Disclaimer: Burn Notice and its characters are the intellectual property of others.

The Everlasting Present

Chapter One

"Why can't I go?" A mixed look of petulance and defiance clearly visible as these words were uttered, a slight whine in his voice.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear the first five times you asked that exact same question. The reasons haven't changed." The woman tried to keep her temper from flaring, wanting this conversation to be over. She continued wiping the countertops, the intensity of her actions increasing, along with her blood pressure.

"All the lads are going. It's all planned out." His proposition was not spontaneous, great care had gone into its organization. He hoped presenting a methodical plan would reap a greater chance of success, demonstrate his growing maturity.

"Apparently, not 'all' as you'll still be here." She noticed how much he had grown recently. He was able to look her in the eyes now, their heights matching. His hair was longer than she'd like, often covering his face. She resisted the impulse to brush it out his eyes as she had done so often when he was a wee boy.

"But it's the biggest match of the year!" He looked at her imploringly, trying a new approach.

"That's grand then, it will be on the telly. Problem solved." She feigned a smile, clearly wanting to put this argument behind them.

"Ugh!" He was completely frustrated, unable to continue with this pointless conversation. He turned away, storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

She stood by the window and watched him walk down the lane, her heart heavy, missing the days when he accepted her words with impunity. She stepped away once he slipped out of sight, and put the kettle on to boil, hoping tea might provide a bit of comfort.

How had time slipped away so quickly? She sometimes longed for the days when the mere utterance of her name provoked fear; when her reputation preceded her, and others bent to her will before she could do them any harm. Those days were in the past, that name no longer had an owner.

They had built a new life for themselves out of the ashes of the old. A life so vastly different that the one lived before, it was difficult to believe that former life truly existed. They referred to events as if on a historical timeline. There was B.C., Before Charlie, and A.D., After Death. Originally the terms were used primarily tongue-in-cheek, but as the years passed, the distinction took on meaning, defining the radical change that one day in Miami had wrought on all their lives. He had chosen her, fully, without reservation. A bullet on a rooftop, a mother's sacrifice, a dead man's switch, an explosion moving like a freight train, the feel of his hand, the safety of the water: these are the recurring memories of that fateful day. Then, there was Charlie. Jesse gently placed him in her arms sealing her future, their future.

Two people so confident in their professional lives had to learn how to have a personal one. Their relationship had often been tumultuous. Their agendas colliding, putting them at odds. "Death" had changed that. A life was forged together with common purpose, with gratitude for a second chance, with love.

Something they thought they never wanted had been their salvation. They mastered parenthood as they had done with every other skill in their arsenal, with motivation, practice, attention to detail, and most importantly, with teamwork. Their love for one another was already boundless but they found they had ample room in their hearts for one more. They vowed to give Charlie a life quite different from their own and up to this point they had succeeded.

A decade had passed. Charlie was no longer a little boy. The insularity of the life they had built for themselves began to gnaw at Charlie. It seemed as if each day a boundary was tested. This daily struggle was wearing and she felt the strain dearly. She sipped her tea, enjoying the warmth, hoping it would keep the chill of fear at bay.

They had found happiness. They had a nearly idyllic existence. Charlie was almost grown. Why did she have this sense of dread? Then she recalled Michael's warning from long ago, B.C, "The most dangerous time in an operation is when everything is coming together. You never know if you are about to get a pat on the back or a bullet to the back of the head." She pulled her jumper more snugly around her, the coldness settling around her heart.

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He trudged down the hill, anger coursing through his body. He wasn't a child anymore. He and his mates had methodically planned the outing. The match between Kerry and Dublin was to be held in Croke Park two weekends hence. If one of the parents was willing and able to drive them to Killarney, they could catch the 8 am train, arriving in Dublin before midday. They could easily catch the bus from there, making it with time to spare for the 14:00 start time. Liam's aunt and uncle already invited the group to spend the night at their place and they could head back the following day. Why did she have to be so bloody set against this?

His fury had dissipated slightly by the time he reached Liam's, the others already gathered there.

"Any luck?" One of them called out upon seeing his arrival.

"She won't budge." His annoyance was clearly visible to all.

"Pish!" The disappointment was evident among the group.

"Ask your da. He'll understand. He may even want to join us!" A chorus of laughter followed the comment.

