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“What are you doing with that?” Fiona whispered. She’d just put a sick Charlie to bed and had come out to the living room to see Michael had removed one of the loose stones in the fireplace of their new home and was going through the small, wooden box’s contents that were supposed to be safely inside their slick.
Michael placed the three passports he was holding back in the box, on top of the cash and other things. “I just needed to check that they were all there.”
Fiona knelt down next to him and slung one of her arms around his shoulder, placing her cheek against his.
She put the lid back on the box. “We’re here together. For a fresh start,” she said gently. “Nobody knows we’re here.”
Michael pushed the box away from them and turned to take her into his arms. “Fresh start,” he murmured against her lips.
Then she was shoving him to the floor roughly.
“Fi, we’re-I’m too old for sex on the floor,” he moaned. But he didn't do much else to discourage her from continuing.
“Mommy?” a sleepy Charlie called out from the hallway entrance, rubbing one fist against his tired eyes.
“Saved by a sick child,” Fiona said, nipping at Michael’s ear lobe before shoving off of him and rushing over to their son who was having issues getting to sleep with his slight fever.
“How about a nice glass of warm milk baby?”
As Fiona attended their son, Michael slipped the to-go box back in its slick in the fireplace. One of the first things he’d done upon moving here had been to dig out the mortar around a stone halfway up the fireplace and make a small space inside for storing their documents in case they’d need to run again.
Thanks to Jesse and Sam, the CIA believed that all the Westens and Fiona Glenanne were dead. But should the truth ever be revealed…well they both prayed that would never happen.
Michael placed the stone back in place and headed to the kitchen to help with Charlie.
He ruffled Charlie’s hair and sat down next to him at the table while Fiona warmed up some milk for him on the stove.
Michael’s heart tugged at how much Charlie looked like Nate, even at this young age.
He’ll get the fresh start Nate and I never got, he vowed.
“Yogurt?” Fi had put her wooden spoon down from stirring the milk and opened the fridge door.
Before Michael could answer, Charlie piped up, “I wanna yogurt!”
Fi laughed and grabbed two yogurts. “Well, at least his appetite is coming back.”
Michael pulled Charlie into his lap. “Okay bud, let’s have yogurt.”
Over his son’s hair, Michael smiled at Fiona who looked at her boys with such softness and steel.