OUT OF THE ASHES.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. This is all for fun.

AU: Based on Out of the fire. S4 Ep17.

Into the fire again: On the way to Tyler Brennan's apartment to get the NOC list, Larry crashed the Charger. Michael and Larry ended up on the run. After a long chase, various injuries, and imprisonment. Michael has ended up with a head injury, a shaky deal to stay out of prison and with loyal friends who aren't really that sure how trustworthy he is any more.

Out of the ashes: Steps a new Michael Westen, unsure of himself, quick tempered and barely in control. But he needs to hold himself together when Larry, out for revenge, targets his friends.

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Chapter one.

Fiona's eyes flickered open she lay still, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness while she worked out what had caused her to wake. There it was again, faint sounds of distress accompanied by Michael restlessly moving about in the bed. With a sleepy groan she realized he was dreaming again. Turning on to her side she reached out towards him. Sometimes just the feel of her hand was enough to let him know he wasn't alone and he would settle after a few minutes.

This time as her hand touched his warm slightly feverish skin he turned to face her, and a muscular arm snaked around her waist, and a pyjama clad leg dropped over both of hers, pulling her into a tight embrace. His head was buried into the crook of her neck, faint whimpering moans reached her ears, breaking her heart as his grip tightened even more. She wrapped her arms around his body, holding on to him, as tightly as he held on to her. "It's alright." She told him. "It's alright I'm here."

She combed her fingers through his hair as he continued to mumble gibberish into her neck. Changing to rubbing his back as his body suddenly began to tremble, his muscles flinching and twitching as if he was taking blows.

"Michael, it's just a dream. You're safe here." She soothed, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. Still hoping this would be one of the nights where, after a while he calmed and fell into a deep sleep.

She felt the trembling begin to worsen, as his moans grew louder and more distressed. "No!" He wailed out the denial. Biting her lip she realized this was not going to be an 'easy' night.

His arms began to flail wildly as he flung himself across the bed, tangled in the bed sheet he struggled violently to free himself. She tried to stop his panic but in the end she had to withdraw to let him come round by himself as he blindly lashed out.

.

"Hey Michael! That was a good shot." Simon crouched down next to the bed a beaming smile on his face, a trickle of blood ran down the side of his nose from the neat hole in the middle of his forehead. "I bet you made Larry real proud." Michael could feel the man's breath against his skin. Smell the decay from his rotten corpse. The grin faded, Simon's features twisted into a grimace. "And now you're going to end up just like me." He lent in very close now. "Just. Like. Me."

"NO!" Michael's eyes flew open, his heart hammering in his chest, a film of sweat coated his body. Coughing and gagging from the stench of death that still filled his nostrils.

"Ssh, Michael it's alright it was a dream. Just a bad dream." Fiona's soft words of comfort were lost in his confusion.

Disorientated, he flung the bed sheet back, kicking out to untangle it from his legs. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he hunched forward with his feet on the floor and his head in his hands.

"Just like me. Just like me. Just. Like. Me." Simon's taunt was still echoing through his skull. It was true, he was going mad, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it happening. He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his head. Trying to block the dead spy's words.

Fiona knelt behind him, reaching out tentatively to run a hand over his back. He was breathing heavily, the cool night air had turned his skin clammy to the touch. When he didn't react she brought both hands up to his shoulders. His muscles were bunched up tightly, feeling like stone under her fingers. Slowly she began to try and massage some of the tension out of his body.

After a few minutes she was rewarded when he gave a soft sigh, and relaxed back into her grip. She placed a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. "You need to get some sleep." She whispered in his ear, moving even closer to wrap her arms about his shoulders.

He shook his head, reaching up to place a hand over the top of hers. "Don't you think I would if I could." He answered her, a little bit of the frustration he constantly felt, bled through in his tone.

"Do you remember what the doctor said? It's still early days, with plenty of rest there is no reason why you shouldn't make a full recovery." She spoke softly, her words were like a caress trying to encourage him back to bed.

"It's not going to make any difference." Michael gritted the words out, letting go of her hand.

