Hey guys! Sorry, I know it's been longer than usual since I've updated, but... things happen. This chapter follows 7.09. It started out as one idea and then kind of morphed into something unexpected. I'm actually a little hesitant to post it because my own feelings about it are rather ambiguous, but I figured I might as well give it a shot.
The next time Fiona woke, Michael was gone, but so was the makeshift hospital unit in which she had first regained consciousness. Replacing it was Madeleine's living room. Groaning, Fiona closed her eyes again. It would be a better day for all of them once people stopped waking up on this damn couch.
Hearing she was awake, Michael vacated a chair across the room and moved toward her. "Hey," he said quietly. He didn't think she'd noticed him yet.
Jolting upright, Fi's breath caught and she managed a startled "Jesus, Michael!" before being overcome by a coughing fit. It felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper across her lungs.
Rushing forward, Michael's left hand found her back and began rubbing soothing circles, as his right passed her a glass of water from the coffee table.
"C'mon Fi, just take a deep breath and try to relax. You're going to be fine. You're going to be just fine."
Gradually the coughs subsided and Fiona was able to take a sip of water before clearing her throat and glaring at Michael. "You scared me. How long have you been sitting there?"
"A while," he replied, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, a wry smile crossing his face. "Figured I'd return the favor."
Fiona rolled her eyes and took another sip of water before changing the subject. "Where's your mom?"
"I think she and Charlie are doing something involving a train set in his room. He wanted to see you, but you needed to sleep."
Fi nodded, "How long have I been out?" she asked.
"Here? About three hours. We moved you out of the warehouse around four, it's seven now," he replied, glancing at his watch. "Jesse called Carlos. He came by earlier and wanted to take you home with him but he got called for a job, so…" Michael trailed off and Fiona could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he talked about her current boyfriend.
"Oh, that was sweet of Jesse," was all she could come up with in response. "How's your hand?"
"Hm? Oh, it's fine. Just a burn. I don't even really feel it anymore."
Fiona hummed approval before meeting Michael's eyes and thanking him again. "That's three times now you've saved my ass since you've been back in Miami, I seem to be running up a tab," she said with a slightly bitter chuckle.
"You're welcome. You scared me," Michael said simply.
"God," Fiona sighed, "When did things get so complicated?" she asked, leaning her head against the back of the couch, only to quickly lift it again and add, "actually, no, don't answer that."
"Fi- -"
"I know." She cut him off. "And I've said we'll talk. But when that happens, we're both going to be healthy, on even ground, and somewhere other than this goddamned couch!" she said in a frustrated huff that led to a short bout of coughs.
Concerned, Michael's hand moved again toward her back, but Fiona quickly swatted it away, shaking her head. "I'm fine, Michael. Thank you, but I'm fine."
Draining the glass of water, Fiona stood. "Let's go find your mom and nephew so we can order some dinner. I'm starving and I'd be willing to bet you've hardly eaten anything all day."
Finding Charlie's room empty, the pair tried the backyard and found Madeleine sitting on a patio chair watching Charlie running around catching fireflies.
"Fi, you're up! How are you feeling?" the older woman exclaimed, standing to wrap Fiona in a hug.
"I'm fine, Madeleine, really," she said, returning the embrace with a smile. "We thought we might order dinner. Have you and Charlie eaten?"
"No, but I actually just called that Cuban place you like a few blocks over. I made sure to order your favorites. It should be ready for pick up in about ten minutes or so. Michael, would you mind?" Madeleine asked, turning toward her son.
"Sure, ma, I'll go," he said, already turning to head out to the Charger, "See you in a bit."
Satisfied, Madeleine nodded in Charlie's direction, "He's been waiting for you to wake up. I figured I'd bring him out here to let you sleep as long as possible. Why don't you go say hello? I'll go set the table," she said, moving toward the back door.
Fiona smiled and walked out to the middle of the yard where Charlie was sitting in the grass, staring intently at a firefly in the palm of his hand.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Fi asked, sitting down next to the boy.
"Auntie Fi!" he squealed, startling the insect away as his arms shot out to hug her.
"Hey there, darlin'," Fiona said, laughing and hugging Charlie back.
"Is Uncle Mike still here? Grandma told me to go to my room, but I saw him bring you here. Did he rescue you?" he asked, all excitement and smiles.
Fi sighed and lay down in the grass with the boy still in her arms. "He went to go pick up dinner for us, but he'll be back soon."
"But did he rescue you?" Charlie asked, squirming in her arms so he could stare into her face, waiting for an answer.
"Yes, I suppose he did," Fiona said finally. "I was… in a little bit of trouble and your uncle came and helped me out."
"Cool," the boy replied quietly, somewhat awestruck.
The pair lay in the grass for a while, Charlie pointing out every single firefly in the yard and Fiona simply enjoying the feeling of the grass on her bare shoulders and the child pressed into her side.
Inside, Michael had returned with dinner and Madeleine was busy dishing out plates at the kitchen table. "Fiona and your nephew are still outside, why don't you go call them in and make sure Charlie washes up?"
Obliging, Michael stepped out onto the patio and paused for a moment to take in the sight before him. He watched as Charlie snuggled into Fiona's side and she gently pushed his bangs back to kiss him on the forehead before suddenly rolling over and tickling the boy until both were shaking with laughter.
Chest heaving, Fi paused the tickle attack so she could catch her breath and looked up, making eye contact with Michael.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile as he called across the yard, "Food's here!"
Fi acknowledged Michael's announcement with a nod, and picked up the still laughing Charlie, carrying him to the patio and depositing him into a slightly startled Michael's arms.
"Uncle Mike is going to take you to get washed up, okay? It's time for dinner. I'll be there in a minute," Fi said as she tried to surreptitiously grasp the back of a patio chair for support, wheezing slightly.
She saw Michael noticing and forced a smile. "Really, go on, I'll be in in a moment. I just need to catch my breath. That was quite the tickle battle."
Ten minutes later, Michael had helped Charlie wash up and both were sitting down at the table across from Madeleine. Fiona still hadn't come in.
"Michael," his mother began, looking worriedly toward the back door.
Wordlessly he nodded and slipped away from the table and out to the yard.
He found Fiona perched on the edge of a chair, head in her hands, breathing heavily. She heard the door open and looked up slowly, tear tracks staining her cheeks.
"Fi," Michael murmured, kneeling down in front of her and placing his hands gently on her knees. "Fi, what's wrong?"
Instead of replying, she took his hands in hers and stood, pulling him up with her.
"Fi, you need to tell me what's wrong so I can help you. I want to help."
She opened her mouth like she was about to speak, but then closed it quickly. No words came, but she suddenly dropped their entwined hands and crashed her petite frame into Michael's chest, arms wrapping loosely around his waist.
Michael stood dumbfounded for a moment before wrapping his arms around Fiona's shoulders and back, holding her close.
She didn't say anything, but when Michael tried to pull back a little to see her face, she tightened her arms slightly around his waist. It wasn't a particularly binding grip; he could have easily stepped out of her grasp, but for all its looseness, it was also demanding. She needed this.
After a moment, Fiona inhaled deeply and stepped back. Swiping away the tear tracks with the back of her hand and giving Michael a small smile she said simply, "Okay," and walked into the house.
Confused, yet oddly comforted, Michael watched her walk away before turning to follow. He knew they wouldn't talk about whatever it was that had just happened, at least not for a long time, but still… it was something.