QUICKIE
Set between 508 "Hard Out" and 509 "Eye for an Eye". What happened between Michael and Fi after the tense dinner with Madeline and Benny? For some reason, I like to get inside Fiona's head.
Disclaimer: As always, these engaging characters aren't mine, even remotely.
QUICKIE
Fiona got back to the loft a good ten minutes before Michael. It helped that she was burning with anger at someone she couldn't- or wouldn't- identify
Yes, she was angry at Armand, for being the predictable manipulative, cold-hearted, ruthless bastard she always knew him to be.
And yes, she was angry at Michael. Armand's remarks had made her feel the need to defend him, if only to herself.
The fact was that she was angry with herself for working with Armand. No, disgusted was more the word, truth be told. And the truth deserved to be told. Given their past, it was no surprise that blood had been shed. She should have expected nothing less of him.
She was also angry with herself because she hadn't been truthful with Michael about Armand, even though she knew that it would have made no difference. Armand held the key to questions that needed to be answered. Questions that Michael would not let go, that he would risk his life and freedom to answer. So what choice did she have, really?
None at all.
Which brought her right back to being angry at Michael. And Armand. And herself.
She huffed and threw her bag onto the table by the door. At times like this, she wished for a place of her own again. There was no place to be alone with her thoughts or with her anger. Armand was right. This loft was a drab little flat. One more thing to be angry about.
After the job for Armand she felt dirty. How many showers would it take, she wondered, to wash away the stain of him? Kicking her platform sandals off in high satisfying arcs, she strode to the tiny bathroom at the back of the loft.
Peeling off her clothes, she stepped into the shower. Michael would be home soon, and they would have to talk this out.
"Well", she thought, "It'll take him all of two seconds to figure out where I am. If he wants to talk to me, let him walk the 5 feet and join me in the shower. Knowing Michael, that won't happen unless I drag him in here, clothes and all. Hah! That would be fun! Get him wet, and pull his clothes right off his tight workaholic ass."
This train of thought was rather fun, and Fiona decided she'd feel a lot better if she could take out her anger on him in exactly that way.
Michael was on the phone when he entered the loft. "Great, Sam. See what you can dig up about this guy, and get over here right away. I'd like to get up to Tallahassee by morning. I'll load up the Charger."
Rounding the corner into the bathroom, he asked, "Fi, did you read this?" as he looked down at the paper she'd given him in the restaurant.
"What, Michael? Oh, so sorry… could you bring me a towel?"
"Really, Fi? They're two feet away."
He put the page down by the sink, and reached a towel in to her, hazarding a peek as he did. No apology or remorse could be read in his expression. He looked weary, a little battered, and altogether sexy. Fiona didn't really care about the first two, and figured the latter was no problem at all.
That he'd taken his suit jacket off was a bit of a disappointment. Armani was always such fun to ruin. But, you go with what you've got, so she took the towel from him with one hand and grabbed the front of his shirt with the other. With a solid yank, she had him in the shower, shoes and all.
By the time Sam arrived, Michael and Fiona had worked out their differences.