A/N: And with the 100th episode, we finally got to see Michael and Fiona in Ireland, although we were screaming at the screen when "Dublin 2001" was flashed up there (see Purdy's Pal's, "Who We Once Were," Chapter 9 for an explanation as to why we were yelling). I am sticking with the timeline we worked out regarding Michael's time in Ireland based on the information given in 2.15 "Sins of Omission" and not what was flashed on the screen during 7.02 "Forget Me Not."

The full story of their mission in Derry, which was referenced in the flashbacks in 7.02, is revealed in Chapters Ten and Eleven of that same wonderful story. While you're there, stick around and have a read. It's a brilliant series on the intimate details of their early Irish relationship from Fiona's POV. I will get back to Michael's POV on that topic one day. Of course, I'm now also two weeks behind #burnerclub, but once again RL has cut into all of my writing time oh well!

This vignette covers Michael's POV during the events of 7.02 as perfectly captured by Skillet again in their song "Believe."

"Believe"

"I have a plan to fix this! I will save Fiona and the only one that will die will be Gamble!"

As he rode in silence towards the abandoned marine warehouse at the end of Deer Run Road, Michael couldn't get the picture on Sam's cell phone out of his mind… Fiona gagged and no doubt bound, managing to look both frightened and furious all at the same time. While Strong had blathered on about his precious operation and his friends had shouted the man down, because her safety was damned well more important than the spy games they were playing, that was the image that had been scorched onto his retinas, steeling his determination to save her with another grand gesture.

Too bad he hadn't been able to figure out how to do day to day life with her and prevented this whole sorry mess.

On the plane all the way from the Dominican Republic, he had gone through the intel reports and the pictures they had taken of his family and friends. Part of him was angry at the Agency was spying on them and part of him recognized how ridiculous that was. He'd recalled sitting upstairs at the loft when he thought she was going back to Ireland, thumbing through a few surveillance photos that he'd kept of her. Then he'd been willing to let her go for a chance to get back in.

Or so he'd thought until he'd put two slugs into Tom Strickler, choosing her life above his career without hesitation.

Michael couldn't help the way his thumb had brushed over her cheekbones in the image he'd held onto while in the jet, longing to put those stray strands of hair away behind her ear that were hanging in her face in the snapshot. He'd made her so many promises and he'd broken them. It hadn't always been in his control, but he'd hurt her enough times that he would be hard pressed to come up with an apology that would suffice. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try his best.

~~I'm still trying to figure out how to tell you I was wrong
I can't fill the emptiness inside since you've been gone~~

But while the enormity of trying to save her life outweighed the burden of his complicity in wrecking their relationship, Michael found himself wondering if even after he'd rescued her, because he refused to even consider the possibility that she wouldn't live through this, that perhaps he'd be too late to save them… It had been his lifeline in the DR, the hope that somehow when this was over they could be together and free of the CIA, just them like she had always wanted.

~~So is it you or is it me?
I know I said things that I didn't mean~~

But seeing Fiona come home with another man in tow had been just the onset of his misery. "Yeah, Lou's all hot and bothered about the Burgren skip. But I said we'd handle it. Right now we got a more serious situation here and that's priority." He'd recognized Carlos Cruz from the photos, but had assumed they were just working together at the time.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you all wrapped up in this." As he'd watched her embrace and then kiss the younger man, he'd recalled her parading Jon Campbell around, making sure to let him know that she was moving on, that she was giving him exactly what he'd said he wanted. But, she'd had truly been just trying to make him jealous and they both had known it. This had been different. He'd been sure she hadn't known she was being watched in her own home.

~~But you should've known me by now
You should've known me~~

"Hey, you got nothing to be sorry about. I just get pissed that you still got to deal with Michael's stuff even when he's not around." Except that man would have never gotten the chance to be around if he hadn't been forced to leave….

"Ok, I'm gonna go take a shower."

