"No Prescott in this building. How about yours?"

"Uh, not unless he's disguised as an eighty-year-old retiree." Sam sighed as he and Mike walked through the Del Mar Apartments' parking lot. Trying to check the building hadn't been easy, this wasn't a Mer friendly apartment complex. They couldn't legally keep him out of the building, but it didn't mean he didn't get side-eyed by a few of the more observant residents. "I mean, this little manhunt could take a while, Mike."

He'd personally hoped it'd wrap up quick. It was just a stalking case, those were normally easy. Sometimes, it required a little properly applied force with a baseball bat to get the message home or, at worst, a little extra incentive to make them flee the state and never look back, but there was a routine to it.

"Better this than sitting in my mom's kitchen watching her smoke."

"You could try talking to her, Mikey."

Mike's jaw clenched.

"Or not." There was a lot to get passed between them, Sam got that. But he'd lived with both of them, they both wanted to try to make an effort, but they just couldn't get on the same foot about it. It honestly made him consider breaking out the old Panama traditions, but getting Mike and Maddie drunk to talk out their differences probably wouldn't be the best play considering the history with Frank.

"About tonight..."

"Don't worry about it, Mike. I got a showing lined up on an apartment. All goes well, I'll see if I can get everything signed tonight, and we won't have to flip for the guestroom." He wasn't planning on making Mike flip for it if things didn't go well. It was Mike's--and well, Nate's--old room he was staying in. Far as he was concerned, that overruled whatever meager claim he had on it.

And he didn't want to make him sleep on the couch with everything going on. It wasn't Mike's fault that Jason Bly had found a way to undercut the blackmail they had on him. The C.S.S. agent had found the weak, hair-gelled, link in their chain and was doing all he could to make Mike's life miserable. Kicking him out of the loft on a false claim of black mold wasn't the worst place he could've hit.

Mike stopped walking. "You're moving out of my mom's?"

"Yeah... you know I've been looking for a place." He hadn't brought it up in a while, but he'd thought Mike knew he was still looking for other arrangements. Besides, with the way Mike reacted to him initially moving in, he'd thought he'd be happy about it.

"Sam," Mike paused, "you're sure about this?"

"It's a Mer friendly area. The pictures I saw made it look good." He knew very well how misleading photos could be, but he was giving it the benefit of the doubt until he could see it with his own two eyes. Even if it wasn't as great as the listing implied, he might still take it. It was the only decent place and less than a two-hour drive away from Mike. Anywhere closer, and he'd be stuck with motels or government housing that he wasn't comfortable taking. There were Mers a hell of a lot worse off than him in Miami, he couldn't justify applying for it when he still had other options.

But it would be nice to have his own space. There was a whole storage unit full of crap he'd picked up over the years with no place to put it. The military dorms hadn't offered him a lot of room to make it his own, he'd had very little land space at the aquarium, and Maddie's... well, he'd brought out a few things at her insistence, but he wasn't going to let himself get too comfortable there. Maddie was great, but he figured he'd be wearing out his welcome sooner or later.

He always did.

It wasn't until he was actually on his way there, fingers absently tapping out the beat of the song playing on the radio as he waited at a red light, that doubts started creeping in. It was the best option, but he was going to have to find a route that didn't hit every red light if he wanted to keep backing Mike up. Living at Maddie's, he was only a short drive away if he was needed.

And, maybe, he didn't want to move out all that much. He liked Maddie. He enjoyed living with someone he got along with. Mers were social, they didn't live alone unless they had no choice or were migrating from one pod to another and were temporarily on their own.

His pod was...

His pod was Mike, Maddie, Nate, Beatriz... Fiona--not that he was ever telling her that. He wasn't sure when that had happened. He'd been without one for so long, relying on his unit to fill that gap, but they weren't family. They weren't his. He had his bond to Amanda, but that was different.

As he drove farther away, he swore he could feel the miles adding up. It was bad enough having Beatriz so far away, stuck relying on the rare email to know the kid was okay and, well, not staying out of trouble, he knew better than to even hope that, but wasn't getting herself too deep in it. It was the best he'd get, unless he wanted to swim down to Colombia and check on her in person.

Not an option. Not only would he be leaving Mike with just Fi for backup, but he wasn't sure he was exactly welcome back in the country after what had gone down. The U.S. military hadn't hesitated to place every ounce of blame for that fuckup on his head, court-martial or no.

His phone rang, drawing Sam from his thoughts as he hit another red light. He answered it. "Yeah, Mike?"

"I'm at Broward Private Trust trapped in a bank heist."

Sam closed his eyes.

"It's Prescott. He's a pro. His guys have killed the landlines and brought a cell jammer. Any cops, any resistance, and it gets bloody."

