So, here is my take on Hot Spot, another one of my favourite episodes. I know there a lot of stories about this episode on the site, a lot of those stories I absolutely love. Most of them focus on the aspect of Fiona's past with sexual assault, and I think they are spot on with those observations. However, I have gone in a different way for my story, because I don't feel that I could contribute to that storyline as well as other authors have, without copying those stories. So this one focuses more on the aspect of how Fiona is unsure about Michael's feelings towards her at this point in the show. I've been working on this for quite awhile, so I hope you like it. The various lines from the show that I have used in this story do not belong to me, neither does anything else to do with Burn Notice. All belongs to Matt Nix and the writers.
Update: I would just like to clarify something that a guest reviewer asked. I did mention something above about Fiona's past with sexual assault. No, this is not something that happened or was explicitly stated in the show. In this episode Fiona gets extremely worked up when talking with Michael about their clients, insisting on helping a teenage girl who was attacked (by an older male in a presumably sexual attack). Michael tells her that she's letting her emotions get the best of her. Based on observations from this scene as well as how Fiona acts in regards to cases involving vulnerable women, many fans believe that she experienced a sexual attack in her past, before the show began. This is simply a fan made theory that many believe to be a part of Fiona's character development. If you search for other fanfics set during this episode, many of those stories go into greater detail about this topic and its possibility within the show, even though the writers never introduced it. There is already a number of stories on this site that deal this topic, and I didn't feel I could contribute anything new to it, which is why the focus of my story takes a different angle. If you wish to read these stories to understand the idea better, a few of my favourites that I can recommend are Pyrite by Delphein, and Chapter 2 of The First Time by TheWitch'sCat. I think these authors did an excellent job writing about an important and sensitive issue. I hope that clears up any confusion.
/
They weren't together, but they weren't not together. The lines that defined their relationship were so far beyond blurred that they practically didn't exist. Their lives were a constant see saw of Fiona flirting and Michael needing her help, with sexually charged moments as they worked together. They were so comfortable with each other that even the simple aspects of their life, such as having lunch together, often felt like something more.
They sat opposite each other at the bench in the kitchen of the loft, eating lunch. Or rather, Fiona had been eating while Michael stared at his laptop, pouring over the security footage he'd managed to secure earlier that morning. He had such a one-track mind.
Tired of the silence, Fi cracked one of the fortune cookies they'd been given with their meals and spread the little piece of paper open.
"The one you love is closer than you think." She read, her eyes lifting to Michael as her mouth shifted into a smile. She got no reaction from the man opposite her, of course, so she crumpled the message into a ball, let out a sigh and tossed it to the side.
"What does yours say?" She asked him, trying for a reaction once again. She gave him no more than a few seconds to respond before she brought her open palm down to the bench, smashing the cookie beneath it into small pieces. She pulled the paper away from the mess, deciding to have a little fun with it.
"The one who burned you is closer than you think." She furrowed her brow in mock confusion as she feigned disbelief.
"What? What?" Michael's ears pricked as he turned his head to stare at the paper in her hands.
Of course that worked she thought. Her eyes flicked up from the paper to his face, her mouth forming a slight pout as she let him know she was joking.
His eyes narrowed at her, but they remained soft so she knew he wasn't mad. "Not funny, Fi."
She sighed again, turning her eyes back to the computer screen. "Is this what your life's become Michael? Running around like Carla's errand boy?" She made no secret of her distaste for Michael's mysterious contact/handler/tormentor.
"I'm doing this so I can get out from under Carla." Michael explained again. "The guy who blew me up, she hates him, so I would like to meet him. I think I found something." He directed her attention back to the screen for a look at his mystery bomber.
It seemed there was always something or someone to be dealt with. And when it came to Michael, that something had to be dealt with before he could focus on anything or anyone else.
/
They didn't speak about their time together in Ireland very often. It was a bit of an unspoken agreement between them. Fiona was usually the one to bring it up, but she was also the one to deny within her mind. Part of her realised there was a possibility that she wouldn't be able to cope with anything he said about it. She had fallen in love with Michael Westen under a different name, and had been torn to pieces when he left her in the middle of the night without a goodbye. She'd been unsure of what she was doing when she'd turned up at his side in Miami; all because he'd never changed his freaking emergency contact. She knew that she'd always loved him, but his feelings for her were a little harder to decipher.
He had told her shortly after their reunion in Miami that he'd left to protect her as well as himself. He'd also left her again in order to track down the people behind his burn notice. He was so different from the man she'd fallen in love with, but she knew she loved him just as much. Not that she ever said it to him. She couldn't bare another rejection from him. The few times she had managed to bring up the discussion of their relationship, it had not gone well. She was a strong woman, but Michael had always had the ability to tear down her defences in one go.
