AN: This chapter took longer than I thought to get out. I knew exactly where I wanted to go, but getting there proved more difficult than originally planned. Little Miss Plot Bunny kept giving me bad directions. But here it is. Enjoy!

-BN-

Michael knew what he had to do, he'd been thinking about it for the past three hours. There was no possible way he would be able to complete this job on his own. He had sixty-seven hours remaining until the deadline, it just wasn't enough time to scout potential sources by himself. Six years ago he would have known which arms dealers in Miami could get hold of which weapons. Six years ago he would have known where each arms dealer had their storage and could have just stolen them. But now? Now he didn't even know which dealers were still around.

Which is why he was now standing across the street from Carlito's. The place hadn't changed in the time that he'd not been around. Including the man he was looking for. Sam Axe. He had no idea how Sam would react. It could go either way, a friendly smile and offered a beer, or a punch to the jaw. The only way he was going to find out was if he went over there.

Crossing the street, he dodged a police cruiser and walked towards his old friend. A smile graced his lips as he watched Sam ogle at a young woman in her beach wear. "She's too young. Wouldn't be able to afford your up keep." Said Michael as a way of getting Sam's attention.

Sam's head snapped round so he was looking at Michael, a total look of shock on his face. Seconds dragged by as Sam just stared at Michael, all the while Michael became all the more uncomfortable. This was not going either way that he pictured it.

Suddenly Sam let out a bellow of a laugh, standing up he pulled Michael into a bear hug. "Damn." He said as he let Michael go, looking him up and down. Smiling he indicated the chair opposite him and they both sat down.

"Mira, dos cervezas, por favour" Sam called to the waitress. Beer it was then. Sam's smile faded slightly "Been a long time, Mike."

"Yeah." Michael agreed. What else could he say? There was no point denying it. As a spy he got used to dropping everything and moving on to the next location. Enjoyed it even. Then he got burned. He made friends, a family. Moving on wasn't easy, but he did it. No changing that.

"You back for good?" asked Sam as he sipped his drink. All the while not taking his eyes off Michael. Taking in everything about him. There was something different about the Michael that sat in front of him compared to the one six years ago. But he couldn't tell you what. There was nothing definitive. But there was something.

"I'm here for Nate. He took a job, now he's in trouble." Sam frowned at him, obviously that wasn't the answer he wanted, or even hoped for.

"What kind of job?" Sam asked. If Michael could ignore the issue, then so could he.

"What do you know about a Raymond Calitri?" Michael watched as the colour in Sam's face seemed to drain.

"Shit Mikey. I've heard bad things about him. What was Nate thinking?"

That was two of the toughest people Michael knew now that paled at the thought of Calitri. He didn't understand it. Yeah, the guy was a bit crazy but he hadn't seen anything from him to invoke this amount of fear. Brushing that aside he pulled out the list of weapons and handed it Sam.

"What's this?" asked Sam taking the paper.

"That's the weapons Calitri wants by Friday or he kills Nate."

"Shit Mikey." Said Sam his eyebrows raising more and more as he read through the list of weapons. "There's enough here to start a large army, let alone a small one. Again I ask what was Nate thinking?"

"I don't know. He's apparently been taking any kind of job that pays." Sighed Michael. He hadn't had a chance to speak more to Nate this morning; he was still asleep when he left. His mother under strict orders not to let him leave.

"How did Nate plan on getting these weapons?"

"I don't know, but I don't think he planned on paying for them."

"So he must have some of them in storage then?" Sam looked hopeful.

"Past tense. That's why he's in trouble. Couple of nights ago the cops were tipped. They now have whatever he did have." He'd learnt that much from Bly on the journey to Miami.

"Damn Mikey. Less than three days. Fifty crates. Different locations. You think about just getting Nate out of town?"

Michael laughed slightly, "I would, but Calitri's got Bly employed as his personal blood hound. I can't tell which side he's on."

"Bly? Just like old times then." Sam handed the list back. "You talked to Fi?" The switch in topic was almost to fast for Michael. "Not yet." He mumbled as he sipped his beer.

"She'd be a good asset." Michael frowned at Sam's choice of words. "She's working a bar in south beach. Real high end thing. It's called Time." That was Sam's un-subtle way of telling Michael to go see her.

"Thanks." Grumbled Michael. He knew he had to see her. If they had any chance of pulling this off, Fiona needed to be in on it. She had all her contacts, the underground ones, the ones not even Sam could get to.

"No problem. I'll check some sources. Catch up to you later." Sam was smiling again.

Michael got up to leave, "It's good to see you Sam." He left before Sam could reply. He did not want to discuss the reasons for his leaving, the reasons for him staying away.

-BN—

Michael had barely made it across the street again when a smooth female voice caught his attention. "Well if it isn't Michael Westen."

"Detective Paxson." Grinned Michael as he turned round to see the woman who used to cause him so much grief. "What a pleasure." She was smiling at him but her smile was anything but friendly. More like a shark waiting for its dinner. Same as always.

"I got this call from a uniform, good man. He calls me up and tells me he just saw Michael Westen walking into Carlito's." She waved to Sam who was watching them both. "I tell him he's mistaken. Michael Westen wouldn't come back to Miami. He just got out. But he's adamant that it's you. So I drag my ass down here, and look who I find." She pulled her sunglasses off so she was looking him right in the eyes "Funny thing is, three nights ago I get called out to a storage depot explosion. Lots of guns. I had this thought, this feels like Michael Westen. Now it didn't have your finesse. But it just felt right."

