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"Hey, kid."

Michael raised his head at the familiar voice. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but it felt like forever. Though he wasn't sure why he was in a rush to go anywhere else. If Larry was to be believed, his wife was dead, and the woman who had claimed to care so much for him killed her.

Larry strolled into the room, his eyes trained on Michael. "You've been moping around for three days, kid. Enough."

The younger man scowled.

"Come on." He carefully pulled Michael to his feet, then released his arm. "We're going to do a training exercise."

"Training…? What are you talking about?"

"Trust me, kid. This is going to help you." Larry positioned himself beside Michael. "Hit me."

Now he was even more confused. "What?"

"Hit me. Take a swing."

"Why?"

"Don't ask why! Just do it." Larry moved around the younger man. "Come on. Hit me!"

His words echoed in Michael's head, and without thinking, Michael's fist shot out and made contact with Larry's mouth.

Brushing the blood away from his split lip, Larry grinned wickedly, his eyes dancing.

"Good job, kid. Again."

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Fiona heaved a sigh as she unlocked the door to the loft and let herself in. She had been searching for Michael nonstop for three days, with no success. Armand had also sent people out, but she had yet to hear anything.

Her footsteps seemed deafening as she made her way to the bed, their bed. God, she missed him. Reaching down, she ran her hand lightly over the comforter. Not knowing where he was or if he was okay was killing her. Was he being taken care of? Was he eating? What about his head injury?

Did he miss her?

She sat down on the foot of the bed, deflated. She hadn't allowed herself to cry since he had been taken. Not even when she was alone in the loft and her head was buried in his pillow so that she could smell the faint traces of him that lingered.

No, she wouldn't allow herself to cry. She couldn't.

Getting to her feet, she began pulling out every weapon she owned, including the ones she had carried with her during her search. She laid them out on the floor and retrieved jars of polish and old rags. Keeping her hands busy would keep her mind busy as well.

Wrong.

The more she polished, the more she thought about Michael. And the more she thought about him, the more she worried, the harder her hands moved.

Finally she stopped when she felt a tear roll down her cheek. But anger was simmering in her, and before she could stop herself, she launched herself off of the floor and snatched one of her snow globes from the shelf Michael had built for her. Then she drew back and let it go, deriving a small amount of satisfaction from the sound the glass made as it shattered against the wall.

She stood there, her chest heaving and her fingers twitching. She needed Michael back. She needed him like she needed the sun to rise again, like her heart needed to beat. Her world was falling down around her, crushing her, and she knew no way to stop it except to find Michael.

Slowly, methodically, she began putting her weapons away, leaving out only a select few. When she was finished, she gathered the weapons she'd left out and walked out of the loft.

The moon was beaming down on her as she walked down the stairs, but she didn't care what time of night it was. Michael was out there, somewhere, and she was going to find him.

She had to.

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Across town, Madeline crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and pulled out another with shaky fingers. She had seen Sam a handful of times since her son was snatched, and she had seen Fiona even less than she had Sam. Sam assured her it was because Fiona was looking for Michael, but she needed to see the younger woman and hear that for herself.

She needed to know that Fiona hadn't given up on Michael.

Madeline took a long drag from her cigarette and looked out the window at the moon shining so brightly in the night time sky.

"Where are you, Michael?"

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In another part of town, Sam sat alone on a barstool, nursing a glass of whiskey. Women had been approaching him all night, something he normally would have taken great delight in, but not tonight. Tonight his thoughts were on his missing best friend and the woman who was completely lost without him. He had been reaching out to every contact, to every cop, to every low level drug dealer in Miami, but nothing had panned out. Whoever took him was smart, and as time passed, the feeling of dread in Sam's gut intensified. If this had been some kind of ransom, whoever had taken Mikey surely would have made contact by now. And if it was someone with a grudge, they would have found his body.

No, whoever had taken him wanted him alive. For what, Sam couldn't figure out. Unless…

Sam suddenly slammed his glass down and threw some cash on the bar. Then he jumped off of the stool and left the bar, stumbling into the muggy Miami heat.

There was only one person who could have done this, who would want Mikey alive for this long. He just prayed that he was right

If he was wrong, it was only a matter of time before they would find Mikey's body.

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After dinner, Michael sat in his bed, his fingers absently going through his hair. His muscles were sore from the workout Larry had insisted upon, but afterward, Larry had seemed extremely pleased. And he wasn't sure why, but Michael wanted his approval.

He breathed in slowly, then froze as a scene began to play out in his mind's eye, like a movie that he couldn't stop. He was at a kitchen table, and there was a woman sitting beside him, looking half-frustrated and half-amused. There was a large gift in his hand.

"It's a bayonet."

"Used during the first World War for close fighting."

"…thanks."

"Well, someone once told me that caring for you is like trench warfare. So I thought you should arm yourself."

The scene was over just as quickly as it started, and he was left with a strange mixture of love, devotion and confusion. The woman he kept seeing was absolutely beautiful, and again he wondered if she was his wife, or the woman Larry claimed killed her.

Slowly he laid down, curling up on his right side.

What he needed was answers, and he had no idea how to get the real ones.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Awww...poor everybody. LOL. The quote at the end is from Question And Answer, such an awesome ep! Make sure to stop by my profile to check out my newest poll! I also joined twitter yesterday, and am currently stalking Jeffrey and Gabrielle. LMFAO. Follow me MionaShulesLove. Thanks for reading, and please review!