~~If you believed
When I said
I'd be better off without you
Then you never really knew me at all~~

As the Latino had laid his hand over Fiona's and then had leaned in to kiss her again, the combination of the knowledge that the guy was living in her house, because there was no way in hell it was the other way around, and the look she had given him had been a knife through his heart. All the hours he'd spent dreaming of seeing her again to see her like this?

~~If you believed
When I said
That I wouldn't be thinking about you
You thought you knew the truth but you're wrong~~

He'd belatedly realized that she was now living in old Schmidt's house, which explained how they'd gotten the cameras in there without her knowledge, but the mystery of the how, when and why of it was something that he hadn't been able to contemplate in his current state at that time. All he could see was the future he'd dreamed of slipping away.

~~You're all that I need
Just tell me that you still believe~~

The hardest part about doing surveillance on someone you know is staying objective. Work can quickly become very personal when the person you're watching… every look… every gesture… reminds you of the past. Thinking about the first time he'd seen her in the back of the Wishing Well in Dublin had him regretting all the time lost, despite the reasons he'd had back then for doing what he'd done, both good and bad, suddenly now none of them seemed reason enough.

Desperate to divert his dark thoughts, the disgraced spy glanced out of the corner of his eye at the stony face of the agent who was now driving the car he'd run off with to stop his friends from walking into an ambush. He'd been just like that once upon a time during those early days when he too had lived for the job, nothing but flag and country for him.

From the day he'd left to join the Rangers, he'd only been reminded why he'd left whenever he came back and his mom never did understand. Rayna Kopec's words returned to him then: People with happy families don't become spies. A bad childhood is the perfect background for covert ops - you don't trust anyone, you're used to getting smacked around, and you never get homesick. Another rare time where she'd let slip that they had more than love of the game in common.

"Michael, I just wanted to know if you were alive! Is that too much to ask?"

Conversations they'd had in the early days after he'd been forced to come home about why he didn't call, why he didn't write, why he didn't want her to know where he was, why he didn't want to talk about his work, all came back to him standing in that empty staircase, knowing there were directional mic's pointed at him and his frustration had exploded.

"Yes, it's too much to ask! You can't call, you can't write! You just have to wait for me to come back."

It was even worse now that he was back at the Agency involuntarily. She had no idea how much he'd wanted to let them know from the start what was going on. He had lied to them all exactly for this reason. Because he had been forbidden to let them know, this was the next best way to try to prevent exactly what he had been dealing with right then.

~~I can't undo the things that led us to this place~~

He'd gotten off the plane just in time to be informed that the surveillance team had his mom headed into the Federal Building and they had an intercept arranged there. As usual where Madeline was concerned, he was so conflicted. She could have blown his cover and the mission, as well as gotten him killed, but her actions had also gotten him to Miami.

"Michael, can I hold my son? Is that allowed?"

That tiny part of him, so small it was almost non-existent, the part that still craved his mother's concern and comfort had reveled in that hug while the rest of him scoffed internally at his foolishness. It had almost hurt more than it'd helped.

~~But I know there's something more to us than our mistakes~~

He had wanted desperately to pass a message to her, to let her and his friends know what was really going on. But he had also known he was being watched. They'd forced him to choose that stairwell for a reason. There had been a time he might have chanced passing intel to his mom, but after what had happened with Gamble, he couldn't risk it.

~~So is it you or is it me?

Glancing in the side mirror, he saw Sam and Jesse traveling in the car behind him, surrounded both front and rear by the ubiquitous black SUVs. Michael bit his bottom lip, frustrated once again that what he'd been forced to do to save his friends almost a year ago and the incompetence of the man who'd made that deal had led to what had happened today.

For just a fleeting moment, a faint smile graced his face, remembering their bickering about who was going to pay for Sam's new tires. But that was quickly followed by the frightening memory of them being pinned down blocks by a couple of gang bangers with heavy artillery behind a no-sale green Jeep SUV up on. The dark haired spy recalled the pride he'd felt when Fiona had capped one of them before being pulled back down by that guy who was going to get her killed!

