I'm back! This piece seems to have taken on a bit of a life of its own, one encouraged by all of your wonderful reviews. :) Thank you.
Fiona woke the next morning to sun shining across her face and a deep ache in her neck. Groaning softly she slowly opened her eyes, finding her hand still enveloped in Michael's and his eyes focused on her face.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey," she replied, simultaneously trying to roll the kinks out of her neck and avoid his gaze. "How are you feeling?"
"Not great, but better. I slept better after…" he trailed off, gingerly sitting up and glancing down at their still joined hands.
Fi followed his gaze and started a little, quickly letting go and pulling her hand back.
"Oh, good, I'm glad," she sputtered, clearly flustered.
They were silent for a moment, both wracking their brains for a subtle way to diffuse the tension that had suddenly built in the room.
Fiona's eyes had been flicking here and there around the room in an attempt to avoid Michael's face, but for a brief moment their eyes met and Michael spoke.
"I'm sorry."
It looked like he wanted to say more, but before either of them could speak Charlie's head slowly peeked around the doorframe and Fiona had to laugh.
Knowing he'd been caught, the little boy raced across the room and crashed unceremoniously into Fiona's lap, burying his face in her shoulder.
"Did grandma send you to check on us or did you hear us talking?" Fiona asked, smiling.
In response, Charlie mumbled something unintelligible into her hair.
"Charlie, you have to speak up, darlin'."
"Is Uncle Mike better now?" he whispered in Fiona's ear.
"Why don't you ask him that yourself? I'm sure he'd love to talk to you," she replied, giving Michael a pointed look over the little boy's head.
Hesitantly, Charlie turned around in Fi's lap and shyly asked Michael, "Do you feel better today? I think grandma and Auntie Fi were really worried about you."
A strange look passed over Michael's face as his nephew spoke the words "Auntie Fi," but he quickly regained his composure and leaned forward, elbows on his knees to reply to the boy.
"Yes, I do feel better, Charlie. I think your grandma and," he hesitated, "… Fiona helped a lot."
Ice broken, Charlie was excited and practically bouncing in Fiona's lap. "And me too, right?! I helped too! Grandma even let me sleep out here until you woke up!" he exclaimed, pointing at the other couch.
Suddenly the boy stopped bouncing and quickly leaned in close to Michael's face before emitting a surprised "Whoa."
Confused, Michael shot a questioning glance at Fi, but all she could do was shrug.
Thankfully Charlie explained quickly. "Uncle Mike! You have the same color eyes as me!"
"Oh really?" Michael replied, chuckling. "I can't see my own eyes, so I think we need a second opinion. Fi?"
After an exaggerated study of both sets of baby blues, and an enthusiastic nod for Charlie's benefit, Fiona replied softly, "I've always seen you in his eyes, Michael."
Charlie was excitedly babbling away about how cool it was to have matching eyes, completely unaware of what had just happened between the adults, completely unaware of the sadness in their locked gaze.
Finally, the tension became too much to handle, and Fiona tried to gracefully bowed out. "You two clearly have some catching up to do. I'm going to go see what grandma's doing," she said, gently lifting Charlie out of her lap and encouraging him to take the space on the couch next to Michael. "You boys have fun."
Fiona was painfully aware of every muscle in her back and neck as she walked into the kitchen, and let out a heavy sigh as she reached for a mug from the cupboard.
"Good morning. There's tea in the kettle," Maddy said from her place at the table with a mug of coffee and the newspaper. "Charlie had cereal, but you're welcome to whatever you want. I think I even have yogurt in the fridge if Michael wants to eat."
"Thank you," Fi smiled, pouring herself a cup of tea and coming to join the older woman at the table.
"I made Charlie wait as long as I could, but he was just too excited. I hope he didn't wake you. You both looked so peaceful when we got up. Though I'm sure your neck is killing you," Madeleine said sympathetically.
Fiona sighed. "No, he didn't wake us. Actually, I think Michael was up before me. They're bonding over shared eye color at the moment. Charlie's very excited," she said with a slight eye roll.
Madeleine laughed. "Of course he is. You should have seen me trying to get him to sleep last night. He was practically buzzing. I think Michael has a new admirer." Then, sobering, she asked, "How is he?"
Fiona took another sip of her tea before replying. "He says he feels better, and I think I believe him," she said slowly. "He's hurting, but that's to be expected."
"That's good. It's progress, at least. He should probably eat something, right? Try to get his strength back," Madeleine inquired.
Fiona nodded and moved toward the refrigerator, placing her now empty mug in the sink as she passed. "I'll bring him a yogurt."
"Good. And could you send Charlie back here when you do? I think it's time for him to get dressed. He's been in pajamas long enough," Madeleine said with a wry smile.
When Fiona returned to the living room she found a still excited Charlie talking a mile a minute to Michael about all of Fiona's bedtime stories. Michael was making a valiant effort to appear engaged, but it was clear that his energy was fading.
Michael shot Fiona a grateful look as she handed him the yogurt and cut Charlie off as gently as she could. "Okay, Prince Charlie, I think that's enough for now. Remember your uncle still isn't feeling very well, and grandma wants you in the kitchen anyway. How about you go see her and you can tell Michael more stories later?"
Reluctantly, the boy agreed and slouched off to find Madeleine.
"Thanks," Michael sighed, pulling the top off of his yogurt. "He's quite the talker, huh?"
Fiona smiled and sat down in Charlie's recently vacated space on the couch. "Yeah, he is, especially when he's excited. I think he loves his uncle."
"Not as much as he loves Auntie Fi," Michael countered around a spoonful of yogurt.
Fiona immediately tensed. Auntie Fi. There was something about Michael using those words that made her whole body ache with sadness. It held too many echoes of what could have been, remnants of a future that had been beaten and burned too many times over the years.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please don't."
"Fi…"
"No. Not now. One day, Michael, you and I will talk. But now is not the time," she said forcefully. "You need to recover, and I," she hesitated a moment, choosing her words, "I need to go home. I have work to do. Tell your mom I'll call her later?" And with that, she was gone, front door clicking shut behind her.