"I'm here Michael. Sleep," she whispers and sits beside him as he finally relaxes into deep sleep, a ghost of a smile upon his face.
As sleep tries to pull him under, tiny flashes of the day's events play out in his mind. He struggles to stay awake and make sense of them.
He twitches awake from his uneasy sleep and lays there still with his eyes closed remembering, finally piecing together the flashes of memory from earlier in the day.
"Hey Fi," he answers in greeting.
"Hello Michael."
He immediately picks up on the tense way she says his name.
"What is it Fi?" He asks softly trying to ease her anxiety.
"I need to talk to you," she whispers.
"Come by the loft."
"No. Meet me at Carlito's."
"I'll be there."
It's too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Well, unless you're older than 55 or wanting to get your drink on early after a hard day.
When he arrives she is alone and abnormally still sitting by herself at a table near the bar, her glass of water untouched. She doesn't play with the straw in her drink, nor does she smile at the passerby who is eyeing her more than Michael preferred. The place is not crowded, very few people there, it being too early for most people to want to eat their evening meal. However, a tall man is already on what appeared to be his second mojito.
She doesn't even look up at him as he slides down into the seat across from her. She merely acknowledges his presence with a seemingly simple question.
"What makes you happy Michael?"
The question seems out of place, even absurd in the dimly lit bar in the middle of one of the hottest places on earth. People come from all around to enjoy the white sandy beaches, palms lining the shoreline and miles and miles of beautiful people scantily clad. It is simply paradise. But paradise only has its pleasure for a season and Michael can feel the calm chill pass through him before the storm.
The question throws him, making him uneasy knowing that Fiona doesn't want to hear that eating yoghurt and long walks on the beach make him happy, though he can deliver the line with a grin and a flash of teeth that will appease anyone except maybe those closest to him.
Instead he leaves her hanging, but it doesn't matter, apparently it is a rhetorical question because she moves onto another as if what he had to say really didn't matter, because this isn't about him, it isn't about Michael Westen anymore, or the burn notice, or what client they would be helping this time, no this is about Fiona, Fiona Glennanne and her life, her.
"Could you give it all up? Even if it meant giving up all the things that makes you happy? Just for the slightest chance that something else could make you even happier?" She asks, finally looking up at him at the end. She sees the look on his face and she turns away and gives a nervous laugh before wiping at her eye and giving him a fake smile, already knowing that he could see right through it.
"Fi, you know-"Michael starts to defend himself, knowing it was going to be one of those moments where she tells him that there is life here, a life for the both of them if only he could let it go, she had even told him several times before, 'Let it go Michael!' But he's abruptly interrupted with a furious tongue lashing.
"Damn it Michael, don't you tell me what I know, because YOU don't know ANYTHING!" Her voice rises to a shrill yell and Michael raises a hand up, waving off the questioning stares from the very few people around them, becoming even more uneasy with the situation. He, well they have never been good at this and this isn't the place to be having this conversation. And then he realizes why she wanted to meet here, in this public place so they couldn't fight, he thinks to himself, well so much for that idea.
"Can you keep it down? Just a little Fi," Michael pleads, knowing already that this is a losing battle, knowing the fuse is already lit and it's only a matter of seconds before it blows up in his face.
"Keep it down? Keep it down?" She pushes violently up and away from the table, her chair falling backward.
Michael calmly stands up, knowing he needs to quickly diffuse the situation before things get even more out of hand.
He grabs her tightly by the elbow, forcibly leading her towards the Charger and she shrieks, "Get your hands off of me!"
The large man from the bar steps in front of him, effectively blocking his path.
Michael smoothly tells him, "This doesn't concern you, step aside."
The man's reply is a left hook to Michael's face. His head snaps back, and he lets loose of his grip on Fiona and he falls backward, the side of his head colliding with the bar rail.
Fiona cries out in shock before rushing to his side.
"Are you okay?"She whispers.
Michael ignores her, disoriented and eases himself up into a sitting position with one hand. As Fiona tries to help him to his feet he shakes her off roughly, slowly making it back to his feet on his own.
"Fine then. I can't do this anymore. I'm not doing this anymore. I won't. Goodbye Michael," she tells him walking her way through the bar. The patrons seeing her as the innocent victim in this scene let her go with ease and without question.
Michael doesn't have time to stop her or even call out to her, his vision swims as he finally makes it upright.