michael's cabin ][ stupid me for thinking I was the only one you ever needed
It was a feeling that had been beating through her for awhile. It started as a dull ache after her chat with Sophie weeks before, about their mutual understanding in what wasn't meant to be, and from there it grew. A need to talk to him and clear the air between them. Things weren't awkward per say, and they got along the same as they always had when they spent time together with Sam, but sometimes it wasn't so simple. Sometimes...looking at him just hurt.
She knew. She had known for a long time that she and Michael just weren't meant to be.
When she first realized he had washed up on the island she had that glimmer of hope. That idea that maybe, just maybe, this was where they could finally make things work. In a place where he couldn't constantly run from her, a place where they could start fresh and having something almost normal.
It wasn't that easy though. Even though she had been there for several months before him, she still had lived through more events back home than he had. She hadn't know what to do with any of it in the first place, and having Michael there with different memories only made it harder.
Nothing was rushed into. If anything things were just more strained. They kept a distance for awhile, because neither knew the answer to any of it. And somewhere in there, she lost him. Somewhere in there waiting for her was no longer enough for him.
She learned to deal with it. She learned to live with it. Sometimes that meant keeping far, far away from the beach or the cabins, but that was self-preservation more than anything else. If she didn't feel like she could stand by him and not care, then she would stay away. Over time it got easier. She could be around him more, she could even be around Jess.
But really all she had done with all of her feelings and issues was bury them, and that was really only going to last so long until they surfaced.
It started before that conversation with Sophie, but the conversation tipped the scales. From there Eliot pulled more from her. She still wasn't sure how, because it was just a game in the beginning. He was someone good looking and easy to be around, and beating him up always made her feel a hell of a lot better. But at the same time, it was never just beating him up. It had been foreplay from the moment he put his hands on her. The way they pushed and shoved, kicked and pulled. There would be times that his body was pressed against hers, and she looked up into his eyes, and all she could see in any direction was him. No Michael, no past, no confusion, just Eliot.
Even when they weren't sparring she could feel something there. In the way they tossed words around, walked close together without actually touching, and the direct way their eyes would meet. She felt a desire beat through her that she hadn't felt in a long time, and even better she could feel his desire for her. Maybe she needed that. Needed to be wanted and desired. Maybe that was why she pushed at him, wanting him to do something. She was sick of being the person waiting, the person chasing, and the person left out in the cold. She wanted him to want her more than she wanted him. She wanted him to take her on his own and just give her something to feel again.
And despite it all, Michael was still with her at the end of the day. He was in the back of her mind reminding her that nothing could truly last, and that she would always be waiting out in the cold.
She couldn't take it anymore. She was sick of letting him make her into some small, tired creature. She had to talk to him. Actually talk for once. It wasn't like she had never forced him to do so before.
Normally she would have walked right in and confronted him, but she no longer had that right in his life. She had been reduced to someone who had to knock on his door and wait for him to answer. When he did, she just stared him straight in the eye.
"We need to talk. Right now."
***
Michael's eyes widened a bit at the unexpected words, but he just nodded and took a step aside. Whether he and Fiona were together or not, he obviously knew well enough by then when to say no to her and when to just let things roll.
Fiona stepped in, her hands on her hips, and glanced around. She caught Jess' eye, who was sitting on the bed. Jess raised her brows and glanced between the two before she pulled to her feet.
"Yeah, I'm outta here." She gave Michael's arm a squeeze and nodded to Fiona, then walked out the door and pulled it shut behind her. Fiona did feel bad about it, but she also knew Jess well enough to know that she wouldn't have left if she had a problem with Fiona being there.
"Fiona. To what do I owe this visit?" Michael crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at her.
She looked up and met his eyes. She couldn't count how many times she had looked into those eyes, feeling more in love than she had ever felt with anyone. Oh the things she had done, given up, for those eyes. She quickly pushed that away and held her chin high.
