A/N: Welcome back to the next chapter of Season Seven Songbook, where we continue to fill in the gaps in and in between the episodes. Upcoming stories from my brilliant writing partner, Purdy's Pal, will dovetail (cuz we just can't stop collaborating and coordinating ~ LOL) with these chapters, covering this same timeframe in updates to "The Old Michael Westen," "Blackbird Song" and "Pale Imitation."
So again, this is all Matt Nix's utterly wonderful creation and I don't own any of it. Likewise, I don't own "Going Under" by Evanescence and only dream about having Amy Lee's pipes! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited Chapter One. I hope to get all these 'prequels' to 701 out this week.
This story follows after the events detailed in "While Michael Sleeps" Chapter 8, which was also written prior to the S7 premiere as a lyrically enhanced story attempting to show what was going on in Fiona's head before she saw Michael and hopefully explains some of her mental state. It starts at the ending of 6.18 "Game Change" and covers some of the time before Fiona's "new life, new house, new man…"
"Going Under"
Three weeks of waiting and wondering...
There he is at last…
She's going to break that bastard's arm if he doesn't let go of her in the next two seconds.
But Michael nods and she runs to him, throwing her arms around him like she had the day she got out of Allarod and she hears him whisper "Give us a moment…"
And just like their reunion at the prison, she can feel something is wrong, sense that there's a tragedy as horrific as Nate Westen's death waiting to be dropped in her lap as they check on everyone's condition.
"They'll be released shortly. I just wanted to talk to you first."
The chill runs down her spine. He says he's been interrogated? He doesn't look it. It's the tight pinched look in his eyes that he always gets when he's about to deliver bad news that holds her attention.
"What's going on?"
He won't answer her… and ice water is running through her veins because all her blood is starting to roar in her ears. And he does it… first biting his lip, then that tilt of the head that means 'please, Fi…'She reminds him of what he promised her. She'd begged him not to say it if he didn't mean it.
"I needed to protect you. I needed to protect all of us."
She knows what he's done. Maybe not the details, but she knows what it means. But she has to ask.
"Michael, what have you done?"
And he's explaining and she's listening for some hint of what's really going on. There has to be one. It can't be what it looks like…taking helicopter rides and ordering CIA agents about, it can't be that…
"So I made a deal." Her heart is racing now and then he starts to say it. The words that she hates the most, his reason, his damned excuse for every bad, hurtful thing he's ever done to her or anyone else.
"I did what I—"
"What you had to do. No, Michael, you did what you wanted to do."
~~Now I will tell you what I've done for you~~
The last six years of her life rewind in a blur through tear filled eyes. He's back in. What he always said he wanted... It doesn't matter why he made the deal, he made it. He can't stop dancing with the devil…
He's reaching for her. It's clear on his face that he realizes his mistake. She's not having it.
~~Fifty thousand tears I've cried~~
"No!" she gasps, jerking away from him… "No…" everything she's sacrificed for him…"No…" all the months, the years… "No…" how long does he expect her to wait this time while he does what he has to do?
~~Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you~~-
And she's crying, losing it like she hasn't in years, eyes closed, body shaking, remembering his promises...
~~And you still won't hear me (going under)~~
She looks up at him through watery eyes, her hand clamped over her mouth because she's not going to give them any more satisfaction from her agony. She can't look at him, can't stay here one more second…
She's flying towards the door. The idiot who'd escorted her from her cell is stupid enough to get in her way. He's on the floor, curled in a ball, in three moves. She sees them raising their weapons and she charges ahead because dying in a hail of lead cannot possibly feel any worse than the pain that's coursing through every cell in her body. She hears Michael yelling for them to stand down. She couldn't care less.
~~Don't want your hand this time - I'll save myself!~~
But she can't find the exit in this fecking maze fram tha pit o' hell itself, cursing every one o' tha bastids though none dare get in her way. She's doubled back, maybe tripled back now, when she sees Sam with Maddie and Jesse close behind. He's got his hands up, trying to talk her down. She doesn't want it to, but it works. She follows him into a large room with a big table covered with stacks of paperwork.
~~Maybe I'll wake up for once (wake up for once)~~
She doesn't look at what she's signing, what damned difference does it make? They'll do whatever the hell they want anyway. She doesn't hear them droning at her about what she can and can't do. But she's breathing heavy like she's run a marathon and her friends are looking at her with worried eyes. Too bad…!
