A/N: I became totally obsessed with this song a few days ago, and I just had to do this songfic. It's been haunting me. I had a really hard time deciding on the structure, so I eventually chose to follow the song's structure, which is pretty loose and flowing and is first person directed at someone else. I hadn't really intended this to come out that way, but it felt right. Because I mostly just went with how it felt and sounded and I was listening to the song the whole time, the tense and other things like that may be a little off. Don't see it as a mistake, per se, but just an expression of the free form metaphorical nature of the song.

Song: Vanilla Twilight by Owl City

Pairing: Michael/Fiona (pretty strong, but more in emotion and reference)

Spoilers: Devil You Know, even if you don't mind being spoiled, you probably won't really understand this until you've seen the ending.

Disclaimer: Not mine, nope, not at all. Though a Jeffrey Donovan of my very own would make an excellent graduation gift. June is coming up. =]

A sigh. Then I slowly tip my head up to look at the stars twinkling overhead. They're so much brighter out here than they are in the city. You always used to say that to me in Dublin and I never understood what you meant until we spent that night out in the meadow behind my parents house and you showed me every constellation you knew and then we made up a few of our own. I wonder if you would remember that…

The stars lean down to kiss you
And I like awake and miss you

I can still see your face on that night, kissed by the pale glow of a million stars, as clear as the beautiful ocean water, as easily recalled as the way your Sig Sauer feels when we clean guns together, even though it's only been two days and three nights since they took you and far more than that since we were last in Ireland. But I still lie awake all night long, wishing I knew where they are keeping you.

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

…because I feel like I can't breathe and I need the air. I need you. I hate to admit to needing anyone, you know that best, so I must be really missing you.

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me

I know that eventually I'll fall asleep and be relatively safe here in the 'safe house,' far from the city, with Sam and Madeline safe in the other rooms. But I would rather have you here with me than be safe and sound, though I know you disagree and always have. Promise me that when you come home, we can just lie down somewhere, curl up and sleep for a few days. I want to feel your arms tuck me in close to your chest and I want to wake up and feel your half-open eyes watching me sleep like you used to.

I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here

Your mother dragged me to the store earlier today and we must have passed three racks of postcards before I realized it would be easier to just wait for her to be done deciding on bread and fruit. I could have sworn every other postcard in that store said "Wishing You Were Here" like the words were mocking me, reminding me how much I wish you were here to help us. It made me feel so alone. I had to walk away and look at all the different types of toothpaste they had just to keep myself in check. You better become a tiny bit traceable soon because Sam says I'm becoming insufferable.

I'll watch the night turn light blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly

Like the past two mornings, I will probably sit up in the early hours, watching the sun come up and the night sky slowly fading to the brilliant azure blue that mimics a gorgeous, upturned glazed bowl, twinkling and perfect in the sunshine. I remember summer mornings in Ireland when we used to do that and we'd hope it would stay sunny. And the one morning in Germany when we got up early enough. That was the morning before the firefight you got shot during, trying to protect me. I know this sunrise won't be the same, though who knows if today is the firefight to get you back. But it's still different because we used to whisper quietly in the nearly silent morning light and now I have no one to whisper to…

The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly

I guess the silence, sitting up on the roof or on the porch or on the balcony of the loft, isn't all that bad. I still feel like I can talk to you through this all encompassing silence, but I look down at my hands and know something is missing. Back when things were good and easy, we would sit somewhere outside, wrapped up in your jacket, tucked into each other, with your arms around my waist and our fingers laced together. And we always fit together so perfectly, but now I have to fit on my own until we find you. Sam's buddies are finding the flight plans and our friends from the old days are coming through, despite O'Neil outing us, with more guns than I could have easily hidden and retrieved. But my H&K USP compact, my shotgun, that gorgeous new rifle coming in, none of them fit as nicely as your hand in mine.

