Tony wasn't sure how many hours had passed — not many, he knew — but he woke suddenly to the feeling of Michelle's fists beating on his chest. She was screaming and thrashing around.

"Hey… hey…" He said, shaking her a little until she woke up. "Michelle, it's okay."

She took in a shuddering breath, looking into his eyes. "He took our baby." She muttered woefully. "He took our baby." She repeated.

"I know." He whispered, hating that he was unable to give her any comfort and that she'd had to suffer on her own before he got there. He shouldn't have left her. He didn't think he would ever forget how she looked right now.

Michelle burst into tears again, and he held her to his chest, quietly hushing her until she cried herself to sleep again. He eventually dozed off too, and before they knew it, the early hints of sunrise were starting to appear in the sky. Looking down at Michelle in his arms, he wondered whether she'd slept at all. Her eyes were closed, but she was still crying softly, her nails digging into his shoulders. He could see scratches all over his arms from when she'd grabbed onto him. He felt well enough to drive now, and hopefully, they wouldn't have to go too far, so both of them could get some proper sleep too. Gently, he placed his thumb under her chin and tilted her head up. With the other, he stroked her temple. Michelle blinked a few times before looking up at him.

"I'm going to start the car so we can get to another motel, okay?"

She nodded, letting him assist her in moving back to the passenger seat.

To their relief, they found another motel within half an hour. He parked the car, paid for a room under a new set of aliases, and started to carry their things in, surveying the place while he was at it. Once he was done, he picked up Michelle, just as he had before, and carried her over. She looked very pale and very tired; he didn't think she could make it up the stairs. He was grateful that the nurse had given her some comfortable clothes because it meant he could lay her down in bed right away. To his confusion, she sat up and tried to move towards their luggage. Before he could protest and ask her what she needed, she bent down by one of their suitcases. As he came over to her, he could see the two things she'd grabbed: a utility knife and a small teddy bear, the one thing for the baby they'd brought with them. Michelle walked back over to the bed, placing the knife under her pillow and hugging the bear to her chest as she laid down and pulled the covers over her.

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, tucking a hair behind her ear. "Just try to get some sleep, Michelle." He said softly.

Her eyes closed, and within a few minutes, Tony could hear her breathing deepen and slow down. He spent the rest of the day trying to settle in, still keeping his eye out on their surroundings outside. It was late in the afternoon by the time the pit in his stomach disappeared and allowed him to be hungry again. He remembered the doctor telling him that it was important for Michelle to keep her strength up with all the blood she'd lost. Tony walked back to the bed, bending down beside it. She was half awake, leaning into his touch when he gently caressed her cheek.

"You going to eat anything for me today?"

She shut her eyes again and shook her head, curling herself into a ball. He asked her again, but she whined in protest. Tony decided to make sandwiches for both of them, leaving hers in the small fridge in case she changed her mind later. As the sun set, he became aware of how desperately he needed sleep, so after a quick shower, he joined her under the covers. Michelle quickly shuffled over so he could envelop her in his arms again. He kissed the top of her head.

This went on for another few days. He'd lie in bed holding her most of the time, as though if he let go, she'd disappear too. But when he did get out of bed on occasion, he'd try to stay wary of their surroundings, not wanting to have to move again. While part of him yearned so desperately to see Michelle smile, hear her laugh again, and go back to a time when they were both happy, another part of him was just as tempted to surrender to the darkness, hold her, and let the world swallow them whole. He would open the curtains, somehow thinking, perhaps with delusion and remnant denial, that the light might help, but it didn't. He'd make her food to eat, but she'd refuse his offer nearly every time, and even if she didn't, she would eat very little, but she at least allowed him to press the lip of a glass of water to her lips. She didn't move from the bed; he had to wonder if she would even be able to stand without passing out. She had barely even spoken to him; she'd just nodded or shook her head when he'd tried to talk to her. She was wasting away, and he became cognisant of how terrified he was of losing her too. So, at some point, Tony knew he had to put an end to this.

He kneeled at the bed's edge, just as he had every other time.

"Sweetheart… talk to me," Tony begged weakly. "I would never make you do something you wouldn't want to, but you're all I have left. I can't lose you, please. I know everything seems hopeless, right now, but we can't give up. They can't take everything from us."

"They already have. We're sitting in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, scared for our lives." She finally said hoarsely. "We have no home. We have nobody to reach out to because, for all we know, they're in just as much danger as we are. The one thing that kept us going and gave us purpose is gone. We have nothing left."

