A surprise update! And this is the longest chapter to date. The kidnapper is revealed, old associates show up, and of course angry Fi makes an appearance! LOL. I felt particularly evil writing this because I am severely sunburned and felt the need to make others suffer. LMAO. Also, there are lots of references to some of the best episodes. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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"Michael!"

Fiona shot upright, her chest heaving and her hands frantically searching for Michael. Somehow she was in her bed at the loft, and for a moment she crazily thought it had all been a dream. Michael was safe.

Then she saw Sam's face.

"Fi, thank God you're okay." He got up from the chair he'd occupied for the past couple of hours. He had been running into the house through the back door when he heard the screeching tires, and he had found Fiona unconscious on the floor. He had picked up her disturbingly light body and carried her out to the Charger. Madeline had been in the kitchen, unharmed, and she had followed Sam outside. Without a word, she had gotten into the passenger's seat while Sam carefully laid Fiona in the backseat. The drive back to the loft had been tense to say the least. But when they had gotten there, Sam had carried Fiona up to the loft and laid her in her bed, then proceeded to wait.

Now she was awake, and he could get some answers. "What happened?"

Fiona sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I was with Michael when I got your text. I managed to get him into the closet, but someone threw a gas can into the room… He had a mask on, and I couldn't…I couldn't stop him…" A hard lump formed in her throat as the memories started to emerge. The fear she saw in Michael's face, the sound of him screaming her name over and over…

Sam reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Calm down, Fi. We're going to get him back."

Her shoulders straightened as she got out of the bed. Someone had stolen Michael from her, and she wasn't about to sit around and do nothing. That wasn't her style, and this was Michael. She would kill to get him back.

Sam didn't like the look in her eyes. "Fi…"

Waving a hand, she knelt down and reached under the bed, where she kept her favorite weapons.

"Fiona, what are you doing? You can't just go all Rambo. We don't even know who took him yet!"

"I'll find out." She strapped her Walther to her ankle, and her H&K compact with the silver slide to her thigh.

Getting out of his chair, Sam knelt down and grasped her arm. Then he pulled her to her feet, and he w as caught off guard by the murderous look in her green eyes. "Just calm down and think about this for a second, Fi. We don't know who took him, or where they took him. We don't even know why. Before we go on a shooting rampage, we need to figure that out." And they needed to do it quick, or Fiona would wind up blowing up half of Miami to find him.

Fiona's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Let go of me, Sam."

Wisely he released her arm, and she went back to arming herself. "Fiona…"

When she was finished, she got back to her feet. "Sam, someone took Michael from me. And I will get him back, no matter what I have to do."

He sighed. "I know." He knew just what Michael meant to her.

"Good. Then don't try to stop me."

"I'm not. I'm going to help you."

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Michael's head throbbed as he slowly returned to consciousness. His mouth was dry, and he couldn't move his arms or legs. He tried to speak, but something was in his mouth, preventing him from making a sound. He fought hard not to panic. Where was he? More importantly, where was Fiona?

The last thing he remembered, someone was dragging him out of the closet that Fiona had hid him in. He had heard her collapse, and he'd screamed her name over and over until a sweet-smelling cloth was placed over his face and he knew no more.

Slowly he opened his eyes, but as usual, darkness greeted him. He tentatively moved his head from side to side.

A door swung open, and he slammed his eyes shut again as pain shot through his skull.

"Hey, kid. How are you feelin'?"

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Fiona shook her head as she moved around Michael's old bedroom. Thanks to Sam, Madeline had been whisked away to an undisclosed location, despite her spirited protests. Both Sam and Fiona wanted to keep her safe, and they knew that Michael would have agreed.

Sam stepped into the room. "Find anything?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Fiona, we're going to find him."

"How do you know that, Sam? How?" she demanded, stalking up to him. Even though he was twice as big as her, he visibly shirked away from her rage.

"Because…we have to. We'll find him."

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The voice sent a cold shiver down Michael's spine, and he tried to breathe as normally as possible as the man slowly approached him. He couldn't see, but he could hear very well. A subtle cologne hit his nose, and it was vaguely familiar. But he still couldn't remember, and he swallowed a groan of frustration. What was going on? Where was Fiona? Was she okay? He had to get back to her.

"Don't be rude, kid." The man reached out and removed the gag from Michael's mouth, allowing him to breathe freely. "I'm your friend."

"Who…?" Michael gasped, glad to be rid of the gag.

"You really did take a nasty blow, huh? Must've, if you don't remember me."

The younger man could only sit there helplessly.

"You and I are very old friends. We met when you were just a kid, and I took you under my wing. I've been looking for you." His expression shifted to one of concern. "After you were hurt, I couldn't find you right away. But I did. Like I always told you, I'll always come for you."

There was still no verbal response from Michael, but the older man didn't seem irritated by that. He continued to talk as he untied Michael's legs.

"Sorry I had to tie you up. I didn't know what your state of mind was, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself or anyone else here."

Michael finally looked hopeful. "Is Fiona here?" His voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Fiona?" He barked out a laugh. "Kid, Fiona Glenanne and Sam Axe are the ones responsible for your injuries!"

