This chapter contains an OC from a previous chapter, Katherine. It exists in a universe that exists only in the creative part of my mind and I have no idea if I will ever write it or post it, but she moved to Miami to get away from her family for a little while. Michael is using that as an advantage and she is living in Madeline's guest room. This is in Katherine's POV. And I decided to throw in Detective Paxson just cuz, but I'm not sure I will ever really write her character. We'll see, because I don't really like her and I'm glad Michael finally beat her.

I believe…that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I'm not exactly sure how or why we ended up here. Madeline and I had come over for an impromptu meeting of some kind for Uncle Mike, but he was never specific with the reason. When we pulled up and Aunt Fi's car was there, I was far from shocked, though it did surprise me a little when I noticed that Sam's car wasn't there and a Miami PD issue detective's car was pulling in behind us. I made no mention of my observations to Madeline as we headed up the stairs into the loft. A woman whose age I could not guess with certainty, but probably somewhere in her early thirties, followed us to the door.

I turned to her, fully intent on making my point, loudly and forcefully. "Can I help you?" I asked with just a touch of attitude and my Irish brogue slipping through. I had to get a better hold on myself. The woman was silent as she slipped her badge to a more prominent position on her belt.

"I heard there was to be a meeting here," she replied plainly. So this must be the Detective Paxson I had yet to meet. I just smirked in response and opened the door. The three of us stepped in and stopped, just barely inside. I was the farthest in, Madeline in the middle, and the detective closest to the door as if she was about to split, but it seemed that we were all far too interested in the scene before us.

Uncle Mike and Aunt Fi were arguing, with increasing volume and violence. I knew that we shouldn't stay in the room much longer but it was so hard to pull away from their dynamic considering how enrapturing it tended to be, even to onlookers.

"We should pull them apart. They're going to kill each other," Paxson hissed to Madeline and me out of the corner of her mouth. This wasn't going to end well.

"No, no," Madeline replied, surprisingly soft and calm. "They argue all the time. It's just them. They'll be fine."

To be honest, both of them had a point. It could go either way, but I had a sinking feeling that in this case, they were both wrong. I wouldn't clear my throat, for fear of the embarrassment of making our presence known, but I knew I needed to get the three of us out of the loft and to a more neutral meeting place. I would just leave an annoyed text message on Uncle Mike and Aunt Fi's phones later.

"Um, let's leave them to their argument and go have a drink with Sam," I suggested, an almost sickly sweet smile on my face. I hoped it would convey my veiled displeasure about staying any longer. Madeline didn't seem to get it, and neither did the detective. Just my luck. I sighed silently and made a motion to the door. "We'll meet them at Carlito's so they can work out their…differences."

It wasn't completely truthful but at least it got them out of the loft. So I led Detective Paxson to the Café Carlito and sat down at Sam's table. He was already there, drinking a beer. "You walk in on them, too?" he asked. I knew instantly what he was talking about. I nodded in annoyance as I pulled out my cell and watched Madeline and Paxson seat themselves at the table, and leave two seats next to each other for Aunt Fi and Uncle Mike. Sam and I refrained from chuckling.

"It's rude to invite people over and be preoccupied when they get there," I typed into my phone. Looking up at Madeline and Paxson, deep in conversation, and then to the clouds in the blue Miami sky, I slowly erased the text. I remembered a conversation my boyfriend and father had once had over my head while I was staring at the clouds and realized that however it happened, being annoyed wouldn't help. Besides, it was more amusing than anything else. "Hope u 2 have a nice day. We'll meet at Carlitos l8r," I typed in and sent. I was so going to get smacked for it later, but that was ok.

So, as we waited in the uncomfortable knowledge of what was likely happening at our previous meeting place, Sam and I shared in the hilarity of Paxson and Madeline's discussion of Uncle Mike and Aunt Fi. Paxson was sure they were at each other's throats by now. Madeline was sure they were making up. It was interesting watching two women discuss how they could look at the same thing and see two completely different scenes. Sam and I, we were trying not to laugh because we knew how right and wrong they both were, because we knew the truth.

(A/N: This is one of those things that should probably be ended here, but the rest just sort of wrote itself, so I included it and you can read it or not. Whichever you choose.)

About two and a half hours later, probably after my text was discovered, Uncle Mike's Charger pulled up and parked on the street outside the café and he and Aunt Fi climbed out and made their way to our table. My aunt cuffed me on the ear as she moved to her seat, making me jump at the unexpected jolt of pain.

"Ow, what was that for?" I whined, rubbing my now red ear.

"You know what it was for," she replied, trying so hard to be irritated, but far too amused to do it convincingly. Uncle Mike was, obviously, in the same boat.

I put my best cheeky smile on and replied, "What can I say? I'm a teenager and I did go to high school for a while. I'm not ignorant to the way life works." Aunt Fi glared at me and I smiled back.

"Do they…" Uncle Mike began, gesturing to Paxson and Madeline, who were still talking to each other.

I laughed as I shook my head fervently. "How awkward would that be? Trying to explain that to your mother," I answered, eliciting a relieved chuckled from him. "They saw two different things in that room, and neither of them were what Sam and I saw." The ex-SEAL looked at me with a cheesy grin around his beer bottle as I looked at him with a knowing smile. Neither of us wanted to be in the middle of that, but we both knew that it could never be stopped or contained. It would be like asking water to stop being wet.

Ok, now I'm finished.