So sorry for the delay guys, I've been having major computer problems and just lost all my files, which majorly sucked.

But everything's better now and I should start to post regularly again. Anyways enough of my rambling, this is one of my favorite chapters, so hopefully you like it too!

Pieces Of Time

"Good to see you Westen, didn't think it would be this soon though." Michael sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Me too Max. How are you?"

Max flashed a bright white smile and shrugged. "About as good as I can be considering." Michael nodded and pursed his lips, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his swim trunks and waited for Max to say something. As if on cue the other man gave a knowing smile and once again their surroundings melted together and Michael found himself standing in a huge ballroom, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a domed ceiling with a skylight in the middle.

When Michael looked at himself he was wearing a black tuxedo with a crisp white t-shirt underneath and a black bowtie. He smirked and glanced at Max, whose outfit closely resembled his and Michael was reminded of all the missions and undercover work he and Max had done. He raised his arms slightly before letting them fall limply to his sides.

"Do you miss it?" He asked suddenly, his voice echoing throughout the empty room. Max shrugged and picked up a glass of champagne Michael could have sworn was not there just moments ago. He accepted the one Max offered him, surprised that he could still feel the bubbly liquid as it slid down his throat.

"Sometimes when I'm watching you kick someone's ass, or rescuing someone who really needs it, I wish I could be there. It's hard not being able to do the things you normally did with the people you're so used to seeing, and I'm not sugar coating it either…" Max's voice drifted off and Michael gripped the stem of his glass tightly, his jaw clenched.

"Well then fi you're not sugar coating it, then I guess I'll go ahead and ask. Does it get easier?" Max considered the question, twirling his glass in his fingers before setting it down and giving Michael a sad smile.

"No not really, but I haven't been here as long as some so I guess I can't give you a real answer. But I can tell you that I miss my wife, and I miss being able to laugh with my friends." There was a pause and Max's face suddenly lit up.

"That reminds me, our lesson deals with the importance of friendship. And everyone that watches you knows that your best friend is the infamous Sam Axe." Michael swallowed the lump that had suddenly become lodged in his throat at the mention of his friend's name. After being given a moment to recover he turned back to Max who offered him another glass of champagne, which he politely declined.

"Alright then," Max said, sitting down in a chair that appeared next to their small table. As Michael looked around he found another one and took a seat as well.

"Do you remember the first mission you ever worked with Sam?" The question, to Michael, seemed utterly ridiculous. Of course he remembered, it had been one of the best, not to mention hardest missions he had ever worked.

…

It was a hot day, that much he remembered well. There was a sheen of sweat covering his skin and he tugged at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to cool himself. He took another sip of his iced tea as voices and footsteps approached him quickly. He looked up and saw Roger White, an operative he had met a few times and had recently been contacted by for help on an assignment in Russia. With him was a man maybe a few inches shorter than himself and obviously older, with dark brown hair that was beginning to grey on the sides. Michael had never seen him before.

He stood up and shook roger's hand then let his eyes do a once over on the man next to him. He seemed to be in fairly decent shape, with a broad chest and toned biceps that bugled beneath his blue button up.

"Sam Axe," the man said, offering Michael a calloused hand that he took and shook politely.

"Michael Westen," he said back, only to be answered by a fit of laughter and a slap on the back, both of which had him glowering at the older man.

"Oh trust me brother, I know who you are. Michael Westen," he stretched out his hands and waved his fingers, speaking in a deep and obviously forced voice. "Man, you're nothing but a legend in most countries." Sam laughed again and Michael grit his teeth in annoyance. Roger, apparently sensing the tension, put a hand on Michael's shoulder and led him a few feet away, leaning in closer to insure their conversation was not overheard.

"Listen Michael, I know you're ready to tell me you're not working with that clown, but Axe knows as much about this mission as any expert and it'll be good to have him on your side when you go in." roger's voice sounded almost as if he was pleading with Michael, and as much as he wanted to protest he knew there was no way he could turn this mission down.

