A/N: So this is my first attempt at a crossover, written for the WA Locked Room Challenge.

It's a stand-alone one-shot, although it's vaguely set in the same world as all my other Outsiders fics. Given their backgrounds and that Mickey Donovan would only be a few years older than Tim Shepard (from their ages on the show and in the book), I thought it would be interesting to attempt to write Mickey as a young man, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

END OF THE LINE

"Are you okay, kid?"

At the sound of his voice I force my eyes open, wincing a little as a stabbing pain shoots through my forehead and across behind my eyes. Tentatively, I raise a hand to my face where I can still feel the warmth of my own blood on my skin, the metallic taste lingering against my teeth.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," I snap back, glaring over at the form crouched in front of me as vague recollections of Mickey being an ass, running his mouth and pissing everyone off instead of settling things, swiftly followed by me needing to get involved as two—no three—guys square up to us and begin laying into me, start to swim into my mind.

"Hey, I ain't the one who hit you, Tim, remember that."

"No," I counter, a string of questions forming in my mind that I need him to answer, "but it's all because I was dumb enough to be there with you that they did. Where are we, anyway? And what the hell is going on? How long was I out for?"

He grins at me as I take in our surroundings as best I can in the last remnants of the fading daylight. Seems the two of us are shut in some small store room, and I figure from the roar of the freight train rumbling past that we're somewhere inside one of them abandoned warehouse buildings not far from where that deal of his went south.

"Not long, a few minutes, maybe. It's a big misunderstanding is all, but it'll all work out fine, just you wait and see," he assures me, still grinning at me as I push myself up from the concrete floor, walk towards the door and try the handle.

"Yeah? If you're so sure about that then why are we locked in here?"

xxxxxx

Twenty-seven hours ago...

Leigh's chatting—absorbed in telling me some story about her day at work—when I glance up at the house, catch sight of the figure sat on the porch and pull up short, resting my hand on her arm so she stops too.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

"You know him?" I murmur.

Following my gaze, she shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

I'm about to step closer, find out exactly who the hell this guy thinks he is sitting here outside my home like he owns the place, when he gets to his feet and calls out a greeting to me.

"Jesus, kid, you haven't half grown. When d'you get so tall? Lucky you still look the spit of your old man, wouldn't hardly have recognised you otherwise."

Studying him, it feels like I'm on the back foot already, that I should know who he is, especially as it sounds like he's been waiting for me. Fair hair, leather jacket, gold chain. Not local, not with that accent, that's for sure. I'm about to ask exactly who he is, when it all comes rushing back to me—just at the same time as he opens his mouth and starts up talking again.

"It's me, Mickey. Mickey Donovan. You remember? We met a while back. I know it's been a few years but you gotta remember me, kid. Tell me you ain't forgot?"

"Yeah Mickey, I remember."

Isn't like I'm gonna forget that particular day, back in fifty-six. House filled with people all making out they gave a damn about Ma, about the three of us. Paying their respects to the old man when most of 'em would've crossed the street to avoid him when he was alive. Mickey and his old man amongst them, turning up out of the blue for the first time in years; him sitting next to me on the back steps with a smoke in one hand and a half-drunk beer in the other as he regaled my easily-impressed nine year old self with outrageous tales of our fathers' antics from back when they were young before dad got drafted and settled back here instead of going home; then moving on to even more elaborate stories of teenage gangs and street fights, his own life back in Boston. How he was something there, a real big shot; how I knew then and there that I would be too, that I was gonna be someone here, in Tulsa. Be more than my father ever was.

"So how come you're back in town? You're a hell of a long way from home, Mickey."

He grins at me, shrugs. "Been down this part of the world setting up a little business opportunity, you know how it is."

Yeah, I figure I do, 'cause I'm pretty sure him turning up here ain't for no social call, or for my benefit, either. I reckon any business that's worth Mickey Donovan dragging his ass half way across the country for isn't going to be anything straightforward—or legal.

"So how d'you find me?"

