Keryl Raist's Blog, page 42

Characters of Note: Wim Brink

On my non-fiction blog... how-to fiction blog? My non-fiction blog about fiction? Whatever, on To Publish Or Not To I review self-published fiction. Every now and again I run into characters that I think are worth letting the rest of the world know about, so...

Say hello to Wim Brink. Wim's the main character in The Dancer's Spell.

He's a unique character, hard to like, but deeply interesting. The Dancer's Spell is set in 1905 as Mata-Hari-mania overtakes Europe. Wim is a devout man, devoted to his family, his church, his job, and entrenched in a stiff 1870s Victorian mind-set. He's a bit of a prig, honestly. And he's very much not the sort of character that wanders into most modern fiction.

I suppose what intrigues me about him is the pitch-perfect voice. He's so repressed and uncomfortable in his own skin, and in relation to the world around him, but he makes no apologies for it. He's an historical character in a piece of historical fiction who seems almost untouched by modern sensibilities. It's rare to see that, most authors seem to be tempted to form their characters into modern molds to make them more appealing to their readers, and rarer yet for that character to be a protagonist.   

So, I don't exactly like Wim, he's not someone I want to hang out with, but I think he is a great example of an author doing a very good job of making a living breathing man out of an idea, and better yet, staying true to the identity and times of that idea.

If you'd like to see the full book review, it's here.

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

Romantic McGee centric NCIS fanfic. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
4.
Tim wakes up to clicking sounds. He's not at all surprised to see Abby sitting cross-legged on the side of his bed, a bag that smells yummy next to her, a laptop in front of her, open to gchat, and, he squints a little, Palmer chatting with her.
"Hey."
"You're awake."
He rubs his eyes, and sits up, slowly. It feels like his entire left side is on fire.
"How's Ducky?" He's a little fuzzy on what exactly happened between saying, 'It feels warm in here,' and now, but he does remember hearing that Tony and Ziva had been located, and Ducky had had a heart attack.
"Alive. Jimmy says he'll be fine, as long as he doesn't do anything stupid."
"Good." He closes his eyes and relaxes back against the head board. The sound of Abby typing dies down, and he hears her close the computer.
"I brought food." She's not as perky as usual. Not chattering away.  He knows that means she's unhappy or scared, but he figures both are fitting for right now, so he doesn't press.
"Thanks."
"The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy today and tomorrow. Nothing too heavy to eat, either.  Clear broth for you. They don't think the glass got through your abdominal muscles, but just in case, they don't want to risk anything too strenuous for your intestinal track.  So I got us Pho. You get the soup part, and I get the noodles."  
"Sounds good." She stands up, picking up the bag. "Abby?"
"Yeah."
"I love you."
She smiles sweetly at him for a moment, but he can still see fear in her eyes, and kisses his forehead. "I love you, too, McGee. Let me get this set for us."
And, okay, that wasn't I love you forever, let's get married, have bunches of kids, grow old, and die together, let alone, I love you, let's start dating again, but it's a start, a good first step, and it felt really good to say it to her.
And there'll be time for more than that it the future.

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Fourth Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week Twenty-four
Fi's explosion knocked Mike, Jesse, and a man named Donovan off their feet. Mike stood up a minute later, head ringing, staring at the smoldering wreck of half a dozen trucks.The only good thing about it was he was expecting something like that, so it took him less time to get his wits about him than it took Donovan."He's found us! Finley's found us! We have to run!" He got the stunned man moving again and glared in the direction he thought Fi would be.
*******************
Hours later, back at their house, they gathered with Sam and Jesse."I think Donovan's convinced that it's time to talk to the Feds. After that explosion, witness protection's sounding awfully good to him. Speaking of which," Michael shifted his glance from Sam to Fi, "I said enough to scare him, not blow half of the trucks in the lot off the planet.""I saw his face, he was scared.""Of course he was scared, and half dead, too! This plan doesn't work if you kill the guy we have to get talking.""There was no danger of that.""No danger?" Mike takes off his shirt, and turns his back to them, showing off the bruises and scrapes from where he landed against the pavement.  He points at Jesse who is holding an ice pack to the back of his head. "Donovan had a bloody nose, ruptured ear drums, and a broken ankle.""Exactly." Fi looks smugly satisfied. "There was a car between you and the main force of the explosion, so you didn't take much of it. Jesse was shielded by it, too. Donovan was in the clear, so he got a full dose. You needed to sell the idea that the dreaded Chuck Finley wanted you both dead, and some real blood and pain does that very well.""Explosions do that, period! You don't have to actually roast the guy.""Guys, we can argue about this later. Right now, Donovan's ready to talk to my Fed, so I think it's safe to say the job is done, and we can put one in the win column," Sam said."Fine," Fi replied. "So tell us what was so important we ended up doing a job less than ten hours after getting home from our honeymoon?""Okay, you remember Blah?""Yeah, we did that job for him to get the information on Nate.""Well, he had an accountant for the Teamster's Union who noticed some suspicious activity on one of the pension funds. That's Donovan. Anyway, he's getting ready to do some whistle blowing when he starts getting the be-a-good-boy, shut-the-hell-up, and we'll-make-it-worth-your-while treatment."So, he's thinking life just got pretty sweet. Nice new car, promotion, all the goodies are heading in his direction if he keeps his mouth shut."So, Blah called me to see if there was a way to go about convincing Donovan that he had to talk, so we came up with the idea of making him think that the big bosses thought he had already talked. We killed the bank account, wired the car to go boom, stuff like that. Which got him so scared he wanted to run. We just needed one more push to convince him he needed to go a step beyond running, and run right into the arms of Blah.""So that's what we were doing?""Yeah. And it looks like it worked, too. He called Blah right after you dropped him off, and supposedly they're talking now.""Great."    **********************
Much later that night, Fi went for a midnight snack. Normally she's not a big snacker, but lately whenever she's awake she feels like eating, and the small person who seems to enjoy punching her in the bladder means she's not sleeping for more than three hours at a time.She's not sure if Michael didn't go to sleep in the first place, or woke up at some point and started messing with the computer. Either way, he's sitting at the breakfast bar, computer in front of him, looking tense."I think it's time we need to keep you away from gunfire and explosions," he says as she opens the door to the fridge."Michael—""I'm serious. No more firing range, no more demolitions, no more C4 until after the baby is born." He turns the computer screen to her. "Look." He plays slow motion footage of the shockwaves of explosions. "I mean, they don't have a ton of information on the effects of explosions on pregnant women or their babies, but the MythBusters crew—""What's a MythBuster?""A TV show. I googled effects of explosions on a fetus and didn't get much. But a lot of clicking around got me to a TV show where they blow stuff up all the time, shoot things every episode, and one of the hosts got pregnant, and they stopped putting her anywhere near anything that went boom.""This is the male equivalent of nesting, isn't it?""I think that's when I start adding the defensive fortifications to wherever we're living. This is just... protectiveness. Think about it, we all know what can happen if you get too close to an explosion, so let's not risk the baby. Donovan was a good hundred meters away from the center of that explosion and you still blew his eardrums out. Imagine what could happen to the baby if you got too close to an explosion."  "Okay, no explosions, but no guns? Really? I'll be bored.""Bored and safe.""This is more of your you-hang-back-and-let-me-do-the-dangerous-stuff, isn't it?""Fi, you're carrying our child.""I'm still perfectly capable of shooting a gun and triggering an explosive.""I'm not saying you aren't. I'm saying I'm going to go completely insane if something happens to you, and worrying about it isn't helping either." "What about you? You think I don't worry about you off doing dangerous stuff, especially without me?"That stops Michael. In truth the answer is no, he doesn't think she worries about him, not when it's about him having to deal with dangerous people, not for the kind of jobs they're doing now. Selling his soul, walking the dark path, and losing what's left of his humanity, sure, he knows she worries about that. Getting into a fight he can't handle? The idea that she might worry about that is both surprising and touching."How about we both take the next six months off? We can offer tactical support for Jesse and Sam, but stay out of any sort of active, get-shot-at, infiltrating sort of role.""You think we can really do that? Sam'll show up with a job, we'll tell him what to do, something will go wrong, and next thing you know you'll be itching to get in costume and go save the day."He shrugs. "True. But we can try."  

