Hi there Burn Notice fam! Long time no see! This is a pretty short little story, but I've been rewatching Burn Notice while having a bit of free time to write, and then I found this story on my computer from a few years back that was three quarters of the way finished, so here we go! This is a little companion piece to Blind Spot with a few little changes that I wish had been in the episode, particularly after the scene where Jesse threatens Fiona. I was never a fan of the Fi and Jesse thing they attempted to create drama/tension with. In my version of this episode, the two scenes I have included take place a few hours apart. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, please review!

/

Fiona sat in her car, staring at her nails as she waited for Sam to answer the phone. This case was starting to barrel towards the end, and she couldn't wait. She needed this sleazeball, Charles, to get what was coming to him. The other night at the club had been a slightly different version of the plan than they'd been going for, and she knew it was due to her reaction. She hadn't been able to stop herself from getting emotionally involved. Michael had made the decision that she and Sam needed as bit of a break from each other after that. It was probably the safest bet. Even though she'd never admit it, she was glad Sam had been the sensible one in that moment. She even felt a tiny bit bad for the way she'd treated him. Not that she could ever admit that to him, of course.

"Okay, time to wake up Sleeping Beauty. It's been twelve hours." Sam said to Fi over the phone. "Mike there yet?"

"He's running late." She sighed. "It's a pity we have to wake up Charles at all."

"Uh, dead guys are much less likely to visit a bank, Fi." Sam pointed out.

Fi rolled her eyes in response, even though she knew he couldn't see her, just as Michael opened the passenger door to her car and climbed in. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You survived the mosquitos." She quipped.

Michael chuckled. "Barely."

"Alright, Sam. Michael's here, get him moving." She ordered.

The couple sat in silence for a moment before Michael spoke up.

"You know, Fi, Sam told me about the other night at the club." Michael began hesitantly. He'd been concerned when Sam retold the tale of their evening, which almost ended with Fiona blowing Charles' brains all over the wall of the club. Fi was definitely a fan of violent measures, particularly for the especially nasty cases, but her outburst had been a bit extreme, even for her.

Fiona rolled her eyes, keeping her focus trained outside the window. "Spare me the lecture about getting too involved, Michael. He's a slime ball and he would've deserved it."

"I wasn't going to lecture you, Fi." Michael said softly.

The tone of his voice made her turn her head, and she was surprised to find his slightly concerned expression aimed at her.

She turned back to the window with a sigh. "It doesn't matter anyway. Sam stopped me from doing any damage, and we've got a new plan."

"Sam told me about the woman Charles was working, and how she told you about losing her sister." Michael continued gently.

She whipped her head back around to him. "Michael, let it go." She asked, her eyes almost pleading with him.

His chest constricted at the look on her face. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Fi."

"I'm perfectly fine with the new plan, and you don't need to worry about me with this job." She said dismissively, avoiding his eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant, Fi." He sighed. He reached over to place his hand on her thigh, rubbing his thumb against her gently.

She softened slightly at his obvious concern for her. Sam knew about Claire, but only the barest details, so she understood why he would have mentioned it to Michael. The man beside her knew her better than anyone, and was the only person who knew just how much her sister's death had affected her.

She bridged the gap between their bodies to place her palm on his cheek. "It's very sweet of you to worry, Michael, but I promise I'm fine." She smiled softly to reassure him.

He smiled back, bringing his hand up to cover hers on his face for a brief moment. "Okay."

Movement from outside pulled his attention away from her, and he nodded his head towards Sam and Charles, who had emerged from the house. They watched as the slimy Englishman yelled and waved his hands around at Sam, gesturing towards the Bentley that Chuck Finley had informed him was now his.

"Time to go." Michael pointed as Charles climbed into the car, reversed out of the driveway and set off down the road.

Fi set her Hyundai into drive and followed him. They tailed him to an office building, and watched as he went in. They began listening to his conversation through the bug Sam had planted, before the static began disturbing the connection.

"Ah." Michael sighed. "We need to get closer."

Fi directed the car into the building's parking lot. She and Michael continued to listen as the slimey Brit verbally abused his lawyer, rambling on about the Bentley he had bought while on his 'bender'.

"Tony, head out to the front lawn. Check out that blue car." They heard another guy order through the listening device. "Is there any chance you were followed here?" The man asked Charles.

"Dammit." Michael muttered, looking around them. There were no other cars around, or anywhere to hide.

"If we leave now, it'll tip him off that someone's watching." Fiona pointed out.

"I know." He sighed, trying to think of a plan in the spur of the moment as they watched a security guard approaching.

When your surveillance is about to be blown, you have two choices. You can run, or you can stay put and make it look like you have a reason to be there.

Michael turned to Fiona, her expression telling him she didn't have a plan.

He grinned at her. "I'd say sorry for this, but I'm sure you won't mind."

She looked at him in confusion before he leaned forward to press his lips against hers, his hand winding itself into her long tresses.

She quickly picked up on his plan, submitting whole-heartedly to this new stage of their mission. She pushed her body closer to his, leaning across the console of her car. She brought her hands up to his face, cupping his sides of his cheeks. His hands drifted down to her back, holding her firmly against him.

The two of them were so locked in their embrace that it took more than a minute for them to realise that the security guard was right beside the car, knocking impatiently on the window.

The couple broke apart from each other suddenly, breathing heavily. Fiona slid back down into her own seat as Michael wound down the window to speak with the guard.

"What?" Michael asked, slipping into his clueless character cover ID without missing a beat.

Fiona bit her lip to hide the grin that was threatening to overtake her face while he dealt with the guard. Michael sure did have the flair when it counted. This was why she loved working with him on missions. Or at least it was one of the reasons.

