AN: Hello everyone! So...I planned on posting this story before season 6 started but unfortunately life got in the way. I hope this doesn't deter anyone from reading it though! This FF takes place after season 5 finale and this will be a complete AU season 6. This is one of those nice, fluffy stories; kinda like The Princess Bride with a Burn Notice kick(metaphorically speaking of course, cause this story is nothing like The Princess Bride).

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Sad to say, they aren't mine :(


Work long enough as a spy and the line to kill you gets pretty long, whether it's an old enemy, a dissatisfied employer, or a disgruntled asset. You learn to live with people wanting you dead. But when they begin threatening your loved ones, the situation becomes personal and while that can be motivating, it can also be very dangerous.

Sweat dripped down his face as he continued to force his body through a series of crunches. His abdomen burned with agony and he knew he was overexerting himself, but it seemed to be the only thing that kept him from thinking about her; Fiona.

At least most of the time.

It had been one whole month since Michael watched Fiona walk up those steps and turn herself in to the FBI. During that time no new leads on Anson's whereabouts surfaced and Michael had no new evidence to get Fiona released. Even Agent Pearce (after Michael finally broke down and told her everything) was unable to sway the FBI into handing Fiona over to the CIA. Without Anson, the FBI was keeping a tight grip on the only person they had in connection to the embassy bombing that resulted in the death of two guards. They even refused to tell Pearce where they were keeping her.

A feral scream escaped Michael's throat as he sat up from his makeshift workout bench. No matter how sticky a situation got, Michael always managed to find a way out of it, but this time was different; this time his hands were bound because Fiona took the choice and made it for him. She was the one to disappear this time to an undisclosed prison and for the first time ever, Michael understood what he put her through when he was taken away to an secret prison a couple of years ago.

A single teardrop slowly rolled down his cheek. He made a promise to himself that after he got Fiona back, she would come first no matter what, even if it meant leaving the CIA for good. At least, that's what he told himself.

"Fi," he whispered aloud before he walked over to his end table and picked up the letter that Fiona had written to him. He read it again for the hundredth time even though he had it memorized word for word. The fragile letter had become his guide, reminding him everyday what he was fighting for. It was the only thing that kept him going, that kept him from becoming what his Mom feared he would've become had he not joined the military at the tender age of seventeen.

He carefully set the letter down before his fists clenched tightly together. He loved his mother and cared about Sam and Jesse, but Fiona was his only reason for staying grounded. If not for her, he would've slipped away into the night and never looked back twice. She was his home and he hated himself for not telling her often enough what she really meant to him. He regretted never uttering the words I love you.

A knock on the door startled him and he quickly composed himself before answering it. As soon as he cracked the door, Agent Dani Pearce pushed her way in and sauntered over to the kitchen area.

"Well hello Agent Pearce, please come on in," Michael remarked sarcastically.

She threw a file down onto the counter and smiled. "We found him Michael."

"Anson? You found Anson Fullerton?" He questioned, not really believing her.

Pearce waved him over and opened the file for Michael to look at it.

"He's been hiding in plain sight, right under our damn noses as a child psychologist in downtown Miami. He knew he had no way out without us being alerted so he changed his name and appearance and made himself cozy."

Michael looked at the surveillance photo that was in the file. The man pictured had black hair styled in a short military crew cut. He was clean shaven and sported a pair of stylish eyeglasses. It was a drastic change from what Michael remembered him looking like, but nonetheless he knew the man pictured was in fact Anson Fullerton. He threw the picture down and picked up the sheet with Anson's new identity profile.

"Dr. Wesley Michaels," Michael read out loud.

"Yeah, quite an arrogant son of a bitch, isn't he?"

Michael shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe it had taken them a month to find him when Anson was practically giving them a giant arrow pointing to his whereabouts.

"So when do we go get him?"

"As soon as you shower and change. My team is moving into position as we speak. I'll wait for you downstairs," Pearce explained as she picked up the file and left.

It wasn't the first time Michael had to get ready on the dime. During his stint in the military, it was an everyday routine. Within ten minutes he was showered, fully dressed and out the door.

"Did you even use soap?" Pearce joked as he climbed in next to her in the back of the SUV.

Michael flashed his winning smile and Pearce just shook her head as she waved the driver to go.


The trip to downtown seemed to take forever as Michael started to twitch in his seat. This was the first real hope he had since Fiona turned herself in. Once they had Anson Fullerton in custody, the CIA was willing to trade him to the FBI in exchange for Fiona. He didn't know what Pearce did to get Langley to agree to such an arrangement, but if it actually got Fiona freed, Michael would owe Pearce big time.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he realized the car had stopped and parked along the street. He turned to face Pearce who still had her hand on him.

"Michael, I need to know that you can do this without letting your emotions run the show. We need him alive if you want any chance of Ms. Glenanne being released," Pearce explained.

Like a light switch being flipped off, Michael's demeanor immediately changed. He looked to Pearce through cool, calculated eyes. "I can handle it. Let me run point and I will make sure he is taken into custody… alive."

She studied him for a minute before nodding. "You can run point, but I'm counting on you not to screw this up, Westen."

Michael gave a curt nod before they climbed out of the SUV and briskly made their way to the building where Anson's office was located. Michael saw that Pearce had gone above and beyond the call of duty and brought a lot of agents as back up. To the untrained eye, it looked like everyday people going about their business in Miami, but to a spy like Michael, he easily spotted over a dozen undercover agents.