"Called round to your Ma's place. Her old man's a piece of work, ain't he? Lucky for me your brother showed up, was good enough to point me in the right direction. He seems a good kid." And then he starts up grinning, turns his attention away from me and onto Leigh. "Well I guess I got to introduce myself being the boy here has got no manners. Name's Mickey Donovan, pleasure to meet you, sweetheart." And then he takes a step closer, leans in and kisses her cheek, while I silently curse Curly for dropping me into this.

"Hi, I'm Leigh," she replies, glancing between the two of us.

He don't bother to move though, just stays there, a little too close for my liking, that over-friendly smile still plastered all over his smug fucking face as he makes no effort to hide the fact he's looking her up and down.

"Well I guess you do take after the Donovan side of the family after all, kid, finding yourself a nice girl. Guess you must be doing something right? She sure is a doll, ain't she?"

"What, wait, so you two are related?" Leigh asks, shooting me a puzzled look.

"Yeah, sweetheart, we're cousins," he says as he watches me. "Tim never told you about the family then?"

"Second cousins," I snap and I find myself moving a little closer to Leigh as I glare back at him, "and what's to tell? Ain't like we were ever close. So how about you tell me what you really want, Mickey?" Really don't need him stirring up trouble. Not when things are finally going good for the pair of us.

"C'mon, Tim. No need to be like that. Just figured I'd come visit since I was in town."

"Try again. We don't hear a word from any of you in twelve years and you turn up on my doorstep now? You're not here to catch up on old times, 'cause we met what, two, three times maybe, when we were kids? We barely even know each other, so why don't you cut the crap and tell me what it is you're really after?"

He shrugs at me. "Turns out I need a little help with something. So d'you reckon I could come on in and talk it over with you?"

"No thanks, Mickey, I ain't interested. Enjoy the rest your stay and all."

Stepping past him, I unlock the door, usher Leigh inside.

"What, so that's it? I thought this is what family's supposed to do? Help each other out?"

"Yeah, 'cause you all did so much for us. Didn't see none of you sticking around or offering to help us out any after the old man died."

I go to follow her, ready to slam the door in his face, but before I get the chance he grabs a hold of my arm, tries a different approach.

"Look, I get it. You don't want to talk business in front the lady. I'm staying at a motel down town, across from the bus station, but I'm aiming to be in the bar next door tonight—so why not come meet me for a beer later, hear me out at least? I'm desperate, kid, ain't no one else I can go to with this, no one I can trust in this town."

xxxxxx

"So you gonna tell me what the hell you've got me into, Mickey? Without leaving nothing out this time?"

He shrugs, laughs a little. "What can I say? Guess things didn't pan out quite to my advantage yet, kid. Quit worrying though, it's nothing I didn't expect."

"Nothing you didn't expect? How come you didn't say anything earlier if you knew there was some chance it'd end up going bad? You told me it was a straightforward discussion, a business meeting. Not some dispute over how much you were willing to pay them assholes."

"'Cause I knew you wouldn't have come along otherwise."

His nonchalance, his total apparent indifference to the fact things couldn't exactly be much worse for the pair of us right now, tips me over the edge and I find myself launching myself at him, throwing wild punches. Only I guess my earlier beating has taken its toll 'cause it don't take too long for him to have me pinned against the wall.

"This ain't funny, Mick. When you've cleared off back to Boston, then I'm the one who's still living here, watching my back, waiting for someone to come after me and my family."

"Jesus, kid, calm down, won't you? You ain't the only one with family to protect you know. You think I want them going after Mary or my boys? If either of us are gonna get out of this then you need to keep your head and do what I say."

"Really? You expect me to trust you after getting me into this damn mess in the first place?"

"Yeah, well, I reckon the only chance either of us has of making it is if we work together on getting out of here, don't you?"

Shrugging him off, I make myself count to ten in my head, let my anger subside, then turn to face him. "Yeah, alright. So how do you suppose we do that then?"

xxxxxx

Twenty-three hours ago...

Soon as I get through the door I spot him easy enough despite the crowds in the bar; some girl on his knee, a row of empty glasses already littering the table.

"Tim, over here!" he calls out, before signalling to the bartender for more drinks. Seems there's nothing quiet, nothing subtle about the guy, and despite my better judgement I cross the room. Remind myself there ain't no harm hearing in him out, that I don't have to get myself involved or agree to nothing I don't want to.

