A/N: This starts immediately after the end of 3x12. I'm pretty sure I started writing it before the finale started and I'm just now getting around to finishing it.

Mike angrily stormed out of Briggs' room and Paige peered out of the doorway of her room, setting down the candle she just lit on her desk. Johnny shook his head in disgust as he walked out of Briggs' room, before slamming the door to his own room.

Mike was furious.

His jaw was clenched and he was flexing his hand. For a moment she thought Mike was doing phantom hand exercises, but something was off. He was flexing his hand as if he punched someone. She placed her hand out to stop him as he walked by her and couldn't help but notice how tense he felt. "You punched him?"

"At least I didn't shoot him in his other leg," Mike quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Mike beyond frustrated and he had every right to be. Briggs had been playing mind games with all of them, but most of all with Mike. Mike glanced down at her hand and she dropped it mumbling an apology, but he shrugged indicating it was fine.

Paige looked behind him and couldn't tell if Briggs' door was still open, but as much as she wanted to believe that Briggs had been right about this, she was finding it hard to trust him about anything. She thought Mike had been crazy when he shared his latest theory about Briggs and the Sarin gas, only it turned out he was right. Technically, there hadn't been any Sarin gas but that was just one more detail of Briggs' elaborate plan that none of them were privy to.

Paige cocked her head towards her room, indicating for Mike to follow her.

Mike followed her without question, closing the door behind him. "He played all of us! Everything that happened was because of Briggs! Colby and Toros. Jesus Christ, he slept with Javi's girlfriend to start a gang war in order to get Martun Sarkissian to call Gusti for the Sarin. Ari sent Javi's mother his head in a box! He almost got Johnny killed! I haven't even gotten the final headcount for how many people died today."

"You were right." She noticed Mike left out how Briggs helped him detox, but considering that Briggs used his journals as the backbone of his plan, she would let it slide. Deep down Paige believed that Briggs cared about Mike, about all of them, but the days where she blindly trusted him had come to an end. Just because Briggs' plan was for the greater good, it didn't mean his intentions weren't selfish. She sat down on the edge of her bed and Mike sat down next to her with an exasperated sigh. "I - he - Briggs, he got in my head about Colby. When I went to Ali Babba's, I saw the straight razor that I - I killed Toros with." She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice even. She didn't want to get upset about what she did. She did what she had to do. Toros would've killed her if she hadn't stopped him. Toros went through a lot of crap as a kid, but that didn't absolve him from his sins. He didn't deserve her compassion, but she still couldn't help but feel responsible for his fate.

Paige gave Mike a grateful smile when he squeezed her knee, drawing strength from his simple gesture. "I got lost in my head for a minute and everything that happened that night replayed in my mind. Then I heard voices. I hid in the bathroom and Martun almost came in. I thought I was going to have to shoot my way out of there."

Mike started to jump up, no doubt ready to punch Briggs again or maybe shoot his other leg, but she placed her hand over his and he remained seated next to her.

Mike took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Paige, you shouldn't have been in that situation. How many times is he going to risk your life to do his dirty work?"

"I'm here, okay? I made a choice to help him and I have to deal with the fallout." It would be easy to blame this all on Briggs. Colby. Toros. What almost happened today. But she let him manipulate her. She blindly trusted him when she shouldn't have. "Let me see your hand."

"It's fine," Mike said, brushing off her concern. "You're - "

"Just let me see it," Paige demanded, her voice leaving no room for discussion. She needed something else to focus on other than Briggs manipulating them and at least this gave them a distraction. Paige held her hand out, palm facing upwards and ignored the shock of electricity that pulsed through her when he placed his hand over his. She delicately traced her fingers over his knuckles, looking for signs of bruising.

"See, I'm fine," Mike breathed out slowly.

It was funny really.

Last summer, they were constantly touching. Friendly touches. Flirtatious ones. One perfectly sweet kiss in the midst of chaos. In the midst of investigating Briggs.

This past summer, it was a struggle not to touch him when the others were watching. But then they fell apart and the last thing she wanted was him touching her even though she craved his touch more than she was willing to admit.

She wanted to feel alive. Wanted to hear the false promises that everything would be okay when they both knew it wouldn't be. Wanted his arms around her to make her feel safe and chase away horrors that haunted her dreams.

But she was stubborn.

Unwilling to forgive.

As much as she wanted to forgive Mike about Lina, deep in her gut she knew he lied. She was genuinely shocked to learn that Lina's fingerprint was on the letter sent to her family from Scottsdale. When she went to the warehouse to bring Mike his ID so he could check into the hospital, she apologized for not believing him. Mike was delirious from the pain and blood loss, and unable to keep his lies straight when he confirmed what she suspected all along - Lina was dead. Devastated by his lies, she gave him up to Sid.

She had no excuse for her actions.

She was hurt. Betrayed.

But nothing excused what she did. She barely understood it. Didn't understand why she felt Mike needed to die in order to balance out what he did with Lina.

But he survived.

By some miracle he survived. With the exception of those six minutes which could have easily been permanent.

Paige swore her heart stopped again when she heard Mike was alive. Guilt kept her away from him when he was in the hospital. Shame made her keep her distance when came home from the hospital.

Only Mike hadn't been willing to give up on her as easily as she had given up on him.

She had touched him exactly three times after she sent him to sleep with Jessica. Once, when he had been shot and was in the warehouse. Twice, after he left the hospital to save her from her suicide mission with Sid. And the third time was when she broke down in his arms after her award ceremony. After weeks of lying, he finally came clean with her about happened in Sylmar.

Despite that hug being the first step of many in the long path to them healing, they continued to keep their distance from each other. Both of them too cautious to upset the delicate balance of their truce. She lost count of the number of times she had to struggle not to touch him. But even if they kept their hands to themselves, there was a thousand glances she couldn't ignore.

The way he watched her when she was in that red dress. Then the white one.

She wanted to believe Mike detoxing was the only reason he told her not to touch him. But she needed to touch him then. Just to reassure him that she was there and to reassure herself that he was still breathing.

Then they went back to keeping their distance, trying to figure out a way to coexist in this house.

But today, something changed. He touched her back when he didn't have to. Not that it was a big deal. But he hadn't bumped into her at the funeral home. He was walking behind her and casually touched the small of her back, reminding her that he was right there. That he had her back. Literally and figuratively.

Then it was her turn to support him. After Johnny bit his head off about the Sarin not being at the funeral home, she took a chance and ran her knuckle along Mike's arm. Just to let him know she was on his side. To test the waters a little to see how he reacted.

Which led to a little more awkward flirting. Mike casually mentioned his hand exercises to remind her of all the ways he used to touch her. But now, here she was, touching him.

He hadn't pushed her away. The world hadn't exploded. They were just sitting in her bedroom like two normal people when they had more baggage than she knew what to do with.

"Does it hurt?" Paige asked, continuing to run her fingers along the back of his hand. "I can go get you some ice. If you put it on now, it'll decrease the swelling." She was rambling. Mike's knuckle was barely discolored, it probably didn't hurt and of course he knew the benefits of ice on bruises, but she couldn't stop herself from spouting off useless information. "I can get you some ibuprofen too."

She started to get up, but before she realized what was happening, his mouth was on hers.