Author's Note: Hello Reader, you are obviously here because you enjoyed The Hitman's Bodyguard as much as I did. (just a guess). I absolutely loved the film and thought that Ryan and Sam Jackson where splendid, and so were their characters. The chemistry was just jumping off the screen, so naturally, I had to write about these two. And here is the result... enjoy!
The Bodyguard's Hitman
Amelia drifted slowly awake, the sunlight streaming in from the window gently caressing her face. She opened her eyes and blinked heavily as they adjusted to the sudden burst of sunlight. She turned over in the bed, putting her back to the window and shielding her eyes from the sun. She smiled when she saw the man sleeping peacefully next to her. It was a very rare occasion to see Michael without his eyebrows furrowed in complete concentration or focus. He constantly had his game face on and it was almost euphoric when Amelia could make him smile. Before…
She pushed the thought out of her mind. Yes, Michael had been a child, but somehow she always put a bit of the blame of their failed relationship on herself. And how could she not when Michael had been so genuinely hurt by her. As euphoric as his smile was when she saw him with nothing but pain in his eyes it damn near killed her.
But they were forgetting about that. Finally. They wiped the slate clean. And as she stared down at him she could feel the euphoria slowly ebbing its way into her heart once more. Not being able to help herself, she reached out and stroked his hair gently, being careful to mind the still healing cuts on his forehead.
Michael stirred slightly and Amelia pulled her hand back.
"Sorry..." she said softly, "did I wake you?"
"Nah…" He said, eyes drifting closed again as his arm lightly wrapped around his side. He grimaced slightly. "I've been awake basically all night."
Amelia pushed herself up onto her elbow, looking down at Michael, a concerned look on her face. He had in fact only been three and a half weeks since he'd been shot, and a few days since he'd been released from the hospital. She practically forced him to stay with her, not wanting to let him out of her sight again. That and she knew he'd been basically living out of his car.
"Did you take something… for the pain?" She asked.
"Yeah… I'll have to wait for another…" He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, "six hours."
The slight movement made him grimace again and Amelia bit back a smile.
"You know…" She said, letting her fingers draw light circles on his chest. "Getting shot made you much sexier."
Michael laughed softly… euphorically, then put his hand over her's and held it affectionately.
"Really?" he said slyly, kissing her hand gently, "I should have gotten shot sooner."
He grabbed her head gently with his other hand and pulled her in for a kiss since it was too difficult and painful for him to move otherwise. They stayed there for a bit, the kisses got better and better until Amelia reluctantly had to pull away.
"I have to go to work." She said sadly.
"Nah C'mon… stay…" Michael tried to pull her in again. She placed a hand on his chest.
"If I don't go to work who's going to pay my rent?" She asked with mock authority.
"Maybe I could…" Michael said, kissing her hand again. Amelia tried to fight back the smile spreading on her face.
"Did you just ask to move in?" she asked, surprised.
"Maybe," Michael replied innocently.
"Michel Bryce you sneaky son of a –"
"Ooow"
She went to kiss him again, almost rolling on top of him, which warranted the cry of pain.
"Sorry…" she said sincerely. "I really do have to go to work."
"Alright…" he said, pushing himself up with a pained groan
"Uh-unh, you're staying in bed..." she said, easily pushing him back down, "The doctor said you need to rest."
"Can't you stay in bed with me?" He said. She smiled.
"I have to go to work." She leant down and gave him another kiss before pushing herself off the bed and getting dressed. "Besides, I still need to finalize that deal to get you back to elite status. If you want me to do that you have to let me go to work."
He grabbed her wrist as she walked by and pulled her close again.
"I could honestly care less about my job right now." He said, the look in his eyes telling her he was never going to let go of her again, metaphorically speaking. She smiled again, holding back a small laugh.
"You really have changed." She leant down again and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "But I still have to go to work and you still need to get some rest."
"Okay..." he said reluctantly giving her back her hand. "Only because you insisted…" He said, his eyes already drifting closed again.
"Call me if you need anything. But not if you're just going to whine." She said, pulling on her jacket and heading out. She paused at the door and turned back to the man lying in her bed.
"Je t'aime." She said quietly.
"Je t'aime aussi." He slurred back, already half asleep.
Amelia smiled and reluctantly backed out of the bedroom.
-*{HITMAN'S BODYGUARD}*-
Michael awoke the second time to a loud knocking at the door. It took until the second set of knocks hit the door for him to open his eyes. He slowly and gingerly pushed himself up out of bed until he was sitting with his legs hanging off the side. He took a deep breath, trying to mentally soothe the pain in his side. Just getting himself out of bed took maximum effort. Upon the third set of knocks, he grabbed his crutches, which were leaning against the nightstand, and began his long, hobbling trek to the apartment door.
By the time he reached the living room the knocking at the door intensified. Michael rolled his eyes, not bothering to change his pace.
"I'm coming!" he called out, annoyed. Once he made it to the door, he leant close and looked through the peephole. A big blond man in a postal uniform stood on the other side, holding a small package. He didn't seem threatening, but Michael was pretty sure Amelia hadn't ordered anything off Amazon recently. He opened the door awkwardly, every movement made increasingly difficult by the crutches.
"Hello, can I help you?" he asked the man tiredly.
"Yes… I have a package for a Michael Bryce…" the man said, with a trace of an accent, maybe Russian.
Michael's first thought was I didn't order anything. But then the fog started to clear from his mind.
"Sorry… there's no Michael Bryce living here." He said, starting to close the door.
"Wait!" The man lunged forward and put his hand on the door, holding it open. He looked right into Michael's eyes with a heavy gaze. "Are you sure? Because this is the address I was given."
