I had actually written this story before I wrote "Like We Never Loved At All" but didn't upload it because I ended up seeing that someone else had written something similar about this same part of the game before I posted in on here. However, I had several requests to share it so here it is. If you've read my other story then you'll notice some similarities...like I said...I wrote this first and never planned on sharing it. Then when I decided to share, I didn't feel like re-writing it. :) This was probably the part of the game that I was most disappointed in because I thought they could have really had some good Michael/Amanda stuff when Michael was kidnapped and then rescued. It is complete and I figured I'd just post it all as one, rather than breaking it into small chapters. Hope you enjoy!
Michael had to bite back a groan every time the car hit a bump. He knew Franklin was trying to be careful because he was driving at a much slower speed than he normally did. It didn't matter though...he could be parked and Michael would still be in pain. It hurt just to breathe at this point. He was certain that if he didn't have broken ribs then they were at least cracked. He tasted blood in his mouth from the various lacerations that had been the result of the beating his face had taken. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror yet. He supposed he could have flipped down the visor and looked but honestly he didn't want to see what was looking back at him. He couldn't believe he had made it out of there alive. He wouldn't have if Franklin hadn't shown up, he knew that. He didn't even want to think about the gruesome end he would have found. It was funny how before the Chinese had taken him, he had thought he wanted to die. His family was gone, he hadn't made anything out of his life other than a life of crime, he felt empty. Then suddenly he was faced with the very real possibility of death and all he wanted to do was live. He wanted to do everything in his power to get his family back. He didn't even know if that was possible but if it wasn't, at least he would know that he did his best to try. A life of crime might be all he has to show, but that didn't mean it was all he had to offer. At that moment when he had been hanging from a hook, looking into the mocking faces of two men taking turns with their weapons of choice, he had never wanted to live more.
With each swing of the bat from the largest man, his ribs had crunched. With each flick of the knife blade from the smaller, thin man...he had watched as red made it's way down his body. His eye was so swollen that he had been barely able to see when Franklin had made his entrance. When the Chinese had first grabbed him, they had nailed him with a tire iron and he couldn't see it but it must have opened up one heck of a gash between his eyebrow and his hairline because he could feel that whole side of his head was slick with blood. He had tried to blink it away so he could see but all he ended up with was a blurry haze. He had spit out his own blood so many times that he was surprised he had any left in his body. On top of all that, he had taken a a bullet to the shoulder during his escape with Franklin. Luckily it had went all the way through and since he wasn't dead yet, he figured it hadn't hit anything major. Another bullet had grazed his side and it hurt but that was the lest of his worries.
He had thought he had known what hopelessness felt like before. No...hanging there, believing you're going to die and never have the chance to see your family again...or in his case...even argue with your family again, that had been hopelessness. He heard himself sigh heavily and saw Franklin glancing over at him with a worried frown on his face. He had been doing it the entire drive home. Michael knew he was worried...heck...he was worried too, but he wasn't about to show just how much pain he was really in. He had to close his eyes because the speed of the car and the flash of passing lights was making his head spin and he was already dizzy enough without that adding to it.
Franklin saw Michael close his eyes and knew the man had to be in a lot of pain but was trying to hide it, of course, because men like them saw it as a sign of weakness to show pain. Funny thing was that he had never thought of Michael as weak and that wouldn't change even if the man collapsed right in front of him. He understood though, because if the roles were reversed he would have been the same way. He cringed when he couldn't avoid a dip in the road and the car bounced. Michael didn't voice anything but he had heard the sharp intake of breath from his friend and mentor.
"My bad Michael, I'm sorry. We almost there though" Franklin said...half out of genuinely feeling the need to apologize for something he couldn't control and half because he wanted to make sure Michael was still conscious. There was no reply but he saw Michael's eyes flicker open briefly to check on their surroundings.
