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femme_ficTitle: In Her Shoes
Author: Missy AKAbring_me_sugar
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild violence; references to child abuse.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters: Fiona Glenanne; Madeline Westen (Also Frank, Michael and Nate Westen and Sam Axe)
Pairing: Madeline/Frank
Recipient: paian
Prompt: Synchronicity
Spoilers: None
Summary: Maddie and Fi have a surprising connection.
Author's Notes: Written for paian for Femme_Fest ’10.
Synchronicity (adj) the collusion of two unrelated events in a way that proves meaningful for those experiencing it.
***
Miami Florida, 1976
She weighed the suede pumps in her hand. Black velvet scoops with small heels and silver rhinestones making silvery patchwork on the toes, ankle straps that snapped closed with silver buttons. Madeline – who was unimpressed with fashion normally - held the shoes in her hand for a minute, contemplating their worth.
Could they afford it? She needed to pay for Michael’s penicillin, and Nate needed a haircut. In her pocket twenty dollars lay, heavy, niggling her sense of sacrifice. Frank had given it to her that very morning, and she had no idea from whence it came.
She rolled the soft velvet surface between her hands. She wouldn’t be able to wear them often; to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, Parent-Teacher conference meetings, and the rare foray to Church.
No, they couldn’t afford that little luxury.
She glanced over her shoulder, back at the rack of shoes. Well…she did need to make a good impression on Frank’s mother at Thanksgiving. And those new open-toed things were what the original missus Westen would call ‘trashy’.
Maddie shrugged to herself before picking up the shoes and placing them in the carriage. It was a treat she’d earned, she reasoned to herself.
***
“Michael, hold still.”
The little boy whined as she tried to spoon the pineapple-scented liquid into his mouth. Michael was an awful patient, the sort who insisted that he was never sick even when he was falling down from a fever. “You smell funny,” he complained, and Madeline took the opportunity and thrust her spoon forward. The liquid flowed into Michael’s open mouth, and the little boy involuntarily swallowed all of it.
“There,” she said in grim satisfaction. “That should hold you until seven. Do you want anything?”
Michael watched her suspiciously from beneath his patchwork quilt. “You’re wearing your nice earrings,” he declared.
“You’re a bright one,” Madeline declared. “What about it?”
“Are you and daddy going out?” She saw her son’s eyes sparkle. Michael seemed to enjoy it so much when Frank wasn’t around, and she found that tragic.
“No, we’re having a nice dinner at home,” she declared.
Michael’s eyes turned bizarrely inscrutable. “He’s gonna be back late,” he proclaimed. “Don called and asked him to come drink beers.”
“How do you know that?” Madeline wondered. Frank hadn’t mentioned anything that afternoon before he’d left for ‘work’.
“Heard him talking on the phone.” He rubbed the side of his head, and Madeline saw the beginnings of a bruise forming on his right ear.
Oh, Michael. Why do you always have to make your father so mad? Maddie wondered. Instead of saying anything, she kissed her son’s ear and tucked him in. “You call if you need something.”
Michael burrowed deeply into the covers, rolling over. “I like your new shoes,” he said to the wall.
Nate, as always, was an easier case, possessing a three a relatively happy disposition. She fixed him a quick Spaghetti-O dinner. Then she put him to bed and fried two steaks for herself and Frank, tossed a green salad and baked potatoes and corn bread. Two bowls of instant chocolate pudding would complete the meal (she hoped Nate hadn’t gotten into the Reddi-Whip again), once Frank got home. Hobbling about the kitchen (those leather straps were much weaker than they looked, and the left one kept snapping itself open when she flexed her ankle), she sat down at a candlelit table and waited.
And waited.
At three, he came in, long after she’d eaten her dinner. “Jesus,” he slurred. As he bent over her for a hello kiss, Frank squeezed her breast and she muffled a disgusted gasp. He shoved down his dinner and went to bed, where he passed out, having noticed nothing about the atmosphere or his wife.
Maddie took the shoes to a second-hand shop the next day. They gave her three dollars for them, and she took that money into the neighboring dollar store.
Among the detritus, she found two small figurines – snow men on skis, swerving down a hill.
Cracking a smile, Maddie slipped them into her shopping cart.