"But… you…that can't be right…"

"It is. I had to throw a gas canister into the room to get you out of there. Fiona Glenanne is a very dangerous woman, and she probably would have killed me if I hadn't knocked her out first. It was the only way I could get you away from there safely." He produced a water bottle and urged Michael to drink out of it.

Michael swallowed a few sips gratefully. "She wasn't going to hurt me," he argued.

"Not yet, anyway." The older man went over to a desk in the corner of the room and picked up a file, then carried it back to Michael's chair. "I'm telling you, she's bad news." He freed Michael's hands, then handed him the file.

Michael gripped the file tightly. "I can't see…"

"Oh. Right." The older man took the file back and opened it. "I guess I'll just have to summarize it for you." He cleared his throat. "Fiona Glenanne, born to Aidan and Colleen Glenanne. She's the third-oldest, and only surviving girl. Her sister and the youngest of the Glenanne children, Claire Glenanne, was murdered when they were teenagers. This almost drove Fiona crazy, and it lead her to join the IRA. She became an expert in guerilla warfare, and she has taken countless lives."

"What…?" That couldn't be true. That was not the same woman who had taken care of him, comforted him and reassured him.

"Yeah. Since coming to Miami, she has set off dozens of explosions and been involved in dozens of arms deals with some very shady characters. She's not good news, kid."

"But… I know her…"

"You know what she told you, Michael. The woman is trouble, and the moment you cross her path, she'd kill you, too."

"Why…?"

"Because she can." He took the file and tucked it under his arm. Then he gently squeezed Michael's shoulder. "I'm just glad I was able to get you out of there. Are you hungry?"

Michael shook his head numbly.

"Okay. Well, there's a bed over there. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'll tell you more tomorrow." The man went to the door.

As he started to go, Michael lifted his head. "Wait."

The older man turned. "What is it, Michael?"

"What's your name?"

He smiled widely, revealing his teeth.

"Just call me Larry."

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After hours of searching with no results, Fiona and Sam finally left Madeline's home. They got into the charger, and for once Fiona didn't argue with Sam about who drove. She simply slid into the passenger's seat, which told Sam a lot about her current state of mind. It wasn't good.

They drove back to the loft in near-silence. When Sam parked, Fiona got out of the car and climbed the stairs that led up to the loft. She let herself inside and immediately proceeded to call every one of her contacts.

Sam knew that Fiona was upset, but he was reluctant to leave her alone. He sat in the Charger for a while before finally getting out and going upstairs. Fiona was in the kitchen, and he called out to her.

"Fi, I'm heading out. I have something I need to take care of."

Fiona impatiently waved him off, and he lingered at the door before finally leaving the loft.

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The next morning, Michael breathed slowly as he laid in the bed. He didn't know what to believe. Larry spoke as though he was telling the truth, but the first time he woke up after his injury, Fiona had been right there. She had answered every one of his questions, and she had held him to her in the deepest part of the night. He had instinctively trusted her.

But some part of him trusted Larry, too.

Absently he rubbed his temple. If Larry was right, Fiona had taken lives. Innocent lives. But there had to be a reason other than getting revenge for her dead sister. He had to talk to her.

The door opened again. "Rise and shine, kid!"

Michael turned away from the voice.

"Oh, don't be like that. I have breakfast for you."

His stomach growled, betraying him.

"You're hungry. Sit up and have something to eat. I made it myself."

Slowly Michael sat up.

"Uh oh. I know that look. You've been thinking." Larry sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to talk to Fiona."

"Why would you want to do that? I rescued you from her!"

"But… she protected me. She kept me safe."

"From what?"

Michael hesitated. "She said…"

"She didn't give you an answer, did she? Because there was no one to protect you from. She just wanted to keep you stashed away so I wouldn't find you and get you out of there."

He started to feel sick. Fiona had never told him in-depth why she was keeping him in the loft and refusing to let him outside. Maybe Larry was right…

Larry placed a spoon in Michael's hand. "Eat up, kid. When you're done, we're getting you up and about."

"Why?"

"Because it's good for you."

Michael wasn't so sure he agreed with that thought.

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Fiona woke up early, surprised that she had slept at all. Her hand instinctively reached across the bed for Michael, and her eyes filled with tears when she remembered what had happened. But she quickly wiped her tears away and sat up in the bed. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, but she rolled out of the bed and showered quickly. Then she dressed and picked up several guns before she left the loft.

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After breakfast, Larry led Michael out of the bedroom and into the living room. "What else did Fiona tell you?" he asked, helping Michael sit on the couch.

"She said I worked for the government."

Larry snorted.

"What?"

"You did work for the government. You were a spy. But they burned you."

"What does that mean?"

"They burned you. They froze your accounts, left you high and dry in the middle of a dangerous foreign country, then dumped you in Miami. I guess they figured that because your mom lives there, you'd be happy. But you couldn't stand your mom."

"What?"

"Yeah. In fact, the first thing you wanted to do was get the hell out of there. But you had no money or means to get out."

