A little Christmas Burn Notice story, in the style of It's A Wonderful life. Michael Westen sees what life would be like had he never been burned. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine!
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"Michael, you can't keep doing this! You have a family now!"
"And that's why I can't stop, Fi! You know that!"
Fiona looked away from him, her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding. How could they keep doing this? They couldn't. There had to be an end.
Michael sighed softly. "I need some air." He turned around and headed through the front door, with Fiona's voice ringing in his ears.
"Michael!"
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A half hour later, Michael found himself at a dark, smoky bar. Normally he didn't go to bars, unless he was with Sam or there was an operation going on, but today was an exception.
It was Christmas Eve, but there were quite a few people inside as Michael entered the bar. There wasn't a familiar face, and for that he was thankful. He ordered a drink, then found a quiet, dark corner to sit down and be alone.
As the hours passed, one drink turned into six or eight, and soon he couldn't form a coherent thought, which was exactly what he wanted. The bartender watched him with a worried eye.
"Maybe you've had enough, buddy."
Michael waved a hand and started to stand. But with the alcohol coursing through him, he lost his balance and fell, hitting his head on the way down.
A sharp pain shot through his skull, followed by darkness.
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When Michael opened his eyes, he expected to be hungover and as sick as a dog. To his surprise, there was no pain. His vision cleared, and he slowly took in his surroundings. He was lying on a beach, not at home or in the bar. There was warm sand underneath him, and the sun shined brightly on his skin.
"Hey, kid!"
Michael tensed, instinctively reaching for his gun as he looked toward the owner of the voice. Larry… What the hell was going on?
Larry shook his head as Michael searched for his gun. "Sorry, kid. Your guns are gone."
With a groan, Michael got to his feet. "What's going on?" he demanded, looking around at their surroundings. "Where am I?"
Larry just smiled. "You and I are going to take a little walk, kid."
Apprehensive, Michael shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Larry."
"Too bad. You don't have a choice." Larry snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were standing on the set of a movie. There were several trailers, and a man sitting in a chair held up a megaphone.
"Action!"
There was a mechanical whine, and Michael was surprised when Sam ran in front of the camera in some kind of space suit. His hair had been dyed and his face was clean shaven. Michael's eyes widened in surprise as Sam put his hands on his hips, puffed out his chest, and bellowed in a manner that commanded respect.
"We need to kill this thing now, or Earth is doomed!"
Larry let out a throaty chuckle.
Turning on Larry, Michael demanded, "What the hell is going on, Larry?"
"I'm showing you what life would be like, had you not gotten burned and dumped in Miami."
The younger man shook his head. "You're losing it, Larry." He jogged onto the set. "Sam!"
Sam didn't respond to his name, and Michael shouted again. "Sam!"
"He can't hear you, kid," Larry explained, appearing at Michael's side.
"What do you mean, he can't hear me?"
"Didn't you ever see that movie, It's A Wonderful Life? It's kind of like that, except I'm no angel." Larry laughed at his own cleverness.
Michael took a step back, shaking his head.
"Don't believe me? Say goodbye to Sam." Larry snapped his fingers, and they were in a casino, standing near a blackjack table.
Michael looked around. "Where the hell are we?"
"Las Vegas." Larry motioned ahead, and Michael followed his gaze.
At the blackjack table was Ruth, and in one of the seats was his little brother. He started to move, until he realized that no one could see him.
Nate suddenly slid off of the chair and moved quickly through the crowd.
"What are you doing, Nate?" Michael murmured.
"Because you never came back to Miami, Nate never even tried to get back on the straight and narrow. He never flirted with Ruth, they never got married, and they never had Charlie," Larry explained, crossing his arms over his chest as he checked out a passing hostess.
Michael ran his hand through his dark hair. "What happens to him?"
"Now you're getting it, kid!" Larry exclaimed. "Unfortunately, Nate gets in a bad way with some very bad people. Your mother never finds out the truth, but poor little brother winds up in a shallow grave somewhere in the desert outside of Vegas. The cops never find his body, and your mom spends the rest of her life wondering what happened to her baby boy."
A cold shudder went through Michael's body, and he closed his eyes. His little brother, dead. No…
His eyes shot open, and he found himself in a small apartment. He didn't recognize it, but he frowned when he saw the pictures on the walls and knickknacks on the shelves.
"Look familiar, kid? This is your mom's place."
"No, it's not. This isn't my mom's house."
"You're right. It's not her house. She lives in a retirement community now."
"What?"
Larry nodded. "You were never burned, so you didn't come back to Miami, and you didn't use your mom's house to stash your clients, make bombs, etcetera."
"But a retirement home? She loved that house!"
"She felt lonely and useless. Now she spends her days playing gin rummy and attending water aerobics classes."
The door opened, and Madeline walked inside wearing large sunglasses and a weary frown. It was as though the life had been sucked out of her, and Michael was deeply unsettled.
"Yeah, Mama Westen is pretty much all alone. Since you never came back, she never met Sam or Fiona."
Michael jerked his head toward Larry so fast, he almost gave himself whiplash. "What about Fiona? Where is she?"
