A tad early on the west coast because I have a splitting headache and don't want to stay up until midnight. In any case, thanks so much for the reviews and alerts and such. I'm really happy that you guys are enjoying the story.

Chapter Four "It's Complicated"

Michael woke to sunlight coming in through the window of his childhood bedroom. Though the twin beds had been replaced with a full size, and the toys had all been packed away into the closet, it still felt the same as the last morning he woke there. He remembered it as if he were still in that moment, a 17 year old kid about to head off to boot camp, afraid of everything except the unknown.

But that was 30 years ago, and Michael had changed since then. His mom had once said he wasn't the boy who left home. Sometimes Michael wondered if that were true, or if maybe he were still that scared little kid, desperate to get away from the shadows that haunted him. But they never went away. There was always some new threat, some ghost to make his life a living hell. It never stopped.

Michael got up from the bed, and his mind instantly returned to the present. He was nothing like that scared little kid. He couldn't afford to be. As he got dressed and ready for the day, Michael began to think about how things would go from here. Today, he would see his nephew, say goodbye to his friends if they would hear him, and prepare to return to the life he always thought he wanted.

When Michael left the bedroom, he saw that his mom wasn't up yet. That wasn't a problem, since he had plenty to do that morning, and they weren't picking up Charlie until lunch. After leaving a note for his mom, Michael borrowed her car keys and headed over to Jesse's place. He thought he would start off easy.

When he answered the door, Jesse looked like he had been asleep. "I'd ask why you're up so early on a Sunday, but I don't know why I would expect any different," he said, opening the door wide enough for Michael to come inside.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Michael said. "I just didn't get a chance to explain to all of you—"

"There's nothing to explain. Not to me, anyway. You want some coffee?"

"Sure." Michael followed Jesse into the kitchen of his apartment. "But I do think I need to tell you why I took that deal after we fought so hard to get away."

Jesse pushed a few buttons on the coffee maker and turned to face Michael. "No you don't. I get it, all right? You didn't have a choice. I'm not the one you need to be explaining to."

"If there had been any other way—"

"I know. We all made sacrifices for each other. Some big ones, at times." Jesse sighed. "Everyone expects you to fix everything, and no one can live up to that. I guess it's just sad when you have to hurt the ones you love the most in order to save them. I get it."

Michael didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected so much understanding from the man who had once threatened to kill him. But things had changed with him and Jesse after they had agreed to be friends. Maybe it wasn't so strange that he understood. He was the only one who had been through the same things Michael had.

"Thank you," Michael finally said. "It means a lot that you—understand."

"It's not me you need to be worried about anyway." Jesse pulled a couple of plain white mugs from the cupboard above the counter. "Sam and Fi don't see it the same way I do." He poured the coffee, and handed a mug to Michael.

"I was hoping to talk to you about that."

"Well, sit down. It's a long story."

The two of them sat at the small kitchen table, and Jesse pushed aside some stray newspapers and magazines.

"Sorry, my maid hasn't been in," he joked.

Michael remembered how much he appreciated Jesse's sarcastic humor before. He'd never said so. "How do they see it?" he asked. "Sam and Fi?"

Jesse raised his eyebrows and took a drink of coffee. "Differently," he said. "As in, Fi is crushed because you went back to the CIA, and Sam is mad that you kept us all in the dark about it, and made decisions without our input. I can't tell you exactly how Fi feels about all this. That's something you're gonna have to find out for yourself, but I think I do understand where Sam is coming from."

"And where's that?"

"We were a team. He's big on that—teamwork. But I think it started when you shot Card. It never sat well with Sam, and everything that happened after that just kind of built on it. I'm just guessing, but I think he thinks you went too far, backed us all into a corner we couldn't get out of without extraordinary measures."

"So, he thinks it's my fault I had to make that choice in the first place? He's the one who made me promise to make it right."

"Of course he did. He's Sam. Like it or not, he's got high standards, and you've known that longer than I have. He's the moral compass, as it were, and you pretty much ignored him after Panama."

"And you think if I'd listened to Sam more, I never would have had to make that deal."

"I don't know. I just think that's how Sam sees it. He's older and more experienced than any of us, but you don't treat him that way because you're some kind of spy prodigy—and I believe that—but it wears on a friendship."

"I never wanted Sam to think I didn't need him."

"I'm not saying you had a choice in the matter. You had to make your decisions for yourself, and Sam's a big boy. He'll get over it eventually, and he might even forgive you."

Michael glanced from his cooling coffee to Jesse. "But Fiona?"

"Well, that's another beast altogether. Sam just got his feelings hurt. Fiona—like I said, she's crushed. I think she knows you didn't have a choice, but in her mind, maybe you always wanted this, and that was more important than being with her."

Michael slid the coffee mug back and forth in his hands, watching the smear it left on the tabletop. "She would have gone to prison. I couldn't—" Michael faltered. How could he tell Jesse the things he couldn't even tell himself?

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, I know. If you're gonna go talk to her, I'd say be honest. Don't try to smooth things over or make her feel better. It might be your last chance."

Michael nodded slowly. "If she doesn't shoot me first."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

Sam was next. Michael wasn't looking forward to this conversation, but after what Jesse had told him, he hoped he could make Sam understand his decisions. Michael had never been very good at teamwork, and Sam knew that. Maybe they were destined to fall apart. If it hadn't been a deal with the CIA to keep them all out of prison, it would have been something else. Maybe Michael and Sam weren't compatible friends after all.

When he arrived at Carlito's a flood of memories came back to Michael. He had spent so many good and bad times there with his friends. Sam was sitting alone at the bar with a newspaper. It looked like he had been there a while. Michael knew Sam heard him approach.

