Hannah woke up first and left Mike in bed, sleeping longer. He rarely ever slept… and this had drained him. She decided it was best to let him rest a little longer and put off his grief for just a few more moments.

Standing in her kitchen in leggings and an old sweatshirt that showed her scar, she braided her hair and decided to call her dad. He would know what to do. He would know what to say.

"Hey, kiddo!" he answered cheerfully on the first ring, "Have a good birthday?"

She sighed sadly. "Yeah, it was good…"

Dave sighed. "What's wrong, kid?"

Hannah scrunched her face. Her dad always knew when something was wrong and it annoyed her sometimes.

"Was I upset when mom died?" she asked awkwardly. She knew it didn't bother him to talk about her mom but she rarely ever brought it up.

She could see him shrugging. "You dealt with grief in your own way… You were upset, but you didn't show it. You and Adam were like rocks. Guess it's just your old man who's a bowl full of jelly, huh?"

Hannah smirked. "I guess so…"

Dave swallowed. "Why are you asking?"

She took a deep breath. "A good friend just lost his dad… and I don't really know what to say…"

Dave sighed. "Oh honey… there's never anything good to say… All people think to say is 'sorry for your loss' or 'it'll get better' or 'I bet you miss them'… honest to God, it hurts to hear those kinds of things… There's really nothing perfect to say to help someone through grief like that…"

She scrunched her nose. She would've preferred an easy "Here, say this" kind of thing.

"How'd it happen?" Dave asked, curious and wondering if perhaps that would make it easier to give some advice.

Hannah stiffened. How much should she say?

"Um… he's in the FBI and one of the people he's after got to his dad and killed him… slit his throat… on tape… and he saw it all," she said, grimacing.

Dave sighed, the thought weighing on his heart. "Damn… baby girl that's a lot different than what happened to your mom… we knew she was going… we had time to prepare for it… this… aw shit… hell… how's he holding up?"

Hannah glanced back at her still closed bedroom door. "Not well… he's still sleeping…"

"At your place?" Dave asked.

"Uh…" Hannah worried for a second. She didn't want a lecture. She was a grown woman with a career and her own life… but she still desperately wanted to make her father happy- to make him still think she was an innocent kid.

"Good, I'm glad he's there," he said instead, "He needs someone during this. Grief… it'll knock you sideways… it'll tear you up one side and down the other…"

Hannah sighed. "I don't know what to say to help him…"

She could hear him smile. "Baby, sometimes you don't need to say anything at all…"

She took in a deep breath. She wished she could do more.

"You know," he said, thinking, "When he wakes up, have him give me a call…"

Hannah shook her head. "No… I don't think he's up for talking to anyone…"

"I'll talk to him," Mike said from behind her.

She hadn't heard the door open and certainly didn't hear him come to stand behind her. His eyes were still swollen from too much crying, weak and out of tears.

He looked numb.

"No, it's okay," she said, wanting to shield him from anything further.

Mike reached out and took the phone from her anyways, taking in a deep breath.

"Hello?" he said, not realizing how rough his voice sounded.

"Hey there, son," Dave said calmly, "Hannah told me and uh… well… I'm sure you know about Deanna… and… I know it's not the same thing but… buddy, you're gonna live… I know it doesn't feel that way. Lord, I know how it feels… but you gotta keep on keeping on, ya know?"

Mike swallowed. Dave sounded so calm, so sure… so fatherly.

"Losing Deanna was one of the hardest things that's ever happened to me… and Lord have mercy on me, but I wanted to end it all and go with her… and if it weren't for Adam and Hannah, I would've… I just didn't know how to live without Deanna… if you lose someone, you gotta see who you still have… I lost her, but thank God I still had Adam and Hannah… I still had something…

"I know it's hard to try and look past all the pain and hurt… but there is good still in your life… and there are good people… When you fall down, they help you back up… it's hard to get back up from something like this… but you will," Dave said, strength in his voice.

Mike licked his lips, mouth dry, breath shaky.

