Authors Note: First off, thank you to all who have reviewed thus far. I usually try and respond to each and every review, but I've been busy with school and got distracted half way through my responses. Just know that I treasure each and every review as though they were freshly made cookies.
Just as an FYI, I re-did chapters one and two. There's nothing drastically different, the main ideas are still the same, I just cleaned up some transitions and quotes and added some details. You might not even notice any differences but if you do feel so inclined know that they are there and I feel better about them. Now, onto Michael's point of view.
It has been two years now.
Two years without her voice, her touch, her unique scent.
Two insufferable years.
The first couple months I don't even remember. I woke up, ate a little, worked out, and slept. These days were often interrupted by visits from Sam, Jesse and my mother, all trying to get me to go out, or help with a job.
Nate even stopped by once. He had Charlie with him, and I think this was some kind of ploy to try and get me to react to something. I think they thought that I might find some meaning in my crying nephew. Nate stayed for an hour, and when he realized his tactics weren't working, he asked me for twenty dollars and then left.
They didn't understand.
No one understood.
Fiona has been with me in Miami from the beginning. She was there when I woke up and has been there ever since. Without her, it's like I'm back in Afghanistan; in a cave with no one who speaks the right language.
Fiona and I didn't need words to communicate, we didn't even need facial expressions or gestures, we just knew.
She was my other half, and without her there was nothing.
I tried for the first few weeks after her arrest, to get her back.
I did everything right.
I went to Pearce right after I saw the last of Fi. I did what she wanted and I told Pearce everything. Everything about Anson, Management and the network of burned spies. She wasn't happy that I kept everything from her, but she felt a lot better than she would have if the FBI had just sprung this on her.
It took eight, sixteen hour days of debriefing and statements. Sam and Jesse were questioned, even my mother was brought in, but I had the majority of Pearce's time.
There were no more secrets in my life.
It felt good.
But then all the questions came to an end and I got a lot of, "we'll be in touch."
Sam talked to his buddies but Fi wasn't in the normal channels. She wasn't registered in any of the federal prisons. I asked Pearce but even she wasn't privy to that kind of information.
Fi was gone.
And I was left with nothing.
Oddly enough it was one of Fiona's stupid plants that brought me back. Fiona had put a few plants throughout the loft to spruce it up and make it feel like the home that it was when she was in it. I rolled my eyes but let her do what she wanted, because as long as she was in the loft it was home.
After two months of not being watered, it inevitability died and I was left with several dead houseplants. For some reason I thought about how pissed Fiona would be if she came back and saw what a wreck the place was, so I started cleaning.
When the loft was somewhat presentable again I got a shower and shaved the massive accumulation of hair off my face, put on my Armani suit, and went to Carlito's.
From there, I started taking jobs here and there with Sam, and things proceeded as relatively normal as they could without one of the main members of our team.
After about a year, I started talking with Pearce more seriously about getting my old job back. And after tons of paperwork and psych evaluations, I was cleared for some minor duties and I even got my former security clearance back.
It was strange, to say the least. When I first got back to Miami after being burned, I wanted nothing more to get back into the good graces of the CIA and get as far away from my hometown and ex-girlfriend as possible. Now though, the CIA was more of a hobby than a full time job. My real job was helping Sam, Jesse and my mother help the down-on-their-luck citizens of Miami, and any other spare time was spent tracking down leads on Fi's whereabouts.
But this is my life now, and it is a far cry from anything I ever wanted it to be.
I now realize that Fiona has been the piece of my life that I never knew I needed, but now can't stand to be without. There's a giant crater that has been blown out of my life and without Fi it will never be filled again. I've spent so much of my life denying what she is to me because I was afraid of everything that I feel for her.
I was afraid that I would fall in love with her. And the only example of "love" I ever saw ended with a punch to side of the face.
I feel that part of my father inside me all the time, lurking there, looking for a reason to come out and strike. But there's a much bigger piece of me that Fi has created, along with Sam, Jesse and even my mother and Nate. That piece of me has shown me that there's more to people than manipulation, anger, violence and apologies. People can be trusted and loved. And I know now that I do love Fi, more than anything.
It's typical that the second I make this drastic discovery about myself, is the same second that I see the love of my life being lead away in handcuffs.
But I can't just stay in the loft and be miserable without her. I have too much talent and skills to have them be wasted away. So instead of mourning her in solitude, I keep busy and try not to think about her out in public. I keep my mind on the task at hand, the client, and the mark.
At the present moment, the mark is a shady business man who is the largest distributor of weapons sold to the Syrian government. The weapons are then being used on Syrian rebel forces, as well as innocent women and children caught in the crosshairs, to try and dissuade a political uprising.
The business man is a Spaniard named Álvaro de Luna. The CIA wants to stop all the weapons transactions going in to Syria to try and allow for peace talks to begin, but to do that they first need the name of de Luna's supplier. I have been spying on de Luna for the past three days in his flat in San Sebastian, but so far all I have found is that he has quite the taste for younger women.
It's quite disconcerting watching such a large, old, unattractive murderer pay for such disgusting acts with girls no older than twenty. The CIA had sprung for an apartment across the street with a convenient view into de Luna's bedroom window, so I had had to resign myself to watch these scenes several times a day since I had arrived in San Sebastian.
For the past two hours de Luna had been looking for his next fix at the closest beach. He and the women were heading back towards his apartment arm in arm along the sidewalk. de Luna seemed to be taking his time walking back, and by the smirk on his face he was enjoying showing off the woman on his arm and thinking about the things that were to come.
His newest conquest seems to be much more attractive than his last few ladies. From what I can see she has beautiful long, tanned legs and a petite, thin frame. Her face is hidden by a large, white sun hat that matched her flowing Spanish dress.
As I was preparing myself for the repellant images I was about to endure, the young woman turned around and removed her sun hat. As she flipped her hair back I saw a face I didn't think I'd ever see again. My mouth hung open as I jumped out of my chair and ran to place my whole body up against the glass of the window. The binoculars I was using were bearing into my eye sockets. I thought I was seeing things.
Right before she and de Luna were about to cross the threshold into the apartment complex, she turned around to sensually kiss him on the cheek, and in that moment she looked up from the sidewalk to glance directly up towards my hiding spot on the 17th floor.
She winked.
The one woman who had occupied my dreams and thoughts for the past two years was standing, just seventeen floors below me, about to have sex with a man that I was supposed to interrogate and take into custody.
As she and de Luna disappeared into the complex, all my thoughts about training and strategy left me. I ran out of my apartment, with my only thought being that I had to get to her.
I had to get to Fiona.