Stone of the Heart

The Standoff

All eyes turned toward the entry as the doors began to open. They knew someone was about to step into the spotlight. Weapons were readied on the street and on the rooftops as movement was detected. The soldiers were prepared to fire, if necessary, as was Sean Glenanne. The American could only rein him in for so long.

Michael and Sean spotted her immediately. Fiona held her hands slightly above her, her legs wobbly, her eyes moist with fear, her loosened hair covering much of her face as her head hung downward. The Brits softened slightly at the sight of a woman in obvious distress.

"Get ready." Michael made the command with authority, requesting verification from those on the other end of the radio.

"They're gonna kill her, McBride." Sean was impetuous and ready to begin the fight.

"They will if you give away our position before she's ready. No way she survives a firefight with a dozen British troops. She knows that. She's planning something." Michael knew the woman well enough to realise she would not go calmly. Fiona would make some kind of a last stand; go down with guns blazing hoping to take as many of the opposition as she could with her. It's exactly what he would do.

Then, it happened. Fiona's knees buckled, her arms moved downward appearing to brace her fall but instead grabbed the gas grenades in quick succession hurling them toward the troops. Random fire erupted as a smoke screen of tear gas filled the area. Fiona scuttled behind a pillar, burying her face temporarily while the worst of the smoke cleared.

The troops backed up as the corporal called for reinforcements. Michael could see their tactical plan. Time was on the side of the British. A lone female with no more than two associates for backup stood little chance. Politically, the commander wanted no bodies on either side, so he was cautious. He moved his men back, waiting for additional troops before a full-scale breech began. Michael understood that Fiona was well aware the affect her actions would have. She was buying time, but for what? Whatever she was planning would happen very soon.

Just then, Fiona peered around the corner and fired six rounds in rapid succession. She was not about to wait any longer. Fiona was about to begin her last campaign.

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Ruairi watched her as she walked toward the door. The woman's mind was made up. There was no point in arguing with her. He helped Hughes to his feet, the man barely conscious. He braced the wounded man against his shoulder, partially carrying, partially dragging him along as they made their way back toward the south wall.

Their makeshift entry was likely found. He expected at least a couple of sentries to be posted there. A combination of tear gas and automatic weapons fire would hopefully eliminate the threat giving him time to get to the alleyway and safety. The operative believed that the smoke signal along that side of the building would alert the snipers that an immediate evacuation was needed. The call would be heeded by anyone in the vicinity; likely one of the black taxis that routinely roamed the area, many of the drivers having loyalties to the cause.

"Stay wit' me, man." Ruairi gave the man a slight slap. He needed to keep Hughes somewhat alert. He doubted he could wield a weapon and the unconscious. The man's face was ashen, time was of the essence. There was simply no time to scramble for alternatives. The plan, as desperate as it was, was all they had.

Ruairi checked his weapon once more, gripped his charge a bit tighter, and plunged toward the opening. The sound of gunfire was heard toward the front of the building. The big man said a silent prayer; his thoughts turned to Fiona, praying those shots were not directed at her. The damn woman infuriated him but she was a friend, a friend that just might have given her life so he and Hughie could make an escape. He hurled the gas grenade outside, lifted the wounded man on his back, and charged out of the building.

It was difficult holding onto the wounded man and his weapon. Sweat and blood soaked into his clothes but he made it to cover without having to fire a shot. He continued his progress, making it through the alley. The operative set Hughes down behind a dumpster and prepared for battle, expecting soldiers to return to their post at the opening. The trail of blood would quickly lead to their position but the IRA guerrilla did not intend to give up without a fight. He checked his weapon once more and released the safety. He was ready.

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Michael spotted the second gas grenade immediately, as well as the two men fleeing the bank. The plan suddenly became clear to the American spy. Fiona was making herself a decoy so that others could escape, one of whom appeared to be severely wounded. Her ammo would only last so long, eventually the forces would overwhelm her unless there was an exit strategy in place. Michael intended to find one.

