Oh…my gosh…sorry for the ridiculously long wait between updates! I blame my job and my new fascination with the website pinterest. Ok, as much as I LOVE the new season and the huge role that my beloved Birkhoff is playing, this story is still not set in the new season. Sorry.

Welcome to the new readers! Welcome back to all those who took the summer off of fanfiction reading. I'm glad you're back, you were missed! Hi again to those of you who have been faithfully reading. The hits traffic on this story has absolutely gone through the roof after Season 2 premiered. Every time I check it I feel more and more guilty for not updating sooner. So here it is, a long time coming, Chapter 15!

Birkhoff pushed his chair away from his work station and stomped out of Operations. He couldn't watch the live feed. He let the door slam behind him and stumbled down to his own private lair. He threw himself down on his beaten up leather couch, but he missed. He grazed the arm of the couch before landing on the cold cement floor. He stayed there… that's where he deserved to be anyway.

If he was a drug user he'd get high. If he was an alcoholic he'd run to the corner liquor store and cash out his latest pay check. This was the time when you wanted to numb the pain. It was this type of despair that sent people to do stupid selfish things. But he wasn't one of those types of people, Birkhoff retreated back into himself.

He'd thought he'd finally won a battle with Division. Sending Claire the escape route was a victory for him. For a few short moments he'd dared to think they didn't control him. Wrong, he screamed to himself. Why would he think he had any choices left? But then again for a few precious minutes he had defied Division, hadn't he? And it wasn't frightening, not in those ten or fifteen minutes when he'd thought he'd succeeded, it was brave. No, he couldn't use the word brave because any shred of bravery had been whipped out completely by his next action. Even faster than he'd double crossed Division he'd betrayed her. If what he did first was brave, then the English language didn't have a word to describe what he did next. Despicable? Self-serving? Cowardly? None of them really seemed to fit the situation.

He'd stopped the train.

He'd helped them catch her.

All because for one second, Percy threatened his life.

And now, she would lose hers.

He hated Percy, he had visions of running up to the armory and checking out a gun and shooting him right in Operations. It might even work. Who would stop him? The guards would let him pass, his own techs would be seated at their workstations, and heck, if Amanda was in operations she'd probably step aside and let him have the shot! Of course she'd have him cancelled as punishment but would it really matter?

Slowly the anger subsided and made way for the emotions that had initially thrown him to the floor, regret and dismay. He couldn't believe the person he'd become. He'd always been selfish, he had to be, no one was watching his back so he needed to watch out for himself above all other things. That changed when he met Claire, when they were together he watched out for her more than himself.

Or maybe, he hadn't.

No, he hadn't. He had truly been a coward by anyone's definition.

He didn't know how long he sat on the floor; he was unaware of the passing of time. Pop-ups flashed on the computer across the room, beeps announced new emails, the desk phone rang then went to voicemail all without Birkhoff moving off the floor. No one came looking for him, if he'd been thinking clearly he would have expected them to come after him. But no one disturbed his cocoon of self loathing.

The nearly constant vibration of his right jean pocket eventually won him over. He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, the caller ID read Michael's number. He pressed ignore. " Nine Missed Calls" the phone read just before Birkhoff put it back in his pocket. A few seconds later the phone buzzed again. He pulled the phone from his pocket again and he distractedly pressed what he thought was the same button, but like the couch before he missed and accidentally answered the call.

"Birkhoff?" He heard Michaels voice snap. He held the phone far away from his face, he didn't want to talk to Michael. But he also couldn't really hang up on him either. "BIRKHOFF!" He heard him shout.

"What, Michael?" He finally answered.

"I've been calling you all afternoon!" Michael shouted angrily.

Birkhoff couldn't even fake interest. "What do you want." He said dismissively.

"I have the suspect's cell phone. But it's encrypted. I need you to break it."

"Fine." He answered shortly.

"It needs to be done now." The voice on the other end of the line said. "It's probably got the location of Lauriet's key and-" he hesitated a moment. "And other classified equipment."

Birkhoff sat silent on the other end of the line. He didn't care.

"It's a top priority." He said conclusively.

"Bring it down." Birkhoff said, Michael could bring the cell phone down, he still wasn't going to get off the floor.

"I'm not at Division! I'm at the holding facility in Harding. You need to come get it."

A new emotion entered Birkhoff's body, annoyance. "Then I'll see it when you get here!" He sneered.

