Title:Recruiting: Fiona Glenanne
Summary:When you need someone with rather eclectic skills and a taste for guns and chaos then head to Miami.
Disclaimer: Angel belongs to Joss Whedeon and Mutant Enemy. Burn Notice belongs to Matt Nix and USA
“I thought I told you to stay away from Michael?” a female voice demanded.
Cordelia looked up from the breakfast bar where she was going over the latest reports from New York. Oh good. Just who she was looking for. “Fi!” she greeted. “You did. I'm ignoring you.” She let the older woman stew for a while. In all fairness she probably shouldn't have chased Fiona to ground at Michael's, it would only enrage the other woman and make things difficult. She had no interest in Michael Westen, other than as a friend— though yes, the man was damn fine to look at—yet she had to admit that there was something fun about rattling Fiona's cage. The fact that Cordelia and Michael got on well was an added bonus.
Fiona stalked across the living space, and made for the refrigerator. She took out a small tub of yoghurt, and peeled the top off. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Cordelia informed her cheerfully. She was grateful for an excuse to put the reports aside.
Fiona scooped a spoonful of yoghurt into her mouth and frowned. “Why here?”
“It's the one place I'm sure you'll come back to, and you've changed your cell.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow at that. “Why were you looking for me?” Fiona asked. “Does Michael know that you’re here?”
“Yep, he let me in.” Cordelia said, nodding. “I have an offer for you.”
“Yep.” Cordelia grinned at Fi, waiting.
Fi glared at her. “What's the offer?” she ground out.
Cordelia didn't answer the question, instead asking one of her own. “How would like to make some money?”
“Doing what?” Fiona asked cautiously. The last time Cordelia had asked her that it had resulted in death and destruction, and not all of the good variety. Plus she’d had some nasty bruises she’d had to explain to Michael. He hadn’t taken the idea of demons in Miami well.
“Consulting,” she repeated, flatly. “Consulting about what?”
“You may not have heard, but I have a PI firm now.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Fi, you haven’t even h—“
“I’m not interested.”
“It’ll give you health benefits,” Cordelia tempted.
Fiona started to refuse again then paused. “Why would you think that would tempt me? I’m from a country that has the NHS!”
“But you’re not living in that country now
,” Cordelia pointed out, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Yes, thank you for pointing that out,” Fiona snapped sarcastically. “I had forgotten.”
“You’d be autonomous. There’d be backup available if you needed it, but basically it’s taking out demons on a semi-regular basis. You can use whatever weapons you like, except for explosives unless the demon requires it. You’d get paid and you’d get health benefits and dental. Contributions to your 401(k) could be worked out.”
“Does Michael know what you’re up to?” Fiona asked, a little bemused at the paperwork that must have been done.
“Of course he does. He’s the one who suggested contacting SHEILD to get them to help out with keeping my guys off of America’s Most Wanted.”
“You’ve talked SHEILD into—“
“No. Not yet. I’m still annoying them in meetings at the moment.”
“They probably just want to know where you heard about them. You could really get Michael in trouble.”
“Nah. I’m Vision Girl, remember?” Cordelia smirked. “I’ve been very vague. It’s driving them nuts.”
“I can imagine.” Fiona smiled slowly. Tormenting bureaucrats was a sport she was always up for. “But I’m still not interested.”
Cordelia wanted to argue, but resisted. There was only so far you could push Fi before she just dug her heels in and wouldn’t budge. “OK. Look, take my card.” She retrieved a business card from her wallet. “If you change your mind...”
“If you do, or if you run into any problems of the demonic kind that you need help with, call.”
“Fine.” It’s obvious that Fiona is just saying that to get her to shut up and leave well enough alone. At least she takes the card.
The call, when it comes five months later, isn’t what Cordelia had been expecting.
What she had been expecting was something along the lines of: “It’s large, green, has a horn and tentacles and smells awful. Will shooting it work, or do I need to break out the explosives?”
Instead, it’s 3 in the morning when Cordelia gropes for the ringing phone on her bedside table.
“H’lo,” she manages to mumble.
“Health insurance, you said.” Fiona sounds harried on the other end.
Suddenly Cordelia is wide awake. “Yeah. Fi, what’s happened?”
Fiona didn’t answer. “I can hire my own people?”
“Yes, of course, though if you’re going to start doing things like running guns, I’m firing your ass and cancelling your insurance.”
Fi was silent for a few moments. “Sam’s in the hospital,” she said softly. “A job went bad.”
“Are you and Michael ok?”
“I’m fine. Michael’s in bad shape though—and his brother is in ICU.”
Oh, not good. “Say the word. I can backdate the paperwork a couple of days.”
“Do it. I’m in.”