"We have each other." He said, the hurt plain in his voice.

She let out a sob, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you hate me."

Tony gave her a bewildered, heartbroken look. "Michelle, why would you think that?"

"Because I killed our son." Her voice cracked. "Because if I had gotten to the gun in time, he wouldn't have kicked me."

He shook his head in disbelief, so horrified to think of her blaming herself, wishing he'd tried sooner instead of giving her the space he thought she'd needed.

"It's not your fault, Michelle. This could never be your fault."

She started crying, and he moved his face close to hers. He stroked her hair gently, feeling her hand touch the nape of his neck. He told her again and again that he loved her, that he was sorry, that it wasn't her fault, and that he would never, could never, resent her for it.

"If anything, this is my fault for not being there when they hurt you-"

"No, that's... that's not your fault. We made a judgement call and didn't think we were in any more danger than usual." She was right, but it wouldn't change how he felt, at least, not now. The fact that she was even talking to him was still a huge step and what mattered was helping her get through this.

"A-All I want you to do for me is try a little. I know I can't do anything to make it hurt less, but it would mean the world to me if you got out of bed today and ate something for me, please."

It took her a moment, but she eventually agreed, much to his relief.

As expected, she was unsteady on her feet, so he held her hand as they walked the short distance to the little table next to the kitchenette. He took out some food from the previous night and poured her a glass of water. She ate very slowly and didn't quite finish it, but Tony didn't care; it was better than nothing. Michelle said, very quietly, that she wanted to shower, and he was glad to help her. She had to lean against him a little as he washed her body and her hair, carefully minding the bruises that hadn't faded yet. He dried her hair with a towel, and she did her best to comb it despite the tremor in her hands. They then flicked through whatever was on TV, eventually settling on reruns of a sitcom they both liked, with her sitting between his legs, her head resting against his chest.

Tony was so happy that day. He was relieved that she had come back to him after feeling so disconnected from her. But the next morning, he was hit with the reality of how complex this situation was and how there would still be plenty of steps backwards for every step forward.

When Tony woke again, he noticed Michelle had moved from where she'd been nestled against him and was now on top of him. To both his surprise and confusion, she was kissing his neck and taking off her sweatshirt.

"Michelle…" He muttered.

Shifting lower, she started to work at taking his top off, and he realised what she was doing. Tony sat up and stopped her by cupping her cheeks with his hands. She had a glazed, exhausted look in her eyes, as though she wasn't even quite aware of what she was trying to do.

"Baby, you don't want this," Tony said gently.

Her expression changed into something of shame and tears welled in her eyes once again. She was shivering a little, and he grabbed a robe he'd left on the bed from his shower and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I-I thought we could try to forget. I'm sorry, I'm-" Michelle said woefully. "I just wanted to feel something."

"No, no, don't. You didn't know what you were doing." He sat up, holding her to him as she wept. "It's okay."

"It's not okay. None of this is okay, Tony."

He sighed, squeezing her tighter.

"I've been selfish."

"No, you haven't, Michelle. You're hurting-"

"But so are you!" She sniffled. "Not once have I asked you how you're doing, and I'm so sorry. He was your son too."

All this time, he'd been so focused on her, so worried, and trying so hard to give their situation hope that he hadn't realised what little processing he'd done on his own. When he looked up, he saw her concern; he saw how upset she was for both of them, and Tony realised that was what he needed to do. To stop pushing his pain down for her sake and let them be in pain together, let them grieve together, but, most importantly, let them heal together.

Their eyes met, and only then did he let himself cry the way he wanted to that night. She took him into her arms, making small circles with her hand over his back. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. They sat there for a while, allowing themselves to share this moment of vulnerability, agreeing not to hide things from each other and that there was no point in trying to carry the weight of their loss on their own. Bringing everything into the open made them feel a little bit better, like maybe their situation wasn't quite so hopeless after all. They'd been through so much, but they were alive and they had each other. That was all that mattered.

"We're going to get through this." He said, trying his damnedest to sound convicted but also to believe his own words. "Together, okay? I know it's hard. I know it hurts, and I know it hurts a thousand times more for you than it does for me, but we have to get through this. Otherwise… I don't know what's left for us."

"We will," Michelle affirmed, her voice sounding more optimistic than it had in a long time. "We... we don't have a choice." She took a breath, looking him in the eyes. "We're going to get through this. We have to."