"I need to get down there." Michael scrutinised Fiona's position as well as that of the British forces.

Sean snapped. "Ya got a death wish, McBride? I need ya up here to shoot the bastards so that me sister can get away."

Michael turned to Sean. "She's going to run out of ammo unless she gets some back up." The American devised a plan of his own. "I need you and the others to lay down cover fire. Aim for their feet. Keep the Brits away from her but don't hit one of them. They'll cut her down without mercy if one of their own falls."

Sean shook his head, fiercely determined to wipe out the threat and overflowing with confidence. He peered through the gun sight. "I've got a clear shot McBride." The Corporal's head lie in his crosshairs. He would eliminate the leader first, and then hit his troops. "I can take 'em out. I can take 'em all out."

"You think you have twelve clear shots? You willing to bet Fiona's life on it?" Michael's eyes hardened. He understood the man's desire for action but sometimes restraint was the wiser course of action. He briefly thought of knocking the man out fearing his hubris would lead to disaster but the Irishman's sniper skills were desperately required if Michael's plan had any chance of success.

Their eyes met and Sean could see that the man before him had a vested interest in Fiona's survival. The man was in love. He hoped he had told his sister. She deserved a bit of happiness - especially if her end was near. He couldn't bear the thought of losing another sister, watching the light leave his mother's eyes once again. "All right, McBride. We'll do it yer way. But if you feck up and we lose her, ya'll be choking on a bullet, ya will."

Michael made no response but simply turned away. He wasn't about to leave the bank environs without Fiona, whatever fate loomed before them.

His thoughts were in turmoil as he left the roof. He had to find a way to get Fiona out of there without harming a single British soldier. As a former Ranger, his sympathies were divided. Those soldiers were following orders, eliminating an internal terrorist threat by cutting off its funding sources, preventing the illegal organisation from pushing through their own agenda by force. His conscience simply would not allow him to kill any member of a military force that was an essential ally to the United States. On the other hand, Fiona was in danger. She was..., well, he wasn't exactly sure what she was to him but he knew that he would lay down his own life in exchange for hers.

Once at street level, he wound his way toward the bank. Sporadic gunfire could be heard on the deserted streets. He recognised the sounds of the single shots being fired by Fiona, the sniper fire keeping the Brits at bay, and the returning rounds directed at the PIRA bank robber. His steps hastened as he neared the area. He plastered himself against a wall, readied his Sig Sauer, and prepared himself to make a mad dash to her.

Michael Westen used every trick in his arsenal to cover the ground between the safety of the nearby street and the pillar fronting the bank that she was using for cover. He rolled, twisted, sprinted, successfully avoiding the gunfire targeted in his direction. He hoped that Fiona would recognise him as a friendly or one of her well-placed bullets would put a swift end to his rescue attempt. Finally, he reached the pillar, squeezing next to her as they cowered behind the structure as bullets chipped away at the concrete.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Fiona's eyes flashed with anger as Michael propelled himself to her side. She shot once more, then returned her focus to the newly arrived.

"What does it look like?" The American took a shot himself aiming for the vehicles rather than personnel. Fiona made no response as bullets continued to fly. "You're gonna run out of clips if this goes on much longer. We need to get out of here. Reinforcements should be here any minute."

Fiona was struck once again as his American accent always caught her off guard. "Michael, ya don't need to be here."

"Maybe not, but I'm here now." Michael scanned his surroundings as they both continued to keep their attackers from advancing. They would not be able to hold them off much longer. "We need to go back inside. Now!"

"Back inside? It won't buy us much more time." Fiona shot once again, her ammunition already running low.

"But it will buy us some!" Michael grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door as they fired a barrage of rounds behind them. The snipers increased their threat as soon as the pair had begun to move.

