AN: thank you for all the reviews. It felt like Christmas had come early. I was scaring my colleagues my mood was so good. Let's do that again. Enjoy!

-BN-

Michael looked up at one of the few remaining steel works in Miami. His instincts taking over, he could work out who was muscle and in on Calitri's organisation and who was just a worker. Of course even those workers would know that steel work wasn't the only business that was conducted here.

He followed Bly through the plant and into a large office. The pipes and metal work of the place still in plain sight even in here. No shred of comfort was visible. It said a lot about this man, Calitri. And none of it was good.

"So this must be the famous Michael Westen." Grinned the man behind a large wooden desk. The wood looked quite out of place surrounded by all the metal. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe everything you've heard." Said Michael looking around the room. Taking in the position of Calitri's bodyguard. The bulge at the man's hip, ruining the line of his jacket. It probably wasn't the only weapon he was carrying. He took in Bly's position, he'd stayed by the door, not invited into the conversation. Could he trust Bly to be on his side? "Where's my brother?"

"Ah yes, Nate Westen. Heard a lot about him too. You got a job that needs doing, he's your man. Never fails to deliver. Guess what? HE FAILED!" Calitri was up on his feet and walking round the desk towards Michael. He was slightly taller than Michael, but not as broad. This man did not fight his own battles. But that's not to say he wouldn't just shoot you.

"I don't like failure. I've now got a buyer for 50 crates of weapons and I've got NO WEAPONS!"

"How much did you pay Nate?"

"I don't want your money. I want those guns." Calitri walked to the door, "I got something to show you." He walked out the office without looking back. Michael looked at Bly who only shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what was going on either. With no other choice, Michael followed after Calitri. He really hoped they were going to see Nate now.

"It takes 80 thousand pounds of pressure to crush a car. How much do you think it takes to crush a body?" asked Calitri he held his hand up and the lights for the yard blazed on. Michael blinked away the spots that the lights had caused and looked towards the car crusher that was in front of them. A man was cuffed to the steering wheel of the car, blood running down his face from a cut on his forehead. It was Nate.

That calm resolve Michael had been using to get him through this without just shooting Calitri evaporated when he saw his brother. Guys had taken his guns from him when he'd arrived, but he reached forward punching the nearest guy in the head grabbing the man's sidearm he had the safety off and pointing at Calitri's head in mere seconds.

"Get him out!" he ordered. Two other men were now pointing guns at his own head. He didn't care. "Get him out!"

"The way I see it, you've got three choices. One, you shoot me, they shoot you, you die and your brother dies. Two, you lie. You take the job and you run, I find you; I kill you, your brother and your mother just for the aggravation that you've caused. Three, you take the job, you steal some weapons, you make some money. You be a big brother." Calitri stared straight at Michael his gaze unwavering. He was confident that Michael would back down. He was right.

Michael dropped the gun. He looked back at Nate, his eyes were still closed. "Three days, pier fourteen. Eight o'clock. Don't be late or your brother goes back in the crusher." Calitri clapped Michael on the shoulder before walking back inside, his bodyguards going with him.

Michael dropped the gun and ran to his brother, climbing up on the crusher he flung open the car door to get a closer look at his brother. "Nate? Nate!"

"Michael?" said Nate as he opened his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you." He pulled out a hair clip from his back pocket and started to pick the lock on the cuffs.

"I don't need your help." Spat Nate, the venom laden in his voice. Michael expected it, but it still hurt.

"You can tell me how much you hate me when we're away from Calitri's place." He pulled Nate out of the car, handing him to Bly before jumping down to the ground. Together the two of them supported Nate to Bly's car. Clearly Nate had more injuries than Michael could see.

"Where too?" asked Bly. Once they had Nate lying in the back seat.

Michael sighed, there was only one place they could go. "My mothers."

-BN-

Bly pulled into the driveway of Madeline Westen's house. "You alright Michael?"

"Fine." He lied as he got out of the car. He was anything but fine. He'd gone an entire decade without coming home before and it didn't feel this bad. Deep down he knew then that he still had something to come back to if he wanted to. But this time, six years and he didn't think he'd be welcomed back with open arms.

Brushing off that feeling he started to help Nate out of the car. Ignoring the protests he was making. Draping Nate's arm over his shoulder he started walking into the house, Bly grabbed Nate's other arm. Together they made short work of the journey. Taking a deep breath Michael pushed open the front door and walked in.

"Ma?" he called. Heading towards the couch he placed Nate down.

"Michael?"

Michael turned round to see his Mom standing in the kitchen having come in from the garage. A basket of clean laundry in her arms. Her bleached blonde hair the same as it was when he left, the usual cloud of smoke surrounding her. She was a medical miracle really. From across the room he could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh Michael." She dropped the laundry and rushed forward. Gripping him in a tight embrace. He guessed he was missed then. That well of guilt got slightly shallower. He could feel Madeline's tears soaking into his shirt. Once again he was powerless to do anything about it.

"Michael?" whispered Bly. They needed to patch up Nate before his blood started seeping onto the couch. He did not want to be around if that happened and Madeline saw it.

"Oh my god. What happened?" she screeched as she pushed past Michael and towards Nate.

"I'm fine, Ma." Mumbled Nate.

"Don't lie to me. Now tell me what happened?" she demanded. She looked between the three men. None of them were looking at her. "Fine. There's a first aid kit in the cupboard. Don't get blood on the upholstery." She grabbed her cigarettes off the table and stormed out. The door slamming behind her.

Michael sighed in response to his mother's outburst. Yeah, something's don't change. Grabbing the kit he set it down beside Nate. It wasn't as nicely stocked as the one Sam used to own. But disinfectant, bandages and a couple of steri-strips were all Nate needed. The thing about head injuries is that they bleed, a lot. He probably had a couple broken ribs, judging by the nice spread of bruises that were forming. But he was lucky. Could have been a lot worse.

"Why'd you come back?" mumbled Nate.

"I'll call you later." Said Bly, patting Michael on the shoulder. He did not want to be around for this conversation. Michael just nodded as he packed the kit away. He was staling.

"I was doing fine on my own."

"I can see that."

"Don't give me that shit." Spat Nate. "You left. Again. Mom was a wreck. I did what I could."

"I know." Mumbled Michael. That well of guilt was filling up again. The brothers sat in silence, both thinking about their past, their present. Where to go from here.

"I'll go see Calitri tomorrow. Get this all sorted out. See about an extension." Mumbled Nate, he was almost asleep. Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"This isn't just a business deal Nate. You can't just get an extension."

He didn't get a reply, Nate was asleep. Getting up he walked out the backdoor and sat on the steps. His head in his hands.

"Nate's in trouble, isn't he?" asked Madeline coming out of the garage. Cigarette in hand.

"Yeah."

"Can you help him?"

"It means doing things. Things I told you I'd never do again."

"Do what it takes."

-BN—