Sam Axe knocked on the door to Michael's loft before using his key to let himself in. "Mike?" he asked, peering in cautiously. Michael was standing over by the breakfast bar, eating a yogurt. "Hey Sam," he responded. "What are you doing here" he asked, puzzled. "Everything OK with Jesse and the girls?"

"Yeah" Sam said, entering. Michael reached into the fridge and pulled out two beers. He popped one and left it for Sam before opening one for himself. Sam nodded his thanks.

"What's up?" Michael asked.

"Nothing." Sam said. "Can't a guy just drop by for a beer with a friend?"

Michael wasn't buying it. "They can, but you don't," he said pointedly. "So I'll ask again, what's up?"

Sam decided to tell a partial truth. "Things were a little rough today," he said, watching Michael closely. "I wanted to see if you were OK." The whole truth was that Sam had seen the look in Michael's eyes each time he'd bullied his mother – he knew Michael wasn't OK.

Of course, Michael denied it. "I'm fine, Sam." he said, his voice cold.

"OK." Sam said, knowing that pushing Mike never got him anywhere, but waiting him out sometimes did. The two men drank in awkward silence for a several minutes.'

Surprisingly, it was Michael who broke first. "Look, Sam, I don't really want to talk about it." He then belied this statement by continuing. "You know a little bit about my Dad – I told you in Peru. I'll admit it wasn't pleasant revisiting that today, but it got the job done. I'm fine, my mother's fine, end of story."

"OK." Sam said again, and took another sip of his beer. He remembered that conversation in Peru from long ago. He and Mike had been part of a joint special forces team, fighting rebels in the jungle. After a bad op, the team had been sitting in a bar, drinking and swapping war stories, each man trying to outdo the others when one of the guys had asked Mike about the scar on this face. Michael had been quiet for a minute, and then said "Dear old Dad after an evening with Jack and Coke," and then calmly walked out of the bar.

Now, the silence stretched between the two friends, broken by the sound of Sam opening the fridge to pull out another beer. He offered one to Michael, who shook his head. Sam shrugged and popped his open, and sat back down. If his friend didn't want to talk, he figured he could be supportive just by being there.

But Michael spoke up again. "I think it bothers my Mom," he said "how easily I slipped into his shoes." Sam thought for a moment before responding. "I think maybe that bothered you, too," he said. "But you both know, you're not your Dad." He meant to be reassuring.

"Maybe not," Michael said casually "but after today, he and I have something in common. We've both pushed my Mom around."

"Hold on there Mike, that's not fair!" Sam protested immediately. "You didn't hit your Mom in anger! The two of you arranged it for the op, to save those girls. She TOLD you to do it."

Michael shook his head, and looked away from Sam. "I'm not talking about when I hit her." He said, in a tightly controlled voice. "That was bad, but it was part of the plan. After. Outside on the porch…." He stopped talking again.

"You wanted to protect her." Sam offered.

"You mean control her." Michael countered.

Sam couldn't deny there was an element of that, but he wouldn't let his friend go too far down that path. "You pulled yourself back Mikey." Sam said, firmly. "You never crossed the line."

"I didn't cross it," Michael agreed. "But I got real close, real quick."

"And now you're beating yourself up." Sam sighed. "You aren't your Dad, Mike." Sam repeated.

"Really?" Michael said sarcastically. "Remember when Natalie stole Barry's ledger?" Michael challenged Sam. "I slapped Fiona."

Sam remembered. "That was another op, Mike. You had a tactical reason. Maybe you got a little carried away," he allowed.

Michael looked up at Sam, pain in his eyes. "With my training, do you know what I could do to someone if I got carried away? The kind of damage I could inflict?"

Sam looked Michael straight in the eye. "Of course, I know." He said. "And I know you wouldn't let it get that far." He said with absolute certainty.

"You don't get it, Sam." Michael sighed. "I know myself, OK? I like to have control of the board. Especially when I'm protecting the people I care about. And if there's one thing I learned from Larry, it's what I'm capable of doing"

Sam shook his head. "No offense, but that's horseshit," he said, conversationally.

"Excuse me?" Michael said, taken aback."

Sam pointed at Michael with his beer. "You're not that guy, Mike. I get that you had it real bad as a kid, and it left you with things kinda messed up in your head. You've got love and fear and control all twisted up together. I get it." He took another sip of his beer. "But, the idea that the people you love need to be protected, from YOU? That's horseshit."

Michael was utterly unconvinced. "It's too much of a risk, Sam" he said.

"Well, then I guess Fiona better condo shop alone." Sam said, sadly. "No wonder she's mad at you…"

"What?" Michael said, clearly confused. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Really?" Sam said, incredulous. "You haven't figured that out yet? You know, for a smart guy, you're also kind of an idiot." Sam shook his head before continuing. "Why do you think she wants you involved in the condo shopping?"

"She values my opinion?" Michael replied, uncertainly.

"Well, yeah, but its way more than that," Sam said. "She's thinking of your future together. She wants the place she gets to be something you could think of as a home."

Michael looked at him skeptically.

"Look, if there's one thing Sammy knows, its women" he said, with confidence. "Fi might not be looking for white picket fences, but she's damn sure thinking about putting down roots with you. You've been together awhile now; it isn't that surprising."

"I honestly don't know what to say to that, Sam." Michael said, astonished by the turn the conversation had taken. "I can't believe that you, of all people, are pushing me towards Fiona."

"Well, I think she's crazier than a loon and will probably be the downfall of western society." Sam joked, before adding, gently. "But I know she loves you. And I think you love her."

Michael didn't deny it, which Sam took as confirmation.

"And I think she's good for you, Mike. She keeps you grounded." That was hard for Sam to admit, but true nonetheless. He continued. "You think you're protecting Fi by keeping her at arm's length, but you're kidding yourself, brother."

Michael wanted to deny it, but found that he couldn't.

"What do I do, Sam?" He asked.

"You make it work, or you make it end. For real end – no more stringing her along," Sam said sternly.

"I don't string her along…." Michael started to protest, but the look on Sam's face stopped him. "Well, I don't mean to," he finished. He scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't think I can let her go" he admitted finally.

Sam nodded. "Then I think you have your answer" he said.

For a few minutes, Michael was lost in thought as Sam finished up his beer. When he was done, Michael asked "You wanna come to the lumber yard with me?"

Sam looked confused. "Lumber yard."

"Yeah" Michael said "I think I need to build some shelves."

"Okaaayyyy…sure thing," Sam was still confused but shrugged it off as the two friends headed out into the Miami evening.