~~Not tormented daily defeated by you~~
She loves them, but she can't be around them another second. She can't stand anything that reminds her…of him! She sits in the back of the cargo plane, eyes closed, refusing to think about the plane that got them out of Panama, refusing to think about anything that happened since they'd returned from that country, but oddly enough thinking about Brady Pressman's sacrifice helps, though she doesn't know why.
~~Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom~~
Their vehicles are there, waiting for them on the tarmac where they'd parked them afterthey'd boarded that damned CIA black flight. She's sees the Charger sitting there. The sick look she knows is on her face says it all. Sam tosses her the keys to his Cadillac and she's gone in a white cloud of burning rubber.
~~I'm dying again~~
She's lying on the cot she keeps in her private stash house out in the Everglades. She's safer here than almost anywhere in the world. It's her secret place, the place no one knows about, not even him. She's roaring drunk again and the room is spinning, but it still hasn't silenced that damned voice in her head.
"If this job goes well, if we can show them how well we work together…"
~~I'm going under (going under)~~
"When this is all over, maybe we could work together again…"
~~Drowning in you (drowning in you)~~
"But we are so close to wrapping this up and then I can move on…"
~~I'm falling forever (falling forever)~~
"It's a new job, Fi, but it's not a new life. I like my life and I want to live it with you."
~~I've got to break through~~
"I am not losing you, Fi, not after all this…"
~~I'm going under~~
"I need a rest as much as you do, Fi…"
It's been a week, maybe? She's not sure, time has run together and everything is a blue or a red tinged blur depending on if its daylight or dark. She remembers putting loads of extra 56.5x45mm ventilation holes into a rusting derelict Port-a-Let with a lovely piece of automatic weaponry she can no longer sell thanks ta tha C. I. fecking A. and wishing it was something else in her sights. There've been explosions, beautiful fireballs incinerating abandoned half sunken airboats and nuisance vegetation. It hasn't helped.
"After I get Grey, I'll leave. I'm out."
~~Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies~~
"Did I make ya happy then?"
"Yes, luv, ya did… Ya made me happier than I've ever been in me entire life."
~~ (So I don't know what's real)~~
"I may not be who I said I was, but I told you the truth about why I was here, Fi, what my mission was. We're after the same thing… and it doesn't change the way I feel about you…"
~~So I don't know what's real and what's not~~
"Fi, when you were talking about Ireland earlier, I hope you know I miss that time too."
~~(don't know what's real and what's not)~~
She's crying again, tears running down her face, huge gasping sobs that rack her aching body until her heaving stomach settles the matter and she's on her hands and knees over the same strategically placed little round trash can, grateful for a stupid bin liner, before she collapses onto the hard wood of the floor.
~~Always confusing the thoughts in my head~~
Was it all a lie? Every tender touch, every lingering kiss, every soft smile… She can still feel it… still feel him stroking his hand over her face, feel his large palm cradling her cheek, his knuckles gently brushing-
~~So I can't trust myself anymore~~
No, it was far worse than that. Michael loved her, he really did love her… She knew he did though he'd never been able to say to her directly. The way he held her, the way he made love to her, body and soul.
"I need to you, Fi…"
"Safe at home…"
Michael loved her and he was still able to leave her behind and go back to the bastards who had ruined all their lives! She sees him in her head again…that damned vision that won't go away… Him there in his fancy black suit, more dressed up than she's seen him outside of a funeral or for a job… He never wears a tie unless he's going to lie or somebody's died…Now, she knows what she was feeling as she'd clung to him and why she felt like had…
~~I'm dying again~~
"I couldn't leave you in there forever. They weren't just gonna forget everything that happened and release you…So, I made a deal…"
~~I'm going under (going under)~~
"Forgive? Me? Forgive me for pulling every single string at the agency to get you out of here or is this still about Ireland? Because if it is, let me straighten you out on that score. Michael's cover was about to be blown. He wouldn't leave…you. Forget about the fact that if he stayed, you'd both be dead right now or worse and would you… would ya like to venture a guess just exactly who dropped everything and flew halfway around the world to make sure that didn't happen?"