"I have to say, I like this Johnny. He's got flair." She told him. "He reminds me of your cover in Dublin. Do you remember what you called yourself?" She asked, knowing there was no way he'd forgotten.
"Michael McBride." He uttered, slipping into the Irish accent he'd used while under that cover ID.
Fiona grinned at the sound of the man she'd met and fallen in love with, still familiar to her after so many years. "Michael McBride. Hmm…" She turned to sit in his favourite green chair beside the bed. "Sometimes I wonder if he's the one I fell in love with." She mused out loud.
She was never usually this candid with Michael, but his cover ID for this job was causing her to reminisce. Ever since Campbell had broken up with her they'd been spending more time together again, and it was quite easy to fall back into the routine they'd always had.
"I wouldn't be surprised." Michael told her, his voice still decidedly Irish. "We caused a lot of mayhem, you and I. He was your type of guy."
"Yes, he was." She replied softly. "Where did he go?" Michael Westen was a lot more reserved than his Irish counterpart, more controlled in his actions and not as free with his feelings towards her. It was the thing she missed the most.
"You know how it is with cover IDs. You become who you need to be." The voice of Michael McBride continued to fill the air.
His words cut through her like a knife. Perhaps that was the answer to all of her questions.
They sat in silence for a few moments before she extracted herself from the awkward situation, explaining that she was off to continue the search for Michael's bomber. She left with her heavy heart weighing her down. They weren't in a relationship, but no matter how many times she reminded herself she couldn't stop her chest from aching.
Michael stared at the door she had just exited through, before dropping his hands to his face.
You don't have a personal relationship with an asset. You don't care about an asset. You don't miss the scent of an asset when she leaves the room.
He always missed her when she left, and he never felt more desolate than when she left angry with him.
His line about cover IDs had only been partly true. He'd become whom he needed to be in order to get close to Fiona all those years ago. There had been elements of himself within Michael McBride, but the part that had fallen in love with her was all Michael Westen. He hadn't thought of her as an asset in a long time. He was never supposed to fall for her, but he could never regret it, despite everything they'd been through together.
They weren't in a relationship, but they also weren't not in one. He told himself over and over again that they couldn't be together, that it wasn't smart. He couldn't give her what she needed, what she deserved. But no matter how hard he tried; another part reminded him that he needed her around, because he didn't know what he'd do without her. And he wasn't just talking in a tactical support sense.
/
Back at her own house, Fiona sat despondently on her bed. She needed to get dressed for her meeting at the demolition company, but she couldn't find the energy to make herself move. Their case was bringing back certain memories from her past that she preferred not to think about. Combined with her confusing feelings towards Michael, she was feeling more drained than she was used to. She hated feeling vulnerable more than anything else.
Fiona was not one to dwell on the past. She lived in the moment, and relished the feeling of control over her life, over the situation at hand. She had memories in her life that she preferred to not think of, and most of the time she did a great job of it. Memories of Michael's departure from Ireland, and the following time she spent alone and confused were high on that list. When she'd moved to Miami she'd convinced herself to leave the past behind, and after he'd explained himself as best as he could, she had managed to forgive him, in some sense. Her attempts at discussing how to resume their relationship hadn't gone according to plan, as Michael had shut her down on every occasion. His constant obsession with getting to the bottom of his burn notice was tough to compete with.
She hadn't considered how hard it would be to go on being just friends with him, but as she often told herself, it was better than not being with him at all. Of course, it had cost her her relationship with Campbell. It's not like he had been the love of her life or anything, but she had cared about him. He was a sweet guy, and she had tried to make it work. She'd made an honest attempt to get over Michael, and for awhile she'd thought she was pulling it off. That is, until Campbell had called her out on it. "He's your boyfriend, not me. I'm the guy you fool around with and you borrow ambulances from. He's the most important thing in your life." It had been hard to disagree with him on that. To be fair, she had shoved him in Michael's face a little too much. Now she was alone again, unable to be with Michael, but unable to be without him either.
He had attempted to comfort her after her breakup, telling her she'd find another boyfriend. He'd told her he was sorry, and she'd asked him if that was true. Then he'd given her a picture drawn by Jack, the little boy they'd helped last, and thanked her again, kissing her on the cheek as he left. That was something he did quite rarely, and it was enough to make her heart flutter softly in her chest as much as she hated to admit it.
"I want you to be happy." He'd told her honestly, his blue eyes boring into hers.
She scoffed to herself. You stupid man, she thought, don't you know I can't be happy without you?
