Notes: FINALLY FINISHED THIS STORY! Literally took me a year to find my mojo for this one again... Stupid internet trolls who threatened me, but it is now finished (It's not my favorite but it's done). This one is admittedly a little strange because it's based on a song and this chapter is written somewhat from the point of view of someone who's in complete shock.
Mike is surprised to open his eyes.
He didn't know what he expected death to feel like, but he thought at least he'd be free from the pounding pain in his head. He's not. He wonders what sick game Sid's playing at and wishes he would just stop toying with Mike and get it over with already.
He's free from the chair he'd been bound to, lying facedown on the carpet. He lays still for a moment, sure that the moment he shows he's conscious again he's going to get kicked in the ribs. He can't fight Sid in this condition. The carpet is wet and he turns his head groggily, preparing for the world of pain that awaits him. The dampness is warm and soaking his face he sees red, everywhere. The blood is warm sticky, and seems unending. His eyes barely focus beyond the blood to see Sid's lifeless eyes staring back at him.
He doesn't remember killing him. He remembers struggling against him, the rage, the anger, the pain. Could it be possible he murdered Sid and didn't remember doing it? It has to be… but it doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense. The last few minutes, or hours, who knows how long are completely lost to Mike. His hands are trembling and he feels like he's choking on Sid's blood which is everywhere.
His hands come to the carpet and he sits up in horror staring at the man across from him. He had shot men before, but never like this. He stares at the bullet hole on Sid's forehead that looks like a third eye staring lifelessly back at him. Mike brings a bloodsoaked hand up to push his hair back from his face. Before he can control it, he turns to the side and heaves the contents of his stomach onto the bloodsoaked carpet. He's not sure if the nausea is from the head injury, the confusion, or the gruesome sight in front of him.
A hand touches his shoulder, and Mike jerks backwards. Someone else is here. He's going to die. He's going to die like Sid Markum is dead in front of him. He's too weak to fight. The hands pull him to his knees, and he turns, prepared to do his best and is shocked to see Paige standing there. He's not sure if he's hallucinating. This must all be a bad dream, because he doesn't remember the logical steps that led to this, and everything is spinning. He hears nothing except the pounding in his head like a drum.
"Mike…"
It was as if she wasn't talking. All Mike could see was the blood flowing from Sid's head onto the faded carpet and Paige standing there.
Mike's heart is beating in his chest as he tries to make sense of it all. He did it. He murdered Sid. And Paige is here, oh God she must have seen. Mike doesn't even remember pulling the trigger. The struggle, the fight, everything was a blur. He must be in shock. He's gasping for air, and his fingers come to his neck, which is bruised and sore. Paige is trying to pull him up to his feet. She's saying something to him, but it's as if she isn't talking because Markum's bleeding on the floor as she's speaking. Things aren't adding up. Oh god what did he do?
Paige is saying something, but the blood is pouring and the blood is pounding in his ears, and it's as if she isn't talking because there's so much blood and what is she saying?
He lets her drag him backwards, stumbling in slow motion, like the air has jellified around him. She drags him out of the room, into the kitchen. Mike's eyes are darting around confused. He still sees Sid, lying there, his head bleeding. He doesn't know where he is or why she's brought him here. She sits him down on the table. She's still talking, but it's like she's talking through a fog and he can't… He just can't. His heart is pounding in his chest and his skin is cold and clammy. He looks down to his hands. What did he do?
Mike looks to his hands the gun isn't in them. His head is forced up by her hands and suddenly he's staring into green eyes. She's saying his name. Trying to get him to do something, what? Leave? But the gun isn't in his hands? Where is the gun?
He tries to focus, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.
When he finally opens his eyes again, he is a little more centered.
He stares into the green eyes in front of him, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The intensity of her gaze is too much and his eyes lower. Her mouth is still moving, but the words aren't quite reaching his brain. He watches the soft pink lips move for a moment, distracted by the way they press together to make the "Mmm" sound in his name. He remembers a time when those lips were his. The way they'd curl into a smile, or press against his skin. Those days are as dead as Markum.
