Ok, so round two for the BN fanfictions—figured I would try again since the response was so awesome to OPF. This one was incredibly hard to write O_O. Even more so than Of Psychopaths and Flirting—so I apologize profusely in advance to the BN creators if Michael seems a little OOC. It takes place somewhere around "Good Intentions" = definitely before big, bad, evil dude gets off the plane.
**Oh, and let's just pretend that Gilory doesn't know that Michael was the one who killed Strickler--just for kicks, go with me guys**
Fact of the matter is: This situation that I threw him into is purely meant for fanfiction and would probably never actually happen to him as a character. Not to mention it involves some Mike x Fi, which they themselves stated, "We're not good at this." –You've been warned. So without further-ado, here it is people. Enjoy!
(And don't forget to pretend--trust me it will be worth it)
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. All characters and rights belong to Matt Nix and USA etc.
Michael POV
There will come a time in a spy's life when there are no more options. You have nowhere to run and no one to turn to. Your hand is forced and there is no choice but to give one last try. One last stand.
It was the creak of the stairs that caught my attention. The third step of the stair leading to the loft gives under added pressure. It's subtle and to the normal ear barely noticeable, but it sent my senses on high alert for an approaching figure. It was probably nothing; Sam for a status check or Fi barging in because she could. Not that I was expecting either of them, but in the past two years I had become accustomed to those two appearing out of thin air.
The knock was what threw me off, made the fine hairs stand on the back of my neck. Sam didn't knock, and Fiona… well Fi never let a door come between her and what she wanted.
I grabbed the SIG from the counter and made my way to the door. My steps trained and cautious while I waited for the familiar, "Hey Mikey!" that would prove that Sam was just being overly cordial for once. It never came. Instead I was met with another series of knocks and a soft, "Michael."
Fi. My guard lowered a notch as my mind registered the voice, tucking the gun at my back. I opened the door and my eyes widened at the sight.
Fiona stood directly in front of me, Gilroy at her back along with a man I had never seen—both had smiles on their faces. It was Fiona however, that unnerved me and made my blood run cold. The look on her face was one of sheer terror, one that I had only seen once before—years ago in Dublin—and as my eyes traveled along her frame I soon realized why. A large bullet-wound framed her left side, the blood trailing along her torso down to her jeans. Her breathing came in short gasps and if it weren't for Gilroy's hold on her, I didn't think she would be standing.
"Evening Michael," Gilroy started, cheery as ever.
I never took my eyes off Fi, but the expression on my face changed from one of shock and terror to one of sheer hatred. My jaw clenched and I had to force myself not to do anything rash.
"This is for you." He continued, roughly pitching Fiona forward. Even with my reflexes, I barely caught her. My stomach flipped as I felt the warm liquid from her wound seeping through my shirt at an alarming rate.
"Michael, I don't believe you have met Alik," Gilroy nodded to the giant on his left. "He was the one fortunate enough to get rid of Claude for me; naturally I had to bring him along."
The threat registered, but barely. I was too focused on Fi's ragged breathing to give the needed attention to Gilroy, let alone his bodyguard. I pressed a hand to Fi's midsection to try to staunch the blood flow, though I soon realized it would do little good. The jagged edges of the bullet hole clearly indicated an exit wound. The bastard shot her from behind.
I felt the familiar barrel of a M12 pressed into my side as Alik shouldered his way into the loft, effectively backing me into the corner between the stairs and the bed—Fi still clutched to my chest. Gilroy followed, kicking the door closed with his foot, a smirk plastered on his face.
It took all I had not to kill him where he stood.
"I've come across some disturbing information Michael." Gilroy started a leisurely stroll around the loft.
Whatever information he was implying, it did not take a covert operative to know that the odds were not in my favor.
"It has occurred to me that you left out some very important details when we first met," his eyes caught mine and a wolfish grin touched his lips. "Details such as the death of Tom Strickler… Did you know Michael that a certain Thomas O'Neil was charged with his death?" The grin widened as he took in my glare.
