Here's another oneshot. I hope you like it!
I have another multi-chapter that I'm planning on posting soon so keep an eye out for that.
Thanks as always to all my followers, reviewers, and readers. I appreciate your input!
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The first time that Fiona Glenanne should have left Michael Westen was when she found out his name was Michael Westen.
When they had met, he'd introduced himself as Michael McBride, an Irishman from Kilkenny. His boldness in the face of her snub-nose revolver had earned him a dance, a dance that had lasted all night and into the morning. And as the sun rose, Fiona wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever.
Fiona was a smart woman, and she knew that initial attraction should not be taken too seriously. She agreed to work with Michael on his mission to take down Hannon so that she could gain an accurate representation of his personality and more importantly, tactical awareness. The undercover spy had impressed her and then some. She didn't know where he had gotten his training, but had to admit that his abilities rivaled hers. By the end of their first job together, she was hooked.
Fiona had jumped into their blossoming relationship with both feet, sharing her deepest secrets and strongest desires with the man who had captured her heart so quickly. She thought he had returned the favor, by confiding in her about the death of his sister and his hatred for the Brits.
It was only by accident that she discovered the truth about her lover. Everything he'd told her was a lie. He had tricked her and used her. He had lied to her like no one had before, and she had fallen for it completely. And when she had found out the truth, she felt it would only be fair to shoot him where he stood.
But she didn't.
"I never meant to hurt you," he had sworn.
The regret in his eyes was real, she could tell. She just didn't know whether he regretted lying to her or getting caught. If his SEAL friend hadn't let the truth slip, she doubted her boyfriend would have ever come clean. They had already been together for a year, and he hadn't once tried to clue her in.
"I've never felt this way before," he continued, but was he begging for her forgiveness or his own life? "I've never gotten this close to an asset."
And there was that word. Asset. She was a free agent. He had convinced her they were partners. But when it came down to it, she was no more than an asset to Michael Westen. So why should she show him any mercy?
The hot-tempered Irishwoman kept a steady grip on her gun, but something had interrupted the signal that her brain was trying to send to her trigger finger. She supposed it was her heart. Because even though Michael's mouth had told her lies, his eyes spoke the truth. And as she held his life in her hands, she knew that he held a piece of her soul. So, after throwing some halfhearted warning about never wanting to see him again, Fiona walked out of Michael Westen's life.
Or so she had tried. But as she lay in bed that night, she couldn't help but think of the man named Michael, and what would happen to him when she wasn't there to protect him from Hannon. And that's when she realized that it wasn't Michael McBride or Michael Westen who had stolen her heart. It was him. All of him. His good heart, his sharp mind, the way his body covered hers unconsciously as they slept. And as strong as she was, she wasn't strong enough to leave him. Not yet.
So she went to the meet to save the man she loved, because she had to and always would. And when he offered to make her dinner, in an effort to begin to heal their relationship, she had agreed. Not because she wanted to find out who he really was, but because she could see in his eyes that he was the man she had fallen in love with. And when they made love that night she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that their feelings were real.
Fiona knew she should have walked away, left Michael, killed him even. But it seemed as though his soul and hers were inextricably tangled. And so when he left her only a few nights later, under the cover of darkness, she was hurt and angry, but she knew that it wasn't the end. Not if she had anything to do with it.
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The second time Fiona should have left Michael was when he slapped her for the first time ever. It was done in order to save her life and she knew that, but it didn't make the blow to her soul sting any less. Michael had hit her before, during their many fights, most of which were initiated by Fiona herself. Those times had all been self-defense, and she had all but demanded the physical contact. But she never thought that he would raise a hand to her without her permission.
When she had first seen him flying towards her, she hadn't known what to expect. There was something wrong, she could tell by the wild expression on his face, and so she had approached him, searching for an explanation. What she had gotten was a hard slap to the cheek that left her reeling. She felt a barrage of emotions overcome her, but the one that stood out was shock...shock that Michael had purposefully hurt her.
The former spy had never completely conveyed to her the details of his troublesome childhood, but she had heard enough to know that Michael's father had been violent towards his family. She supposed that was why he was so drawn to her extreme feistiness. Despite what he claimed, violence was foreplay to him too.