"You still there, son?" Dave asked, concerned.

"Yeah…" Mike said quietly, "I'm still here…"

"Alright then," Dave said, "You got this, son… you can handle so much more than you think."

Mike smirked. "Yes, sir."

"Chin up, son," he said, urging him on, "And listen here, you tell that daughter of mine to lighten up. Hannah's a rock. That girl can withstand an atomic bomb… But don't let her tell you that she's bulletproof… she's still scared of the boogeyman in our cellar."

Hannah scoffed, hearing Dave from where she was standing.

Mike smiled. "Yes, sir."

"Good man," Dave beamed, "Alright son, well, take care, alright? I'll talk to you soon."

"Thanks," Mike said, meaning it, "You take care, too."

He hung up and handed the phone to Hannah, his eyes brighter and breath lighter than they had been.

"I am not scared of the boogeyman," she addressed, face serious.

Mike smiled painfully. "Your dad's a nice guy."

His smile faded a bit, realizing that people used to say that about his dad… his dad had been a nice guy….

Hannah saw the change and stepped closer to him. "Breakfast?"

Mike shook his head. "I'm not hungry…"

She bit her lip. Usually she'd just fix him something and put it in front of him, demanding that he eat.

Today she wouldn't push him.

She didn't know what to say… she hadn't had to deal with something like this before.

Mike crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm so fucking angry…"

Hannah started to say "I know" but didn't. She didn't know.

He scoffed, sitting down on her couch, elbows on his knees. "Any other day, I'd be either going in to work or enjoying my day with you… and I can't…"

He rubbed his eyes, breath heavy. "This is so fucked up…"

She stood listening, still unsure of what to say.

Mike shook his head. "The most fucked up part is that I won't walk away after this… I should've walked away sooner and I was going to… and I can't now… I won't."

He looked up at her, determination in his eyes.

He laughed but it wasn't because anything was funny. "Fuck… I really am Ryan, now."

Hannah stiffened. She felt uncomfortable… but she probably would've been acting the same way if she lost someone.

Mike stood up suddenly. "I'm going to Virginia… I need to be there… go pack your bag."

She frowned, confused. "Why?"

"I'm calling Mendez and ordering protective custody for you," he said, already starting for her bedroom.

"Mike, no," she said, but he wasn't in any mood to compromise with her, "I'm not going into protective custody!"

She followed him to her bedroom.

"Yes, you are," he said decidedly, getting his phone out from where he always left it, "I'll have her order it and I won't know where you are… that way if Lily Gray gets to me, she won't know where you are."

"Mike, stop," she said, trying to grab his phone.

"No," he growled, "This is being done."

She knocked his phone from his hands and he turned to her, furious, eyes enraged.

"You don't fucking get it, Hannah. They killed him. They got him and they slit his throat… what don't you get about that? They took Max!" he said, angrily, "It's not safe for you here. I lost my dad because I didn't think ahead. I'm not going to let that happen with you."

He reached for his phone and she stepped in front of him. His rage was the worst she'd seen, coupled by grief and worry.

"Mike, think," she said carefully, trying to diffuse the live bomb in front of her, "If the FBI is compromised like you said… putting me in protective custody is just going to tell them right where I am…"

Mike grit his teeth.

"FUCK," he screamed, slamming his hand against the doorframe.

He sank down to the floor, knees bent in front of him, exhausted. He groaned frustratingly.

Carefully, she knelt next to him.

"I can't lose you, too," he said quietly, eyes on hers, "Hannah-"

There was a knock at her door- a very stern knock. She rolled her eyes, probably the police checking up on them. Or Ryan again.

"I'll go get that," she said, standing up, feeling guilty for leaving Mike sitting there but knowing he was too frustrated to move.

As she got to the door, she cursed herself again for not installing a peephole. She noticed Mike's gun on the end table but pushed away that thought. She definitely would not grab and it start wielding it at the police at her door.

Cautiously, she listened carefully. "Who is it?"

"NYPD," a voice called, "Max Hardy… I need to see Mike…"