Disclaimer: Burn Notice and any characters associated with the show do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form.
Spoiler Alert – Major spoilers for 6.06 "Shock Wave."
I got the idea to write this story when I saw the title of MG12CSI16's story. It made me think of Eminem's song "Like Toy Soldiers," and that's where the inspiration to write this story came from.
This is my first Fan Fiction I have ever written, so I hope you guys like it. I'd also like to give a shout out to MissTink1987 for all the support.
Like Toy Soldiers
Michael was sitting in his green chair in the loft, staring at nothing. Fiona didn't know how long he'd been sitting like that. She didn't know how many times he took apart and put together the gun in front of him. She stopped counting at sixteen. He was a man in pain.
She thought back to the day before; he had brought her home after her months in prison. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but that lie was broken the moment he hugged her after she stepped through the gates. He wouldn't tell her what was wrong; he insisted everything was fine, that they were okay now. It wasn't until many hours later he told her the news that broke him.
"Fi, I told you nothing's wrong." They were sitting at the table in the kitchen eating a meal he had cooked for her.
"Michael…" she sighed, "You and I both know that's not true. If you don't want to tell me, fine. But don't just pretend like nothing is bothering you."
He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. His lips lingered and just loud enough for her to hear, he said, "I'm just happy you're home, Fi."
The next few minutes passed in a comfortable silence as they ate. As he finished his last bite, Michael mumbled her name just loud enough to get her attention. "It's Nate." She looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest. "He… He's uh…"
Fiona gasped quietly as she reached over to grab his hand in both of hers; she knew what was coming next. "He's dead, Fi… Nate's dead." His voice choked on the last word.
He stood up and she took him into an embrace that felt like it lasted all night. "I'm so sorry, Michael," she whispered. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and let his tears fall until there were no more.
She was sitting there watching him as she lied on their bed. She knew exactly how he felt. The pain of losing your sibling to a war that wasn't your own was all too familiar to her. She knew what it was like for the one person you felt like you had to protect no matter what to be taken from you right in front of your eyes. He felt like he was responsible, that he didn't do his job as an older brother. That would never change, and Fiona knew it. He'd just keep finding new ways to blame himself.
But she also knew what he needed. He didn't need to be comforted with words or smooth pats on the back while he cried and shared his feelings. He didn't need her to hover and cater to his every need. He didn't need to yell and scream or act out in rage. He needed to sit and work things himself. He needed to put his mind back together and sort out the details before he looked for somebody else to talk to about it.
He needed those things because he was Michael Westen; he was a soldier. For years he ran around the globe stealing secrets and being a glorified con man. But under all that, when all the layers were torn away and you came down to it, he was just a soldier; just like Sam, just like Jesse, and just like her. He was one of the millions that walked the earth every day fighting other people's wars while they were the ones that couldn't sleep at night because of the nightmares. He was the soldier that was ripped apart, bit by bit, but always held his composure while others around him broke because the war would always go on. The soldier that gladly put the weight on his own shoulders so others wouldn't have to. The soldier standing on the front line willing to die for the cause that was fed to him. The soldier that could never win no matter how hard he tried.
She knew that before he was ready, he would get back up and start fighting again. He would insist that he's fine while he put his head up high and be strong for others while he broke inside. He would continue to fight in the endless war.
Because that's what soldiers do.