Michael broke eye contact long enough to see the gun on the man's side, no longer hidden by his jacket.
Ah shit.
The man dropped the package, quickly drew his weapon and pointed it at Michael. Michael dropped his crutches and, sliding quickly up against the door, he grabbed the man's wrist, shoving his arm against the doorframe. Then he quickly lifted the man's arm over his shoulder and slammed it down, ripping the gun from the other man's hands. Before he could turn around and use it, however, the man tackled him causing the gun to fly out of his hand and skidded away under the couch. The man threw Michael into the wall behind him, causing him to hit his head hard. An explosion of pain burst through the back of his head and erupted in his already wounded side. Michael couldn't help but cry out in pain. His cry was cut short when the man grabbed Michael by his throat.
Michael clawed at the man's hands, beating on his arms with all his might but they wouldn't budge. He threw a few punches at the man's head but they failed to land, the pain in his side and shortage of oxygen pulling out any strength he had left. Michael slowly started to sink down the wall, his fighting growing weaker while the man's grip around his throat was growing stronger. The room around him began to swim and he could hear his heartbeat throbbing through his head. Was this seriously how he was going to die?
Just before it all went dark, he heard a muffled shot, and the man released him, falling to the ground beside him. Michael took a huge gasp of air, renewing the pain in his side. He resorted to quicker shallower breaths, but the pain was still too overwhelming. He felt the world continue to blur around him and began to fall sideways onto the floor until a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and steadied him against the wall. And even though Michael couldn't focus on the person's face, he knew exactly who it was.
"Damn Bryce, you're off your game, son!" Kincaid said, looking down at the guy whose head he just exploded. "You sure you're ready for that 'Triple-A' bullshit again?"
"Fuck me…" was all Michael could manage, and with that he let himself slip away into the darkness.
-*{HITMAN'S BODYGUARD}*-
Michael woke up the third time to a gentle jostling, his face pressed up against a cool window and a dull ache in his head and side. At first, he was met with confusion. He had no clue where he was or how he got there. What followed next was panic, but he quickly shoved that down, turning on his 'cop brain' instead. He didn't open his eyes, not until he figured out if he was in potential danger. Given that he was in the seated position, with something strapped across his stomach and chest and the light jostling, Michael came to the conclusion that he was in a moving vehicle. But who was the driver and where was he being taken? Before he could deduce anything else he heard a voice come from his right.
"It's just me Bryce; you don't have to plot an escape route." Kincaid said snidely.
Michael sighed as his memory came flooding back. Amelia's apartment, the big Russian mailman… Kincaid. He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to face Kincaid. He was too tired to say anything snarky back so he just stared at the man. He had really hoped he would never see Kincaid again. Yet here he was a mere three and a half weeks since their last encounter.
Kincaid must've been surprised by Michael's silence because he took his eyes off the road to give him a quick once over. Was Michael seeing things or did Darius Kincaid just look seriously concerned about him? Michael pushed the thought out of his head, replacing it with his most pressing question.
"What's going on?" he mumbled, wincing as Kincaid hit a bump making his side scream. "And why aren't you in jail?" he finished through gritted teeth.
"Funny story…" Kincaid started, hitting another large bump. "I was in prison, minding my own business when this guy comes up to me in the yard and tries to shank me. Well, I beat his punk ass and before I shank him, he tells me he worked for Dukhovich, and how I made some very powerful people very angry by finishing the guy. He goes on to tell me there's guys on the outside who are out for revenge, how they're going to go after everyone I care about… yadda-yadda. So naturally, I gotta spring out."
"Naturally…" Michael replied, leaning his head back on the window.
"Exactly! So," Kincaid continued, not skipping a beat, "I spring out, I find Sonia and make sure she's safe. Turns out some guys already tried coming for her and she scared 'em off!"
Kincaid laughed loudly, causing Michael's headache to flare up.
"God, I love that woman." Kincaid continued, "So… my next move was finding you."
They came to a stop at a red light and Michael had trouble processing what he just heard. When he turned to Kincaid with confusion all over his face (he was too tired to hide his emotions right now), Kincaid was already looking at him.
"Did you just–? Does that mean–?" Michael couldn't find the words he was looking for. Luckily, Kincaid could.
"Yes Bryce, that means I care about you." Kincaid looked back at the road as the light turned green; "All 200 pounds of emotional stupidity… give or take" He finished under his breath. Michael obviously didn't hear him.
"So that guy back there?" Michael asked, pointing behind him even though he had no idea where he was. "That was…"
"One of Duckhovich's guys, yeah." Kincaid finished for him. "You're lucky they only sent one at a time, or we'd be screwed."
"Yeah…" Michael responded, barely processing what Kincaid said. And thank god Amelia wasn't there, he thought, she could've gotten seriously hurt…
"Amelia!" Michael exclaimed, bolting upright, then immediately regretting it. He bit back the pain. "Amelia, I gotta call Amelia…" He said, grimacing and clutching his side.
"Don't worry about that, I got it covered," Kincaid replied, shooting another worried glance at the man in the passenger seat. "I already told her what's up; she's meeting us at the safehouse."
"Safehouse…?" Michael mumbled quietly, his eyelids slowly closing.
"Yeah Bryce," Kincaid replied, "Someone's out there tryna kill you!"
Michael let out a little chuckle, eyes drifting all the way closed. Kincaid shot him another concerned look.
"I've never been the client before…" he said quietly.
Kincaid smirked and gave a small chuckle, "I've never really been the one protecting before…" He looked over at Bryce and even though he knew the man was already fast asleep, he added: "And I don't even need no 'Triple-A' bullshit!"