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Sean watched the pair slip back into the bank. "Shite!" He had no idea what McBride had in mind. He nearly opened fire intending to mow down the entire squad but something held him back. McBride had accurately predicted the Brits movements. Perhaps, he had a plan that would save his remaining sister. The Irish sniper continued his assault, planting bullets on the ground to keep them from rushing the building. He planned to continue this tactic until more soldiers arrived closing off all avenues of escape. His rifle would be useless against heavy artillery. He fired again and again, wishing he had brought an RPG. Next time his little sister decided to rob a bank he intended to be suitably armed.

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Once inside, they moved toward the back of the building, away from the reach of gunfire. "Michael, they're gonna go for a full on breech within minutes. Why the hell did ya bring us back inside? We'll be surrounded!" Fiona followed his lead but she hardly found their position comforting in any way.

Michael perused his surroundings. A smile crossed his face as he was struck with an idea. "Do you have any C-4?" The explosive expert rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the question. "Of course, you do." He nodded his head in an apologetic way.

"What exactly are you planning?" Fiona could see that Michael had a strategy in mind.

"We go up to the roof. Blow the staircase. Make our way out from there." Michael stared at the surrounding walls, hoping they would withstand an explosion.

Fiona shook her head prepared to point out the risks of setting charges without having architectural blueprints of the building. But then, they both stopped cold. The sound of heavy military vehicles could be heard rumbling down the street, descending on their position. Neither said a word. Fiona began laying out her C-4 along the stairway between the first and second floors. They needed to act quickly before the breech occurred filling the building with British troops.

Michael watched her work. She quickly analysed each step, placing each block at intervals that would cause damage without complete destruction. The goal was to escape, not to take down the whole section. She wouldn't hesitate to take a few British soldiers down with the structure. They were the ones responsible for taking Claire from them. But she could see that Michael, an American spy and former soldier himself, preferred no collateral damage.

All was ready. They moved upward. A fire door led to the roof. One last obstacle and they would be outside. A small smile of victory spread across Michael's face until he tried the knob and nothing happened. "Great! It's painted shut. Don't you people have fire codes over here?"

Fiona pushed him aside. She pulled something else out of her holdall and began applying it to the doorframe. Michael looked down the staircase. "They're at the doors, Fi." He turned toward her, confused as to her actions as he watched her duct tape a strip of material around the closed exit. "What the hell is that?"

"Shape charge. I come prepared." Fiona moved slightly away and detonated the cord. The door released from its hinges.

Michael smiled, impressed by her knowledge of explosives and her resourcefulness. "Nice." He would have her teach him how to use that particular technique. It would be a useful addition to his bag of tricks.

The sound of crunching metal and glass shattering reverberated throughout the building. The entrance had been breeched. "They're in." Michael grabbed her hand and prepared to leave the roof as quickly as possible. Fiona depressed the detonator and they leapt from the building, landing on the roof of the adjoining structure. They continued skipping over the rooftops until they felt some modicum of safety. Some leaps required faith in addition to skill, but for both operatives death from a fall was preferable to British capture. For Fiona, imprisonment was a certainty. For Michael, an American spy, his participation would likely cripple diplomacy between the United Kingdom's and United States' secret services. He might even wind up in Guantanamo, labelled a traitor to his own country!

They entered the building through the roof at the far side of the street, the door fortunately opening with ease. Sirens could be heard heading toward the area as small flames licked about the bank. Once inside they set to work wordlessly. They did what they could to disguise their appearance. Fiona's cargo pants were cut into a pair of very short shorts, her T-shirt transformed into a midriff top, her hair twisted into a high ponytail, and her combat boots unlaced giving her an edgy look. Michael abandoned his jacket, popped his collar, ruffed his hair, and tucked his sunglasses into his shirt. They shared a smile at their transformations and hoped it was enough of a disguise.

