So here's another post prison story. I started writing this ages ago, and then left it for a while because I wasn't sure how to finish it. When I watch Long Way Back, I always love the beginning scene with Michael and Fi talking as he's looking at pictures of the two of them. I always liked the idea that he continued to look at them throughout the series, even if the writers never showed it. That's where the idea for this story came from. Then, a few days ago I came across the Burn Notice graphic novels that are published on the USA Network website. I recommend them for a bit of fun. The third volume is set after the season 5 finale, when Michael is upset about Fi being in jail. And coincidentally, the first page has Michael looking at what looks like the same photo of Fi from the Long Way Back episode. That inspired me to finish this. That graphic novel also explains how Fi and Michael met in Dublin, like in 7.02 Forget Me Not, although not all the details are correct since it was written a year or so before the episode. There are some similarities though. So there's the long explanation of how I came to write this story. It's only a short one, but I hope you enjoy it. As always, I do not own anything to do with Burn Notice, it all belongs to Matt Nix.

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We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

Time's forever frozen still

She couldn't sleep. Months in prison had taught her to sleep with one eye open, and in short bursts at a time. As a result, her already disturbed sleep pattern had become even worse.

She sat up in bed, legs stretched in front of her with her hands in her lap. She turned her head to look at Michael, who was sleeping somewhat soundly beside her. He was an even lighter sleeper than her, but he had been running himself ragged since her return home as he searched for Nate's killer. He had fallen victim to his exhaustion a few hours ago.

She smiled at the sight of him, her chest filling with such love for him. She had missed him so much while she'd been away, she wasn't quite sure how she had made it through, but she'd known it was the hope that he would get her out. She'd meant every word in the letters she'd sent him during her incarceration, and while they'd never discussed them, she knew how he felt. It was obvious with every look and touch. Her heart ached for him as she thought of all he'd been put through lately, more burdens in his life that he certainly did not deserve. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help but feel guilty for the events leading to the younger Westen's death, as it had been her actions that caused Michael to search for Anson, and for Nate to be caught in the crossfire. She missed her almost brother-in-law as well, his carefree spirit and ability to wind Michael up so easily had always been entertaining. There had been no glimpse of the lighter side of her boyfriend lately, as his serious, focused spy side had completely taken over. He had also become excessively protective over her, something most women would enjoy, but Fiona Glenanne was no one's damsel in distress. She indulged Michael however, letting him take control because she knew he was grieving. She too knew the pain of losing a sibling, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

With one last glance at her sleeping boyfriend, she slid out of their bed, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Her sleepless nights had become routine over the past couple of weeks, between her haunting memories of prison and concern for Michael. Her insomnia had become rather irritating, as she searched for things to do that would keep her occupied without waking him. That ruled out pretty much all of her favourite activities involving guns and explosives.

Her gaze rose to the upstairs section of the loft, remembering a book she had left up there a few nights earlier. Moving silently across the room, she climbed the stairs to the area that held the couch and Michael's ancient computer on the desk. Picking up the book from the otherwise empty space, her eyes fell to a small metal box that had been placed in the corner of the desk. Her interest piqued, she picked it up, her brow furrowing when she didn't recognise it. Having been with Michael for so long, and living in the loft for a number of months, she was surprised to find something she had no knowledge of. She also knew most of his hiding spots that were scattered throughout their home, not that he had been hiding this particular item very well.

Realising the box was locked; she debated her options for a brief second before pulling the spare pin from her hair, using it to pick the lock, as was second nature. Hearing the satisfying click, she pulled the lid off of the box and peered inside. Her breath caught in her throat when she looked upon the contents.

She reached in to pull out a number of photographs, shuffling through them delicately. They were mostly photos of her, taken in various locations but all during her time with Michael after they had first met. There she was on the streets of Dublin, another one in Belfast. Her mouth spread into a slight smile as she recalled each picture being taken, the memories of a younger Michael filling her mind. She chuckled quietly when she realised some of them were old surveillance photos from before they'd officially met, her dark hair and bangs serving as evidence for her conclusion.

She slid each photo to the back after studying it, her eyes widening as she took in the next one. It was a shot of her and Michael kissing, looking as happy as they'd ever been. She couldn't recall the photo being taken, but she immediately fell in love with it. It was incredibly romantic, and very unlike Michael to keep such personal items around, especially tangible items such as photos of other people. It was possibly the sweetest thing he'd ever done, and something she never would have expected from him. The last photo was the same one of them that Madeline had brought to her in prison, the one that she'd clung so desperately to. Looking at it again brought back the pain of being separated from him.

She went to place the photos back in the box, and immediately recognised the pieces of paper that were placed beneath them. They were the letters she had written to him while in prison. Heaviness filled her heart as she remembered with such clarity the loss and desperation she had felt while she had been away from him. Opening the first letter, she realised it was the one of the first few letters she had sent. The paper was worn; giving the impression that it had been read multiple times, yet looked after. She smoothed the edges down as she began to read.

