Title: Just A Dream

Author: i luv ewansmile

Summary: Fiona goes in search of a missing Michael only to find the ex-spy completely wasted. But it's what happens next that nearly scares her to death. Will Michael come to her rescue or will he need help saving himself? Michael/Fiona.

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Burn Notice. This is just for fun, not for profit. I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.

Author's Note: It's a one-shot. Hope you enjoy. I really loved writing this. Please leave a review on your way out. Thank you.

Fiona's been looking for Michael for two hours. He had called her earlier and left her very vague directions now he's not answering his phone.

When she finally tracks him down she slings her bag onto the bar counter, orders a diet coke and yells over the music, "A bar on the strip. You couldn't have been a little more specific Michael?" She looks over at him and she looks at how he's slumped in the bar stool, a few inches away from falling to the floor.

She huffs in frustration as she jumps off the bar stool, replaces her purse strap on her shoulder and slinks beside him. "Michael," she says loudly, placing her hand on his arm. He straightens, eyes lightening up when he realizes its Fiona standing in front of him.

"Heyyyy," he slurs standing up. And he's like a puppet whose his strings have been cut as he drops to the floor. "Shit," she breathes, the loud club music drowning her curse out as she squats down next to him. She gets down close to his face and her nose wrinkles as she smells the hard liquor on his breath. He winces before shutting his eyes. "Ah! No! You're not sleeping here. Wake up!" She yells in his ear. "What is wrong with you?" She groans as she pulls him up roughly, lending him her tiny frame to lean against as she walks him out.

The warm night air seems refreshing in comparison to the smell of alcohol and sex of the club. She props him against her car as she digs for her keys in her purse. "What is wrong with you?" She questions him again, growing more frustrated. Michael Westen does not get wasted.

She finds her car keys, and opens his door for him. "Well what are you waiting for? Get in." She stamps her foot in annoyance.

"I'm cold." He says quietly as he drops into the seat.

"What? Michael we're in Miami! It feels like it's 80 degrees out here. It's the middle of the summer." She looks at him like he's crazy.

"I'm out in the cold Fi." Michael drones, his eyes distant, lost in thoughts far, far away. That's when she understood what he was saying. He was a spy left in the cold, cut off, like a junkie forced to quit cold turkey, he was having withdrawals.

She cranks the car and maneuvers through the streets of Miami, watching the streetlights go by. She rolls the car windows down and slides her hand out the window making slow waves in the air driving with one hand.

"I left here to-" He begins, and she pulls her hand back in and glances at him briefly. He stares straight ahead but he's moved to propped his head against the door, letting the air hit him directly in the face. She almost laughs before she sees the way his eyes glint with unshed tears. He shuts them and shifts uneasy in the seat.

His hand shoots out and smacks against her arm. She jerks and slows the car down, easing it to the curb as his fingers clench against the fabric of her blouse. Even before the car comes to a full stop he's on his knees on the grass dry heaving. She gets out quickly and waits patiently as he gains control of his body.

Nothing comes up and he rolls back on his heels, his elbows propped on his knees, his head propped in his hands. He looks like a lost puppy that someone has thrown away and she just happened to be the one to find him beside the road.

"When I left… I never imagined were I would go. I had never been out of the state, much less the country." His voice is a smooth slur but she can make out the words well enough to know she needed to pay close attention.

"I had a… unique set of job skills," he chuckles to himself remembering a time when he heisted a beautiful car in less than fifteen seconds when he was a kid.

"A few years in and I was already climbing the ranks. No, not the ranks…" he pauses, looking a bit confused with his own story, "…I had taken out a target with a rifle from 700 yards." Fiona quirks an eyebrow, impressed.

He continues, "They said, I had a natural talent. And a unique way with words," he grins then, a dark sardonic grin that makes her want to take a step back away from him and closer at the same time. He seems darker to her, jaded by the years of service to his government.

"Next thing I knew, I had gone from being Special Forces to being fitted for Armani suits and staying in five star hotels and being called Mr. Westen instead of 'Hey Boy!' " His grin is gone, replaced with a look of pure loathing. "Sure, I did things I'm not proud of but I did what needed to be done to finish the job. It was all that mattered, lives other than my own depended on it. I made a fucking difference!" He spits out the words like they're some sort of vile substance, a poison that would kill him if he let stay in.

He breathes hard for a moment and Fiona thinks he's done with his rant. His gentle laugh seems out of place after such a violent rant. His lips curve into a slight smile. "But then I met Fiona Glenanne." He says it smoothly with a thick Irish accent. And she inhales sharply hearing the voice of Michael McBride, as her heart begins to quicken its pace.

"Do you know how hard it was for me to leave you there?" His voice is steady but his face morphs into a mask of misery. And then she holds her breath, mind too blank to think.