"Why?"
"Why what?" He watched her, and she knew he could tell this was something serious. He was being quiet and gentle.
"Why her? Why...I waited for you forever, Michael. Why didn't you wait for me?"
His hand came up over his jaw and he sighed. It was quickly apparent to her that he had felt this conversation coming just as much as she had. "Because I thought you were done waiting. Because...you had been here for so long before me, and I thought maybe you had come to terms with the fact that you deserve...better."
"Don't you even-" Her hand moved to slap him, but she held back. Instead she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Don't tell me what I do and don't deserve like it's some...cop out for you, Michael. You didn't give me anything. I was here every day worrying whether you would show up, worrying what was going on at home, worrying...about you."
"And you don't deserve that," he said softly, his eyes falling. He didn't even move or hold up a defensive hand, even though he had to have guessed she would feel the urge again to hit him. She didn't reach out to strike again. Instead she took a step back.
"So. You started sleeping with her for my benefit?"
"No." His voice was harder around the edges that time, and she knew she was reaching sensitive ground. She knew pushing at that point was playing with fire, but she almost wanted that fire from him again.
"Did you meet her before or after this little revelation?"
"Fi..."
"Well, we're talking about things I deserve, right? I think I deserve to know that much."
His jaw was set, stubbornly so. She knew that position well. She also knew how to keep prodding until she got some kind of reaction from him. He must have been thinking the same thing, that she wouldn't give in, because his head just shook slowly. "The first time I saw you here. That's when I decided."
She took another step back, her arms crossing her chest as well. If she had known he had never had any intention in the first place, she could have saved herself a lot of disappointment. As it was, disappointment was already washing over her.
"And then you started avoiding me, so I thought you felt the same way. I thought...I had made the right decision." His words continued, but they were just bouncing around the room, hitting her again and again. And it was painful.
"You gave up on us before we had a real chance to start?" Her words were soft, hurt.
He wouldn't even look at her anymore. "I thought you already had."
"I never-" Her words came out in a bite, but she held them back for a moment. She pressed her lips in a line and shook her head, before trying again. "I guess that's where the difference has always been. I have always been waiting for you, and you have always been waiting for..." Her head shook and she gazed up at him. "For what, Michael?"
She could see that his whole body was tense. She knew. She knew him better than he ever realized she did, and she knew that she was not only getting through to him, but that there was still something residual there for him as well. She knew that a million reasons were running through his head and that he was scanning through each one until he could produce the one that would show the least amount of weakness on his end. She knew that it was killing him. And yet she pressed on.
"Was it me? Was there-" She hated the way her voice shook, making her hard resolve a lie. But then he had always been the one that could test that resolve of hers. He had always been the one to break down any wall she held up to him. "I need to know," she whispered.
His eyes were on her quick with those few words, and she knew she had given away everything in her tone. She could tell by the look on his face that he had just seen how small she felt. He started to shake his head and step closer to her.
"It was me, Fi. It...was always me. I was waiting for...myself." His words were quiet as well, but he didn't let go of her gaze. There had always been a link between them, that line, that when they finally pushed each other across it they could say anything. He was there with her, and she was going to hold him there until she heard what she needed to hear.
"I was waiting to be enough for you," he went on.
"And that's what makes you a masochist, Michael." Her head tipped back more so she could keep her eyes on his as he got closer. "You always were enough for me. I just wanted you. Not...whoever it was you thought you had to be."
His hand came to her cheek and her eyes closed at the touch. A few tears forced themselves from her eyes when she did, but she ignored them. She felt his lips press at her forehead and she leaned into him, her hand wrapping around his wrist.
"Do you know how much I loved you?" She whispered.
"Yes," he whispered back. "And I was tired of breaking your heart."
"So you broke it anyway."
"I broke my own right with it, Fi."
She pushed him away a bit so she could look up at him again, but his hand didn't move from her cheek and she didn't let go of his wrist. "And she makes you happier than I could?"
