So I'm not usually one for writing my own storyline, but I thought I'd give it a try with a one-shot as something different from the scene extensions I normally write. This is just a short one set sometime in season four. As much as I love strong, kickass Fi, I love overprotective Michael. Hope you enjoy this little story; I'm definitely still working on more. Obviously I do not own the characters or anything else from Burn Notice. Also, I have very little medical knowledge, particularly in regards to bullet wounds (only what I have learnt from Burn Notice haha), so please take my imagination at liberty and don't think too much into the specifics of the medical aspect of the story.
Bulletproof
"Fi!"
Pain. It ripped through her like nothing she could recall. Yeah, she'd been shot before, but at this moment she couldn't remember it ever hurting quite as much.
She slumped to the ground, her own gun slipping from her grasp and hitting the pavement beside her.
Hands were gripping her waist, brushing against her face. She knew those hands anywhere.
"Fi, you're ok. Everything's going to be alright." Michael's voice sounded more frantic than it had in awhile. She should be touched at how concerned he was for her, but she wanted nothing more than to erase the panic from his tone. And the pain from her left side, of course.
Michael's hands moved down her body to the source of her injury. His heart jumped into his throat at the crimson blood blossoming over her shirt. He couldn't tell how bad the wound itself was, as the blood was soaking into Fi's shirt, making it look worse than it was (at least that's what he was hoping). The blood covered a part of her midsection, off to the side and just above her hipbone.
His hands moved back up to cup her face in his palms.
"Fi, don't close your eyes, ok? Sam and Jesse are coming, and we're going to get you out of here."
When an operation goes bad, you need to regroup. Of course, when a teammate is injured in the field it's a little more critical. In those situations you just need to get your team, get out, and get to safety.
Fiona still hadn't said a word since he'd rushed to her side, and he was beginning to worry even more. A silent Fiona was never good.
"Fi, talk to me." He said worriedly as he kept applying pressure to her wound.
She managed to raise her eyebrows slightly at him. "What am I supposed to say at this point, Michael?"
The words took a lot longer than normal to leave her mouth, and he could tell she was in pain, but at least there was a hint of her usual spark. He grinned slightly at her comment.
The screeching sound of tires caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Sam driving Fi's prized Hyundai faster than he would normally dare. Jesse leapt out of the car to open the door for them.
Michael turned back to his girlfriend. "Fi, this is going to hurt." His voice was apologetic, but by the time her brain had caught up to what was about to happen, he was tugging her gently into his arms and hurrying towards the car. He settled her in the backseat before climbing in and pulling her across his lap.
"Don't let me get blood on the seat." She groaned. "It'll be a bitch to get out."
"I'll clean it up for you." Michael assured her.
"Good to hear you're still worrying about the car more than yourself, Fi." Sam piped up from the front seat. "Where am I taking us, Mike?"
"My mom's." Michael instructed him. "It's closer and she's got more room."
"Michael, you're just – going – to make – her – worry…" Fiona told him.
"Don't you worry about it." He told her. The only thing that mattered right now was getting her safe and fixed up.
Fiona turned her head slightly to rest her forehead against his chest. She knew he'd asked her to stay awake, but she was just so tired …
Michael felt her lose consciousness the second it happened.
"Step on it, Sam." He ordered his friend. "We need to get a better look at her wound."
"On it brother." The speed of the car picked up noticeably, taking them towards Madeleine's house.
Michael leant down and pressed his lips to Fiona's forehead. "Just hold on, Fi."
She awoke some time later to the feeling of a bullet being removed from her flesh. No matter how many times it happens, it still hurts.
Michael's free hand fell to the other side of her body, trying to steady her. He'd been hoping she'd stay out long enough for him to get the bullet removed, but it had been in a little harder than he'd anticipated.
"I'm sorry, Fi." He soothed. "I'm almost done. But hold still, or I'll have to get my mother or Sam in here."
Fi squirmed a little less noticeably. "Hurts." She whimpered quietly.
Michael's heart jumped. Fi was as tough as nails, and she hated being vulnerable, so if she admitted that something hurt, it meant it really did.
"I'm sorry." He stroked her cheek gently before returning to the task at hand. He closed the pliers in around the bullet again, managing to finally pull it free. One might think he shouldn't be the person to perform the procedure on his girlfriend, but no one had dared to argue with him. He couldn't trust anyone with her as much as he did himself. Plus, he'd always been the one to patch her up in the past.
When he finally got the bullet free, another rush of blood began to flow. His brow creased in worry as he tried to control the bleeding.
"Sam! Get in here!" He called out to his best friend.
The ex-SEAL was at his side in a heartbeat. "What's up Mike?"
"I need you to put pressure on the wound, it's bleeding too much to try and stitch up right now." Sam could hear the worry in his buddy's voice.
"Sure thing brother." Sam would do anything to help the small woman beside him, although he'd prefer not to admit that out loud to her.
Sam managed to get the bleeding under control while Michael readied the stitches and needle.
"Ok, Sam, hold her still."
Fiona let out a sharp cry as the needle pierced her skin.
"It's ok, Fi." Sam tried to soothe her, making eye contact with his injured friend. "Almost done."
