A story in which Fiona talks to Michael. Character death mentioned, so have tissues ready. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
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"I love you, Michael."
"Love you, too, Fi."
Fiona Glenanne sat on their bed, wearing one of Michael's t-shirts and a pair of shorts. The sweltering heat drove her to open all of the windows, giving the loft an open feel. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her legs were crossed as she thumbed through a photo album.
"When are we going to talk about names?"
She smiled, absently touching the swell of her abdomen. "I told you. This baby is coming out of me, and I'm naming him Michael."
"And I'm telling you that she's a girl. Are you going to call her Michael?"
"Michelle."
"Come on, Fi. You're more original than that."
"Maybe, but it's important to me that our son has your name."
"It's bad enough that he's going to be saddled with the Westen name, Fiona."
"Who says he's going to be a Westen?" Fiona shot back teasingly.
"Touche."
She slid off of the bed and went into the kitchen, grabbing a yogurt from the refrigerator. "If we have a girl, I think I'd like to name her Claire."
Michael smiled. "For your sister. That's nice, Fi."
She retrieved a spoon from the silverware drawer. "I'm sure he'll be a boy. My mom had two boys before I came along, then three more before my sister was born." The memory of her sister made a lump form in her throat.
"That's a good point, but I still think she's a girl. And she's going to look just like you."
"God, I hope not."
"I do. You're beautiful."
She blushed lightly and swallowed a spoonful of her yogurt. "This is definitely your child. All I can keep down is yogurt."
"That's good. I was worried that Sam was the father."
She snorted. "Not a chance of that happening."
"Not a chance of what happening?" Sam asked.
Fiona looked up, surprised. She hadn't even heard Sam walk into the loft. She was starting to slip. Setting down her yogurt, she nodded at him. "Nothing."
He glanced around the loft. "Fi, who were you talking to?"
Fiona averted her eyes, and a look of deep sadness came across Sam's features.
"You were talking to Mikey, weren't you? Fi, you know that's not healthy."
Without thinking, Fiona grabbed the yogurt and flung it across the room. It splattered on the walls and floor, and the smell of blueberries permeated her senses. Then she turned on Sam. "I don't care what you think, Sam!"
"Fiona, Michael's dead," he murmured, his voice quivering. It had been two months since his best friend died, and neither he nor Fiona were close to getting over their painful loss. "He's not coming back."
From his seat on the bed, Michael watched Fiona with a sad look. "You know he's right, Fi. I'm only here because you can't let me go."
With a choked sob, Fiona slid to the floor, her arms wrapping tightly around her swollen abdomen. Their baby was the only piece she had left of Michael, the only reason she still retained some of her sanity.
"Fi…" Sam hurried over to her side and knelt down, gathering her into his arms.
"Leave me alone, Sam," she pleaded through her tears.
"I can't do that, honey. You're family." He loved her like a sister, and he knew that Mikey would have expected him to take care of her.
Fiona looked past him, at the bed where Michael had been sitting. He was gone. Sobbing, she buried her face in Sam's shoulder, clutching his shirt in her fists.
Sam held her tighter, and together they grieved for the man they had lost.
A few feet away, Michael watched Fiona and Sam with a bittersweet smile. They were finally growing closer, and it had only taken his death to bring them together so they could be there for each other.
"Take care of each other," he murmured, closing his eyes.
Eventually, they would be okay.
Eventually.
The End.
A/N: Awww... I really think that if Michael actually died, Fiona would go out of her mind with grief. If it was just her (with no kids) she might become very reckless and eventually get herself killed. Sam would probably drink himself to death. Thanks for reading, and please review!