The two ambled out of the building, hand in each other's back pockets, their lips locked in a display of public snogging, blissfully unaware of the chaos around them. No one paid the couple any heed, not when there was so much happening nearby. Michael and Fiona, improbably, had cheated death once again, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

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The couple weaved their way through the streets, eventually being picked up by an associate patrolling the area in hopes that the operatives could somehow extricate themselves from the dark situation. He wasn't that optimistic when he began his search but owed it to the Glenanne brothers to make the attempt. But fate, coupled with skill, had reaped success and with his passengers secured, they made their way to a safe house back in West Belfast.

As soon as they entered the house, Sean rushed over to his sister, embracing her roughly as relief washed over him. "Tank God, yer all right. Gave us a fright, ya did." He kept her arm around her. "Tought we wuz goin' to lose ya when I saw ya pinned down by those British bastards, but yer man here is nearly as daft as yerself."

He extended his hand toward Michael. "Tank you for protectin' Fiona. Yer an honest man and I'm honoured to have fought beside ya." The spy was uncomfortable with the compliment. Fiona glanced in his direction aware of the irony of her brother bestowing that particular adjective to describe the American.

Regardless of his past deception, he put himself in harm's way to come to her aid. She knew how much Michael wanted to take down Hannon but his actions tonight seemed to indicate that she really was more than an 'asset'. Maybe they did have a future after all?

Ruairi was the next in line to welcome her. "Thought ya were done for."

"Hughie?" Fiona hesitantly said the name fearing the report she would receive.

"We got picked up right after we made it out. Took Hughie over to the doc. Lost a lotta blood but he's a tough old bugger. Gettin' him stable then sendin' him south for treatment." Ruairi watched as her face relaxed.

"And the others?" Three members of their team were unaccounted for.

The big man looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting to the others in the room, the others who were well aware of the precarious situation that still existed. "Brennan and Grady are in custody. Provos fer life, they are. They'll not give the bloody Brits a word."

"And O'Farrell?" Fiona's heart began to race. Something was amiss.

Ruairi cleared his throat and explained. "In the wind, he is. Went by his place. Maeve and the baby are gone. Place is cleared out. Looks like the bastard turned on us. No telling what deal he's made." He paused momentarily. "They'll be huntin' for him soon enough." Fiona needed no further information. Word would be out on the street to find and eliminate O'Farrell. He had betrayed the movement. He had betrayed his friends. He had sealed his own fate. Ruairi knew that there was a possibility that their names were in British hands, their own future uncertain. It was time to find a safe harbour for the time being. "Sheilagh's packin' up. Gettin' the kiddos ready to go. Headin' to me brother's place in Killybegs, we are."

"So, little sister," Sean broke in the conversation, "best ya head to Dublin." Then, he looked toward Michael. "Ya, too, McBride."

Fiona nodded slowly. "I'll just go home get..." She stopped when she saw their faces creased with worry. There was no returning to the terraced house in Belfast, at least, not at this point. "Right."

"Land Rover out back. Full tank. Ready to go." Sean could no longer meet his sister's eyes, so he spoke directly to Michael. "Head west toward Sligo. Best avoid the southern border."

Michael understood. He knew how to circumvent a manhunt but there was a burning question in the spy's mind before an exit was possible. "Casualties on the British side?" He dreaded hearing the answer but need to fully understand the extent of the damage he had caused. She was worth it but the Agency would never see it that way if the part he played in the debacle were ever discovered.

"Bloody Brits! Didn't take any of them out. If only ya had waited to blow the stairs a few seconds longer." Sean told McBride the bad news while Michael feigned disappointment. "Now, off ya, too go, afore they lock down the area. I'll tell mammy yer off and away."

The couple headed out, Fiona taking a final glance behind her. She was leaving Belfast under duress, her return uncertain, and her companion had divided loyalties, which she could see was taking its toll. Life with this man was never easy, but for now, it was a life together.

A/N: As always your kind reviews are heartily appreciated. Special thanks to you all during this time of American Thanksgiving. The next instalment of Stone of the Heart will be posted on December 3. Next week I'll be focused on family. Cheers!