A/N: Since I'm attempting to expand my writing horizons, this story will be in first person but the perspective will change from chapter to chapter (so far, it just switches between Fiona and Michael but I may add in other characters later). The perspective is called out at the beginning. Also, I tried to stay as true to character as I could given the varying circumstances I placed them in and the fact that Michael is under a cover at the beginning of the story. If you feel that I erred, please call me out on it in reviews. I'm always happy to take constructive feedback. My timeline is also a bit odd since I tried to fit this in with history as well as the Burn Notice timeline but it didn't work as well as I hoped (the Good Friday Agreement was in 1998, but Michael and Fiona probably would not have met until 1999 or so based on the fact that Sam's nine-year-old son introduced in Season 2 could have been Michael's). I went with history instead of Burn Notice where the timelines conflicted, so this starts a bit earlier than other stories about Ireland.

Chapter 1 (Fiona)

I didn't need Sean's whispered warning to know that the dark-haired man in the corner of the pub had been watching me for a couple weeks. In fact, I had spotted him twice before, always trying to remain discreet while he snuck surreptitious glances at me. I wasn't sure who he was—maybe British intelligence, maybe a filthy loyalist, or maybe just a man looking to get in my pants—but whatever his motives, his interest was concerning. Sean offered to take him out for me, to deal with him quietly. I knew what Sean's brand of dealing with people entailed, so I refused. The man might still have knowledge that could prove useful, and if he did not, I could take care of my own problems. I did not need my brothers swooping in to help me.

I carefully made my way to the back of the pub, weaving around the couples slowly moving around the dance floor. Seamus's contact was meeting me here, a man who knew the type of people who could get a lot of guns for a decent price. They had sent me along to make the first contact, for I had always been able to get the best price, especially from men. Of course, Sean and Seamus were both on the other side of the pub for backup. I had protested, pointing out that I was perfectly capable of taking care of things myself, but my brothers had always been overprotective, and the current night was no exception. And so I had resigned myself to my fate, promising them that if they ruined the deal for me, there would be hell to pay. At least they looked a bit frightened at that.

The song changed, and movement caught my eye. Someone was approaching me, but it was still far too early to be my contact. I looked closer, realizing as I did so that it was the man who had been following me, the one I had seen out of the corner of my eye all day. I studied him carefully as he approached, my hand moving to the small of my back where I kept my pistol. He was good-looking, I noticed almost immediately, with short, dark hair and eyes that seemed too blue to be natural. He was wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up, revealing muscular forearms. It was open at the top as well, revealing the smooth planes of his upper chest. "Can I have a dance?" he questioned when he was close enough to talk. It seemed pants it was then. I gave my typical response, a response that had sent many a would-be suitor running for the hills. My gun came out and pressed into his stomach before he had a chance to react. I had earned a reputation for one of the quickest draws in Ireland. The stranger glanced down at the gun before looking back at me with a smile. "I assume that means yes," he remarked with a huff of a laugh. I had to admit, the smile made him even more attractive, adding a glint to his blue eyes that had them sparkling even in the dim light of the pub. His reaction was also not at all what I was expecting; the man apparently had nerves of steel. Intrigued, I put the gun away.

"Ya've been watchin' me fer a long time," I remarked as he took my hand and led me onto the dance floor. His hands dwarfed mine, and as our fingers laced together, I felt something that I could not quite explain. "Are ya sure a dance is all ya're after?"

"TIs a start," he answered, a hint of a smile in his tone. He used the hand on my back to pull me closer as he began to move in time to the music. His warmth surrounded me, chasing away some of the chill of the early winter air.

"So what's yar name?"

"Michael McBride."

"Nice t'meet ya, Mr. McBride."

"The pleasure's all mine." His Irish lilt was different than many I had heard, more like that of those living to the south.

"Where are ya from, McBride?" I asked as he guided me smoothly across the floor.

"Kilkenny," he answered, confirming my suspicions.

"And what brings a nice lad from Kilkenny up t'Northern Ireland?"

"The same thing as everyone else—lookin' fer work."

"And have ya found it?"

"Not yet, but I haven't been here long." He smiled at me, and my heart beat a bit faster. Our movements had slowed slightly so that we were swaying more than dancing, and I had to remind myself that men were trouble, especially men with smiles like his. It was a man like him who had gotten me into trouble in the first place.

