Despite what most people thought, Fiona Glenanne was not all punches, kicks, bombs, and guns.

Michael Westen couldn't exactly deny that those four things did make up most of his questionably stable ex(?)girlfriend's unquestionably unstable personality. But every once in a while, he'd catch her with her guard down; he'd see through the seemingly cold steel of her expression, the mistrusting titanium in her eyes, the constantly detonating C4 that made up her explosive mind. The moment would last for a split second at best, but when it happened, Michael just couldn't keep himself from smiling.

Sometimes Fiona could be something resembling cute.

He imagined that she'd laugh at the accusation if he ever brought it up, then probably lunge at him in an attempt to engage in some good old Fiona rage sex, the kind that Michael outwardly shook his head at but secretly made him find her that much more engaging to be with. Or not be with.

Whatever.

It was those times when she'd giggle at the thought of tasing a man senseless. The satisfied look on her face after she'd bested some thug during good shootout. The giddy smile she'd get in her eyes as she mixed simple hardware store supplies to make a bomb of devastating proportions, splotches of her little project present on her face and neck, reminiscent of a small child who hadn't been careful with her finger paint. The happy little skip she'd follow him with every time he walked away from a case well-solved, slipping the nine millimeter she clutched with such familiarity into a leg holster under a flowing knee-length white skirt, fitting so perfectly into the carefree Miami Beach scene with a sidearm plastered to a body part at all times.

Fiona had once spitefully told him to get "a twenty-four-year-old with huge fake tits". Michael had honestly responded with a sentence so simple it had actually managed to shut her up, if only for a moment:

"They bore me."

And they did. Fiona was a uniquely broken blender of beauty, chaos, danger, insanity, and even cute, and Michael wouldn't want to be close to anyone who was anything less than everything she both was and wasn't.

Fiona Glenanne was probably the cutest, most viciously lethal, and most addicting woman Michael Westen had ever met, and he'd be in for an epic ass kicking if he ever actually told her.

--

Burn Notice wins. Fiona and Michael win even more. Such is life.