Wrong Turn

By RascalFlattsS

Summary: Michael's meeting with Carlos goes horrible wrong. With Sam and Fi be there for Michael when he needs them the most? AU for Enemies Closer. Lots of Michael Whumpage!

Warnings: Spoiler Alert for Enemies Closer. Some violence and swearing-nothing to major. Keeping it PG rated, I promise.

Ships: A lot of Michael/Sam friendship. Mostly because there aren't enough of those stories on Fanfiction.

Disclaimer: Do not own Burn Notice. Or Jeffery Donovan-what a bummer-he's yummy!

Chapter 1: When it all goes wrong….

Michael smiled to himself. Another successful mission, he thought as he watched Carlos count the money in the back of the trunk.

"So, we're good?" asked Michael, smiling.

Carlos smiled back. "We're great."

Michael starts to walk away, thinking about the temptation that comes with dealing with large amounts of cash. Often people want to steal it, to kill over or worse…

"HEY!"

Counterfeit, curses Michael softly. He turns and faces Carlos, hoping and praying that he can talk himself out of this one.

Carlos is holding up one of the bills. "There's no security strip! No thread! Are you trying to pull something?! Where you in on it?!"

"That doesn't make any sense," said Michael. "You run a cash-processing center! Why would I shove Monopoly money in your face? Don't be stupid—"

Michael doesn't even get to finish the sentence. With faster reflexes than Michael expected, his gun is pulled and a shot is fired.

Michael hears the gun go off and then immediately feels white hot pain in right leg. His leg collapses underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Michael gasps for breath as the pain floods through him. He struggles to sit up; the pain from his leg increasing with every breath.

Carlos walks over and pushes Michael back down to the ground. Michael bites his lips to keep from crying out.

"I'm not going to let me call you stupid no more!" screamed Carlos. He pushed the gun into Michael's temple. "Now where's my money!?"

"I don't know!" shouted Michael. He took a couple of deep breathes, trying to control the pain. "But I do know that shooting me in the head isn't going to get you your money!"

"And you can get it?" asked Carlos, pushing the gun harder into his temple.

"I can," gasped Michael. He wanted to add a smart-alecky comment but he barely had enough energy to get out those two words.

Carlos seems to debate what Michael said.

"You have twenty hours," said Carlos softly, "to get me my money." He stomped on Michael's injured leg and Michael gasped in pain as blackness surrounded him. He was barely hanging onto consciousness when he heard Carlos talk again.

"If you double cross me, I'll make you live to regret the fact that I didn't kill you now."

Michael gasped and looked around and saw Carlos walking towards the car. Michael leaned back and sighed in relief when he saw Carlos get in his car and drive away.

One problem solve…

Being a spy, means having people want to kill you and mostly likely shooting guns at you. Having guns being pointed at you will most likely lead to you getting shot. This is why it important to have a back-up team watching your back.

Michael groaned. He looked at his leg. The bullet had hit him in the upper thigh and by the amount of blood; it had hit some major blood vessels.

"Damn it!" cursed Michael. He struggled to sit up. He then pulled off his jacket. He then folded the jacket and placed it gently on the bullet wound.

"C'mon," groaned Michael as his fingers struggled to unhook his belt. He could use the belt as a tourniquet that would hopefully slow the blood loss. He finally unhooked the belt.

"Now comes the fun part," said Michael softly. He slide the belt under his leg. The movement jostled the wound, causing the pain to increase tenfold. Michael bit his lip so hard it bled.

Michael waited for the pain to subside before him continuing to pull the belt into place. He was about to pull the belt tight when he stopped.

Michael grabbed his cell phone and dialed the familiar number. He cursed when he heard it go to voicemail.

"This is Fi. Leave a message."

"Damn it!" cursed Michael. He waited for the beep. "Fi, it's me. Larry swamped the money-I don't know where it is. I'm in trouble and I need your help. It's like that one time in Drogheda. Come to the Warf. Now."

Michael hung up the phone and dialed another familiar number.

"You've reached the voicemail for Sam Axe…"

"Sam-"Michael gasped in pain. "I know you are pissed at me and I get it. I'm sorry. But the meeting with Carlos went south and…I need help. Larry doubled-crossed me and switched the money." Michael took a deep breath trying to breathe through the pain. "I've been shot. It's bad. I need your help, Sam. Please don't let me down. Please. I'm at the Warf. Help me, Sam." Michael didn't care for the begging in his voice.

Michael heard the phone click off and heard it drop to the ground. He grabbed the belt tightly with both his hands, waiting to pull it tight.

"Here it goes," he prayed softly as he pulled the belt tightly.

Pain flared though his leg as if it was on fire. He tried to scream but there was no oxygen left in his lungs and the world went black.

A/N: Please review!