Title: Battle of the Wills
Fandom: Burn Notice
Summary: "In that second when their eyes locked, it was warfare – a battle for the ages." Mike and Fi are fighting behind the words in that conversation in "Good Soldier."
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Michael/Fiona
Length: 400 words
Genre: romance, angst
A/N: Even though we've started back up with new episodes and this is practically obsolete, I'm reverting again to writing ficlets on "Good Soldier" again. I swear, that episode has inspired me to write more ficlets – three, now – than any episode of any show. Ever.
"So, Michael, you never did tell me what you think about Campbell," she said casually.
The casualness was a lie – a very big one. Anyone who ever said anything "casually" had ulterior motives in the works. And Fi's had started to become abundantly clear over the past few days and weeks.
And Michael was not going to rise to her baiting. He was not going to give in and let Fiona hear what it was she wanted him to say.
And so he looked over at her and promptly deflected the question – better yet, he turned it around at her. "Fi, why does it matter to you so much what I think of him?" he asked.
He knew the answer – the real answer – just like she knew the answer to the question she had asked.
What did he think about Campbell? He didn't like him much – for reasons that had nothing to do with Campbell himself.
Why did it matter to Fi so much? Because she'd chosen Campbell with this exact – well, more or less exact – conversation in mind. Because she wanted to know if he'd already discerned that Campbell was nothing more than a substitute and a tool.
He had. Once his mind had returned to logic.
He'd realized this was Fiona, and if anyone knew how to fight and wage war for what she wanted, it was Fi.
She turned her eyes to him, and their gazes locked. And right then and there the battle of the wills began. It all came down to who was going to cave in first.
And it was not going to be him. Michael was not going to cave in. Michael Westen did not give in.
But then again, neither did Fiona.
"Because I want you to like him," she responded simply.
His eyes narrowed fractionally. "I'm happy he makes you happy," he deflected again.
He wasn't sure he really wanted to know who would win if this kept going – it was a showdown for the ages in that second that their gazes locked. It was psychological warfare now, but it was psychological warfare at its peak – and this could get ugly.
And, luckily, his phone chose that very second to ring. He was saved by the cell.
"Saved by the phone," Fiona scoffed.
But even as he answered his phone, Michael knew the battle hadn't ended – just been delayed.