Title: Abandoned
Author: PapayaK
Category: Hurt-Comfort, whump
Spoilers: most of Season 2
Summary: Michael left. Or did he?
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just having fun.
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Abandoned – Chapter 4
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Sam carried Michael up the stairs and into the loft. He knew now what had troubled him in the warehouse – what he hadn't had time to think about: his buddy was too light. Michael Westen was fit and strong – the man he carried was emaciated.
He laid his friend gently on the bed.
"Call Hernandez," He told Fi as he began a preliminary exam, "Hey, Mikey, Hey Buddy, wake up for me now…"
Michael's eyes opened a bit, focused on Sam, and oddly, he smiled a bit.
"Yeah - I'm happy to see you, too, Brother." His friend was in bad shape. "Fi," he called her attention to the needle marks in both arms. Mike had been drugged repeatedly. Fi cringed at the sight. There were many troubling signs of the treatment he had received, but Sam didn't find anything that was immediately life threatening.
"Fi, help me get him cleaned up."
Half an hour later, Mike was free of most of the mud and filth that had covered the floor of his cell. During the process, their patient had been in and out of consciousness. When he was aware enough to react to his surroundings, he seemed strangely calm – not at all what one would expect given the situation. Sam and Fi both noted it, but neither one addressed his mood since they were just glad to have him home and in one piece, more or less. They helped him back to bed, where he fell unconscious once again. Sam covered his friend with a light blanket and waited for the doctor.
oO0Oo
After examining and treating Michael, Hernandez turned from the side of the bed and came over to report to two very impatient people.
"You're sure we can't take him to a hospital?" He had his answer when he looked at their faces, "He should have some x-rays, a scan… my biggest concern is that there's something I can't see…"
Both gazes remained steady so he sighed and continued, "He is suffering from pretty severe malnutrition and dehydration. I have an IV in… You know how to change those?" At Sam's slight nod he continued, "I will make sure you have a supply as long as he needs it.
I'd guess they quit working him over about a month ago, give or take a few days. He has several healed and half-healed injuries that were (of course) never treated. Most show some level of infection. It's a miracle we aren't dealing with some level of sepsis.
I've taken care of what I could. Stitched up a few – bandaged the rest…
There's at least one – the burn near his right shoulder-" he pointed, "that is badly infected, I cleaned it up, and there are antibiotics in the IV that should help with that. But you'll have to monitor it closely. I'll leave dressings as that will need to be changed regularly and I'll bring more when I come back.
The arm will be a problem. His left arm was broken but never set. I have splinted it for support, for now, but he will have to have surgery on that if it's ever going to work right. It's more than I can take care of here. You understand?"
Again they nodded.
"As for the needle tracks, none of them look fresh. It's my guess that whatever they gave him, they gave him a lot of it, but they quit a while ago. I took a sample of blood that I will have tested… discreetly – don't worry. I'd guess he probably went through any withdrawal a couple weeks ago, but you'll want to watch for symptoms just in case.
Overall I have to say he is in a lot better shape than I expected given what you told me. It's a good thing he was so fit to begin with. This could have been a lot worse." He shook his head. "Anyway – keep a close eye on him. Like I said, there could be more wrong than we can see. And get him to eat. It won't be easy at first to get back to a normal diet – just…" He thought better of leaving a list of dietary needs, "You'll figure it out. For now, let him sleep. He'll sleep a lot. And he'll be very weak for a while. Make sure he doesn't try to do too much. Just walking to the bathroom is going to be like climbing a mountain for quite a while." He put the last supplies into his bag and turned to leave.
Sam stood and moved to shake his hand, "Thanks – we appreciate it."
Hernandez scoffed, "What you three did for my family? This doesn't begin to square us." He moved to the door, "Call me if you need anything."
He paused and turned back, "Oh, one more thing… You gotta realize there might-" he corrected himself "There are going to be some psychological issues here… That's outside my domain..." He saw their determined looks, knew Michael Westen was in good hands, nodded to himself and left.
Once the door closed behind him, Sam got ready to leave. Fi moved to the bedside.
"I'm gonna pick up some supplies, and take a drive around the warehouse – see what's going on there." He waggled his phone at her before dropping it in his pocket, "Call me if anything changes."
Fi nodded and watched him leave.
Then she turned and sat on the bed next to Michael. Reached up to stroke the side of his bruised face, "I'm sorry, Michael. - I'm so, so sorry. - We should have known. - We should have…"
Through her tears, she didn't realize that he was awake.