"No." He shook his head, his thumb stroking her cheek. "No one will ever be you. No one will be to me what you...always will be. But she- Jess does make me happy in her own way. I didn't go looking for it, it found me. I never meant to hurt you."
She nodded and squeezed onto his wrist tighter. "I want you to be happy. I just never imagined I would want you to be happy with another woman." Because in the end, no matter what she felt and what they said to each other, she knew he was happy with Jess in a way he had never been with her. Even if that didn't necessarily mean it was a better way.
"I'm sorry," he murmured again.
She didn't know how to respond to that. She could tell it was hurting him, and she didn't want it to. Sure there were times she wished infinite amounts of pain on him, but not like that. She didn't then, nor would she ever, understand that man's role in her life. Suddenly, as bad as she felt, she felt even worse that he was obviously still hurting too. Her arms looped around his neck tightly and she hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, and they simply held each other for a long time.
When she finally pulled away, because she had to make sure she was the one to pull away first, she quickly wiped her face. He didn't let her go too far from his arms without looking at her with gentle, probing eyes.
"I do love you, Fi."
A wry smirk crossed her lips and she nodded. If she let those words sink in for too long, she knew she'd just be more of a mess. "Of course you do," she said lightly. "I'm me."
He smirked at that and let her go. "Will you be okay?"
"Me? Fine. I'll be fine." She waved him off and turned away to close her eyes and catch her breath. She needed a minute, just a minute. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Of course."
She nodded and went in there, pushing the door shut behind her and leaning against it for a minute. Then she leaned over the sink and rinsed her face off and toweled it dry. She looked at herself in the mirror for several beats, then headed back towards Michael and the front door.
"I should go."
"Stop by more often," he said. His tone was gentle and she knew he meant it completely. She just nodded, keeping her back to him.
"Like you could get rid of me."
"I wouldn't want to."
She bit her tongue, not wanting to go back in the conversation, and moved to pull the door open. Before she actually could she paused, but she didn't look back at him. "I love you too, Michael."
And with those final words said she continued out the door and didn't look back, but somehow she knew that he had closed the door behind her so that he didn't have to watch her walk away.
She knew. She had known for a long time that she and Michael just weren't meant to be.
When she first realized he had washed up on the island she had that glimmer of hope. That idea that maybe, just maybe, this was where they could finally make things work. In a place where he couldn't constantly run from her, a place where they could start fresh and having something almost normal.
It wasn't that easy though. Even though she had been there for several months before him, she still had lived through more events back home than he had. She hadn't know what to do with any of it in the first place, and having Michael there with different memories only made it harder.
Nothing was rushed into. If anything things were just more strained. They kept a distance for awhile, because neither knew the answer to any of it. And somewhere in there, she lost him. Somewhere in there waiting for her was no longer enough for him.
She learned to deal with it. She learned to live with it. Sometimes that meant keeping far, far away from the beach or the cabins, but that was self-preservation more than anything else. If she didn't feel like she could stand by him and not care, then she would stay away. Over time it got easier. She could be around him more, she could even be around Jess.
But really all she had done with all of her feelings and issues was bury them, and that was really only going to last so long until they surfaced.
It started before that conversation with Sophie, but the conversation tipped the scales. From there Eliot pulled more from her. She still wasn't sure how, because it was just a game in the beginning. He was someone good looking and easy to be around, and beating him up always made her feel a hell of a lot better. But at the same time, it was never just beating him up. It had been foreplay from the moment he put his hands on her. The way they pushed and shoved, kicked and pulled. There would be times that his body was pressed against hers, and she looked up into his eyes, and all she could see in any direction was him. No Michael, no past, no confusion, just Eliot.
