Chapter XIII
Churches never were or have been Michael's forte. For just this once, he made an exception to be more than accommodating. There had been several measures put into place to assure Sasha's secure location in the short time span provided. Since the Vercetti Dinner Party, a week had passed by in a blink of an eye. Michael had been in great favor of the Vercettis since putting his quick thoughts into action.
Sasha was hospitalized at The Bay Care Center in Paleto Bay. Being that it was her preferred place of sanctuary. A place where she could recover and drop off the map until then made things easy. Today things had to change. Today the Vercetti Family would be allowed entrance so that they might know of Sasha's overall condition. Marcello had finally contacted Michael after such a long period of silence.
St. Brigid Baptist Church had been an alternative to meet under their circumstances. It was better than leading Marcello directly to Sasha's Procopio Home. Even if they were family. There was a feeling of unease, maybe even ridicule if Sasha discovered that anyone outside of those she trusted. Michael learned the first time around that faithful night's lecture.
Arranging the meet-up wasn't that hard, nor was there headbutting. Keeping needed details at a minimum was a necessity. With all concerning parties, safety and low profile were a must. That was a mutual, but beneficial understanding.
Anticipating Marcello's arrival, Michael himself had felt himself a little more than "just over the edge". Some would even consider or label him paranoid. Setting into the public bench in the West Side Courtyard, Michael had leaned into his body and knees. Staring down at both of his hands, there had been flashes of what happened that night at the Dinner Party. Flashes of cradling Sasha in his arms. Even of her blood staining his formal suit. All of which had haunted Michael's traumatized brain.
Michael struggled with greater effort to attempt to erase those images from his mind. He had tensed, balling his hands into tight fists. Anger and regret fogged his mind. "I failed myself. Failed protecting you as your bodyguard." Michael had wanted anything and everything to improve himself as Sasha's Personal Bodyguard. He solemnly vowed to do better, get better and proved himself of worth.
Footsteps of Marcello's arrival startled Michael enough to catch him off guard. It had been Marcello's presence alone that made Michael almost leap to conclusions, having instinctively reached for his handgun with his right hand only to ease off to meet the gaze of his company. "Tommy gives his thanks, Michael. Without your swift action, We're almost certain that Sasha would have perished under Aldrick's reign. Sasha had great faith placing her trust-"
"What took place could have been prevented, Marcello. Sasha was still shot-"
"Nothing completely worked in our favor Michael-"
"Sasha would have been safe if-"
"Even Tommy was injured. No one was secure-"
"If Tommy hadn't shot Aldrick, I could have taken him out. I had a clear shot! I would have blown his head off the man's shoulders!"
Marcello showed visible frustration and impatience. "God damn it, Mikey. Shut up and listen. You're pretty damn good at that." The mere mention of that nickname alone stalled Michael's thought process. Like a rite of passage, Michael knew that sort of nickname meant there had been an established trust. Marcello most definitely had more confidence in Michael than himself.
Marcello had nested himself next to Michael. Welcoming himself further inside Michael's anxiety fulled environment. The each of them had relaxed a little. Front facing without making eye contact. Michael kept his position on his knees while Marcello stretched out is right arm and leaned back into the bench itself. "Simply put... the night of the dinner party was a disaster. We had made great effort to foresee every course of action except one. His plans for casing the joint wasn't even on his agenda. Sure, he had still acquired John Martson's legacy, but through force. Alrick himself was impatient enough waiting."
"So he shot his primary interest? Is that why he shot Sasha?" Michael had inquired. Wanting answers more than anything. This meant better preparations for Sasha's well being.
"No, Michael. That's what I initially thought myself. We're both wrong." It was that very phrase that turned Michael's head in Marcello's direction. "Neither of us saw what took place that moment gunfire broke out." Marcello continued. "We both know that Tommy, like you, had been equipped with a bullet-proofed vest." He had draped his left hand over his face. "After the first shot, Sasha had instinctively shield herself in front of Tommy. Becoming a human barrier between him and the henchmen Aldrick hired. There had been an amateur sniper among their group."
"An amateur sniper?" Michael questioned to himself.
Marcello gave a nod of acknowledgement. "I wish I could tell you that we all assumed that it was Sasha that was the ultimate target, but Tommy was the one who Aldrick sought. We all failed such a simple task. That we all believed that Sasha was the one placed into direct danger. The timing was wrong. Discoveries were made. You even got involved."
"I feel like there's something missing overall in what you're explaining to me. What am I missing here, Marcello? What aren't you explaining to me?"
"Tommy was certain that Aldrick could have been eliminated that night of the ambush. Luckily enough I was the only one left unscathed. Crawford grew heavily impatient knowing that he knew of your betrayal and your duties as Sasha's Bodyguard. Tommy is firmly believing that Aldrick may have been put under pressure by his merchants. It had been unpreventable. We were still raided. We even lost John Marston's Legacy."
Michael freeing a stir of emotions, stood on his feet and began pacing. "That fucking bastard. I HAD a clear shot, Marcello. I could have eliminated him myself. Hearing from the lot of you that Crawford survived just pisses me off. That legacy... that legacy was worth more-"
"We're taking the responsibility, Mikey. Even with our precautions, we still failed... or were you deaf when I first mentioned that? We'll get back Marston's Heirlooms. You have your orders. Your primary objective hasn't changed. Sasha should be your top priority. Is she not?"
"What's the condition of out party? What of Tommy?"
"He took a few shots. Not as fatal as Sasha. That one's for certain. I know him though. Tommy will bounce back into action soon enough. None of this has slowed him down from what I capable to observe. Everything is being handled properly."
"Sometimes doing all we can do with what's available to us is better than doing nothing at all."
