A/N: This is my (probably AU) idea of Michael's thoughts and feelings during the latter half of season 7. Don't get me wrong, I love Michael and Fiona together, but after season 7, I was very interested in the idea of Michael and Sonya being together.
Disclaimer: I don't own Burn Notice.
In the time he spent with Sonya, he learned many things about her. He learned her weapon of choice, her favorite flavor of yogurt. He learned what made her tick, what drove her insane. He learned about the darkness in her heart. But he also learned about her innocence.
Sometimes, she reminded him of a young girl, confused, and trying to figure the world out. In some ways, she was that girl.
She wanted love. He figured it out the first night they shared. The way she leant into him, craving his very touch. It was obvious.
That same night, he found the scars. In the heat of the moment, he didn't pay them much attention. But early one morning, the sheet fell back, and he saw them. Burns and scars, littered in the most intimate places. He trailed a finger down them. She had awakened, immediately trying to pull the sheet up and cover them, but he stilled her hand. He'd caressed them, holding tightly to her. It was in moments like these, he had all he wanted.
In moments like that, she was his world.
She was very dangerous, no doubt about it. But she also reminded him of a delicate flower. Her soft, pale skin, contrasted greatly to the hard, tan muscles he'd become accustomed too.
And then there was her golden locks. He couldn't help but think of it as her halo, particularly when the early morning light made them shine like the sun.
She was an angel and a devil. And he loved that about her.
She was like a drug. Fiona called it sleeping with the enemy.
But he couldn't think of her as his enemy.
When it all went wrong, she asked if any of it had been real. He wasn't sure. But it sure felt real.
Then it all got even worse, and he had to choose. Fiona, or Sonya.
"You do what you think is right."
He did as Fi said.
He watched as his flower fell to the ground. He saw red, and sighed as the devil in his angel started to show. Her golden halo was broken, laying across the floor above her head.
She looked asleep. Peaceful. Innocent. Like a delicate, dangerous flower.
He'd done as Fiona said. He'd made the right choice. The good choice.
There was too much devil for her to be an angel. Too much danger to be delicate. Too much red to be white. Too many scars too be innocent.
Too much wrong, to be right.
A/N: So? What did you think?