Even when they weren't sparring she could feel something there. In the way they tossed words around, walked close together without actually touching, and the direct way their eyes would meet. She felt a desire beat through her that she hadn't felt in a long time, and even better she could feel his desire for her. Maybe she needed that. Needed to be wanted and desired. Maybe that was why she pushed at him, wanting him to do something. She was sick of being the person waiting, the person chasing, and the person left out in the cold. She wanted him to want her more than she wanted him. She wanted him to take her on his own and just give her something to feel again.
And despite it all, Michael was still with her at the end of the day. He was in the back of her mind reminding her that nothing could truly last, and that she would always be waiting out in the cold.
She couldn't take it anymore. She was sick of letting him make her into some small, tired creature. She had to talk to him. Actually talk for once. It wasn't like she had never forced him to do so before.
Normally she would have walked right in and confronted him, but she no longer had that right in his life. She had been reduced to someone who had to knock on his door and wait for him to answer. When he did, she just stared him straight in the eye.
"We need to talk. Right now."
***
Michael's eyes widened a bit at the unexpected words, but he just nodded and took a step aside. Whether he and Fiona were together or not, he obviously knew well enough by then when to say no to her and when to just let things roll.
Fiona stepped in, her hands on her hips, and glanced around. She caught Jess' eye, who was sitting on the bed. Jess raised her brows and glanced between the two before she pulled to her feet.
"Yeah, I'm outta here." She gave Michael's arm a squeeze and nodded to Fiona, then walked out the door and pulled it shut behind her. Fiona did feel bad about it, but she also knew Jess well enough to know that she wouldn't have left if she had a problem with Fiona being there.
"Fiona. To what do I owe this visit?" Michael crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at her.
She looked up and met his eyes. She couldn't count how many times she had looked into those eyes, feeling more in love than she had ever felt with anyone. Oh the things she had done, given up, for those eyes. She quickly pushed that away and held her chin high.
"Why?"
"Why what?" He watched her, and she knew he could tell this was something serious. He was being quiet and gentle.
"Why her? Why...I waited for you forever, Michael. Why didn't you wait for me?"
His hand came up over his jaw and he sighed. It was quickly apparent to her that he had felt this conversation coming just as much as she had. "Because I thought you were done waiting. Because...you had been here for so long before me, and I thought maybe you had come to terms with the fact that you deserve...better."
"Don't you even-" Her hand moved to slap him, but she held back. Instead she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Don't tell me what I do and don't deserve like it's some...cop out for you, Michael. You didn't give me anything. I was here every day worrying whether you would show up, worrying what was going on at home, worrying...about you."
"And you don't deserve that," he said softly, his eyes falling. He didn't even move or hold up a defensive hand, even though he had to have guessed she would feel the urge again to hit him. She didn't reach out to strike again. Instead she took a step back.
"So. You started sleeping with her for my benefit?"
"No." His voice was harder around the edges that time, and she knew she was reaching sensitive ground. She knew pushing at that point was playing with fire, but she almost wanted that fire from him again.
"Did you meet her before or after this little revelation?"
"Fi..."
"Well, we're talking about things I deserve, right? I think I deserve to know that much."
His jaw was set, stubbornly so. She knew that position well. She also knew how to keep prodding until she got some kind of reaction from him. He must have been thinking the same thing, that she wouldn't give in, because his head just shook slowly. "The first time I saw you here. That's when I decided."
She took another step back, her arms crossing her chest as well. If she had known he had never had any intention in the first place, she could have saved herself a lot of disappointment. As it was, disappointment was already washing over her.
"And then you started avoiding me, so I thought you felt the same way. I thought...I had made the right decision." His words continued, but they were just bouncing around the room, hitting her again and again. And it was painful.
"You gave up on us before we had a real chance to start?" Her words were soft, hurt.
He wouldn't even look at her anymore. "I thought you already had."
"I never-" Her words came out in a bite, but she held them back for a moment. She pressed her lips in a line and shook her head, before trying again. "I guess that's where the difference has always been. I have always been waiting for you, and you have always been waiting for..." Her head shook and she gazed up at him. "For what, Michael?"