"They don't serve yogurt here," Sam said, folding the paper to the sports section.

"Yes they do," Michael said. "But I'm not hungry."

"Are you thirsty? Because I am." Sam signaled to the bartender for two more as Michael sat down beside him.

"I talked to Jesse this morning." Michael rested his arms on the bar and stared straight ahead.

"And what'd he say?" Sam still hadn't looked at Michael.

"That I ignored you and made my decisions without thinking how they would affect you."

Sam turned the page. "The Red Sox are doing well." He took a gulp of his fresh drink. "And Jesse's right. Much more insightful than I'd have given him credit for."

"Yeah. He said that I may have made the right choices as a spy, but not as a friend."

Sam finally turned his head and regarded Michael with a sympathetic expression. "Well, you always were better at being a spy than anything else. For what it's worth, you weren't such a bad friend there for a while."

Michael shook his head and took a drink. "It never lasts."

"They say nothing good ever does."

"You're really resigned to this, aren't you?"

"Mostly. You might not know this, but I did have a life before I met you, and I'm not planning on changing how I live just because you aren't in it anymore."

"You know I never wanted this. If I could go back and—"

"You can't go back, Mikey. I told you to fix things, and you did. Maybe not how I wanted, but how can I complain? And I'm glad you took the time to come down here today. You didn't have to."

"Yes I did. Sam I—I still haven't made it right. Maybe I got everyone off the hook, but things still aren't right."

"What're you gonna do? Run away? From the CIA? I hate to say it, Mike, but you're stuck. I mean, if you want this solution to stick, anyway."

"Some solution. Not one of my best."

"Hey, as far as pulling plans out of your ass goes, I'd say this one is pretty high up on the list. I don't have to like it because you're the one who has to live with it."

"It's not just me, Sam."

"No, you're right. But the rest of us get to move on. Or try."

"Somehow talking to you always makes me feel better."

"Hey, if I'd been trying to make you feel better, I'd have lied. You made your bed, Brother. Now you gotta lie in it."

"Thanks, Sam." Michael stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll miss you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Michael smiled sadly, and turned to leave. He looked back for a moment and saw Sam go back to his newspaper. "Hey, Sam?" he said.

Sam turned and raised his eyebrows.

"Thanks for the drink."

Sam smiled. "Anytime, Buddy."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

Jesse had given Michael Fiona's new address earlier that morning. He had saved her for last because he had a feeling this conversation would either be the longest or the shortest. And the most difficult. Jesse had been understanding and helpful. Sam had been resigned. Fiona on the other hand would be emotional, and rightly so. Michael couldn't compare his relationship with her to that with his friends or his mom. Fi was different and always had been.

As Michael knocked on her door, he wished he were anywhere else and at the same time, couldn't imagine himself not being here. It took a few moments for her to answer the door, and when she did there was a mix of surprise and dismay in her expression.

"Hi, Fi," Michael said, when she only stared at him.

"Michael," she replied tersely. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you. I didn't get the chance to explain before."

"What's to explain?" Fiona's voice rose an octave. "I didn't think you'd be coming back here."

"I didn't want to leave. I couldn't see any alternative."

"But you did leave, and I'm not about to—" Fiona put her hands on her head. "I can't talk to you right now."

Michael put his hand on the door to prevent her from closing it in his face. "This could be my last chance. I can't leave knowing I didn't tell you everything."

Fiona stared into his eyes. She seemed surprised, and maybe a little skeptical that he meant what he said.

"Just give me a few minutes," Michael pleaded. "That's all I'm asking."

Fiona chewed on the inside of her mouth for a moment. "Fine," she said, stepping back into the entryway. "You may have your few minutes, and then you have to leave."

Michael heard the unspoken or I'll shoot you behind her voice. He had expected as much. He tried to think of a good starting place, but nothing was coming to mind. Here he had only a few minutes left in the world with the only woman he had ever really loved, and he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Are you just going to stand there gaping at me?" Fiona crossed her arms.

"No, I—no. I just don't know where to start."

"How about why you went back to the CIA after you promised me you were done with them."

"Because you would have gone to prison if I hadn't."

"We all would have gone to prison. Is that really all you can come up with? We knew what we were getting into. You, on the other hand, sold your soul for a job."

"That is not what this is about. They would have sent you back to the UK. You would have ended up dead, Fi. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let Sam and Jesse and my mom go to jail because of what I did, but I especially couldn't lose you like that."

Fiona shook her head. "But you lost me anyway. Except in this version, I have to live with the fact that you had a choice."

"Fi, I couldn't see a way out."

"There was no way out, Michael. We were all prepared to deal with that."

"I wasn't!"

Fiona gave a defeated sigh. "You can't save everyone, Michael. You can't have everything both ways."

Michael remembered his mother's words from several months ago. She told him he was like his father in that he always wanted things both ways, and when he didn't get it, the ones closest to him suffered.

"I screwed up," Michael said. "More than anyone realizes. I just—I couldn't take everyone down with me."

Fiona wrapped her arms tighter around herself as if she had suddenly become very cold. "Your time is up," she said in a flat tone. "There's the door." She pointed.

"Fi—"

"You've explained enough. Nothing you say will ever fix this. It cannot be fixed."

There was a part of Michael, that small but powerful optimism, that would never believe that. But he only nodded and turned toward the door. As he walked out of Fiona's life forever, it didn't feel any different from the first time he left her in Ireland. Only that time, he thought he was doing the right thing. This time, he just felt like he had really screwed up so bad even he could never fix it.