She pushed herself off of her bed suddenly, heading over to her wardrobe to find an outfit that would blow the demolition men away. That was enough moping around. She was a Glenanne, and she had a job to do. No matter how angry Michael made her, no matter how confused he made her feel, she would always help him out. It was nice to feel needed, no matter what the situation was.
/
"Michael, I believe I found your bomber's house." Fiona announced over the phone with quietly contained glee. They had finished their job helping Corey and Tanya, so she was now free to focus all her attention on the man who had tried to blow Michael up. As infuriating as he was, she could never stand someone trying to hurt him. Besides her, of course.
"Alright, I'm on my way." He told her.
She quickly described the house to him, noticing that it was clear no one had been there in awhile.
"I think I may go in and poke around a little while I'm waiting." She told him, her voice teasing in a way that only she could manage. He began to protest her plan but she spoke over the top of him. "You think I've never broken into a house before?" Honestly Michael.
"Fiona, just take it easy and be careful." Michael warned her.
She ended the call without a goodbye, crossing the street to the house. One minute he was telling her they couldn't be together and the next he was acting like a protective boyfriend. Ridiculous man.
She made quick work of the lock, breaking in with relative ease. She was taking a look around the place when she simultaneously heard and felt the small click under her feet. Her head whipped up instantly, knowing what that sound meant and what would soon follow. Her suspicions were confirmed when the walls of the house began to go up in flames at an alarming rate.
She leaned back against one of the unharmed walls, taking in the situation. Damn it Michael. Why did you have to be right?
/
"It's Fi. Leave a message."
The beep at the end of her voicemail message rang through Michael's ears as he pulled the Charger to a stop and climbed out, his chest tightening a little when he noticed the fire trucks and various men in uniform.
"Fi, I'm at the address you gave me. Call me back if you get this." He ducked under the yellow caution tape, and as soon as he passed the truck that had been blocking his view, he noticed the house that was engulfed in flames. A man who was presumably in charge stopped Michael as he tried to get closer.
"Did you find anyone in there?" Michael demanded.
"We don't know yet. We haven't been able to confirm, it's too hot …"
Michael became increasingly agitated as he continued to question the man. More men in uniform swarmed him, trying to pull him away from the house.
Fi. She could be inside. What if she's still inside? No, no, no, no, NO.
Michael struggled against the various men, who managed to push him away. He gave one last glance at the burning building before turning around and heading back to the Charger. He quickly glanced at the crowd on the street, hoping Fi would be amongst them, safe and sound. She wasn't. He pulled out his phone to ring her again.
"It's Fi. Leave a message."
"Fi. Fi, pick up the phone. Call me if you get this. I need to know where you are!" Michael begged, unable to keep the panic and desperation out of his voice. He threw the Charger into reverse, intent of searching for her.
She was not in the house. She was not in the house.
He told himself that over and over as he drove across Miami, checking and then double-checking every single emergency rendezvous point they had. He checked her house, his mother's house, Carlito's, and called Sam. He continually called her cell phone, his messages quickly progressing past the point of rational thought into desperation.
"Fi, where are you? Call me back NOW!"
"Why aren't you at any of the emergency points?"
"Call Sam, or my mom. Just call someone, so I can know."
"Please Fi, please."
"Fi … I can't …"
"I wish things could be how they were in Ireland. Just you and me."
"It was always me, Fi. Even when I was Michael McBride. It was always me who loved you." He was now choking on his words.
The city soon turned dark, clouds looming above him and rain pouring down. The weather seemed to be matching his mood.
Reluctantly admitting defeat, he headed back to the loft, drowning in his own despair. He called her one last time as he climbed out of the car.
"It's Fi. Leave a message."
By this point he was calling to hear her voice, just one more time.
He flipped his phone shut and trudged up the stairs, not caring about the rain that continued to soak his already drenched body.
He unlocked the door, entering and shoving it closed before leaning against it, his entire body aching with hopelessness. He was sure he was still her emergency contact; surely someone would be calling him at some point to inform him of what happened.
Oh Fi. Not like this.
"There you are. You have got to get a landline in here."
The voice that interrupted his thoughts caused his back to straighten and his head to rise. He was slow to turn his head; convinced her voice was just a figment of his distressed imagination. He was greeted with the sight of her seated at the kitchen counter.
"Poole rigged his place to burst into flames. It was no surprise, but I let my curiosity get away with me." Fi continued speaking, unaware of the emotions raging through Michael's mind and body.
His keys fell from his hand to the ground as he began to walk towards her, his body shuddering with each step. He had to be closer, had to touch her to convince himself she was real.
