Author's note: Hey guys! So I came after a hiatus of forever huh? I'm sorry if BN fanfiction has evolved and I haven't :P I'm going to be writing more regularly now so I'm hoping that in time I do a lot better.

Also, This story contains no spoilers. Although it is continuing right after 6.06 Shock Wave I haven't watched the sneak peeks yet so I wouldn't know what really happens. This is just my take on what could have happened :)

Michael was sitting in the charger. His entire attention was on his phone which kept showed his contacts. Scrolling down till he reached 'N', he saw Nate's name appear on the screen. Selecting it opened two options to him; to call Nate's home or cell phone. Michael let his head fall back against the headrest as he squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt from everything pounding in it. He was so full of pain... tears would have helped so he tried crying but try as he might after a couple of tears his exhausted body just refused to yield to his frenzied half-begging demands. Unshed tears burned his psyche and emotions tore at the walls of his mind.

Slowly opening his eyes he backed out of the contacts screen and kept the phone on the dashboard and welcomed the dark again.

Fi, Sam and Jesse were outside, next to the boot of the Charger. Jesse was narrating the entire story to Fi who knew nothing, and Sam who knew too little for it to make any sense in his head. Fi was sitting on the boot, her shoulders slumped as tears of pain streamed freely down her face. Sam, who was leaning against the boot next to her, mumbled something insensibly until they didn't even sound like real words, just sounds.

Almost appropriately none of them could even look at one another in the eye much less face Michael, who just sat in the Charger in complete isolation.

"Why?!" Fi spat out fiercely a long time after Jesse had finished relaying the incident. "Why Nate?!"

Jesse looked into the distance with grief stricken eyes as Sam unsteadily said, "Whoever wanted to kill Anson must have just thought Nate was collateral damage..." his voice cracked badly at the last two words.

"What do we even say to Mike?" Jesse asked vehemently. "One moment he's standing there staring at us proudly for having captured Anson single-handedly and then the next..." He looked away but not before Sam and Fi spotted the look of defeat and pain contorts his face.

Fi was sitting quietly on the boot all along. Not having found too much to contribute, she shut up. Except now she knew...

"We tell him the truth. We tell him what we feel; we tell him what he needs to hear." She got off the boot and walked up to the driver's seat and sat in, her back ramrod straight.

"Michael..." Fi said struggling to take a breath in.

Michael wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at anything. A look of blank vacancy filled his face and drained her heart.

"I feel nothing Fiona...It scares me. No pain...nothing." The voice was so detached from Michael that it could be coming from Rome and she wouldn't know better.

"I understand Michael..." Something old and familiar within her wanted to hold him against her but she knew he needed the space to grieve.

For a long time there stretched only silence. A resigned, tired, exhausted and hopeless silence until the chaos of nothing threatened to drown her.

"I know what you feel exactly, Michael." Fi finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but strong.

"When I lost Claire to a shooting, probably much like this, I fell into this abyss of despair and desolation. I lost my baby sister, she died bleeding and slowly suffocating to death with her blood pooling in her lungs. She died on the pavement all alone with no one to hold her hand or look at her and tell her that all was going to be okay and she was loved and needed." Fi let it out in one shot. She had never told this to anyone and the sensation of letting it all out was heady and still a little scary to her.

Michael looked at her. He'd known Fi for years... 9 to be precise and he knew a jack squat about the death of Fi's sister. Yet that was only half the reason he was listening to her... The other half just wanted to listen to her pain so he couldn't feel his.

"Claire was the baby of my family. Youngest amongst all of us meant that she took us for a jolly ride but none of us minded. My brothers always treated her differently, with me they'd behave as if I was their brother...not with her though." Fi was fidgeting majorly now.

Michael looked at her; she was playing with the ends of her dress. When she got in she was more or less business-like, now she was like a woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

"You know Michael...I need some air...can we just...I don't know...walk?" she said faltering tremendously.

She didn't wait for his answer either. She just got out and walked to the railing that overlooked the sea. He needed to hear this, and she needed to get it out. He stood next to her, patiently waiting.

"I still see it clearly...how can I not?" She let out a mirthless cough, "It's burnt like an iron on the back of my mind. We were all at home...It was Sunday. Mama picked up the phone and then all she said was... "We're coming." and she dropped the phone, and we ran."

She wasn't crying but Michael saw the blue ocean reflect of her green eyes and they glistened...

"There was a huge crowd there...hundreds of people all trying to see what the commotion was all about. My sister had been reduced to a commotion. We cleared through the people and there she was...the people had gathered around but no one helped as my sister lay there clawing the dust. My mother- Oh, that scream-

Fiona shuddered as the sight of her mother came back to her.

