A/N - Thanks for the patience folks...I'm getting there, I promise. I wanted to make sure I was a few chapters ahead of you guys and that meant a few more hours of research, so forgive the lateness of this update.

I will try to post the next chapter in the next few days. At the moment it is the only thing stopping me from being depressed about Fringe finishing up. I am going to miss my favourite couple. And I hope that they finish it with the respect that it deserves. I have my own theories about how it should end...And I am dying to see if I am right!

So read and review folks! And thanks again

Chapter Ten – The Empty Space Inside The Sun

Michael was sitting in the front yard when they arrived, his legs crossed, and a thick book in front of him. He glanced up then they pulled up the driveway, closing his book, meeting them at the front of the house. When Olivia got out of the tuck, Michael extended his hand to Olivia.

"Hello Agent Dunham."

Olivia offered him a wide smile.

"Hi Michael."

Michael turned to Peter, again offering his hand.

"Mr Bishop."

"Michael."

Peter grinned at Olivia over the seriousness of Michael's greeting. Michael put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet slightly.

"I believe that Aunt Angela was wrong."

"How so?"

"Despite her determination that we were secure, these individuals have proved that this is not the case."

"What did they do?"

Michael indicated to the house.

"Come and see for yourself."

Olivia and Peter glanced at each other before they followed Michael into the house. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. But as they moved deeper, it became more apparent what the intruders did. They had trashed the house, over-turning everything in sight. Angela sat in a far corner, a cigarette dangling in her hand, her face shell-shocked. When she saw them, she smiled sheepishly, raising her hand.

"I quit when my brother died."

Michael frowned deeply.

"It's not healthy."

"I'm upset Michael."

"So am I. But I am not slowly filling my body with toxins."

Michael held out a piece of broken vase to his Aunt.

"Put it out please."

Angela took another deep drag before doing as Michael requested. He put the broken vase back on the floor and in a very childlike action, slid on his Aunt's lap, hugging her hard. They sat for a few moments before Michael slid off her lab, rearranging his suit. Olivia glanced at Peter.

"Michael, can you show me the damage to your room?"

"Of course. Follow me."

Peter offered her a slight nod before she followed Michael out of the room. They went down a hallway, where all the pictures were on the floor or skewed on the walls. Michael led her down yet another hallway before stopping outside a heavy oak door.

"It's rather untidy. I do apologize."

"You didn't make the mess Michael."

"I know but politeness dictates that you are assured that I never intended for you to see my room like this."

"Well, in that case, thank you for the warning."

Michael flashed her a small smile, and for a moment, he was a kid. A normal kid that could climb trees and spend the afternoon on his bike in the sun. And then the smile was gone and his serious demeanour shifted back into place. He sighed slightly before pushing the door open. The first thing that Olivia saw was the broken picture frame, the glass shattered and Michael's parents smiling up through the fragments. Without thinking, she scooped it up, carefully taking out the picture and handing it to Michael.

"Be careful with that. It's hard to replace photos."

He took it from her hand and examined it, his shoulders in a hard line, his mouth twitching. He took a deep breath.

"Thank you Agent Dunham."

"Michael, I would really like it if you called me Olivia."

Michael nodded slightly.

"Very well."

She glanced around the room, again seeing evidence that this was not a normal little boy amongst the mess. Books were stacked in every spare space and in a large bookshelf. Her eyes gazed over the titles, all college level at the very least. And the clothes that been over turned from the drawers and wardrobe were not that of a normal child, filled with suits and ties. Olivia saw the small box that was tucked under a small pile of books, moving deeper into the room to pick it up. Michael was by her side, his voice soft.

"They didn't get those."

"What is in here?"

Michael held out his hands and Olivia lowered the box into them. Michael placed it on the bed and carefully opened the lid. Olivia smiled as she looked inside.

"Comic books?"

Michael smiled slightly.

"My Dad collected these when he was my age. He gave these to me. My Aunt had them valued for insurance. They are worth half of what this estate is. As well as this."

Michael's hand disappeared into his shift, pulling out a chain. They were military dog tags, far to long for him, coming to rest against his stomach.