"Collateral Damage the police report called it—though it would seem it was anything but." He continued around the loft. "I did some digging and imagine my surprise when I find that none other than Michael Westen himself was the real culprit."
Gilroy stopped at the bed and turned toward me again. "Not that I mind—in all honesty you did me a favor. Having Strickler out of the way has made my dealings so much easier. But I am curious."
Of course he was.
"You see Westen, you are quite an enigma. A burned spy who, as it seems, would do anything to get his old job back. Yet, he keeps himself busy helping people. The saintly operative with a moral code," he gave a chuckle and I was amazed to feel Fi strain against me, her eyes meeting Gilroy's in a glare.
Gilroy wasn't done.
"Though I will admit you are incredibly good at what you do. I myself was fooled even, but you slipped up Michael." He eyed me pointedly and I knew what was coming. "Your otherwise pristine record was tarnished in the past month. Two bodies," he held up two fingers, "link to you. Though I admit Diego falls more on my shoulders, the incident with Strickler… that my friend was your doing.
Which brings back the curiosity; what could possibly push Michael Westen to break his infamous moral code?" His eyes roamed over to Fi and I felt her stiffen. My grip tightened. "The answer seems quite obvious now." He finished in a soft leer.
I had had enough. The arm that was hidden by Fiona's body slowly went to reach around my back for the SIG. But Fiona met me half way, her arm reaching to stop mine. I felt rather than saw her reach farther around my back, under my suit to where the SIG was tucked in my waistband. Her movement was hidden by my jacket and luckily neither adversary was focused on the barely-breathing woman in my arms.
I wasn't taking the chance though. "Give me one reason Gilroy, why I shouldn't kill you where you stand." My voice was low and threatening in an attempt to keep Gilroy's attention on me.
It worked.
"Oh, but Michael, I believe you are curious too," Gilroy hedged, inching closer to Fiona and I. "Why else would you disguise yourself as a rogue operative? You want to know what I am up to—do you not. What my master plan is? Or perhaps who my good Polish friend is that you were helping escape?"
My eyes widened fractionally in mock disbelief. "Yes Westen, I know all about your little snooping party. In fact, that's how Miss Glenanne came to join us tonight." Gilroy narrowed his eyes at Fi. "Pity it didn't work out." He reached for the gun at his side.
I felt Alik shift behind me and I knew we were almost out of time. "And how exactly was it supposed to work out?" I hedged. I felt Fi's hand grip the SIG and I shifted my weight to give her more leverage.
"Simple really," Gilroy quipped. "Use you to get my friend out of his little predicament. And of course the part where you wind up dead." He took another step forward, gun raised. "Though it looks like that part of the story will stay the same. Shame really, you were such a valuable asset."
The moment his trigger finger moved was the moment we acted. Wrenching the SIG from my back, Fi brought the gun to point in a blur of movement. I used the momentum to jam my elbow into Alik's abdomen with enough force to cause the M12 to drop from his grasp. A fist to his temple sent him to the ground as two shots rang out.
I watched Gilroy fall to the floor.
Not two seconds after, Fi started to follow, the SIG clattering to the ground.
Ummmm….yah. So I had some serious trouble ending this—I still can't decide if I want it to be a TwoShot or not. The reason I didn't continue is because it would involve some serious Mike x Fi crisis/fluff and in all honesty these two characters aren't really made for hard-core fluff. What do you guys think?
Oh, and a couple for the record:
1) I love Fi's character, so I would never intentionally kill her off…would I?
2) I know the whole "Fi as leverage" thing is redundant and she is definitely NOT a damsel-in-distress character, but I needed something that would really piss Michael off…this is a Gilroy death fic after all.
3) This was definitely a fic focusing on what would happen if Gilroy found out what Mike was up to. In my personal opinion he would probably either laugh, shoot Michael, or both...I went for the latter. Unfortunately the whole Strickler thing had to be tweaked in order for Gilroy to find out--it will most likely happen eventually, but I don't know if it will in Season 3--I jumped the gun so to speak :)
***Reviews would absolutely make my week—not to mention give me some direction to a possible ending?***
--Thanks for Reading--HV