Michael woke up to a silent loft. Even if Sam was being quiet, there was no smell of brewing coffee, no breakfast cooking.

Since he'd moved in--crashing had stopped being an appropriate word for it six months ago--Sam had insisted on handling breakfast. It wasn't that Michael couldn't cook, but since Sam wasn't paying rent, he was set on earning his keep in other ways. It wasn't necessary but if Sam felt better about his situation, he wasn't going to press it.

Last night, Sam had left saying he was going to visit Veronica, but he'd always come home before the sun was up, and he wasn't supposed to be there when they opened...

Michael shot up in bed, a coil of fear taking root that Sam might've been caught leaving. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightside, hitting the first number on speed dial as he brought it to his ear.

It went to voicemail.

"Shit." He hung up and dialed the second one. The phone was clenched between his head and shoulder as he put on his pants. It too went to voicemail, but there was a reason Fi wasn't number one on his speed dial. "Sam didn't come home last night. Call me."

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Considering he couldn't exactly walk into the police station and ask if they'd arrested a Mer recently, Michael was limited to driving the Charger around and checking the places where Sam might be. If nothing else, his car wasn't parked on any of the streets surrounding Aquatica. It didn't mean it hadn't been there and had been towed since, but it was encouraging.

Eventually, driving around panned out as Sam was sitting outside at Carlito's.

"You didn't come home."

Sam glanced up at him. There were scratch marks across his left cheek, almost fully healed but they hadn't been there yesterday. "Good morning to you too, Mike." There was a glass of water in front of him.

"You didn't answer your phone."

"Forgot it in the Dodge."

Somehow, Michael doubted that. Sam's phone was waterproof and it was the one of the only things he owned that went with him everywhere, if he could help it. He sat down across from him. "What happened, Sam?"

"She broke up with me." He didn't sound sad, and Michael wondered how early into the night the breakup had happened that Sam had progressed to being resigned to it. "She's gonna be all alone, Mike."

Mers were social. Like humans, while some prefer to be alone, they still need connection with others. "What about the staff? The visitors?" He recalled Sam talking with them during his visits.

Sam shook his head. "She doesn't talk to 'em."

"Are they planning to house another Mer?" If human interaction was out, that was the obvious option. Though, it was assuming that the staff and director of the park cared enough to make sure she had social interaction. If they encouraged Sam to spend time with her, it was likely they were at least aware of her needs, but if they hadn't put anything new in place since his ban from the grounds, it didn't speak highly of their intentions to provide for them.

"It's not that simple, Mike." He hesitated. "Being on display like that... it's not somethin' you agree to unless you love being watched or you feel you got no other choice."

Sam was not opposed to being the center of attention, but, outside of jobs, Michael hadn't known him to seek it out. "Did you feel you had no other choice?" He knew he was having issues finding a place, and it wasn't for lack of trying, but the way Sam had talked about the park, he had seemed to view it as an easy gig--all perks and no downsides.

"It was the best option."

Which didn't confirm or deny anything.

"How long was Veronica there, alone?"

"Two, three years?"

"She'll be fine, Sam." It was, possibly, an empty platitude, but if she had managed that long without company, there was no reason to assume things would be different this time around. If it made Sam feel better, he'd go to the park and check on her in a few weeks. Or send Fi to, since she was unfamiliar to the staff, while they might connect him with Sam. He'd definitely been there enough times before Sam was kicked out to be recognized. If he was, he didn't know if that would cause a problem or not. "You ready to go home?"

Sam stared at him a moment before picking up his glass and finishing off the water. "Yeah, that sounds good, Mikey."

Sam was moping.

Michael would admit he was good at hiding it, but, no matter how good Sam's poker face was, the drinking was a tip off. It shouldn't take Sam an entire day to get through a single beer.

Having his new 'wrangler's threats to his family if he didn't toe the line only had one single upside, he could give Sam something to do and take his mind off Veronica. Even if it was just babysitting his mom.

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"Hey, Madeline."

"Sam." She eyed the duffle bag over his shoulder. "That all you brought?"

"I travel light."

She stepped back, letting Sam enter the house. "You remember where the guest room is?"

"Yeah."

"Good, go drop that off then."

By the time he'd done that, she had a beer out for him and waiting on the sofa, cigarette lit. As he settled in with the beer, she spoke, "I'm surprised it took you this long to ask."

"I didn't want to impose."

"So sleeping on my son's couch for a year wasn't imposing?"

Sam looked at his lap and the beer bottle in his hand. "Yeah, well, Mike insisted on me sticking around."

She wondered how much Michael was insisting on this too, but she held the question back. Whatever was going on, they didn't want her to know. As much as she wished Michael would trust her enough to be upfront about things, she wasn't ready to press and risk pushing further away. She'd done enough of that already.

"I just need to get outta his hair for a few days."

"You stay as long as you need to. It'll be nice to have someone around the house. God knows Michael doesn't come over unless it's an emergency." And she was in no rush to send Sam back to Michael's couch, she had sat on it before. The guest bedroom would be better for his back.