"My beautiful Fiona, lying there in bed, alone. I tried to forget you." She lets out a silent sob, the memories flooding back to her all at once. The pain he caused her, the heartbreak that had never quite healed. "Please, just stop." She begs of him, not wanting to hear more. He looks up at her then, eyes bloodshot and brimming with unbridled fear, anger, love, and regret.

"That's just it. I couldn't stop. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how many missions, how many ops I went on could stop me thinking about you, or loving you!" He jerks unsteadily to his feet.

"No!" She cries, not wanting to believe him, not wanting to be hurt again. "You never loved me!" She yells at him, telling him what she has told her bleeding heart for years to protect herself.

He moves to silence her with his lips but he never makes it. Her slap is hot against his cheek. It stuns him enough to make him pause, to make him listen.

Her anger spent, she feels defeated. "Why? Why didn't ever come back for me? If you loved me… why didn't you have the decency to tell me goodbye?" She chokes out, face red and glistening with tears.

Seeing how much he's hurt her he repeats himself over and over in a drunken slur, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Well, I'm sorry to Michael." She says, gathering herself she slides into her car and drives off before he has a chance to stop her.

She manages to get a quarter mile down the road before she slams on breaks and peers through the rearview mirror. She sees him running after her throw her tears.

He falters and her breath catches in her throat and before she knows it she's running to him. Her high heels slow her down and she can't seem to get to him fast enough.

He gingerly rises off the ground back onto his feet facing the opposite direction of her. He never saw her coming. He reaches his hand under his suit jacket, behind his back to where his concealed weapon was tucked in his pants. Pulling out his handgun, he puts it to his head and pulls the trigger.

"MICHAEL!" She screams with all her might.

BANG!

She sees the flash from the gun as it fires right before her eyes. Her heart clinches in her chest as he falls to his knees. His gun falls limp from his fingers to the pavement with a loud clink.

She flings herself around him and he latches on to her. She's too stunned for words. Her hands grasp both sides of his head searching frantically for the wound and finds none.

She finally looks him in the eyes and finds him staring into her own. A smile crosses his face as tears leak from his eyes. A look of pure happiness is on his face as hers looks like she can burst into tears again.

She shakes him hard. Screaming, "What the hell were you doing?"

He tells her breathlessly, "I couldn't bear to live without you again."

She throws her arms around him and holds onto him tight. His arms find their way around her. Their bodies quiver and shake with emotion as they hold onto each other for dear life.

Fiona is the first to break the moment as the alarming sound of a police car siren and flashing blue lights in the distance forces her into action. "I would never let you leave me again." She tells him as she wipes the moisture from his face. "I would kill you myself." She adds, dead serious.

She helps pull him to his feet and she pushes him towards her car. She pauses for a moment to collect herself then picks up his gun and quickly catches up with him.

Fiona speeds through the city, taking extra precaution before finally turning down the road that would lead to her apartment.

The trip had been down in silence both of them too emotionally shook up to speak. She hasn't given him his gun back. It's tucked safe in the trunk of her car.

He lets her lead him to her bedroom where she strips him down to his boxers and easies him slowly under the covers of her bed. She checks the locks on the doors one more time and places her own gun within easy reach before sliding into bed next to him.

They lay there for several minutes in the dark listening as random cars would drive by. "Fi?" Michael asks quietly. He thinks she may already be fast asleep when she doesn't answer right away. "Yeah?" She finally replies. "Do you think… I'll ever get back in?" She closes her eyes and swallows the lump that forms in her throat. "Yeah." She whispers back quietly opening her eyes to look at him and watches as he slowly closes his eyes in sleep, a hint of smile upon his face. She cries herself to sleep that night, knowing that her lie, her sacrifice, all of it would be just a dream to him in the morning.

The morning sunshine stings his eyes as he slowly awakens. He moans softly in protest as his head throbs to the same rhythm of his heart.

He covers his eyes with one hand as the other automatically reaches under his pillow and grasps emptiness. He stretches his arm out further. His fingers brush against skin that's not his own and he freezes.

Jerking fully awake he sits up in the bed with one hand shielding the sun from his eyes. He quickly scans the room and sees that he's at Fiona's, his clothes are folded neatly on the dresser and Fiona is awake in bed watching him quietly.

He relaxes slightly and lets himself sink back under the covers, one hand going to rub his forehead against the massive hangover residing there.

"Fiona, have you seen my sig?" He asks after a moment referring to his SIG-Sauer P228. She doesn't answer and he rolls over to face her.

She looks up at him with what appears to be fearful eyes. "No," she breathes turning away from him, forcing herself not to cry.

