Michael stumbled back up to the beach with Fiona in his arms. He set her down as lightly as he could but she was moaning in pain. There was blood trailing lines like icicles down her upper arm, but upon examination it just looked as if the bullet had only grazed her. Cradling her head so she could see him, he swallowed hard. Here was the woman he'd just killed a man for. This woman, he now realized, was a part of his future. How that future was going to look, he wasn't quite sure, but here she was…safe and in his arms.
Her next moan turned into a cough and then turned into clearing water out of her lungs. Michael rolled her to the side while her body heaved violently. His fingers ran through the wet hair at the nape of her neck, searching for the lone hairpin he knew she would have tucked away there. With the pin in hand, Michael made short work of the lock on the handcuffs and tossed them out into the water. Once free, Fiona struggled to use her uninjured arm to sit up in the sand. Michael supported her with one arm and rubbed her back with the other to encourage the water to come out.
As her breathing finally returned to normal, Fiona grabbed hold of Michael's wrist and looked at him gravely. "I thought you were dead," came her thin, crackling voice.
Michael stared at her, realizing for the first time what the day's events must have seemed like from her perspective. His entire expression softened, "Hey, no, see? I'm fine," he said quietly, pulling her into an embrace.
The pain as her arm was pressed against his chest stole her breath. She pushed away quickly. "Sean?" she managed to ask.
"He's gonna be okay," Michael assured her, as Sam came jogging down the embankment towards them.
"Mikey, we've gotta get out of here. The Coast Guard will be here any minute…probably the cops too. Hi Fi," he added with a little smile in her direction.
The corners of her lips flinched upwards at him.
"Sam, give me your shirt," Michael demanded.
Sam decided to refrain from mentioning what had happened to the last possession he'd given to Michael. Sure enough, as soon as he'd handed the shirt to his friend, Michael ripped it in half.
"I have to put pressure on this wound so that it stops bleeding, Fi," Michael told her. The nod of her head was barely noticeable, but the short scream as Michael pulled the fabric tight around her arm was impossible to ignore. Sam found himself involuntarily reaching out to stroke her hair while Michael adjusted things. Never in a million years would he have ever imagined himself trying to comfort Fiona Glenanne, but here he was.
"Go," Michael looked up at Sam. "Get the car." Sam ran back up to the car, collecting the rifle Michael had dropped earlier. Michael followed with Fiona more securely in his arms this time. He helped her into the back of the Charger and slid in beside her. Sam dumped the guns in the trunk, slammed the passenger-side door, and hopped in the driver's seat. Fi was already settled in with her head on Michael's lap and her arm tucked securely against her body.
"Do we need to go to Fiona's place?" Sam asked as he threw the Charger into reverse and spun it around.
"No, let's go straight to my mom's. We'll sort things out from there."
"You got it, brother," Sam stepped on the gas and they flew down the road.
