My first ever fic and a GTA one at that! I absolutely loved this game, it is definitely my favorite. It's called Sleepwalking after the song that plays after Michael dies in the original way of ending B. I hope you like it! :)

Michael had never thought it would come to this.

Franklin's hand clutched his own, and he held tightly. The blood pounded in Michael's ears and any shout or scream was lost in his throat, aside from a few grunts. His heart punched against his chest and he flailed, trying to pull himself up and also not letting his sweaty hand slip out of Franklin's.

"You fuck." He hissed, looking up at Franklin. He didn't know what he saw in Franklin's face. He looked exceptionally blank, except for the sweat on his face; It was probably from holding Michael up.

Betrayel flooded through Michael's body, and he glared up at his the boy he had taken under his wing. He had let Franklin go when he stole his son's car. He had taught Franklin everything he knew. He had gotten Franklin more money than he would ever be able to get by gangbanging with Lamar. Without Michael, all Franklin would be was a car stealing gangster.

A certain name flashed through his mind- Judas. It was what Trevor would've called Franklin, if Trevor were here. For once, Michael almost wished he were.

"I'm sorry, but this is the only way." Franklin said, a slight pleading in his voice, as if he wanted Michael to understand, the insensitive fuck.

Michael wanted to scream at him like he had on his way up, but his voice was trapped somewhere in his throat. All he could do was hiss out a few insults at him. The betrayal sliced through him, as if Franklin was personally carving FUCK YOU into Michael's back with a rusty knife.

"I'm sorry." Franklin said again, this time quieter. Something in his expression changed, but he looked away a bit. He grunted as he started pulling Michael back up.

Anger rushed through Michael, white hot anger. This asshole; this fuck was going to pull him up to do...what? Apologize and hope they would be okay? Kill him in a more personal and up close way? Frustration added to the hot and violent anger he was feeling. He wouldn't let Franklin decide how he was going to die. He was Michael fucking Townley, the man who had lived despite getting shot; the man who had been struggling through life for ten long fucking years. He wouldn't let this kid-whom he had stupidly shown everything and became close to-kill him. Only Michael would decide how to die.

As he got closer, he pulled his head back, ready to hit Franklin's head with his own. Yes, it would send him plunging to his death, but he'd have at least decided that he would go, instead of the asshole who was dangling him over the edge.

Just before he threw his head forward, a loud bang sounded out. A bit of blood spurted onto Michael, and Franklin screamed. He stumbled back, and Michael held onto his arm, as Franklin held onto his bleeding leg with his free hand.

Michael was able to pull himself up and over the railing once Franklin had done most of the work. He landed on his back, gasping for breath and holding on tightly to the railing. His heart hammered in his chest, painfully trying to beat out. Michael looked up at Franklin.

Franklin was backed up, his back pressed to the tower. He clutched his leg, swearing a bit as blood dripped from the wound. Michael's eyes widened as he realized that the wound had been caused by a bullet.

He didn't stop to think about who had shot Franklin. Instead, he jumped to his feet, stumbling a bit. He almost felt ready to throw up over the side, but held it together. He stumbled up to Franklin and pulled his foot back. With all his might, he kicked the bullet wound.

Franklin howled in pain, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Ah, fuck!"

"You motherfucker!" Michael yelled at him, kicking again. "You fuck! Think you can kill me? Huh?"

Franklin was trying his hardest to back away from Michael, gritting his teeth. Michael could see him fumbling, trying to find something to defend himself with, while at the same time, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"I was pullin' you up!" Franklin coughed out, jerking his leg away and narrowly avoiding a kick from Michael.

Michael leaned down and grabbed Franklin's shirt in his hand, pulling him close. Michael glared, almost snarling.

"But you still tried to clap me, didn't you? After everything I did for you!"

Franklin tried to pull away, struggling weakly. "I-"

"Shut the fuck up." Michael shook Franklin, hitting his head against the tower.

Franklin's eyes fluttered and he was going a bit pale. Bleeding out, Michael thought. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not when a grin crept across his face.

"How does it feel to be the one about to die? I've been on that side of the stick for too long, Franklin, and you aren't going to put me there again."

"Please, Michael-"

"Fuck you, Franklin!" Michael slammed him back against the tower and Franklin yelped, coughing out a bit of blood. "I should've killed you when you stole my son's car." With another hard slam for good measure, Michael let go of Franklin and stood up. Adrenaline still pumped through his body and he wasted no time going down the ladder and getting away from the tower.

When he was at the bottom, the adrenaline started fading and was replaced by something else- curiosity. He wanted to know who had shot Franklin.

His answer came in the form of his name.

"Mikey!"

Michael's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to face the familiar voice. He thought dimly that he should've known. Who else could it had been, really?

Standing on top of his truck, still holding the sniper rifle, Trevor Phillips grinned at him.