He could see the De Santa house in the distance and wondered if Michael even wanted to be home. His family had been gone for several weeks now and he knew that the man had spoken to his kids a few times but Amanda hadn't taken or returned any of his phone calls. He only knew because Michael had told him once when he had been drowning his loneliness in one whiskey too many. What Michael didn't know though is that his family had called Franklin several times to find out how he was doing and to ask Franklin to check on him. He shook his head in silence as he drove. Pride. He had plenty of it so he didn't have a problem with it for himself. In the De Santa family situation though it just ended up ticking him off the more he thought about it. Michael was far from a perfect man. He wasn't about to cover for the man and pretend that he wasn't messed up. Heck...Michael would be the first to admit it. But what really ticked Franklin off was the attitude that the De Santa family had that everyone else was the problem except them. Jimmy liked to make sure his dad knew what a worthless father he had been but yet he sure loved to spend the money his father had made too. And who had he called when he was in trouble not once but twice? His father. Why? Because in spite of their differences and how worthless of a father Jimmy thought Michael had been...he knew he could count on him to save him.
Then you had Tracey...yet another spoiled De Santa child. He knew that Tracey had been a daddy's girl and that her and Michael had been very close when she was younger. He wasn't sure what the entire problem was there but he knew that Tracey loved her dad. Part of him thought that her acting out was just an attempt to worry her father and get his attention. It worked...but then once it happened it was like she resented it too. Once again though...when she found herself in a bad situation, who did she call? The man she knew would drop everything and take care of business to protect her. Franklin found himself shaking his head again. This family was likely to give HIM anxiety and high blood pressure...he didn't know how they dealt with it.
Then you had Michael's wife...their relationship was probably the one that frustrated Franklin the most. Here you had a couple that had been together for a long time...longer than any relationship Franklin had ever been in. Longer than all of his relationships added together in fact. You couldn't be in the same room with the two of them without being able to tell that they loved each other. Granted, you had to look deep to see it between the arguments and the insults. He kept his developing chuckle to himself. He didn't figure Michael would appreciate it at the moment. Amanda had cheated on Michael several times but sometimes Michael forgot that he cheated first. Neither was ok for any reason but both had too much pride to sit down and figure out the root of the problem.
Ah pride...there it was again. Pride was what kept Amanda from calling Michael to see how he was doing in the weeks since her and the kids had been gone. That was why she had been calling Franklin instead. He hadn't told Michael because she had begged him not too. He wasn't sure how Michael would have handled it anyway. He drank a lot and when he drank he got a little crazy and Franklin didn't want him getting the wrong idea in one of those drunken hazes. He had been shocked when she had called him the first time. It was several days after Michael had disappeared to hide out at Trevor's place. He didn't remember all of the conversation but he remembered the fear in her voice when she had asked him if her husband was ok. He didn't get her...she was worried enough about Michael to call his friend that she barely knew, but she insisted she didn't want to speak to the man himself.
She had called again right after he had found out that Michael was with the Chinese. He almost hadn't answered because he was still a little shaken up from that news and was trying to come up with a plan, but she had let it ring persistently so he had finally given in. She had known immediately that something was wrong from the sound of his voice and there had been silence on her end for a few moments after his tense greeting.
"Franklin? What's wrong? It's Michael isn't it...where is he? What's going on? He's in trouble isn't he?" Her voice escalated with each question and he knew he had no answers for her. None that he could give her right now anyway. "Listen...I'm gonna do what I can. He's like a father to me...or a brother...or...whatever. I ain't gonna let anything happen to him if I can help it. Look I gotta go...I need to get started." He had ended the phone call abruptly even though he knew she had more questions. He didn't have time to deal with that drama. His phone had went off constantly with text messages for the 15 minutes. If it wasn't Amanda telling him to please find Michael then it was Tracey begging him for information on her dad and to please tell her he was alive. If it wasn't Tracey then it was Jimmy saying that his mom wouldn't tell him anything and asking if it was true that his dad was missing. It had been exhausting! He had been trying not to admit to himself how worried he was and having to deal with their worries had just made his worry real.
A loud horn honking behind him made him flinch and he instinctively reached for his weapon before he realized that he had been sitting at a green light. He hit the gas and the tires squealed as his car took off and left the offending car at the stoplight. He glanced over to find Michael looking at him through half closed eyes.
