A/N: Thank you to everyone for the reviews on here and on twitter, the PM's and favourite story and author adds. I really do appreciate everyone who has supported me throughout the fandoms I've been involved with.
My sympathies with the finale lie with Fiona, as those of you who have read this will already know. If you want to read something from the opposite side that is beautifully written then I'd like to recommend my friend Caroline Jessamine's story It's Not Over.
Huge thanks to my special friends Purdy's Pal and JediSkysinger for reading through this and the rewrites. Extra thanks also to JediSkysinger for finding the time to BETA for me.
Lastly special thanks to DaisyDay for being so wonderful, and all of the girls on twitter for being the most beautiful people I have ever been fortunate to know. You're all very special and I am so blessed to have all of you in my life.
Lastly Happy New Year to all of you. I wish you all a happy and healthy 2013
3
Fire flared in Fiona's eyes when Michael refused to release her arm. He was being absolutely infuriating and confusing her with his insistence. This wasn't how he was supposed to act, not now that he had his life back. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to offer him a string of obscenities. But the love in his eyes caused all of the angry retorts to fall away, albeit briefly.
He was watching her with the same devotion and it was confusing…
"You're going to listen to me," he told her defiantly as he kept his fingers wrapped around her arm. "We can either do this here or somewhere else, BUT you are going to hear me out."
Anger flared throughout Fiona's body once more and she ripped her arm from his grip to glare up at him, daring him to come closer.
"I'm going to find a motel," she groused when she turned away from him and began to walk. "If you're coming with me, then do it."
Michael's mouth opened in a mixture of shock and surprise when she trundled away from him with a determined stride. She could be so infuriating, but at the same time her passion was what caused him to be so drawn to her side. Coming to his senses, he followed her, catching up to her pretty quickly.
"Look, I know you're angry—"
"I'm not angry, Michael," she snapped back.
"Really?" Shaking his head incredulously, he couldn't help but smile when she turned to look at him with a furious gaze.
"You think this is FUNNY?" she growled, stopping suddenly to cause him to crash into her side. Her eyes flared and she took a step closer, so they were practically nose to nose. "Yer a bastard Michael McBride."
Her breath left her body and she stepped back just as quickly and turned away from him again. Michael lunged forward and took her arm and tried to ignore the alarm bells that were ringing inside his head. She was letting him lead her, submitting to whatever place he was going to take her, and it scared him to his core.
Loosening his hold to a little more gentle grasp, he slowed down their steps and changed direction to walk her towards the dark sedan that the agency had provided for him. Even as they approached the vehicle, he was waiting for the inevitable explosion from his Irish lover and it wasn't until he opened the door that he was met with the first act of defiance.
Staring up at him, she shot him a look of irritation and waited for him to motion for her to get inside before she moved, determined to stand her ground.
"Get in," he almost ordered, softening his voice at the last possible second when she stared blankly into the empty car. "Please, Fi…"
For a moment, the softness in his voice reminded Fiona of a time a few months ago when he had pleaded with her to do as he asked. He always did know how to get her to do what he wanted by using a certain tone and she really was too tired to continue this fight. Sighing heavily, she looked at the plush interior on Michael's new car before she finally climbed inside. Placing her treasured photographs onto her lap, she jumped slightly when Michael closed the car door and leaned her head back against the headrest.
To his credit, Michael eyed her cautiously when he climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door behind him. He was already waiting for the inevitable questions about his new ride; but, to his immense surprise, she just turned to him and waited for him to say something.
"Look…Fi," he started. "I know what you're thinking and I want you to know I didn't intend to ever go back to the CIA."
"You told me that already," she told him, her voice no more than a whisper. "And I asked you to give me space."
"Yeah, you did," he nodded, holding her gaze while he fought the temptation to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I let you go with my mom—"
"Michael," she groaned out his name in exasperation. "Giving me six hours is not giving me time, it's pissing me off!"
"Okay, you're angry," he nodded. "I get that."
"Really?"
"Despite what you might think Fiona, I did this for us, all of us." Turning his eyes back onto her, he waited for her to respond with one of her stinging retorts, but was surprised to find that she was just watching him.