This had been different though. It wasn't a passionate battle for dominance in bed. It wasn't an agreed upon step in a preplanned mission. It was Michael, feeling scared, and choosing to hit her, thinking he had to hit her. She had always told him to walk away if he felt like something wasn't right, and hitting her wasn't right.
After the slap, Fiona was livid, but she knew that all of their lives depended on her ability to say the right things at the right time. She tried to keep her voice steady, but couldn't hold in the expression of betrayal on her face.
When Michael had reached out to cup her cheek in one of his rare gestures of love, for a split second she'd thought he was going to strike her again. Of course he hadn't, but she still felt a wave of unease that she was unable to predict his actions.
Upon realizing that she no longer knew who Michael was, Fiona prepared to leave Miami and return home. She tried to avoid thinking about what life would be like when she no longer saw Michael every day. Although, she supposed, he'll be going back to the CIA soon anyway. Better to leave now than get left behind in a few months.
She had tried to leave, she really had. Her guns were shipped and she had told her mother her plans, but for some reason, she was having trouble actually returning to Ireland. She lined up a couple of jobs, for a little extra cash, she told herself. But deep down she knew that it was just an excuse to spend a couple more days near Michael. As was her search for the USP compact, which she certainly didn't need.
When her brother had shown up with news that one of her old enemies was coming for her, she was understandably rattled. But she found that her faith in Michael hadn't wavered as much as she thought. Perhaps it was the reappearance of Michael McBride, but Fiona found herself trusting him just as much as she always had. And in typical Michael Westen Grand Gesture fashion, he had killed Strickler, his ticket back to the CIA, in order to save her from a terrible fate. He had proven himself at the last minute, and she finally accepted that she didn't want to leave him. Fiona knew that he would inevitably leave her, but she was prepared to wait by his side until that day arrived.
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The third time that Fiona should have left Michael was the most dangerous yet. He had just revealed that he was going to sacrifice himself in order to get her, Jesse, and the NOC list free from the abandoned hotel.
He had left her standing there, still unable to process what he was about to do, with the words, Maybe it's time you went your own way, echoing in her mind. He had said nothing else to her. She waited for a kiss, or a goodbye, but was given neither. Perhaps it was his way of setting her free from any responsibility she might feel towards him.
And so she had gone her own way, following Jesse down the hallway, each step carrying her further from death, further from him. But she had stopped, because more than her own life, she wanted to be with him. It should have been a shock for her to feel that way, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than desperation to be by Michael's side.
Jesse had been disappointed but not surprised by her decision, and had let her go, because he knew when it came to Michael and Fiona, it was always each other. For better or for worse.
Fiona ran through the hail of gunfire, not letting her mind dwell on how suicidal her choice was, and dove through the damaged shed to land where she belonged.
Michael had been upset, and understandably so. She knew that he had never meant for her to die with him, but there was no time to argue about it. All they could do was work together one last time.
When they ran out of bullets, and options, Michael had taken out the bomb.
"We'll do this together," Fiona had demanded, knowing that if she couldn't live with Michael, she could at least die with him. They joined hands over the makeshift explosive, taking what little time they had to look into each other's eyes and convey all the things that didn't need to be said.
Had Michael been alone, Fiona knew that he would have set the bomb off already. He was delaying the inevitable for her sake; he was still trying to save her life.
Even then, when she was seconds away from no longer existing, she didn't even think of leaving him. If there was any time she belonged by his side, it was then. And no matter how things turned out, she would never regret choosing to die with him over living without him.
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The fourth time that Fiona should have left Michael, she actually did leave him...eventually.
The truth of the matter was that she should have either turned herself in or fled the country the minute Anson blackmailed Michael. She should have left her boyfriend to sort out the mess on his own, without the threat of her behind bars looming over his head.
But she hadn't.
They had been so content with their relationship just the way it was. They were working well together, and finally living together! She simply couldn't walk away from the life she had wanted for so long.
And Michael had seemed so confident that he would defeat Anson, at least in the beginning. She knew he was reluctant to do the jobs he was being forced to complete, but he did every one of them. He did them for her.
