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11 October 2010 @ 10:51 am
Burn Notice Fiction: "Volatile Chemistry" (Fi, Michael, PG)  
Title: Volatile Chemistry
Fandom: Burn Notice
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Fi, Michael (Gen)
Rating: PG
Summary: Michael was the most frustrating man Fi had ever known.
Author's Notes: For Round 2 of usanetwork_las ("Get mad, get over it.")

x-x-x-x-x

Without a doubt, Michael was the most frustrating man Fi had ever known. She'd been all over the world and had a lifetime of comparisons to draw on, but it didn't change a thing. A lesser woman would have killed him by now.

When he left her and Ireland behind, that was because the job was over. She didn't like it, but she understood. Michael was an agent then; he didn't choose where he was sent. But ditching her and everything she'd helped him build in Miami—just for another piece to the puzzle of who'd burned him—that was another story. He drove off into the jaws of danger while her tears and pleas fell unheeded behind him.

She eventually forgave him for it, but it wasn't easy.

This morning had started out fine, with the two of them having breakfast in the loft. Then Michael asked her to come as backup for a meeting with a key player, which meant he'd found a source that could as easily kill him as help him. It was bad enough that he kept chasing the past, but did he have to risk his life over it? What was the point? She stormed out the door and sped off in her car before he could say another word.

Michael had a good thing here in Miami. Hell, they had a good thing here, together. Why couldn't that ever be enough?

By the time she reached her apartment, she was angrier than ever. She stomped through the front door and paced furiously around the living room, unable to stop moving. God, she really needed to hit something right now, before she drove back over and murdered Michael with one of his own barstools.

The dark shape in the corner of the guest room caught her eye. Yes! So what if having a punching bag as décor was tacky? It was her apartment, and that punching bag saw a lot more action than the rest of the guest room did. There was a reason she'd gotten the thing in the first place, damn it.

Fi yanked on a sports bra and gloves, and marched into the bedroom to get down to business.

She circled the bag as if she were sizing up an enemy, her temper still raging inside her. Squinting at one spot in particular, she imagined Michael's face there instead, smiling at her smugly and expecting her to agree with whatever he wanted. God, she was so damned tired of that, of all of it! She nailed his stupid head with a solid right punch, the impact vibrating through her. That was for making her fall in love with him all over again. She punched the bag again, hard, harder, followed by a brutal judo kick to the center. That was what Michael deserved for delivering himself into the hands of the people who'd tried to destroy him.

Fi bounced, jabbed, pounded, and kicked, blows for every moment of aggravation Michael had ever caused her. They mounted up behind her fists until her arms ached and her forehead streamed with sweat, and it was the most satisfied she'd felt in a long time. Only the ringing of the telephone made her stop.

"Hello," she said breathlessly, her attention still on the bag and the punishment that awaited it.

"Fi," Michael said softly, his voice curling around her as if searching for a place to take hold.

She pushed her reaction to it away, refusing the familiar trap. "I already said no."

Michael sighed. "I know you did, Fi." He was quiet for a moment. "But I have to do this—it might be the only chance I have. And you know how dangerous things can get. I could really use your help."

That was one of the things that was so infuriating about Michael, because he would go ahead with it even if she didn't, no matter how stupid it was or how serious the risk.

He also knew that she knew it.

Fi screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip. If something happened to Michael and she wasn't there to prevent it… she couldn't finish the thought. Damn him for putting her in this position again.

She forced her anger down. This wasn't the time, no matter how much she'd earned it.

"All right." The words felt as if they were being ripped from her very skin, taking pieces of her with them. She shuddered and let the last of them go:

"I'm in."


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The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Burn Notice Flamingohalfshellvenus on October 14th, 2010 07:58 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you liked this, and your words made me very happy. I get such a kick out of the characters on this show, all of them so different and not always on the easiest of terms. Their loyalty, and their individual style and fire, just keep drawing me back, even as I think I'm done writing them. :)
In here, everything is beautiful...rise_your_dead on October 17th, 2010 12:16 pm (UTC)
Aww, I'm glad they did! :) And you do a great job reflecting how awesome those characters are in your fics :).