Thanks to my beta reader, Riter's Fury for helping me fix a few things in this chapter, and to all you readers out there. I hope you like what's to come.

Chapter Seven "Getting the Band Back Together"

After arriving at Madeline's house with Charlie, Jesse called Sam. He knew the oldest member of the team would be more likely to agree to help, and he could then do the job of convincing Fiona. For some reason, she listened to Sam. It was starting to weird Jesse out.

After letting the phone go to voicemail three times, Sam finally answered. "What do you want?"

"Whoa, there," Jesse replied. "Why you dodging me?"

"Because it's Sunday, and I'm planning on taking Elsa to dinner, and when you call, it usually means a job."

"Not exactly."

"Exactly. What does that mean?"

"Ruth's been murdered, and Riley's on the loose."

"Why do I answer the phone?" Sam sighed. "Where's Mike?"

"Going back to Dani's office. I guess the CIA wants him tracking Riley down. He asked me to look into Ruth's death, but I'm car-less right now."

"Does he think they're connected?"

"He didn't say that in so many words, but it could very well be. So can I get some help here, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah. What about Charlie? He okay?"

"Define 'okay.' He's here at Maddie's house. They're both shook up, I think maybe someone should stay with them."

"Someone? I take it you want me to call that someone?"

"She listens to you."

"Don't tell her that. You know she's not exactly a big Westen fan right now?"

"I know. But she and Maddie were close, and there's a kid involved. If you ask her, she'll come. Mike's gonna be busy with finding Riley, I doubt if he'll be around much."

"Fine, Jesse. You twisted my arm. I'll call Fi and head over there now. If Riley's out, chances are she's coming after all of us."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

Olivia Riley had disappeared in a hail of bullets and some kind of airborne sedative on a little used road between a secret holding facility and the airport. The driver of the armored van and three guards were dead. That confused Michael a bit. Why bother with the sedative if you just planned on killing them all anyway? According to a preliminary report from the coroner's office, the four men had definitely been unconscious when they were killed.

After gathering all this information from Dani's office, the two of them had traveled out to the scene of the attack. CIA investigators had been poking around since the night before, and much of the work had already been done. Michael still wanted to make his own judgments rather than trust people who were being paid to do it for him. He knew he had gotten into a bad habit of doing everything for himself because he could never be sure when someone was lying to him. It might have been unreasonable in this instance, but he didn't put anything past these people anymore.

Dani seemed to understand Michael's need to see things for himself, and she was definitely curious herself as to what happened on that lonely road. As they looked around, she noticed the way Michael avoided the other investigators and didn't look anyone in the eye. He seemed distracted, which she could understand after the day's events. But even then, Dani had always known Michael to be at his best while under pressure or stress. Maybe this was different because he didn't have the assurance of his friends' help, but from everything Dani had read of his previous time with the Agency, Michael was known for how well he worked on his own. She knew she would get to the bottom of it eventually. She would just have to wait for the right moment to ask him.

Michael didn't spend long looking around the scene before he returned to where Dani was examining the wreckage of the van. Whoever pulled off the extraction had set it on fire afterward, so there wasn't much left.

"Why haven't they cleared the road yet?" Michael asked.

Dani knew that wasn't what was really on his mind, but she humored him for the moment. "This is just an access road. No one but the CIA uses it, and they didn't want to contaminate the scene."

"I think they've contaminated it plenty."

Dani raised her eyebrows. "You want to tell me what you're thinking, or do I have to guess?"

Michael looked around the scene as if worried someone was listening. "Why the sedative?" he said, looking back at Dani.

"What do you mean? They had to incapacitate the driver and the guards."

"Why bother if they just planned on killing them?"

"Okay, you're right. They coroner said they were unconscious when they died. How does that help us?"

"There was one guy."

"What?"

"One man did this. There's only one set of footprints in the dirt by the road, one caliber of ammunition, one gun. The sedative gave him a chance to get in and kill all of them before they could fight back."

"How could one man pull all this off?"

"It's not that hard if you're willing to kill anyone who gets in your way."

"Why do I get the feeling you know this guy?"

"I can't be sure. I know it was one guy, and if I'm right, he at least has a lot in common with someone I knew. Let's hope that's all."

Dani shook her head. "This just keeps getting better."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

As Fiona stood on the front porch of Madeline's house, she suddenly felt very different than she had any of the other times she had been there. Even after Michael left, she had still come around from time to time for work or sometimes just to see how Madeline was doing. They were still friends after all. But now, knowing Michael was back, and she was here—indirectly—because he needed her again. It should have been just like old times, but it wasn't. It was nothing like that.

Madeline answered the door and looked surprised. "You don't usually knock," she said.

Fiona faltered. "Well, I... didn't want to barge in if..."

"It's all right." Madeline pulled her inside. "I get it."

Fiona found herself standing in the living room. Charlie was sitting on the couch, holding a model car in both hands. He didn't look up at the sound of Fiona's voice, or even when she sat down in the chair across from him. Madeline went into the kitchen to finish dinner, but Fiona had a feeling no one would be eating much.

