FIC: Forsaken
Feb. 28th, 2009 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Forsaken
Fandom: Burn Notice
Prompt: 136 - rejected at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse; 001. Crush at 10_fics
Warnings: None, really. Bad language.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Fiona hasn't forsaken the Church, even though she suspects it has forsaken her
Disclaimer: I don't own Burn Notice, but oh how I wish I did.
A/N: Unbetaed and written in an astonishingly short time. I reserve the right to revisit this idea later.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Fiona eyes the Catholic Church with curiosity, wondering if it will burst into flames if she goes inside. Of the Ten Commandments that she can remember, she's broken them. She's pretty sure she's probably broken the others, too.
The ocean breeze picks up and her hair flies into her face. Absently, she tugs the strands to the side and goes to sit on a bench across the street from the church. This is Miami, not Belfast, but the stained glass is the same, and the giant white cross that decorates the Church lawn is identical to the thousands of crosses she'd observed as a child.
Thou shalt not kill.
It was a fairly blunt order, and the first of the commandments to come to mind. Murder was a mortal sin, but Fiona had been taught on the knees of the clergy as a wee girl that fighting in an army wasn't murder. Even if it was an army that most people referred to as a group of terrorists. Even if the cause wasn't one that Fiona really believed in.
Hell, she'd been good at her job and she liked it. Things went boom from a safe distance and her hands, if not her soul, remained bloodstain free.
Plus, Fiona ran guns – she rarely shot at targets herself, unless they shot at her first. Then, it was self-defense, not murder.
She was pretty sure.
Actually, she was pretty sure she was fucked on that one. The only time she'd confessed her true sins to a priest, the Father had nearly fainted he'd been so afraid of her.
Fiona grins a bit at the memory. That had been fun, actually.
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.
Fiona had that one covered. She only coveted her neighbor's husbands. And slept with more than a few of them when the mood struck her. In retrospect, Fiona wonders if that's the reason she has male friends, but not girlfriends.
Thou shalt not steal.
Damned again, although to be fair, Fiona only stole things that she couldn't obtain legally. And the occasional get away car. Unless bank robbery counted, and, she thought with a wrinkled nose, it probably did count.
Well, it wasn't like she stole clothes or jewelry or shoes! If she was lucky, St. Peter would be understanding about that sort of thing. Besides, she had long ago adopted Michael's rule about refilling gas tanks on the cars she borrowed, and she rather hoped that would tip the balance in her favor.
Thou shalt not use the Lord's name in vain.
Fiona made a point to only use the Lord's name in moments where it was truly deserved. When someone shot at her… when someone tried to kill her… when Michael moved inside her in that way that made stars dance behind her eyes…
She might be okay on that one. Although, she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be having sex with Michael, considering they weren't married, so she probably wouldn't be able to slide those through.
God damn, this was harder than it should be.
Thou shalt honor thy mother and father.
Fiona's relationship with her family had never been easy. She honored them as best she could by moving as far away as she could get.
She sent birthday cards and Christmas cards, but she made sure she never sent her phone number.
This one was definitely a toss up and she was pretty sure she'd have to throw herself on the court's mercy. Luckily, that was one thing the Church was supposed to have plenty of.
Thou shalt honor the Sabbath.
Fiona frowns. Honoring the Sabbath probably meant actually attending a mass, and not just sitting on a bench across the street on nice Sunday mornings when she wasn't busy helping Michael with a case.
But she preferred her sunny bench to a stuffy pew and the ocean air smelled better than any incense. Besides, from what she had heard, the seagulls were several times over better than the choir.
Sermons just put her to sleep. If she were honoring the Sabbath, she was better off being awake. At least, that's what made sense to her way of thinking.
Thou shalt not bear false witness.
Really, she rarely bore witness at all, false or otherwise. That was more Michael's gig. Or Sam's. Fiona preferred to be long gone when it came time to make any sort or report, regardless of who was telling the truth.
Biting her lip, she realizes that helping Michael (and occasionally Sam) makes her at least an accessory, and she wonders if it's possible to be condemned to hell for aiding and abetting false witness bearing.
Probably, knowing her luck.
Fiona's pretty sure that there are a couple of commandments that she's forgetting, but it's clear that it won't matter much. The Church may not burn to the ground if she goes inside, but she can feel its rejection crushing her just fine from across the street.
