Disclaimer: Burn Notice and all of its characters belong to Matt Nix and the USA Network.

Da da DAAAAH! Here it is! The prologue to my multichapter, which I happened to have a dream about, which gave me the idea. This one won't be very long, but it's just supposed to be an introduction and to get a feel for what you guys think of the idea...

DKougar, in response to your "Hero of War" review: No...I don't read about that subject a lot. It's more..."you write what you know"...so...yeah.

20 July, 2013

"Where is she?!" I snarled, the gun extended in front of me was quivering as anger surged through my body. The man in front of me was the picture a tranquility. He even had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

"Mister Westen, I think that we need to calm down here." He muttered, wagging his finger at me like he had some God-given right to tell me what to do. I took a stop closer and placed the gun against his forehead.

"I don't think you're in much of a position to be negotiating here."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong. I'm always in a position to negotiate. That's what's so wonderful about being me. Now, Miss Glenanne is currently still safe, but we need to have a discussion about what I need you to do for me." He stood from the large, over stuffed chair and moved around the desk to stand in front of the large picture window.

He crossed his hands behind his back and hesitated half a second before turning to face me. I leveled a hard glare at him as Sam's voice crackled to life in my comm in my ear.

"Mikey, we've got units mobile, we need to wrap this up and get out like ten minutes ago." I lifted my hand to my ear.

"Yeah, I hear you, but he's not talking. I have to find out where he's hiding her."

"You're not going to figure that out, Mister Westen. This isn't going to do you a damned bit of good." The man standing in front of me growled, the first break in his serene facade.

"WHERE IS FIONA?!" I snapped, surging forward and wrapping my hand in the lapel of his suit jacket before throwing him against the extensive book case. I slammed his head back against the wooden shelves until a trickle of blood trailed down his neck.

"You think that, after all this time, after coordinating that burn notice on you, I would give up that easily?" The man said with a sadistic chuckle. I gaped at him for a moment, at a loss for words.

"But...but I thought..."

"You thought what? That you'd found the man that issued your burn notice? You did. But, the thing is, things are not always as simple as they seem. You, of all poeple, should know that." He chuckled, reaching up and patting my face softly.

The sound of glass breaking away had my attention turning to where Sam had cut a hole in the glass of the window behind the large desk.

"We need to GO!" He barked, waving his hand. I hesitated half a second before growling my frustration and following Sam out the window. We sprinted to the street, blending in with the crowd in the middle of rush hour, and climbed into the car we had waiting. I tore away from the curb and sped towards the safe house.

We were halfway down the street before I glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the White House disappearing into the skyline. Sam finally broke the silence with a scoff.

"Can you believe I voted for that guy?" I was silent, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "We'll get her back, Mike, I promise." I couldn't help the curl of fear in my stomach, but I knew that I would do everything in my power to get her back.

2 Days Earlier...

"Fi, I couldn't find that wine that you wanted, but I found this one, I think we should try it." I called, stepping into the loft and reading the label on the wine bottle in my hand. Fiona and I had been planning this "date night" for weeks since she'd gotten out of prison. Nate's death and the friction with my mother had effectively put that off, but tonight I intended on showing her how much she meant to me.

Had I been looking where I was going, I may have noticed the fact that the door had been forced open. I looked up, glancing around the loft when she didn't respond, but found it completely empty.

"Fiona?" I questioned, jogging up the stairs and looking at the desk at the scattered photographs, but there was something else...a note.

I lifted it and scanned over the print briefly, my heart jumping into my throat and my fists clenching. I pulled my phone out and hit the #2 speed dial.

"Mikey, this better be good, I've got a cocktail waitress that's about to offer to show me how she shakes a mean martini if you catch my drift." Sam answered, his voice hushed.

"Sam, they've got her."

"What? Who has who, now?"

"Someone took Fiona."