Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the long delay. However, you should be thanking WIWJ for this chapter. Without her advice and her generous help in editing this chapter, this story might have been a casualty. Thank you so much!

Michael's chest keeps heaving long after they'd broken apart but his head is remarkably clear.

Fiona bites at her lip, her fingers squeezing and releasing his methodically slow as he reaches into the car to help her out.

He stops at the curb, taking his time tucking his shirt back into his pants, composing himself. His fingers brush over the edges of his bandage and he ignores the way his stomach clenches. If Fi notices she doesn't let on, pulling him towards the door to the bed and breakfast.

Fiona lets go to pay the attendant and Michael leans against the table, watching her loopy script and grinning at the name she chooses. Their eyes lock and she grins at his amusement.

"McBride?" His voice rumbles out at her and she turns back towards the car.

"I thought it had a nice ring to it." She sings. Her face is still flushed and for a second he imagines pining her against the stairs. He squints at her when she opens the front door and walks back to the car and grabs two bags from the trunk.

"When did I pack a bag?" He asks her playfully taking his black Kevlar from her.

"I may have packed it for you this morning." She's still looking down, but he can see the raised edge of her grin. "Park the car will you?" She dangles the keys from her finger until he snatches them from her. "I'll meet you upstairs."

"You were barely speaking to me this morning." He calls after her, shaking his head.

"So? When's that ever stopped us?" She looks back at him innocently before slipping through the door.

"She planned this." He muttered to himself, looking back to close the trunk. "I'm worried she's about to leave me and she's packing overnight bags." His eyes catch the shine of his shopping bag, he grabs it too before slamming the trunk and heading back towards the room. Michael grunts, adjusting the bags around himself and trying the door. "And of course she locked the door."

"Fi." He calls fumbling again with the bags, sending them crashing into the door.

"Who is it?" Fiona calls out teasingly.

"Open the door." He hissed.

The door swung back and Fiona's arm jetted out and grasped the front of his shirt tugging him inside. The luggage thudded to the ground with a clatter as he pressed his lips against hers. Michael's fingers slid up and down the silky material of her dress before grabbing the hem and tugging it over her head. He backs her towards the bed until she dropped onto the mattress.

Westen's breath is quick again when he looks at her, watching her deft fingers work at the buttons of his shirt until she can push it down his shoulders. She fumbles with his belt and he covers her hands with his yanking it free and dropping it to the floor without looking away from her.

She unbuttons his pants and he fights against the sudden rush of heat that shoots through him when they slide to the floor. He drops his head against her shoulder, his hands sliding up and down her arms. He turns his face into her neck and pressed his mouth to it. They melt into each other, skin to skin, she tangles her legs around his, hanging on for dear life afraid to let him go.

She moves her body closer until he has all of their weight, ignoring how he stumbles forward when she does. She's too far gone to think of anything but this, she grasps his hips and yanks him towards her.

He hisses as the searing pain radiates up his spine. His body tenses instantly, his hands clamping tighter on her upper arms. Michael's forehead lifts to her cheek and it's only then that she allows herself to consider that the clammy dampness there is not from passion. Her fingers splay against his waist gingerly, holding him up as he struggles to breathe against the spasm of his chest.

Fiona freezes, slowing her own breathing as if she can breathe for him. He grunts pulling his face up parallel with hers, before weakly dropping against her forehead. The minute it takes him to relax feels like ten as he finally swallows against the bile in the back of his throat and pries his eyes open.

The look on her face almost hurts as much as the pain she didn't mean to cause him. He places the palm of his hand soothingly against her cheek.

"I'm okay." He pants as she blinks away the tears that want to leak from her eyes and her chin trembles as she breathes out a breath.

"I'm sorry." She whispers as he lifts his arm away and lets her escape. She walks a few steps away before he pulls a quilt from the edge of the bed and drapes it over her shoulder. "I got carried away." He put his hands on her shoulders, laying a kiss on the top of her head. "I forgot you almost died two days ago."

"Fi, what are we doing?" He exhaled, moving back to the bed and sinking down on it. She turned to look at him, a weak smile on her lips when she realizes how pitiful he really looks, sweaty and battered sitting on the bed in his boxers.

"What we always do when we argue." She whispered, reaching her hand to stroke the side of his pale face. Michael reached for the other arm, tugging her to him. "Have sex and forget about it."

"We need to talk. Really talk." He whispered, his eyes clicking up to hers.

"We're so not good-." Her head shakes as she whispers until he takes her hand in his, slipping inside the quilt and laying them over her abdomen.

"We better get good at it." He whispers carefully, a small smile upon his lips. She watches his thumbs trace against the bare skin beneath her belly button before lifting her eyes to his.

She nods at him, swallowing against the tightness of her throat. Michael tugged her onto her lap, resting against her shoulder as she adjusted the blanket around them both. Holds her closer, focusing on the calm even movements of her breathing, wondering where to start. His eyes settle on one of the objects on the floor.

"I got you something." He breathes, standing up slowly as she moved off of him. She watches him carefully as he reaches down and fishes the bag from the pile and sticking it out to her.

"I didn't-. We don't know what it is so-." He moves his hand in a circle before pointing to her body again as she pulled out the onesies. "I got green and yellow." She stares at the package. "They've got animals and stuff. I was iffy on the green but it's light, so if it's a girl-."

"Michael…" She smiles and he lets out the breath he had been holding and sits beside her on the bed. He comes to sit beside her, watching her look at the little set of clothes.

"You like them?" He watches her smooth her hand over the fuzzy alligator, before dropping it to her lap and turning towards him and nodding slowly before leaning in and carefully kissing him. She lifts the baby books out with a smile.

"Research materials." He tells her softly.

"When did you have time to-?" Her voice trails off when she sees the expression on his face. She presses her fingertips against the wrinkles between his eyes before letting them drop back to the stuffed animal. He swallows, licking his lips and gathering his words.

"I wanted to show you-. I needed a way to tell you that-." He covered her hand with his. "I'm in this with you."

"Are you?" She whispers through her barely opened mouth.

Michael's head nodded painstakingly slowly.

"I'm in." He promised, his lips twitching as hers broke into a tiny grin.