Bonus Drabbles

You Can't Tie a Mustang Down—The Monkees (2:53)

Burn Notice

Fiona

The first time Fiona had broken into the place where Michael was staying was back in Dublin and he'd been home. Of course he'd pulled a gun on her before he recognized who it was. That had taken less than two seconds. Then he'd rolled his eyes and pulled her into a fierce kiss.

"Ye're a menace, ye are," he breathed when they'd broken apart. "Ye cain't go breakin' inta a man's home and think ye won't get shot."

"And yet here I stand not shot," she whispered back.

Michael had taken her to bed then. For a very long night.

The memory of that night flashed through her mind as Michael held up the key to his loft. She wrapped her fingers around it and stared into his eyes knowing he was remembering too. The key was only a symbol really. She knew he didn't truly mind when she broke into his place. Never had. But giving her a key? That was something special. Something that would tie them together even if he didn't realize it.

Besides even with a key in her hand it wouldn't stop her from breaking into his loft. She'd actually had a key for weeks and simply never told him. It wasn't like he was living in Fort Knox or something, was it? It was fun to watch the look on his face when he discovered her lounging on his 'bed'. That mix of exasperation, amusement and affection.

So this key was a symbol of his acceptance of her in his life and it meant more than her favorite gun. He'd realize what he'd done eventually and then…well, Fiona thought to herself that night in Dublin had been very long and very good. Forever wasn't nearly long enough.

Who Are You—Carrie Underwood (3:54)

Continuum

Kiera

He unnerved her. She couldn't think of any other way to describe his effect on her. He was supposed to be so smooth. A con man. But he always seemed so…nervous? Shy? Maybe it was all an act but she didn't think so.

Matthew Kellogg was a puzzle. One moment he was shy and uncertain and then the next he was cocky and arrogant. Which was the real him? Were either of them? He was an enigma and it was driving her nearly insane that he was all she'd been thinking about.

It irritated her that even knowing what she did about him that a part of her found him charming and amusing. That a part of her liked him far more than she was willing to admit, even to herself. She shouldn't like him at all. He was a hardened criminal. And she was a Protector.

Except that he wasn't. He wasn't hardened. He was a con man, yes, but he wasn't a killer. Nothing in his file suggested violence of any kind. Unless he was cornered. Yet there had been no fear in his eyes when he'd held that bomb. He was a man with nothing left to lose.

But he'd wanted to help her. And he hadn't blown them all to Hell. He'd whined about missing breakfast and left.

He was a puzzle. It was probably not a good thing in this situation that she'd always loved puzzles. Probably not good at all.