Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Burn Notice. No profit, save for emotional catharsis, is gained from this story.
"Michael, you can't keep running to Vaughn for your answers….everytime you do, you're running farther away from me!"
Fiona Glenanne, former IRA "specialist" and current part-time gun-runner, finally had had enough of her on/again - off/again boyfriend/fiancé/partner's seeming desire to never let go of what had become an ever-widening struggle to regain his former status as a professional spy – a position she felt was destroying Michael in the first place. Their latest foray with Jesse and Sam had reignited the argument in Michael's mother's dining room.
"Fi, I can't just let these people destroy innocent lives to widen their pocketbooks!", Michael replied, "Vaughn may be a snake, but we're both after the same thing."
"Every time you say that, Michael, I'm not sure you're the same man I …you know that he's a murdering psychopath – and coming from me, that's saying something." countered Fiona.
Michael looked at her as though he was frustrated with the entire world that she couldn't understand his position – she in turn looked at him with sadness for his blindness to what was right in front of him. The two left the room simultaneously, unable to stand the tension between them. Unbeknownst to either of them, someone had been listening in the kitchen.
"Michael…I thought I had raised you better than that…", softly whispered Madeline Westen. She lit up another cigarette and turned to the kitchen window, bracing herself on the counter below.
'I never thought that you would grow up to be….in that business', she silently pondered. She knew she had hidden things from him, had played the fool more than once…but she had grown softer as she grew older, and she hadn't had to try too hard to 'play' soft for a long time. Her joints reminded her everytime she moved, that she wasn't as able as she used to be.
"To Hell with that!", she exhaled furiously, "I may not be in the best condition, but I've still got the Will of Fire in me!". Maybe one day, she'd tell her son what she was before she had met Frank – before she had been cashiered out of her only home. In retrospect, it was only natural she had attached herself to a – she had to admit it to herself, if no-one else – scumbag like Frank; she had spent years with abusive, manipulative personalities all around her – one more was just like a reminder of home.
Well, this is the first chapter of my first fanfic! I hope it's pleasant, at the very least. Reviews are very welcome, and I appreciate any feedback I get. I don't promise to use every idea I hear, but I'll be sure to give them great attention and full credit if I do.