"Sorry dawg...guess I was caught up thinkin 'bout how things went down today." Michael just grunted and closed his eyes again.
He tapped the breaks as he slowed to turn into Michael's estate. The lights were on but he didn't see any cars anywhere. He slowly put the vehicle in park and leaned down to look up at the house through the windshield.
"Hey man, there's lights on in there. I'll go in first and make sure everything's cool."
Michael already had his door open and was slowly easing his way out of the vehicle.
"It's fine Franklin, really, don't worry about it. I left in such a hurry to catch Tevor that I probably left the lights on. If someone was here, I'm sure they'd have been careful to have the lights off instead so we wouldn't suspect anything...either that or they would have already introduced themselves to us."
"Aight man, if you're sure," Franklin replied. He wanted to offer to help Michael into the house but he knew the older man would never go for that. That was ok, he knew that Michael's pride was wounded already from letting himself get into the mess he had been in and having to be rescued. He'd let him pretend to be fine but still called out "hey...Michael...you sure you don't need anything man?"
Michael stopped a few steps away from the vehicle and leaned down slightly so he could see him. "Nah I'm good but listen Franklin...thanks for everything. I won't forget what you did today. I owe you."
"Nah...you don't owe me nothin'...just take care of yourself. I'll see you later." With that said Michael made his way towards the house and Franklin watched until the door closed before slowly driving away.
Every bone in Michael's body had screamed in protest as he had gotten out of Franklin's vehicle. He refused to let the younger man see him any weaker than he had already seen him today though, so he sucked it up and stood as straight as he could. He owed Franklin big time. He had thought he was a goner as he had been hanging in the warehouse. He knew Trevor wouldn't come for him, as furious as he had been. He wouldn't have even been in that position if it hadn't been for T. He still wasn't quite past his anger with his old friend over that. Of course he couldn't pretend to be blameless either. He had lied to the man and faked his own death. He had seen the tattoo on Trevor's arm...the tattoo that honored him and was in remembrance of his death. For a moment he felt the guilt deeply but then shook his head and sighed as he tried to put one foot in front of the other to make it into the house. - Just one more step De Santa...just keep taking one more step...you're almost there...then you can collapse -
He could hear Franklin's car idling behind him and knew the man was waiting to make sure he made it inside. He had to swallow several times to keep the nausea that kept building from escaping and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a few steps to try to stop the world from spinning. He made it to the steps and almost stumbled, he could barely contain his sigh of relief when he grasped the door handle. The walk from the driveway to the door had never seemed so long but tonight it had seemed endless. He pulled the door open and casually lifted one hand in a halfhearted wave to signal Franklin that he could leave. Swinging the door closed with more force than he thought he could summon at the moment, he vaguely heard the sound of the thud before the room started spinning with such a force that he couldn't even stand up. The next thing he knew the floor was coming up to meet him and he crashed against something that gave way and shattered.
Amanda was so annoyed with her children that she could have strangled them right now. They had insisted that she go back to the house to see if their father had left anything behind that would indicate where he had gone. She hadn't wanted to worry her kids, but she had been so shaken after her phone call with Franklin that they had been able to see right through her act. They had all been worried. It wasn't like things like this had never happened with Michael before, but it had just felt different this time and they all had felt it. She had insisted that she was sure that Michael wouldn't have left any clues behind, but Tracey had been frantic and had wailed until Amanda had finally agreed to visit the house.
"Fine, I'll go take a look around," she had said, "but if I see his car there then I'm coming right home. As long as I know he's safe, I don't want to actually have to talk to him."
She had held her tongue when Tracey had rolled her eyes and grabbed her keys and left. It wasn't that she was heartless and didn't want to help Michael, it was the opposite, she was scared to death of what she would find. Either she would find something that confirmed that he was in danger, or she would find nothing and that would fuel her irrational fears...OR...she would find him sitting there in the home and have to face him after all this time had passed. If she found him with another woman then she couldn't be held responsible for her actions!
