Author's Notes/Rants: So I had some REAL issues with the finale's pacing. Especially the Mike/Paige scene. It was wonderfully written, but whoever directed those actors and chose the camera shots to keep should be reprimanded harshly. I love the actor's but it felt like I was watching a table read. I saw what SHOULD have taken place chemistry wise, but it didn't pack the punch it needed so it came off awkward, rushed and unfulfilling. The fact that you could see the potential was twice as heartbreaking. The whole finale was kind of like that, (Who cares about Charlie's reaction to Jakes implying Mike and Paige are sleeping together camera guy?) but I digress...

Despite that, I'm going to write an outtake for the finale. Kind of like Smoke & Fire, two chapters, implied sex, but nothing seen, only I think two swear words. Much like the finale, I'm not in love with it, it's rushed, and kind of all over the place, but you give me shoddy worksmanship, I give it back.

The embers of the campfire are fading, but no one seems ready to go to bed. Even Jakes is still up, being surprisingly social, and even being nice to Johnny. It's only when the last log burns out and the cool night air starts to invade, that the group tiredly stands up and wanders back up to the house. Briggs carries a sleeping Charlie and Johnny is drowsily leans against Paige for support. Mike trails behind, watching the family he knows he has to leave tomorrow.

While everyone mutters sleepy goodnights and lethargically shuffle up the stairs to bed, Mike walks into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. He sips it quietly in the dark, contemplating. In each section of the room he sees a different memory like ghosts haunting him. Johnny making pancakes by the oven, Charlie chopping tomatoes for sauce on the counter, Briggs drinking rum in the corner, Jakes yelling at everyone to stay away from his shelf in the fridge, and Paige... He sees Paige everywhere. Kicking him under the table, hopping up on the counter, reaching for their secret spoon hiding spot, and that night she told him that she meant it when she said he was real. He sighs, puts his empty glass down, and walks out of the kitchen. He's made his decision.

He heads up the steps and instead of heading into his own room, he sneaks into Paige's, shutting the door silently behind him.

She's sitting at her desk, brushing her hair, preparing for bed. She looks up when he enters, but doesn't look too surprised.

"Hey, I just wanted a chance to talk to you. Alone." He says, leaning against her door and bracing himself for this conversation.

"Well you got me. What's up?" She asks.

Her question throws him off guard. They've both been drinking, he's leaving tomorrow and now he's in her bedroom at 3 am. She should know what he's here to talk about.

"I just, wanted to say thank you." Mike says awkwardly, "For the toast. It meant a lot."

"Well I meant it." Paige smiles at him kindly, but in a reserved, professional way. "You did good work here. You'll be hard to replace."

"I'll miss you too. I mean I'll miss everyone, but especially you." Mike says, staring at her intently. He hopes she understands what he's trying to say.

"Thanks. You're sweet." She replies. Not a bad response, but not the response Mike was hoping for.

There's an uncomfortable silence as he stands there, not sure what to say next.

"Well I think I'm going to get ready for bed…" She finally says, breaking the silence.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too." Mike says, not sure how to recover from her dismissal, "I was just thinking, maybe, since we're not technically roommates anymore, maybe we could get ready for the same bed…"

Mike cringes as he realizes how horribly awkward he sounds, and quickly crosses the room to where she is wanting to remedy it. Her face gives nothing away, and he continues to talk, feeling that every word is just making him sound worst.

"I mean, I know that sounds horrible, but what the hell? We're young, we're drunk, well I am at least. Your liver must be just made of steel..." Mike is babbling. Mike doesn't babble. What the hell is going on? "I'm leaving tomorrow, and what you said by the campfire, Paige… God, I'm screwing this up."

"Mike, you're drunk." She says, more to herself than to him. "How many did you have?"

"Not that drunk." He assures her. He knows she's giving him an out. He doesn't want it. "And you know how many I had, I saw you counting. Look, I know it might seem like I'm just drunk, and lonely, and lost, or whatever it is you think, but it's not that. Paige, I'm leaving tomorrow. This could be our last chance to be together. What do you have to lose?"

This is not at all how he saw this going. Not that he's really sure what he thought he was going to say. He assumed the words would just come to him in the moment. He came in here without a plan, which was entirely unlike him, and this is why. He cannot believe how desperate and needy he sounds, but despite that, he can tell she's actually thinking it over. Trying to recover, Mike puts both hands on her arms and leans in close.

"The whole house thinks we're doing it anyways." He says, as if this somehow explains his side of things.

"Mike, I had no idea you were such a romantic." Paige rolls her eyes, laughing at him sarcastically, "The whole house thinks so? If that's the case… Quick. Help me get my bra off."

"You're not even curious?" He asks.

"After that kiss the other week? Meh." Paige shrugs, "No, not so much."

"That's not fair." Mike says, "The house was falling apart and with Briggs being…. I can do better. I swear."

"Nope. One chance at a first kiss and you blew it." She grins teasingly, punching him playfully on the shoulder.

"Really? Was I that bad?" Mike groans. "Was it my breath? Cause I can go brush my teeth and we can try this again."

