I opened one of those chain emails my mom sent me and it was just so touching I had to write something for it. So this is just a series of one-shots that may or may not be related and are based off the ideas in each part of the email. The exact quote will be in italics at the tope of each chapter.
Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Burn Notice. Nor do I own Jeffrey Donovan, Gabrielle Anwar, Bruce Campbell, or Sharon Gless, though I wouldn't mind it one bit. =]
This first chap is set in season 2 while Fi is with Campbell, but it doesn't relate to any particular episode.
I believe… that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do love each other.
It had been a cakewalk job, for once. An easy two grand for each of them, but Michael had gone off in the end without back up or even telling anyone. It was stupid and he knew it, but it didn't seem like it was that big of a deal to him at the time. He was regretting it as Fiona picked a fight in his mother's backyard.
Nate had been involved in this one, and was standing just outside the door with Sam, watching them argue angrily. "I can not believe you, Michael!" Fi screamed at him for the third time. "You run off like you have nothing to lose! What would we have done if they had killed you?! Huh?! 'Sorry Madeline, but we don't know where your other son is. He ran off like an idiot and might have gotten himself shot up by a gang.' Is that what you wanted us to tell your mother?!" she continued, mocking him as she had an imaginary conversation with his mother, who was in the house away from their fighting.
"I'm more careful than that Fiona! If I wasn't I would have been dead twenty, maybe thirty, years ago! I've dealt with worse than that guy and you know it! I dealt with you back in the day!" Michael yelled back. They were standing on either side of a large ice chest Madeline had asked they carry from the garage to the porch.
Their yelling continued as the men on the porch began to converse. "Should we stop them?" Nate asked, worried about Fiona's violent tendencies, not to mention his brother's penchant for fighting. He had always been good at that when they were kids.
"Nah. They'll be fine. This is just how they are," Sam replied, used to their constant struggle.
The younger Westen turned to look at his brother's friend. "You told me they always come back to each other. They look like they hate each other and you tell me they love each other. How does that work?" he asked. It was a valid question, considering Michael and Fiona's complicated working and personal relationship, which they seemed to have difficulty separating most of the time.
"Just because they argue doesn't mean they don't love each other. If they didn't argue, they wouldn't be Mike and Fi. You should know by now that they're both stubborn. It would take a lot more than a screaming match to do any permanent damage to their relationship. We haven't dealt with anything that can complicate it any more than it was originally, so I think they'll be fine. It might take a little while, but they'll be fine," Sam replied, confident in his answer despite the fact that he had to raise his voice to be heard over the fight taking place a couple yards away.
Michael visibly slumped. Fiona had said something, but neither Sam nor Nate had heard it. Whatever it was, it had hit Mike like a ton of bricks. The ex-spy sighed. "I'm sorry, Fi. Thank you for worrying about me. I'll try not to do something I know is stupid next time. Ok?" he acquiesced. She seemed alright with his answer, but was, surprisingly, not smug. It wasn't the kind of argument you want to win. It was the kind that makes you feel bad about it after, like you just want to curl yourself into the arms of someone who cares and forgive all their wrongs because being angry hurts too much. Because being angry means acknowledging that you were worried and that hurts, too.
So she just nodded and let the hands that had been firmly planted on her hips fall to her sides. She delicately perched herself on the ice chest and sighed, wanting to simultaneously run as far away as she could get as fast as her feet would carry her and curl up in Michael's embrace. Neither was an option, so she sat there and let the heavy silence envelope them. "Campbell will be here soon to pick me up," she said, using it to excuse herself to the bathroom to freshen up.
Nate and Sam both wanted to make sure he was alright, but they knew it would be more trouble than they could handle. Of course he wasn't alright, but he would always be just fine in front of everyone. He had a high tolerance for pain, though his physical was a bit higher than his emotional, and he always had. They had left Michael in the backyard with his troubles and had retreated to the living room with a couple of beers by the time Campbell had arrived. He knocked on the door and waited anxiously for Nate to open it, like a teenager going to pick up a girl for a date and being terrified of her father. It was almost amusing for Michael, who had migrated to the kitchen and was surreptitiously watching.
Fiona nearly skipped through the house in an attempt to get the door. She treated Madeline's home as a third home (the loft was her second, if not first) and was welcomed to because Michael's mother just happened to have a soft spot for her. Of course, Nate was up and answering the door before Fiona could even get into the room. There was a subtle stare down on his end and Campbell averted his gaze slightly. He shook hands with the younger man and said how nice it was to see Sam again. Madeline introduced herself as Michael's mom, causing the newcomer to ask where the aforementioned man was. He appeared from the kitchen, almost every trace of guilt from their fight erased from his features. The only ones left were so ingrained he barely registered their existence and so well hidden only Fiona could clearly tell why the slight lines in his forehead were only slightly darker and why the twinkle in his eyes had dulled just a bit. A careful observer with less history, though, may only notice the physiological changes.
She told them all goodbye and sent a tiny glance at Michael who replied with an almost imperceptible nod that told her everything she needed to know. If she was okay with his answer in the yard, he would hold up his end. She figured it would probably happen again, but him trying was better than nothing at all so she agreed. He gave a false smile of approval and watched as the door closed and all that could be heard was, "I'm sorry I'm late," from Campbell. And, "Oh, it's alright. I was just talking with Michael," from Fiona, in a simple voice that made him long for the good old days.
"You know, just because they don't fight, it doesn't mean the do love each other," Madeline said quietly as she moved around him and into the kitchen. It was so quiet he almost missed it. A small sigh escaped his lips and he let his head nod of its own accord. He knew she was right, but that didn't make fighting with Fiona any easier. But, then again, when was anything with Fiona ever easy, except the falling in love part. That was far too easy.