"Birkhoff, I can't leave the prisoner unguarded just so you can sit on your ass in your little layer." He growled. "Come here and get it!"

Unguarded… something in that word startled Birkhoff. "The prisoner's alive?"

"For now." Michael said. "Dead people don't talk"

Birkhoff hesitated a moment, there might be a chance to turn his decision up in Operations around. He didn't want to sound too eager.

"Alright." He conceded. "I'll come this time, but don't expect this special treatment to continue." The line went dead and Birkhoff shoved the phone into his shirt pocket.

A few moments later he'd secured the keys to a Division vehicle and was on his way toward the holding facility an hour away from operations. It was plenty of time to form a plan but only if there was one to be formed. He didn't know what he was walking into. If he saw an exit he'd make it happen, but what were the odds?

He pulled up alongside of what appeared to be an old abandoned store. The forgotten building was much more than it seemed. It was a fully fortified bunker and the glass in the store front had been replaced with bullet proof glass. The entire property was completely encased in the best security system he could install. He slipped around to the back of the building where he found a Division vehicle parked. He slid his fingers into a crack near the foundation and found the call button. It was only a moment before Michael appeared in the doorway.

"Take your time next time!" Michael growled as he pushed the door open just far enough for Birkhoff to enter.

"Aw, You're welcome. I love to trapes out to dumb fuck nowhere to do your job for you!" Birkhoff snapped sarcastically.

"My job!" He snapped as he turned back to a stair case and clobbered down the wooden slats to the basement of the building.

"Yea, I train your recruits to decript a cell phone. Seriously dude, you need to audit my class." Birkhoff said as he followed.

"If it was a regular phone I would decript it." Michael said as he reached the bottom of the stairs and led Birkhoff into the main room of the holding facility.

The main room looked like a typical college male's apartment. Half of it was occupied by miss matched furniture and a large flat screen TV. The other side of the room contained two collapsible tables made into computer work stations. Birkhoff settled himself in front of one of the work stations.

Michael handed him the cell phone then grabbed his own coat off the couch.

"Where are you going?" Birkhoff asked nervously.

"I'm hungry." Michael answered. "And you didn't bring anything." Birkhoff looked at the clock for the first time since Claire had been caught. It was nearly eight.

"Aren't you supposed to…" Birkhoff stopped, this was the break he needed. "Interrogate her, or something?"

"I have, she won't talk." He said as he slipped on the coat and turned to the door. "Decrypt that phone, I need more to go on. I'll be back in fifteen. Call me if anything comes up."

Birkhoff watched on the monitors as Michael's SUV turned out onto the deserted county highway. He had all he could do to sit in his chair for two minutes and allow the cameras to record him working so he could loop the feed. After the two minutes were up he went to adjacent room and opened the heavy solid metal door.

Claire was sitting in a simple wooden chair in the middle of the empty room. She didn't even look over at the door when he opened it. Her curly brown hair hung lose, obscuring her face from view.

"Claire," He said and he saw her turn her head a few degrees to see him. She still didn't turn to him she only saw him out of the corner of her eye. "I can get you out of here, but we have to move now. Michael's gone to get food, he'll be back any second."

Claire didn't move. "Come on!" He said louder.

"Last time you 'helped' me, you led me into a trap." She said slow and cool. She turned away. Birkhoff was momentarily taken aback, she'd never spoken to him in that way before.

"No, that was a terrible mistake." He argued but she didn't seem to hear him

"You led me right into the train station and stalled the train. You backed me into a corner. You made sure I had no escape." She said in the same cold tone. "Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice… you won't fool me twice."

"It wasn't supposed to be a trap. It was a solid escape route! But they figured it out. There wasn't enough time and he threatened me. He'd have killed me right there in my chair if I didn't do what he ordered!"

"So now, they'll kill me here in this chair."

"Yeah. Unless you come with me now." he hissed impatiently

"No." she answered. Finally she glanced up at him with both eyes, but then she dropped her gaze back to the wall on the otherside of the room. He could see one eye was slightly red and a bruise was beginning to show. He forced the thought from his mind but if Michael had laid a hand on Claire, he'd never forgive him.

"Look, I lie to everyone, you know that." He said calmly, "everyone but you. People don't trust me. I get that. And I'm fine with them not trusting me… they shouldn't." He paused his speech but walked all the way into the room until he was close enough to reach out and touch her. "But, I need your trust and I will spend every moment of the rest of our lives trying to build that back."