I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days

The eerie stillness of this waiting game makes me edgy, it always has and you always knew that, it did the same thing to you. I've had to find my peace somewhere; my tranquility is the night air, the stars, the moon, the soft sound of the crashing waves not too far from the house, that heady feeling of sleep deprivation, right at the edge of my tolerance. It's been two days since I last slept and this is the second night since I went to your loft and cleaned up and fell asleep in your shirt. I saw the looks Sam and your mother gave me when I walked in with a duffel bag half full of my clothes and the other half full of yours. Something for you to wear when we find you and the rest for me to sleep in when I can't stand it anymore. I pretended like I didn't notice, but I really just didn't care. It's easier that way. At least they haven't started harping on me for not sleeping. But I should, if only because I can hear your voice in my head scolding me for not being at the top of my game. And maybe that's part of my peace, too.

'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone

…which is ironic considering we have yet to even leave the state and it's still warm here. But I feel so cold every time I hear something or see something that is a painful reminder of what happened. I haven't been able to shake that bone aching chill of dread since Madeline told us everything the FBI said to her. Once you're back, the sun and your smile and your eyes will start to melt it all away, for your mother, too.

But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone
I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone

As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight

Since we got here, I've come out here as soon as the sun started to drop and the world descended into twilight. I sit here on the wooden front porch, feet resting on the step, and wait for something, anything, nothing at all. I sit out here all night and think. When I think of you I don't feel quite as alone and that's enough. I reorganize my day and figure out what I need to do tomorrow and I think of what you need us to do here. If I feel like I'm working toward you, it makes the day a little bit easier. I don't feel quite so hopeless. But tonight I will probably fall asleep sitting here and wake up to watch the sun again. I need the sleep and out here I feel connected to you. I know that whatever continent you're on, the ocean still crashes on its shores, and I know that you're still breathing this same air, and that if you can see through a window or the bars of a cell or just through your memory, you're looking at the stars too.

When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again

Once you're home and I can see your eyes twinkle lightly in the sunshine and when our burdens grow light for a moment, my heart will soar. I will finally feel alive again, when I can put my hand in yours and rest my head in the crook of your neck and softly press my lips against yours and make up for the goodbye you didn't get to give me. But for the burdens to grow light, they must first be heavy and if that be in the form of weapons and ammunition to storm whatever facility you're being help in, so be it.

And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you

I'll forget the idea of ever even trying to go back to Ireland. I'll give it all up. The IRA ties, the jobs with ruthless criminals I know nothing about, maybe not the gunrunning or the bounty hunting, but the spirit of the promise is there. I'd do it all just to help you get back here because no matter what happens, there is no way I could ever or would ever want to forget you. I've said it before, so much of who I am is because of what we've done together here and I wouldn't give that up for another day in Ireland. Not ever.

Oh, if my voice could reach
Back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear

…the way I used to, in Dublin. The past we left behind, but these few days I've been wishing I could just talk to the you of that time. I'd whisper little things in your ear, tell you to never let go, remind you that I still care when we fought. I'd even whisper sweet nothings and secrets to the you of this past year, reminding you to not be stupid, to tell you to not take any of those moments for granted. I'd tell you that even after all this time, I still sleep in the same t-shirt of yours I stole from your closet after being here less than two months. It was that first day we started working on the Charger together and I didn't want to get my dress greasy so I put on your shirt instead. And then you told me to take it when I 'accidentally' put a hole in the hem of the front left of the shirt. Do you remember that? It's the same shirt I'm wearing now. It's the same shirt I'll fall asleep in tonight if I ever make it into bed. It's the same shirt I'll pass out here on the porch in if I don't make it to bed. It's the same shirt Madeline will find me in tomorrow morning when she comes outside for her morning coffee and cigarette. It's the one item of your clothing in the duffel bag that you aren't allowed to have. And every time I look down at the faded black cotton and stick my thumb through the hole in the hem, I just want to whisper to you…

Oh darling, I wish you were here.

So this is my second of quite possibly many post-Devil You Know fics. Let me know what you thought about it in a review if you feel so inclined. Thanks for reading!