His eyes drop lower in shame, down to her hands which are resting on his knees. It's not an intimate touch, more like she's just trying to keep him from getting up and wandering off, but Mike can't remember the last time Paige touched him. His eyes narrow in on her hands, and he reaches down to take one of her hands in his own. She stops talking at this, watching him in confusion as he raises her palm up in front of his face, examining it, carefully manipulating each digit between his fingers.
She brings the hand to his cheek, trying to look into his eyes, but he closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into her palm. He then slowly turns his head into her hand, his lips caressing her palm in a kiss. He breathes deeply and smells the gun powder.
He knows. He knows, but he can't believe it. But he hates the unbelievable simple truth. It should have been him. Not her. Oh god, anyone but her. He kisses her palm before turning his blue eyes up to stare at her, finally able to focus. As he stares up at her beautiful face, finally the blood stops pounding in his ears and he can hear her, but she's silent as she stares down at him. She's bracing herself. She realizes he now knows. Knows what she did.
Everything is hazy, jumbled and dark but Mike knows one thing. Mike didn't pull the trigger. He looks up at her, his silent eyes seeing her in a new light.
"Paige, what have you done?" When she doesn't answer him, just looks away stubbornly, he screams her, "PAIGE! What did you-"
"I couldn't let you die!" She yells back, her voice echoing harsh through the house, cutting him off.
"You killed a cop..." Mike closes his eyes as he tries to sort through this. No, no, no. This is all wrong. It was never supposed to be her. It was supposed to be Mike. His life was already ruined. The one God damn thing he swore he would do right in this world was keep Paige safe and he failed at that. Why would she do this? "How? Why? Why did you do this?"
"Why do you think?" His eyes widen in understanding, but it can't be that.
"I thought… I thought you hated me." Mike's voice is barely a whisper.
"I know what it looks like. How I'm acting. But it's not that. This doesn't change anything…" Paige mutters quickly.
"This changes everything!" Mike stands up, placing both his hands on either side of her. "I thought you hated me, but when you go and do something so incredibly stupid… God why can't you just hate me? Why do you, HOW could you lo-"
"I don't love you. I know how it seems like I might with the way I'm acting but I don't." Paige tries to establish this point very clearly, but she may as well not be talking, because the truth is written in Sid Markum's blood all over the apartment, "I might have at one point but I don't now."
At this point, it seems like Paige is just trying to convince herself. And she's failing at it. Mike stares at her tenderly, completely heartbroken. She'd killed Sid. What future did they have together? Him in jail for being the leak for the FBI. Sid Markum had set Mike up so well all the evidence pointed to him, and now the only man who could prove he was innocent was dead.
And Paige had killed a cop in his home. She could argue self defense, but only if a jury would believe Sid was trying to kill Mike. And who would believe that? Sid Markum's record was spotless. Mike's on the other hand was ruined, and Paige's would be ruined by association. Her whole life would be ruined because of him.
"Paige, where is the gun?" Mike asks, looking at her intently. "We've got to wipe your prints from it. You need to get out of here."
"What?" She asks, unable to follow the leaps his mind is taking. He has to keep Paige safe. Has to protect her.
"Did anyone know you were coming here tonight?" Mike asks urgently.
"No, Mike. No you are not doing this. I did not save your pathetic life just to have you confess to crimes you never committed-" Paige sees where Mike is going with this and begins to fight it him, shoving him roughly in the chest.
He grabs her wrists forcefully, drags her towards him and kisses her hard. His hands smear blood all over her clean skin, and he can taste her tears on his lips. He kisses her punishingly, bruising her lips for daring to love him. She instantly kisses him just as hard in response, biting at his lip and forcing her tongue past his demanding one. When she finally pulls away, more tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, Mike leans in close still holding her wrists in his vice like grip.
"I may not have killed Sid, but I would have. I am not an innocent, Paige. I have committed crimes. I didn't kill Sid and I'm not the monster he was, but I have lied, covered up evidence, robbed banks, sold drugs. I have kidnapped and tortured men..." He shuts his eyes tightly, before he admits the one thing he knows will make her hate him. "Paige, I burned Lina. After she died I burned her body, and then I lied to you."