Fiona had never been good with children, especially not those too young to play Army men. Charlie might have been more likely to put them in his mouth. The car was something. Fiona knew Charlie liked cars. She had seen him only a few times when he had been visiting Madeline in the past few months, and all those times he was playing with toy cars or talking about some fancy car he saw on the road.

It was a start.

"What kind of car is that?" Fiona asked.

Charlie looked up at her with disinterested eyes. He shrugged.

"Can I see?" Fiona held out her hand, but Charlie didn't seem to want to let it go. So, Fiona leaned in closer to get a look. "Oh, that's a Camaro. Very nice. Do you have a favorite kind of car?"

Charlie seemed to be thinking. "I like black ones."

Fiona raised her eyebrows. She had an idea of what Charlie meant. "Is that so? I think I prefer blue."

Charlie nodded. "Blue is good too."

"Is there any kind you don't like?"

"Um, brown ones, maybe."

"Yeah, they're kind of boring. What kind of car do you want to drive when you grow up?"

Charlie knew the answer to that question. "One like Uncle Michael's."

Fiona nodded, trying not to show that she her discomfort at the direction of the conversation. "Did you have fun riding in it today?"

Charlie nodded vigorously. "I got to—um..."

"What? You got to what?"

"I can't tell. It's a secret."

"Oh, I see. And you promised not to tell right?"

"Yeah. I told Uncle Michael I'm good at keeping secrets, and he made me promise not to tell, so I'm not gonna."

"All right. I wouldn't want you to. It's good to keep secrets with your family. Just don't keep secrets from them."

Charlie nodded again. "I won't keep any secrets from Uncle Michael, 'cause he's so smart, he'd figure it out anyway."

Fiona smiled stiffly. "Yes he is."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

After Sam made a few calls to his law enforcement contacts, he and Jesse headed over to the station to talk to Detective Carrillo. There wasn't much they could do on their own, but hopefully the detective would be willing to point them in the right direction, or do so unwittingly.

"So what's this guy like?" Sam asked as they drove through thick, rush hour traffic.

"Seems pretty by the book," Jesse replied. "Which means he's probably not going to give us much, but at least he'll see the case through."

"So, good cop. I guess we can work with that. Maybe convince him we can help."

"He doesn't seem like the type to let civilians get involve. Even civilians as awesome as we are."

"You are just a ray of sunshine today, my friend. I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone."

Jesse gave Sam a look of mock sternness. "Sam, eventually, you will always answer the phone."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, probably. If it'd been Mike calling, I'd have answered the first time."

"I knew that. You know, a guy could start to get jealous?"

"Tough. Although, I was surprised he didn't call me himself."

"I think he sees me as a friendly right now. How did your conversation go this morning?"

"Depressing." Sam laughed humorlessly. "Maybe that's why he called you."

"Actually, he texted me, but he was a little busy with a hysterical child."

Sam shook his head. "Man, poor kid."

Jesse stared out the window. "Yeah."

* * * Burn Notice * * *

Michael returned to his mother's house very late that evening. The whole neighborhood was silent as if it were rows of headstones rather than houses, and the people in them slept in coffins. There were porch lights and even a glow here and there from a window, but Michael didn't see them. He didn't see the bright lights of his mother's house casting long shadows on the front lawn.

There was a row of cars on the curb, or at least it seemed so. Michael saw Sam's first and then Fiona's. He anticipated another awkward conversation, but this time he had a better reason for being there. Riley wasn't just his enemy, and it was clear that all of them cared about Charlie. He would have to focus on those things and avoid bringing personal feelings into it. Not that it would do much good.

As he walked through the front door, Michael noticed the feeling of dead silence increased. The lights in the living room and kitchen were on, but the only person he could see was Fiona sitting in a chair near the couch, staring at the doorway, and now, at Michael.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked. It wasn't accusing; he was curious.

Fiona glared at him. "Sam called me," she said. "He wanted someone to keep an eye on Madeline and Charlie while he and Jesse went poking around with the cops."

"I didn't ask him to do that."

"You didn't ask him anything. You called Jesse first."

"I knew he wouldn't bite my head off."

Fiona stood up and crossed her arms. "Is that what this is? I'm angry because you didn't call me when you needed help, and that constitutes biting your head off?"

Michael didn't rise to Fiona's baiting. He didn't change his calm tone. "You made it clear this morning that you didn't want to see me anymore. Which is why I'm surprised that you're here."

Fiona's jaw tensed. "You and I may be done, but this concerns all of us. And if Ruth's death has anything to do with Riley, we're all in a lot of trouble. You just do your job, and we'll take care of the rest."

Michael nodded. "Where are Sam and Jesse?"

Fiona jerked her head to the side. "In the garage. They've been out there all evening."

"What about my mom?"

"She went to check on Charlie. He hasn't been sleeping well since she put him to bed a few hours ago."

Michael nodded again. "Thanks for coming, Fi. You didn't have to."

Fiona blinked hard. "Yes I did."