Disclaimer: I do not own Burn Notice

a/n: This is an extremely short thing but it sorta randomly came to me so…HA.

Your past is all you are. As much as you try to disown it, it's who you are. Simple as that.

Spies live off their past. It's how they lie, how they learn, how they gain trust from those who shouldn't trust them to begin with.

Michael sat in the corner, alone as usual, of the pool. Closing his eyes he easily blocked out the blaring outdated music. Madeline's attempt to make their family look like the Cleavers' was their reason of why they should take to this godforsaken resort.

Nate mingled throughout the rest of the teens; Michael just sat next to the plastic dolphin trash can to satisfy his mother. He went a good two days without wearing a shirt before he had to cover the bruises again.

Michael tensed out of instinct as something shuffled beside him. Opening his eyes hard he spoke to the person next to him.

"You know I never liked clowns." He sighed crossing his arms, raising an annoyed eyebrow. The clown bent down frowning a sad face to the teen. With a roll of his eyes Michael balled his fist.

The movement was quick.

Pulling his sunglasses on Michael walked away from the double over clown who was gasping for air.

In the present you are vulnerable. That's just being human. You can find easy ways to mask that, but it usually ends up being a painful experience the whole way through. The irony of it all is annoying.

Michael kept a passive face-his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses-as he walked through the Miami wind, a small boy to young to understand in his arms, big blonde head against the burned spy's shoulder, long skinny limbs hanging lazily, big dark eyes dazed and tired.

Fiona held an uncommon rare concerned glance on her beautiful features as Michael walked by her and later Sam towards the car.

It's the future that a spy doesn't bother to worry about. As long as you're alive, you have a job, and your position isn't compromised you never have to worry about the future until it is your present then past.

Michael drove his car-shades covering the thoughts of his eyes from the rest of the world- into the dark back of the truck hopefully getting closer to who burned him and ultimately closer to getting back to the life he was good at.

a/n: see I warned you extremely short. But very random burst.