Burn Notice - The Man He Is
A/N: Here is chapter 2! I'll be posting a chapter every day :)
Stumbling back, he caught his balance and just managed to dodge another punch.
"Jesse! Wait, we need to talk."
"No. We don't."
Michael backed out of reach as Jesse moved further into his loft, pulling a gun from his waistband.
"You don't want to shoot me. There is more to this than you know." Michael held his hands up, trying to get through to Jesse. Examining Jesse's face, Michael could tell that he'd closed himself off to all reason.
"Do you seriously believe that I am going to listen to any more lies from your mouth?" Jesse asked, incredulous.
"Not everything was a lie. I didn't mean to burn you."
"Didn't mean to burn me? You knew what would happen! You ruined my life!" The gun in Jesse's hand shook with emotion.
"Jesse, just take a br-" Michael didn't get to finish his sentence as Jesse's finger squeezed the trigger and the sound of the gun filled the loft.
Falling, Michael faintly registered that he was still alive, but his shoulder was on fire.
Walking up to Michael's prone form, Jesse's hand still shook, and his face was contorted with emotion.
Pointing the gun at Michael's head, Jesse kept blinking, the rush of firing the gun and the shock of seeing someone he had considered a friend lying on the ground with a hole in his shoulder that was gushing blood briefly gave him pause.
"J-jesse…" Michael managed to breathe out, trying to clear his head as the blood loss seemed to pull wool around his every thought.
"I-I wanted to k-kill you, Mike. I should kill you…but, but maybe death would be too good for you." Stepping back, Jesse pulled out his cell phone, his hands still shaking and sweat pooling on his brow.
Michael faintly recognized a negotiation between Jesse and whoever was on the other end of the phone, then Jesse was advancing towards Michael's shelves. After he grabbed some zip ties, he returned to Michael's side.
Without a word, he jerked Michael's hands together behind his back and zip tied them tightly, Michael tried not to pass out as his shoulder was wrenched and secured in the uncomfortable position, then Jesse pulled Michael to his feet.
Michael's shoulder protesting and his head swimming, it was everything he could do to not throw-up all over the floor of his loft.
"W-where are we going?"
"Always trying to get information." Jesse said, his voice thick with adrenaline, "You'll find out when we get there."
Stumbling towards the door as he was pulled mercilessly by Jesse, Michael tried once more to reason with him.
"Y-you don't h-have to d-do this," pausing to catch his breath he'd just started talking again when Jesse backhanded him across his face.
"Stop talking! I'm done listening. You're just wasting your breath." Anger now taking over, Jesse manhandled Michael through the doorway and was just beginning to make his way down when Michael threw all his weight into Jesse, knocking them both down the stairs.
Landing on the ground with a grunt, Michael struggled to his feet, glancing at Jesse as Jesse struggled to get up as well. Jesse was holding his head and quickly regathering his faculties.
Knowing he wasn't going to make it back up the stairs, Michael took off as best he could toward the road. He could duck into a building and lose Jesse, then contact Fiona and Sam. Once they all re-grouped, then they could track down Jesse and sway his mind from murdering Michael or selling him to the highest bidder.
Unfortunately, Michael didn't make it as far as he would have liked before he was tackled from behind. Jesse quickly slammed his gun into the back of Michael's head and watched as the lights went out and Michael succumbed to unconsciousness.
Refusing to think about his actions, Jesse let his anger direct his course. With a grunt, he dragged Michael back to his car and unceremoniously threw him into the trunk.
After zip tying Michael's feet, Jesse couldn't help but check the shoulder wound. It was a through and through, but it was bleeding heavily. Michael had also obtained a nice abrasion on the side of his head after his stunt with the stairs, but Jesse simply stuffed a rag into the bullet wound, secured it with duct tape, and closed the trunk.
Now to meet the Serbians.
Pushing any doubt to the nether regions of his mind, Jesse kept repeating the mantra, "he deserves worse", as he drove to the meeting place.
The Serbians were prompt. They checked over Michael's unconscious form, then handed Jesse the money, and then efficiently moved Michael into their van before clearing out as if they had never been there.
Nursing his own wounds, Jesse headed to the nearest bar, he needed a drink.
Two days had passed, and Sam had not been able to get in touch with Michael. Michael's mom was in Tampa, he'd called her, but she hadn't heard from Michael and told him that she'd told Michael not to call her until everything was worked out with Jesse.
Sam had tried Fiona, she'd answered the first time, grateful that he'd given her a shoulder to cry on the night Michael had called him. But since then, she'd failed to answer his calls.
Sam was worried. It wasn't like Michael to just drop off the face of the earth…well, at least not when a big operation was underway. Barrett had been delayed in getting to Miami, some terrorist organization had blown up a plane and all flights had been canceled, but Barrett wouldn't stay away for long, especially since he knew Michael had what he wanted.
Sam had stopped by the loft on the first day that he hadn't heard from Michael, the only thing that had been out of place was a rug that hadn't been there before, but Sam didn't think too hard about it, Fiona was always adding decorative things here and there.
Swinging by Fiona's place, Sam was prepared to put on all his charm in order to get her to help him track down Michael. Apparently, their fight had left them both hurt and angry, maybe Michael had taken some time to cool down.
Despite hoping for that, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something with Jesse had gone terribly wrong.
"Fiona?" He called, knocking on her door. Within a few minutes, she opened the door and walked away.
"Have you heard anything from Michael?"
"No. And I don't want to hear from him until his head is screwed on straight." Fiona answered, anger masking her pain.
"I stopped by the loft; he hasn't been there. Although I like the new rug, you're getting better at picking out decorations."
"Rug? I didn't buy Michael a stupid rug. I probably won't be adding anything to his loft for a while, the way he's acting. Do you know, he hasn't once tried to call me? He hasn't even attempted to stop by. The inconsiderate jerk." Fiona was raging, but Sam was getting more worried by the second.
Yes, Michael had sent him to talk to Fi, but it wasn't like Michael to not reach out after a fight, not unless he wasn't capable of reaching out.
Then Fiona's comment clicked about the rug, "Wait. You didn't buy him a rug?"
"No, why do you keep asking about a stupid rug?" Fiona was glaring at him now and after studying his expression, her face began to fall.
"Michael wouldn't have bought a rug," Sam stated before rushing out the door. Fiona was close on his heels, her instincts screaming at her something she had been ignoring for the last two days.
Hoping in Sam's car, they sped towards Michael's loft to confirm Sam's fear.