"I waited for a burnout in one of the windows, now I need a new cell phone." She explained, holding up her damaged phone as evidence. That would explain all of his calls going to voicemail.
Michael came to a stop in front of her, blinking repeatedly and staring down at her with an intensity he had never felt before. She was really here. The smell of smoke still lingered, convincing him that he was not going insane.
Fiona finally noticed the way he was looking at her, his eyes darker than ever. His face held a mixture of emotions that she'd never seen together on him before; grief and anguish, mixed with disbelief. Her face softened and her mouth opened, as she understood what he must have thought, why he was looking at her like that.
"Michael, you didn't think that …"
Her voice trailed off as his right hand rose to rest on her cheek, before his left joined to cup her face between them. They trailed down the side of her face and down her neck. Raindrops slid down his hair and off his body as he looked at her more tenderly that she'd ever seen him before.
He leaned down to press his forehead to hers, revelling in the feel of her body against his. He had almost believed this would never happen again. Her eyes closed at his tender ministrations, soaking in his presence and the feel of his body against hers. He held her as if she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world.
He shifted his head to envelop her mouth in his, kissing her briefly before pulling back. He returned to her lips and she reciprocated as he wrapped his arms around her small body, crushing her to him fiercely. He poured every emotion that he was feeling into her, convincing himself that she was really here. Her arms came to palm at his back, desperately trying to comfort him with her touch.
He kissed her with such intensity that she felt her energy leaving her. He was all she could feel, everything that mattered.
They pulled apart, their ragged breathing the only sound within the silence of the loft. Michael pressed his forehead against hers again, closing his eyes in an attempt to contain his emotions.
"I thought I'd lost you." His haggard breath washed over her. She'd never heard such desperation in his tone before.
She opened her eyes to look into his eyes, bringing her palm up to his cheek. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I didn't mean to worry you." She could only imagine what he'd gone through in the last few hours.
Michael shook his head against hers. None of it mattered anymore. She was here with him, and that's all that counted. He pulled her into his strong embrace, his hands pressing against her back.
"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." He murmured against her hair. "I can't lose you Fi."
She ran her hands through the back of his rain soaked hair, shocked by his reaction. All week she'd pondered their relationship and his feelings towards her. She'd been so confused, wondering if the man she'd fallen in love with had truly loved her at all. She knew he cared, but was so often frustrated by his ability to communicate, to tell her how he really felt. Yet here he was, lowering all his defensive walls to her, making her forget everything he'd said about his Irish counterpart that had made her chest ache.
"You didn't lose me Michael, I'm right here. I'll always be here." She whispered comfortingly to him, trying to assuage his fears. She knew just how true her words were. She had already accepted that she'd rather be in his life as a friend as opposed to not at all, and his reaction now was confirming her decision. There was no way she would ever be able to leave this man. He was so connected to her in every way.
Michael took in a shuddering breath, letting her reassuring words wash over him. He pressed soft kisses into her hair, moving down the side of her face to press his lips against hers again. She was really here with him.
He kissed her deeply, trying to convey his gratitude and relief through every touch. She kissed him back just as intensely, reassuring him with her presence. Michael bent his knees to pick her up without breaking their embrace, walking them over to his bed.
He laid her down gently, his body resting above hers as he stared into her eyes and brushed a hand over her jaw. She reached up to lock her arms around his neck, pulling his lips back to hers. They moved tenderly against each other, and Fiona had to close her eyes to hide the tears forming in the corners. She had never felt so cherished before.
Michael held her tighter than ever before, while remaining gentle with his movements. For a few hours he had thought they would never do this again, that he would be doomed to live without her for the rest of his life. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feel of her in his arms. She was here. She was alive and with him.
/
Fiona awoke the next morning when Michael pressed a kiss to her cheek, whispering that he'd be right back. She waited until he left before she climbed from the bed and set about finding her clothes. She had no idea how he felt about the events that had transpired the night before, but she knew her heart couldn't take it if he turned around to regret it. She could still remember the last time they'd slept together, how awkward it had been the next morning as they laid in silence. Sure, he'd been the one to initiate it this time, but Michael was notorious for shutting himself off to her. She'd rather hold onto the memories and take them with her before they had the chance to change.
After dressing herself she slipped from the loft, heading home to change. The first order of the day was to get a new cell phone.
"Would you like to keep your old number?" the perky, young salesgirl asked her once she'd chosen a new phone.
Fi thought for a second, mentally running through all the people who had the number, and after reassuring herself that all her contacts were ones she was willing to keep, she nodded at the salesgirl.