She had thought about their life and how they had wound up in this situation as she had driven to the house. She had never wanted her children to look at her the same way she had looked at her Mom. Yet somehow, in her obsession with payback for Michael's sins and her desperation for him to notice her like he once had, she had fallen into the same cycle she had grown up around. She had become her Mother.
She had been upstairs in their bedroom when she heard the car enter the drive and froze. She still didn't move when she heard the door slam closed with a thud. She didn't need to go look to see who it was...she knew it was him. She could sense it...feel it even. Torn somewhere between relief and the nerves of being caught in the house, she chewed softly on her lip as she thought about what she should do. Franklin must have overestimated the danger he was in. Should she go downstairs and confront him? Try to sneak out when he went to the kitchen to poor himself a drink like he always seemed to do?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a crash of something shattering, followed by a soft thud. Her first thought was one of annoyance...- if I walk down those steps and find him with another stripper...I'll kill him myself! - Her second thought followed a brief few seconds later...she knew it was Michael...but what if the trouble he always managed to find had followed him home? She knew she couldn't stay in the room so she silently crept towards the door and cautiously peered around the corner. She didn't see anyone in the hallway outside the door so she quietly made her way to the steps. "Michael? Is that you...?" she called softly without thinking. - Real smart Amanda...if someone else IS in the house, you just told them you were here too. - She leaned her head around the corner of the staircase and gasped before she could stop herself.
She didn't know what horrified her more...the fact that Michael was lying slumped against the wall, in the midst of the broken remnants from the bust statue that had been displayed right inside the door? Or the fact that he was covered in blood that didn't seem to be from the glass? Or the fact that he didn't even look up when she said his name. In fact...he didn't move at all. She rushed down the steps so fast that she nearly missed a few and had to grab the railing to catch herself. Her mind barely registered the sound of the glass crunching beneath her feet as she came to a stop beside him.
"Michael...MICHAEL" she shook his shoulders in an attempt to make him open his eyes. The only response she got was his head rolling to the side as she shook. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out to take his face in her hands and lifted it up to face her. The moment of relief she felt when she heard a soft groan was replaced with horror when she saw his face for the first time up close.
"Oh Michael...who did this to you? What have you gotten yourself into this time?" She knew she was talking to herself but she couldn't help it. She let her eyes roam over his face. The entire left side was covered in dried blood from a nasty gash just below his hairline. There was fresh blood trickling from it, so she assumed he must have hit it again when he fell. His right eye was swollen and surrounded by a dark bruise that told the story of the beating he had taken. Her eyes fell on his lips...his bottom lip was slightly split and had seemed to stop bleeding but she could see where he must have been bleeding several times from the mouth because he had a trail of blood down the side of his jaw and chin. She let her eyes continue their journey down his body and had to cover her mouth with her hand to contain the unexpected urge to sob. His once white wife-beater tank top was now varying shades of red. He had so many cuts of that she couldn't stop to count them. This hadn't just been a beating, this had been torture. She was sure that it had something to do with him getting back into his former life with Trevor and Franklin and for a brief moment she felt resentment. Resentment that he had chosen that path again, resentment that he hadn't fought harder for her, resentment that he hadn't cared enough. Those thoughts were immediately forgotten as another groan escaped his battered lips. She saw that he had been shot in his left shoulder and that one of the knife wounds on his side was much deeper than the rest and most of the blood must have come from those two wounds. There was a very bloody towel beside Michael's body and she assumed that he had been using that to try to stop the bleeding. She jumped when she heard her cell phone start chiming a tune upstairs but she wasn't about to leave Michael to go see if it was the kids or to call for help.
She smoothed his hair back and let her thumb gently caress his forehead. "Michael" she said softly, "Michael...baby please wake up. We need to get you to the couch and I can't move you on my own."
