AN: I do not know anything about guns. The closest encounter I've had with a gun is a glue gun in primary school where the teacher miss-aimed. I still have the scars on my hand. Fun! All the guns I mention I found on a Burn Notice website. Don't shoot me.

-BN-

Michael limped into his mother's garage. That kick Fiona had given him was really starting to hurt, he could feel the blood running down his shin. Slumping down on a stool he lent his head on the bench rubbing his side where bruises were already developing. He was lucky Fiona hadn't broken any of his ribs, though he was sure it wasn't for lack of trying on her behalf.

"You look like shit." Said Nate walking into the garage.

Michael turned round to see Nate holding his chest. "You do know holding your chest doesn't help, right?"

Nate scowled at his older brother dropping his hand. "Talking about help, I never asked for yours."

"No, you didn't. But I'm here now, so just deal with it." Michael sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming just behind his eyes.

"Yeah, you're here now." Scoffed Nate. "Just in time to save the day."

Michael looked directly at Nate "Would you like me to leave? 'cause if you do, tough. I'm not going anywhere."

"You know what I want? I want my brother to be around when I want. Not just when he feels like it." Said Nate balling his fists.

"What, so I can bail you out on more occasions?" snapped Michael.

"I was doing just fine on my own." Shouted Nate.

"Running guns, is your idea of fine. What happened to your limo company and Ruby?"

"Her name is Ruth." Growled Nate. "She took the company in the divorce." Michael looked at his brother in confusion. "Oh that's right, you don't know about that because you never called home. Hell, you don't know anything."

"Then fill me in." Shouted Michael. He was getting sick and tired of people telling him how he'd ruined their lives because he wasn't around. If only they knew the truth.

"You left."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

"Damn it Michael. You didn't even say goodbye, you just leave the charger in Mom's driveway with a note saying I can have it. Was that your way of apologising?"

Michael didn't respond, yes he'd left the charger. Nate had always wanted it and he didn't need it anymore, didn't want it anymore. Too many memories, memories he needed to leave behind if he was going to survive moving on.

"You're not even going to give me an answer, are you? Yet you want me to tell you everything. Everything I've been doing with my life."

"No, not everything, just why this one? Why this job?"

Nate looked at his older brother. He looked for the accusation, the disappointment. But he couldn't see it. Of course it didn't mean it wasn't there. Michael was a spy, hiding his thoughts was all part of the job for him. "The money was good." He shrugged, ignoring how it pulled on his injuries.

"You don't go from limo driving to gun running in a day."

"Well, it took more than a day." Shrugged Nate nonchalantly. "After Ruth left I came home. Found myself doing what I do best, gambling and taking odd jobs." He smiled at Michael but it was anything but friendly. "Turns out I learnt a lot from you when you were 'helping people' it came in handy."

"Running guns is not helping people."

"No, but neither is running away. Yet you do that with expert skill." Sneered Nate.

"Is that what you think, that I ran away?" Michael stood up, looking straight at his brother. "You might not like that I left; you might not even like that I'm here, right now. But I am and we have a little less than sixty hours to find these guns and get them to that container ship or you, me and Mom are all dead. So you can either help, or you can get out of the way. Your choice." Michael stared down at his younger brother; he was taking no more crap. If Nate wanted to have it out with him then he could do it after they survived this job.

"Fine." Stared back Nate, his gaze unwavering.

"This is why I do not work with family." Interrupted Sam. The brothers looked up at him, "Jeeze Mikey what happened?"

"Fiona did, you got something?"

"Damn, was she trying to kill you?"

Michael only scowled at Sam. The same thought running through his head. "What have you got?"

"Six names and locations of arms dealers in Miami." Sam held out a file for Michael. He watched the way Michael moved as he walked. He was favouring his right leg as he walked and holding his upper body stiffly. "Anything broken?"

"No." Growled Michael as he took the file. "Do you know what each dealer has a hold of?"

"Not exactly, a buddy of mine should be able to confirm that within a couple of hours. Have you eaten today? You're looking rather pale."

"I'm fine, Sam." Said Michael as he limped back to his stool. "Nate, I need a list of the dealers you already ripped off and what you took."

"Sure." Nate turned and left the garage without another word.

"Everything ok between you two?" asked Sam.

"Same as always." Answered Michael without looking up. Sam didn't look convinced; he'd never seen his friend look so worn down. "Are you going to let me look at your leg?"

"I told you I'm fine."

"Sure you are Mike. But if you're so fine why is there a blood stain on your jeans?" Michael looked down at his leg and sure enough the blood had soaked through. "Where's the med-kit?"

"In the front room." Sighed Michael. There was no point in hiding it anymore, might as well just give in. He watched as Sam went into the house before he started to roll his trouser leg up. The fabric having already stuck to his skin, he winced as he pulled it away. The blood running freely down his shin from the stab wound Fiona had caused with her heel. He couldn't remember the exact amount of pressure stiletto heels gave but it had something to do with elephants.

Michael was brought out of his thoughts by Sam returning with the kit. Sam's eyes widening at the sight of Michael's leg. "What did you say to cause her to do this much damage?"

"Obviously not what she wanted to hear." Deadpanned Michael. "Maybe you could talk to her, get her to give us some names."

"Please tell me that wasn't the only think you talked about?"

"We didn't really talk. I was too busy ducking her fists."

"That bad, huh?" Sam started cleaning away the blood that was stuck to Michael's leg before he got the disinfectant out.

"That bad." Said Michael through gritted teeth.

"Did you call her at all while you were gone?" asked Sam as he wrapped the wound in a clean bandage. He looked up at Michael who was staying silent. He guessed that was a no then. The look on Michael's face said he didn't want to talk about it. "Done, how's your ribs?" he said changing the topic.

"Just bruised." Michael pulled his shirt up so Sam could have a look. He gritted his teeth as Sam prodded around the bruise that was already forming. Sam nodded in approval of Michael's diagnosis before he stepped away and packed the kit away.

"How big are these dealers?" asked Michael letting his shirt fall back in place.

"These four are only small time." Said Sam pointing at the list. "But we should be able to get all the handguns we're after from them. Probably some of the submachine guns too."

Michael nodded "And the other two?"

"This guy, Aleksey Kuznetsov. He deals in heavy weapons. Should be able to get the M203 grenade launchers from him probably the Barrett M82 and the M47 Dragon."

"And the last guy, Hyun Yi?"

"Yeah, about him. We could probably get most of what we need from him. Though personally I think we should avoid him."

"Why?"

"The last guy that ripped him off ended up in with his limbs cut off and his tongue ripped out then he was delivered to a hospital. The guy lived. Forever trapped in his own body. We get caught I'd rather we just get shot."

"Noted." Smiled Michael. He'd see what Nate gave them, but if it meant having to steal from ten guys what he could get from one. He'd take the risk."

-BN-