"Mickey." I sit opposite him, frowning. "So who's your friend? I thought you said you had business you wanted to discuss."

"Yeah, yeah. Can't blame a guy for having a little fun while he's away from home now, can you?" He kisses the broad, whispers something to her which makes her giggle, before she heads off across to sit at the bar next to some other girl, his eyes on her as she wanders away. "Nice looking girl ain't she, Tim? She's got a friend there too, now you're here we could make a party of it."

"Unbelievable," I mutter, getting to my feet and leaning my hands on the table. "If you got something to say, then damn well get on with it. Otherwise I'm out of here."

"Okay, okay. Now sit down, relax, have a drink and we'll catch up some first. Don't be so damn impatient."

xxxxxx

"Tell me again exactly what they said when they stuck us in here, and don't leave nothing out," I demand, trying and failing to look out the window. It's too small, too high up to be any use, and there's nothing in here to stand on; nothing to use to get a heads up on what's really going on.

So as Mickey relates the events another time, I make yet another lap of the small space, searching for anything I might have missed that we could use to our advantage, come up a blank yet again, sink back down to the floor and rub at my forehead. Could do without the pounding behind my eyes right now, a clear head to try to think my way out of this, only all I can think about is what I'd be doing about now if I hadn't let myself get talked into this shit-storm. Should be at home, not cooped up in here with this loser wondering if we'll even make it out of here in one piece.

Wish I'd never listened to Mickey Donovan. Family or not, he's more fucking trouble than he's worth.

Guess I need to knuckle down and concentrate on trying to find a way out of this myself—before it's too late.

"So how many of them were there?"

"Just the four we met with. Don't know that they're all still here though, at least one of them left 'cause I heard a car driving off whilst you were still out cold. You reckon we could break down that door, make the most of that?"

I snort at that suggestion. "Don't exactly give us the element of surprise though, does it? And I'm pretty sure they're gonna be packing something."

"So what d'you suggest we do then, Tim? Wait here until they decide to open up the door and shoot us?"

"How about you sit the fuck down and listen for a minute? I'm sick of you and your shit, we're doing this my way from here on out—and the way I see it we've only got one option right now."

xxxxxx

Twenty-two hours ago...

Pushing my chair away from the table, I'm ready to get out of this dive. An hour later and I'm still not really any the wiser over what it is he actually wants from me or how he thinks I can help him with these people he's mixed up with. What I do know is that I'm fed up already of listening to his bullshit so I decide to make my excuses and leave.

"Well, it's been interesting talking to you, Mickey, but I don't reckon I'm the guy you're looking for on this."

"Come on, kid, you know you want to give me a hand with this. I can't believe you've gone straight, not after all I heard about you—all them deals you used to pull around town. Sounds like you were practically running this neighbourhood back then."

"Yeah right. It was kid's stuff, nothing more than that; not like the guys you're dealing with."

"Well what about all that time you spent in McAlester? All that went down in there?"

"Who the hell you been talking to, Donovan?" I demand, the fact that he seems to know a hell of a lot more about me and my life than I've ever heard about him is making me real uneasy.

He laughs. "Guy I work with, Sully, he's got contacts all over the place. And some punk kid outta Tulsa getting away with knifing a guy in the mess hall of the state pen last year? Well that's the kind of thing that gets talked about when we're heading to do business down this way. Never figured it'd turn out to be my baby cousin though. Guess it's a small world after all, eh, kid?"

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair then lean back in my chair and light another cigarette. "Yeah, ain't that the truth."

"Look, you do this right and Sully might cut you in regular. I reckon he could do with some eyes on the ground down here, someone reliable now he's expanding his interests."

"Damn it, Mickey, I don't want his money and I sure as hell don't need to get caught up in any of your crap either. I'm still on parole and there ain't no way I'm going back there, not for some shit that's not even my fucking problem."

"Nah, I don't buy it. No way you've given it all up for some broad, no matter how special you think she is. You gotta be missing the buzz of it don't you? Or are you just some pussy these days?"