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfic

3.
In the movies they might just yank out the piece of glass after discovering that it doesn't appear to be piercing anything vital, slap a few stitches on the wound, and the hero goes back to work, gently oozing blood, saving the day, and winning the girl.
But Tim's not in a movie.
The Ultrasound Tech now has a surgical nurse with her. The nurse eases out the glass, and the tech reports back that there are still something like fifteen little bits of glass in the wound.
The next three hours are a haze of pain, very powerful pain-killers that seem to be making everything in his world distort into drippy colors, and occasional updates as to what is going on with the rest of the team.
When everyone is reported alive and accounted for, he dozes.
And at some point Abby shows up, listens to what the doctor says about his post-recovery care, and takes him home.
He half-dozes, half-gazes at her as she drives to his place.
They didn't so much break up, as just wander apart. Nothing acrimonious, though to some degree Tim doubts anything that involves Abby can get that way. She's just so... Abby... that the idea that she'd be involved in a messy and hurtful break-up just doesn't fit in his world view.
They dated for a few months, slept together a half-dozen times, and then the cases kept coming, and they were working together more and more, and suddenly they were working together full-time, and then they were friends, which worked out pretty well, because at first glance they looked like the perfect couple, but they aren't, or weren't, not really.
Goths and gamers go together like peanut butter and chocolate, like Venn diagrams and Facebook updates, but, and it took a while for Tim to figure this out, Abby isn't a Goth, not the way most of the Goths he met before were.
For most Goths it's a lifestyle. A specifically chosen mode of dealing with the rest of the world, a set path and series of rules for carving out an identity, weeding out those who won't mesh well with oneself, and defining one's interactions with the people around them.
It's a layer of fantasy that protects the inner person, removing those who are likely to hurt or disappoint, by keeping them at arm's length.
Tim needs that fantasy shield. He's got several of them. Elf Lord, Thom E. Gemcity, half-a-dozen online personas, Probie, they're all variations on Timothy McGee, and allow him to experience life with a protective layer in place between him and it.
But Abby isn't a Goth in that sense.  The clothing, the make-up, the coffin, they aren't shields for her, (at least not in that sense, issues of mortality are a different story all together) they're just her.  And when they were dating, he didn't quite get that about her, nor did she really get that he couldn't just be the Elf Lord or Thom or whomever.
But that was nine years ago, and in the intervening almost decade they've learned each other well enough to see the real person there.
And in the intervening nine years, he's always assumed, that eventually, they'd get back together.
Tim and Abby.  Abby and Tim. That's the default setting. Right now they're off messing about with other settings, trying them out, seeing how they work, but when it comes down to it, they'll go back to where they're supposed to be.  After all, they have plenty of time.
Tim gently pokes the bandage on his side.
He's thirty-four. Abby's forty. (Though he's not supposed to mention that, and she's got most people believing she's perpetually 28.) And, as the pain from poking himself slowly registers through the haze of his medication, he's realizing he's not going to live forever. She's not either. And if I love you means let's get married and have kids and grow old together, doing something about it while you're still young enough to have the kids and growing old hasn't already happened is necessary.