She finally looked up and met his eyes but a second later she dropped her gaze

"I Lo—"

"Stop…" she interrupted. "Don't go there…" She sighed slightly but remained quiet, then she glanced down at the handcuff that held her wrist tightly to the chair.

"Will you come with me?" He asked softly after a few second. She nodded slightly then Birkoff handed her a thin metal screwdriver. "Pick it." "I'll look for the key but Michael's probably got it." Birkhoff left the room and quickly packed up his laptop and Claire's phone. He tossed the strap of his messenger bag over his head and turned just in time to see Claire emerging from the interrogation room. She scanned the new room quickly and then darted across it toward the bathroom.

"Seriously!" He shouted after her "We're escaping here, I'd kinda like to leave!"

"You have no idea!" She yelled back across the room. He laughed slightly as he turned back to the monitors on the table. One set of monitors showed the looped feed of an empty parking lot, he set a timer for the security cameras to stop the loop in two minutes. That would give him enough time to get out with Claire, and it would catch Michael's vehicle entering the parking lot when he returned. The other set showed a true live video of what was happening outside the building.

"Ready?" He asked as he saw her emerge from the bathroom.

"Yea." She answered and he turned and walked past his monitors to the staircase. He waited for her as she pulled her coat off one of the couches and glided across the room to meet him but she stopped short at the monitors. "You looped this right?" She asked as she stared at the second set of monitors.

"Of course," he answered "the monitor on the right uploads to Division and that one's looped. The monitor on the left is a true feed."

"There's a truck!" She hissed.

"What!" Birkhoff sputtered as he clobbered down the few stairs he'd already ascended. "No that's not possible! Michael would have to drive at least 15 min in any direction for food. He can't be back this soon!" He argued with himself as he checked his watch. Claire turned around and began to open drawers and check under the stained area rug.

"I need a weapon!" She shouted.

"No, all the guns are in the safe" he said distractedly as the first three men piled out of the black SUV. "You need authorization, I don't have it. The code is changed daily, and only Percy has the codes."

"Well get them!" Claire hissed.

"We don't have time." Birkoff said without taking his eyes from the screen. Then he saw the last man emerge from the SUV, Roan. "Aw, no, no, no!"

"What?" Claire cried as she crossed the room so she could see the feed. "That's… not Michael." She whispered.

"No." Birkhoff said. He dialed his phone as they both heard the door buzzer sound. "He can't get in, the door is in lockdown. Only way he gets in is if I open that door." He said, and she dug her fingers into his shoulder.

Birkhoff waited impatiently as the phone rang and rang, finally Michael answered. "Birkoff."

"Roan's here." Birkhoff said shortly "Tell me you didn't authorize this Michael! Tell me you didn't call a clean!"

"It's not a clean, she needs some persuasion." Michael said and Birkhoff shut his eyes. He felt her fingers release his shoulder.

"Michael… she's just a girl."

"Percy gave the order." Michael said. "You better let him in. I'm on my way back."

Birkhoff ended the call on the cell phone and turned around slowly to face Claire. She was already across the room waiting by the door of the interrogation room. "There's no other way out is there?" she asked.

"No," he whispered and she turned and went back into the interrogation room. Birkhoff followed her and when he reached the door he saw she had already placed her wrist back in the handcuff and fastened it around her wrist.

"Then tell them you decrypted my phone." She said "Tell them there is evidence that I have a Division hard drive and if they kill me it will upload to news feeds all over the world."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, he couldn't get over the fact that she had just sat back down in the chair long enough to process what she had just told him.

"There are seven hard drives that contain evidence of every division job. One of those hard drives is wired to a division agent and if he dies it uploads. Tell them I've done the same with mine."

"I don't know anything about a hard drive, let alone seven. I would know about something like that."

" They exist B. I have two."

"I don't.." Birkhoff began but the phone in his hand began to buzz again. This time it was Roan.

"Tell them B. Please."

"They won't buy it." He answered "If you're wrong they'll kill me. Then you."

"No, I swear I have them, that's why they havn't killed me yet. They want them back."

"Just…ok…." Birkhoff stammered distracted by his cell phone that still showed the incoming call from Roan. "tell this guy what he wants to know. Don't play with him like you're playing with Michael." He instructed. "I'm… I have to go let him in."

Birkhoff shut the door behind him and headed up toward the solid metal door that was the only barrier between him and Roan. He released the deadbolts and opened the door for the team of cleaners. They pushed past him without even looking at him and clobbered down the old wooden stairs. Birkhoff followed them down, took a deep breath, and addressed Roan directly for maybe the third time during his time at Division.

