Back with another update :D This is an idea I've been meaning to do for a while, which is set during/after Meltdown. Review, blah, blah, blah, all that stuff, but enjoy!

"Daddy's home, you pricks!" The gunshot almost drowned out Michael's triumphant shout as he burst through the front door. He could barely contain his sigh of relief when he saw the mercenary holding a gun to his wife's head slump, the gun clattering to the floor.

Amanda shoved the dead weight of the mercenary off of her with a shiver. Michael ran up the stairs to her, feeling her shake underneath him as he wiped the blood away from her cheek. "Baby, are you okay?" he quickly asked, looking her up and down to see if she was hurt.

"...I'm fine but there's one in there with Tracey. He's in there with our girl…" she trailed off, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

He nodded, mouth set in a grim line, and ran past her into their daughter's bedroom, the sound of gunfire following quickly behind. Before she knew it, she was hugging her terrified daughter while Michael stared in horror at the mercenary with a bullet in his head on the floor. "Are you okay? Are you alright, sweetie?" Amanda asked her frantically.

"I...I think so," Tracey stuttered.

The sound of more hitmen entering the house broke Michael out of his stupor. "Alright, you two stay here, keep your heads down," he said as he reloaded his pistol and started for the door.

Amanda leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Be safe, baby," she whispered.

He smiled sadly at her as he pulled away. "Don't you worry about me," he said before leaving the bedroom.

She locked the door behind him. As if that will help against these guys, she thought bitterly. An explosion rang out as she started to walk towards the bed. "Michael, is that you?" she called out hesitantly, praying for a response. "Can we come out?"

"Not yet. Stay put," he replied gruffly, voice muffled by the door. "Goddamn it, there's so many of them…" he muttered the last part under his breath as if she wouldn't hear it.

She sat down next to Tracey. "I don't like this, Michael…" she said, tears starting to run down her face.

"Neither do I. Just keep calm," his voice was oddly soothing and relaxed despite the barrage of shots ringing out. Suddenly, the sound of bullets hitting drywall was interrupted by the sound of them meeting flesh and a small cry of pain coming from Michael.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Tracey asked in concern. Both of them waited with held breath for his response before he let out a deep breath.

"I'm fine, Trace. You just stay down, sweetie," he reassured her. With that, more mercenaries burst into the back doors of the house, the gunshots returning in full force.

Her daughter was shaking next to her. "They're gonna kill us, dad!"

"No one's gonna kill you. Daddy's got this," he said confidently, voice tapering off as he went outside, the door slamming behind him.

Thunder roared outside, doing nothing to mask the sounds of destruction happening right outside their house. Amanda whimpered and put her head in her hands, trying to drown out the noise. She knew she had to look strong for daughter, but she couldn't anymore. Not even two weeks after they'd moved back in, there were guns held to their heads in their own home! If Michael had been just a second later…

Tracey's hand on her shoulder brought her from her morbid thoughts. "He'll take care of this, right? We're gonna be okay?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah, he will. It's all gonna be fine…" Amanda smiled at her weakly because she was still trying to convince herself.

It seemed like an eternity before the gunshots finally stopped and the front door opened. "Trace? Amanda?" Michael called out. "I think they're gone!"

They stood up, sighing in relief, and opened the door, eyes widening at the mercenary hiding behind the corner. Amanda had just started to warn Michael before he came up the stairs and was hit in the head by the intruder, knocking him to the floor.

"I got you, you dick!" the Merryweather agent taunted her nearly unconscious husband.

Amanda and Tracey stood there, frozen in fear. "Fuck…" they cried.

"It's gonna be alright," Michael tried to comfort them, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were terrified. I'm sorry, he mouthed.

The hired soldier just laughed. "No, it's not," he grinned, pushing the gun closer to Michael's face.

Just as his finger had moved to pull the trigger, the lights turned off. The gunman waved his gun around, alert. "What was that? Someone there…? I'm gonna start shooting!" he yelled, much to their horror. "Fuck...fuck!"

That was the last thing he said before something knocked him out from behind. It certainly wasn't Michael, who was still groaning in pain while on his back. She squinted in confusion through the darkness for a moment before her son started laughing. "Heh, heh...yeah, you like that don't ya, huh? Take it all!" Jimmy taunted.

Amanda turned the lights back on, where she saw her second weirdest sight of the day. Jimmy, in full military gear and night vision goggles with his bong in hand, crouching over her husband's face. "Oh…" she stuttered before Michael realized what was going on.

"Get...the fuck...OFF ME!" he growled, shoving Jimmy off of him and stumbling back onto his feet.

"Aw, I-I thought I was on that guy!" Jimmy whined, pointing to the unconscious mercenary.

"So, you sit on his face?!" Michael asked angrily.

"It's called teabagging! I really fucked him up good though, huh?" their son asked proudly, practically beaming at the accomplishment.