She doesn't leave though. Instead, she sits and tilts her head back to face the sun, eyes closing, as the bells start chiming. A long ago forgotten prayer stirs in the back of her mind, and she whispers the words silently. She doesn't know if God hears her or cares, but on Judgment Day, she wants it to be clear that she did her best, even if it turns out not to be good enough.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Prompt: 136 - rejected at
tamingthemuse; 001. Crush at 10_ficsWarnings: None, really. Bad language.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Fiona hasn't forsaken the Church, even though she suspects it has forsaken her
Disclaimer: I don't own Burn Notice, but oh how I wish I did.
A/N: Unbetaed and written in an astonishingly short time. I reserve the right to revisit this idea later.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Fiona eyes the Catholic Church with curiosity, wondering if it will burst into flames if she goes inside. Of the Ten Commandments that she can remember, she's broken them. She's pretty sure she's probably broken the others, too.
The ocean breeze picks up and her hair flies into her face. Absently, she tugs the strands to the side and goes to sit on a bench across the street from the church. This is Miami, not Belfast, but the stained glass is the same, and the giant white cross that decorates the Church lawn is identical to the thousands of crosses she'd observed as a child.
Thou shalt not kill.
It was a fairly blunt order, and the first of the commandments to come to mind. Murder was a mortal sin, but Fiona had been taught on the knees of the clergy as a wee girl that fighting in an army wasn't murder. Even if it was an army that most people referred to as a group of terrorists. Even if the cause wasn't one that Fiona really believed in.
Hell, she'd been good at her job and she liked it. Things went boom from a safe distance and her hands, if not her soul, remained bloodstain free.
Plus, Fiona ran guns – she rarely shot at targets herself, unless they shot at her first. Then, it was self-defense, not murder.
She was pretty sure.
Actually, she was pretty sure she was fucked on that one. The only time she'd confessed her true sins to a priest, the Father had nearly fainted he'd been so afraid of her.
Fiona grins a bit at the memory. That had been fun, actually.
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.
Fiona had that one covered. She only coveted her neighbor's husbands. And slept with more than a few of them when the mood struck her. In retrospect, Fiona wonders if that's the reason she has male friends, but not girlfriends.
Thou shalt not steal.
Damned again, although to be fair, Fiona only stole things that she couldn't obtain legally. And the occasional get away car. Unless bank robbery counted, and, she thought with a wrinkled nose, it probably did count.
Well, it wasn't like she stole clothes or jewelry or shoes! If she was lucky, St. Peter would be understanding about that sort of thing. Besides, she had long ago adopted Michael's rule about refilling gas tanks on the cars she borrowed, and she rather hoped that would tip the balance in her favor.
Thou shalt not use the Lord's name in vain.
Fiona made a point to only use the Lord's name in moments where it was truly deserved. When someone shot at her… when someone tried to kill her… when Michael moved inside her in that way that made stars dance behind her eyes…
She might be okay on that one. Although, she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be having sex with Michael, considering they weren't married, so she probably wouldn't be able to slide those through.
God damn, this was harder than it should be.
Thou shalt honor thy mother and father.
Fiona's relationship with her family had never been easy. She honored them as best she could by moving as far away as she could get.
She sent birthday cards and Christmas cards, but she made sure she never sent her phone number.
This one was definitely a toss up and she was pretty sure she'd have to throw herself on the court's mercy. Luckily, that was one thing the Church was supposed to have plenty of.
Thou shalt honor the Sabbath.
Fiona frowns. Honoring the Sabbath probably meant actually attending a mass, and not just sitting on a bench across the street on nice Sunday mornings when she wasn't busy helping Michael with a case.
But she preferred her sunny bench to a stuffy pew and the ocean air smelled better than any incense. Besides, from what she had heard, the seagulls were several times over better than the choir.
Sermons just put her to sleep. If she were honoring the Sabbath, she was better off being awake. At least, that's what made sense to her way of thinking.
Thou shalt not bear false witness.
Really, she rarely bore witness at all, false or otherwise. That was more Michael's gig. Or Sam's. Fiona preferred to be long gone when it came time to make any sort or report, regardless of who was telling the truth.
Biting her lip, she realizes that helping Michael (and occasionally Sam) makes her at least an accessory, and she wonders if it's possible to be condemned to hell for aiding and abetting false witness bearing.
Probably, knowing her luck.
Fiona's pretty sure that there are a couple of commandments that she's forgetting, but it's clear that it won't matter much. The Church may not burn to the ground if she goes inside, but she can feel its rejection crushing her just fine from across the street.
She doesn't leave though. Instead, she sits and tilts her head back to face the sun, eyes closing, as the bells start chiming. A long ago forgotten prayer stirs in the back of her mind, and she whispers the words silently. She doesn't know if God hears her or cares, but on Judgment Day, she wants it to be clear that she did her best, even if it turns out not to be good enough.