"Roan!" He said loudly, he forced his voice not to crack and to sound as indifferent as possible. "I don't know what your orders are but you may want to hold off on a clean."

Roan turned slightly toward Birkhoff.

"There's information on this phone that might change Percy's mind about the cleaner order." Birkhoff said confidently. "I was just getting ready to call him."

Roan's eyes darted down to the phone in Birkhoff's hand then for the first time up to his face. Birkhoff needed to resist the urge to swallow hard and step backward. "She has a black box, maybe even two. But one for sure." Birkhoff reported "and if she dies that blackbox uploads to news feeds all over the world."

Roan's face was nearly impossible to read, but Birkhoff suspected that he hadn't surprised the cleaner with his information.

"I'll make the call." Roan finally said he nodded to the other men in his party and they went into the holding room with Claire. Birkhoff's stomach turned over. He heard Roan explaining what Birkhoff had told him to Percy. He sat back down in his chair by one of the computer stations and pretended to busy himself with further decoding the phone. Soon Roan was next to his chair with the phone outstretched to him. As he took the phone he tried to stop the tremor in his hand.

"Yeah." Birkhoff said clearly into the cell phone.

"Roan, tells me you found some potentially useful information on the terrorist's cell phone." Amanda said in her usual cold tone. Birkhoff had been expecting to speak to Percy, hearing Amanda's voice unnerved him.

"Yes." Birkhoff began. "Yea, I don't know anything about these harddrives but judging by the fact that she's decoded one and manipulated it, who ever you hired to secure them was seriously subpar. You all should have had me on it from the beginning. Anyway, I only have it partially decrypted, but from what I can tell the terrorist has obtained two hard drives out of seven. One of them has been modified to broadcast to news feeds all over the world if she dies. I haven't gotten far enough to find out if the second drive was modified in the same way." Birkhoff reported to Amanda, he prayed that Claire wasn't screwing him. God, he hoped she actually had two of these mysterious hard drives he knew nothing about. Amanda was silent for a moment then she finally spoke.

"How long till you finish decrypting the phone?"

"Well, she definitely enhanced the security settings, the phone is really more of a fully functional computer than a phone. And, she's not completely inept in security systems. It will take some time, I'd say 24-48 hours."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Birkhoff waited for Amanda to cast the final blow and for everything to blow up in his face.

"Give the phone to Roan." She said coldly. Birkhoff slowly lowered the phone and handed it back to Roan.

"Understood." He said after listening to the phone for no more than a few seconds. He hung the phone up and placed it back in his pocket.

"What did she say?" Birkhoff asked, but Roan merely turned and went into the holding room.

Birkhoff paced back and forth in front of the solid steel door that stood between him and the holding area, it was too thick and he couldn't hear what was going on in the room. He didn't know what was worse, seeing what was happening or not knowing what was happening beyond the door. He was fairly certain that he could still hear a gunshot, through the door but maybe not if they used a silencer. At close range, Roan always used a silencer.

Every few seconds he checked the time on his phone, it was fifteen minutes since he'd called Michael. What could possibly take that long? He questioned.

Maybe he should go in there, he thought. He could make up some crazy story about how the building was burning down and they all had to get out. No, they'd never go for that he reminded himself. He'd actually need to burn the store down.

Burn the store down.

He could do that.

He broke the path of his pacing and started to look for matches, and an accelerant. He found a lighter in one of the drawers and held it in his hand. But even if he started the building on fire. How would he get Claire out? Roan wouldn't just go running out of an interrogation room and leave his witness."Damit" Birkhoff cursed. Arson wouldn't work.

Play to your strengths. He thought. His strength wasn't arson, it was technology. He scuffled across the room and sat down at his computer. Ok, now what? He thought. He immediately remotely hacked into Roan's phone. He paged through the call logs without thinking. Then he settled on one number, Percy's. He placed a call to Roan's phone marked with Percy's number, when Roan answered he let the signal fail.

There, he thought, now Roan has to come out and redial Percy. But he waited more than two minutes and no one came out of the room. When his own phone buzzed he nearly lept out of his chair. He didn't even check the caller ID, ran straight up the stairs and opened the door for Michael.

"Roan's still in there!" he growled at Michael.

