Burn Notice: It's not mine, I just like to play with it.

Just a little something that came to me after discussing the whereabouts of the Charger after S6. Thanks to AnneGlenne74 for giving me the title of this piece.

M.I.A. at MIA

By WritePassion

When you're on the run, you have to leave everything you love behind and hope that when the heat is off and you can return home, your possessions will still be waiting for you. Sometimes, as you flee, you need to destroy the things you love or figure out a way to cover your tracks. It's not pleasant or easy, but when it comes down to survival, any smart operative will do whatever it takes.

Sam pulled up to the wooden gate and snatched the paper ticket that the machine spit out at him. He glanced at the woman beside him and wondered if this was such a good idea. They'd been to the loft and seen what was left of it, which didn't put Fiona in a very good mood. Her car was in the cop impound lot and they retrieved it the day before, and now it sat in Maddie's driveway. It was time to pick up Mike's Charger, but considering how upset she was with Michael right now, maybe letting Fi drive it to Maddie's wouldn't be such a smart thing.

"Fi, you can drive the Caddy. I'll take Mike's car..."

"No. I'll drive it," Fiona exclaimed, her eyes staring straight ahead at the gate that rose after Sam withdrew the ticket. "Now, will you move? That infernal buzzing is going to drive me crazy."

"You got it, sister." Sam put on the gas and drove the Cadillac to the middle row of the satellite lot. Before they left for Panama, Michael parked it out here, in the midst of all the other cars, to keep it hidden from the Feds. Just in case, he said. None of them had a clue how Panama would turn out, but Michael's instincts were good. For awhile they lost everything, and no doubt the classic Charger would have been taken as well. God only knows if it would have been seen again if they didn't try to hide it in plain sight.

Sam remembered, sort of, where it was parked. The first aisle he drove slow as he approached the middle, but he didn't see it. In the next row, he repeated the process.

"Okay, where is it," Fiona asked. "It should be here. I remember, it was near that pole!" She pointed to the one with a sign on it. "Section F. I remember that!"

"Was it right underneath it," Sam asked. "I seem to remember that."

"Yes. But I don't see it." She shook her head, frustration rising. "Check the next aisle over."

"I distinctly remember Mike parking away from the afternoon sun," Sam said as he turned down the next aisle. "He turned left into the spot, so that means it should have been down the last aisle."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was this aisle, and he turned to the right to park," Fiona countered. "Right there, I see it!"

Sam accelerated but slowed again when he saw the back end of an older car that wasn't the Charger. "That's a Chevy, Fi. It's not even close to Mike's car."

"Well then backup. Maybe you went by too fast. Or we'll try going down the aisles again."

"Maybe it was in section E, not F," Sam suggested.

This went on for almost an hour, and after combing every aisle, the Charger could not be found. The Cadillac idled in the last lane and Sam slammed a fist onto the steering wheel while Fiona let out a deep breath and massaged her forehead.

"Where could it be, Sam? We left it at this airport lot! I'm sure of it!"

"We're in the right lot, I know we are," Sam agreed. "Fi, I think we've got to face the facts. Someone stole it. It's been here how many months now? Either the cops confiscated it because it was here too long, or the Feds found it and took it." He bit his bottom lip as he pondered the idea. "But no, that can't be. Mike said the car would be here."

"Maybe not even Mr. CIA Super Spy knows that the people he works for took his car," Fiona spat, sitting in the passenger seat with her arms crossed and pressed tight against her.

"I'll find out." Sam jumped as someone honked their horn behind him. Looking into the rear view mirror, he grumbled, "Oh keep your pants on, Mr. Fancy Pants BMW! I'm moving!" He parked in an empty space and let the car run while he dialed a number on his phone and waited. "Yes, I'd like to speak to Michael Westen, please. This is Sam Axe."

Fiona huffed and rolled her eyes. Michael was probably already out somewhere remote doing the bidding of his country. Never mind that he broke a promise to her that he would get out and try to live a normal life with her. She wasn't stupid and could see through his lame excuse about trying to keep everyone out of jail. She didn't believe it for one second, and a part of her hated herself for continuing to love him. She should have gone away and started a new life for herself. If she'd been smart, she would have and then she wouldn't be sitting in Sam's air-conditioned car searching in vain for the Charger.

Sam closed the connection and sighed, dropping his phone into the console. "Mike is out of the country and we can't reach him until further notice."

"I could have told you that," Fiona snapped. "After everything that happened, he couldn't wait to get back to his old job and leave us behind. Just like his car. He probably had someone take it away and send it to the scrap heap or something." That though hurt, but Fiona couldn't say why. As her eyes filled up with tears, she shouted, "I bet they'll tell Michael about our wild goose chase and he'll laugh himself silly." She made Sam jump in his seat when she shrieked, "Michael, how could you do this to us?"

Sam had never seen her like this before, and watching her crumble into tears twice in a matter of a couple weeks was as likely as the Mona Lisa frowning. Sam put the car in park, removed his seat belt, and leaned toward Fiona. As he put an arm around her shoulders she shrugged it off, but he tried again while unbuckling her seat belt. She fell into him and hung on like a drowning woman. To see her armor crack was unnerving. Sam kept his breath as even as possible, because someone in the car needed to stay calm.

