A/N: Right. The previous chapter was Fi's point of view, as is this one. I forgot to label it…
"Fi, what happened in the prison?" Michael asked as I pulled on my shoes.
"I was locked up. Fed horrible food." I shrugged.
"And beaten." Michael caught my eye. "You have bruises, Fi."
"They're old." I said tensely. "Can we go and get this stupid meeting of Sam's over with?"
Michael sighed, and then nodded slowly. He slipped his hand into mine and led the way down the metal stairs to the charger. I leaned against the car and watched as he pulled the metal fencing open. When he turned back towards me, I saw the glimmer of concern still in his eyes. Rolling my eyes, I pushed off the side of the car and opened the door. If he found out what really had happened while I was in the prison, he would want to do something to the guards that had been the worst. All I wanted was to forget what had happened.
He took my hand once he got into the car and squeezed my fingers before pulling out onto the street. We both kept silent on the drive to Elsa's spa, with Michael taking my hand at every single stop light. Each time that he did so, I yanked my hand away even though he always recaptured it. Pulling my hand away was always something that I did before, and I wanted him to stop being such a worry-wart. Worrying was not like him at all.
I made sure that I was up and out of the car by the time Michael had shifted it into park and turned off the engine. Behind me, he sighed audibly, but followed me into the reception hall. Standing just inside the doors, I gazed at the fake bamboo walls and floors, with zebra printed chairs arranged to take up most of the entrance space. A long counter, made also of faux bamboo, cut off one side where a bored receptionist was filing her nails.
Sam stood by the zebra chairs with an older blonde woman, who I assumed to be the ever elusive Elsa. With them sat a pale, scared looking college girl in a wheelchair with a boy who seemed to only be a year or two older than her. Letting out a sigh of my own, I made my way over to the quartet.
"Fi, Michael." Sam greeted us. "Elsa, you remember Michael, right?"
The blonde woman murmured her agreement. When had Michael met her?
"And this must be Fiona." She purred, and offered me her hand.
Reluctantly I took it, flicking a glance over my shoulder to Michael.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Elsa cried, examining my fingers. "Your fingernails are in horrible condition. And they didn't let you get good hair care products where you were did they?" She moved towards one of the doors, towing me with her. "Well, we'll just have to take care of that won't we? I'll get one of the girls to trim off those nasty dead ends and get you a deep conditioning treatment."
She pulled me through one of the doors.
"Excuse me," I started.
Elsa nudged me into a chair. "Sammy and Michael can take care of Mary's needs just fine on their own. I'm sure Sammy will fill you in later."
"Sammy?" I muttered under my breath.
"How long have you known him?" She gushed, motioning another woman over.
"Years." I said carefully.
"Well, I'll just leave you here with Fate." Turning to the woman with fire truck hair she continued. "Take care of her hair and nails, will you Fate?"
Rolling my eyes, I positioned myself on the chair and resolved to ignore the woman.