Michael had never felt so disoriented in his life. He felt like his head was spinning even though his eyes were closed. Speaking of his eyes, when had it become so hard to open them? He felt exhausted just trying. He finally realized someone was talking to him. Not just anyone...Amanda...his Amanda. It sounded like her voice was swirling all around him. - Am I dead? Is that why I can't open my eyes? - He wasn't sure if he wanted to wake up...he could feel her hand caressing his face and her voice was soothing. If this wasn't real then he wanted to pretend for a little while longer. He realized he could even smell her perfume. It was intoxicating...far more than his favorite whiskey had ever been.
"Manda..." he murmured, a little surprised that he must have said it out loud. The hand stopped moving on his forehead and he panicked for a moment. Suddenly he felt one hand on each side of his face and he could hear her again "Michael open your eyes! Please open your eyes and look at me...I'm right here." He fought the weight of his eyelids until he finally saw a little light. The light couldn't have been that bright but it felt like shards of glass were piercing his head when he tried to keep his eyes open. "Don't you dare close those eyes Michael...look at me." He heard himself groan as he tightly squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them and blinked furiously as he tried to focus.
"Amanda...you're really here..." he could hear the raspy brokenness of his own voice and hated the weakness and desperation he heard there too.
Amanda had never been more thankful to hear the sound of his voice. She knew she was crying again before the tears dropped away from her face this time. His normally beautiful bright blue eyes were cloudy with pain and confusion and it was all she could do not to fall apart in relief that he was still here with her...still breathing.
"I'm really here sweetheart..." the term of endearment slipped out of her lips before she even realized it. Part of her felt awkward and embarrassed that she had said it out loud and part of her was relieved that she didn't have to pretend she didn't care anymore. She didn't have to pretend in that moment that she didn't love him. She had gotten so good at pretending that she had almost convinced herself at times. Almost...but looking into his eyes, no words had to be spoken. She couldn't have put into words the explosion of love, attraction, desire, relief, joy, and fear that she felt in that moment if she had wanted too.
She was the one who broke the eye contact first and brought an end to the silence as she half stood and lifted his arm until it was over her shoulders.
"Come on big boy...we need to get you off this floor and away from this glass. I'm going to see if I can stop the bleeding, but Michael, you need to go to the hospi..."
"No...no hospital" he interrupted her weakly. He leaned heavily on her as he got his feet underneath him and pushed himself up off the floor as best as he could. He tried to stay against the wall unless there was furniture to lean on because there was no way his wife was going to be able to hold his weight if his body decided to go on strike and quit working.
"No hospitals Mandy..." he continued, "hospitals mean questions and questions mean cops and those are things that I don't want to...that I CAN'T deal with right now."
He could sense the frustration coming off of her in waves without even looking at her face but this was an argument she wasn't going to win. He couldn't afford to bring attention to himself and with the shape he was in, the hospital would insist on involving the police. There was no way he could come up with a believable story for the obvious torture he had been put through. Nothing that would distract the cops anyway. No, he would just have to hope that he didn't have any internal damage or at least that it wasn't anything that would kill him. Maybe Lester or Franklin had a doctor connection that would make house calls. He'd have to check with them...or maybe have Amanda call them. All he could think about at the moment was getting to the couch before he passed out again.
When they had finally made their way to the couch he dropped out of exhaustion, his legs no longer willing or able to hold him. His biggest struggle at the moment was trying to keep his eyes open. He could hear Amanda still talking to him...saying something about being right back and grabbing a first aid kit. He didn't want to let go of her hand. He was afraid that if he did she might not come back so he held on. He felt her other hand gently come to a rest on top of their joined hands and as she softly moved her thumb back and forth in a soothing motion he heard her say "Michael, I'm not going anywhere...I'll be right back...I promise..."
