Timeline: AU- sometime after the end of Season 2
Summary: Campbell comes back into their lives and brings more than tension with him.
Ships: Michael/Fiona; Campbell/Fiona
Chapter 1- Two life-shattering words
Clang. Clash. Crash.
"Where is it?" he muttered as he dug through his toolbox. "It was right there!"
Screwdrivers, clippers, a hammer or two, a wrench, three boxes of nails, a stud finder, zip ties, a box of bullets, a few cans of gunpowder…but no pliers. Bugs and GPS trackers didn't make themselves. How was he supposed to finish them by the meet?
The door to the loft flew open, carrying a bright beam of sunlight through the small crack. It vanished as it slammed shut. He looked up from the workbench to find a very unhappy Fi walking towards him.
"Fi. Hi. I was just finishing the bug and tracker. You wouldn't happen to know where I put my pliers, would you?"
The look she sent him was poisonous enough to have killed someone. "Why do you always ask me where things are? I don't live here, Michael. You live here. I'm not your housekeeper!"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"I don't know where your pliers are! Why would I know where your pliers are? Sam would have a better chance of knowing where your damn pliers are!"
He frowned. "I said sorry…"
She huffed and briskly wandered over to the bed. He tried to ignore the scowl on her face, but it didn't take long to wear him down.
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh no. Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Everything is just great," she snapped venomously.
He set the tube of industrial strength glue aside and leaned on the bench with both palms. "What's bothering you? Don't lie."
"Why not? Spies aren't the only people in the world that should be allowed to lie. Or maybe that's just men and being a spy nothing to do with it."
He didn't have to say anything else. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm pregnant."
He froze. Everything around him stopped. Surely she didn't say what he thought she said. She gave him a moment to absorb the two, life-shattering words. I'm pregnant.
After another minute or so, his brain decided to let him rejoin the real world.
"I took the test ten times, Michael. I'm positive."
Thoughts started racing through his mind like bullets in a shootout. Fi—his Fi—was going to have a baby. He was going to be a father. He wanted to smile and scream at the same time. His dad wasn't pop of the year and he didn't want to be like that. He wanted to be there for his kid. Not in the loft. The loft wasn't a safe environment for a child. They'd have to find a new place. Fi's condo wasn't too bad. What about work? Obviously getting off the blacklist was no longer an option. Funny how that didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He'd have to find a new job, a safer one. Helping people made some money, but not enough to support a family. Family. He'd never really had one. But now he would. There's no one else he'd rather have one with. Fi was more like family than anyone else ever was. Speaking of Fi…
"Michael?" from the tone of her voice, it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention.
"That's not all I have to say."
There was more? What else could there possibly be? She didn't want to give the baby up, did she? No. She wouldn't. That wasn't her style. She loved kids. But she loved explosives too. Maybe she was worried about the life they could offer a child. There was no way he'd give up their baby. Besides, if he or she took after even half of one of them, no one else could handle the hell they'd raise. He could picture it. A two year old boy with her eyes and his smile trying to blow up the sofa…
"I figured that the time of conception is between the night we were together and the job we worked right after Victor tried to blow you up," she tried to explain, although it didn't get through. The blank expression on his face said it all, so she continued, "I was still dating Campbell then."
He grimaced at the mention of his name. Campbell. The man was named after chicken noodle soup. What did he have to do with anything? Oh wait…
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I'm saying that I don't know if the last time I was with Campbell or the last time I was with you got me pregnant."
Just like that, everything he'd been thinking about, the sense of happiness that had been dormant for so long, was gone. The two year old would have her eyes and Campbell's dorky grin and instead of blowing up the sofa, he'd be riding around in Campbell's ambulance playing with stethoscopes and dreaming of growing up to be just like his dad…Campbell. His Fi would be Campbell's Fi and Fi's baby would be Campbell's baby when it should be his.
"Michael? Did you hear me?"
He nodded stiffly. "Yeah, Fi. I heard you."
"Obviously, I'm keeping the baby. DNA tests are available while you're still pregnant. There is some risk, but I think that we need to know. I'm about eight weeks along. The test is done at around twenty weeks. Until then we'll just have to wait and see."
She scoffed. "I'm far from together. I'm not exactly ready to become a mother. That isn't to say that I'm not happy about it. It just complicates things. A lot will have to change and not knowing who it's going to change with is making it even worse. I decided to tell you first, since we have so much history. I have to call Campbell soon. That'll be interesting…"
He folded his arms defensively. The question he was about to ask wasn't one he wanted to. Not unless he was ready to deflect any emotion it caused. "What are you going to do when you find out whose it is? What if it's Campbell's? What if it's mine?"
"I don't want to talk about that now. I've had a strange day. We have twelve weeks to figure out what to do before we know for sure. I'd rather wait until the shock has worn off. I still have Campbell to talk to, not to mention Sam and your mother."
Great. She was going to tell Madeline. That would go over well. If it wasn't his, she'd be crushed. If it was, she wouldn't leave them alone ever again. What great options.
"My mother? Really?"
"She has a right to know. This could be her grandchild," she returned as she placed a tender hand on her still-flat stomach. "Michael…" she muttered softly.
"What are you thinking? I can never tell."
He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It's a lot to take in, Fi."
"It is. I should be going. I have that call to make."
She got up and moved towards the door. She opened it and paused, gazing back at him for a brief moment. They both thought that they saw a shadow of tears in the other one's eyes, and they were both right.
"Take care of yourself," he told her seriously. The last thing he wanted was for the baby to be lost.
She nodded and picked up a pair of pliers from a makeshift table by the door. "You needed pliers, right?"
"Yeah. I'll get them in minute."
She set them down and walked out of the loft. The door shut with a muted bang and he slumped against the fridge. One minute he was worrying about pliers and the next he was worrying about parenthood and paternity. Only Fiona Glenanne could turn his life upside down with two words and still make him miss her the second she left the room.