A/N: Ok guys! I'm warning you now itself it's going to be a long saga! I am going to try and do the near impossible task of recreating Mike/Fi's history and my best to explain how they met and what it and for them in Ireland and Germany.

Warning: if you guys are going to get angry with me for not writing a good Mike. I'm telling you now I'm not writing a good Mike Westen because he is not Michael Westen! Following what he said to Fi in the episode 'Hot Spot' about how McBride was her kind of guy and they caused a lot of havoc in Ireland and he had a way with the gals. McBride in this fic is going to be mostly a soul-sketch of Fi…Still I hope you guys enjoy and please review good or bad! As Woody Allen said "If they aren't saying anything bad that means you aren't doing that good" So…=D after boring you with that Dr. Phil crap. Ok…here goes! Oh! Wait…by the way if you feel I've missed an important point do tell me because you know they keep referring to their history here and there and in itsy-bitsy amounts. So sometimes it's very easy to miss! Enjoy :D :) And please review :S :) :D :P

"Yeah."

"Listen! Big calamity has struck at HQ!"

"Um…What's new? That place should be re-christened as House of Horror…Sometimes I tell you I must have been drunk when I filled in that Application form!"

"Let's not cry over drunken choices! Listen I'm telling you the truth! I was hanging around the HQ-"

"Another trait I can't understand!"

"SHUT UP! SO…I was hanging around the HQ when I see our bosses huddled together over…get this!...the photocopy of our company files!"

"Our? You mean yours and mine? Don't they have the original? Hell! They compiled it!"

"Exactly! I pried a bit and found out they have the original to my files but yours are gone!"

"Gone? Mine? Where to? Who took it?"

"Ya…now we reach the killer bit…it seems that a guy walked in at about mid-day with some heavy duty credentials and threatened the bosses of something so much they just spat out our files. I'm guessing job or life…though looking at the way they are shaken up I think life…"

"With credentials! Nah! Job with pension minus honor discharges my bet!"

"Whatever! That's moot! What we do know is that your files are out to the world and the bosses would do a crap about it!"

"Well I don't blame them…after being a cubicle monkey for decades you don't expect anything but lethargy in the bones…But this guy….hmmm…sounds like a real charmer…

Let me guess- Goggles on with a hat so no video IQ?"

"Check!"

"Mittens on so no finger prints?"

"Check!"

"Name in a stupid alias?"

"Check!"

"And basically no one has seen the guy so he's a ghost!"

"Ah! There sis…lies the catch…plenty people have seen him but all in false alias and some or the other feature of this mystery man is always altered so no can agree on any fixed feature!"

"So basically the guy is a ghost?"

"Yup!"

"So…great!"

"What? That's it?"

"Yeah…"

"Maybe you're not getting the urgency of the situation…let me elaborate…there is a guy out there….a really powerful guy with your file and we don't know what he's here for!"

"Look if he has my file that means he either wants to be my biographer or he wants to work with me…either way he'll have to meet me then we'll see…Anyway it's time he knew that what the files say about Fiona Glenanne is fictitious, if he needs to know me, he would have to really know me! And then Sean, the fun will start!"

Shutting the phone and slipping it into her pocket she whispered to no one in particular, "Oh! We'll have fun indeed!"

*(*)*

To be truthful, Fi was intrigued…this identity-less man had something about him… a sense of expertise and unique touch…almost a magnetic field of attractiveness around him. Fi laughed and shut the motel door behind her…

Fi walked down the alley she had left her car in. It was obscure in a sense but it had surprisingly good horsepower and Fi liked feeling she had a lot of power under her fingers, in cars and in men. Most of them didn't know how easily she could get what she wanted from them…it was just the matter of humoring their great egos and letting them achieve their silly ambitions.

Fi had been in the game long enough to trust her instincts and she kept feeling that uncanny feeling one gets when they are being followed and try as she may she couldn't get it to go away.

After you've spent a few years being hunted and hunting, you tend to value the sixth sense that is cultivated from years of being hardboiled and try as you may…eggs don't un-boil themselves.