"Fi… Fi… so I lost some weight… What's the big deal?" His voice was so soft, she almost missed it.
"Michael," She took his hand and held it to her face.
His fingers stroked her cheek and he smiled gently, "You couldn't know. I left under my own power – nobody forced me into that chopper - how could you know? They caught me on the beach – after I jumped…. You couldn't have known that."
He paused to catch his breath, "I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you. - I tried… - I got out three times." He paused again. Talking was so tiring, "Never made it all the way. And then they made sure I couldn't..." He didn't elaborate.
Fi shook her head, "No. I should have trusted you. I should have-"
"Fi." He interrupted her impatiently, "Let it go. Just leave it alone this time? Just let us be together."
"This time?" she whispered to herself and frowned. What did he mean, 'this time?'
Michael was looking around, "The loft. I like the loft, but I liked Cabo better…" He looked at her suggestively.
All of a sudden, Fi had a bad feeling. Michael wasn't quite making sense.
"Michael?" She asked warily, "What do you mean by 'this time?'"
Michael smiled at her, weakly, "Usually it's the loft, or a Miami hotel- remember? But last time we were in Cabo. And the time before that I finally got to take you to Morocco." He continued mostly to himself, looking into the distance, "I always wanted to take you to Morocco..." he smiled at his memories before continuing, "I was kind of hoping to wake up in Fiji next."
"Michael," Fi was getting more and more concerned at the direction this conversation was taking, "what are you talking about? We've never been to Morocco."
Mike sighed and looked back at her, he seemed disappointed, "We've been over this – Why won't you… It's a dream, Fi; A wonderful dream. Just let it be. Please?"
"You think you're dreaming?" Hernandez had said there would be psychological issues – Fi just hadn't thought it would be like this: a denial of reality…
"I know I am. It's okay – I like it."
"Michael-"
"Fi." He interrupted, "I've been in this hole for weeks. And let's face it – I'm not getting out- not this time. These dreams are my only escape. Just let it be- please" he whispered. There was just enough pleading in his voice to break her heart.
He believed he was going to die, forgotten, in that pit. She couldn't stand it!
"You weren't conscious when we-" she breathed, "Sam and I came and got you out! You're safe! This is real," she cupped his face in her hands.
"Fi. Don't." He turned away, his voice was a bit more firm – less pleading.
"But Michael-"
His smile faded, "Don't. Please don't. Don't make me-"
"Michael, I-"
"-remember."
Fi stared at him.
"Please don't make me. Let me remember you like this…" His voice had returned to a weak whisper. He touched her face gently.
"Michael-" She started to argue further, but she stopped when his hand dropped away and she saw his features go hard. She recognized that look. She knew Michael could be a hard man when he was angry, or desperate, or terribly upset… It always frightened her just a little bit. In good times, it excited her. Now it was just scary. Scary because she didn't know if he was angry at her, or upset about whatever it was he was trying not to remember.
She spoke more gently, warily, "Michael, you're home. Why won't you believe me?"
If anything his jaw tightened further, his eyes reddened. She realized he was fighting tears.
"This… You… can't be real."
"Why not?" She probed.
"I… I watched you die..." He choked on the last word, swallowed. He sounded resigned.
He had lost the battle of trying not to see his memories.
He spoke so softly, she barely heard him. His eyes filled with tears, "They hurt you… Then they left… they left us there… you… you… died."
He looked up into her eyes intently, "I'm so sorry.
I couldn't… I was tied to the chair… I couldn't even touch you…" He swallowed, "I couldn't…" closed his eyes, turned his face away. "I saw you stop breathing. I knew you were dead when you stopped bleeding. They didn't come back until morning...
I'm sorry.
It's all my fault," He whispered, "I put all of you in danger."
She was suddenly breathless. Who were these monsters? How did they make him believe? As terrible as his physical treatment had been – the psychological was worse!
She tried to argue, but he would no longer respond to her. She stood and strode out onto the balcony, trying to get her anger under control.
She was still there when Sam returned.
Sam, oblivious to the situation, quietly crossed to the balcony after setting the groceries on the bar. "The warehouse is deserted. I think they-" Her tension registered, "Fi?"
She turned to him, "I upset Michael."
"Fi!" he scolded. "You can't-"
She turned on him, interrupting, "He thinks this is a dream," she said gesturing at the loft, "He won't believe I'm real… He believes he's still in that pit and he's going to die there," she paused to swallow, "Apparently… he watched me die." Her voice faded to a whisper on the last word.
