Burn Notice fic: "Prelude to something" (PG)
Title: Prelude to something.
Author: Keenir.
Fandom: Burn Notice.
Warning: none.
Rating: PG.
Characters: Detective Paxson, Michael Weston; brief Sam Axe.
Summary: Paxson sits down for a chat with Michael, and they start to work something out.
takes place after 3.01, before 3.02 3.02 airs in a day and a half.
Disclaimers: I own none of the characters.
Notes: This started out as just between-episodes filler...but then my Michael and Paxson muses took over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, Sam, how are things going - with you and the daughter of my mom's neighbor?"
"Pretty good, actually, though there's something I need to ask you...uh oh, Mike," Sam said, "Here comes trouble."
"Detective Paxson?" Michael asked, taking a reasonable guess.
"Right behind you, Mister Weston," Paxson said. "I'd like a moment of your boss' time, Mr Axe, so if you don't mind," never taking her eyes off Michael.
"I don't know," Sam said.
"Unlike some people in Miami, I have no inclination to spirit Mr Weston away on a helicopter."
"Plane? Train? Automobile?" Sam asked.
"It's okay, Sam," Michael said. And once Sam had left them alone outside this little beachside eatery - everyone else was inside since the clouds overhead were threatening to rain at any moment - "So, Detective," Michael said, "pull up a chair. What can I do for the police today?"
Sitting down at the little table, Detective Paxson took off her sunglasses which Michael suspected were police-issue rather than over-the-counter brand. "I'm off-duty, Mr Weston, which is why I came here alone."
"Then please, it's Michael."
"Fiona Glenanne might have fallen for that boyish charm when you first met -"
"Actually," Michael said, wanting to set the record strait, "when we first met, Fi tried to blow me up."
A tiny smile. "Clearly before you spoke to her, then."
"Well, I'd said hi, but other than that, you're right."
"I want you to know that I don't bear you any malice, Mr Weston."
"Michael," he said. "Or I'm walking out of here. And thank you."
"Michael," tasting the name.
"And what's your name, since I can't very well call you Detective Paxson when you're not on duty."
"I'm sure you'd be surprised."
"Please tell me your name isn't Madeline."
"No, that would be my sister."
"My sympathies to her."
Paxson nodded. "I'm investigating you because you broke the law, and -"
"And it's your job to go after lawbreakers. No problem," Michael said. "I completely understand."
"And I know you investigated me," Paxson said.
"Standard procedure. You understand."
Paxson nodded. "And if someone had investigated you while you were on a mission overseas, what would they have found?"
"Exactly what my cover ID said," Michael said. "What, you're a spy too?" Carla, Victor... I'm getting to be a magnet.
Paxson's head didn't move, but her eyes agreed with her lips: "No, that would the family business, and I don't like being in the shadows," and both her and Michael knew the double meaning there: the shadows as in hiding and watching, and the shadows as in the influence of family. "But I thought the segue was appropriate."
"Your father was a spy?"
"Clerk in an embassy. Mom was the spy. She was a..." and decided against it.
"A what? Come on now, don't clam up just when we're starting to get somewhere," Michael enjoined her.
"What would it tell you, Mr Weston? You're unlikely to have ever heard their names. And if I use a trade-specific word to describe my mother's job, well, you might say that I found the word in the local Borders bookstore."
"Unlikely, true," Michael said, talking her statements in order. "And while some might say that, I like giving people the benefit of the doubt. I do hope she wasn't burned."
"She wasn't burned," Paxson said, face twisting at what she was about to say: "but she was strongly encouraged to retire."
"Got a few friends in the office?"
Paxson smiled, relaxing only slightly into her chair. "Why Mr Weston, are you about to ask me to see if my mother can get you reinstated?" amused and offhand.
"Well if you're offering," Michael said just as offhandedly.
"I could probably do something...it'd mean full disclosure on your part - everything relevant to the investigation. No more trying to inundate me with minutia that have no bearing on my work."
Translation: no more telling her all the yoghurts I own or handing over my grocery list unless I used some of the groceries to blow up a car. Makes sense, and that request strengthens her claim. "Sounds good," Michael said just before his phone rang. "Hello?" he asked the caller. "I'll be right there," and shut his cell phone. "Can we pick this up later?" Michael asked Det. Paxson. "I have to run right now."
Paxson nodded. "One week."
Michael nodded; the time was reasonable.
As Michael stood up, Paxson said, "And Mr. Weston, bear in mind that I won't be stopping my investigation in the meantime."