As soon as those words left her mouth, she felt Michael's hand ease it's grip. It was reluctant, but he slowly released her and she gave his hand one last pat before running into the kitchen for the first aid kit. This certainly wasn't the first time that Michael had returned home with some bruises and cuts, but never had it been anything like this. THIS was something far out of her expertise. She had no idea how to help him. What if he was bleeding internally? She didn't know anything about fixing that. She just knew that he could die...he could drown in his own blood while she sat there thinking she was helping him. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around the first aid box as she re-entered the living room. They were going to need to get a new couch after this, the blood would never come out. Even if it did, she would never stop seeing it there. She could see his eyes open slightly as he watched her approach with the supplies. She sat next to him and placed the first aid kit beside her. She wanted to start with his face but the bleeding wounds in his side and shoulder scared her and she knew she needed to start there.
"Alright big guy, let's get that shirt off of you" she said as she grabbed the bottom edges and started to peel it away from his body.
"Do you have to point out the few extra pounds...big guy..." he grumbled under his breath as his exhales came quicker and more punctuated. She knew it hurt even to remove the shirt. The blood that was dry was causing the shirt to stick to the wounds and on top of that she was sure he was sore.
"Who said I was talking about weight?" she whispered in his ear and pulled back to make sure he saw her wink. She let out a soft laugh when his eyebrows shot up.
Her laughter died off quickly as she lifted his shirt off of his body. "Oh Michael" she gasped. She had never seen someone so black and blue. His sides were dominated by huge, ugly bruises that looked painful. "What did they do to you?" she exclaimed in horror.
"Ohhhh you know...it's summer...the boys just wanted to get in a little batting practice I guess" he said in one big rush of air as he lowered his arms with a grimace.
"That's not funny...Michael you need to go to the hospital. There's no way around it! Look at your side! There's no way that you don't have broken ribs and what if one of those ribs punctured a lung? I can't fix that Michael! I can't fix it!" She knew she was on the verge of hysteria and that she needed to calm herself but she couldn't help herself. She had always looked at him as invincible. She knew he could take care of himself so when she got angry at him she did whatever she wanted because she knew he would still be here. Be alive. But what if this was different? She had never seen him like this before. She had never felt fear like this before. Her thoughts were running wildly through her mind and were probably revealing themselves across her face because she felt him grab her hand.
"Sweetheart take a breath...breathe...it'll be ok. I'LL be ok. I've been beaten and bruised before and survived. This is no different..."
"WRONG Michael...this IS different...it's VERY different and you know it!" she knew she sounded angry but it was all fear. She barely registered his usage of her earlier term of endearment. "It's never been this serious before. Yes you've had a black eye and a few cuts...you've even been grazed by a bullet before...but this...THIS? You're covered in blood, it looks like someone stabbed you...several times in fact...you even have burn marks! And only God knows what kind of internal injuries you have that I can't see?!"
"You're right...this is different" he acknowledged calmly, "but it's nothing you can't handle. Let's just take it one step at a time Manda and if something goes sideways then we'll call Lester or Franklin and see if they have a doctor friend. How about that?"
She didn't know how he had spoken so calmly. The entire time trying to reassure her, as if he wasn't the one lying there after being tortured for who knows how long by someone she'd probably never put a face too. His thumb rubbed calming circles on the top of her hand as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"Alright Michael but you promise me that I'm not going to have to tell our kids that their dad is dead. I can't do that Michael, I can't. I know they're spoiled and they lash out like we do but they love you...they always have. They've been scared out of their minds wondering where you were and if you were ok."
He smiled softly as the circles continued on her hand. "I love them too, so much that it hurts sometimes. I know I haven't been the best father, I regret that. When all of this was happening, all I could think about was how much I wanted to live. How much I wanted a second...ok...third or fourth...whatever...I wanted another chance to be the father I should have been. The husband I should have been." He wouldn't look at her when he said that but his voice had grown so soft that she almost had trouble hearing him.
When he finally looked up at her, she saw tears in his eyes and it took her breath away. She had never seen Michael cry. Never. The man has nerves of steel. Emotions of steel. She didn't think he was capable. She supposed it should have made him seem weaker to her, but it made him seem stronger than he had ever been. She gently wiped his tears away before they escaped down his cheeks and softly placed her lips on his forehead.
"Let's see if we can get you fixed up Mr. De Santa."