We danced for another hour or so before a glance at my watch told me that it was time to meet my contact, and I pulled back with more reluctance than I had expected. His expression turned puzzled. "I have t'go. I have a. . . meetin'," I explained.

"Tis an odd time fer a meetin'," he remarked, his eyes searching mine. I dropped my gaze to the floor, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. Though I searched my mind for a response to his admittedly reasonable suspicion, none was forthcoming. Instead, I pulled away, intending to go. Better he wonder about who I was and what I was doing than know the truth. However, his hand kept mine, stopping me from pulling away. "When yar meetin' ends, what d'ya say te another dance?" he questioned, eyes pleading. I stared at him a moment, mesmerized, finding myself unable to do anything except nod in acquiescence at his request. His smile widened. "Til later then," he said, dropping my hand. With that, he disappeared into the crowd, letting me go.

I glanced over to where I had seen my brothers earlier and saw they were deep in conversation with some of their old friends, laughing as they shared a pitcher. Part of me was grateful that they were likely too distracted to notice my extended time with the stranger, but another part of me was annoyed. They had insisted on joining me at the pub for backup, but it would be hard to do that when they were too busy drinking and laughing. Of course, it did not particularly matter. I could handle the deal myself; in fact, I could sometimes handle it better when contacts weren't expecting to be dismembered by my brothers at any moment. With that thought in mind, I made my way to the front of the pub, eyes searching the people surrounding me.

My contact was not hard to spot; he was the only person who was not drinking or dancing. He also looked like a hired gun with muscles that nearly bulged out of the leather jacket he was wearing and close-cropped hair that made his head look square. He had obviously spotted me as well, for he inclined a head toward the door. I stepped in that direction, meeting him just outside. "I thought I was meetin' wit' Declan," I said, crossing my arms in front of my body.

"Y'are," he grunted. "I'm jes' here t'make sure things go as planned."

"As long as tis no funny business, yar boss will be very happy."

"Indeed I will," a new voice remarked. I glanced to the side and saw a new man emerge from the shadows. He wore much nicer clothes than the other man, and his body looked less suited for fighting. I guessed this was Declan. "Ya know, when Seamus called with the deal, I thought twas too good t'be true. Here I am with some extra guns, and lo and behold, here Seamus is with a need fer 'em. And then he tells me he's sending his sister, the beautiful and infamous Fiona Glenanne, t'make the deal. Tis so perfect, I couldn't've arranged it better meself." As he spoke, Declan continued to move closer to me, and warning bells went off in my head. Something was wrong. He was not acting like a man about to make a business deal.

"Me brothers are right inside, Declan. One shout from me, and-"

"Yar brothers are too focused on the drinks I bought them'n the women I sent over t'come te yar rescue. Tis just ya an' me an'a couple o'my friends." The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and I searched my brain, trying to determine my next move. My hand slowly inched around my body, reaching for my gun, but a much larger hand grabbed my wrist before I could touch it. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my initial contact standing behind me, gripping my wrist so tightly I would have bruises in the morning. If I made it that long.

"What d'ya want, Declan?"

"Money. Only I was thinkin', if Seamus was willin' t'pay fer guns, how much more would he be willin' te pay for his only livin' sister?" Declan stepped even closer, reaching out a hand to run it through my hair. I attempted to swing my arm forward to hit him, but the behemoth behind me grabbed my second hand as well, pinning them both behind my back with some sort of rope. I had to settle for spitting at Declan instead, but I made it count, hitting him right between the eyes. He wiped the liquid away with a laugh. "I've heard ya was a feisty one. No matter. That jes' makes things more excitin'." From the corner of my eye, I saw a third figure step out of the shadows as well, this one as burly as the first, obviously a second muscle man. I glanced around, searching for a method of escape, but there was nothing. I was outnumbered and outgunned. With no other option, I opened my mouth to attract attention, but before I could, the second man clamped a large hand over my mouth. It smelled of sweat and dirt, and I nearly gagged but held it in. I began to struggle, throwing my head back in an attempt to stun my captor, but he ducked the blow. I kicked my legs out towards the second man, but though I made contact, he was unfazed. I may have been a good fighter, but size had its advantages, and each man was at least twice my size.