He nodded. "Fair enough," and I wouldn't ask you to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the end
Author: Keenir.
Fandom: Burn Notice.
Warning: none.
Rating: PG.
Characters: Detective Paxson, Michael Weston; brief Sam Axe.
Summary: Paxson sits down for a chat with Michael, and they start to work something out.
takes place after 3.01, before 3.02 3.02 airs in a day and a half.
Disclaimers: I own none of the characters.
Notes: This started out as just between-episodes filler...but then my Michael and Paxson muses took over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, Sam, how are things going - with you and the daughter of my mom's neighbor?"
"Pretty good, actually, though there's something I need to ask you...uh oh, Mike," Sam said, "Here comes trouble."
"Detective Paxson?" Michael asked, taking a reasonable guess.
"Right behind you, Mister Weston," Paxson said. "I'd like a moment of your boss' time, Mr Axe, so if you don't mind," never taking her eyes off Michael.
"I don't know," Sam said.
"Unlike some people in Miami, I have no inclination to spirit Mr Weston away on a helicopter."
"Plane? Train? Automobile?" Sam asked.
"It's okay, Sam," Michael said. And once Sam had left them alone outside this little beachside eatery - everyone else was inside since the clouds overhead were threatening to rain at any moment - "So, Detective," Michael said, "pull up a chair. What can I do for the police today?"
Sitting down at the little table, Detective Paxson took off her sunglasses which Michael suspected were police-issue rather than over-the-counter brand. "I'm off-duty, Mr Weston, which is why I came here alone."
"Then please, it's Michael."
"Fiona Glenanne might have fallen for that boyish charm when you first met -"
"Actually," Michael said, wanting to set the record strait, "when we first met, Fi tried to blow me up."
A tiny smile. "Clearly before you spoke to her, then."
"Well, I'd said hi, but other than that, you're right."
"I want you to know that I don't bear you any malice, Mr Weston."
"Michael," he said. "Or I'm walking out of here. And thank you."
"Michael," tasting the name.
"And what's your name, since I can't very well call you Detective Paxson when you're not on duty."
"I'm sure you'd be surprised."
"Please tell me your name isn't Madeline."
"No, that would be my sister."
"My sympathies to her."
Paxson nodded. "I'm investigating you because you broke the law, and -"
"And it's your job to go after lawbreakers. No problem," Michael said. "I completely understand."
"And I know you investigated me," Paxson said.
"Standard procedure. You understand."
Paxson nodded. "And if someone had investigated you while you were on a mission overseas, what would they have found?"
"Exactly what my cover ID said," Michael said. "What, you're a spy too?" Carla, Victor... I'm getting to be a magnet.
Paxson's head didn't move, but her eyes agreed with her lips: "No, that would the family business, and I don't like being in the shadows," and both her and Michael knew the double meaning there: the shadows as in hiding and watching, and the shadows as in the influence of family. "But I thought the segue was appropriate."
"Your father was a spy?"
"Clerk in an embassy. Mom was the spy. She was a..." and decided against it.
"A what? Come on now, don't clam up just when we're starting to get somewhere," Michael enjoined her.
"What would it tell you, Mr Weston? You're unlikely to have ever heard their names. And if I use a trade-specific word to describe my mother's job, well, you might say that I found the word in the local Borders bookstore."
"Unlikely, true," Michael said, talking her statements in order. "And while some might say that, I like giving people the benefit of the doubt. I do hope she wasn't burned."
"She wasn't burned," Paxson said, face twisting at what she was about to say: "but she was strongly encouraged to retire."
"Got a few friends in the office?"
Paxson smiled, relaxing only slightly into her chair. "Why Mr Weston, are you about to ask me to see if my mother can get you reinstated?" amused and offhand.
"Well if you're offering," Michael said just as offhandedly.
"I could probably do something...it'd mean full disclosure on your part - everything relevant to the investigation. No more trying to inundate me with minutia that have no bearing on my work."
Translation: no more telling her all the yoghurts I own or handing over my grocery list unless I used some of the groceries to blow up a car. Makes sense, and that request strengthens her claim. "Sounds good," Michael said just before his phone rang. "Hello?" he asked the caller. "I'll be right there," and shut his cell phone. "Can we pick this up later?" Michael asked Det. Paxson. "I have to run right now."
Paxson nodded. "One week."
Michael nodded; the time was reasonable.
As Michael stood up, Paxson said, "And Mr. Weston, bear in mind that I won't be stopping my investigation in the meantime."
He nodded. "Fair enough," and I wouldn't ask you to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the end