Michael frowned before guiding him into the bedroom where the rest of them were. "Uh, thanks, kid, I guess. Alright, listen, I'm gonna make a call," he said as he started to close the door. Amanda opened her mouth to protest before he gently cut her off. "It's all gonna be okay, stay put."

A few minutes later, he opened the door, letting them out. "Who were you calling?" Amanda asked.

"A hotel. We need to get out of here...get you somewhere safe…" Michael said quickly. "We need to pack-"

"Michael, slow down," she interrupted him. "We need to take care of you first."

"What about me? I'm fine," he said dismissively.

Annoyed, she grabbed his arm and led him into their bedroom and in front of the mirror. "No, you're not."

He was shivering from a combination of adrenaline and the icy rainwater still dripping from his soaked tuxedo. Blood ran down his face from where he'd been hit with the butt of the pistol, a dark bruise already forming there, and one of his sleeves was soaked in dark red which she suspected wasn't from the other guys.

Michael sat down, sighing and clutching his head. "Alright, maybe I'm not fine. Just...be quick, okay?" he pleaded, earning a nod from her.

As she started cleaning out the blood from the cut on his head, Amanda looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was ruined, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The normal softness in her eyes was gone, replaced by complete fear.

She quickly looked down after she put a bandage over his cut, not even able to look at herself anymore, and turning her attention to the wound on his arm. Carefully, she took his jacket off and started to unbutton his shirt.

"You know...when I pictured you taking off my shirt tonight, I didn't think that it'd be like this," Michael attempted to joke.

The small laugh that she had managed was quickly cut short when she saw the bulletproof vest underneath his shirt with at least five bullets stuck in it. "Michael…" she started, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

"Good thing I don't leave home without one, huh?" he smiled at her sadly.

"Are things really this bad?" she asked shakily as she finished taking off the rest of his shirt, revealing the nasty looking bullet wound on his bicep.

"Not lately," he admitted, wincing as she cleaned and dressed the injury. "But usually...yeah, yeah, they have been."

"I thought you said that things were gonna better," Amanda muttered bitterly.

He shut his eyes, sighing. "I thought they would be."

Michael dragged their bags behind him while trying to shield Tracey from the sight of the dead bodies at the same time. "Don't look, sweetheart."

He heeded his own advice, too, quickly looking away when he glimpsed a body. When they finally made it outside, he quickly loaded their stuff into the car and practically sped out of the driveway the second everyone was in the car.

The drive to the hotel was a silent one, nobody really knowing what to say, and only put on a happy face while they were checking in. That act quickly dropped the second they got to their floor.

There was no expense spared when it came to their suite. Michael had gotten the most expensive one available, with three bedrooms and a balcony with a view of the city. Nobody really cared about how big their rooms were after what had just happened, but he needed anything to make him feel less guilty.

Everybody quickly grabbed their bags and went into their separate rooms, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.

He poked his head into Tracey's room. "Hey, baby girl. How are you holding up?" Michael asked in a gentle voice.

"Fine," she said flatly. Her eyes were emotionless and fixated on a spot on the wall.

With a sigh, he went into the room and sat down on the bed next to her. "You're not. I know you're scared, but you can talk to me, Trace."

"Daddy...what if they come back?" her voice was quivering as she looked up at him with a childlike fear that he hadn't seen in years.

"They won't. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you guys. Look...I know I'm not the perfect father, especially after what happened tonight, but I'm gonna keep you safe," he said soothingly and tucked her into bed like she was a kid again.

She smiled at him tiredly. "Thanks…"

"No problem. Now, get some sleep," he said softly.

Michael stood up and had just started walking towards the door before he heard a sleepy murmur from Tracey, "I love you, dad."

A small smile crossed his face. "I love you, too, sweetheart," he said before going to check on the others. A cursory glance into Jimmy's room showed that he was playing his video games as if they were at home and nothing had happened.

"So I shut the lights off and use my ninja skills to knock the guy out!" he bragged over his headset. "And then I teabag the guy after saving everyone's asses! It was crazy, man!"

Michael just rolled his eyes and shut the door, drowning out his son's bragging. He walked outside onto the balcony where he found Amanda. She was facing away from him and staring out at the skyline of the city.

"Hey," he said quietly, coming up behind her and gently wrapping his arms around her waist.

She immediately turned around and shoved him away with a look of disgust. "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked in confusion, but pulled away regardless.

"Don't fucking act like nothing happened tonight. Don't act like I want to jump into your arms after you saved me even though it was you who got us into danger in the first place!" Amanda's voice raised as she shoved him again.

"Amanda, calm down," he said softly, trying to comfort her. "I know you're upset right now…"

"Oh, you think?" she asked sarcastically. "Tell me something, Michael: do you really think that locking us up in some fancy hotel will make everything suddenly okay? That at the end of the day our entire family wasn't almost murdered only a week after we moved back in?"

