38 Weeks: The Thirtieth Week

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

On Sunday of the thirtieth week, Michael held the smallest combat knife he had ever seen.

"You know, when Nate and Ruth got pregnant, they got onesies, diapers, and a stroller from their friends."

"I think it's sweet that our friends are thinking of us."

"Yeah. Sweet. Fi, this is a toddler-sized combat knife." Michael was holding either the coolest thing in the history of weaponry or the scariest thing he had ever seen. He wasn't entirely sure. What he did know was that a combat knife was a horrendously inappropriate present for a child, even if, as Seymour had said, this child was going to be the biggest badass in the history of badass.

"A toddler-sized combat knife that Seymour had specially made for us. I'm not saying Seymour and sane have even a casual relationship. Still, you've got to admit, it is cute."

"It's got a pink bow and a rattle built into the hilt. I really hope our two-year-old never needs her very own combat knife."

Michael put the knife down as Fi picked up a dark blue and gray diaper bag. It had been sitting in a box, along with a second one in mauve and pink, with a very congratulatory card from Buddy.  "The bags are cute."

"The bags are very nice." It had taken Michael a good half hour to even remember who Buddy was, let alone why he'd given them his and hers Coach diaper bags. "I don't think these are real, Fi."

"I know, Michael. Not only does Coach not make diaper bags, they certainly don't make them with holsters."

"What's this pocket for?"

"A taser? Maybe an extra bottle."

"Huh."

They're in the nursery, unpacking all of the baby shower presents, making a list of what they still need.

Fi leans over to a large box, and checks it. "I thought so. Sam and Elsa got us a stroller."

"Good. Stroller, check. Am I remembering right, did your mom get you a breast pump?"

"Yeah."

Michael checks that off the list as well. "What's in that envelope?"

"The extra fake IDs."

"Right, because what toddler doesn't need her own fake IDs?"

Fi checks the passports over carefully. They're perfect, save for the missing pictures. "This one is for if she needs to run with Sam. It's for Elise Finley."

"Of course. Is he supposed to be her grandfather?"

"Who knows? There's one for Elise Porter, as well. It looks like these were designed so that if we ever want to get her out with a trusted friend, she's ready to go."

Michael sighs, very much hoping they won't ever have to hand their daughter to Jesse or Sam and have her flee. Still, it's good to be ready to do that if they need to. He writes it on the list, along with a note to give the right passports to Jesse and Sam as soon as they've got pictures to put in them.

Fi opened another box. "And we've got onesies. Who's Jessica?"

"Remember the Frozen Yogurt lady, with the Fed who was posing as a loan shark."

"Yeah." Fi holds a tiny pink onesie with little butterflies on the chest up. "It's hard to believe she'll be that small."

Michael puts down the list and leans over to touch Fi's tummy. "She's even smaller than that now."

"She feels a lot bigger than that now." Fi winced. "Help me up." Michael stood up, and helped lever Fi off the floor. She limped in the direction of the bathroom, and he went back to the list.

By the end of the afternoon, they had their shopping list ready. Operation: Get Nursery Ready was one step closer to beginning.