband. "And then of course your father had business he had to finish in Atlanta first…" She glared over her shoulder at Frank.

"We saw a tractor trailer wreck in Atlanta!" her youngest interjected. "The guy's leg was hanging out of the cab and the rest of him was on the hood! It was soooo rad—"

"That's enough, Nate. Are these your friends? Are you going to introduce us? What—"

Suddenly she paled and went silent, having spotted the man driving the car that was more bondo than metal in places getting out of said auto and walking towards them.

"Well, shit, would ya look at that." Frank Westen took the final drag from his cigarette and tossed the butt on the ground directly between his uncle's Sunday best shoes.

"Well, what do ya know, Hell has finally froze over," Levi responded, spitting on the butt.

That had been the most civil thing either of them said to each other for the next several minutes. Michael had stood there with his mother and brother slowly inching behind him all the while wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole… or his father, he wasn't picky at that point… Even Wilson had started backing away from the fracas.

He would be eternally grateful for the rest of his natural life to Shane, who had stepped to his grandfather's side and crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing.

"I reckon that would take a powerful amount bending fer that there to happen," he had interrupted Frank's tirade about where his uncle could put his head. "But I'd sure enough be happy to show ya how it's done if ya want to keep carrying on like that."

Michael had been convinced that his sire was calculating his odds of success and the likelihood of a two-on-one brawl without his usual baseball bat, brass knuckles or .357 to reinforce his position, as his gaze flicked between his son and Shane Westen.

Then the man at the center of the storm had stepped back, spitting on the ground too.

"Ya ain't worth muh trouble…" He had turned on his heel. "Let's go, Maddie."

"We're at the Days Inn in town," his mom had said. "Maybe you could come by and—"

"I said, let's go, woman!"

Now that at least half of Fort Benning including Lt Novak had seen his family in all its dysfunction glory, the teenager couldn't wait to get into the Impala and get the hell out of there, particularly since base security had finally starting heading in their direction.

Madeline's son had zero desire to see his family again… ever… but he couldn't stop the reflexive guilt she had managed to drill into his head. He should just check that that she wasn't in the hospital and his dad potentially in jail with Nate running wild far from home.

As if Levi had read his mind, the older man exited the highway and turned toward town.

"How 'bout we stop a spell and find a pay phone and ya can give Madeline a call. Then ya can decide if ya want to take a run at stopping by after ya scout the ground. Me and Shane can pick up a few things in town if ya decide ya want to pay your respects."

His words were ironic given how little respect Frank Westen had just shown his uncle, but Michael agreed it was a sound strategy, which he should have thought of himself.

Twenty minutes later, the teenager found himself in a phone booth on 13th Street outside an Eckerd Drugs with a pocket full of change in his uniform pants and the hope that someone hadn't ripped out the page with the phone number for the Days Inn on it.

Juggling the large tome in one hand and feeding nickels and dimes into the slot with the other, he was eventually connected to the front desk, who informed him there was nobody named Westen checked into the hotel and thanked him for calling.

"No, no, don't hang up on me… You hung up…ohhh…" Michael threw back his head in frustration, letting out a growl. "Dammit…" Sinking his teeth into his upper lip, he thought about the possibilities…Had they checked out already? Seemed unlikely… Besides, the clerk should have said as much. Then something his mom had said came back to him.

"And then of course your father had business he had to finish in Atlanta first…"

Business was the code phrase his wife used anytime Frank Westen was involved in illegal activities. NOW it made sense. She'd been able to twist her husband's arm into coming to a place he evidently despised because the ruse of a family road trip would be good insurance against the authorities taking too close a look at his showy vehicle or discovering whatever hot merchandise was hidden the trunk of the black muscle car.

His dad had also used him for cover on his criminal enterprises before. Making him fake a seizure at Mr Goodwrench so he could steal spark plugs for the Charger, taking him to his 'fishing spot' so his father could unload crates of Cuban cigars fresh from Havana for his low level wise guy friends while Michael fished next to the nearby bridges for snook.

He never used his real name on these so-called business trips… Michael remembered. He usually cycled through the names of the '72 Dolphins No-Name Defense, claiming they were good luck since he'd made so much money betting on them that year.

That meant a one in five shot of getting it right on the first go. Feeding coinage into the slot again, he hoped he wouldn't have to use them all before raising suspicions.

Two tries later, he was being connected to Dick Anderson's room.

"Hello… who's this?"

"Ma…? You okay?"