~~I know I'm so blind when we don't agree~~

But they were still getting attacked from higher ground with a semi-automatic weapon and he'd had to pitch their rescue as the preservation of some valuable assets in order to get permission to save them. Strong was more worried about him being seen than them dying and again the bastard had been more than willing to let his friends take the lead… they were good enough to be used but not good enough to be read into the situation…as they had staked out Dexter Gamble's house, willing to take care of an apparently mutual enemy even in his long unexplained absence.

~~But you should've known me by now~~

And lying on that roof top at 3707 W 45th in Miami, watching what had once been his team through the scope of his welcome home gift, he'd tried to stay objective as ordered. But no matter how diligently he had worked to stay focused on that task, at some point his mind had begun to wander, thinking about all theoperations had they run as a team over the years after he'd been burned… How much he had missed working with them, hanging out with them….

That regret had been sharpened by Sam's admission that his best buddy had missed him and the longing to talk to her, to embrace her, had grown with every touch the interloper had shared with her instead of him until he found himself not looking at Fiona hiding in an azalea bush anymore… He was back in Belfast at the Black Sand sixteen years ago….

~~You should've known me~~

It had been the start of a dance that had closed the bar down, as they had moved like two halves of a whole, a dance that had ended with them snogging like a couple of teenagers in the alley instead of a pair of seasoned operatives, before better sense had overtaken what had overcome them both. He'd gone against orders contacting her directly…

~~If you believed
When I said
I'd be better off without you
Then you never really knew me at all~~

"They've lost visual on Glenanne!" The tech's words had torn him from his reverie, bringing the present sharply back into focus. Scanning the area through the scope of the AR-15, he searched desperately for some sign of her.

"Strong, what the hell is going on down there?" How could they have lost her…? She'd been right there! "Strong, what the hell is going on down there?" Panic had welled up quickly as his demands for answers had gone unmet until he had heard the words that turned his blood to ice.

"He got her. The son of a bitch took Fiona."

~~If you believed
When I said
That I wouldn't be thinking about you
You thought you knew the truth but you're wrong~~

Exiting the car, he watched the SRT van empty its contents of M249 machine guns and the men who were going to operate them. He also watched as Jesse and Sam moved towards the building, forming a barrier between himself and…

But anger was not his dominant emotion… the other was just an annoying distraction and he didn't need any of those at the moment. He had enough self-recrimination and guilt to deal with as it was. Staring at the burned out hulk of the Ford F150 blazing away on an empty street near multiple fenced off empty lots had left him with that same sick gut clenching feeling he'd had on the street outside Derek Poole's house, surrounded by fireman and desperate to find Fi.

~~You're all that I need
Just tell me that you still believe~~

"It's empty, no bodies. That's a good thing." The man's callousness had known no bounds. Shrugging Strong had continued. "If he wanted Glenanne dead, she'd be in that truck." Michael could barely contain his wrath and his handler had been too dumb to know when to back off, following him as he'd turned away. "You got something to say to me?"

He'd had plenty to say to that jackass! "She shouldn't have been alone in that alley. If you had listened to me…"

"Now's not the time to point fingers, we've got a job to do." And then he'd lost it, he'd been both frantic and furious.

"Don't tell me about the job! These are my friends, my family!" He'd slammed Strong up against the cruiser with his both hands clutching his labels, stopping himself from breaking his neck if nothing else. The CIA officer's obsession with Randall Burke and his network had caused this mess and the bastard hadn't cared who got hurt along the way.

Agent Strong had cursed at him and then he'd released him, as the voice in his head that so often sounded like Larry lately had cautioned him: Careful, kid, watch that temper of yours, not in front of witnesses. You're better than that.

"You think blaming me is gonna help anything?"