"Fine, but he plays by my rules. I'm the operative, not him." Roger shook his head and smiled gratefully, before walking back to Sam and whispering something in his ear. A moment later he walked over to Michael and slapped him on the back once more.

"Looks like you and me are getting an early start brother, better head home and pack." Michael bit back a retort and watched Sam walk away towards the bar, sweet talking the waitress with a sly grin on his face. Michael could tell this would not end well.

…

"God, I thought he was going to be the death of me then," Michael said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. Max laughed to and nudged Michael with his elbow.

"Kind of like me when I found out I was assigned to babysit you." Michael nudged him back with a smile and then sighed.

"I wish I had known how much I would need him then. He saved both our asses."

…

Almost two days later both Sam and Michael were driving through the crowded streets of a small Russian city with just enough people to make him uncomfortable, Sam chattering animatedly while Michael gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

"So then, I tell her-"

"Could you cut the talking down a little? It's hard to concentrate when all you do is talk about women." Michael finally snapped, his face beginning to redden. Sam pursed his lips in obvious anger and slumped back in his seat.

"You know, I'm not too happy about working with an agent who has no idea when enough is enough, so don't go thinking that you're alone in this. I can tell you don't like me and I can also tell ya, when Roger told me I was working with "The Michael Westen," I had half a mind to get up and walk away right there." Michael was fuming by now, his knuckles impossibly white as they held onto the wheel.

"Why didn't you? Afraid you'd be considered a failure by me too?" Sam's head whipped around so fast Michael wondered how it didn't give him whiplash.

"That's right," Michael said, "I called around about you and I know no one can take you seriously anymore." Sam's hands clenched into fists and for a moment Michael thought he might take a swing.

"I don't care what you have to think of me, I took this mission because a friend asked for my help and there was no way I was gonna turn him down just because he wanted to pair me with a psycho agent!" By now both men had reached their wits end and Michael brought the car to a sudden stop ignoring the cacophony of horns and angry voices behind him.

"Get out," he said, his voice dangerously low and shaking with anger. Sam looked baffled, his blue eyes widening.

"What?"

"Get out," Michael said again, louder than before but with some of the control he had regained form earlier. "I told Roger you either play by my rules or you're done." Sam shook his head in disbelief, throwing the door opening and stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk, watching helplessly as Michael sped away without so much as a second glance. Unbelievable.

…

"Wow, looks like you to were at each other's throats in the beginning," Max commented, stretching lazily. Michael nodded sadly, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, it was bad. I never did forgive myself for doing that, but he sure did." He shrugged his shoulders and Max gave his hand a sympathetic pat.

"What's done is done Westen, you can't change the past." Michael sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.

…

It had been nearly four hours since the incident with Sam and Michael was beginning to regret his actions. He had never deserted anyone on a mission, regardless of the words they had shared. He glanced at the small phone on the table and contemplated calling Sam; just to be sure he was alright.

After a few seconds Michael shook his head and went back to his task at hand, trying to pick up on the conversation next door, so he knew exactly when he needed to go in and get the computer and flash drive Roger had sent him for. He knew this would be easier with help, that way one of them could make the approach and the other could provide backup, but now he was on his own and he had to be ready.

Stripping out of his suit and black dress shoes, Michael pulled on a white polo, almost identical to what the hotel staff wore and a pair of khaki shorts and tennis shoes. He tucked a small gun in the waistband and grabbed the stack of white towels from his bathroom. Deep breaths, he thought. It'll all be over soon.

Michael slipped into the hallway and carefully checked no one was coming, and then approached the door of his intended target. He knocked on the door three times as he plastered a much too cheerful smile on his face. He could hear shuffling inside and a moment later the door cracked slightly and Michael was met by a man probably in his early thirties with curly black hair and a scar on his left cheek, the skin still gnarled and pink.

"Hello, I brought you some more towels," Michael said in a thick, Russian accent, holding out the towels for inspection. As the man came to the realization that the only thing Michael had with him were towels, he opened the door wider to take them and as he did Michael made his move.