Right before she left the store, her new phone buzzed in her hand. 23 missed calls. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Would my unread messages have transferred over to this phone?" she asked the girl.
"Yes, they would. It's part of the new features in this one." The young girl beamed.
Fi nodded her thanks and headed off, waiting until she was back in her car to listen to the long list of messages.
"Fi, I'm at the address you gave me. Call me back if you get this." Michael's voice ran through the phone. She quickly deleted it and moved on to the next one.
"Fi. Fi, pick up the phone. Call me if you get this. I need to know where you are!"
Her chest clenched at his frantic tone, remembering the haunted look in his eyes the night before. Deleting it as she had the first, she waited to hear the next message.
"Why aren't you at any of the emergency points?"
She had to give him that, since they had various emergency points for that purpose. In her defence, she hadn't known that he was searching for her, and she hadn't deemed it as an emergency since she had been unharmed. She had been more concerned with getting home to shower the scent of smoke off of her.
With each consecutive message her chest tightened a little bit more, her mind visualising Michael driving all over Miami as he searched for her. His voice became increasingly panicked with each call. She'd also received a couple of calls from Sam and Madeleine, obviously having spoken to Michael. It was the next message that really hit her in the gut.
"I wish things could be how they were in Ireland. Just you and me."
Her hand flew to her mouth as she registered his words. Her fingers hastily pressed on to the next call.
"It was always me, Fi. Even when I was Michael McBride. It was always me who loved you."
Tears filled her eyes as she heard him say the words she'd always secretly longed to hear.
By the last call, all that could be heard over the line was the sound of his ragged breathing, with the heavy rain in the background. She quickly threw the car in to drive and raced back to the loft. She couldn't believe she'd left after how he had felt the night before, after he'd been convinced he'd lost her forever. She had promised she would always be right there, and then she'd left.
Making it to the loft in record time, she parked the car and headed up the metal stairs. She hesitated for the briefest second before pushing the door open and sliding inside.
Michael stood in the kitchen, surprise colouring his features when his eyes fell upon her.
"You left." His tone was more confused than accusatory, and Fi thought she could detect the slightest bit of hurt.
"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry."
The two of them stood in silence for a moment before Fi began to move towards him, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the counter.
"I wasn't entirely sure what last night was … so I left." She explained.
Michael's brow furrowed in confusion. He thought he'd made his feelings perfectly clear.
"Until last night, I had been questioning your feelings towards me." Fi continued slowly, uncomfortable with where their conversation was going. However, she knew she had to be honest. "I wasn't sure how much you cared."
Michael's eyes widened as he took in her words. "How could you … I thought I made my feelings clear last night Fi."
"You did, but it's every other time that contradicts you, Michael." Fi responded bluntly.
Michael nodded in understanding.
"I know I've always been the one who says we can't be together, but it's not because I don't want to. Last night I really thought I'd lost you, and that was the worst feeling I have ever felt."
Fi nodded slowly. "So you do still care." It was more of a statement than a question, but she had to be sure.
Michael sighed in exasperation. "Of course I do, Fi!"
"Well you can't blame me for not being sure, you're always so shut off!" She snapped back at him.
"Fi, I don't know how to do any of this!" He exclaimed. "I've never been the guy to worry about anyone else, to care about someone this much. I'm not wired for a relationship! All I know is that when I thought you were dead … without you …" His voice trailed off, pain evident in his eyes as he begged for her to understand.
She stepped forward, into the circle of his arms.
"I know, Michael, I do." She whispered comfortingly.
His grip around her tightened. "I don't know how to do this, Fi, and I'm sorry. It was so much easier in Ireland, without this burn notice hanging over my head, and faceless enemies to deal with. If something ever happened to you because of me, I'd never forgive myself." He'd never been this candid and honest with her before, but she was the only one would made him feel like it was almost okay to be vulnerable. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
It suddenly made sense to her. All those times he'd told her they couldn't be together, that he was endangering her life, he really believed it. He wasn't just trying to keep her around purely for tactical support.
She tilted her head up to capture his lips with hers. He pulled her body closer to him, and the two of them remained locked together for a few minutes.
Eventually Fi pulled away, grinning up at Michael.
"Is that breakfast I smell?" She smiled.
Michael smiled back, unable to find fault with the world when she was in his arms. "How does a Spanish egg white omelette sound?"
He swore in that moment her eyes twinkled, and he'd never seen anything more beautiful than her.
"I've always said you spoil me, Michael." She purred.
She followed him into the kitchen and sat herself down on a stool as he served their breakfast. She didn't know what the future held for them, but she knew without a doubt that he was it for her. Their relationship was far from conventional, but they'd make it work. They always managed to.