Unfortunately, I don't own Burn Notice.
Michael glanced at a sleeping Fiona, making sure she was alright before he left their apartment. They needed a few things, and he planned to run to the store while she slept. He had just reached the door when the sound of her voice caused him to stop.
"Michael," she called quietly.
He made his way to the bedroom only to find that she was still asleep. However, she was tossing and turning, obviously having some sort of nightmare. "Michael," she mumbled again in her sleep.
He crouched down and lightly brushed some hair out of her face, hoping to gently wake her up.
"Fi," he said quietly.
"Michael," she said in relief, opening her eyes.
"Are you okay?" he questioned, his eyes searching her face.
"Just a nightmare," she answered.
"I was going to run to the store, will you be okay?" he asked.
A slight look of panic crossed her features at the idea of him leaving.
"Stay?" she whispered pleadingly, sounding so vulnerable that it broke his heart. As soon as she opened her mouth he knew he wouldn't be leaving. He couldn't say no to her.
He nodded, before kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket and scarf. He crawled into bed next to her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, dropping a kiss to the top her head.
"Promise?" she questioned quietly.
"I promise," he vowed, pulling her even closer.
A few weeks later, Michael stood over the same bed, watching as she slept. She looked so peaceful and content; with no idea about the internal turmoil he was experiencing.
The call had come twenty minutes ago. The voice on the other end hadn't said much, but what he had said was killing Michael. He'd had no idea one sentence could cause such anguish. Until now.
"Be ready to leave in thirty minutes," the voice had demanded, "Wheels up in an hour." The call had then ended, leaving Michael frozen, the dial tone ringing in his ears as he processed what had just happened.
The mission was over. He was leaving, probably to be shipped off to some undisclosed location. Now, ten minutes before he had to walk out of her life forever, he stood watching her sleep, tears gathering in his eyes. His only thought was that he was breaking his promise.
As a spy, he made many promises. He didn't keep most of them. He lied about his entire identity, why would a promise made while undercover mean anything? He threw around those two little words like they were nothing. He promised arms dealers they'd get their weapons. He promised mobsters they'd get their money. He promised his mom he'd come home for Christmas. He never intended on keeping any of them.
And then he met Fiona.
When she had asked him to stay that day, he complied. And when she asked him not to go anywhere, he had replied with those two simple words.
Even as he was saying them, he realized with a jolt that he meant it. The idea of leaving her caused him physical pain. It was easy to promise that he wouldn't. He didn't want to. And, yet, here he was. Leaving. Just like he'd promised he wouldn't do.
The one promise he had actually intended on keeping was the one promise that he had no control over.
He stood watching her, silently cursing himself, his job, the world. Himself for making the damn promise, his job for making him break it, the world for being cruel and separating them. He glanced at his watch and knew that he had to leave. However, he couldn't seem to make himself move away from her. Finally, he crouched down and placed a feather light kiss on her forehead.
"Goodbye, Fi," he whispered, unable to stop a few tears from falling. "I'll always love you," he added.
He got up and started towards the door, glancing back one more time before whispering two words into the silence.