Fiona had offered to leave a couple of times, but Michael wouldn't hear of it. It was a far cry from when she had first come to Miami. She couldn't help but be flattered by how far he would go to keep her safe and in his arms.
Until he began to go too far. The things that Michael was doing were completely against everything he believed in, everything they believed in. He was using his long sought after position in the CIA to betray his country. And she herself was the reason why. She supposed he would do whatever he could to protect any one of his family and friends, but she doubted it would be with the same unwavering conviction.
Finally, when Anson asked Michael to burn some fellow agents - his own team - Fiona knew it had gone too far. This was not the Michael Westen she knew, the man devoted to his country above anything else. She had weakened him somehow. In her desperation to be the most important thing in his life, she had failed to realize that she already was. She had told him that he was going too far, crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
"There is no line when it comes to you!" he had shouted, leaving her speechless.
He had spoken soft words then, desperately trying to convince her to stay with him, and she had again felt his gravitational pull - until she felt cold metal close around her wrists and heard the clink of handcuffs.
She had looked at him in disbelief, but he left her trapped, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. Once again she had been prevented from leaving her lover, this time by chains.
Before, she had accepted her inability to leave, and stayed by Michael's side at all cost, even that of her own life. This time, however, the cost was Michael's life, and she would pay any price for that.
So when Sam arrived at the loft, it had been easy to convince him to see things her way and free her from the cuffs. She had wasted no time in writing a letter, grabbing her bag, and heading to city hall.
Just as she was about to enter the building, however, she heard his voice behind her, shouting her name in a way that mimicked the way she had shouted his only hours before.
She had turned to look at him, yearning to run into his arms and never leave. But she couldn't, because she had to save him. And so she continued up the stairs to meet her fate.
As she stood there, watching him read her letter while she was handcuffed for the second time that day, she knew that leaving was the right decision. It was painful for both of them, but necessary. Because when you love a spy, you have to be willing to make sacrifices.
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The fifth time Fiona should have left Michael was when he turned to the metaphorical dark side.
He had been going down a bad path ever since he had been reinstated by the CIA. She didn't know where he was, no one seemed to. But she convinced herself that she was better off without him...convinced herself to move on.
Then, when he had returned, once again asking for her help, she had agreed for what was finally the last time. Or so she had told herself, and him, and Carlos. But none of them had truly believed it. She had been proud of herself for standing her ground when he had come back to Miami. She had stuck with Carlos, because she was nothing if not stubborn.
But having Fiona betray their love in such a final way, had done more damage to Michael's psyche than she thought it would. He had nothing left, and so he'd immersed himself in his work, doing whatever was needed to complete the mission. And what he did had hurt her. She knew that it wasn't fair to expect Michael not to move on, when she ostensibly had, but it didn't alleviate the jealousy in her chest.
If she were stronger, smarter, less in love with Michael, perhaps she would have been able to live with his choice to join James's organization. Sam and Jesse had both had enough, and were ready to cut their losses. But Fiona and Madeline had managed to get Michael one last chance at redemption. And Fiona, like so many times before, was ready to save Michael or die trying.
She had run up to the roof as fast as she could and, swinging open the door and shading her eyes, focused on the center of her world. He had tried to push her away, force her to leave, in order to save her. But she'd never been able to leave him before, not for good, and she wasn't about to start then.
Her only hope of saving Michael was to make him choose between an organization of his own with unlimited resources and power, and herself. His ex-girlfriend.
On paper it was a risky move, virtually suicidal. But she had thrown down her final card, because she believed in Michael, the man she loved. And if she was unable to reach him, then her love was truly lost.
For a split second, as Sonya held a gun pointing at her heart, Fiona thought she would die. Michael looked so brainwashed, so confused, that she accepted it was the end for her. She could only hope that her death would be the reality check Michael needed to see James for the monster he was.
But when she heard the bang of the gun, it wasn't she herself who collapsed to the cement. She nearly laughed at the look of surprise on Sonya's face. She had clearly underestimated the power Fiona held over Michael, and it had cost the woman her life.
Fiona slowly saw the light return to Michael's eyes, along with the confidence they normally embodied during a battle. And as he grabbed Fiona's hand and led her towards safety, Fiona was glad that she never did what she should.