Stayed home today, not feeling well, and this idea just popped into my head. Six hours later, I've posted it for your enjoyment.
He's Not Himself
By WritePassion
"Michael!" Fiona screamed his name as he fell backwards over the railing. If only she'd been a little faster, she would have been there in time. She could have kept him from falling. The thumping of feet behind her caught her attention, along with gunfire. She watched helplessly as Sam ran past her, firing on the man who caused this tragedy. His target bucked with each bullet that pierced his body, and yet he raised his gun to attempt to shoot at Sam.
Sam was like a crazed man as he closed the distance between himself and Anson, and a second later he threw his entire weight into the man. Anson had a little fight left in him and he tried to get Sam off balance to throw him over the edge to join Michael down below. But Sam's anger fueled an almost superhuman strength. Fiona took a few steps forward, unable to believe what she was seeing as Anson rolled over the railing, grabbed Sam's shirt, and took him over the edge with him.
"Noooooo!" She ran to the edge and looked over the precipice. Michael lay on the asphalt three stories below, and Anson's body wasn't far from his lying at a strange angle. But Sam...she heard a grunt and looked down. His hand was curled around the rail, but it was slipping. "Sam! Hang on, I've got you!"
"No, Fi, just...just get help." He grasped the rail with his right hand so his position was less tenuous, but he still needed assistance.
"Help is here," Jesse exclaimed as he suddenly appeared beside Fiona.
"What...took you so long," she huffed as she pulled on Sam's arm to keep him from falling.
Jesse leaned over, grabbed the back of Sam's shirt, and hauled him up to where Sam could wrap his arms over the rail and pull himself up. "I was taking out Anson's accomplice. Sorry, but he was a big dude!" He patted Sam's back as he settled his feet on the rooftop. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah, just great." He leaned over, picked up his gun and stuffed it into his belt. "Let's go check on Mike."
They ran down the stairs as quickly as their feet would carry them and came out to the empty parking lot behind the building. Sam and Jesse reached Michael first and knelt on each side of his body with worried expressions burned into their faces. "He's got a pulse. That's a good sign," Sam remarked as he checked him over. "Nothing broken that I can tell. It's a freakin' miracle." A small groan came out of Michael and they turned their full attention on him. "Hey Mikey, come on, man. Wake up. Let us know you're okay."
Michael's eyes slowly opened and he blinked against the bright sunlight streaming down into his face. Fiona moved her body so it blocked it at the same time that Michael raised his hand. "Thanks," he said.
"You're welcome, Michael. Are you okay? Do you remember what happened?"
He looked around carefully, wincing at the pain in his head. "Michael? Which one of you guys is Michael?"
"Oh come on, Mike, don't play games with us," Sam chided him as he glanced at Fiona.
"Who do you think I am?" Michael asked blankly.
"You're Michael Westen," Jesse replied, anxiety creeping into his response. "Who do you think you are?"
"My name's..." He glanced at Sam, and a spark of recognition seemed to fill his eyes. "I'm Chuck. Chuck Finley."
"Oh come on, Mike! You know that's my alias! Stop kidding around here, brother!"
"I'm not kidding." Michael's voice gained strength as he confidently repeated, "My name is Chuck Finley! Why would I kid about that? Why do you keep calling me Mike?" He sat up too quickly, and his eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness. Sam and Jesse stopped him from falling back to the asphalt.
"This is bad, Sam. Real bad."
"I know. As much as I hate to say it, we've gotta get him to the hospital." Between him and Jesse, they were able to put Michael in the back of the Charger. "Fi, are you coming with, or taking your car? Look, I know you want to stay with Mike, but it might be dangerous leaving your car here."
"Yes, you're right." She gave Michael a worried glance before turning to her vehicle.
"I better go with her, Sam. She won't show it, but she's shaken up right now."
"With good reason. Yeah, go ahead, Jesse. Mike'll probably be out for awhile."
Sam drove Michael to the hospital, obeying all the traffic laws within a hair's breadth, trying to get him there fast without creating any unwanted attention. They were almost there when he heard him stir in the back.
"Hey Mike, it's okay. We're almost to the hospital." Suddenly, he felt the cool barrel of a gun pressed against his neck. As calmly as he could, Sam asked, "Mike, what are you doing?"
"It's Chuck, and don't you forget it."
"O...okay, Chuck. Why don't you put the gun down, huh? We're friends."
"I don't know you. You could be anybody. I don't know why you're so set on taking me to the hospital, there's nothin' wrong with me." He pressed the gun deeper into Sam's neck and ordered, "Pull over, right here."
"Mike...I mean, Chuck, you're making a big mistake."
"I know what I'm doing."
Sam sighed deeply and parked in a spot. There was a park in front of them, and lots of people. He was afraid of what might happen next if Michael became upset enough to start shooting. "Okay, now what?"
Michael pushed the passenger seat forward, opened the door, and hopped out. "You stay here, and don't tell anybody you saw me. Clear? You talk..."
"Sam. My name is Sam." He turned off the car and got out, the vehicle a shield between them. "Now Chuck, why don't you just let me take you somewhere?"
"No, Sam. I've got a mission to take care of. Just stay here and don't follow me, or you'll wind up dead."
"M...Chuck, I'm more worried about you winding up dead!"
Michael turned away and spent a couple of seconds looking up and down the sidewalk, trying to determine which way to go. This gave Sam enough time to come around the car and take a flying leap at him, trying to close the distance quickly and tackle him to the ground. At this point he didn't care how much attention it got them. His main objective was keeping Mike from running off to God only knew where.
Even in his addled state, Michael's reflexes were good. He pulled out the gun, aimed, and fired at Sam before his friend could grab him. Sam's body hit the pavement hard and he lay unmoving. Heads turned at the report, and a bike cop a block away zeroed in on Michael.
"Oh crap," he whispered as his eyes widened and he turned on the ball of his foot. He ran for his life up the sidewalk, not knowing where he was going. He just knew he had to get away.
