Was trying to work on my Psych fanfic, when I had a sudden stroke of inspiration and had to switch gears. So I now bring you Chapter 4!
Big hugs to everyone who has read and reviewed! Unless you feel that's an invasion of your personal space, in which case you'll just have to settle for a virtual yogurt ;)
Disclaimer: I do own my cats. I do not own Burn Notice, (or any of the characters associated) Hungarian goose-down Duvets, FBI, etc. etc.
Fiona woke with a start from a nightmare that she didn't even want to think about again. She knew she should get up, stretch her muscles, or do something productive. But instead, she remained where she was, lying on her back with her hands crossed on her stomach. She smiled to herself as she relived one of her favorite days with Michael.
It was about two weeks after Michael has asked her to move in with him. She woke early in the morning, and stretched her arm out, blindly seeking Michael's warm body. Her eyes snapped open when she found nothing, and she sat up. Across the loft, Michael was sitting at his work bench, desperately flipping through pages and pages of files. Fiona sighed and got out of bed, walking behind Michael and wrapping her arms around his neck. Michael spared her a glance before looking back at his file.
"You know, reading that through for the umpteenth time isn't going to reveal anything." Fiona whispered in his ear.
"I know Fi, but look at this." He held up a piece of paper so she could see. "On the day I was burned, $50,000 was transferred from the account of one of the people who burned me, but I can't figure out who the money went to." He flipped through the file, as if hoping the paper that held the answers would jump out at him."
"And obsessing over it isn't going to tell you." Fiona took the paper out of his hand and put it in the file. Michael tried to open the file again, but Fiona walked around him and sat down on it. "You have other things you could be focusing on."
Michael stretched his head up to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Fiona suddenly broke away and jumped off the counter. She walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of swim trunks.
"Here, get dressed." She said, tossing them at him.
Michael stared uncomprehendingly at the swim suit in his hands. "Trunks?" he said questioningly. "Are we going to meet a client?"
"Nope." Fiona responded, putting on her own swim suit.
"Are we… going to Seymour's?" He said, as much as the idea annoyed him.
"No. We're going to the beach."
"The beach, Fi?" Michael said incredulously. "Why?"
"Because, we have nothing to do today, so we are going to act like normal people in Miami. And normal people in Miami go to the beach." She finished changing and turned to see Michael still holding his trunks, his position unchanged. "If you don't put that suit on right now, I'm going to put it on for you."
"That doesn't sound too bad." He said, smiling at her.
Fiona smiled and rolled her eyes as Michael started changing. Fiona went to the closet and pulled out a bag, and proceeded to fill it with towels, water, and a pair of pistols.
"So normal people bring guns with them to a day at the beach?"
"They should." She walked over and handed him the tube of sunscreen. "Do my back?"
When they got to the beach, they both laid down their towels on the hot sand and sat down. Fiona leaned back and turned her face up towards the sun, but Michael was sitting up straight, scanning the area as if he thought one of the sunbathers had a gun. When Fiona saw what he was doing, she gave a small sigh and crawled over to him, and onto his lap.
"Michael." She said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "The people who burned you are either in jail, or in the morgue. It's not like they're going to crawl up out of the sand."
Michael wrapped his arms around her. "I know Fi. It just… it just doesn't feel like it's over. Not yet."
"Well it is." She responded.
She slithered off his lap and took his hand, leading him out to the water. He stood at the very edge as she waded in and let the lovely, cool water splash around her sides. When Michael had turned his head to look at the people surrounding them, Fiona took the opportunity to throw a handful of water in his face. Michael pretended to look angry, started to walk towards her. She turned to run away, but a wave came and knocked her backwards, right into him. He picked her up and spun her around, until another wave came and knocked them both over. They landed in the sand, arms still around each other, and in the moment, everything had seemed perfect. Michael was free of the people who burned him, he was getting back the job he dreamed about having for years, and they were finally together, with nothing to come in between them.
Fiona was so lost in her memories, that she didn't even hear the door to her cell slide open. It took the sound of something being dropped on the floor to bring her to her senses.
Fiona sat up slightly, then bounded off the bed and over to Michael, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a long kiss.
Michael was slightly thrown off guard by Fiona's attitude, as she generally never acted like this, but he figured it must be a side effect of being locked in FBI prison for almost a month. When they broke apart, Fiona looked slightly embarrassed of her actions, and turned to go sit on her bed, looking down at her hands.
"Glad to see you earned yourself another visit." She said, still studying her fingers.
"Me too. " Michael responded, crossing his arms. "Pearce and I had to sit-" But he broke off as he saw Fiona give him an annoyed look.
"I don't want to let Anson intrude in every moment we have together." She looked over and saw the bag that he had dropped at his feet. "What's in the duffle?" She inquired.
Michael bent down to retrieve it then walked over and sat down next to her before handing over the bag. She opened it and smiled as she saw her 800 thread-count sheets, and her Hungarian goose-down Duvet. She pulled the comforter out of the bag, and spread it over both of them. They sat together in silence for a while, his arm wrapped around her, with her head resting on his shoulder. They both remembered their quiet days at the loft, when the rain was coming down in relentless sheets, and they lay huddled in their bed, savoring the time they had together without other people's issues interrupting them.
"So, what did you find out about Anson?" Fiona asked.
Michael turned his head to look at her. "What happened to not wanting him to intrude?"
"You know I'm indecisive. Just tell me."
Michael gave her a small smile. "A FBI file clerk, Daniel Grankins was paid $10,000 to drive Anson's car to a coffee shop every day." Michael sighed. "It was just some stupid trick of Anson's. To distract us while he's off doing who-knows-what. Sam and Jesse are tracking down the person behind the account now."