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
2.
At the hospital, they very gently peel off his jacket. The nurses in the emergency room don't bother to try to take his shirt off; they just cut it off of him.  Then, with the glass still in his side, they wheel him into a dimly lit room with an ultrasound machine.
The ultrasound tech, who, he's sure, is gently using the wand to see how bad it is, but it feels like he's being pounded by a red-hot hammer, asks him about the tattoo on his left deltoid. She's probably just looking for a way to take his mind off of what she's doing or how much it hurts. Maybe trying to help him not think about the fact that they've got no idea how deep the glass is, and if the only reason he's not bleeding out is because it's still inside him.
He answers on automatic, barely paying any attention to what he's saying. "It's a bit of code I came up with a long time ago."
Tim's a geek. Tim has always been a geek, and he always will be a geek. That's just who he is. But, he's a geek who had already significantly rewritten his life twice by the time Tony, Abby, Kate, and Gibbs came onto the scene, and he had been looking for something to commemorate that. Because, though he was sure he'd continue to find new hats and adventures (for example, adding best-selling author to his list of accomplishments) computer guy is his core identity now.
So, on his shoulder, is a bit of code he wrote for his Masters Dissertation. It's in Python, and though it's not exactly cutting edge now, it was when he came up with it. And it was that bit of code, that allowed him to show his professors how to sort through literally millions of data points to find the pattern they needed to predict where certain sorts of crimes would happen, that set him on this path. Sure, other people had written code to do that before, and others did later, and better. But Tim was the first guy to turn thousands of lines of C++ into three tidy lines of Python, and he was the guy who took it from being a job that took days into a job that took minutes.
Every third sailor has Mom tattooed on his ass. That was the first, quickest lie he could think of when Tony asked because he was sure Tony would have scoffed at what he really got done. (And five years later, when Tony did actually see his tattoo, he did scoff, asking if it was part of his Elf Lord persona, because for all Tony knows about code, or elves for that matter, his tattoo could have been in Elvish.)
And, he didn't get the tattoo just to impress Abby, though that was certainly the final push in that direction. He'd been thinking about it for months at that point. But it did impress her. Which he was very thankful for, because, well, Tim's never been what anyone would call a fine example of male physiology. He's not now, or ever, been known for rippling, sculpted musculature, and even at his fittest, he's tended toward pale and skinny, not buff. And he was not, by about 30 pounds, at his fittest the first time Abby saw that tattoo.
And well, half-naked with a beautiful girl he really hoped to impress isn't exactly Tim's strong suit either. So, yes, when she saw it, shortly after taking his shirt off and stopped everything to spend twenty minutes discussing it with him, not only was it a way to impress her that didn't involve sucking in his stomach and desperately trying to look like he'd worked out at least once in the previous year, it also helped him to relax, and both of them had a better time in the long run because of it.

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Third Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



During the twenty-third week, as they met for lunch, Sam said to Jesse, "Want to go on a road trip with me?""Road trip? You mean you and me driving across the country having wild adventures, picking up hot babes, and constantly dousing ourselves in beer?""Not exactly, though I'm always up for beer. I tracked down my wife, and I was hoping to see about getting a divorce.""Wait, you're married?" Jesse looked stunned, like he'd just been told the sun was green."It's a long story. Here's the short version: I'd like to not be married anymore.""You and Elsa getting serious?""Mike and Fi got married, and yeah, it's got me thinking, and I think it's got her thinking, too. So, if something comes up, I don't want to have to explain this particular skeleton in my closet." And that, even more than the idea of Sam having an estranged wife, boggles Jesse's mind. As he thinks about it, and gets over the shock that Sam, Sam, might be thinking of wedding bells, another thought comes to mind. "So, why do you need me?"Sam shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. "I don't really. But company would be nice, and a ten hour drive goes a whole lot faster with two people driving."That sounds like some of the story is missing. Like it's a ten hour drive to... well, he can't think of anywhere particularly dangerous ten hours by car from here, but something like that. "Where is she?""Little, middle of nowhere town in Georgia."That doesn't sound too bad. "And you just want me to drive?""Well, if things don't go too smoothly, an extra set of hands would be nice." And there's the catch. "Uh huh. And what flavor of not smoothly are you thinking might happen?""She's got a new husband, who probably doesn't exactly know I exist and isn't likely to be too happy about it." "Might not be too happy? 'I'm sorry, dear. Did I forget to mention I'm married to someone else and we've been committing a felony for the last ten years?'" "It should be fine. I'm thinking if you can make sure I've got a few hours alone with her, I can get the paperwork done, divorce taken care of, and Mr. Palmer and the rest of the law never needs to know about this.""How are you going to get a divorce done in a few hours?" Sure, Jesse isn't a lawyer, or have a lot of experience with divorce, but he's never heard of one going that fast. "Turns out if you haven't spoken to a person in thirty years, don't have any property in common, and no kids, the paperwork is actually pretty easy. Just gotta get her to sign a few things, I'll send them in, and we'll be done.""Uh huh. Why do I feel like we'll get there and this Palmer guy will be 6'6" and try to kill us?""Hey, just because it always works out that way doesn't mean it will this time. Besides, I think Mike's the bad luck. Him being around 'causes easy jobs to go haywire. But he's in France with Fi, so we'll be fine.""Famous last words."
******************
After lunch on Wednesday, as they crossed the border between Florida and Georgia Jesse asked, "So really, how did you end up married?""You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?""Uh huh.""Well, not marriage licenses. We were young and stupid and it was a joke, until it wasn't. The first six months were good, but then I ended up on a float for a year, home for six weeks, off again for six months, and by the time I got home again, she had moved on and was living with one of my buddies.""Ouch.""Yeah. Soon as I found out, I got myself assigned to pretty much anything and everything outside of the States. Wasn't home for more than two weeks at a time for six years, and by that point I'd lost track of her. Since I didn't plan on getting married again, there was no rush to get a divorce. And until Veronica asked me to marry her—""Who's Veronica?""One of the ladyfriends I was serious about. About five years ago.""And she asked you to marry her?""What can I say? I really am that good." Sam gives Jesse his Sam Axe charm smile, and Jesse laughs. "Anyway, until she asked me to marry her, I hadn't really thought of it.""And then it bit you in the ass.""Like a barracuda. I still limp some days because of it. I haven't told Elsa about it. Things are going well with us; I've got nothing planned this week, though officially you and I are on a job, so taking care of it seemed like a good idea.""On the off chance she asks, what job are we on?""We're scouting a safe house for Mike and Fi. All the details of the trip stay the same, but we're just doing this to look at the house, not divorce the lady who lives inside of it.""Good cover.""I hope so.""And this Mr. Palmer?""Neil Palmer. He owns the lumber mill that's keeping most of the town going. He should be at work all day. Which should give me time to talk to Amanda and get this taken care of.""So, what, I just hang around outside the mill, keep an eye on him, and give you a call if he moves?""Exactly. Google maps says the mill is forty minutes from their house, so it's not like I'll be cramped for time on getting out of there.""Jobs that are supposed to be this easy make me nervous, Sam.""Yeah, I know. That's why I'm not doing this on my own."Two hours later, as they drove past the mill, the very obviously closed mill, Jesse looks at Sam and says, "So much for Mike being the jinx. Now what?""Hell." Sam stops the car. "Gather intel, I guess. There's a diner over there, let's get something to eat and ask some questions."They went in, got coffee and in Sam's case a club sandwich, fries, and a piece of apple pie, and in Jesse's just a burger, and listened in on the conversations around them. The good news was Neil Palmer was unlikely to be even remotely bothered by Sam and Jesse's arrival. The bad news was the plant was closed for his funeral.Back in the car Jesse says, "You have the worst timing ever.""Or the best. Without a husband around, I can just mail this to her. No need to worry about Palmer seeing the papers now.""Twenty hours in a car to mail her divorce papers?""I'm not going to her home during his wake to ask for a divorce.""I get that, just, that's a long car ride for nothing.""We can get beer, and you can get babes on the way home."Jesse stares at Sam for a long time. "You must be in love. No babes for you?""Not this time. But I'm always in favor of beer. Come on, there's a great place in Tallahassee, just three hours from here."  