Before I could consider what to do next, I heard movement nearby. At first, I thought it was another of Declan's men, come to make sure I couldn't escape. Despite the circumstances, that thought made me smile slightly. It was nice to know that I had built up such a reputation that Declan thought he needed three armed men to kidnap me. I just hoped that it ended quickly. I had read the horror stories before, of women who were captured and gang-raped before being killed. I assumed such a fate awaited me, and it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

Interestingly, the newcomer did not approach me immediately; instead, he slunk back into the shadows cast by the walls of the pub, moving towards the first man. I wondered if he was going to help hold me down from behind as well. Before I could wonder long, however, I heard a thud and a grunt of pain, and the grip on my arm loosened. Turning, I saw that the newcomer was none other than McBride, the man with the captivating smile who had held me on the dance floor less than fifteen minutes before. He held a pistol in his hand, the butt of which he had used to club my captor in the head. Though the blow had momentarily stunned the large man, he had not fallen, and he stumbled a bit as he moved toward McBride. McBride ducked under the first blow, dropping the pistol and jamming his elbow back into the other man's neck before grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him. He propelled the man forward, slamming him into his partner in a move that sent them both stumbling into the wall of the pub. One crumpled, but the other turned, gun in the air. McBride grabbed the wrist of the hand with the gun, forcing it into the air before slamming it down across his leg. The man screamed in agony, and McBride used the opportunity to spin him around, sending his elbow into his face. I watched, fascinated, as the man also crumpled to the ground. I glanced at McBride briefly. Gone was the easy smile from earlier; instead, his mouth was set in a hard line, and his eyes had turned icy as he moved toward Declan. The older man reached behind him, presumably for a weapon, but McBride was quicker. He grabbed the man's thumb, twisting it into a thumb lock as raised Declan's arm above his head. "I never want t'see ya or any of yar men 'round here again. If I do, yar goin' t'come away wit' more'n jes' a broken thumb and a couple o'concussions. Understood?" Declan nodded quickly, and McBride released him. "Get out of my sight." Immediately, Declan turned and ran without once looking back. McBride turned to me.

"Y'okay?" he questioned. His voice had dropped its hardened edge and was instead laced with concern. The difference had me reeling for a moment, and I stared at him.

"Who are ya?" I questioned.

"Michael McBride," he answered, his words a bit guarded.

"Ye jes' brought down three armed men, Michael McBride. Tis not normal."

"Tis also not normal fer a young woman t'be meetin' three armed men by herself." My eyes dropped to the ground, unable to refute that statement. I had grown too reckless, something I was sure Pat would yell at me for later.

"I didn't expect there t'be three," I told him. "Twas jes' s'posed t'be a business deal."

"And what were ya buyin' at nearly midnight? Twas certainly not biscuits."

"It doesn't matter." I paused, the words at the tip of my tongue but hard to say. "Thank you," I finally told him. With that, I turned to re-enter the pub, but his voice stopped me.

"I was in the army," he remarked. I turned, confused at the new direction of the conversation. "Where I learned to fight. Twas in the army."

"Thought ya said ya were lookin' fer work."

"I am. I said I was in the army, not that I still am."

"Why not? Ya obviously have the skills fer it."

His eyes dropped, refusing to meet my gaze. "I saw a fellow soldier, a man I had served with gun down a woman an' two children jes' because she happened t'be mixed up with a man robbin' banks. She hadn't even had any part o'it, didn't know what he was doin' but they killed her anyway." He glanced back up, meeting my eyes. "S'pose that was the last straw fer me. I couldn't work for an organization like that, so I quit. Worked a few odd jobs before moving to Belfast since I heard that's where de work is."

I studied him for a moment. His story seemed sincere, even plausible. I had witnessed firsthand the atrocities which could be committed in the name of peacekeeping—and the effect they had on everyone else. In fact, his was a fairly typical story of a young man who goes to the army to help out with a greater cause only to realize that there is no greater cause truly worth helping except that of humanity, and the army is generally the least effective at helping humanity. However, something nagged at me, a small seed of doubt in the back of my mind. I pushed it to the side, however, knowing I owed him. He had definitely saved my life. Determined to repay him, I held out a hand. "Meetin's over. Can I have a dance?" He smiled as he placed his hand in mind, and we walked back into the pub, joining the other customers on the dance floor. Seamus and Sean were deep in conversation, and I noticed when I glanced over at them that they did not appear to have even missed me. At least their lack of interest would give me plenty more time with the elusive McBride.