Michael leaned back against the couch, absorbing the new information.

"Your country betrayed you and dropped you like a hot potato."

"But…why?"

"Because men like us don't like taking orders from suits behind big desks. We do what's right, but they don't like how we do things."

"How do we do things?"

Larry grinned. "Don't worry, kid. Everything is going to be real clear very soon."

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The first person Fiona went to was her former boyfriend and gunrunner, Armand. As much as she despised him, he was very-well connected and could help her track whoever had taken Michael from her.

And when she found them, they would suffer.

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Unbeknownst to Fiona, Sam had also started putting making calls and talking with people who had their ears to the ground. He was certain Fiona was doing the same, but being a SEAL, his friends were less…shady. They also had deep ties and the ability to track anything or anyone. Sooner or later, someone would know something. He knew that much.

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Michael sat back on the couch as he listened to Larry speak. He couldn't see the man's face, but Larry seemed so sure and confident as he told Michael stories of their supposed past. People they had helped, children they had rescued… It seemed he had a tale for everything. But was it the truth, or just that? A tale. He was also starting to wonder about Fiona and Sam. Larry said that Sam was a washed-up old boozehound who lived off of handouts from rich women, and that he was holding Michael back.

"What are you thinking about, kid?"

He ran his hand over his face. "How do you know so much about Fiona?"

"I have her INTERPOL file, and the rest I learned from you."

"From… me?"

"Of course, kid. Did you think I pulled it out of thin air?"

"No… I mean, I don't know…"

"Look, I know you're freaked out. It probably didn't help that I grabbed you without explaining things first. But there was no time for that. If I'd left you there any longer, there is no telling what might have set Fiona off and led her to kill you."

"She would… kill me?"

"Of course! Michael, she has killed anyone that she believed to have been involved in her sister's death, whether or not they actually had a hand in it. If you had done anything to cross her, like breaking up with her, she would have tossed you into the ocean and let the sharks take care of the rest." He knew he'd done that a few times, when he grew bored of causing 'heart attacks'.

"But…"

"She seemed like she cared about you?" Larry supplied. "Yeah, she's good at that."

Michael ran his hand through his thick hair as another flash of an image entered his mind. He was in his loft, and there was a woman sitting on a barstool, her feet bare and her auburn hair falling in waves around her shoulders. His gut clenched at the emotions that accompanied the image. Who was she?

"Kid? What is it?"

"Who is she?" he whispered.

"Who?"

"The woman I keep seeing! I keep… I keep seeing her."

Larry let out a sigh. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to tell you this…"

"Tell me what?" Michael suddenly stood, his expression a mix of trepidation, anger and heartache. "Tell me what, Larry?"

Larry stood and gently urged Michael to sit down again. "Kid, you were married."

"I was?"

"Yes. Oh, Sophie was a beauty. Beautiful blue-green eyes, long auburn hair, and a stunning smile. You really loved her."

Michael's stomach sank. "Was…?"

The older man sighed. "When you went to Ireland, you met Fiona. She was crazy about you, but when she found out you were married…"

The younger man felt sick. "What?"

"She killed your wife."

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Sam made his way over to the loft that night with dinner. "Fi? I have food," he yelled as he unlocked the front door and let himself in. There was no reply, and he made his way to the kitchen. "Fi?" He set the bags of food down on the counter.

There was still no response, and he quickly walked around. "Fiona?" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and called her. But after a few rings, it went straight to voicemail.

Her phone was off.

Swearing loudly, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Then he walked back out of the loft, leaving the food abandoned on the counter.

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"So, what exactly do you want, Fiona?" Armand purred, raking his gaze over Fiona. He had agreed to meet her, but only over dinner.

Fiona ran her fingertip lightly along her knife. "Someone very dear to me has been abducted. I want you to help me find the bastard who did it."

Armand raised a dark brow curiously. "Do you have any idea who the abductor is?"

Reaching into her purse, Fiona withdrew a manila envelope. Then she slid it over to Armand. "I've narrowed it down to five people who have the means and motive. You're going to track them down."

He opened the envelope and sifted through the photos. Each photo was attached to a sheet of paper with information about the person. "Why do you want my help, Fiona?" Not that he wasn't eager to help her. For a price, of course.

"Because I know your reputation. And when we find this person, I want them dead."

"It sounds like you already know who it is."

"I have an idea." She waved her hand. "The last picture."

Armand flipped to the final picture. It was of an older man with a handsome smile. But he could see that that smile hid something dark. "Larry Sizemore…" His eyes narrowed. "It says he's dead."

"He's very good at faking his death, and he has an unhealthy obsession with Michael."

"Michael… as in your boyfriend?"

Fiona took a drink of her wine. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course not. But my fee just went up."

"Whatever you want, Armand, you'll get."

With a wicked grin, Armand held up his wineglass in a toast. "It's always a pleasure working with you, Fiona."

Fiona just smiled.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Oooh, that Larry! Just lyin' and being a bastard all over, huh? LMAO. Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Please review while I go find more aloe vera. There just might be a sunburned Michael story in the works... *evil laughter*