He pushed the man back, his back colliding with the wall and causing a loud thump. The man yelled and Michael landed a punch and knocked him out, unwilling to cause any major damage. As soon as the first man went down, two more appeared from around the corner, yelling and running towards him with angry expressions. The first one was able to land a blow to michael's ribcage, knocking the wind out of him. He managed to grab a lamp from the dresser and with one blow, sent him to the floor as well.

Straightening up he whirled around, ready for the next round but as he did he felt a sharp impact at the base of his skull and his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. It was only a matter of seconds before the world around him turned to blackness.

…

"Oh, that had to suck," Max said, twirling his gold wedding ring around on his finger. He couldn't hide the smile on his face, and Michael nudged him again as his cheeks flushed red.

"Give me a break," he said, "I wasn't completely ready and I had no backup!" Max smirked.

"That's because you left your backup on the side of the road. When does good 'ol Sammy come back into this picture anyways?"

"Soon," Michael said.

…

The next morning Sam was more than ready to head home and get out of Russia. When you're not on a mission for the government it can be a beautiful place, but when abandoned on the side of the road with nothing but a few us dollars and a change of clothes, that view quickly changes. He was waiting outside the hotel Michael was supposed to be meeting him at, but so far the other man was ten minutes late. Very unlike a spy, he thought to himself. Deciding he had had enough waiting he went inside, smiling kindly at the older woman at the front desk.

"Hi, I was wondering if you've seen a man about this high with dark brown hair, probably wearing sunglasses?" the woman thought for a moment before her face lit up with recognition at Sam's description of Michael.

"Yes, I saw him last night, but he didn't answer this morning when housekeeping came. I can give you a key if you need to speak with him." Sam smiled widely and nodded.

"That would be great," he said. Almost five minutes later Sam was outside Michael's door, key in hand. He slid the key in the door and when the light flashed he pushed it open and saw an empty room. At first panic gripped him and Sam wondered if he should call someone, but decided against it before stepping out into the hallway.

Out there he could hear muffled, raised voices coming from the room next door and he pressed his ear against the door to get a better listen. His Russian was a little rusty but he knew enough to make out a bit of what was being said.

"-American spy.. Kill him.." Sam's blood ran cold and he knew they were talking about Michael, no wonder he hadn't met him down stairs. He paced the floor for a minute, freezing in his place when a thought suddenly entered his mind.

…

"Oh, come on. You can't leave me hanging," Max whined, fumbling with the tie around his neck. Michael wanted to laugh, but something was bothering him. Max seemed to notice and his expression softened.

"Michael, you cannot let the past eat at you like that. What you did was wrong, but how many times have you saved Sam's butt on a job or a mission?" Michael sighed in defeat, he knew Max was right but he still couldn't fight off the regret he felt.

"You don't understand," he said, "I never told Sam I was sorry for leaving him and now I never can." He blew out a puff of air and stood up.

"Mike, sit down. There are things none of got to say before we left and at first you think the guilt is going to tear you apart, but over time you realize that they don't care about things that happen in the past, they only care about you and all the good times they got to spend with you." He pat Michael's back and sat back in his chair.

"Now, I think you were just getting to the good part."

…

Taking a deep breath Sam stood outside the Russians room, his hair rumpled and the reek of alcohol coming from his clothes. All part of the plan. With one hand he knocked loudly, yelling something incoherent. The door opened and the man with the scar, now accompanied by a black eye, fixed him with a cold stare.

"Hey you," Sam said, his voice slurring and one of his fingers shoved right in the man's face, "I'll have you know, I don't appreciate you talking to my wife last night. I saw the googly eyes you were giving her." The Russian drew back with a confused and frustrated groan; apparently this wasn't the first time he had to deal with a drunken tourist.

"I did not look at your wife. Now leave," he hissed, attempting to close the door with little success as Sam blocked it with his foot.