"Sorry to disappoint. I just got back yesterday. Family emergency." Smiled Michael.

"Sure you did." She didn't look convinced. "Michael, you used to tell me we were on the same side. Yet, you reeked more havoc in Miami than the bad guys you said you were trying to stop." She shook her head, "Then six years ago you almost get yourself killed, so you do the smart thing and you leave before your get your friends and your brother killed."

Michael looked away from the woman giving him the history lesson. He didn't need a reminder of that day.

"Whatever the reason for your return. Whatever you're planning. I'll be watching."

"Just like old times then." Grinned Michael.

"Watch yourself Michael. You put one toe out of line and I'll have you locked up before you even think about spinning one of your stories." She turned and walked away. The threat hanging in the air. Michael tilted his head back and groaned. He did not need this; this job was already turning into his own worst nightmare. Having Paxson around was just making it all the worse.

He looked around the street, no marked police cars. Guess she wasn't going for the tailing option. He remembered how fun that had been the last time she had given him babysitters. Deciding now wasn't the best time to dwell on it. He'd let her play her hand, go from there. Giving a quick nod to Sam he went in search of Fiona.

-BN-

The Club Time was a twenty-four hour dance club for the rich and the pretty. It was decked out elegantly with its blue lighting and white furniture. The edges of the club had private booths for its VIP's separated from the masses by shimmering curtains and the occasional bodyguard. It was the perfect place for Fiona to find prospective buyers for her weapons. Michael skirted the edges of the VIP section hoping to see Fiona. That's where the high end bidders would be.

He found her in one of the booths at the far side, with two guards outside the curtains. A man in an expensive suit was sitting opposite her. Michael watched as the man stood up offering her his hand, she shook it before leaving. Taking the two bodyguards with him. When Sam said she was 'working a bar' he didn't expect her to be working out of the bar on a permanent basis. Her buyers were coming to her now.

Walking towards her booth he stepped inside "Fi." He smiled at her. God, how he'd missed her. She looked as stunning as ever. Her hair clipped back showing the long line of her neck. The tight dress that clung to the curve of her hips. It had been too long.

"Michael." Said Fiona her body tensing. "What are you doing here?"

They stared at each other for a long time, the seconds ticking past. Fiona recovered first "Did you want something?" she asked folding her arms beneath her chest, the surprise of seeing him vanishing and turning into something else. Something he couldn't quite pin point.

"I need your help."

Those four simple words seemed to spark something in Fiona. She uncrossed her arms and strutted towards him. Michael was so focused of the anger in her eyes that he didn't see her fist coming at him.

The blow knocked him backwards into one of the stuffed chairs. Falling over the back of it he landed on his back, a sudden pounding in his head. She was pissed. Getting to his feet he looked back at Fiona, her body tense in anticipation of a fight. Ok, she was more than pissed.

"Six years. Six years without a word from you." She threw another punch, this time he was able to block it. In doing so he missed the kick to his side. His breath whooshing out of his lungs as he doubled over. "Then you walk in here. To my bar, and have the audacity to ask for my help." She aimed another kick, this time at his head. Michael was able to grab her ankle, twisting so she lost her balance.

Fiona fell onto her back, her leg still in Michael's grip. She flung her other leg out catching him in the back of the knees. He crashed down beside her, letting go of her leg as he tried to break his floor. Fiona was back on her feet looking down at Michael who was already rolling away from her and standing in one fluid move.

"I don't want to hurt you." Said Michael as he stared at Fiona, bringing his hands up in a surrender gesture.

"Too bad." She shrugged "I do" she threw another punch, followed quickly by another. The trouble with trying to defend yourself without hurting your attacker becomes all the more difficult when they really want to hurt you.

"Damn it Fi, this isn't about me." He shouted as he jumped back from another kick.

"Of course it's not. It never is." She leaped forward punching high. Michael grabbed her wrist spinning her round so her back was pinned to his chest. His other hand going around her waist.

"Would you just listen to me?" Michael growled in her ear.

"I was done listening to you a long time ago." She kicked her foot backwards dragging her stiletto heel down his left shin. Michael let out a gasp of pain, his hold on Fiona loosening. She took the opportunity to thrust her elbow back and into his ribs. He let go of her as he dropped to his knees.

Fiona stared down at the only man she'd ever truly loved. How dare he come waltzing back into her life like this. She had been so angry at him for so long. Then finally, finally she thought she was over him. She had moved on. Got back to what she did best. Then he turns up out of the blue. It wasn't fair.

"Nate's in trouble." Michael wheezed. He sat back on his heels looking up at her. He saw her faulter slightly, some of the anger sliding away. "He took a job and he fumbled it."

"Don't do this Michael."

"I'm sorry, but I need your connections."

She screamed at him, her foot flying, hitting him in the jaw. He toppled over hitting the floor hard. Tasting blood in his mouth. "Get out!" The arrogant bastard. That was all she was to him, an asset.

Michael got to his feet slowly, holding his ribs with one hand while wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the other. She really wasn't going to help. Did he blame her? No, not really. "I'm sorry Fi. You've got a nice life here. I shouldn't disrupt that." He turned away from her heading to the curtain, pausing he looked back at her one last time. "Take care, Fi." He said before exiting the booth.

Fiona watched him leave, again. She wanted to scream at him. Hurt him like he'd hurt her. His final comment stinging and what made it worse was that he probably meant it.

-BN-