Pearce stopped at the building entrance and listened to the Bluetooth in her ear before she turned to Michael. "I just received confirmation that he's here."

With a firm nod, they entered the building and moved as quickly as they could without actually running. Four more agents joined up with them as they reached Anson's business door. With a flick of his wrist, Michael popped open the door and charged in.

They entered a waiting room and people sitting there jumped in surprise at their appearance. The secretary behind the desk screamed and he realized she was the human version of a panic alarm for Anson. Michael knew he had only precious seconds to reach him. As fast as he could, he jumped over the secretary's desk and kicked in Anson's office door. With his gun raised, Michael caught Anson with a 9mm pressed against his temple. Anger boiled beneath the surface as he realized Anson would rather take his own life then get captured and save Fiona.

"Well, it took you long enough to find me, Michael. Are you losing your touch?" Anson sneered.

Michael remained silent as his finger itched to pull the trigger. He hated that Anson still held the fate of someone he loved in his hands. He just wanted it all to end already.

"Tell everyone to leave or else I end this now," Anson warned. "I want it to be just me and you, Michael."

"Westen," Pearce whispered from behind him in concern.

"It's alright Pearce," Michael stated without taking his eyes off Anson. "Leave us."

Pearce and the other agents reluctantly left the room, leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

"Happy now?" Michael quipped.

Anson sighed dramatically. "Poor Fiona has been locked away for a month because you took your grand old time to find me. You really do put everyone that cares about you on the back burner, don't you? It's a shame really. I wish I could see Fiona's reaction to the news that I killed myself while you stood by and watched. How crushed she will be to know her sacrifice was all for nothing."

"I won't let that happen," Michael spit threw his teeth. "You will tell the FBI the truth and that Fiona is innocent."

Anson laughed. "Now why would I do that? The only people with that knowledge are me, you, and your gang of misfit soldiers. You have no tangible proof that I was involved. Thanks to Fiona and Sam, that was destroyed when my warehouse mysteriously blew up. You lost the only evidence to clear her name. Even if I did go to the FBI, do you really think I would tell them the truth? Although, it might be interesting to see who they would actually believe; an illegal immigrant who was an IRA bomb specialist or a meager child psychologist."

Michael plastered on a fake smile. "The FBI and CIA know you are not a, how did you put it, meager child psychologist, but I'm sure you could weasel your way out of the charges. How about you put the gun down and we take you to the FBI to plead your innocence."

"Nice try Michael but we both know I'm not leaving this office alive," Anson retorted as he started to squeeze the trigger.

Michael panicked and shouted out the first thing he could think of. "I never got the chance to thank you..."

Anson paused his trigger finger. "Thank me for what?"

"For my burn notice. You were right when you said I had nothing until you got me blacklisted. Because of you, I got to make things right with my mother and watch my younger brother clean up his act and have a family of his own; I got the chance to gain good, trustworthy friends that have my back no matter what. But most of all, I got to rekindle my relationship with my ex-girlfriend, the only woman who will ever own my heart."

Anson tilted his head. "See that wasn't so hard, now was it? That's all I ever wanted Michael, was your gratitude. If you would've done that earlier in our relationship, things would've ended on a better note for you."

Michael paused as he fought off his emotions before speaking again.

"Why can't you just tell the FBI it was me instead of Fiona? Why does she have to suffer for my career and my mistakes? Why is she the one in prison when it should've be me?" Michael questioned.

"Because Michael, I own you and everyone in your life. Her imprisonment is more of a punishment to you then you being in jail yourself, "Anson clarified before he grinned. "This actually all worked out better than I had hoped. I knew out of everyone you cared about, Fiona would be the easiest one to set up and the best person to leave the deepest metaphorical cut to your heart. I knew that the minute I got Larry involved she would become reckless and predictable because she couldn't stand the way Larry got under your skin. It was so easy to make her guilty that I barely had to lift a finger. Just a couple of well placed bombs in the lobby was all it took. Once I held Fiona's fate, you became the one who was reckless and predictable. I have to admit though; I never thought she would actually turn herself in. The look you must've had on your face when she went behind your ba…"

A gunshot suddenly rang out and Anson dropped to the ground. Smoke curled out of the end of Michael's gun barrel as he stood rigid with tears brimming in his eyes. Pearce and the other agents rushed in and seized Anson's gun before they checked to see if he was alive.

Michael had made a clean shot through Anson's upper arm. Pearce quickly used Anson's neck tie to staunch the bleeding before the agents hauled him up. Michael slowly lowered his gun as Pearce zip-tied Anson's hands together.

"Don't think this means you won," Anson warned. "I don't crack easy during interrogations and without any evidence; I'll be released around this time tomorrow while your precious girlfriend rots in jail."

Michael locked eyes with him before he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up. Anson's jaw went slack when he realized Michael was wearing a wire and had recorded everything. Michael yanked his shirt back down before he flashed a full-tooth grin at Anson as he was escorted out of the office.

"Good job Michael. For a minute there I thought you were going to kill him," Pearce stated as she took the gun from Michael's hand.

"For a minute there, so did I," Michael confessed.


AN: This will be a multi chapter story. I hope you liked the first chapter! Also, for those of you who are a fan of my other story Long Way Home, keep your eyes peeled for an update ;)