Larry's smile faded, and Michael was shocked when the older man almost looked…sad. "You sure you're ready for this?" he asked quietly.
"Ready for what? Where is Fiona?" Michael demanded, and a knot of fear and uncertainty developed in his gut.
Larry lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, and in an instant they were standing on a grassy knoll.
Michael looked around, taking in their surroundings. "We're in Ireland…" His voice was weak. "But… Fiona came to New York before I was burned."
"Yes, she did, kid. But she never got the call from the maid at the hotel where you were dumped. Eventually, she went home to Ireland."
"People wanted her dead here." He felt the sense of unease grow tenfold at the look on Larry's face.
"Yes, they did." He motioned for Michael to follow him.
Michael hesitated, not certain he wanted to see what Larry was trying to show him. Finally he slowly followed after the older man.
Larry led Michael down a beaten path, and when he stopped, Michael felt tears sting his eyes.
They were standing in front of a cemetery.
Larry pointed to one headstone in particular, and Michael couldn't stop himself from kneeling down in front of it. There, etched in the stone, was Fiona's name, birth date, and the date of her death, followed by three simple words.
Forever Our Angel.
Larry stood behind Michael, a sad look on his face. "You would have been proud of her, kid. She died saving a little girl who would have suffered the same fate as Fiona's sister, Claire."
Reaching out with trembling fingers, Michael touched the cold marble. A shudder went through him, and hot tears began rolling down his cheeks. "What have I done?" he whispered.
"You got what you wanted, kid. You were never burned. But you lost the love of your life in the process." Larry shrugged. "Life's all about choices. Some are easy, and some are so hard that you spend your whole life trying to decide."
Michael looked up at his former mentor. "Fiona… was never a choice. I always loved her."
"Then there you go." Larry pulled Michael to his feet. "Just remember that, kid."
The warmth of the sun was suddenly replaced by a bone piercing cold, and Michael felt himself falling, falling into nothing.
"Fiona!"
His eyes shot open, and for a moment, he wasn't sure of where he was. Slowly he realized that he was in a bed, and as he looked around, he recognized the familiar walls of the loft. He sat up slowly, taking a deep breath.
"Michael…" A gentle hand settled on his forehead. "Thank God you're awake."
He turned his head and came face to face with the most welcome sight. Fiona. He dimly registered a terrible pain in his head, but he ignored it. Fiona was sitting beside him, alive and wearing a look of deep concern. With a soft groan, he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, hugging her tightly.
She was surprised, but she snuggled into him and wrapped her arms around him. "How do you feel?"
"What are you talking about, Fi?"
"You left last night and wound up at O'Malley's. The bartender called me and said that you'd had too much to drink before you fell down and hit your head." Her fingers grazed the bandage on his temple. "I called Sam and he helped me get you back here."
A dream… It had all been a dream. But he was still pretty shaken. Fiona was still alive because he'd been burned and dumped in Miami. He had her because his bosses had blacklisted him. For the first time, he actually felt a sense of gratitude for that.
Fiona was surprised when he kissed her, but she gladly welcomed it. She slipped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.
When they broke apart, Michael brushed Fiona's hair out of her face. "I was an idiot," he whispered, eliciting a small smile from her.
"Go on."
He chuckled softly. "Fiona, I'm a lucky man. Sometimes I just get so caught up in my own stuff… that I forget it." His hand drifted over her abdomen.
She leaned closer to him. The reason they had fought was because she told him that she was pregnant. It was a shock to both of them, to say the least. But she couldn't say that she was upset about it. She loved children, and while that child could one day be used as leverage against her parents, that didn't mean that she wasn't wanted.
"You are a lucky man," she finally murmured. "I love you, Michael."
"I know you do, Fi." He lovingly brushed her hair back. "And I love you. I was just…shocked."
"So was I. This was the last thing that we were expecting, I know. But it's a baby, Michael. A part of me and you."
His hand slipped under her shirt, absently stroking her abdomen where their unborn child was safely nestled. The pounding in his head intensified, and he rested his head against Fiona's chest.
Fiona gently kissed his head. "You should sleep, Michael. We can talk more when you wake up." She started to pull away, but his arms tightened around her.
Smiling, she laid down against the pillows with him, settling her head on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, and she couldn't resist sliding her hand under his shirt.
With a yawn, Michael pulled her closer and kissed her head. His mother always said that things happened for a reason. Maybe being burned was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Because he got burned, Fiona had come back into his life. And while they had their problems, she was the one that he would never be able to let go. He loved her, with every fiber of his being. Despite the pain that they caused each other, and the heartache they'd both suffered, he couldn't imagine his life with anyone else.
And that was an amazing thing to him.
Fiona yawned deeply and tucked her head under his chin. Her fingers traced absent patterns over his skin. "I love you, Michael."
He closed his eyes and let his fingers weave slowly through her thick hair. No, he couldn't live without her.
"Marry me, Fiona."
The End!
A/N: Yay! This was an idea I've had for a bit, with the Christmas season and all, and I hope that everyone enjoyed it. Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Thanks for reading, and please review!