"My da? You're having me on. He doesn't follow football. Not really. He pretends but I can tell he's not that interested. He knows just enough to follow the craic at the pub." He shoulders slumped a bit in defeat. "Besides, he'll back my ma to the end. Always takes her side."

Charlie sat down on the bench, reflecting on his family. It wasn't that he didn't love his ma and da, he did with all his heart, but he often felt that they were the most boring people in the universe. They lived in one of the least populated places in Ireland, if not the world, rarely travelling outside the county. Everyone went to Dublin for one thing or another, family gatherings, concerts, sporting matches, but not them. Relatives made the trek out to see them but they never reciprocated the visit. Even with all the space around him, he felt constricted. He was nearly fifteen and was ready to spread his wings a bit, expand his real life experiences. Why couldn't they understand?

It's not that his parents lacked a spirit of adventure either. They hardly lived a sedentary life. As far back as Charlie could remember, they were always on the go. They belonged to the archery club in Killarney, made regular visits to the shooting range in Tralee, spent hours hiking and climbing around the local mountains. A few years back they took up fishing in the local loughs, his mother was resistant at first claiming she didn't have the patience for it. She changed her mind after his father caught the biggest trout of the season, determined that she would snag one larger. That's just how they were, a bit competitive with one another, never with anyone else. Charlie was their only child and he was included on every outing, taught every skill they knew, and was given encouragement to practice and succeed in whatever interested him. Maybe that was the reason he was so taken aback by their refusal to even consider his request. They spent a lifetime urging him to pursue his dreams and now that he had one, they squelched it without debate.

Charlie watched his three friends, his shoulders slumped, an air of resignation about him. They had become inseparable since they met as Junior Infants soon after his family had settled here. Liam, Gerry, and Donal were trying to contain their excitement about their upcoming adventure for his sake. He knew they wanted to continue to make plans, talk about the upcoming match, which players would lead the charge, which would falter. His presence was stifling their conversation. He stood up, "I'm off." His words trailing behind him as he headed back to the road. The others looked at one another, watching him leave, unsure on what to say to console him.

He wandered about not intentionally moving in any specific direction. Yet he found himself in front of the shop, O'Sullivan's Auto Repair. O'Sullivan had been in his grave over three years, but his father kept the name. He spotted his da, head lowered into the bowels of an old clunker. He moved closer. His da noticed his approach, summoning him even nearer, putting him to use. Specific tools were requested, Charlie handed them over. He often helped in the shop enjoying the time alone with his father, gleaning some of the mechanical expertise his father possessed. They worked this way in silence for some time like surgeons attending a patient. Finally, the task was completed. His father stood up reaching for a towel to clean his hands. "Thanks," Michael noticed the expression on Charlie's face. "Something on your mind?"

Charlie's eyes were downcast, not knowing where to start. "This about Dublin?" His father's words prompted him to look up. "Because I think Fi made it clear last night how she felt about the idea."

Charlie became animated, "Ma won't listen to reason! Give her the beans, Da!"

"Give her the beans? You mean, put my foot down? With Fi?" Michael had a look of confusion on his face. "Have you actually met her?" Smiling at the thought of trying that approach with Fi.

Words exploded from the boy. He hurriedly blathered on about the issue, this thoughts spilling forth, afraid if he hesitated he would never be able to fully convey his feelings. When he chatted away like this, he reminded Michael so much of Nate. Nate was always a talker! Michael listened carefully, making no response. More that the actual words, Michael heard the unspoken plea. Charlie desperately needed to begin making a few decisions of his own, his quest for independence validated by those he trusted most. The opinions of his parents mattered deeply to him. He had to know that they thought he was capable, that they trusted his judgment, that they had prepared him well for the future. Michael understood that there was more at stake than simply a football match.

As Charlie prattled on, Michael realized that a conversation with Fi would need to follow this one, a discussion he would rather not have but appeared unavoidable. They had resolved long ago to make decisions like these in a unified manner, hammering out their differences privately, presenting their ruling together. Charlie finally stopped, either out of breath, or out of things to say, Michael wasn't totally sure which.

Michael reached out, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, and looking him straight in the eye and stated, "I'll see what I can do." It wasn't exactly the answer Charlie wanted but it was a start.