The relief that rushed through him upon hearing Madeline's voice was short lived.

"Michael, is that you? When are you coming over? I'm not sure how long we'll be here since that awful old man insulted your father. Maybe you can come with us to visit your Uncle Nathaniel in South Carolina. We might even go see your Aunt Jill as well."

Clearly he didn't know all that much about his family, but he knew that his mom had not seen her sister since before he was born because of something his dad had done.

"When do you have to be back on base? You should go with us. This might be the last time we get to take a vacation as a family. Do you remember how much fun we had when we went to Disney World for your brother's birthday? You should come with us, Michael. Family is what's most important and now you could be gone God knows where for God only knows how long. It's not like we'd ever find out since you've got your mail going to Mrs Watkins' house. I was very hurt by that, Michael. I can't believe you didn't want your family to share in such an important moment of your life. What were you—"

"I was thinking I wanted to prevent exactly what happened today!" he snapped back, finally getting a word in edgewise and feeling a massive headache building. "I don't need him getting arrested on base. He can do that on his own back in Miami."

"Mi-chael, how could you say such a thing? Levi was just antagonizing him and you know how sensitive your father is about his side of the family."

"No, actually I don't. I didn't even know he had a side of the family to be sensitive about. I only met Shane because we ended up in the same class together. Do you remember when I asked you about him when I was down there three months ago on Christmas break? You were making meatloaf that night and what did you say…?"

"Well, I was very busy getting dinner ready," Madeline huffed. "You know how your father is about dinner being late."

"Oh, I know…" Her son pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you know what else I know? You knew Dad had a problem with Levi, I could see it in your eyes when he got out of the car. You knew Dad was drunk. What did you think was going to happen?"

"Your brother's dying to talk to you. Nate… Nate, come here and talk to Michael."

He grimaced and rubbed his forehead as the sounds of shuffling around could be heard.

"Hey Mike, guess what? We're going to see Uncle Nathaniel!"

"Yeah, so I heard, kid. That's great."

"We have the best time at his house every time. Dad's always happy when we're there. Are you coming, too?" The hope in his younger sibling's voice caused another pang of guilt that Michael wanted no part of to pierce his heart.

"Probably not…" His fingers moved from the bridge of his nose to rub his forehead. "I have a schedule I have to keep. You know how Dad is about other people's deadlines."

"Yeah," Nate agreed quietly. "But it's going to be good now cuz when they were fighting in the car on the way over, I said we should go see Uncle Nathaniel instead of going home. Dad stopped yelling and everything right then, said it was my best idea ever."

"That's great, kid." Michael knew he should be asking how his kid brother was doing in school, how it was going at home, but he was suddenly too exhausted to care.

"Maddie, whud the hell you been doing?" A voice bellowed in the background. "Ah told you we were leaving and to get packed. Ah done told that jackass at the front desk Ah wasn't paying for babysitting suitcases for two damn hours. Move your ass already. Nate, who in the hell are you talking to? Gimme that, you little shit, go pack your stuff."

"No, it's just Mike. I was telling him—"

The sounds of scuffling told him the phone had changed hands. "Ah said git packed. Are ya deaf as well as dumb? Ya wanna be here if the cops show up?" There was a pause and then breathing as the receiver was brought close to someone's mouth.

"You still there…?"

For no good reason he could think of, Michael answered instead of hanging up, "Yeah."

"Well, Mike, looks like ya made it. Sure surprised the hell outta me. Don't know how ya kept from busting every one of those assholes upside the head, but I guess ya did."

"Yeah," he agreed weakly.

"And you tell Levi if I ever see that sonuvabitch again—"

"I'm sure he already knows."

"Right… uh, good job, boy. We gotta go now…. See ya around, Slick."

Michael put the hard green plastic handset back in its cradle. "Not if I can help it."

The teenager leaned back against the scratched plastic wall. He felt drained in a way that all the physical and mental rigors he had endured the last three months had not accomplished. Pushing upright on stiff legs, he walked back to where the station wagon was parked next the blue-canopied drug store, its occupants guzzling beverages.

"Ya alright there, Mike? Ya wanna a Dew?" Shane asked as he slid into the middle seat.

He shook his head and then looked up to find Levi staring at him, one arm through over the back seat, sympathy evident in his blue eyes.

"You'll feel better after ya git something in ya." The older man turned back around and started the motor. "Then after dinner maybe I kin elucidate what happened to Frank."

Maybe Levi was right, but he seriously doubted anyone could truly explain his dad.