She could see that his whole body was tense. She knew. She knew him better than he ever realized she did, and she knew that she was not only getting through to him, but that there was still something residual there for him as well. She knew that a million reasons were running through his head and that he was scanning through each one until he could produce the one that would show the least amount of weakness on his end. She knew that it was killing him. And yet she pressed on.
"Was it me? Was there-" She hated the way her voice shook, making her hard resolve a lie. But then he had always been the one that could test that resolve of hers. He had always been the one to break down any wall she held up to him. "I need to know," she whispered.
His eyes were on her quick with those few words, and she knew she had given away everything in her tone. She could tell by the look on his face that he had just seen how small she felt. He started to shake his head and step closer to her.
"It was me, Fi. It...was always me. I was waiting for...myself." His words were quiet as well, but he didn't let go of her gaze. There had always been a link between them, that line, that when they finally pushed each other across it they could say anything. He was there with her, and she was going to hold him there until she heard what she needed to hear.
"I was waiting to be enough for you," he went on.
"And that's what makes you a masochist, Michael." Her head tipped back more so she could keep her eyes on his as he got closer. "You always were enough for me. I just wanted you. Not...whoever it was you thought you had to be."
His hand came to her cheek and her eyes closed at the touch. A few tears forced themselves from her eyes when she did, but she ignored them. She felt his lips press at her forehead and she leaned into him, her hand wrapping around his wrist.
"Do you know how much I loved you?" She whispered.
"Yes," he whispered back. "And I was tired of breaking your heart."
"So you broke it anyway."
"I broke my own right with it, Fi."
She pushed him away a bit so she could look up at him again, but his hand didn't move from her cheek and she didn't let go of his wrist. "And she makes you happier than I could?"
"No." He shook his head, his thumb stroking her cheek. "No one will ever be you. No one will be to me what you...always will be. But she- Jess does make me happy in her own way. I didn't go looking for it, it found me. I never meant to hurt you."
She nodded and squeezed onto his wrist tighter. "I want you to be happy. I just never imagined I would want you to be happy with another woman." Because in the end, no matter what she felt and what they said to each other, she knew he was happy with Jess in a way he had never been with her. Even if that didn't necessarily mean it was a better way.
"I'm sorry," he murmured again.
She didn't know how to respond to that. She could tell it was hurting him, and she didn't want it to. Sure there were times she wished infinite amounts of pain on him, but not like that. She didn't then, nor would she ever, understand that man's role in her life. Suddenly, as bad as she felt, she felt even worse that he was obviously still hurting too. Her arms looped around his neck tightly and she hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, and they simply held each other for a long time.
When she finally pulled away, because she had to make sure she was the one to pull away first, she quickly wiped her face. He didn't let her go too far from his arms without looking at her with gentle, probing eyes.
"I do love you, Fi."
A wry smirk crossed her lips and she nodded. If she let those words sink in for too long, she knew she'd just be more of a mess. "Of course you do," she said lightly. "I'm me."
He smirked at that and let her go. "Will you be okay?"
"Me? Fine. I'll be fine." She waved him off and turned away to close her eyes and catch her breath. She needed a minute, just a minute. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Of course."
She nodded and went in there, pushing the door shut behind her and leaning against it for a minute. Then she leaned over the sink and rinsed her face off and toweled it dry. She looked at herself in the mirror for several beats, then headed back towards Michael and the front door.
"I should go."
"Stop by more often," he said. His tone was gentle and she knew he meant it completely. She just nodded, keeping her back to him.
"Like you could get rid of me."
"I wouldn't want to."
She bit her tongue, not wanting to go back in the conversation, and moved to pull the door open. Before she actually could she paused, but she didn't look back at him. "I love you too, Michael."
And with those final words said she continued out the door and didn't look back, but somehow she knew that he had closed the door behind her so that he didn't have to watch her walk away.