"How is she, Michael?" There had been a stern look of momentary confusion. "Sasha, Mikey. How is my kid sister? Has she been recovering?"
Michael briskly nodded. Having stopped pacing, gave Marcello his full attention, and crossed his arms. "They said that Sasha is very much capable of a full recovery. She's stable. Lost quite a bit of blood. For now it's the waiting game. Kid's been sleeping a lot while in stasis."
"Tommy will be relieved to hear that, Michael. We've all had our share of bad news." Marcello explained, getting on his own feet and concluding their meeting. "Keep a low profile. Time is in our favor. That's what Tommy is convinced. There will be an arranged hour of reunion. For now..." He placed his left hand on Michael's right shoulder, gripping him tight. "You can do me the greatest favor one could ask for, please. Take care of my kid sister. She means the world to all of us. We're all counting on you."
Marcello departed back towards has car which had been what Michael could notice was an Itali GTO. Family car perhaps? Knowing that Marcello's primary business was outside of Las Santos, the GTO was more than likely from someone inside the family.
Distracting his thoughts, Michael leaned into the tree that was behind him. Low profile meant he needed to assure no one had been eavesdropping or wasn't minding their own business in this crucial time. Michael had remained vigilant. Observing any stragglers while counting the minutes on his smart phone. The chime of St. Brigid's Church Bell had synced.
High noon. 2 P.M. at last arrived.
Keeping close observation on a final passerby, Michael slipped outside of St. Brigid's Courtyard. Jogging across the street making every attempt possible not to bring attention to himself. Michael pulled open The Bay's Care Center Doors. Breezing passed the staff members and those inside the waiting room brought much needed preoccupation among the masses.
Doctors were hard at work assuring loved ones would survive was a unified goal. Patients and those who hoped for a better tomorrow. Had it all been too demanding? Reaching Sasha's hospital room, Michael took a second glance around the hallway. Securing that no one would follow him inside.
Michael had yet to adjust to the setting of his new reality. Like a guardian angel watching over his loved ones. The best result was that Sasha was stable. Practically sleeping her days away until she could function without her provided oxygen mask. The scene greatly upset Michael. Although with every passing day there had been hope festering in the back of his mind knowing of her improvements.
In the silence where the heart rate monitor was the only sound echoing in the room, Michael had settled himself to the closest lounge chair just next to Sasha. Even with uncertain clarity. Just being in Sasha's presence was enough to allure Michael back into a state of unbridled exhaustion. His body positioned enough to allow his head to drop should he catch some necessary rest.
Lightly breathing in the silence. Michael felt himself wrapped in the secured environment like a warm ray of sunlight through the cracks of shadows surrounding the both of them. Thus causing him to drift into a semi-conscious state riddled with worry and anxiety. Melting away, all that had been given to Michael had become a small gateway.
The nightmares that plagued Michael's mind when having this opportunity were loathed. It had consumed him like a form of PTSD. Every small repeat. Every small detail that he could remember that night. Like a broken record. Ending in Sasha's shocked and lifeless eyes staring back into his soul. Every night the dream had extended itself like a corridor of a basement. Wrapping, twisting and turning. There had been no escape.
The sound of shattered glass had jolted Michael awake from the nightmare. There, by his side, had been Sasha. Quietly breathing. He felt the racing pulse through his neck and almost bursting out of his chest. Michael did all he could to calm himself down. Even going as far as breathing just through his nose for a time.
Attempting to ease his waking nightmare, Michael compartmentalized. Realizing that he routinely suffered from for now had been the same dream. Pulling out his smartphone, Michael took notice that a familiar number had called him. The contact that he highlighted caught his attention. The Caller ID showed Franklin Clinton.
Michael hesitated to dial back Franklin at first. Knowing well that all his shenanigans outside of Lester had been restricted. What if Lester made a mistake? Having told Franklin. Michael could use an extra hand. There had been no excuses. Dropping his phone to first give Sasha some of his attention, Michael kissed her forehead. She lightly shifted, feeling his touch.
Excusing himself to call back Franklin, Michael made his way to a more open area-like waiting room where doctors, patients and other patrolled. "Hey Michael, what's crackin'? Haven't heard from you in awhile. How's it going?"
"Hey, Frank. Uh... L-Look..." Michael struggled to explain his situation, but it had to be done. Michael needed the help. "I guess it would be too much to ask or even consider your help? I feel like what I've been way over my head. Overwhelmed. Would that be the word? I don't know really. All of what I've been through..." Michael rubbed his temple with his left hand. "All of this has been completely fucked. I don't know, man."
"Slow down, Michael. Slow down. Just tell me where you are. I'll meet you there, dog."
Michael lowered his guard, sighing of relief. "Yeah, uh." He trailed, doing his best to remember the details. "I'm at the hospital in Paleto Bay. You know... The Bay Care Center in Paleto Bay? Can't miss it."
"No problem, man. It's going to be a bit of a drive, but that won't be a problem. I'll see you there... say an hour tops?"
"Thanks, Franklin. I owe you one."
Taking the phone away from his ear, Michael felt wet tears dripping from his face. Had he been crying? Drying his tears with his right hand, he trembled. Maybe trying to get others involved made him altogether terrified? What if something could happen to Franklin as well? Michael had to fess unto himself. Pride and worry couldn't stop him from acknowledging that it took a village to assist one another out of complexity.
The only true "no deal" was directly contacting Trevor Philips. Trevor was an unhinged man untrustworthy to a case this sensitive. If Trevor were to ever step foot in Sasha's private sanctuary... Michael shook his head, eradicating himself of such thoughts. The farther away Trevor was from Sasha. The better.