Confusion was evident on his face. He clearly didn't know what to think of the situation.

It was understandable, I was just coming to terms with it myself.

He lifted both of his hands to cup my cheeks. I gasped at the feel of his hands. The feelings that I had buried, the feelings that I hadn't allowed myself to feel for two years came flooding back, washing over my skin like one of Michael's old shirts.

It was cheesy and cliché, but it was like everything was suddenly brighter, time had stopped and it was just me and him, standing in the doorway of an overpriced, Spanish hotel.

"We should get inside, I'll explain everything, Michael."

I broke eye contact with him them, took his hand and led him inside. We walked past the door to the bedroom where de Luna was "asleep" on the bed and Adams was working on hacking into de Luna's laptop. I led him over to the couch in the living room of the hotel suite. Only when we were sitting did I let go of his hand, and it was then that I started fidgeting with my dress. I had fantasized about seeing Michael every day for these last two year, planned out what I would say to him if I ever saw him again, and now, when he was sitting right in front of me, my mouth had dried up and I didn't know what to say.


"I thought I would never see you again."

His words made me look up.

"I thought I would never see you again, and if I ever did see you again it would be behind a foggy glass wall speaking to you from a phone that smells like beer and you wearing an orange jump suit.

He wasn't looking at me now. His face no longer looked confused but had hardened and his eyes had taken on a sharp edge.

"And when I finally do see you, you are dressed in a thousand dollar dress on the arms of a despicable excuse for a man, whom I later come to assume is your mark, and you are betting on how long it takes me to come to your rescue! Fiona, where the hell have you been?! What is going on!?"

He was shaking, he was obviously angry, and truthfully he had every right to be. I didn't know where to start.

"Fiona, Michael, we have to go. I have the information and the extraction team is on the way. They'll be at the safe house in an hour."

Michael and I turned to look at Agent Adams. He was dressed in an unassuming tight fitting black t-shirt and dark washed jeans. In his time in Spain he had allowed the stubble on his chin to grow out a bit giving him a ruggedly handsome appearance. He put the jump drive with all of de Luna's information in his pocket and looked at his watch. He looked completely unperturbed by the situation in front of him.

I stood up then and looked at Michael still sitting on the couch.

"Please come with me, I promise I'll tell you everything"

I was so scared in that instance. Scared that he'd say no, that he would walk out on me. I knew he was mad at me but I needed him to understand. I pleaded with my eyes.

He looked back at me with his closed off Michael Westen intensity. He stood up slowly but never took his eyes off me. He still towered over me, even when I was in my four inch heels. I had never been intimidated by Michael but I was sure if he walked out on me now my heart would break right there in that hotel suite.

His frown lifted just a fraction after what I could only assume was a moment of torturous indecision. Adams must have noticed the miniscule movement as well because it was only after Michael had seemingly made his decision to come that Adams was gathering our supplies and making towards the door.

I let out the breath that I had been holding as Michael followed Adams out the door, towards the waiting car that would take us to the safehouse.

Authors (terrified) note: So, it seems that I haven't updated in a VERY long time, and while this is a terrible form of an apology, I do promise that I haven't given up on this story. I'll also make a (tentative) promise to have this finished before the end of the season.