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

1.

There haven't been a whole lot of watershed moments in Tim McGee's life.

The shift from bio-medical engineering to forensic computing; that was one. He never quite fit in with the bio-med kids. Sure he got the basic ideas, and he was good at them, but while they were in love with creating new tech to extend life, he was more into the puzzle of how everything fit together. He felt like a physicist in a room of mathematicians. He spoke the same language, used the same tools, but he didn't want to do the same things with them. So, one night, long, long after the regular students had gone to bed, hung over or still drunk from epic parties, the sorts of which he never attended, he was talking with another gamer, the conversation started with the pros and cons of tabletop roleplaying versus MUDs and whatnot and moved from there into what you could really do with a computer. That conversation pointed him in a new path. He began to fiddle with the computer he used mostly for gaming, took a few CS courses, and graduated with a 4.0 in Biomedical Engineering. But he sent a note to Columbia, telling them he was declining the position he'd earned in their Biomedical Engineering combined Masters Doctorate program.

That summer he started playing with a computer in a new way. He put the games down and began to program. It was the late 90s, hackers were the bleeding edge of geek culture, and he found a new home. He took a year "off," programmed until his eyes felt like they'd fall out of his head, and applied to MIT.

He fit in with the hackers at MIT lot better than the bio-med kids at John Hopkins. Obsessive personalities with a penchant for fantasy made up the majority of his new peers, and for the first time in his life he wasn't a minority.

When he finished his masters, the CIA, FBI, NSA, and IRS all courted him. He thinks it was just sheer perverse cussedness, and maybe a desire to get his father to actually notice he was alive and stop seeing him as a massive disappointment, that got him to pick NCIS.

And it was there, during his first year at NCIS that he really began to understand what he was doing. The shift from forensic computing as a cool way to prove to other hackers that he was better and brighter than they were to seeing it as a way to solve crime and help real, live, tangible human beings was, up until this moment, the watershed moment of his life.

But now, he's standing in front of his desk, sweltering, his head still ringing from the explosion, staring at the chunk of glass sticking out of HIS FREAKING BODY, and Gibbs, unflinching, unflappable Gibbs is looking worried, and touching him tenderly, which actually scares him more than THE GLASS STICKING OUT OF HIS ABDOMEN, he's thinking that this is actually the watershed moment of his life.

And it's time to see about making some changes.

Assuming he gets the chance to do so. Gibbs, gently, gets him sitting down, back against the surprisingly undestroyed wall of his desk, tells him to stay put, and runs (RUNS!) off to get an EMT.

Tim looks at the glass again, and finds himself thinking that he never properly told Abby he loved her, then he realized that he didn't know if she's okay... No, she had to be okay, Gibbs wouldn't have been just wandering about if Abby wasn't okay... and then everything sort of grayed out and went sideways.