Her silence was unnerving and, for a moment, he wondered if he really should have just let her go off on her own. When she shifted in her seat and placed her hands over the damp photographs in her lap, he braced himself for whatever was coming.
"So, what happened with Riley?" she asked, her eyes dropping to the blurred images beneath her fingertips. "After the boat moved away, Jesse and I waited, but when we didn't hear anything from you…well, I guess you already know the rest."
"Riley…decided to come clean," he told her on a sigh, skipping over the details of the when's and where's. "She called the CIA, admitted everything from hunting us down and bringing in a drug cartel to do it."
"And then what?" she asked. "They dragged you in for questioning? Locked you up, what?"
"Fi, I killed a CIA officer. They weren't going to let that go," Reaching across the seat, he laid a hand over hers and waited for her to react against his touch, but she didn't move. "They asked a bunch of questions and kept me in a cell until they got the answers they wanted, I guess."
"How long did they keep you in a cell?" she asked him then, turning to look him in the eyes when he didn't answer. "How long, Michael?"
"I don't know," he sighed, trying to avoid her question. He knew he'd been kept in the CIA cells for a far shorter time that his friends had. But even though he'd been out to roam freely, he'd been on a mission to prove his loyalty to his country and bartered for his friend's freedom at every opportunity.
"They asked me the same questions over and over." Closing her eyes, she laid her back against the head rest again. "What did I know about Card? Did I know what Riley had done…and all the time they just wrote things down and ignored me when I asked about you."
"I'm so sorry, Fi," he told her as he squeezed her hand, and he really was sorry that after everything they'd been through together, all the sacrifices she'd made for him, it had essentially led him back into the CIA.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't just me. They had your mom, Sam and Jesse…they wouldn't answer questions about them either."
"I know you think I didn't mean what I told you in Panama…I did…but—"
"Look, Michael, I get it okay," she sighed, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. "They offered you a deal that you couldn't turn down. Despite what you told me in Panama, I do know who you are. You'll be a spy until the day you die. I shouldn't have taken your promises seriously, I know that, but you have no idea how long I waited for you to put me first…"
"I did put you first," he insisted. "You're the reason I got back in. You're the whole reason I took the deal."
His words stung as much as they did only hours ago and she had to fight the urge to scream out his name in frustration. Swallowing hard she turned to him, her mind trying to formulate some kind of reply, but she couldn't think of anything to say.
"Not like that," he gasped out when he realised what his words had implied. "I didn't do this to spend as much time as I could away from you or because I wanted to hurt you, Fi…they wanted to send you back to Ireland. What else could I do?"
"So, what's stopping them from sending me back any time they want?" she asked him. "I'm not an official asset anymore, so why?"
The apology in Michael's eyes told her everything that she needed to know and she felt the loss of her future all over again.
"So it was either work for them or they send me back," she whispered, her voice losing all of its power.
"Something like that, yeah," he nodded as he watched the sadness envelope her once more. Sitting forward he reached across the seat to encase both of her hands in his. "But is it really so bad that I'm back in, Fi?"
Fiona's heart sank when she heard his voice rise a little when he spoke. He was happy, she could hear it in his tone, and maybe she should be happy for him right now. After all he got what he wanted in the end, even at the cost of her own happiness.
"You have to do what you have to do," she nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "You have your life back, Michael. So, I guess this means I should try and salvage what's left of my reputation and get back to—"
"Uh...Fi..." he started, not sure how to tell her that she couldn't get back to the life she had. But before he could even verbalize any kind of explanation, he heard her sharp intake of breath and prepared himself for the explosion.
"No!" Shaking her head from side to side, she was torn between anger and disbelief when he tried to keep hold of her hands.
"I'm sorry." He started only to sigh in exasperation when she yanked her hands from his.
"This whole day just keeps getting better!"
"Fi…you can't—"
"I know, Michael," she groused as she laid her head back and stared up at the roof of the car. "This is just great!"