"I don't blame you, I blame myself for listening to you!" Michael had tried to walk away again, but the Company man had followed along, lecturing him about the realities of the situation, the best way to help her was to finish the job…

Nothing he hadn't heard a million times, nothing he hadn't said himself to someone else a million times over too. Was it really Strong's fault or had it been his own obsessiveness with getting back in all those years that was responsible? But the only thing he'd seen was the burned out car and the only thing he knew was that saving Fiona wasn't a job...

Michael turned as Strong walked past him to speak to the SRT commander about their little change of plans for the assault and he was reminded again that although he had always been better about minimizing the collateral damage than anyone else he knew at the Agency, there had been plenty of people hurt by what he'd done over the years.

"You're using my friends as bait!" They were assets to Strong, a means to an end, but they were the people he cared about the most. There were a reasons spies only had assets and liabilities in their lives, targets and mission objectives…

"We'll do what he can to keep your friends safe, Michael. We got a job to do here."

But since he'd already let his friends walk into one ambush today, since he'd already let Fiona get kidnapped while he'd sat his ass on a rooftop following orders, there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen to Sam and Jesse.

~~ So is it you or is it me?~~

And the looks on his friends' face when he'd gotten out of that stolen Company car, when he'd had to admit he was there with the CIA shadowing their investigation, spying on them instead of working with them, were far worse than the momentary sting of a sucker punch he probably deserved, although not from the man who'd actually delivered it.

"Nine months, Mike… Not one call, not one letter, nothing. This…? This is how I find out my best friend is alive?"

"This is not how I wanted to do this…"

~~I know I said things that I didn't mean~~

None of this was the way he wanted it. Having to endure Strong's blustering idiocy was one thing, letting him get Fiona, his friends and probably half of a Special Response Team killed was another. He had missed working with his friends, being with his friends, although he knew the two men understood better than the women in his life had, it still hurt.

~~But you should've known me by now~~

As he donned the body armor, after directing the SRT to its positions and speaking quietly with Sam, reassured that his best friend found his strategy as sound a one as available for their present circumstances, his thoughts fell back on his first job with her, the first time she had trusted him with assignment for the cause: a trip to Derry to pick up guns for the Real IRA. But her mission had actually been one for the Provo… to make sure that the weapons delivered to radical offshoot group would fail. And it had also been the first they'd made love while unaccompanied on that road trip.

It was also the first time he'd realized that they were on the same side and, though he had later discovered later the incredible irony that Fiona had thought she was the spy deceiving him, an ordinary guy from Kilkenny, which had come in very useful while he'd tried to explain himself when she'd discovered he was the spy. Michael touched the spot over his heart where the beer bottle she'd flung at him when she'd confronted him had landed and broken, leaving him cut and scarred in more ways than one. All in all he'd been lucky she hadn't just shot him and disposed of his body.

~~You should've known me~~

Now that same organ was threatening to cleave in two inside his chest at the thought that he even though he would save her today, he had already lost her. But Michael Westen was nothing if not an optimist under all his cynicism.

"Alright, Westen, it's your show. We do it your way this time. Make it count."

Was he about to get her killed now while trying to rescue her? Could he really be sure that she was going to be able to execute his plan? What if she was tied up somewhere that she couldn't drop to the floor? What if Gamble used her as a human shield? The ache of her potential loss spurned his determination. No, Fiona would not die today. She couldn't.

~~If you believed
When I said
I'd be better off without you~~

He was so focused on watching the door, his casual stance belaying all the tension in his body while waiting to see her emerge whole and unharmed. The rest of the response team had swept into the building to clear it before he'd even gotten himself up off the concrete and he'd heard the shouts that she was alive, she was fine, so he'd held his ground.

The tactical part of his brain knew there was a potential threat behind, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered to him was coming out, relieved smile lighting up her whole countenance and she had never looked more beautiful.

And he had never felt more devastated in his entire life than when those slim hands, that had struck him but also had touched him with such tenderness, wrapped themselves around the another man's face, that those arms that had held him close where around that other man's neck and that mouth was pressed to someone else's, kissing him passionately.