He smiled, face still angled down even as he looked at her. "Thanks, Madeline."

She remembered the first time Michael had brought him around, even back then, Michael couldn't be bothered to stay for more than a minute. Madeline had still never gotten the story of why they were in Miami beyond 'layover' and the general implication that Sam had pressed him into stopping to say hi before they were off again. Looking back on it, she was almost positive they'd been scoping out the house and waiting for Frank to leave.

But that had been the first time she'd seen her son since he'd enlisted, and it had endeared her slightly towards Michael's handsome 'army friend,' with his nervous smile and polite 'Mrs. Westen's--she'd nipped that in the bud before they'd left. She'd wished she'd known he was Miami before Michael was burned, maybe she could've gotten some answers about what her son had been up to.

There was no way for her to have known, Sam hadn't contacted her and, even if she'd had some idea he was around, she wouldn't have gone looking for him at Aquatica or anywhere similar. It wasn't like Michael had introduced Sam as anything other than a friend.

Sam was rolling the beer bottle between his palms. He hadn't drunk from it yet, Michael hadn't been lying about him moping.

"I have an aqua aerobics class this evening. Want to come with me?"

His eyes widened slightly, tongue darting out briefly--that nervousness she remembered and hadn't been able to pin down a cause for all those years ago. "Uh, yeah, I can drive you and hang out until you're ready to leave."

"No, Sam, do you want to come and participate?" Seeing the excuses coming, she added, "They won't mind. I've told them all about my son's Mer friend. The one he sends over to see me more often than he bothers to call."

"Mike's not that bad--"

"He's that bad." She tilted her head to the side, smiling knowingly. "Did he really want to talk to me this morning when you called?"

"Uh..."

"I didn't think so."

"Mad--" A knock on the door cut Sam off, and he was on his feet before she fully registered it.

She waved him off as she got up, noticing and ignoring the way his hand went towards his waistband. If she lifted the loose fitting Hawaiian shirt, she was sure there'd be a gun there. "I've got it, Sam."

"You sure?" There was another knock.

"It's my house. I'll answer my front door, thank you." She didn't need him scaring off the neighbors. Not that Sam was practically scary, they'd actually be more likely to flock to get a better look at him, the bunch of gossips.

It turned out to be Ricky, trying to get in touch with Michael, and in a few minutes, after explaining his older brother was Michael's childhood friend, Sam's on the phone and out of the house.

And she was left feeling cut out of the loop, again, of her son and his friend's lives. But, an idea was forming, that maybe there was a way to fix that, and make things a little better for Sam in the process.

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"Ossobuco--newest weapon in my arsenal." Sam grinned as set two of the plates on the table.

Michael sniffed it. "Not bad, Sam."

"I'm tellin' you, Mikey. Cooking shows, it's a whole new world of culinary experience." He took off the apron and tossed it on the counter before picking up his own plate. Since Mike refused to pay for cable, he'd been stuck with recipe books if he wanted to try something new.

Maddie had side dishes on the table by the time he came back to take his seat. "Sam's been helping out around the house."

Mike paused his eating, gaze flicking between them. "Yeah, he's good at that."

"He fixed that loose board in garage I asked you to take care of."

"I would've got to it, Ma."

Sam shoved a forkful of lamb in his mouth, maybe he should've excused himself from dinner. He could've come up with something that would've got him out of the Weston house for a few hours.

"I've invited him to stay here, until he can find a new place." She smiled. "That way, he has a real bed to sleep in. And you won't have to find future excuses for him to come babysit me."

Oh boy. Sam sunk down in his chair. He should've excused himself. He didn't need to look up to feel Mike's eyes on him.

"You told her?"

"I didn't say anything."

"He didn't have to, Michael. He kept his legs on the entire time he was here. He wouldn't do that if he wasn't staying on guard." She paused. "And he forgot to empty his pockets when I did his laundry."

That caught Sam's attention. "What I leave in there?"

"Bullets."

"Ah..."

"I heard them rattling around in the machine. I'll give them back to you after dinner."

It wasn't the worst, or most incriminating, thing he could've forgotten. He'd have to make they were properly died out. Put them on the side to use next time him, Fi and Mike went to the gun range rather than for use on a job where it turn into a life or death situation, just to be on the safe side. There was no reason for them not to fire, but he didn't want to risk lives over it.

"Mom, if we could get back to Sam staying here."

"Is that a problem, Mike?" If Mike didn't want him living here, he'd go back to the loft. But after sleeping in a bed for a few days, he wasn't looking forward to going back. The couch wasn't the worst place he'd ever slept, it was better than the cot Mike had got from otherwhere as an alternative--the couch was cushioned--but he wasn't as young as he used to be and the chance to not have to go back to it was too good to pass up. Not to mention, Maddie's house had air-conditioning.

Unless Mike wanted him to.

"No," Mike was looking at him like he didn't understand why Sam would want to be in the same house as Maddie for longer than necessary, knowing Mike and Maddie's relationship, he probably didn't, "but--"

"Michael, Sam is staying. End of story."