"He gave this to me too."

Olivia sat on the end of the bed, sighing slightly.

"You miss them, don't you?"

"Very much. My Aunt tries but my parents understood me. It makes me feel very alone now that they are gone."

"You need to remember that you are very lucky."

Michael shifted onto the bed beside her, playing with the dog tags.

"How so?"

"You could have ended up in foster care. At least you have someone to care for you."

"I understand that but if I had the options of giving up everything that I have to get them back, I would."

Olivia placed her arm around his shoulders.

"I know. I lost my mother when I was fourteen. It takes a while for the pain to go away."

"How did you do it?"

Olivia frowned.

"I don't know. It helps to focus on things that you are good at, make sure that they are proud of you I guess. And to make sure that you never forget how short life can be."

"I forget that sometimes."

"How short life can be?"

"Yes. And I must admit Olivia, I am more than a little frightened now. The other children were taken and this proves that they can get to us. What happens if they do? What if they hurt my Aunt? What if they hurt me?"

Olivia almost jumped when Michael started to sob and she moved on instinct, pulling Michael onto her lap and holding him close. Her body started to rock on its own accord, just like it did when Etta needed comfort. Michael clung to her, releasing his fear and pain. He was so busy acting like a grown up that he seemed to have forgotten that hurt that comes with losing someone, in being scared of the world around them. Olivia soothed back Michael's hair, smelling the soap and the sweat that lingered there. In a few minutes, the sobs had stopped but he remained on her lap, his face in her shirt, which was now damp from tears.

"Do you remember when I first met you and you said that you read my file?"

Michael nodded slightly, his voice was muffled against her shirt.

"Yes."

"And you said you could trust me?"

"Yes."

"I will protect you Michael. I won't let anyone get to you."

Michael lifted his head, his face read from crying, the tears still lingering in his eyes.

"How can you promise that?"

"I will protect you."

"How?"

"I will catch the people who are doing this. Do you own any other property?"

"My parents have another house not that far from here."

"Then you and your Aunt need to go there."

"But this is my home."

"I know and you can come back when it is safe. But until then, you need to, for lack of a better term, go into hiding. You need to trust me on this."

Michael studied her for a moment.

"Very well."

They stayed that way for a few more moments before heading back downstairs, Michael's small hand in her own.

Both Peter and Olivia helped Angela and Michael pack what they needed before loading up the truck. They drove in silence, following Michael's instructions. But it didn't take long before Peter nudged her, nodding towards the rear view mirror.

"Grey Sedan, two cars down."

Olivia glanced at the car, watching as it tailed them. As they got to a set of lights, Olivia turned completely in her seat. She couldn't see a license plate or the driver, the windows all heavily tinted.

"We need to shake them."

Peter turned the steering wheel suddenly, taking a sharp left.

"On it."

Olivia pulled out her phone, pressing in Kathleen's number.

"Hello"

"Kathleen, it's Olivia. Where are you?"

"Home. We just got back."

"Is Agent Malcolm still with you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Is everything ok?"

"Yes. The kitchen window is fixed as well. Oh and so is my car."

"Happy to hear it. I'll give you another call soon."

"I'll be waiting. Stay safe."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Olivia ended the call, pressing in another number.

"Agent Malcolm."

"Hey it's Dunham. Everything ok?"

"Yes. All quiet on the Western front."

"Good. Keep me updated."

"Yes Ma'am."

Olivia ended the call and slipped the phone back in her pocket, watching the grey sedan in the rear view mirror. It followed them stubbornly, despite the number of turns that Peter had made. It wasn't hiding now and Olivia could see that there was no license plate, nothing to identify the vehicle at all.

"Stop the truck."

Peter frowned at her, taking another sharp turn.

"Liv, that's not-"

"Stop the truck Peter."

It took Peter a second to obey her instructions and did so with reluctance. As soon as the truck stilled, Olivia took out her gun, flipped off the safety and stepped out. She pointed her gun at the sedan as it came down the road and waited. It paused for a moment before it drove past, increasing speed until it was completely out of sight. She flicked the safety back on, leaning against the truck, relief and adrenaline making her head spin.