~~Then you never really knew me at all~~

He picked her up in his embrace, turning her so that her back was to him… he had turned her back on himhis fingers were threading through her long auburn locks… Michael was frozen, unable to blink, unable to swallow, unable to think.

"There he is the man of the hour. That was one balls-out crazy move but you made it work." Strong was beaming, his unspoken glee for the return of the old Michael Westen evident in his voice as he slipped on his sunglasses. "Let's get down to the DR and finish this operation." As if there was anything he wanted more than to be done with this mess.

Fiona buried her face in the younger man's shoulder, as she had once with him in a dingy Belfast bar a lifetime ago, refusing to look at him. As the senior field agent went past him, the other man finally looked at him, equal parts gratitude and grimace on his face. Michael couldn't watch any more. He turned slowly and walked away.

~~If you believed
When I said
That I wouldn't be thinking about you~~
You thought you knew the truth but you're wrong~~

The conversation with Jesse and Sam had gone marginally better, though it would have been hard for it to have gone worse. Jesse's request that he just skip the bugs and pick up a phone next time before they were knee deep in a suicide mission again was a reasonable one. Sam was understandably upset about the level of surveillance that was on him, but as a former undercover man himself at least understood it in principle, though neither of them was really thrilled.

"For what it's worth, I had orders."

"Yea well in this situation,'I had orders' doesn't really cut it, buddy."

"I'm sorry," and he was, more so than they would ever know, that he had hurt the people that he cared the most about.

"Look, we're just glad that you're okay. And Mike, we know you can't tell us the whole story. But we've seen enough of the board to know that you're into something pretty heavy. So, if you need a hand, let us know."

And it had been an enormous relief to know that at least Jesse and Sam forgave him. If they could forgive him…

~~Cuz you're all that I want
Don't you even know me at all?~~

The paramedic had just finished binding up her arm when he approached her. When she turned and saw him, Fiona started for just a moment before regaining her composure. It made him smile inside for just a second that he had managed to sneak up on her, but only for a second.

"Hello, Michael…" He could see the kaleidoscope of conflicted emotions in those beautiful blue-green eyes that he could lose himself in for the rest of his life if she'd let him.

"You okay?"

"It's just a few stitches... the glass in the windows. It could have been worse."

That she was obviously struggling was exactly what he needed to see. She had just been letting him know how much he'd hurt her before. He could accept that. He certainly had earned it. Her forgiveness usually involved some pain…

"You remembered my story…"

"I'd never forget it."

She smiled at him, a tiny thing, but a little sparks light big fires. She was breathing heavily, caught between moving towards him and retreating and he knew she was conflicted, torn, which meant she still cared, and if she still cared…

"Fi…" He didn't know if she would punch his lights out or fall into his arms and he would take either at that moment.

But she did neither. A quick glance at the ground and she was moving towards him, a light hand on his arms, a light brush of her lips to his cheek, a light whisper into his ear…

"Take care…"

And she slipped by him, leaving him frozen to the spot, stuck in a fog of memory as she walked away.

"Who's tha girl?"

He'd already known who she was; he'd just wanted to hear O'Dowd confirm what he already knew. His first handler back in Ireland, masquerading as a bartending at the Wishing Well which had been their designated method of contact, had been keen to discourage his interest in her, telling him she was already taken, wanting to remind him that Sean Gleanne was the asset he was supposed to be cultivating and not his little sister. But he'd refused to be diswayed.

"Taken? You see thot? Thot's tha kiss you give when tis over.

He knew perfectly well that she'd been listening to the conversation between himself and O'Dowd all those years in that smoky Dublin pub before she'd brushed passed that man by the door like she'd brushed past him just now and had heard what's he'd said and, though he wished to God he didn't, he knew exactly what that kiss had been meant to convey. Michael turned slowly and watched her walk away, knowing that she fully intended to walk out of his life too.

~~You're all that I need
Just tell me that you still believe~~