Michael closed his eyes as Amanda gently wiped the blood away from the various wounds on his body. He was trying to think about anything other than the pain that was pulsating through his body with each wipe of the damp towel, each cleansing pad, each tightly wrapped bandage. He thought back to the conversation they had just had. - nice going De Santa, crying? Really? way to be a man - It wasn't that he thought there was anything wrong with men crying necessarily. He just didn't do it. He didn't like to show weakness. Maybe that was a fault of his, he didn't know. All he knew is that the tears were there forming before he could stop them. He hadn't been able to look at Amanda but when he finally did, he saw that she was crying too. Maybe there was hope for them yet. There had to be...he wasn't going to let her go again. He didn't think he could handle it. Yeah...he had acted indifferent, like he didn't need her or the kids, but the truth was he had fallen apart. The silence of the house had overwhelmed him. All he had wanted to do was drink and sleep. Oh sure, he had tried to fill the void. He tried watching movies and pretending Tracey was there beside him complaining that he wouldn't change the channel to something that wasn't old. He tried venturing up into Jimmy's bedroom and turned on his music just so he could pretend that Jimmy was up there playing video games with everything too loud again. Heck, he even ventured out by the pool and did some yoga so he could pretend that Amanda was there beside him telling him to breathe. None of it had worked though and in the end he had been lonelier than he had ever been.
Then there was everything that went down with Trevor. He knew Trevor felt like he had betrayed all of them but that had really never been his intention. His only intention had been to get his family out safely and to survive. A man didn't understand the need to protect and provide for his family until he had one. Maybe someday Trevor would experience that. When he thought about it he supposed he could see where he could be held responsible for their friend's death, but he hadn't pulled the trigger. He had never planned on Brad getting shot. HE was the one who was supposed to get shot. Well, at least now he knew what Trevor felt like because having his friend not only abandon him to the Chinese, but set him up so that he wouldn't be able to escape...well...that sure felt an awful lot like betrayal too. He supposed he deserved it a little...but his family didn't. They didn't deserve to get caught up in it.
He opened his eyes to watch Amanda. She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't even notice. She was a beautiful woman and sometimes when he looked at her he couldn't believe she was his wife. He didn't know what he had been thinking when he cheated on her. He had a lot of things to regret in life, and he did regret them, but this was what he regretted the most. He knew it wasn't fair how he had flipped out on her when she had then cheated on him. He started it after all. It HAD hurt to find out about the affairs though. If anything it should have shown him what it felt like for her, but instead he had focused on what it felt like for him and lashed out at her. He silently rolled his eyes at himself...what an idiot.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when Amanda bumped his bruised side with her hand and he quickly drew in a sharp breath.
"Oh! I'm so sorry Michael" she quickly said.
"It's ok, it's fine...just surprised me." he managed to wheeze. She was doing a great job and he didn't want her to feel like she had caused her pain.
He reached up to squeeze his head...it was killing him. Shouldn't be a surprise after the day he's had. Amanda silently handed him several ibuprofens and a bottle of water she had brought out with her from the kitchen and watched him as he downed them.
Amanda watched as her husband quickly swallowed the pills that she had offered and laid his head back against the couch. She marveled at his strength. The pain he was in had to be overwhelming, but yet he sat there calmly as if he was sitting out by the pool relaxing.
She looked down at her handiwork on his chest, shoulder, and sides. Everything had been cleaned and bandaged up and she had wrapped his ribcage to try to provide some protection and support for those ribs. She let her eyes move up to his face and the work she needed to do there. He looked peaceful with his eyes closed, lashes resting against his skin. She shook her head at the absurdity of that thought. He looked as peaceful as one could look with blood all over over their face anyway.