"I have money…" he started, but his voice trailed away when she suddenly stiffened in her seat and turned her head to stare at him. "Fi—"
"So, you're telling me I have nothing?" she asked lowly. "My old contacts are gone, everything that made me who I am—"
"The MI6 wanted your head on a platter, Fi," he told her urgently, his voice desperately trying to make her understand. "If they got you, then I'd never see you again. I couldn't let you go to jail for me, not again."
"How did this become so damned complicated?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper. "All I ever wanted was to be by your side…even in Ireland. I never asked you to give it all up for me; all I asked for was your time."
"Fiona…" Her name came out as a sigh and he reached across the seat once more to lay his hand on her knee and was shocked to feel the cold seeping through her clothes and over his skin. He began to rub her thigh, subconsciously trying to warm her, just like he had when he'd brought her home from prison. "I'll work on a way to get out," he promised. "Once—"
"Don't…" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she reached out to lay her hand over the handle to open the door. "Just…don't…"
Reaching down to the sodden photographs that she'd taken from the loft, she looked down at them through emotion filled eyes and scrunched them together before she clutched them against her chest and climbed back out of the car.
"Fi!" he called, opening his door and climbing out to run around to where she stood. "Look, I know this didn't happen how we'd planned it, but at least we're both free."
"No, you're free, Michael," she told him, her pulse increasing as she lifted her head to hold his gaze. "I'm not behind bars, but I'm still in a prison."
Turning her head away, she swallowed against the lump in her throat, but the sorrow that had encased her heart long before tonight found its way to her eyes once more. Why couldn't he see that by taking away everything that made her the person she was, he was slowly destroying the woman he'd known, and she worried that at the end of it all, Fiona Glenanne would no longer exist.
"I'm a Glenanne," she told him lowly, sorrow and irritation merging together to form a deadly combination. Turning her head, she fixed him with an unwavering glare and dared him to speak her name. "You once told me I should know who you are and I shouldn't ask you to be someone you can't ever be."
"I never—"
"I remember every bad thing you've ever said to me, Michael," her voice dipping even lower. "You told me I had to accept you and to hell with everything I wanted…well, what about what I want?"
Michael tried to think, his mind searching for every snippet of conversations from their past, but she was going too fast for him to keep up.
"Well, you know who I am," she challenged. "I am not going to sit around a house and do nothing. That isn't who I am!"
"You can still work," he told her quickly, reaching out for her again. "The CIA—"
"I will not work for those bastards, Michael!"
"You already do, Fi," he told her suddenly, only to regret his announcement when the light died in her eyes. "When you signed a paper to—"
"I thought you said that was taken care of," she groaned, frustration seeping into her voice. "After the last fiasco, you told me it was over."
"And I thought it was," he sighed. "But Manaro and Bailey…" His voice trailed away when he saw the realization flashing in her eyes. Not only had he signed his own fate to the CIA, but she too had been locked into the organization as well.
"Those damned idiots!"
"I'm sorry, Fi—"
"Will you stop apologizing?!" she snapped haughtily as she tried to think of what she was going to do now. He was never like this, never in their past had he ever kept pushing her, even after he'd slapped her around the face on a job that one time. She should have left him then. If O'Neil hadn't shown up and caused total chaos to reign around them, she might have succeeded. At least she could have spared both of them this heartache.
Stepping backwards, she clamped her eyes closed and turned away from him. She needed to clear her mind, but she couldn't focus, not with him hovering over her.
"I asked you to give me space," she told him when he laid a hand over her shoulder. "I need to think about what I'm going to do now."
"Fiona, you're acting like I'm leaving you…" Stepping even closer, he moulded himself to her back and wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her as close as he could. "I want you and the job…I want both…why can't I have both?"
Opening her eyes, she leaned back into his body and relished the heat that seeped into her cold limbs. He had always had everything his own way, even in this relationship. It had always been on his terms and he only allowed her to become part of his life when he wanted it and now he wanted her to be happy for him?
Taking a breath, she tried to keep her body from shaking. Because she knew if he didn't let her go, then she really would say something she'd regret. Angry words were always the hardest to take back and, despite everything he had dished out to her in the past, she wasn't going to succumb to that anger, not yet.