That's when it hits to him full force. He feels like someone has knocked the breath out of him. He closes his eyes. His hands go up to his head. He feels like he can't breathe.

He gets out bed and begins to pace the room. His legs suddenly feel weak beneath him. He stops, swaying slightly. He doesn't realize Fiona has moved up behind him until he hears her call out his name. "Michael?" She says softly.

His heart seems to beat in his throat. Later he would realize he was having a panic attack but right now he thought he was dying.

He shakes his head in panic. She grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to sit down.

She places a hand on his chest, "Hey," she calls getting his attention. Once his eyes lock on her she puts her lips together and exaggerates her breathing, then commands him, "Calm down. Breathe." He slowly slows down his breathing. He feels lightheaded, a lasting effect of the hyperventilation.

Fiona leaves him for a second and goes into her bathroom and returns, handing him a glass of water. "Here," she hands him two pills then the glass, "drink," she orders. He swallows the pills and half the glass of water. She takes the glass from him and sits it on the night stand.

She slides her hand across his face, feeling the sweat against her finger tips. "You okay now?" She asks quietly. He gives his head a small shake no.

"What do you remember about last night?" Fiona asks, fearing the answer.

"Everything," he breathes his eyes wide with terror. The look upon his face breaks her heart and her trembling hands hold his face between her palms as he places a tender kiss to his forehead as her own tears slip down her face.

If he looked lost last night, he looks broken today. He shudders and lets out a silent cry before he sobs into her chest. It shakes Fiona to her core. And for the second time in her life she feels truly lost. All she can do is wrap her arms around his head, pulling him closer to her bosom and praying they would be okay.

She doesn't know how long she holds him. When he becomes quiet in her arms she realizes the pills she gave him have kicked in. She pulls back and looks into his glazed over eyes.

He whispers softly, voice raw, "What have I done?"

"You're okay. I'm okay. It's okay." She chants.

"I'm so sorry." He tells her sincerely.

For a second she's caught in a flashback from last night but she stops herself.

"Stop." She puts her hand up in a stop motion to tell herself to stop just as much as for him.

"Don't ever-" She puts her fingers to his mouth to stop him from saying I'm sorry one more time. She shakes her head no. "Don't you ever do anything like that again." She seethes. "Do you hear me?"

"I promise."

"Good, because I will kill you myself."

He scoffs then. She doesn't look amused.

He lets out one of his wheezy laughs that she loves so much and then she gets it. "God, you're stoned." She says a smile spreading across her face.

"They were just one Xanax and one Advil." She says seeming surprised. "You are such a light weight." She teases and passes him a box of tissues.

"You better be here when I get back." She calls to him as she goes to wash her face in her bathroom.

When she returns he's lying on his stomach on her bed. She checks to make sure he's not going to smother himself before crawling in beside him.

She dares to move closer to him, longing to have him closer to her. He slides his arm across her hip, then over her stomach and then pulls her to him.

He rolls to his side and snuggles up to her, the top of her head fitting perfectly under his chin. He breathes in her sweet scent.

"Fiona?"

"Hmm?" She vibrates against his chest.

"Would you ever leave me?" He asks softly.

"Only if you leave me first." She breathes.

"That will never happen again." He promises. And she believes him.

She's nearly asleep when he whispers softly in her ear, "I love you so much."

"I love you too Michael." She says sleepily.

"Will you marry me?"

Her eyes shoot open. She had been dreaming.

Alternate Ending

"Will you marry me?"

Her eyes shoot open.

"Michael, are you serious?" Her voice shakes.

"Yes." He replies with honest sincerity.

"No." She breathes out.

"No?" He sounds wounded.

"No. Not like this." She tells him.

"Fi. I can't live without you." He begs to her.

"I can't be the second best thing in your life." She says, her words harsh.

"Fiona-" He begins to argue but she cuts him off.

"Your burn notice. Your life as a spy. Your restlessness-"

"Fiona Glenanne! You are my life!" He shouts out.

She looks shocked. So he repeats it softer this time.

"You are my life!" He enunciates each word carefully, making sure they sunk into that stubborn head of hers.

"And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I realize that now. I can't live without you. I don't want to." He finishes.

Fiona flops her head back against her pillow staring up at the ceiling in disbelief.

Her head lolls to the side to look at him. Her eyes search his face before telling him calmly.

"I want a absurdly huge diamond ring. A new assault rifle. And a… baby." She watches as his eyes lit up at the last request a pleasant look of surprise upon his face.

"I want a family with you Michael. Can you give that to me?"

"I couldn't dream of a more perfect life. I'll try my best. If you'd have me?"

"Yes." She breathes out with smile.

"Yes?" He confirms excited.

"Yes!" She squeals.

The brilliant smile she gives him warms his heart and he never felt more alive.

The End.