Under the Pouring Rain
This one is for my darlin', who I pride myself in the fact that I introduced this show to you and got you hooked. BD Aren't ya glad?
Authors Note: If only I owned any little part of this show, but I don't. The genius of it all belongs to the actors who portray these characters so brilliantly and of course, Matt Nix.
The house. Up in flames. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be. She can't be. He tried to get a better look. The closer he got, the more the fear filled his body. They wouldn't let him near it, they wouldn't tell him anything. All they did was push him away. He couldn't take it. He tried calling again.
"It's Fi. Leave a message." The same answer. He was really starting to panic.
"Fi, Fi pick up the phone!" he said urgently as he was getting into the Charger. "Call me if you get this. I need to know where you are." Michael said desperately into the phone. He drove off to all the places he could think of that she might go to. He had no luck anywhere. He had even asked Sam and his mother if they had heard anything. Both of them told him no. All he could do was drive around in circles, trying to figure out how he could have let this happen. He kept trying her cell phone. Kept getting the same damn answer. It started to rain. He drove by her apartment one last time before going back to the loft.
"It's Fi. Leave a message." He tried one last futile attempt as he pulled into the loft. He stepped out of the car slowly, not even giving the rain a thought. The water felt refreshing against his skin. It did not do anything to snap him out of his daze. He kept thinking over and over again about how guilty he felt, how terrible he had treated her. She had gotten a boyfriend, Campbell, just to spite him She knew Michael would always be the one for her, yet was surprised when Campbell called it off. Michael couldn't have been any happier. He wanted her to be happy, since the beginning, but didn't know how to put himself in that position. Last time he did, it ended up causing more hurt than happiness. But now, now there was no point to that. The woman he loved, the one thing that kept him going, was gone. He was done. He opened the door, drenched in water. Closing it shut, he needed a minute to collect himself. Using the wall as support, he tried to breathe. Tried to accept it.
"There you are. You have got to get a landline in here." An all too familiar voice came from the kitchen. He looked at what seemed like Fiona sitting at his counter. She kept talking about Poole, and how he'd rigged his house, and how she got out by waiting for a burn out in the windows. He knew what she was saying, yet didn't take in any of it. She was a ghost. An appearance. His guilt coming out to haunt him. As she slowly approached her, he began to realize it all felt too real. But, it can't be. I saw the house up in flames. He stopped standing inches away from her. The way he was looking at her scared Fiona. She'd only seen him like this one. Back in Ireland. There was only one other time she saw him with this expression in his eyes, when he thought she was dead.
"Michael…you didn't think that…" he words trailed off. His hands, wet and cold, reached out to her. He felt her. She was really there. She was alive. She closed her eyes to his touch, only to open them back up as he rested his forehead on hers. She couldn't tell if he was crying on account of his dripping wet face. He knew what he needed. Slowly, he leaned in, kissing her softly. Fiona looked at him quickly, seeing the panic start to fade away, but there was still fear in his eyes. He kissed her again, this time pulling her into a tight embrace, not sure if she was just going to disappear. He wouldn't let that happen. She didn't. She didn't even think about how wet he was and how the water was seeping into her clothes, she kissed him back, wrapping her leg around his calf, running her hands up and down his wet back. They stayed, locked in that embrace, until Fiona felt Michael shiver a little. She reached down and pulled his shirt over his head. She slowly kissed him down his neck, to his shoulders, and chest. "I'm here, Michael. It's okay." She said in between kisses. He slid his hands up the back of her shirt, needing to feel her skin against his. It was difficult since her shirt was wet and sticking to her. He quickly pulled it off, immediately pulling her closer to him. The heat of their bodies pressed together warmed them up.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Fiona realized what she had just done. She lay in bed trying to figure out what to do. She quietly crawled out from under his embrace, found her clothes, and walked out of the loft. The sun was barely coming out and the coolness of the wet morning woke her up. She couldn't stay; she wouldn't know what to say to him. Just a while ago she had decided to try to move on with her life, to move on away from him. She couldn't bear to wake up in his arms and see him looking at him like how he did just a few hours ago. Every effort she had made to put her feelings behind her would have flown out the window. So, she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She left.