She wet the towel and gentle started wiping away the blood on his chin and down his neck. His eyes opened briefly and he watched her quietly for a few moments before letting them close again. It was in those moments where she knew he wasn't watching that she allowed herself to watch him. To really LOOK at him. The years had been good to Michael. One wouldn't think that was possible with the life that he had lead. Oh he had aged...but on him age was a good thing. She found him more attractive now than she had even when they were younger. She let herself re-memorize each detail as she cleaned. From the head full of thick hair to the lines forming around his eyes that only seemed to make him more attractive. From the stubble that had formed along his jaw to the lips that she had kissed more times than she could count. She was so lost in details and memories that she didn't realize that she had stopped moving her hand until her eyes wandered back up and met his. She knew she was blushing. What was up with that? How many years had they been married now and she was blushing because he had caught her looking at him? There was a slight smirk on his face as she started to clean out the wounds on his face. That smirk had the power of infuriating her or making her go weak in the knees. Right now it was a little bit of both. She allowed her hand to push a little harder than needed as she cleaned out the gash on his head.
"Ow!" he said as his head jerked back slightly.
"Oops" she said unconvincingly, with a smirk of her own. She had placed bandage over his wound on his forehead and gently put some ointment on the split in his lip.
She stood up so suddenly that he looked up surprised. "We should get you to the sink so you can rinse some of the blood out of your mouth" she said as she reached down for his hand.
Michael felt himself grimace as he let his wife pull him from the couch. He really hadn't wanted to move but he had forgotten about the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and now that he was aware of it he couldn't wait to get rid of it. They made their way over to the sink and she handed him the bottle of water that she had given him before. It actually hurt to swish it around in his mouth and it surprised him how red it was when he spit it back out. He was enjoying the soothing circles that Amanda was rubbing on his back. When he was finally done, he leaned on the edge of the sink, exhausted.
"Do you think you can make it up the steps" Amanda asked him. Could he? He wasn't sure but he nodded anyway.
He leaned heavily against the wall and slid his way upstairs but they made it. He glanced over at Tracey's door and then Jimmy's as they made their way to their master bedroom. It reminded him how empty the house was. He laid down on the bed with a sigh, relieved to finally be able to stay in one spot. He opened one eye as he felt Amanda undoing his belt.
She just shook her head, "Don't even think about it Michael" she smirked as she pulled his pants off of him. He hadn't realized, but she must have taken his shoes off at some point downstairs. Or had he kicked them off? He didn't remember. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep was Amanda kissing his forehead and telling him she would be right back...that she was just going to sweep up the glass by the door.
Amanda watched as her husband quickly fell into a deep sleep. Normally he was slow to fall asleep but after the day he'd had she was surprised his body hadn't given in even earlier. She placed her hand on his chest, reassured by the gentle rise and fall there. She wanted to stay there beside him and watch him sleep, but she needed to get everything cleaned up downstairs. She had looked at her phone and had 12 missed calls and 18 text messages between the two kids. She knew it wouldn't be long before they tried again or before they made their way over here to check on their dad themselves. She didn't want them walking in to blood everywhere and broken glass. She looked at the clock, in a few hours it would be morning. No wonder she was exhausted.
It took her about a half hour to sweep up the glass lamp remnants and clean up the blood the best she could from the living room. She thought about calling the kids but didn't want to alarm them even more by calling them at this time of night. No phone call at this time was ever good news. She hoped they were sleeping, so instead of a call she decided to send them a text.
:sorry I wasn't able to answer your calls. Franklin brought your dad home. He is ok, I'm staying at the house to keep an eye on him though. See you later today. Love you both:
She made her way back up to their bedroom and changed out of her own clothes, now stained with her husband's blood, before crawling into bed beside him. She watched him sleep to assure herself that he really was ok. She moved closer until she could rest her head on his uninjured shoulder and wrap her hands around his arm. She needed to be close to him, to touch him. She wasn't sure if she had woken him or if he was still asleep, but she heard him murmur "love you Manda" before his soft snores resumed.
"I love you too darlin', I love you too" she said softly, placing a whisper of a kiss on his shoulder. Maybe this time things would be different for them. Maybe this time he'd change. Maybe this time she would change too. If today had shown her anything it was that she had realized that she didn't know if she ever wanted to live without him. She didn't know if she COULD live without him. As her eyes finally began to drift closed, she realized she never wanted to find out.