"Mike, your breath was fine." Paige assures him, "Look, I'll admit. For a minute there I felt something. I thought it was going to happen too. We just… we just have bad timing I guess."

"It just feels unfinished." Mike says lamely. Why can he never express himself properly to her? She knows him better than most, but somehow they seem to do their best communicating when he doesn't talk.

Paige stands on her tip toes, and kisses Mike chastely on the cheek. "Maybe it's better this way… Just a perfect summer full of possibilities." She whispers in his ear.

"Perfect summer? You call that a perfect summer?" Mike scoffs. He begins listing all the things that had happened in the short time he was here, "I got stabbed. I almost got Johnny killed. I was basically a drug dealer the whole time. I went to prison. I almost destroyed Graceland multiple times…"

"Alright, a pretty good summer then." Paige cuts him off, "We all survived, and I met you."

"Yeah, pretty damn close to perfect." Mike says, staring at her face tenderly.

"Goodnight Mike." Paige says quietly, feeling closure had finally been reached.

"Goodnight Paige." Mike sighs. He begins to let himself out, but stops in her doorway. No. It just can't end like this.

"You know, you were wrong earlier!" Mike accuses her, closing the door and turning back around to face her.

"I'm wrong?! About what?" Paige asks defensively, his words igniting her temper like a spark in the dark. Mike seems to just be digging himself deeper and deeper. He never could just let things go.

"You were wrong. Paige, you said you weren't my answer. You were." Mike walks decisively back over to her, standing in front of her, this time sure he's found the right words. She needs to at least know before he leaves. "The only way I knew Briggs was still here, was when you walked into the room. Because when you were sitting there, and I was trying to put myself in Briggs' shoes, I knew if anything ever happened to you . . . I could never just walk away."

She's so close. Staring up at him with those eyes, those gorgeous green eyes. Mike thinks he's never seen such beautiful eyes on any girl ever. Why couldn't he have said that instead? Why is it when he's around her he becomes completely unable to express anything properly? How could they have lived together for months and she still doesn't know how he feels about her? Everyone else seemed to know. Why couldn't he tell her?

Every cell in Mike's body wants to kiss her. If he leans in just a foot, he could kiss her right now, but the last time he kissed her she pulled away. No, he can't let himself kiss her again unless she kisses him first. Or comes at least ninety-five percent of the way. Fifty percent. Forty-five.

Paige stares up at him for another second, and Mike decides to hell with it. He's leaving tomorrow. He has to kiss her or he'll always regret it. He closes his eyes and is just about to lean in when she interrupts him.

"Dammit Mike…" She swears, pulling away. Mike's whole face falls. He was so close. "…Now I have to sleep with you."

"Wait. WHAT?"

"Now I have to sleep with you." Paige repeats casually, walking across the room towards her bed, kicking her sandals off and stretching as if she's preparing for some game of pickup football.

"You don't have to…" Mike hopes she doesn't feel pressured by him. That's not what he meant at all. Sure, he wants to, but he doesn't want her to do him any favors.

"Nope. I do. Mike, you can't say stuff like that and expect me not to sleep with you." Paige says, taking off her shirt and dropping it to the floor before pointing at him and ordering him, "Pants off. Let's go."

"Wait, are you serious?" Mike looks around.

"You got a problem with that?" She puts her hands on her hips and smirks at him.

"Fine." Mike drops his pants, trying to look more confident than he feels. He still can't tell if she's screwing with him or not. He stands there in his t-shirt and boxer-briefs, not quite sure what to do next. She's still standing about six feet away by the bed, looking at him expectantly.

"Come here." She finally says, after he makes no attempts to join her.

Mike cautiously crosses the room, trying to get a better read on the situation. If Johnny pops out of the closet and he finds out this is a practical joke, he's going to kill her.

"What? Do you want to leave your shirt on?" She taunts him, poking him in the chest. "I can turn off the lights if you're shy."

"Fine, you've made your point." Mike says, crossing his arms, convinced she's messing with him now. "Somehow I'm just not feeling it this moment."

Paige reaches up, putting her hand on his neck and pulls him down so her lips meet his. As they softly brush over his, Mike marvels at how after only one kiss it already feels like second nature. He brings his hands up to her face to tenderly return the kiss, tasting the toothpaste on her tongue. The kiss is unrushed and sweet, as if time seems to have stopped just for them. When she pulls away, her forehead still resting against his, she whispers, "Feeling it now?"

"Definitely." Mike says breathlessly, thankful that somehow they finally got here. "But better try that again just to be safe. Third time's the charm."

And with that, Mike wraps his arms around her waist and crushes her to his chest his mouth finding hers again. Her legs wrap around his waist as he lifts her off the ground. They kiss desperately, with a renewed passion. Months of sexual tension have built up to this night, and they are determined to break each other open and make use of every drop of it before a continent separates them. With Paige finally in his arms, Mike finally feels like he's home, and holds on like there's no tomorrow. Entangled together they fall onto her bed.