Pulling herself out of his grasp, she slowly turned around to face him. She tried not to love him, tried not to miss him, but her heart betrayed her, even now.
"When do you have to leave?" she asked him in a voice that sounded foreign to her own ears. "How long do we have before—"
"I'm expected to attend a debrief tomorrow," he urged as he stepped forward again to take both of her shoulders in his hands. "But after everything we've been through, they told me I'm entitled to some time off."
So…here they were again, back to square one.
Lifting her eyes to his, Fiona fixed him with a determined gaze and forced herself to pull away from him once more.
"Since we've been together, everything has been on your terms, Michael," she told him, congratulating herself on keeping her voice from breaking. "I've done everything you wanted. I've always been the one to wait behind while you go off on your CIA missions…well, now you can do something for me."
"Anything," he promised, nodding his head when he saw her eyes glistening with tears.
"You can give me time on my own. Time when I'm not stuck worrying if you're ever coming back to me…I need this." When he didn't answer, she tried saying the same words that he'd used on her, words that he had used to hurt and cut her deeply; words that would forever come back to haunt him. "And if you cared about me you would damn well want for me what I want for myself."
Michael's heart jolted inside his chest, regret and sorrow bursting out to remind him of the mess he'd left of their relationship when the only thing he wanted back then was to re-join his precious agency. Well, now he had that wish, but the only problem was he was only now just realising the price of that wish and how much it had cost him.
"Fi…" he called her name when she turned away from him, wishing he could take back those words that had etched their way into Fiona's heart. "Fiona…"
"I'll call you," she told him quietly when she turned back around to look upon him for one last time. "When I buy a phone."
"What?" he asked, his mind swimming in confusion. "You have a phone…I've been calling—"
"You friends have my phone, Michael," she sighed. "Just like they have everything else."
They still had her phone? Shaking his head, he couldn't believe that those things hadn't been returned to her. His mother had hers, so did Sam and Jesse…so…
"I'll get it back for you," he promised. "I'll make this right."
"Don't bother, Michael," she sighed tiredly as she turned away from him again and began to walk away. "I'll buy a new phone."
He watched on helplessly, torn between going after her and staying where he was. So many things about this whole situation hadn't gone the way he had planned. He was the one who pulled the trigger to end Card's life, yet the rest of his team had paid the price. He'd been offered a chance to clear his name and return to the agency with no questions asked. He'd taken their deal with the added immunity for his friends. He just hadn't thought of the consequences. If he'd have known that he would lose Fiona because of it…
Taking his phone from his jacket pocket, he punched in a number and held it to his ear before he barked out an order to keep tabs on his girlfriend. He knew she would be furious, but that was a chance he was willing to take. He'd give her space like she wanted and find out exactly why her personal belongings hadn't been returned. He owed her more than the life she had been dealt with, so much more.
000
The small motel room wasn't something she was used to, but it provided a much needed sanctuary away from Michael and everything related to their past. Everything seemed to remind her of him and she knew after she'd had time alone to process everything that had happened then she could try and make sense of it all. That's if Michael left her alone long enough to do it. So far, he wasn't giving her the space she'd ask for.
Throwing her new purchases onto the bed, she looked around the sparsely decorated room and allowed herself to breathe. The whole room was devoid of emotion, much like how she felt at the moment. There was nothing here that could cause any personal distractions barring her damaged photos, but even those blurred images of her family couldn't ease the emptiness inside her.
She couldn't help but wonder how differently her life would have turned out if she had just ignored the call that brought her to Miami six years ago. After everything Michael had done to her, after all of the rejections and hurtful words, she just couldn't purge him from her heart or mind. She wished she could move on and leave everything behind, but for some reason she couldn't let him go.
Sitting onto the bed, she pulled off her shoes and sighed in relief when she placed her bare feet down onto the soft carpet. She had been wearing the same clothes for so long that she didn't want to even look at them again after today. Pulling the gun out of her waistband, she looked down at it and couldn't help but smile when she remembered her meeting with one of her old contacts. The fear in his eyes had given her a spark of herself back; it made her remember that part of her that she had been slowly losing. If she was going to regain her strength, then this is what she needed to do to find herself again…and Danny had been just the person to show her…
Banging on the door again, she stood back and waited for Danny Barnes to open up. When there was no answer, she glowered at the wooden barrier and folded her arms across her chest impatiently before she stepped forward to pound on the painted wood again.