~~Drowning in you (drowning in you)~~
Is that what was really going on here? Was he being manipulated by CIA again? If he was, why didn't he let her know? They had a code word fer every fecking thing in the bloody IRA… He could nae come up wit' sommit better than I fecking did whot I fecking hadda do? Did it matter if he wa'? Even if he wa' being forced ta do thar bidding, did it really matter? He wa' nae ever gonna be free o' tham until he wa' dead…
~~I'm falling forever (falling forever)~~
And once the bawling stopped over the thought of his death, torn between anger and anguish, feeling like she had all those years when she hadn't known if he was dead or alive, she finally came around to asking the more important question: what was she going to do now? She had nothing left and nowhere to go.
~~I've got to break through~~
Everything she hadn't lost when Jesse had blown up her new place had been lost when he'd forced her to burn the loft…and it wa' all fer fecking nothin'… she'd lost every fecking thing fer nothin' and now…
~~I'm...~~
She felt bad for scaring Elsa… well, she did now anyway… at the time, when she'd crawled out of the Everglades looking and smelling pretty much like a creature from the black lagoon, if it had been playing with gun powder and C-4 that is, she hadn't given a damn about much of anything. It had only been for Sam's sake… well, that wasn't true either… She'd gone through her stash of fresh water and booze and her nocturnal activities were starting to attract unwanted attention and she really need to conserve stock.
It wasn't like she was going to be able to lay her hands on anything to replace the ammo and explosives she'd used up to assuage her burning rage any time soon thanks ta tha bastids in thar fancy black suits….
When she'd finally made contact, Sam had thanked her for not wrecking the Caddie and begged her to come back to the hotel long enough for the CIA to know she hadn't skipped town, reminding her that the things she'd signed said she couldn't leave Miami. She knew they would take it out on the rest of them.
But that didn't mean she had to make it easier on the suits and sunglasses crowd to keep track of her.
~~So go on and scream
Scream at me. I'm so far away (so far away)~~
But that also meant she wasn't making it any easier for Michael to contact her either. She was living off the grid, hiding out in the shadier parts of Miami, of which there were plenty, moving from place to place, not staying in one spot very long. She usually ended up hurting someone bad rather badly to protect someone innocent and usually that was when it was time to move on before she attracted police attention.
~~I won't be broken again (again)~~
Not that she really expected him to get word to her directly. She was waiting for some sign somewhere.
It was easy to keep checking all their marker spots and rally points without being spotted since she had no home base to speak of, so they had nowhere to tail her from, and she kept checking in with Sam…
~~I've got to breathe - I can't keep going under~~
But as the months dragged on, no word, not a whisper, no sign, nor a signal, she became enraged all over again, angry at him, infuriated with the Agency, but most of all furious with herself for daring to hope.
~~I'm dying again~~
He haunts her dreams at night, touching her, holding her, making love to her, promising her… and leaving her cold and alone every morning, abandoned all over again just like that frosty spring morning in Dublin…
~~I'm going under (going under)
Drowning in you (drowning in you)~~
She must have looked really bad. She didn't know what was worse, the fear or the sympathy in the older man's expression. But she was almost out of money and she needed to start over. She requires a permanent address to give to the local bail bondsman, one she's worked for in the past. Time to see if that BS the CIA said about clearing their criminal records is true. She needs somewhere safer to stay than where she'd been holing up and a car to drive that she hasn't stolen until she can buy her own stuff.
~~I'm falling forever (falling forever)
I've got to break through~~
It's not the fanciest place she's ever stayed, but little condo they've lent her is nice and it's clean and there's not a single thing in it that reminds her at all of her old life and that fact alone makes it good.
The mattress is almost too soft, she thinks as she's lying there staying at the ceiling. Compared to all the places she's been sleeping lately… well, sort of sleeping… compared to her cot at Allarod, compared to—
She snatches that memory and squeezes the life out of it. She might not be able to stop him from invading her rest, but she'll be damned if she'll willing give Michael Westen one more conscious thought.
~~I'm going under (going under)
I'm going under (drowning in you)~~
There was only one way to banish his ghost…. It worked after Dublin, it worked all those years in between Dublin and Miami, it worked all the times he'd pushed her away, shut her out in Miami and it would again.
~~I'm going under~~
Because it has to…