"...That scream she gave out was guttural ... it didn't sound like something a human could emit."

Michael was so sure she would start crying he almost went to comfort her but she showed no sign of breaking down. No, she wasn't happy but she was strong and Michael realised that this is how she wanted the outcome of Nate's brutal death to be on him. Michael wanted it to make him more driven person, not one crumbling like a pack of cards at the very name of Nate. He needed to be like Fi.

"She ran...my Ma is more frail than me and Claire but she picked Claire off the ground and onto her lap and buried her head in Claire's hair and cried. Not tears, just shunts and noises and sounds that came from inside. Dad just held on to the both of them and cried. Actually cried...I had never seen him cry before and never saw after either, but just that one time was enough...same with my brother.

I just sunk...I was standing there...couple of meters away f-from her and I-I couldn't walk...or stand so I sank. Sean sat on the pavement with me on his lap as I cried into his shoulder. I never stopped...the whole place just stunk...of blood...Claire's blood, and people who were standing around were crying too...because of sympathy and pity...both of which I hate."

She looked at him, her mouth set firmly so that she wouldn't break down. Reliving this bit of her past was always painful, but having describing it to someone was exponentially horrible.

He held out his hand to her. She looked at it a long time before she put her own in it. He wrapped his fingers tight with hers and then held onto that with his other hand as well. Squeezing it gently, he tried to provide as much support as he could in that simple touch.

"I don't know when I stopped crying and fell asleep. All I knew was when I woke up I was in my room...The room I shared with Claire. I took one look at her bed and it all just came back and just so much anger...the images...the pavement that was stained red...the look on my parents' face...my brothers' agony...her glassy eyes just staring at us with no recognition at all...and I just...I started pounding my mattress and screaming. I was yelling at everything and everyone. My parents, my brothers myself, God-just every possible damn thing."

She laughed. A laugh full of pity at herself which was harsh and discordant.

"Finally after some time, my brother Daniel came in...and he closed the door behind him. I stopped shrieking for a minute and he climbed into the bed next to me, sat against the headrest and opened up his arms. I just hugged him round the middle like a child and lay there listening to his heart beat. I was probably really relaxed by then because it took me time to realise that Danny was crying. I looked up and saw my strong, self-reliant, happy-go-lucky brother break down. He kept saying, "I want her back Fi. Please get her back for me." And I could do nothing...He was the closest to me and Claire both by far. I was so lost in my own sorrows I forgot about the others. So I just held him and said "Let it out Danny...Just let it out." And he did."

Fi wiped away tears from her eyes and looked at Michael, smiling faintly. He looked at her and she saw no pity or sympathy...just reassurance.

"Well, Danny's a gun runner now...one of the best I know and well I am what I am. What I'm trying to say is, Michael, things like this change us, forever, irreplaceably. Point is to ensure that it changes you right. It's because of Claire that I even met you in the first place. I would have never been a gun runner and black marketer had it not been for her. I won't tell you it stops hurting...it never does. Or that your conscience gets lighter...no matter how many people you save, you still feel guilty. I'm saying that revenge is a dish best served cold... I've spent two decades finding Claire's murderer...that's a healthy chunk off my life and still...till today...nothing. Every day, I get up no matter where I am, first thing I think of is Claire. If I have a way about it, you won't go through the agony-

She choked on the last word and Michael could feel the raw anger pulsing in her every sinew right that instant.

"Fiona you didn't have to tell me this."

"No, Michael, I did. Everybody...Sam, Jesse, Me – We've all lost someone we care about deeply but it's made us who we are and it still does. I like who we are. We're family Michael. Families share...pain, joy, experience, revenge...all of it. You deserved to know. Tomorrow is not going to be easy...neither is any other day...and if you're like me, the only incentive to get you out of bed on some days would be to make sure some scumbag doesn't kill somebody else's sister or brother. That is all the motivation you need."

He looked right into her eyes, they looked ablaze with emotion. He swallowed before he spoke, "You don't paint a pretty picture."

"No point. You're bound to find the truth sooner than later." She said shrugging sadly.

"I miss him." He said simply, his voice cracking.

She smiled sadly and said, "I do too Michael."

He just let out a shaky breath not trusting himself to speak anymore.

"I know something that helps, like nothing else does Michael." She said finally.

He looked at her in a defeated way. All she wanted to do was wash his pain away.

"Revenge, Michael. Justice. I've lived twenty years knowing my sister's killer is somewhere out there enjoying his life. I'm damned if that happens to you."

He look of determination said it all to him. She was with him, in this...for better or worse.

"Let's go find the bastard who killed your brother."

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