***
Present Day
***
Fiona studied the shoes with trepidation. Were they real vintage Diors or fakes? She held them close to her eyes, studied them for a good four minutes, then shrugged. You could never tell about consignment store merchandise, but these looked so nice on her feet that she didn’t really care if they were fakes or not.
She kept them on her feet as she strolled to the counter with her payment. As she paid for her purchase, her cell chirped, and she fished it out of her pocket. “Hello, Sam.”
“Fi,” he panted. “Code gray! Get down to the wharf now!”
She was all business as she grabbed her receipt. “On it.”
***
How had Sam managed to get himself locked in a burning building? There wasn’t time enough for her to press a dab of C4 to the hinge – drastic measures would have to be taken.
She grimaced as she glanced at her foot. With a shrug, she kicked the door in.
Sam stumbled out of the unit, covered in soot from chin to brow. He coughed as they raced away from it, toward her Saab. “Thanks,” he grunted, accepting the bottle of water she offered him. “We need to regroup. Madeline’s?”
Fiona wanted to find the guy’s illegal goods-filled warehouse and blow it to bits, but regrouping would be healthier for Sam. “I’ll call Michael,” she informed him, as they climbed into the car and she put it in gear.
“Helluva time for Mikey to have the flu,” Sam grunted. He had been recuperating at his mom’s place for safety’s sake.
Fiona just shrugged. “We’ve been handling the case well.”
Sam glared at her. Fi was speeding, which she knew he hated, which she knew would make him extra cranky. She secretly enjoyed it when he was flustered. “Until you decided to teach the Toninis a lesson by burning his coffee plant!”
Fiona ‘accidentally’ accelerated the car, banging Sam into the windshield. He let out a howl of pain. “Oh look, we’re here.”
Madeline gasped as she opened the door. “Sam, do you need anything?”
He flopped down on her kitchen chair. “Just a beer, please,” he begged, putting his head down on the table.
When Madeline did as Sam asked, Fi cursed softly in Gaelic. She propped her foot up and adjusted the buckle on her left shoe.
Madeline looked at Fi, then down at the shoe. She smiled mysteriously, then said something that made Fiona’s brow fork in confusion.
“Careful of the left one. It breaks.”
Author: Missy AKA
bring_me_sugarRating: PG
Warnings: Mild violence; references to child abuse.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters: Fiona Glenanne; Madeline Westen (Also Frank, Michael and Nate Westen and Sam Axe)
Pairing: Madeline/Frank
Recipient: paian
Prompt: Synchronicity
Spoilers: None
Summary: Maddie and Fi have a surprising connection.
Author's Notes: Written for paian for Femme_Fest ’10.
Synchronicity (adj) the collusion of two unrelated events in a way that proves meaningful for those experiencing it.
***
Miami Florida, 1976
She weighed the suede pumps in her hand. Black velvet scoops with small heels and silver rhinestones making silvery patchwork on the toes, ankle straps that snapped closed with silver buttons. Madeline – who was unimpressed with fashion normally - held the shoes in her hand for a minute, contemplating their worth.
Could they afford it? She needed to pay for Michael’s penicillin, and Nate needed a haircut. In her pocket twenty dollars lay, heavy, niggling her sense of sacrifice. Frank had given it to her that very morning, and she had no idea from whence it came.
She rolled the soft velvet surface between her hands. She wouldn’t be able to wear them often; to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, Parent-Teacher conference meetings, and the rare foray to Church.
No, they couldn’t afford that little luxury.
She glanced over her shoulder, back at the rack of shoes. Well…she did need to make a good impression on Frank’s mother at Thanksgiving. And those new open-toed things were what the original missus Westen would call ‘trashy’.
Maddie shrugged to herself before picking up the shoes and placing them in the carriage. It was a treat she’d earned, she reasoned to herself.
***
“Michael, hold still.”
The little boy whined as she tried to spoon the pineapple-scented liquid into his mouth. Michael was an awful patient, the sort who insisted that he was never sick even when he was falling down from a fever. “You smell funny,” he complained, and Madeline took the opportunity and thrust her spoon forward. The liquid flowed into Michael’s open mouth, and the little boy involuntarily swallowed all of it.
“There,” she said in grim satisfaction. “That should hold you until seven. Do you want anything?”
Michael watched her suspiciously from beneath his patchwork quilt. “You’re wearing your nice earrings,” he declared.