"Now, don't think you're getting off that easy.." he leaned forward and just as the man was ready to slam the door Sam pulled a handgun from his pants and pointed it right at him.

"I think you have something I want," he said in a suddenly sober voice. "And we're going to trade you for him."

Pulling the scarred man out of the room Sam kept the gun buried in his ribcage before marching him down to the lobby, waving kindly at the woman at the front desk. Outside Sam shoved the man into the passenger's seat of his car and dug out a zip tie, something he knew Michael would have around. He tied the man's hands together and tossed his cellphone onto his lap.

"Now, what's your name?" he asked, receiving nothing but silence as a response. He shoved the gun deeper into the man's ribcage, flipping off the safety.

"Ivan," the man finally growled, and Sam drew the gun back slightly.

"Alright the Ivan, dial your boss's number for me. The two of us need to have a little chat."

Less than twenty minutes later, with no help from his captive, Sam pulled off the dirt road they had been driving on and put the car in park. Yanking Ivan from his seat he marched the man to the middle of the road, just as another dark car with tinted windows pulled up in front of them.

The first one to step out was who Sam assumed was the leader of the group, a man of about forty with dark hair like Ivan's but shaved down and a thin layer of stubble on his neck and around his mouth. After him was a man who was almost identical to Ivan, but a little shorter with boyish features. Probably brothers, he assumed. And lastly there was Michael, who had blood drying in his dark hair from a gash above his eyebrow and a split lip. Holding Ivan tightly around the arm Sam stepped forward, pulling out the gun once more for emphasis.

"Well, glad to see you keep your promises," he said in a booming voice, trying to get a better look at Michael in order to asses he damage done to him. When their eyes met Sam nodded towards the gun tucked in the younger man's waistband and Michael nodded back. The older man stepped forward, holding his hands up and speaking in a calm voice.

"I think you are mistaken," he said, "we do not wish to hurt your friend, we simply want Ivan back and in exchange you and your American friend are free to go." Sam knew the man was bluffing, but he played along and smiled.

"Well isn't that good to hear," he chuckled, waving the gun slightly. "I was beginning to think we were going to have to start shooting."

As if on cue Michael ripped the gun from the young man's pants and held it in his face, while Sam did the same to Ivan. When the leader pulled his weapon out Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Uh-uh, you shoot either one of us then both your men are dead. You wouldn't want that would you?" Sam asked with a smug smile. Growling in defeat, the leader lowered his weapon and turned to Michael, "Go, get out of my sight or I will not hesitate to kill you."

Backing away Michael kept his gun poised and joined Sam on the other side, slipping into the passenger's seat as the car sped off. Michael leaned his head back and Sam looked at him worriedly.

"You alright brother?" Michael groaned but managed a nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine.. Thanks." Sam smiled and slapped Michael on the back.

"No problem brother, I'm sorry we didn't get the flash drive though." He heard Michael laugh and saw a slender black object clutched in his hand. A smile broke out on Sam's face and he laughed too.

"Well I'll be damned; I guess we make a pretty good team eh?" Michael raised his eyebrows but managed a smile.

"Whatever you say Sam."

…

"Now that was a story," Max said, standing up and stretching. Michael nodded and took off his bowtie, suddenly feeling as if it were suffocating him.

"Yeah, Sam's a great friend and that mission wouldn't have had a shot in hell without him." Max nodded and the two men walked to the end of the room and through a large metal door, outside into the warm summer air.

"I'm glad I got to see you Michael, and I appreciate you finding my killer. I know my wife is grateful to you as well." The two shook hands and just like clockwork Max disappeared and Michael was left alone. He walked to the large fountain just a few feet away and sat on the edge, staring at his reflection in the clear water.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Michael Westen. I was beginning to think we'd never see each other." Michael recognized the voice without looking, and a feeling of absolute joy filled him. The man sat down next to him and Michael wrapped him in a hug, holding on tightly.

"Me too Andre, it's been way too long."