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Second Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week twenty-two
"Mike!" Sam sounds panicked, and he can hear cars bustling by on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, Sam." Image: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lq0... got trouble. You've got to get here, fast." Mike's at home, debating what to do for dinner. He slams shut the fridge."Okay, tell me what's going on. Where are you?""I'll text the address. Just get here fast.""Should I bring Fi?""No! Just get here."A second later an address is on his phone, and he's sprinting to the car, while tucking a gun under his belt. He doesn't know the address, but the GPS takes care of that. It's non-descript part of town, a mix of shops and small businesses. Sam and Jesse aren't even supposed to be on a job right now. The wedding is tomorrow. They're supposed to be out with Sean tonight.What the hell could be happening? God, did someone recognize Sean? He's on half a dozen government watch lists.He's driving like a maniac, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He skids to a stop in front of Jesse, Sam, and Sean, and they're all grinning at him like dopes.He pries his fingers off the steering wheel, forcing his heart to stop pounding, recognizing that this cannot be bad."So, what's this emergency?" he says through gritted teeth as he gets out of the Charger.Jesse grins even wider. "Can't have a bachelor party without the groom.""Come on, Mikey, it's not like we can let you get married tomorrow without a proper send off.""Let him breathe, lads. He's just had a bit of a scare. He made it here in nine minutes; that's some awfully fast drivin'."It occurs to him that as he was sprinting out of the house, Fi didn't ask him any questions or offer back up."Fi knows about this?"Sam smiles again. "Of course. And I don't even want to think about what she's doing with your mom tonight. Our instructions were to show you a good time, and make sure you got to the wedding on time and fairly sober tomorrow."Sam hands him a beer, seemingly conjured from nowhere. Sean looks down the street and sees headlights coming toward them. "And the drunken debauchery begins."A limo stops in front of them. Sean opens the door and Sam and Jesse shove Mike, shaking his head, inside.
*********************
The dress actually was white.  But Fi likes white dresses, so the fact she'd pick one for her wedding wasn't exactly a shock to anyone involved. [image error] The suit wasn't black. Michael doesn't have a black suit anymore, and his charcoal one was last worn to Nate's funeral. Michael didn't want to put on his charcoal suit, either. It reminded him of funerals, and this wasn't a funeral sort of day. So the groom wore dove gray. He's surprised by how much he misses Nate today. When he found out Nate was married, he hadn't felt any sense of loss from not being there for that. Mostly he'd just felt a sense of exasperation that Nate had made yet another bad choice. But today he feels the lack of Nate very sharply, and the sense that he should be here, with Sam and Jesse, has a powerful grounding effect.Michael's not nervous. This is the right thing, at the right time, and so no, there are no jitters, no sense of a door slamming shut on something, or a desire to flee. There's calm, and joy, and anticipation, because he is looking forward to seeing Fi, and sorrow, because there should be another man standing next to him, a man who will never be here again, and that loss can't be glossed over.He guesses that means today is a fitting microcosm of all of life. Joy, pain, excitement, and as he stands there waiting, a bit of boredom. He guesses that's appropriate for a rite designed to celebrate two lives becoming one. They weren't actually in the church, though they are in the garden behind it. He waits underneath the trees, sunlight dappling about and a warm breeze whispering through the flowers. Sam and Jesse are with him, and a tiny collection of friends sit on a few stone benches beside them. Michael thinks about all the ways this could have happened, and decides that here, with a few of their friends, and the family they've built since coming to Miami, is exactly how it should be.Fiona walks in with his mom and her brother escorting her, and the half-dozen friends stand up for her. He thinks about how beautiful she is. How the dress seems to slip and shift along luscious curves, and her hair cascades down her shoulders and back. It's not a terribly original thought for a groom, but it's deeply sincere. He thinks about how, though he was engaged before, that Fi is the only woman he ever imagined standing in front of a priest saying the, 'Til death do us part,' to.  Fi joins him, holds his hands, and the priest begins to speak.They didn't write their own vows, because what words could possibly hold up to the actions of their past? They are bound by death, blood, fire, love, and now, a new life. That's all there, and always will be, and no words can sum that up, tie it in a tidy bow, or give it completion or meaning. So Michael parrots the priest's words; words worn old by thousands of repetitions, and made new by the addition of his voice and Fi's. He slips the ring on her finger as she does his, motions, like the words, older than either of them, yet new because this is the first, only, time either of them has done it. And the kiss that follows is not new, even if it is their first kiss as husband and wife, but it is tender, and filled with history and respect, and love, and a promise of a future that will go on for as long as both of them draw breath.
*************************
Fi and Mike are dancing. So are Sam and Elsa. Ricky's dancing with his wife. Even Barry has a girlfriend.Jesse's at the bar, a scotch neat in front of him, and no girl anywhere nearby.Sean Glenanne sits next to him. "You look like a man who could use a drink."Jesse holds up his still three quarters filled glass."Not a drink then. So, what's wrong?""Trying to remember what," he gestures with his glass to Mike and Fi, and the way Mike has one hand cupped around Fi's face, the other on her belly, as they sway to the music, "that felt like.""Been a while since you've had a girlfriend?""That's putting it mildly. I had a friend I was working with, thinking I might ask her out, but she got re-assigned and shot that to hell.""Reassigned? You can travel, what's the problem?""To Pakistan.""That's a problem.""Yeah. What about you? A Mrs. Glenanne at home?""Only my mum. This line of work, not too many women around.""I get that. We used to joke about women in CIFA being ghosts, sure everyone knows someone who's seen one, but they're never around.""Where I'm from, the women almost never get involved. Mostly they stay on the edges, providing some support and blind eyes when needed. I wonder sometimes, what would have happened to Fi if Claire had lived. I wonder if she would have ended up like my mum and all the other IRA girlfriends, married at seventeen or twenty, with a pile of kids by the time they hit middle age.""I have a hard time imagining Fi like that.""Now-a-days, I do, too. But before, she was our Fiona, and it was our job to keep the footballers and hooligans away.""And after?"Sean shook his head. "Pat and I met this bloke at a bar. He was from Kilkenny and had a rep for safe cracking and demolition. We took him to meet her, because she was better than either of us at that, and she'd tell us if he was as good as he said he was.""Was he?""Apparently. Sixteen years later, he's my brother-in-law." "Does that mean you failed or succeeded when it came to looking out for your sister?"Sean smiles. "Buggered if I know. They look happy, don't they?""Yeah, they do." 

