A/N: So this is a short-ish fic I just sat down and wrote after watching the season finale. I absolutely loved it! If you feel the need to talk about it with someone, feel free to PM me and we can compare thoughts. lol Anyway, this is just how I imagined the aftermath would be, but I'm super excited to see what Matt Nix & Co have come up with for Season 4. =]
Spoilers: For "Devil You Know" of course since this is a tag to that. Even if you don't mind spoilers, I still don't recommend reading this until you've seen the episode because it doesn't make sense without it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They are the brilliant design of Matt Nix and the Burn Notice team. I just borrow them on occasion to have a little fun and hopefully return them with no extra explosions to deal with.
She knew what he meant in the way he looked at her. Thinking of those words he'd said to her such a short time before on the phone. He couldn't lose her again and she knew it would tear him apart if he did. Although he wouldn't put it that way aloud, they both knew it. And for that reason alone, she put up no further fight when Michael got into that truck and took off after Simon.
Fiona knew he was gone even before they'd told Madeline. She'd known even before Sam's FBI contacts had come through and told them Michael had been removed from their custody. It had taken a mere hour for that feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach to tell her what had happened. Thinking back on it, she realized that she knew it was happening before it had truly happened, but that wasn't really a surprise. Management was predictable and she and Michael were more in tune with each other than they had been in years.
Nevertheless, Fi could feel the dull stab of his absence in her heart like she felt the humid air numbly rushing in and out of her chest, like she felt the warm Miami sunshine beating down on her shoulders, like she felt the soft ocean breeze slapping against her face. It was sharp and painful and achingly familiar, so much so that it blended together in a rush of numb, tired emotions that C4 and a sniper rifle couldn't fix. And if she concentrated on each slap of the breeze against her skin, the salty tang of the ocean air felt a little cooler and she could almost taste the Irish whiskey. Then she felt the old days slip to the back of her mind again as the warmth of the sun brought back the good times in Miami and the little things she wished she had taken more time to appreciate. They were so real and so painfully out of reach it made her heart hurt just that much more.
As Michael and Sam knew, Fiona was not a woman given to over-emotional outbursts often. The occasional zealous bits of anger on behalf of a victim and her frequent irritation at where romance ranked on Michael's list of priorities were by no means uncommon. But Fiona Glenanne had never really been a woman prone to fits of crying or hysterical sobs. When Michael's absence had been confirmed, though, she understood why people did that because she felt the helplessness now, too.
There was a relatively subdued (at least in comparison to the rest of the day) ringing from behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Sam pulling his phone from his pocket. He was sitting sideways in the passenger seat of the car so his feet were on the pavement and his elbows were resting on his knees. Fi, on the other hand, was sitting on the little wall at the edge of the sidewalk where the beach began and was staring out at the darkening sea and sky as the waves crashed against the shoreline. Each rumble of a wave, and every other sound for that matter, felt muted and sluggish to her ears as she sat perched on the terminating column of the wall, her feet dangling over the edge, as tired and helpless as she was.
"That was Maddy," Sam said from behind her, his tone flat and exhausted. "The FBI is releasing her and I'm going to go pick her up. You want to come with me to her place and try to explain all this?" If it had been any other time he would have been requesting or demanding Fiona's assistance in that particular endeavor, but he knew that it was not the time to push her into something. If she needed a night to collect herself or go to the shooting range or blow something up or whatever she did in situations like this, he knew he had to give that to her. They were friends. By weird circumstances, yes, but friends above all of that.
"No," Fi said simply, shaking her head slightly. "Can you drop me off at the loft instead? We can pick up Madeline first." Then she slid off the wall and dropped, barefoot, into the still warm sand. Hooking the straps of her shoes in her fingers, Fiona slid into the passenger seat as Sam jogged around to the driver's side.
The ride to the FBI field office was uneventful and silent. When they saw Madeline leaning up against the building next to the ashtray smoking a cigarette, they pulled over and Fi climbed into the backseat to make a better space for Michael's mother. She quietly thanked them for picking her up and asked what the next step was. Understandably, she wanted her son back as much as they did and Sam and Fiona were the best people to ask in her book.
"We can't do anything more tonight Maddy. It'd be best to get some rest and start figuring this out in the morning," Sam replied. "We'll find him and he'll be back here in no time." Fiona just nodded her agreement. She was too spent to put forth the effort and either way she did agree with everything except the 'no time'.
After that, none of them spoke until Sam pulled up at the loft. Michael's personal government surveillance detail had been removed, but the windows were still blown in, not that it really bothered Fi all that much. Sam got out and yanked his seat forward so she could get out and he set a large, warm hand on her bare shoulder out of comfort. It was unspoken, but she knew what he wanted to say. They were still in this together, no matter what. Michael was counting on them.
Then Fiona stepped quickly around the car and toward the stairs until she heard Madeline calling her from the open passenger window, at which point she stepped back toward the car. "Honey, he loves you and I know you love him. I have faith that we can find him, so don't you go giving that up," Madeline said. Fi nodded and leaned in toward her open arms. They hugged through the window and the older woman laid a motherly kiss on the temple of her son's sometimes girlfriend, telling her to sleep as well as she could under the circumstances.
As Fi trudged up the stairs, watching the car pull away, she thought of all the work there was to be done. Not only did they have to find Michael, which was enough of a task for anyone, but she also had to clean up the glass in the loft before she slept and eventually they would have to replace the windows so it would be livable again. Once inside, she grabbed the broom and dustpan and started getting rid of the shards of glass covering much of the floor. Each sweep of the broom and each hunched use of the dust pan was tiring and menial and exactly what she needed. It was past midnight by the time the glass was cleared, and Fiona was beyond exhaustion, which was probably for the best since she more than needed the sleep. While cleaning, she had noticed some C4 sitting on the workbench and had almost been tempted to use it, if only for the stress relief. What stopped her most was the fact that she knew it wasn't going to help Michael and that was priority number one.
With shaking fingers but steady preparedness, Fi duct-taped sheets to the blown in windows and then slid out of her shoes. On her way to the bathroom, she slid off her jeans and pulled the flowing blouse over her head, letting them both fall to a heap on the floor. It didn't matter anymore. She turned on the water as hot as it could go and stepped in, reveling in the rarity of scalding water in the loft. It was exactly what she needed. After stepping out and drying off, she walked to Michael's closet and pulled out a black t-shirt to sleep in. Then Fiona trudged back across the loft to the mattress and slipped in on her side of the bed.
She slid his pillow toward her and curled herself around it, nuzzling her nose into the pillowcase that smelled exactly of Michael. Of everything that had happened that day, she felt closer to him at that moment than she had since those perfect little smiles they'd shared that morning. Feeling as close to him as she could without him actually being present, Fiona fell into a fitful sleep and dreamt of everything that went right and everything that went wrong and salty ocean air and strong Irish whiskey and bright blue eyes and those last beautiful smiles. The rest would just have to wait until morning.
So that was it. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined. Let me know if you liked it or didn't like it and why would be really nice. This isn't my most thought out fic, but it would like a little love.
3 to all you readers, musicforlife101