FINALLY

"Who knows? Perhaps your love will make me forget all that I do not wish to remember." – Alexandre Dumas

"The universe owes us." Mike repeats Ryan's earlier statement when Max opens her door to him later that night. And just as she parts her lips to speak, he steps over the threshold and silences her with his mouth; kissing her words away.

Max stumbles backwards with the sudden force of Mike's body against her own. Before her brain is able to engage itself in the situation, her lips begin to return the kiss – tentatively at first, building gradually to rival the passion in which his mouth plundered her own.

"Mike…" she manages just as his lips move to her neck. "Are you drunk?" she asks, already quite breathless. He pulls away as to let her see him; his hands firm against the wall at her back. When Max finds his face, the clarity in his eyes and the strength of his gaze tells her that no, he hadn't at all indulged in alcohol; only that he certainly desired a rather different indulgence.

"Are you okay?" inquires Max, and Mike nods once in reply. The way he looks at her next forces her knees to weaken and her head to spin with a number of different emotions only to be conveyed within his words to follow. "I missed you." He breathes cravingly against her skin.

His head drops to her neck once more, his mouth ghosting over the pulse-point at the base of her throat. "We've only been apart a half hour." Max's body writhes motionlessly in anticipation for his lips to form into a subtle kiss; or perhaps his tongue to dart out in pursuit of a single taste – she wasn't at all fussed which one. And when he finally relents and expertly grants her both, she realises just how excruciatingly long those thirty minutes had been.

And so Max yields to him – letting him have his pleasures; making them her own. After all, she found she had a strangely perceptive sense of empathy when it came to Mike and understanding his emotions. He was aware of this, of course and it made being with her all that much easier. However, he mused regretfully, If only she knew the capacity in which he truly felt for her.

…

Ryan had driven himself, Max and Mike back to the city following Joe's incarceration at Jupiter Place. They were all in desperate need of a lengthy and deep session of slumber and thusly, wasted no more time bereft of it.

Max was dropped off at her apartment first, telling them she'd call them both later at a decent hour before stepping out of the car. Her furtive glance back at Mike and the way his gaze lingered on her as they drove away did not go unnoticed by Ryan. He did not however, think much of it until Mike suddenly asked him to let him out at the convenience store a couple streets from where Max lived - claiming he wouldn't mind the walk from there to his hotel.

Making no effort to object, Ryan complies and bids his friend a good night.

He was about to turn the corner towards his own apartment when he clocked the back of Mike's head in his rear view mirror. It appeared the young agent had made a U-turn and decided that his hotel room wouldn't be his first port of call this night.

Slightly intrigued and just a bit suspicious, Ryan followed.

…

It wasn't that he had intended to find out this way – he hadn't wanted to find out at all, but when he walks in on Mike groping his niece by the kitchen counter, there was no doubt in his mind that they were together; and given their prompt effort to pull away from each other, there was apparently no denying it either. Apparently.

That didn't stop Max from trying however. "We're just friends," she managed, failing in her attempt at eliminating any assumptions her Uncle might have. Perhaps if Max herself sounded more convincing he might've believed her, had it not been for Mike's hands fondling their way beneath her shirt moments prior, and the sudden confusion in the younger man's eyes once her claim registered in his mind.

With an inclined eyebrow and a condescending tone lacing his voice, Ryan replied. "So, kids fondle their way through friendship nowadays?" Had it been anyone else, Ryan would've laughed. Unfortunately, this was Weston and the significance of their circumstances didn't leave much room for amusement.

"We're not kids, Ryan." Mike objected. Unlike Max, he had made no effort to deny anything. In point of fact, if her Uncle wasn't currently demanding their utmost attention and their impending conversation regarding exactly what they were to one another, he'd have been angry with her for wanting to feign the terms of their relationship.

"No, you're not." The older man agreed, "You should know better." His eyes dart between both of them, "Do you have some sort of death wish?"

Max's sigh was accompanied with a roll of her eyes. She and her uncle had already discussed this situation should it ever transpire. Albeit, briefly but even so, she considered the matter closed. Apparently, Ryan felt otherwise now that the possibility had become a reality.

"You're the one who told me that after all this is over, we get to live our lives." Mike argued, approaching Ryan, "Lily is dead; Joe's in prison – it's over, Ryan." He explains further, deliberately avoiding the fact that one of Lily's murderous sons was still out there and mostly likely hell-bent on targeting himself and Max for his family's deaths.

Mike stands before Ryan now with a glint of sorrow in the blue of his eyes – sorrow born of regret for his friend, "I'm sorry Claire did this to you – but I don't intend on doing the same to Max." and with this vow and the sincerity of the man who gave voice to it, Ryan discovers the force behind their adamance. And just who was he to come between such a thing called love?

A sigh escapes Ryan's throat, knowing there's quite simply nothing left to do but leave them be.

"Fine," is the only word Max hears pass between them before Ryan flashes her a look over Mike's shoulder which suggests "I'm not letting this go" or "Think about what you're doing." And he leaves, feeling powerless and somewhat dismissed.

Max had opened her mouth to speak to Ryan but as soon as the deadbolt sounded on the door, Mike turned to her, "Finally." He exhales, pulling her toward him in a swift tactical gambit.

The concern she felt for her uncle was obvious on her features. "He'll be fine." Mike reassures her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We all will," he concludes before continuing what Ryan had interrupted and proving to her just how fine they'd be.

It appeared that, within the last few hours, Max's optimism had rubbed off on Mike and now he was ready to repay the kindness and support she had shown him over the past few weeks.

And it begun by falling into bed together - indulging in the relief of having each other beneath the grand scheme of all things.

Mike may have believed Max was oblivious to the depth of his feelings, but it was in fact he who was ignorant to Max's ability to feel and register the same in another.

She felt it – whatever it was. She has felt it before – in the car pursuing Joe; in the helicopter chasing Lily; on the phone; in exchanges and silences – pleasant, pulsating silences, wherein they listen to naught but the sound of each another's breathing. She felt it when he kissed her at the side of the Twins' mansion and after the shared smile, when he kissed her once more – deeper and sentimental. And she feels it again when they are on the rugged, edges of passion, careening toward something; propelling every which way, threatening to topple over at any given moment. And when his hands are lost in her hair and hers are at his back, and he is inside of her and his skin turns red beneath her teeth: and they are all teeth, and claws and wings – she feels it.

A single whisper is felt on their sweat-smeared skin before they fall prey to sleep, "Finally."

"Until we have seen someone's darkness, we don't really know who that person is. Until we have forgiven someone's darkness, we don't really know what love is." – Marianne Williamson