/

"Michael?" Fi called out as she entered the loft. "You here?" Their little rendezvous on the job before had certainly been fun, and she was hoping he was home so they could take a break together.

Suddenly there was movement behind her, a hand pushing the door closed with its usual loud bang. She whirled her head around to find Jesse standing before her, pointing a gun at her.

"Hey, Fi." He said, his voice raspier than usual.

"What's going on, Jesse?" She asked in confusion, eyes darting between the weapon and his face.

"You know, something was, uh- something was bothering me for the last few days." He pushed her further into the loft. "I was having a hard time putting my finger on it. Then I talked to my old handler, Marv? You remember him, right?"

Fiona was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Jesse tapped his finger on the screen of the laptop sitting open on the bench, bringing some surveillance footage to life.

"There's no security footage from the military annex on the day that I was burned. It's all been wiped. But, uh, there's another facility across the street. Marv found that footage hadn't been erased. So it turns out that at the exact same moment that I was accused of stealing government files, someone else was rushing away from the annex."

He directed her focus to the laptop screen again, where the footage clearly showed Michael running across the street to the car where she had been waiting.

Dammit, Michael, she thought. Why do you have such a distinctive run?

"That doesn't mean-" she tried to begin covering their tracks.

"No. No. No!" Jesse said, getting louder with each word. "You do not get to lie to me anymore!" He yelled, waving the gun right in front of her face.

"Michael burned me, and you all helped cover it up." He said, his face fiercely set.

"It wasn't meant to happen." She told him desperately, tears beginning to line her eyes. "We've been trying to take Barrett out so you can get back in."

"Everything that's happened since the day that I met you people has been a lie."

"No, that's not true-" she protested, only to be cut off again.

"And Michael, he's a spy. You know, I should expect that from him, but you … I thought I meant something to you."

"You do." She said breathlessly.

"You can stop." He ordered. "You can stop right there." He cocked the gun.

Fiona gasped, realising that this was the end. This would be how she died. She'd always expected it to be in a fiery explosion, or at the hands of an enemy. She'd never expected it from someone she'd come to depend on as a friend and colleague over the last few months.

"Goodbye, Fiona." He said simply.

"No, Jesse. Please." She begged, before squeezing her eyes shut. There was no way she'd be able to watch as he killed her. She kept them closed, saying a fast prayer, as she'd been taught as a child, and sent her last fleeting moment to Michael. Then she waited for the pain, for death.

The sound of the door opening made her open her eyes. Jesse had left. She glanced around the loft, gasping, as she confirmed that he really was gone. Breathing raggedly, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled a familiar number.

"Yeah, Fi?" She'd never been so relieved to hear his voice.

"Jesse found out about everything. He had a gun." She gasped through the phone, her voice sounding almost unfamiliar to herself.

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you okay?"

"We ruined his life, Michael." She barrelled on, not even knowing how to answer his question. What was she supposed to say?

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." She answered breathlessly. "But I think he's gonna make us pay."

"Stay put. I'll be right there." He ordered.

She ended the call without answering him. She managed to stand on shaky legs, and lead herself out to the balcony, gripping tightly to the wooden railing to support herself. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but it couldn't have been long, knowing Michael's driving habits when something had happened. Sure enough, his loud, panicked voice echoed through the loft.

"Fi!"

She turned and headed back into the loft as quickly as she could manage.

"Michael." She breathed in relief.

He strode forward to meet her in the middle of the room, taking her into his arms instantly. She sank against his chest, gripping at the back of his t-shirt with clenched fingers.

"Are you alright?" His voice was desperate in a way that she rarely heard from him.

He pulled back slightly and slipped his hands up to cup her face, just like he had hours ago in the car. Only things were so different now.

She brought her eyes up to his. "I'm okay." She breathed out slowly, still calming her racing heart.

"Did he hurt you?" Michael demanded.

She let out a ragged breath. "He tried to." She murmured.

Michael's face tightened even more. "He's going to be the one hurting when I find him."

"Michael, don't." She begged. "We did do what he said we did."

"But his problem is with me, not with you!" He growled, dropping his arms and stepping away from her in frustration.

"Michael, please!"

He whirled back around to face her, his shoulders dropping when he caught sight of her still pale face. His Fi almost never looked so vulnerable. He made his way back to her, pulling her into his arms again.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. "We're going to figure this out, I promise."

She nodded against his chest.

"We need to be careful though, Michael, especially you. I don't think he's finished with us."

Michael sighed and rested his chin on her head. He kept one hand gripped tightly around her waist while he let the other one drift up and down her back in a soothing motion. His intense need to protect her was running rampant within him.

Fiona let out a shaky breath, her body shuddering beneath his hands.

"You okay?" He murmured, even though he knew it was a stupid question to ask.

Fiona turned her head slightly, nestling even further into his strong chest.

"I really thought he was going to kill me." She whispered. She felt Michael's arms tighten even further around her in response. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

She had been in positions where there were guns trained on her, or the threat of death countless times. But to have it by the hands of someone she considered a friend was completely different. She felt like the rug had been swept out from under her, and Michael was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Michael sighed, but the tension didn't leave his body. "He's angry with us, but he was clearly sending a message by coming after you instead of me. He knows how important you are to me."

Fi didn't answer, just tightened her grip on his shirt with her fingers. Michael loosened his grip slightly so that he could tuck a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to him.

"I won't let him hurt you, Fi." Resolve was set on his face, and the love in his eyes was undeniable.

"I won't let him hurt you either, Michael." Fiona replied. Her own determination took over her face, replacing the fear that was still present.

Michael nodded, leaning down to kiss her softly. He would do whatever it took, as long as he had her by his side.