He tried to remember what alternative routes there were from here to avoid all those red lights. "Just tell me what you need, Mike."

"I need you and Fi to blast a door to the outside. Alley side wall, twenty feet in from the north."

"You got it, Mike. I'm on my way." He cast one last look in the direction of his not-to-be apartment. He'd find somewhere else.

Eventually.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"You could help."

"Didn't think you needed it." Sam casually peered around the side of the building. Far as he could tell, there'd be no reason for Prescott to have anyone patrolling the outside of the bank, far as he knew, no one had any idea what was going down. And since it was a private bank, the chances of someone just walking in off the street were in the negative. But that didn't remove the chance of someone deciding the take a shortcut only to see two people loitering suspiciously around the side.

He glanced back. Fi almost had the explosives placed.

Then it'd be back to the car, waiting for Mike to call.

If he called. There was always the chance their signal to blow the wall would come in some other, obvious form.

He admired Mikey's ability to improve on the spot. 'Course, without it, he'd probably be dead a hundred times over. Spy work rarely stuck to any formulated plan. Then again, his career hadn't exactly excelled at sticking to them either. He could follow orders better than Mike ever did, but he broke them on purpose just as much.

Unfortunately, that never went over that well in the Navy. Fortunately, they'd put too much time and effort into him to have ever done anything more severe than cut his rations or give him some bullshit assignment for most infractions.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

Fi had her head resting against the driver's side window as she fidgeted with her bracelet. He tried to ignore the sound of the beads clicking together as he tapped at the keypad of his cellphone. Trying to reschedule the showing though email wasn't his first choice--he'd rather call and talk it over, as much as he enjoyed his paperwork, emails were emotionless stabs of information. They didn't allow you a read on the person you were commutating with to figure out which strings you could pull on in the moment.

But he needed the line free for when Mike called back. Hanging up mid-conversion would go over worse than an impersonal email.

The bead clicking stopped. "What're you doing?"

"Grown-up stuff." He frowned as his thumb caught the wrong key. And considered just starting over with an apology for missing the showing and not rescheduling.

He was torn. Sam closed his eyes for a moment. Be close for Mike. And Maddie. Or be farther away but be out of their hair. Maddie would stop having to find new people for her bridge nights. He knew she was trying to make excuses about the constantly rotating group of people who never came back, but he knew it was because of him. Either they didn't want to step foot in a house with a Mer again or they'd just come to see what the rumors were about, if they were true.

When he opened his eyes it was to the back of Fi's head as she was leaning across to read what he'd typed so far. He shoved her back towards the driver's side.

"You're moving. Does Michael know yet?"

"Yes. Don't get your hopes up, I'm not going far."

"I wasn't." She paused. "He would miss you if you left."

Sam side-eyed her. She wasn't looking at him. "Just Mike, huh?"

Fi shrugged. "And Madeline."

It was almost enough to make him think maybe she'd miss him, but he wasn't delusional. The forgotten phone in his hands started ringing, and her head snapped around as he answered it.

"Mike, let's get this done. You ready to rock?"

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"Were you planning on telling me?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Maddie before going back to the dishes. Mike had stayed for dinner after everything had been wrapped up--they'd ended up having to blow up the getaway truck instead of the wall, and pull off an Operation Quicksilver bluff that had been flexing his acting skills, but they'd gotten everyone out alive. And since Bly had managed to get himself tried up in it as a hostage, he was willing to smooth things over with Mike, and get the loft marked as safe again. No flipping the for the guestroom tonight. "About what?

"Possibly moving out today."

"Were you planning on telling me?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Maddie before going back to the dishes. Mike had stayed for dinner after everything had been wrapped up--they'd ended up having to blow up the getaway truck instead of the wall, and pull off an Operation Quicksilver bluff that had been flexing his acting skills, but they'd gotten everyone out alive. And since Bly had managed to get himself tried up in it as a hostage, he was willing to smooth things over with Mike and get the loft marked as safe again. No flipping for the guestroom tonight. "About what?

"Possibly moving out today."

"If I got the apartment." He let his hands linger in the water as he slowly scrubbed a plate. Even if it was just his hands submerged and the water was soapy, there was a certain amount of enjoyment in the feeling of it. In some ways, he almost missed his tank. Sure, he was on display, but it was simpler. The Navy was simpler, there was routine and he always knew where he stood. "It wasn't a sure thing."

"Sam."

"Yeah?" He redrew from the water. Even if it wasn't spoken, he could hear the request for attention. He grabbed the towel to dry off as he turned to face her.

"If you want to leave, you can, but you are welcome here."

"I know, Maddie."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do." It just didn't seem like enough.