“You’re a bright one,” Madeline declared. “What about it?”
“Are you and daddy going out?” She saw her son’s eyes sparkle. Michael seemed to enjoy it so much when Frank wasn’t around, and she found that tragic.
“No, we’re having a nice dinner at home,” she declared.
Michael’s eyes turned bizarrely inscrutable. “He’s gonna be back late,” he proclaimed. “Don called and asked him to come drink beers.”
“How do you know that?” Madeline wondered. Frank hadn’t mentioned anything that afternoon before he’d left for ‘work’.
“Heard him talking on the phone.” He rubbed the side of his head, and Madeline saw the beginnings of a bruise forming on his right ear.
Oh, Michael. Why do you always have to make your father so mad? Maddie wondered. Instead of saying anything, she kissed her son’s ear and tucked him in. “You call if you need something.”
Michael burrowed deeply into the covers, rolling over. “I like your new shoes,” he said to the wall.
Nate, as always, was an easier case, possessing a three a relatively happy disposition. She fixed him a quick Spaghetti-O dinner. Then she put him to bed and fried two steaks for herself and Frank, tossed a green salad and baked potatoes and corn bread. Two bowls of instant chocolate pudding would complete the meal (she hoped Nate hadn’t gotten into the Reddi-Whip again), once Frank got home. Hobbling about the kitchen (those leather straps were much weaker than they looked, and the left one kept snapping itself open when she flexed her ankle), she sat down at a candlelit table and waited.
And waited.
At three, he came in, long after she’d eaten her dinner. “Jesus,” he slurred. As he bent over her for a hello kiss, Frank squeezed her breast and she muffled a disgusted gasp. He shoved down his dinner and went to bed, where he passed out, having noticed nothing about the atmosphere or his wife.
Maddie took the shoes to a second-hand shop the next day. They gave her three dollars for them, and she took that money into the neighboring dollar store.
Among the detritus, she found two small figurines – snow men on skis, swerving down a hill.
Cracking a smile, Maddie slipped them into her shopping cart.
***
Present Day
***
Fiona studied the shoes with trepidation. Were they real vintage Diors or fakes? She held them close to her eyes, studied them for a good four minutes, then shrugged. You could never tell about consignment store merchandise, but these looked so nice on her feet that she didn’t really care if they were fakes or not.
She kept them on her feet as she strolled to the counter with her payment. As she paid for her purchase, her cell chirped, and she fished it out of her pocket. “Hello, Sam.”
“Fi,” he panted. “Code gray! Get down to the wharf now!”
She was all business as she grabbed her receipt. “On it.”
***
How had Sam managed to get himself locked in a burning building? There wasn’t time enough for her to press a dab of C4 to the hinge – drastic measures would have to be taken.
She grimaced as she glanced at her foot. With a shrug, she kicked the door in.
Sam stumbled out of the unit, covered in soot from chin to brow. He coughed as they raced away from it, toward her Saab. “Thanks,” he grunted, accepting the bottle of water she offered him. “We need to regroup. Madeline’s?”
Fiona wanted to find the guy’s illegal goods-filled warehouse and blow it to bits, but regrouping would be healthier for Sam. “I’ll call Michael,” she informed him, as they climbed into the car and she put it in gear.
“Helluva time for Mikey to have the flu,” Sam grunted. He had been recuperating at his mom’s place for safety’s sake.
Fiona just shrugged. “We’ve been handling the case well.”
Sam glared at her. Fi was speeding, which she knew he hated, which she knew would make him extra cranky. She secretly enjoyed it when he was flustered. “Until you decided to teach the Toninis a lesson by burning his coffee plant!”
Fiona ‘accidentally’ accelerated the car, banging Sam into the windshield. He let out a howl of pain. “Oh look, we’re here.”
Madeline gasped as she opened the door. “Sam, do you need anything?”
He flopped down on her kitchen chair. “Just a beer, please,” he begged, putting his head down on the table.
When Madeline did as Sam asked, Fi cursed softly in Gaelic. She propped her foot up and adjusted the buckle on her left shoe.
Madeline looked at Fi, then down at the shoe. She smiled mysteriously, then said something that made Fiona’s brow fork in confusion.
“Careful of the left one. It breaks.”