38 Weeks: The Twenty-First Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



When Michael first met Fi, he was awash in instantaneous lust and attraction. He might have even called it love, back in the day. Knowing how he feels about Fi now, he'd call it lust, though that isn't quite the right word, either. He doesn't have a good word for it. It was different than anything he had ever felt for any woman before, and vastly different from anything he's felt for anyone, since. He was thirty when they met, so it's not like he was some teenager who had never seen a girl before. He'd been 'round this particular block a few times, and had certainly thought he'd been in love before. If nothing else, the fact that he had a fiancée back in St. Petersburg should have been a hint that he thought he knew what love was.He didn't. Not then. Not after he met Fi. Not when he shot Strickler, though he certainly thought that was love. Not until over fourteen years later when he saw how much she loved him, saw her walk into FBI custody for him, and realized he was no less devoted to her, and that no matter what, he would spend the rest of his life proving that devotion.But he did know that whatever that feeling that spread through him like the blood in his veins or the electrical impulses along his nerves the first time they met was, it wasn't the safe, rational, exuberant sensation other women had filled him with. What he had with Fi didn't make sense. It broke all the rules he'd been trained in and lived by, and he relished every moment of it until Card dragged him out of Ireland.During that time, while he and Fi were wrecking mayhem through Northern Ireland and Europe, the idea that she had a family wasn't something terribly solid in his mind. She was so uniquely her own, the idea that other people may have shaped her didn't intrude in his mind. She was so wild, so devil-may-care, the idea that there were people she was bound to, people who would miss her if she didn't show, who she would miss if they vanished, never occurred to him.Sure, he knew she had brothers, he met her through them, but parents, nephews and nieces, and sisters-in-law were all concepts that he hadn't bothered to think much about.Until, about nine months after they had met, she invited him home for Sunday dinner. Which was when he met Katherine Glenanne for the first time.A bit over fifteen years later, and she hasn't changed much. She's still short, slim, and proud, though auburn-streaked white hair had gone completely white during the intervening years. It occurs to him that she has to be at least seventy, if not seventy-five, but she doesn't look that old. He catches sight of her and Sean before she sees them, before Fi does. He nudges her, leading her attention toward the baggage claim area of Miami International. Fi nods, squeezes his hand, and they begin walking toward her mother and older brother.Sean sees them, and breaks into a grin. Katherine begins to smile, too, as she sees Fi. They move more quickly, and soon there are hugs, and sooner yet, post-hug pulling away in shock.Sean is grinning, which makes Michael a lot more comfortable. He wasn't looking forward to fighting the man. "Did I not tell ya, Ma?""And so you did. I was still hopin' you were wrong. Well then, when is the little one due?""End of August," Fi says to her mother, and then turns toward Sean. "And what do you mean, 'Did I not tell ya?'""Please, Fi, it's been sixteen years since you two met, and now you're suddenly gettin' married less than two months after you get engaged? Of course there's a baby on the way!" He pets her stomach affectionately. "I was thinkin' you wouldn't be quite so far along. Been teasin' Ma about it for three weeks now." "It would have been nice to have had at least one of ya married for more than a year before the first baby showed up.""Still might happen, Ma, Allan and I aren't married, yet.""And knowin' you two, ya never will be.""Now that's just harsh, Ma. Allan's right sweet on Kelly Anne, and rumor has it he'll be askin' her a serious question 'round about her birthday." Maybe to change the subject, or maybe because it seemed rude not to say anything directly to him, Sean said, "So, Michael, how are you?""I'm well, Sean. Thanks. Good trip?""Lovely. You'll have to thank whichever friend it was that got me that fake passport. Got straight through security with no problems.""Good, Sam will be glad to know it worked.""Sam did that for me?""Yes."  "I told you about Sam, right Ma?""A few times. He's one of Fi's marvelous Yank friends. I didn't know he did documents.""He can and does, but not too often," Fi answered. For a moment they all stood there quietly. It occurs to Michael that Katherine hasn't said anything to him yet, and that they're all just standing there in the airport."Let me go get your luggage. Then we'll take you to my mom's house." He heard Fi explaining to her mom and brother about why they weren't going to be staying at their place. Not only is the guest room not ready for anything besides wiring explosives, but they've decided not to do anything more with the place. The rent is paid up for the next two months, and after that...They haven't decided where they're going after that, but somewhere far away from Miami.The drive to his mother's house feels oddly relaxed and tense. Sean is chattering away with both him and Fi, but Katherine is very quiet. It could be she's tired. Belfast to London to New York to Miami isn't a quick trip, and at her age it must seem even longer. It could be the fact that it was in the high fifties and drizzling when she left, and that was a fairly warm day, and now she's way overdressed for topical Miami. But mostly Michael can feel the weight of the words Katherine Glenanne isn't saying to him. Words she's been waiting to say to him for years, at least six of them probably, and he's not looking forward to that.He pulls in and leads them into the house where he grew up. Sam and his Mom are waiting to meet the Glenannes.Sean sees them and lights up. "Ma, this is Madeline Westen and Sam Axe, and the only reason I'm still here, breathin', is because these two pulled two bullets out of me, and then Ms. Madeline let me recover in her home," Sean says as he sweeps Maddie into a warm hug, then shakes Sam's hand.Madeline's greetings are warm, effusive, and for the first time Michael sees a real smile of pleasure on Katherine's face. Maddie bustles her off a few minutes later, saying something about how she must be so hot in all that clothing, and getting changed into something more comfortable.