Michael looked him up and down before he began to descend the stairs. "Calm down." Michael said simply. But Birkhoff was far from calming down.

"Michael!" He snapped when he saw him toss a fast food bag down on the table next to Birkoff's computer.

Birkhoff saw Michael roll his eyes at him, "I'm going to eat my dinner!" Michael growled.

"No!" He bellowed back. "I swear, I won't do one bit of work on this phone till you get Roan out of here."

"Oh, Birkhoff please" Michael began.

"No, Dude, I'm serious. He gotts to go." His eyes were sharp and stubborn, Michael knew that look. There was no reasoning with that look.

"And I can't eat my sandwich first?" Michael questioned.

"Fine, and in that time I'll hack your bank account and donate the entire contents to charity!"

"Go ahead." Michael said casually as he opened the bag on the desk. Birkhoff glowered down at Michael for a second before stomping over to a computer station where he began to type furiously. After about a minute Michael glanced over.

"Hey! What the hell!" Michael snapped as he saw his bank statement flash across Birkhoff's screen.

"Don't make me press enter…" Birkhoff threatened.

"FINE! fine, alright." Michael shouted as he laid down his sandwich and got up from the table. "What the fuck is up with you tonight?"

Birkhoff watched Michael approach the doorway as he gently straightened his suit jacket. Finally, Michael reached for the door handle and pushed the solid steel door open. "Go get cleaned up." He said with the same slow, calm, smoky voice that Birkhoff was so used to.

The first thing Michael noticed when he opened the door was Roan's sleeves. He'd rolled them carefully back to his elbows but they were still speckled with bright red blood. His eyes moved slowly down Roan's forearms until he reached his fists, they were nearly caked with blood. He looked up and saw that Roan's two team members had turned and faced him while Roan was still watching his victim intently.

The girl he'd arrested earlier laid on the floor curled in a fetal position. Smears of blood now stained the concrete floor. The chair he'd handcuffed her to this afternoon was broken into bits and strewn across the room.

"Go get cleaned up." Michael said calmly. The two members of Roan's team turned and stepped out of the room. Roan waited just a moment longer before he turned and followed them. Roan was taller than Michael and as he left the room he glanced down at him, a small but knowing smirk was plastered across his face.

Even though Michael frequently worked with Roan, he made him uncomfortable. Michael honestly couldn't decide if Roan was a sociopath or not, the only thing missing was that Roan didn't seem to enjoy killing. He didn't seem to take pleasure in his job but he certainly did it well and felt no remorse for his targets. Roan put about as much thought into killing someone as most people put into stepping on bugs on the sidewalk, completely and utterly indifferent.

Michael heard the door squeek shut behind him and he saw the little figure on the floor startle.

He took a few slow steps across the room and sat down in the only chair left in the room that was still intact.

The woman on the floor hardly moved as he stepped closer to her. She coughed then whined ever so slightly. It was the first sound she'd made in his presence since he arrested her. He leaned over slightly in his chair so he could see her face. She'd been beaten badly by Roan and his team. A gash crossed her forehead just below her hair line and it dripped blood down across her face. Her left eye was beginning to swell and was red and blistered. She was bleeding slightly from her nose and from her lip but she hadn't made any attempt to clean the blood away.

"Lena?" he asked but there was no response. She was unconscious.

The door clicked shut behind Michael and Birkhoff got up from his chair again. He couldn't sit still. A few seconds later the door opened and Birkhoff watched the three men emerge from the holding room. He tried not to react but the sight of blood caked on to each of their hands forced him to sit back down in his chair. He turned away from them and tried to pretend to be busy with his computer. He heard the water run in the bathroom and he heard someone unzip a duffle bag but he forced himself not to turn around and watch the men.

Two of the men crossed in front of him and disappeared up the stairs, but Roan was still in the room. He heard his shoes slowly cross behind him, and Birkhoff couldn't fight the urge to turn toward him. He swerved his chair around to face him, looking Roan in the eye was scary, but allowing him to walk behind you without turning around was downright terrifying.

He stopped next to Birkhoff's chair and fixed his eyes on the wall across the room, he massaged the knuckles on his right hand absentmindedly as he spoke to Birkhoff. "You deceived me today." He said slowly.

Birkhoff's throat closed tight, he couldn't have spoken if he tried but even if his lungs would allow it he didn't know what to say or how to deny it. "No," he finally croaked "It's all here, on her phone."

Roan nodded once then he looked straight down at Birkhoff. He didn't have to say a word, he didn't believe him.