So she walked normally down the road and turned to the side street, she walked a considerable distance before suddenly digging into her bag she removed a pair of sunglasses, then in the most unassuming way she wore them. After walking two steps she stopped again, tilting a little bit on her axis so she stood at a 45 degree angle. She grimaced removing her glasses and flipping around she lifted them into the air to look for any smudges. She then wiped it vigorously on her T-shirt and lifted it again to look for smudges. Staring at it with a little smile she wore them back on and walked till the end of the street before turning a corner rummaging in her bag all the while….she'd seen just what she had needed to see. A pair of feet.

Michael stood at the corner of the street, staring at this little performance. His decision to follow this woman a little bit before approaching her to make sure about what to beware of was turning out to be a waste of time. From the talk on the street, she was pretty well known to be the little firecracker but from what he had seen of her she lived a very diffused life… she sat up holed in her motel room most of the morning and then suddenly around mid-day she left to go to the chemist and the hardware stores, her list of items had been just ordinary, glycerin, perfume, sanitary wipes and a pack of chewing gum from the chemist, and a pair of gloves, some plastic, brick-molding equipment and a pack of different sized duct-tape. Stuff that according to the shopkeeper every Tom, Dick and Harry bought…

She then had gone for lunch at a bistro on the highway 'Armadillos' and had an exceptional amount of coffee and a doughnut to boot, then over-tipping the waiter, she went back to the motel and was holed up there until now when suddenly at 3:30 siesta time she decided it was time to haul ass…Frankly he was bored, he was expecting a little more sizzle to her life because according to her Interpol and company files she was a brain-frizzler…one of those renegade types, she lived by her own rules but people apparently took her shit 'cos they got results….How was still a mystery to him….

He had practically given up and after hanging around a little while longer just for the heck of it and then followed her slowly strolling his way down the alley….God! He so needed a cup-of-Joe right now…

When you're a spy, it's easy to think of people as incapable or incompetent. This is one of the many reasons that spies…end up dead.

He turned the alley and found it to be a small rabbit-path of an alley. There was hardly any space for 2 humans to stand side by side let alone her Fiat…this didn't feel right to him; right in the middle of the road was a mobile phone lying on a handkerchief. Walking up to it warily he picked the phone up, then picking the handkerchief up he noticed a small 'fg' sewed on the side. Flipping the phone around, he slipped it into his pocket then he noticed her bag lying a few feet away….this was odd behavior; why would an apparently sane woman leave her phone and her bag in the middle of the road? Walking up to the bag he put his down to pick it up but before he could touch the bag…his pocket vibrated in a jaunty tune. Pausing half-way he dug into his pocket and got the phone out.

"A message?" he said raising his eyebrows. Shrugging he accepted it….just 1 word, 3 letters but it chilled his blood…it was a simple verb, a command 'RUN!'

Looking into the bag again he saw a block of C-4 with a detonating cap on it with its red blinking light. He was on a clock…racing to get as far away as possible before the red light stopped blinking and he'd be blown away to Stone Age….turning the corner in the nick of time, there was a blaze of light after which he heard the most ear deafening blast…covering from the force of the blast, he tilted his head to see a Fiat slow down in front of him…the window rolled down to show a smug Fiona looking at him...She didn't live a diffused life; she diffused lives! Hell! She was truly brain-frizzling.

The phone buzzed again….gritting his teeth for another 'surprise' he flipped it open.

"That my dear friend, is to remind you that I know everything…Get the balls man! Stop stalking, Meet! Don't make me feel sorry I didn't blow you up! And get outta there! The cops probably know my MO…Anyway good to see a guy with some skill…it took me a long time to spot you…this is your contact to me and oh! I almost forgot…since you're so hot on getting to know me then at 10:30 PM sharp at The Mean Fiddler pub. Don't be late…"

And she flirts with me after having almost vaporized me. Mike! My friend this is gonna be one dangerous chick!