"OPEN UP, DANNY," she yelled, slamming her fist onto the door. "DON'T MAKE ME SHOOT—"
The door suddenly opened to reveal a sparsely dressed man hurriedly tying a cord around his robe as he blinked sleep from his eyes.
"I heard you already," he told her in a hushed voice. "What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah, I know what time it is, Danny," she grinned. "You owe me money and I've come to collect."
"What, now? Look, I know I owe you for the last gun shipment I sold for you, but last I heard you were out of town…" he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief. Grabbing at the door, he moved to push it closed again. "Come back in the morn—"
Fiona pulled the gun out from the back of her jeans and held it on him, her aim unwavering.
"No…I don't think so…I'll take it now. ALL of it."
Danny Barnes focused on the gun pointing at him, his eyes centring on the barrel. Holding his hands up, he took a backwards step inside and nodded rigidly.
"Okay…okay…yeah, you'd uh…"
"I'll come inside and wait," she told him with a satisfied grin as she slowly lowered the gun. "I'm in no hurry!"
Placing the gun on the bed, she smiled at the memory before she pulled the black vest top over her head and threw it onto the floor in disgust. Standing up again, she moved over towards the door and checked that everything was locked tight. She didn't trust anyone right now and she knew that Michael had put a tail on her again. She'd known the second she'd gone to Danny's to pick up the debt he owed her that she was being watched. Her first reaction had been to march on over to the dark car and demand that he told his boss to go to hell, but she doubted holding a CIA agent at gunpoint would do her any favours right now. So, instead she'd moved into one of the all night stores to pick up some fresh clothes and supplies, deciding to deal with her tail later.
Looking over at the bags that contained her purchases, she emptied one of them out onto the bed and plucked her favourite shampoo and shower gel out of the pile. Picking up the gun again, she regarded it for a few seconds before she made her way into the small bathroom, taking it in with her. Looking around the tiny room, she placed it on top of the toilet cistern before she placed her toiletries onto the bath edge.
The bathroom had no windows and she was struck with how the emptiness mirrored how she was feeling right now. Taking a deep breath she started to move, her joints aching as if they were lined in lead. Everything hurt, her body, her heart, her soul. No part of her remained untouched by Michael's repetitive behaviour and she was tired of it all.
Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the weeks and months ahead, knowing that the break she needed to recover from the wreck of her life was waiting for her; she needed a new line of work, something that was her own and didn't involve Michael Westen. That last thought struck an emotional chord inside her, bringing a fresh onslaught of tears to her eyes. Not working with Michael… It seemed so final, so desolate. Even though she knew she had to distance herself to repair the damage he had caused, but she couldn't stop her wavering heartache.
Sudden anger flared through her body, her inner pain rearing itself higher to spark a simmering light into a burning, angry flame. Her hands ripped at her jeans, stripping them off of her body only to throw them against bathroom wall
"Damn him," she seethed. "Damn him for making me fall in love with him."
Moving towards the bath, she inserted the plug and turned on the taps until the burning steam had started to filter around the room. Thoughts of Michael invaded her mind, determined to wreak havoc with her already crumbling defences. She pushed him away, every thought, every memory, banished from every region of her mind. Tomorrow, she would emerge from this motel as a different woman. She would erect a stronger barrier around her heart to protect her from further heartache and it was time she returned to who she used to be before love made her so soft.
Removing the rest of her clothes, she allowed the final wave of tears to overtake her body as she stepped into the hot water in the tub. The more she cried, the more hopeless she became, until every last tear had escaped her to leave her exhausted. Lying back in the tub, she closed her eyes to let the heat of the water cleanse her tired body and erase the pain that seemed endless in its torment. As fresh new tears formed inside her closed lids, she felt them leak down over her face. And for the umpteenth time since this whole nightmare began, she wished for the pain to finally come to an end and leave her alone…
TBC