Roan turned and walked slowly up the stairs. Birkhoff felt his throat release when he heard the solid metal door at the top of the stairs close behind him.

A half-hour later Birkhoff heard the shriek of the metal door from the holding room. He heard a thump as Michael caught the door with his shoe before sliding through sideways. Lena hung limply in his arms. He jumped out of his chair and covered the distance across the room in a few short quick steps.

"Oh, God." He hissed as he brushed a bit of the hair away from Lena's face.

"I know." Michael said as he brushed past Birkhoff . He followed him to the couch and waited while he carefully laid her down on the torn leather couch. When Michael stepped back Birkhoff moved closer.

"Claire" he whispered a second later as Michael disappeared. "Oh, god, Claire I'm so sorry." He heard Michael's footsteps behind him as he approached again.

"Here, put this under her head" He said as he handed Birkhoff a towel "She coughed up some blood before." Birkhoff took the towel and gently lifted Claire's head and situated it between her and the couch. Birkhoff took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"I need something… to… to clean her face." He finally stammered and Michael was already prepared, he held out a warm washcloth to Birkhoff and stepped away. Birkhoff started to gently dab at the blood caked onto her forehead.

As he worked he heard Michael's phone beep somewhere in the background. He was vaguely aware of Michael's movements in and out of the room. But his focus was on Claire, and the fact that he'd had her on the couch with him for awhile and she had yet to open her eyes. She moved slightly every few minutes and she let out little whines of pain with every move. She turned her head slightly toward the washcloth at one point but Birkhoff didn't know if she meant too.

Suddenly without warning she coughed hard and blood spilled out of her mouth. "Oh, Shit." He swore loudly as he fumbled to grab the towel on the couch to catch some of the blood. He saw he eyes open just a fraction, "C—" He caught himself he didn't know where Michael was and "Claire" was not the name that would come up on facial recognition. "Lena, are you awake?" He said slowly. He saw her eyes open just a bit further. "That's it, open your eyes, come one." He tried to coach her but they didn't open further. Her eyes were glossy and unfocused and he didn't know if she could hear him or understand him at all. He couldn't see him but he knew Michael was close, within an earshot. "Lena, can you show me where it hurts?" She winced slightly and her eyes began to close again. "We have to do something!" He shouted behind him and Michael appeared at the doorway.

He saw him roll his eyes before he said anything. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help her!" Birkhoff shouted.

Michael shook his head dismissively at Birkhoff and walked across the room toward the computer station.

"Look at her!" Birkhoff shouted as he stood up. "Watch her breathing, she's slipping in and out of consciousness, and she's so pale, she's lost too much blood!" Birkhoff didn't wait for a response before he started shouting again. Michael was seated at the computers with his back turned to both Birkhoff and Claire. Birkhoff could tell he was close to washing his hands of the situation entirely. He couldn't let him. "She needs a doctor!" He exploded.

"Amanda doesn't have one in the area." He said calmly, it barely registered to Birkhoff that Michael had already made a call on the girls behalf.

"Then she needs to go to a hospital."

"You know we can't do that" Michael said as he typed away on the computer.

"No!" Birkhoff hissed. "What I know is that I don't want this innocent kid dying in front of me!" He growled as he crossed the room and grabbed the back of Michael's chair to turn him around. "There's a reason I hide behind a computer, I can't handle this." Birkhoff confessed.

"She is certainly not innocent, Birkhoff." Michael answered.

"Yeah well, she had a chance to kill me, she didn't and she had a chance to kill you, twice! In our line of work she's a F-ing saint. And here you are, killing her."

Michael looked at him questioningly, Birkhoff knew he'd said too much, he shouldn't know those things and as far as Division knew, he'd never met her and she'd never had a chance to kill him. "You know what Percy would say about your little tantrum here?" Michael said finally.

"Don't threaten to rat me out for this, we both know you're bluffing. You're not going to tell Percy."

"I didn't kill her, Roan did the beating, not me and not on my orders." He said realizing that changing the subject would not work to divert Birkhoff.

"You are just as guilty if you let her die on this couch." He spat. Michael's eyes narrowed but he didn't respond. "Is there a kill order on her?" He asked. Michael lowered his gaze until it fell on the figure laying on the couch. "Then tell me why are we carrying out a hit?"

"We're not." He said finally.

Thanks for reading! If you want this chapter from Claire/Lena's perspective check out the very first chapter!