*******************************"Is this your first grandchild?" Katherine asks as Madeline shows her to the room she'll be staying in. Once upon a time it was Michael's, but it's been completely redone since those days."No, Charlie, Michael's brother's son, is almost two now. You?""Seventeen, counting this one.""Seventeen?" Maddie says, in disbelief.Katherine takes it at surprise that there are so few of them, though Madeline meant it in response to how many there were. "Normally there'd be more for a family our size, but Sean and Allan haven't married, yet.""How many children do you have?" Fi doesn't talk much about her family, and it occurs to Madeline she has no idea how many brothers and sisters Fi might have."Has Fi not told you she's one of seven?""Seven?" The idea of Fi amid that many brothers and sisters staggers Maddie."Five boys, two girls.""I didn't know Fi has a sister.""Had. Our Claire died back in '85.""Oh. I'm sorry.""So were we. But that's long past and a dark topic for a happy day. Will we be meeting your grandson and other son?""No. Nate, my son, died last year. Charlie lives with his mother in Las Vegas.""I'm sorry. That's the dark part of a hard road. I can tell you it gets better, but I know you won't want to be hearin' that yet.""No, not yet. But thank you. So, tell me about your grandchildren..."
**********************
A while later, as he tends the steaks on the grill, Michael hears, "And I get off the plane, lookin' for Fi, and there they are, bold as brass and pregnant to boot! She hadn't said anything to any of us about it. Just, 'We're gettin' married, come to Miami, you'll enjoy the sun.'""I swear you could call those two 'Need to know only', I've been with them six years, hiding clients, letting them interrogate suspects in my garage. I went on the run with them when things went crazy last fall." Madeline gestures to the sun room, "That's where your son recuperated after I helped Sam pull a bullet out of him, but do they tell me anything? Not if they can possibly avoid it!""I'd be knowin' all about that. 'Protectin' me!' Like I didn't meet their father helpin' to smuggle explosives past the English! You'd think that one," she pointed at Sean, "invented explosives with the way he'd try to hide what they were doin' from me. Or that one, and the way she was always 'headin' off to Church.' Headin' off to political meetin's was more like it. And I was just supposed to sit there and knit and smile about it." The term, 'getting on like a house on fire' occurs to Michael as he watches his mom and Fiona's commiserate about dealing with children like them. It also occurs to him how good it would be for his mom to have someone closer to her age, someone who had shared some of the same experiences, how she could really use a friend."Michael?" His mom calls out."Yeah, Ma?""How long 'til supper's ready?"He pokes one of the steaks. "They're ready to come off now, so ten-twelve minutes before we can eat them.""Good, I'll get the table set."
 **********************
Hours later, after dinner, after dessert, after stories of Ireland, many of which Sam, Jesse, and his mother had never heard or imagined hearing, Katherine says, "Michael, come talk with me." He's been dreading an alone conversation with Fiona's mom, but it's inevitable.He follows her outside to the back porch."So what sort of name is Westen?" she says as she inhales on a cigarette, yet another similarity with Madeline. "American.""Don't give me that. All of you Americans are from somewhere else, originally.""I was born here, in Miami. This is the house I grew up in. You're staying in what used to be my room." The look she's pointing at him is very eloquently stating that he's not answered her question. "English.""Mary, Mother of Jesus, a half-English grandbaby.""Half-American. I was born here, my father was born in Tallahassee, his father was from Atlanta, and his father, as well. Before that I'm sketchy on the details, but I do remember my grandfather talking about his grandfather fighting in 'The War of Northern Aggression.'" He realizes that means nothing to Katherine. "The 1860s. My mother was born here. Her parents moved south from New York during the Depression." Another blank look. "The early '30s. We've been here long enough no one remembers the story of how we got here. We're Americans." Katherine seems to think about that for a moment. Of course, everyone else in her family is not only Irish, but Irish so far back that the idea that they may have ever come from anywhere else is utterly alien. He's not sure if him being a Yank is something Katherine likes about him or holds against him.She stares at him for another long moment before saying, "Fiona loves you, and you're the father of my granddaughter, so I will never treat you with anything but respect, but I want you to know that when I look at you, I see the man who looked me in the eye and lied to me about a murdered sister, a hatred of the English, and a life-long devotion to the cause. You sat in my home, drank my ale, ate my food, enjoyed my company, and lied to me about everything in your life. I will never forget that, and though I will never do anything to make your child think less of you, I will also never trust you."Michael took a deep breath and said, "Fair enough.""You never had a sister." It's the statement that gets to the heart of their relationship. That was his planned in with the Glenannes. If any family would be moved by an orphan with a taste for revenge based on a murdered sister, they'd be it."No sister. Just a brother, and he died last year.""Your mum mentioned that." She's staring up at him, and he's got a clue as to what she's expecting from him."The first time I got to Ireland was three months before I met Pat and Sean. I was sent there to make contacts in the IRA and divert members who were passionately interested in making sure the war didn't end to other ends." The CIA had picked the Glenanne lads because they weren't major targets, but ran with men who were. "Other ends?""Some of them ended up as CIA or MI5 assets. Some of them ended up dead. Some of them vanished into the Middle East or Colombia. If Ireland was going to calm down, the biggest troublemakers had to get out, so I helped to get them out."I'm not from Kilkenny. I've only been there twice, the first time to memorize as much of the place as I could, the second with Fi when I was showing her what was supposed to be my hometown." They'd done that up right. He even had three "locals" recognize him, and talk about his past and family."I was never part of the Royal Welch Fusiliers." His military background had to come from somewhere, so the Brits were willing to dummy up a service record for him, fairly similar to what he really had done, just for them, and ending with a dishonorable discharge for suspected sabotage. "I didn't join up with them to learn their tactics and use them against them. I wasn't ever a mercenary." Supposedly, after being booted by the Brits, he had vanished into South America as a merc, and from there to Afghanistan, and from there all over the world. He came back to Ireland and the IRA after his "sister" was killed. "I was in Afghanistan in the '80s. And a lot of other places, though mostly Russia. I've never worked demolitions, though I was an explosives expert for the US Army Rangers. I've never been a professional safe-cracker, though I've certainly done enough of it to fake it. "I was with the Rangers until 1987. Then with the CIA until 2006. Freelancing, for lack of a better word, since then.  "I am a patriot, just not an Irish one."And I never lied to you about loving your daughter.""You left her all the same.""I did. And I've been lucky enough that she forgave me that.""And how do I know you're stayin' now?"Given what she knows about him, that's not a bad question. He thinks of a lot of different answers and discards them. 'You don't, but she does,' probably isn't going to do the job here."This time, I put the ring on her finger. And five days from now, I'll stand up before you, her, my mother, your son, all of our friends, our child, a priest, and God, and promise to be here for the rest of her life."Katherine nods. That answer might not kill her fears, but she's a fair woman at heart, and knows that's as good as it's going to get.