"I see…" Fiona said slowly "You know Michael, I have a fabulous selection of sniper rifles. A couple of bullets in the back of Anson's head seems much easier than tracking down a mysterious person hiding behind an unknown account."
"Well apart from the fact that the agency would most likely have my head if I did that, it's pretty hard to shoot a man if you have no inkling of where he is."
"Hey hey hey, no excuses!" She wiggled into a more comfortable position. "So who is the mystery man behind the money?"
"Some guy named Jacob Martin. Were still trying to figure out who he is."
"Jacob Martin? I've heard that name before." She had Michael's full attention now. "His name came up at some point while we were looking into Simon."
"And you didn't think to mention this?" Michael said incredulously.
Fiona shrugged. "It wasn't relevant at the time. He was just some guy that Simon had come into contact with."
"Well I guess I'll have to pay Simon a visit. Provided he and Vaughn haven't killed each other yet."
"You're leaving now?" Fiona said, not fully managing to conceal the sadness in her voice.
Michael looked down at his girlfriend, and leaned closer to her. "No, I have something more important to be doing right now." He said, his words slightly muffled by her hair.
Michael dialed Pearce's number the second he got was outside the prison.
"Michael." She said, picking up after three rings. " Did you guys find out anything about Martin?"
"Not yet, but we may have a way to. I need to meet with Simon Escher."
"Westen, why can't you ask me for a simple favor? Like borrowing $20, or getting an ex-girlfriend off your back."
"Because I don't need any money and I've only ever had two girlfriends to speak of. Please Pearce."
"Why exactly do you feel the sudden need to speak with a high security prisoner?" Pearce asked.
"Fiona remembered hearing his name when we were first looking into Simon. He was someone that Simon as trying to talk to. If Simon can tell us about him, it may help us find Anson's whereabouts."
Agent Pearce sighed. "Alright, I'll make a few calls. But it will probably take a couple of days. In the mean time, call your friends, see what their investigation has turned up. And don't think you're getting out of doing paperwork!" She shouted as he hung up.
Michael then pressed speed-dial five and called Sam.
"Hey Mikey, I was hoping you'd call. You'd call. You learn anything new about Jacob?"
"Yeah, Fi says he's somehow connected to Simon." Michael heard Sam snort at the mention of him. "Pearce is working on getting me a meeting with him now. How's it going on your side?"
"Well, we were at the bank where the money was set up, but the bank manager is a 65 year old guy, so there's no hope for me charming their security tapes from them. You could ask Pearce to work some magic, but I think that going the legal way will take some time, time that we don't really have." Sam replied
"I'm assuming you have an alternative suggestion?" Michael said, though he already had an idea of where Sam might be going with this.
"Well, Jesse and I followed him for a while, turns out he goes to a lot of those speed-dating things. I thought maybe a woman around his age might be able to loosen him up a little."
"Sam, if your suggesting my mother-"
"I believe at this point you suggested it brother." Sam said cockily
Michael groaned. "I don't want her involved in Anson's plans Sam."
"Fine." Sam said, sounding irritated. "You can go find us another 60-something year old woman that we can trust to get us answers to help get your girlfriend out of prison."
"Alright, alright." Michael said. "I'll call her and-"
"Already did Mikey. But she's, uh- not too happy about you leaving her in the dark about all this Anson crap. You're gonna need to go talk to her before she'll be willing to do any favors for us.
Michael glanced at his watch. He had been hoping to go over his files again tonight, in hope that they might have missed something, but that would have to wait. "On my way."
Michael quietly walked into his mother's house, oscilloscope in hand, running it over every inch of his mother's kitchen. He was hoping that she was in bed, or somewhere she couldn't see him, so he could have a couple of minutes to check the house for bugs. But he had no such luck, as he saw his mother sitting at her kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her, and a cigarette at her lips.
"Michael!" She said when she saw him. "So glad to see that you haven't forgotten where I live!" She then saw the oscilloscope in his hand. "What the hell is that?"
"Just a laptop Ma." If there really were bugs in the house, Michael didn't want Anson to know that he was looking for them.
Madeline didn't say anything as Michael slowly walked through her house, running his fancy bug-tracker over ever surface. He was just about to conclude that Anson hadn't bothered with his mother's house, when the oscilloscope started beeping. Under the middle of the table, there was a small listening device, concealed under a piece of wood that was peeling off the table. Michael ripped the bug off, walked to the bathroom, and flushed it down the toilet.
Michael then walked back to the table and sat down next to his mother. "So Mom, you got a call from Sam?"
"Yes, I did." She took a drag on her cigarette. "He said you need help with a job?"
"Well, kinda. Were trying to get some security tapes out of a bank manager, but so far he hasn't been very helpful. We thought a beautiful woman like yourself might get him to loosen up." Michael smiled hopefully at her.
Madeline responded by blowing a mouthful of smoke in his facing, causing him to cough and bat it away. "You don't need to try to flatter me Michael; I'll help you with the job."
"Thanks Ma."Michael said, starting to get up from the table.
"But." Madeline said, reaching over and grabbing his hand, forcing him to sit back down. "Not until you tell me what this is all about."
Michael looked down at his hands. "It's complicated…" he started.
"Well, I guess you're going to just have to tell me, since I don't plan on helping you until you do." She took a sip from her coffee and looked expectantly at Michael.
Michael was hoping that he could just give her a general piece of info to avoid having to tell her the long story; that was still slightly painful for him to think about. "Well, we're looking for info the get Fi out of prison."
Madeline glared at him. "I know that much, Michael, and I've been involved in your life long enough to know that there's a lot more going on here."
Michael sighed and resigned himself to telling her the whole story, or at least the gist of it.
Couldn't resist adding a little Mike & Fi fluff :) Thank you guys so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think! (That's a beating-around-the-bush way to say Please Review! ;] )