Dear Michael,

I can't even begin to tell you how much it meant to see you yesterday. Things are already so hard in here, and seeing any familiar face would have been lovely, but the fact that it was you made my entire week. It was torture to have you so close, yet separated by glass. How I wish I could have touched you, felt your lips against mine. What I wouldn't give to have your arms around me now.

I know it was hard for you to be here, and I'm glad you held it together better than I did. Your stories of us in Ireland were comforting, but it was the look in your eyes as you told them that meant so much more to me. I miss you so much, Michael, nothing is the same without you around. I'm not sure how I ever did it in the years after you left Ireland, but I hope I somehow manage to keep my sanity in here. I know you're doing everything you can to get me out, and I appreciate that, but please, don't sacrifice too much for me. I'll be fine in here while you sort everything out. I have complete faith in you. I'll see you soon.

Love, Fi.

She brushed a stray tear from her face, remembering how desolate she had felt while writing it. Her thoughts in prison had consisted entirely of Michael, and keeping herself safe. Reading the letters was almost like being transported back there; reliving memories she would rather forget. She honestly couldn't believe Michael had kept them. He wasn't an incredibly sentimental person, and she hadn't considered the letters past the point of writing them and hoping they would manage to get to him.

She read the other letters within the box before placing all the items back in the box and locking it. She returned to box to its location and made her way back down the stairs to bed. Reading the letters had managed to exhaust her mind enough to hopefully get some sleep.

She sat down on the bed and slid under the sheets as quietly as she could. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough for the man beside her with spy reflexes. The movement of the bed beneath him jolted him from his slumber.

"Fi?" Michael murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

Fiona leant down to kiss his temple softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"It's okay." Michael said, pulling himself into a sitting position. "Are you alright?" His hand reached across to tenderly brush her hair away from her face.

She smiled softly at him. "I'm fine."

"You haven't been sleeping enough." He said worriedly.

"Yeah, I just haven't been tired." She attempted to brush off his concerns.

"It's been weeks now, Fi." He swept his hand over her bare shoulder. "You need to rest."

"I can't, Michael." She dropped her gaze down to the bed below them.

He shifted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her lower back. "I know what nightmares are like, Fi. But we have to do something about this. You can't keep going on like this."

She sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder. "I know."

He ran a hand up and down her shoulder soothingly. "What were you doing while I was sleeping?"

"I just look for things to amuse me until I feel tired." She told him. "I actually found something interesting."

"Really? What was it?" he murmured, kissing the top of her head softly.

"Some photos." She smiled. "Of you and me."

Michael took a moment to clear his throat before answering her. "I'm surprised it took you so long to find them."

She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. "Yes, considering you didn't hide them very well at all. How long have you had them?"

He shrugged. "A long time. Sometimes I just need to look at them."

"Like when I was in prison?" She asked softly.

He nodded. "After I left you in Ireland, and a few years ago, when you were going to go back. I looked at them a lot while you were gone. That's why the box is still there. I guess I'd forgotten I left it in plain view."

"It's very unlike you, Michael. I was surprised to find them." She confessed.

"I know it seems a bit strange for me," he admitted. "But you know how I feel about you, Fi. Even if I'm not the best at saying it."

She smiled, lifting her head to press a kiss to his lips. "I do know, Michael." She said softly.

He smiled back at her, locking his blue eyes on hers. "Those letters were everything to me, Fi. It hurt so much to read them but they were all I had. They helped me remember what I had to do."

She brushed her fingers across his jawline, touched by his show of emotion. "Your mom brought me a picture of us, and I held on to it so desperately. I could feel myself losing it, and that photo reminded me of why I had done what I did." She confessed. Being away from him had been harder than she'd expected, and it had taken its toll on her, as much as she hated to admit it.

He pulled her closer and held her smaller body against his, keeping their lips in contact. He had missed her so much, and she was the only thing keeping him going at the moment. He knew without her he would have fallen apart completely.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry for how things have been since you got back, Fi." He murmured. "You deserve better."

She sighed right back. "It's not your fault Michael. I told you, all I want is to be with you. Just remember that."

He nodded, sliding his body so that he was lying down, pulling her with him. She settled herself against him, draping one leg over his and an arm over his chest. She realised, with relief, that her eyes felt heavy as they began to drift closed.

"Go to sleep, Fi." Michael murmured, running his fingertip in patterns over her shoulder. "I've got you."

He felt her body relax against his as she slipped into unconsciousness, and he relaxed himself, knowing that she was finally feeling at peace. He stared down at her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the smoothness of her expression as the tension left her. He thought back to all the nights he had spent here alone, wondering how she was and wishing he could hold her. She was finally back with him, and although his heart was weighed down with the cruel loss of his brother, she was the light who managed to relieve the pressure slightly.

I miss you, Nate, and I'm so sorry, he thought. Thank you for helping to bring her back to me.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed against his pillow and pushed the thoughts of his little brother from his head, focusing on the feel of Fiona in his arms. He would worry about everything else tomorrow, but for tonight he would be thankful for her.