A/N: I spent a while trying to think of who would be a good Mum for Fiona and found that shot of Helen Mirrin. I like this quite a bit and think it works.

38 Weeks: The Twentieth Week

Screencap from http://shecapsthat.fanfusion.orgA/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week Twenty
It turns out there are some things pregnant ladies are really, really good at. Watching someone. No one expects the pregnant lady to be a tail.Smuggling things. You can fit an awful lot of goodies in a few bags from Babies 'R' Us and no one bothers to search them.Blending into the background. Even though a beautiful pregnant woman will certainly attract a lot of attention, it's not the sort of attention that thinks, "Gosh, I need to be careful about this."The downside of using a pregnant lady on certain ops, is that the pregnant lady's husband-to-be turns into a quivering nerve ready to leap up and destroy anything that might get too close to said lady or baby."Mike, if you don't calm down, you are going to blow this. She's fine, brother." Sam says from his perch on the roof of the nearest high rise, sniper rifle at the ready."I can't see her, Sam.""Yes, but I can, Jesse can, and if you keep acting like you're doing anything other than reading the paper and getting a coffee Shannon will sense that something is up. So keep calm, let her do her thing, and in an hour we'll have Shannon tied up in knots."Shannon was the end of a long and messy con-job gone awry. Fi had been trailing her through the mall, waiting to plant certain stolen goods on her, goods that had previously belonged to Shannon's boss, and if everything went well, that boss would soon be meeting Mike to learn about who was skimming profits off of his organization. Fi got closer and closer, and then, a few steps in front of Shannon, seemed to trip and drop her bags. Shannon almost tripped over her, and in the confusion Fi was able to swap out the contents of one of her bags for Shannon's. Fifteen thousand dollars of "missing" cash changed hands."She's done, Mike. Jesse's got her, and Clayton is on the way."Mike smiled, put his game face on, and sipped his coffee. Time to take care of Shannon.
*****************************
Two days later, sitting in the half-lit ultrasound room at the OB's office, Michael is a lot more calm. Excited, definitely, but there's no edge of fear here.Today, assuming Baby Westen is in an accommodating mood, they'll find out if it's a girl or boy. This time, because Fi's far enough along, and because they've done this before, there's no sense of weirdness because of what the Tech is doing to Fi.No, today there's just excitement at seeing lines resolve themselves into images, feet, hands, a head, a face and... "Is it a boy?" Fiona asks.The tech, Judy maybe, her name is something like that, smiles. "No, that's the umbilical cord." She moves the wand around a bit, and finally says, "I don't see any testicles. That's a little girl."Until that moment, Michael had been doing a very good job of not desiring any particular type of child. Until they had decided to keep her, he had done everything he could to not imagine what it may have been, but at that moment he decided a daughter was exactly what he wanted, what he had always wanted, and that it was likely he's never going to want something else the way he wants this.It's a good feeling.He kisses Fi's temple, and wonders if she's thinking the same thing, because he notices there are tears in her eyes and she's smiling beautifully as she looks at their little girl.

******************

When they got to his Mom's house, she was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at brochures for more adoption agencies.

"I think you might have some luck with this one." She holds up a tri-fold with an image of a smiling baby on the front.

Fi sits down next to Maddie, and Michael takes his mom's hands, crouching in front of her.

"We're keeping her, Ma."

For a second his mother's face is blank, like she almost can't believe she's heard Michael say that, then tears start, and she's kissing Mike, after a second she pulls back, wipes her eyes, smearing mascara and eyeliner all over the place, and says, "Thank God you two came to your senses!" She leans over, hugs Fi, kissing her as well.

Then Maddie grabs her lighter and the brochure, sets it on fire, grinning the whole time, takes the smoking, flaming paper, and sets it in the sink.

She's beaming at them as tendrils of smoke waft about her.

"Wait, did you say "her?" You had a doctor's appointment today, right?"

"Yes. It's a girl, Maddie." Fi's beaming her own high watt smile at Maddie.

 Maddie takes a deep breath, and then starts to giggle. "Oh, a little girl. I can't wait to see Michael deal with that." She breaks into full-on laughing.

"You know I'm right here, right?" Mike says.

Ignoring Mike, talking to Fi, Madeline says, "I can just imagine how terrified her poor first boyfriend is going to be." Fi breaks into a grin at that idea.

"Or Sam..." Maddie holds her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggles. "He's going to go into insane Grandpa mode and spoil that little girl rotten."

Madeline pulls both of them close and hugs them again. The manic laughter fades away, and for a long time she just holds them close. 

Finally, she kisses them both again and says, "Thank you."