Michael sighed. "Kind of, but-"

She scoffed. "Of course you'd think that. I forgot that everything is about you. Sad Michael is fucking sad again! Maybe if you'd been thinking about us at all, this wouldn't have happened! It's funny, Michael, how nobody tried to kill us when we weren't with you!"

Wordlessly, he turned away from her and started walking back towards the door, about to go back inside before her words cut him off.

"Don't you run away from this. I want you to know that if you would have been just a second later, we would have been dead! Dead because of YOU!" Amanda just kept yelling at him, tearing into him until there was nothing left, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop," he said weakly, his voice deadly calm. "E-fucking-nough already…"

"Not until you admit that you don't care about anything other than yourself-" she protested.

He turned back around to face her. "Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda…you don't think that I know that I'm everything you say I am? I know that I'm a fucking pathetic piece of shit, a monster, and a terrible father and husband, but I'm trying to deal with it. Trying and failing, apparently," he laughed resentfully and wiped at his eyes, revealing the tears forming in them.

Her eyes widened at the sight. Michael never cried, or at least not in front of her. Not once had she seen him cry. Not once in their long and complicated relationship. "Uh, I'm-" she began, not finding the right words to say.

Michael quickly stopped her. "Don't start feeling sorry for me now. You wanna know something? When you were gone, the thought of seeing you and the kids again was the only thing keeping me going. Even when I wanted to give up, end it all. And when you came back...I was so happy for the first time in so long. And now it's gone. Again..."

He paused after that, needing a minute to regain his composure. He let out a deep breath and ran his hands down his face before continuing. "Look...I get if you're finally done with me. After this shit is over with, go. Leave, take the kids, never see me again. If that's what it takes for you to be happy, I don't care. All I want is for you guys to be safe."

Amanda was reeling over what he'd just revealed to her. Soon enough, she felt tears running down her own face. "Michael, please…" she begged.

"Just...stop. I'll tell you when it's safe to leave. Goodbye, Amanda," he said tiredly. With that, he turned on his heels and started walking away.

She just stood there in shock for a second as she watched him go. She thought of what he'd told her, about how miserable he'd been, and realized she was just as miserable without him. If she let him leave now, she knew that she'd never see him again. Before she knew it, she was weakly yelling his name. "Michael!"

It was enough to make him pause long enough for her to run over and stand in between him and the door. Michael looked down at her in so much confusion and so much sadness. "What're you doing?" he asked before she put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him.

Amanda could feel him relax under her touch and he pulled her closer to him, his body slackening against the kiss. It was soft and slow, almost cautious, even.

"Please don't leave," she murmured after they drew apart.

Michael sighed in relief, his breath warm when it touched her lips, and whispered in her ear, "Never," before he picked her up and pinned her against the door. Their lips met again, the kiss full of unrelenting passion and relief.

This didn't make anything okay, they both knew that, but they also knew that they would deal with this way better than they ever could if they were apart. They were stronger than the things that had nearly destroyed them. Somehow, she knew, that they would get through this and make their relationship better. Better than it was a few months ago, better than it was now, better than it was even when they got married.

He impatiently pushed her further into the door before her frantic fingers managed to get it open. Michael quickly carried her into their bedroom and laid her down on the bed, his deft hands already taking her shirt off.

Amanda had just finished unbuttoning his shirt before she sat up and broke down in tears . She saw the bruises left from the bullets that would have killed him had it not been for his vest, saw the bandaged gunshot wound on his arm, saw the new scars covering his body. "I'm so sorry, Michael…" she sobbed.

"Don't you be sorry for anything. Not right now. I'm the one who's sorry for everything, darling," he said sadly as he pressed his lips to her forehead and waited for her crying to calm down. "We can stop if you want."

"No." She shook her head, grabbing the collar of his undone shirt and tugging him into another kiss. Her fingers moved down to his belt and quickly undid it, tossing it aside to the floor.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked gently, staring deep into her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered before wrapping her hands around his neck. "Just shut up and kiss me."

Neither of them got much sleep that night, between her waking up screaming from newfound nightmares and him having to comfort her. Eventually though, with his arms wrapped tightly around her and her having exhausted all of her tears, they managed to fall into a deep sleep.

Amanda woke up first to streams of sunlight coming through the blinds. She looked at her husband and delicately pressed a kiss to his cheek. Michael slowly woke up with a sleepy smirk. "Mornin'..." he greeted.

"You're not any of the things I said you were. You're so much better than all of that, Michael," she murmured. "If anything, those things are all about me."

"They're not. I know you were pissed and you said some things you probably didn't mean, even though I don't blame you," he chuckled. "I love you, you know."

"I do…" she said. "I love you, too."

He looked at her with a small frown on his face. "Are we gonna be okay, Amanda?"

"I'm not gonna lie...it's going to take a long time, especially after last night, and it's not gonna be easy, but…" she gave him a quick peck on the lips before giving him a soft smile. "I think we just might make it, Michael."