Chapter 25

Barnsdale had just entered the clinic when the gunfire began. His first instinct was to rush to Michael's room, but then thought better of it. Walking into a room containing Michael Westen, not to mention Michael Westen's mother, on any given day required, at a minimum, caution. Walking in on a wounded Michael Westen and his mother whilst a gun battle raged outside would be nothing short of suicide. No. He'd live longer if he stayed put. Ducking into a side storage room just inside the main door, he found a reasonably good hiding place and killed the lights, waiting and listening for an opportunity to help, but keeping out of the way and alive in the meantime.

Outside Sam and Fiona continued to make their way around and behind Larry's goons, waiting for each other to get into position. Checking his watch, Sam waited another thirty seconds, and then using the scope rifle found a target and fired. The figure pitched backward onto the grass and lay still.

At the same time Fiona opened fire from her position, though her weapons did not have the same long range kill power afforded to the scope rifle. Still, the flash and boom/bang of the shotgun and pistol was more than effective enough to move their plan forward and drive what was left of Larry's men toward the remaining bomb. Within seconds another explosion filled the air. It was the last of the explosives, but Fiona's grand finale had managed to take out another enemy.

If Sam was right, they were now down to only four hostiles. Picking up on another target, Sam fired a second round and one more figure spun around and fell dead to the ground. They were now down to three. But where were those three? Sam scanned the area with the night scope of his rifle, seeing only Fiona. He watched as she inspected and then tossed away an apparently damaged handgun liberated from one of the downed goons. She was also missing her shotgun. He assumed she left it after the shells were gone. Making his way closer to her position, he called out quietly, not wanting to be mistaken for a target or give their position away.

"It's Sam. I'm comin' in," he hissed. "You got eyes on anyone?" he asked as they joined up.

"No," she responded, and they both turned and looked toward the clinic.

And it was all the opportunity Larry's new Number One Minion needed. Robert Fletcher, aka New Minion One, stepped out of the shadows. He'd hung back until now, biding his time, sending his men in before him, just as Larry had done. He'd watched as they were picked off one by one, and waited for the opportunity he knew would eventually come. And come it did. In the moment it took for Sam and Fiona to turn their attention back from the clinic, he was standing before them. His automatic weapon raised, he had the safety off, and his finger resting on the trigger.

"Bob," Sam nodded, feigning calm casualness, recognizing the man instantly.

"Samuel," he responded, nodding back, but not lowering his gun.

"You know him?" Fiona asked incredulously.

"We ran into each other a time or two," Sam said dryly, "Back in the day."

"Ah, yes," Bob tsked. "Samuel has put a damper on more than one of my past… endeavors," he replied.

"So, now you're what… just a psycho for hire?" Sam asked. "Slipped a bit on the food chain, haven't you?"

Bob flinched at the comment, frowning, "My employer gave specific instructions I was to bring you to him alive," he said, "but accidents do happen, Samuel. I'd watch my manners if I were you," he warned, and raised the gun a little higher. Then he looked to Fiona and smiled. "Pity," he said, but there was anything but pity in his voice. "My employer left no such instructions concerning you."

And in that instant Sam understood the meaning of his words. And in that same instant Sam stepped between the gun and Fiona as Bob pulled the trigger.

Several rounds of automatic fire ripped across Sam's chest and shoulder spinning him around and driving him to the ground. Astounded at the turn of events, Bob simply shook his head in disbelief as he watched Sam take the rounds intended for the woman. He was even more surprised when he looked back to Fiona again and found himself staring down the barrel of her handgun. "For Sam," she said simply, and pulled the trigger.

"Fiona!" a voice called out from the darkness. It was Barnsdale, approaching quickly, shotgun in hand. He'd heard commotion close to the clinic and had crept to the door, looking out just in time to see one of Larry's men get the drop on Fiona and Sam. He'd tried to get into range with the shotgun, but it had happened too fast. By the time he was close enough, it was all over. Running up he found Bob lying dead on the ground at Fiona's feet. It was clear without checking he'd not be bothering anyone again. Sam was a few feet further away, face down, not moving.