He pauses for a couple of seconds, like he's expecting me to instantly roll over and give in to his request if he goads me enough, and I guess a couple of years back—when I gave a damn about my reputation and being someone in this town—that might have worked. But not now. Not after all that crap with Myers made me finally wise up to what I stood to lose.

"Think what you like, Donovan. I ain't getting caught up with this on the say so of someone I barely know. See you around, eh?"

He raises his eyebrows as I get to my feet, and I get maybe two steps away before his words stop me in my tracks.

"Yeah, don't sweat it, kid, If you want to go, then go. Guess I picked the wrong Shepard to ask. Maybe I should go back to your Ma's place and chase up that brother of yours to help me out instead? Reckon he's got the balls for it, don't you?"

I don't care about him talking all that shit about me, but dragging Curly into this? Well that's a different matter entirely 'cause there's no way that'd work out well for anyone. Don't need my brother to get himself caught up with the people Donovan's involved with; risk get himself arrested, or beat up, or worse. Guess I ain't exactly left with any other option than to give in and do this myself.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll do this one thing for you. On one condition—I don't see you or hear from you again once it's done. None of us do. You go back home and stay away from all of my family."

"Well Jesus, Tim, there ain't no need to be like that about it," he says, cracking a grin, "I mean blood's thicker than water and all that."

"Look, I already said I'll do it so quit the fucking lecture and tell me when and where you need me."

"Be ready at eight, tomorrow night. We'll go over the details again on the way there."

xxxxxx

"Come on, open up," Mickey yells, banging his fist on the inside of the door.

"Keep it down in there!" comes a muffled yell from outside.

Only he ignores them, keeps pounding on the door and calling out, pleading with the guy to open it. "Come on, man. I ain't messing with you, kid's having some kind of fit in here, needs some help!"

"So deal with it yourself, asshole!"

"I can't, don't know what to do."

"Why should I give a shit? He ain't no loss to us, Donovan, be doing us a favour if he don't make it."

"Yeah? You sure about that?" Mickey persists, "'Cause I'm sure your boss won't be happy when you tell him you got the hassle of a body to dispose of. Especially not when the kid's the only one who knows where the rest of the cash is stashed."

A laugh echoes through into the room. "You think we were born yesterday, Donovan? I know you're playing us."

"Well, okay man. It's your funeral I guess, when Fitzgerald don't get his money."

Mick presses his ear up against the door, listening while I lie here on the hard floor, waiting, every muscle in my body tense as I hope and pray that the idiots out there go for this, that they open the damn door. But as the seconds drag by it's feeling less and less likely; that the only way I'm gonna get out of here is when—if—they let me.

The silence is painful, until finally the guy out there shouts to him once more. "Alright, Donovan. You get back in the corner, hands behind your head, we're coming in!"

xxxxxx

Ninety minutes ago...

Catching sight of his car pulling up on the street outside, I get to my feet, even before he's sounding the horn.

"See you later," I call out to Leigh, hoping to make an easy get away. Only she steps out the kitchen into the hall, calls out to me as I'm half out the front door.

"Tim, wait. You're really going with him?" she asks, glancing between me and his car, before focusing back on me.

I shrug at her, unable to quite meet her eye.

"You know it's not too late to change your mind? That you don't have to do this? You don't owe him anything."

"Better me than Curly. I want him gone, nowhere near any of us—and the quicker he sorts out this business of his, the quicker he'll be out of town for good."

"And what if he doesn't go? What if this isn't the end of it?"

"It will be, I'll make sure of it. If I do this tonight then none of us will have to see Mickey Donovan ever again."

She shakes her head at me, doesn't believe it'll be that easy any more than I do, I guess. But she doesn't bother to argue the point no more, just kisses me then leans her head against my shoulder as she gives me a real quick hug and says her goodbyes. "Promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

Forcing myself to be positive I smile at her, spit out one last lie as I stride off towards his car. "Don't worry, I ain't planning on doing anything stupid."

Pulling open the car door, I drop into the passenger seat, barely closing the door before Mickey's pulling away, talking nineteen to the dozen at me and laughing at his own shit jokes as he drives—while I stare out the window, and try to remind myself that it's just one job, one night and it don't mean nothing. That it's no different to any of the countless dubious things I've done before. That I'm not about to blow it and lose everything I've worked so hard to get on account of this jerk.