When Fi composed herself, she swiped at the tears and turned away in her anger and embarrassment, pulling on the seat belt to bring it down and across her body, but it wouldn't budge. She growled, pulled, and almost put a fist through the window in frustration.

"Hey, Fi, it's okay," Sam whispered as he reached across with slow, careful movements. His fingers clasped the seat belt catch and pulled it across and locked it in place. He gave her one last squeeze around the shoulders and belted himself in before pulling out of the spot without another word. He drove to the exit and paid for the hour and a half they were in the lot.

"Hey dude, what were doing over there?" The attendant looked down at Sam with suspicion.

"We were looking for our friend's car. It's an old black Charger," Sam replied. "It was here for awhile."

"Oh yeah, yeah, I remember that ride. Real sweet one, too," the young man replied with an envious smile.

Sam sat up a little straighter in his seat. "You remember it? Do you recall where it was parked?"

"You were in the right place, Section F, almost right under the sign. But it's been gone for about a month now."

"Who came and got it," Sam asked, trying to curb his anxiety.

"Someone with a tow truck," the man answered. "It was, let me think, I'm trying to remember the name of the company. Oh yeah, it was Brett's Towing. They have these lime green trucks, dude. It's hard to forget 'em."

"Did someone at the airport commission them to pick it up?"

By now, Fiona had dried her tears and was leaning toward the open window, listening to the interrogation.

"I don't know, Mister. I just know Brett's came and took it away."

Sam turned away for a moment, his anger building. "Does the company that runs this lot make it a practice of stealing customers' cars, hauling them off to God knows where?"

The young man stared at Sam and held up a hand. "Hey, woah, man, nobody steals cars here. If you look at your ticket, it says that any car that is stored and not moved for more than three months can be taken away and considered abandoned."

"Oh great," Sam muttered and rested his head against the seat back. "Okay, so where do these so-called abandoned cars go?"

The man shrugged. "Here, I can give you the number for the home office. I'm sure they can tell you." He dug around and came up with a small card. "Here's their number."

"Thank you," Sam breathed.

"Good luck, dude. I'd hate to hear that car got trashed or something. It was a beauty." He smiled in sympathy. "I always liked coming out here and seeing it parked there, sparkling in the sun. It was a thing of beauty."

"Yeah, it was. Thanks a lot." Sam waited for the guy to raise the gate and he took off. On the road, he handed the card to Fiona. "Can you call them, Fi? I'm going to drive to Brett's and see if anyone there can tell us anything."

"Sure." She dialed the number on the card and waited. And waited. Finally, as Sam pulled into a service station where a couple tow trucks sat parked off to the side, she hung up. "Nobody is answering. I wound up in the phone menu from hell and there's no one at the end."

"Don't worry, Fi. If these guys can't help us, we'll try again."

The guys on duty in the office had no clue where the Charger had been taken, and they wouldn't look at their records without a court order. Sam was glad that Fiona decided to wait in the car. She might have punched their lights out and gotten into trouble. As it was, he found it hard to control himself when up against so much resistance. With a heavy sigh he exited the building and walked back to the Cadillac. Fiona had started it up and sat with the AC blasting.

"Well?"

"Nothing. We're gonna have to try that parking lot vendor again. Here, let me have that card."

Fiona gave it to him, folded herself up again in arms and legs and watched Sam dial the number. For her benefit, Sam put the phone on speaker. "Thank you for calling Stratton Parking. For English, please press 1. Por Espan..." Sam smirked and hit the zero.

"Now see, Fi, this is how you do it. When they offer you a menu, hit the zero. It fools the system into thinking you have a rotary dial phone and it'll send you right to..."

"Thank you for calling Stratton Parking. This is Cheryl, how may I help you," a friendly female voice on the other side said.

With a self-satisfied smile, Sam said, "Hi Cheryl, my name is Sam."

"Hi Sam, what are you calling in regards to today?"

"We're looking for my friend's car. He parked it in your satellite lot at MIA, and well, now it appears that it's M.I.A. at MIA. The lot attendant says it was towed awhile back."

"What sort of vehicle was it, Sam?"

They heard her tapping on keys. "It was a 1973 Dodge Charger, black. License plate Sierra seven Echo two zero seven, registered in Florida."

"Yes, I see in our records that the car was kept at the long term satellite lot for several months until recently," Cheryl answered. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you who retrieved it."

"We know Brett's Towing came and got it, but we want to know why and who ordered it be hauled away? Was it Stratton Parking?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I can't give you that kind of information."

Sam sighed and fought the urge to throw his phone out the window. "Okay, fine. What do I need to get that information?"

"A court order. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Don't worry. We'll get the info, one way or another. Thank you for your time, Cheryl." Sam cut off the connection.

"Great. We're no closer to finding Michael's car. What do we do?"

Sam put his phone away and shifted the car into drive. "I have a buddy who can maybe help us with this. Just relax, Fi. We will have Mike's car in our possession before too long. I just know it."