Rushing to his side, Fiona and Barnsdale gently rolled their friend over onto his back. "Oh, Sam," Fiona's voice quivered as Barnsdale tore open Sam's bloody shirt.

Inside the clinic Michael watched helplessly as his mother lay unconscious and bleeding on the floor. I'll kill you for this, he had said to Larry. And Larry had rejoiced, even calling him son.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Michael attempted to buy time… and also remain upright. He was beginning to see spots dance before his eyes. Gripping the edge of the table for balance he glared at Larry. "Why?" he asked. "Why all this? This couldn't have all been about Sam."

"He killed my friend."

"What friend?" Michael asked. "You have no friends, Larry."

"Okay, well… more of an acquaintance," Larry admitted. "A very wealthy acquaintance. You knew him as Hans Wilhelm."

"Hans Wi…" Michael stopped mid sentence, truly surprised. "You're telling me you knew Wilhelm. You were there. In East Germany… back in '84," he said skeptically.

"Like I said, he killed my friend."

"He killed an unrepentant murdering tyrant who'd done unspeakable things to innocents."

"Minor Details," Larry shrugged. "He was still my friend. At least until he paid me," he added, "Which, by the way, he never got a chance to do, thanks to Axe. People don't cross me, Michael. They don't cross me and they don't cost me money. You of all people should know that. Axe cost me a lot of money." Then he added, "He also cost me you."

"And now we finally get to the truth," Michael said.

"He ruined you, Michael. I had plans for you. Big plans," he said. "We were like Butch and Sundance, you and me. Until Axe got hold of you."

~When you are a spy, you come to realize there is often a grain of truth hidden in every lie. Finally seeing that truth… and coming face to face with yourself, can be a scary and difficult thing to accept.~

While Larry might have been the devil on Michael's shoulder, Sam had become the angel on the other side, albeit a somewhat tarnished one. Sam was Michael's voice of reason, Larry the voice of madness. When Michael began working with Sam, the older man had reined him in, pointing out the dangers of everything Larry, and reminding Michael of what he was doing and why he was doing it. Michael was a patriot. And patriots, though sometimes forced to live in the shadows to do the job, always reached for the light. Michael had drifted too far into the dark world of Larry. And the truth was a small part of him had lived there, accepted it, and even enjoyed the freedom that came with it. But Sam had reached in and pulled Michael back. And Michael had seen the light and reached back toward it, leaving the darkness behind and Larry to his own demons.

"You were like the son I never had," Larry continued. "I'd have given you everything, Michael. …Did give you everything. You were my protégé," he said, and there was true sadness in his voice. "I wanted you back, Michael. I realize now it's too late."

"Larry," Michael said evenly, "You don't have to do this. Just walk away. It's not too late."

Larry shook his head. "I've seen the real Michael Westen. You were great, once. You were just like me."

"I was never just like you, Larry."

"But you could have been," Larry said, and then heaved a sigh. "But now you simply bore me, Michael." And Larry raised his gun a bit higher. "I was going to wait and kill that chucklehead Sam and your skinny little girlfriend first but I've wasted enough time. They're probably already dead, anyway," he shrugged. "My men aren't known for their self control." And then as an afterthought smiled and added, "It's a feature, actually." Then locking eyes with Michael, "It's been nice knowing you, kid," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "But now it's time to die." And the shot echoed through the small room…

A/N: Oh I am just getting so BAD in my old age! LOL! I'm sorry, boys and girls. I just couldn't help myself! Thank you to all who take the time to review. Thank you also to those who add this story to their "favorites." I see you and thank you. Please do consider taking the time to also post a review. It means a lot!

Oh! And thanks for all the suggestions re the "name the minion" request. The most requests were for BOB so I went with that! :0)