"Well, here we are then, kid," he mutters, slowing the car as he turns off the road into the lot of the abandoned warehouse building. "Remember, you don't need to say nothing, just follow my lead, back me up if you need to. Do that and it'll be a walk in the park, easiest job you've ever done."

Glancing up, I spot four guys, and a couple of cars there already, my mind racing over all that he told me about them last night.

"I know the plan, Mick. Don't know who you're used to working with but I got it, okay? Ain't like it's complicated."

He laughs a little. "Well, okay then. You ready?"

"Yeah, let's do this."

xxxxxx

Mickey's over in the opposite corner of the room, making like he's doing what they told him, while I lie here on the floor, waiting, counting the seconds ticking by in my head as I listen, biding my time. Finally, the door creaks open, followed by footsteps, orders barked at Mickey, while he laughs and chats, does his best to distract whichever of them is talking to him, while the other guy circles around me and nudges me in the back before he kicks at my gut with the toe of his boot.

"See?" Mickey exclaims, "I wasn't bullshitting you. You guys must have hit harder than you thought. I mean look at him, he's in a real mess, ain't he?"

From the corner of my eye I see the man beside me turn towards Mickey as he asks his buddy what they ought to do—and I figure it's now or never, spring into action and swipe his legs out from under him, swing at him and hope to God that Mickey is holding up his end of this by dealing with the other guy.

Glancing back across the room, I'm just in time to see him smash the guard's face into the brickwork, before grabbing his gun from his belt. I freeze for a split second and just watch—not sure exactly how far he's prepared to take this—as Mick points the gun at his head, before flipping it and pistol whipping him so he finally crumples to his knees, a second blow putting him completely out the fight for now.

My attention is dragged back to my own fight as my own opponent begins to struggle against me, but I ain't gonna give it up now, and I struggle through the pain of my earlier beating to lay blow after blow into the guy sprawled on the floor beside me. Don't stop until I feel Mickey's hand on my shoulder, pulling me away.

"Come on, kid, let's get the hell outta here, before their buddies get back."

Following him out of the building, we're both pretty quiet; all I can think of is keeping my head down and getting as far away as possible. And I guess Mickey must be the same 'cause it's not until we make it more than two blocks away that he next opens his mouth.

"Well, that was pretty easy in the end, guess I better give Sully a call, reckon he'll be pretty pleased with how this all panned out though," he says, cracking a grin at me.

"Pleased? You said this was some deal, only now you're telling me this was the outcome you were after? Has one word you've said since you showed up been true, or have you been playing me the whole fucking time?" I can feel my anger rising to the surface as I stand here, fists clenched at my sides, waiting for him to deny it, give me some reasonable explanation for it all.

But he doesn't make any attempt to apologise, just laughs at me. "All I was here for was to get an insight into how Fitzgerald works, get the low-down on his organisation however I could. The thing with the deal was just to get an in, meet him face to face, so to speak. I needed you to believe it, for the thing to look genuine to them."

"You were using me?"

Mickey shrugs. "Look, no hard feelings, kid. I tell you what, I'll put in a word for you with Sully, once it's all sorted I'll make sure to send you a cut the proceeds by way of a thank you."

"Screw the money; I want to know what happens now?" I demand, taking another step closer to him.

"Guess I better go make that call, then get on the road before Fitzgerald comes after me," he says as he pulls the car door open before pausing to grin at me. "Good to see you again, kid, it's been fun."

"Fun? Fucking hell, Mickey," I yell, grabbing a hold of him by the jacket and shoving him roughly against the side of his car. "Is that it? Where does that leave me, my family?"

"Relax, Tim, they're not gonna have the time to care about coming after you, not once Sully really gets started with them. They'll be out of business before you know it," he says, pushing away my hands and straightening up his shirt. "But even if they do, it ain't like it'll be nothing you can't handle."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, of course; you're family ain't you?" he replies with a smirk, "and us Donovans always come out on top, in the end."