Both were quiet as they considered the implications.
"How can that be, Sam? How can they…?"
Sam shook his head sadly. Fi was sometimes Michael's connection to life and light – the only thing that kept him from going darkside. He didn't know if either of them even realized it.
These monsters had taken her from him and made him watch while they did it.
Sam did not say what he was thinking: 'Could a man come back from something like that? He didn't think he could, but he wasn't Michael Westen.' Then he realized Fi had asked him a question.
"It's possible… Take someone with the same body type and hair – mess up their face, or put on some kind of mask – gag them – Especially if he was drugged at the time – he'd believe."
Fi was speechless.
Sam continued, once again choosing actions over reflection, "I'll make a call to some of my buddies in the police – they would have had to dump the body… It might help to have proof when we try to convince Mikey he's really here."
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When Sam returned, hours later, Mike was asleep and Fi was again leaning on the balcony rail, staring at nothing. He grabbed a beer and joined her. "Got some crime scene photos."
She didn't respond.
"More than one crime scene."
At that, she did turn and look at him questioningly.
"There was a young, illegal, Cuban girl – your size – your hair. No family that we can tell. Found her body in the everglades.
And that's not all…" he sighed deeply, "they also discovered the body of a 50 year old divorced guy – homeless drunk. But I'll let you guess his body type…"
Her eyes widened.
"Yeah. You and me, sister. They forced Mikey to watch as they tortured and killed both of 'us,'" wagging his finger back and forth between them. He said the words harshly. Knew she didn't like to hear it, but they had to face this thing head on if they were going to help Mike.
She turned back to stare across the water, so he tightened his grip on his beer and strode over to the bed, grabbing the photos on the way.
"Hey, Buddy." He spoke loud enough to wake his friend. Mike opened his eyes and smiled again. Now Sam knew what the smile was for. He braced himself, he didn't want to hurt Mike, but he had to.
He sat, "This isn't a dream anymore, Mikey. Fi's right. You're safe."
Fiona turned from the balcony to watch. She acted annoyed with Sam often, but she knew he was a good man – one of the best. She saw it again now as he leaned in toward their injured friend, speaking earnestly and as kindly as possible. She saw Michael turn away again, but Sam wouldn't let him, pulling out the crime scene photos, explaining and coaxing him to look and believe.
She hated this: Michael being turned inside out and having to watch while it happened. But she hated the Russians more.
She saw Michael reach out and grab Sam's arm, gripping it tightly. The older man put his own hand over Mike's and patted it. Sam looked over at her and nodded. She joined him, sitting on the other side of the bed.
She hated seeing the tears that streaked Michael's cheeks – this wasn't him! This was so unlike the man she loved it broke her heart.
"Fi?" he whispered to her.
She crawled into bed next to him and held him as he clung to her.
Sam rose and strode to the balcony giving them some privacy.
Two beers later Fi joined him. "He's asleep again."
Sam nodded, "Sorry about that, but he'll come back now."
Fi nodded her agreement. They were quiet for a bit.
"It wasn't just us." She shared with Sam what Michael had admitted before he drifted off, "He told me they showed him pictures of Madeline's house, burned."
Sam closed his eyes.
"Then they showed him photos of Madeline and Nate's gravestones."
Sam swore. "They took everyone from him. Everyone he cared about. And made him believe it was all him- his fault for putting us in danger." He paused, "Does he believe the photos were faked?"
"I think so, but I also think it's time we called Madeline."
Sam nodded, but looked out at the starry sky, "It's late. We'll call her first thing in the morning. I'll take the couch."
"Sam…" She asked as he turned away, "What did they want from him? What does he know that would require this kind of persuasion? What does he know that he would let them kill us for?"
Sam just looked at her, "Mikey's got a head full of secrets, Fi. You should know that by now." He shook his head, "Whatever it was – Either he really didn't know – which I doubt- or telling would have cost a lot of lives, a lot of lives. It had to be worth more than just the five of us."
Sam turned and headed up the stairs for a few hours of sleep. As he left, the conversation she'd had with Michael on Victor's boat came to Fiona's mind:
"Who knew you could feel this bad for a psychopath on the edge of sanity?" she had asked him.
"People don't get there on their own, Fi. Being under Carla's thumb- it's a strain."
"Well, you've done all right."
"I never lost everyone I cared about…"
They had made Michael believe he had lost everyone he cared about.
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tbc…
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