Originally I was not planning to continue this story, but the other day I watched the last two episodes and then reread this fic and suddenly there was more to the story pouring out. Don't know where things will go after this, if anywhere, but here you go…

***

A few hours later I heard a slight tapping on the door and a sliver of light from the hallway spilled into the dark sanctuary Fiona and I had been sleeping in.

"Mike," Sam whispered.

I shifted in bed and tried to untangle myself from Fiona without waking her. She gave a quiet little sigh, but never cracked an eyelid.

I padded my way out into the hallway rubbing my eyes, hoping that Sam would think they were bloodshot from lack of sleep and not realize it was from crying. "What is it, Sam?" I grumbled.

"I've got us a place to stay," he murmured trying not to wake anyone else. It's big enough for all five of us and it's furnished so Sean and Fi will still have a place to recuperate."

"I think we're all going to need a place to recuperate after this is done," I sighed. "Please tell me this place has fewer windows than the last place you found us."

"Well there'll be some windows, but they'll be on the 32nd floor looking out over the bay, so unless they've got jetpacks, I think we'll be okay."

I narrowed my eyes at him as if to say, 'Let's not tempt fate.'

"Fine," I said. "Let's try to get out of here before the sun comes back up. Have you gotten any sleep yet?"

"No," he said, "but I'm okay. All the adrenaline-"

"Go lay down for a couple hours," I told him. "We're all going to need to be alert tomorrow. I'm gonna start putting some bags together."

"Alright. You sure you're okay?" I nodded and shooed him off down the hallway towards what used to be Nate's room.

I slipped quietly back into my own room. I stood by the door for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness again. There was a rustling in the bed and then, "Michael?"

"It's okay, Fi," I whispered as I padded over to her. "Go back to sleep." I kissed her forehead.

"Mmm," she sighed and mumbled something unintelligible and then she was back asleep.

I smiled and started unbuttoning the shirt I'd ended up sleeping in. I stripped off my pants and everything else before turning on the shower. The warm water beat against my back and I could feel that I would be getting a bruise where I'd been hit with the beanbag round. I gingerly fingered my forehead and found it was also a bit tender. All things considered though, a couple bruises were nothing more than paper cuts. With everything that had gone on today, with everything that had happened, things could have been much worse.

I tried to close my eyes against the stream of water, but when I did all I could see was O'Neil with his arm wrapped around Fi as he tried to use her to shield himself. Before I knew it I was breathing heavier just thinking about the bastard. I leaned against the tiles to steady myself and took some deep breaths until I could feel my heart rate slow down again. But when I tried closing my eyes again it only led to more visions, this time of Fiona floating facedown in the water, lifeless, with her arms bound behind her back.

It was at that point that I decided I needed to get out of the shower.

After slipping into the clean clothes I'd brought from the loft, I made my way out to the living room. Sean was still asleep so I tried to be quiet while I gathered up all the medical supplies we would need at the safe house.

Before long a creak in the hallway caught my attention. I grabbed Fiona's H&K off the coffee table and glided silently towards the sound. I was ready to pounce when my mother walked around the corner in her bathrobe.

"Mom!" I breathed, shoving the gun away as quickly as possible.

"Michael," she drawled sleepily. "I thought I heard someone up."

"You heard me? How could you hear me? Sean didn't even hear me and he was right there in the same room."

"Well, excuse me for pointing this out Michael, but if you recall…I wasn't the one shot multiple times yesterday." She paused to pull a pack of cigarettes out of a drawer. "Thank God." She lit a cigarette. "What are you doing up at this hour anyway?"

"I was packing. I need you to pack up some stuff too. We're gonna need to lay low for a few days."

The tendrils of smoke swirled around her head as she let out a breath. "Now what?" she demanded. "I thought this was finished. You said you all got rid of the guys who did this to poor Fiona and her brother. Now you're telling me we have to leave again?"

"I thought it was fixed too, Ma, but it's not. I can't explain it right now." She glared at me. "I can't explain it because I don't really even understand it myself," I tried to reason with her. "It's just…it's bigger than those guys from Ireland. It has to do with what I did to keep Fiona safe. That's all I know."

She seemed sufficiently satisfied by that response and got started making a pot of coffee.

"Mom, when Dad was sick did he ever need a wheelchair or anything like that? Do you maybe have a-"

She cut me off without even looking up. "There's a wheelchair in the back of the closet in my room."

I just blinked a few times. "Thanks," I mumbled and headed in that direction.

She poked her head around the corner as I was making my way down the hall and called after me, "Pull out my suitcase for me while you're in there, would you dear?"

"Yeah Ma."

About two hours later, Sam and I had loaded up Sam's car with the things we would need and pulled it around to the garage where we could get Sean and Fi in more discretely. Even in the dark it would be best to use continued caution. While Mom and Sam helped Sean get some breakfast and get ready, I took Fi a plate of eggs and some juice.

She was already dressed when I walked in and she stood in the bathroom running her fingers through her hair.

"Michael," she stated my name flatly as she heard me come in. "You managed to bring fresh clothes, extra shoes, three hand guns, my toothbrush, your lock picking kit, extra cell phones, Advil, and binoculars…but you didn't think to bring anything for my hair?" She looked in the mirror in disgust and threw up her hands in defeat.

I set the food down on the bedside table and walked over to her. I ran my own fingers through her hair, trying to smooth the kinks she'd work into it. I smiled my most sincere smile at her, "Your hair is always so perfect, I just thought it was fixed by little cartoon birds every morning."

She gave me a mock glare and stalked over to the food. I watched in amusement as she arranged herself delicately on the bed with her legs crossed and back straight but then began devouring the meal like a child who'd been raised by wolves.

"You look like you feel much better," I noted.

"I'm fine," she mumbled between bites. "Just a scratch."

I knew downplaying the close call was one of her coping mechanisms, so I let it slide for now. "Sam's got us a new place to stay and we need to head out soon while it's still dark. You ready to go?"

She smiled a bit too broadly and I knew it was for my benefit. "Don't I look ready?"

I held her gaze for just a moment before I whispered, "You look perfect."