Drowning
i luv ewansmile
Summary: With no memory of how he came to be laying in a pool of his own blood, Michael Westen wonders if he's finally running out of luck or if he's just slipping. Hurt!Michael.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Burn Notice. This is just for fun not for profit. I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.
It's a beautiful day in Miami, the sun is shining bright, except that it's night and the rain is pouring down.
The motion picture of time is currently blurred for Michael Westen. His vision swims in and out of focus. Stop the world, I wanna get off. Blinking his eyes shut against the headache he wills himself to focus on the pain and remain conscious for longer than a few seconds.
His stomach clinches and he slowly rolls onto his side before being violently sick. The sound of vomit splattering onto the pavement temporary drives out the sound of the rain in his ears.
The rain gently washes his face, replacing the tears there. He spits and catches his breath before huffing bitterly at the ache and soreness in his side. A sharp pain as he inhales causes him to grimace. He places a tentative hand to the area and is shocked by the liquid warmth that greets his fingers.
Feeling the ground next to him he realizes he's lying in a pool of his own blood or maybe it's the rain water pooling around him. But why is it sticking to his fingers? Crap, how long have I been out?
Lying still he concentrates on his breathing while identifying what parts of his body hurt the most, starting with the pounding in his head working down to the stiffness in his legs.
It's dark out. And it's cold. No not the rain, nor the breeze. He's cold. Michael. Blood loss will do that for you.
"Michael!" She screams as she falls to her knees, hands coming to rest upon his face.
He groans at the shout of his name so close to his face. I didn't hear her coming.
"Michael! Michael, open your eyes, stay awake!"
Madeline is greeted with a raspy reply of, "Mom?" Is that my voice? Why is my mom here?
"Yes honey, it's me. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay." The mantra is not reassuring to Michael, he could always tell when she was lying. And right now it sounded more like she was trying to lie to herself rather than comfort her son.
"Michael, what happened?" She begs as she frantically tries to staunch the flow of blood from his side.
"I…" He grunts as she loosens his belt and refastens it around the wound, effectively keeping pressure on the wound.
Visions past through his mind as he tries to piece together his memories of the day. Imagines flash through his mind but he's unable to make the connections.
"I don't know," he breathes, eyes slowing focusing in on her face, "Ma?"
"Yes, Michael it's me," she says, grasping his numb hands.
"Ma, why are you here?" He asks, pulling his hands out of hers, he gently eases himself up into a sitting position one hand coming to his head as he feels like he's about to faint.
"You don't remember?" Madeline asks concerned.
"Remember what Ma?" He asks voice fading to a whisper, blinking his eyes trying to shield them from the harsh lights of his mother's car.
"You were supposed to have dinner with me tonight," her tone of voice almost sounds accusing, then turns to worry, "You called to tell me you would be late. You sounded upset so I decided to bring dinner to you."
At the mention of his mother's food he dry heaves then manages to ask, "How long ago was that?"
"A little over an hour ago," she seems slightly embarrassed, "I might have burnt the meatloaf and had to stop and get take out. I hope you still like Thai."
Madeline sees the blank stare in her son's face and leans over him, grabbing his face in her hands, slicking his wet hair back in the process.
He flinches as her touch stings the wound behind his left ear.
She pulls her hand away, "Oh, I'm sorry!"
He seems to come out of the daze, his eyes focusing on his mother's face.
"Ma, I don't feel so good," and his body goes slack in her arms.