By the time Michael had finished stitching his girlfriend up and had placed a bandage over the wound, she had fallen into another pain-induced sleep.
A few hours later, Michael sat beside his childhood bed, Fiona's hand clutched tightly in his. He knew it was a good thing she was resting, but he longed for her to wake up so he could see her beautiful eyes and he could reassure himself that she truly was ok. Her wound hadn't been so bad that he'd considered a hospital, but it was worse than the bullet she'd taken after her little incident with O'Neill. He'd been worried enough when that had happened, and today had been worse.
He brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against her fingers gently. He wasn't the best with relationships, but he knew he'd never be able to function without the woman beside him. She was so entwined with every part of him that he wasn't sure who he was without her anymore. She brought out his fearful and protective side in a way that no one else could. Fi liked to act as though she was invincible, and sometimes Michael himself would forget that she wasn't, until something like this happened. He never felt more vulnerable than the times when he'd almost lost her.
The slightest movement of Fi's body was enough to draw his attention back to her. He waited expectantly as she shifted slightly, before her eyes finally opened and locked upon him.
"Hi." She managed to offer him a small smile. He could tell she was still in pain, but her eyes were more focused than they had been the last time she was awake.
"Hey." He smiled back, brushing some hair away from her forehead. "How're you feeling?"
"I've been better, but I've also been worse."
Michael smiled slightly at the end evasiveness of her answer. He knew downplaying pain was one of her coping mechanisms, and her strong façade had returned slightly, reassuring him that she was feeling a bit more like herself.
"Good." He said simply, pressing another kiss to the fingers of the hand he was still clutching.
"How long have I been out?" she asked, trying to piece together the events of the day.
"A few hours." Long enough for me to worry, he thought.
"I'm sorry about the job…"
"Don't be, Fi." Michael cut in immediately. "That doesn't matter. You're ok, that's the important thing."
His eyes were so full of conviction that it startled Fiona a bit. She didn't quite know how to respond to that, so she nodded her head and squeezed his hand in a way that she hoped was comforting. They're no good at this, but he makes her want to be.
A week later, Fiona was still recovering and becoming beyond antsy. Michael had been sticking to her like glue, and while it was quite sweet of him, not to mention very helpful when she wasn't particularly mobile, it was starting to drive her crazy.
"For God's sake Michael, can you just give me a minute to myself!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt terrible for how she sounded. She wasn't used to being doted on quite so much, and while part of her actually enjoyed it, the stronger, independent part wanted to resist.
Michael held his hands up in surrender, backing away from his girlfriend and leaving her on the balcony alone. Her wound had healed well and she was almost back to her normal self, so he had been expecting her to snap at him eventually. He knew she was fine now, but he still couldn't shake the discomfort that settled in his chest anytime she was out of his sight.
Deciding to give her some space like she wanted, he headed outside to give Sam a call. He'd been avoiding most jobs while Fi had been recovering.
Fiona sighed when she heard the loft door swing shut behind her boyfriend. She knew he meant well, but she wasn't a damsel in distress. She was almost back to normal now, so she didn't understand why he was still acting so protective. She knew just how much he cared for her. They didn't tell each other in words, but through their actions.
After ten minute of quiet, she decided to go and make peace with Michael. He hadn't deserved her anger this time.
She headed outside and found him sitting on a step halfway down. She settled herself next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Michael wrapped an arm around her waist in response.
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fiona spoke.
"Sorry I snapped at you."
Michael's eyebrows lifted in surprise. Fi wasn't one for apologising unless it was necessary.
"You've been really supportive while I've been getting better, and I really appreciate it. But I'm fine now Michael, so I don't understand why you're still being so…"
"Overprotective?"
"Irrational."
Michael let out a small chuckle. "I guess I am."
Silence fell between them again. Fiona ran her thumb over his jean-covered knee, waiting until he was ready to talk. She knew him so well, and understood that his silence often meant more than his words.
"I'm just really glad you're ok, Fi. I was scared after what happened."
"But I'm ok now." She turned her head so her chin rested on his shoulder. "Thanks to you." She added.
"I know. I've just been worried that something else might happen. I don't know what I'd do without you, Fi." His voice was much quieter than usual, but she understood why. She was the only one he could truly be vulnerable with.
She brought one hand up to run through the back of his dark hair, her other hand squeezing his knee comfortingly.
"It's sweet that you worry, Michael, but we have to get back to our normal life eventually. This kind of thing has happened before, and it'll happen again. But you know I'll never leave you, right?"
He turned his head to lock his eyes on her. Emotion was swimming in her orbs, and he could tell she truly meant every word. He nodded silently.
Fiona leant forward to press her lips against his, her fingers still entwined in his hair.
Michael pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.
"I love you, Fi." He whispered.
She felt a small smile overtake her lips. "I love you, too."
They stared in silence for a minute, lost in each other's gaze. Eventually Michael leant forward to kiss her forehead before rising and helping Fi to her feet.
"So, if you're up for it, Sam has a job for us?"
Fiona grinned, following him down to the charger. "Carlito's?"
Michael nodded, holding her door open for her as she climbed in. Driving away from the loft, the tension he had been carrying left his body as he realised that things were finally on their way back to normal.