He remembered exactly what the specialist had said, and while his mother, Sam and Fiona had all been over the moon and positive that he would recover fully.

He remained full of doubt. Every night his sleep was disturbed by Simon, taunting him with his greatest fear. He was losing his mind and his ability to think straight. Then sometimes, Larry would make an appearance, urging him to embrace the chaos and just let go. "You're fighting a losing battle kid, for once just enjoy yourself. What's the worst that can happen? You end up making a lot of money."

"You don't know that." She answered, cutting through his thoughts.

He couldn't take any more, shrugging off her hands, he was on his feet grabbing his clothes off a nearby chair. "I'm going out."

"It's 3 in the morning. Where are you going to go?" She was on her feet as well, watching him strip off the pyjama bottoms and start to get dressed. Any talk about his head injury had the same effect, sending him either out of the door or off round the room pacing like a wild animal.

"Out." He glanced at her, his expression closed and guarded.

"Don't do this." Fiona kept her voice low, moving closer only stopping when she saw him tensing up. "Stay with me." She was becoming practiced at coaxing him into listening to her.

He shook his head, kneeling down to fasten the laces on his trainers.

"It's late, you'll feel better once you've had a sleep." She persisted.

Michael stopped what he was doing, standing up straight he ran his fingers through his hair. Her calmness, was settling his rattled nerves. Fatigue was begining to edge out his anxiety.

Even in the dark she could see his eyes were tearing up. "I can't sleep, I can't switch off." He admitted.

"Let me help you." She stepped closer. "Let me take care of you." She was at his side, her hand on his arm first, and when he didn't pull away she slipped both arms around his waist, pulling him into her body. Burying her head against his chest, listening as his heart beat began to slow.

He bent his head down breathing in the scent of her hair, his arms closed round her returning the embrace. She walked him slowly towards the bed, slipping his shirt off, pulling his pants down and unlacing his trainers. Pushing him back onto the bed she climbed in next to him, this time she rested her head on his shoulder, and her hand splayed out on his chest.

"You're safe here with me. All you need to do is rest, it's like any other injury. You'll get better. You always do." She promised him.

Michael held her body gently against his side, the fingers of one hand played with her hair. "You should let me go." He spoke so softly she could barely hear the words. "One day I'm going to lose control and I'll hurt you. I won't want to, but.."

"You won't hurt me Michael." She kissed his shoulder, then his neck. "You're getting better." She had heard it all before over the last two weeks. All his doubts and fears. "You're improving we all see it." She reached his chin now with gentle nipping kisses.

"But what if.." She stopped his words by covering his mouth with her own, her tongue stroking against his, her hands holding him still. Putting an end to their discussion.

.

Fiona was woken by the hum of her cell phone bouncing across her bedside table. Bleary eyed she struggled to pick it up before the noise woke Michael. Squinting at the display she read the caller display, SAM, and then she saw that it was eight am. Pressing the accept button she held the phone to her ear. "What is it?" She whispered, climbing out of the bed as quietly as she could.

"Good morning sunshine." Came Sam's cheery response.

Hearing her sigh, he added. "Another bad night?" Sympathy plain in his tone.

Apart from the fact Fiona's couch was not as comfortable as a proper bed. Michael's nightmares had been one of the main reasons for moving out of her apartment after a couple of days. It was hard to listen to the noises that came through the wall each night. He had always thought of his friend as one of the strongest men he had ever met, and listening to him crying out in such distress and not being able to do a thing about it had been too much to take. So once he was satisfied Fiona could cope alone he had moved out.

"What do you want Sam?" She avoided his question, as she padded silently out of the bedroom.

"Can you meet me later? Alone."

"Is it important?"

"Yeah I think it is, but it's not something I want to talk about around Mike."

"I'm not taking on a job Sam, he needs me."

"Just meet me. I'll be in all day." Sam had moved into the loft, as he was still between lady friends and the building was going to waste.

"Ok." She answered with a sigh. "Madeline has been complaining that Michael hasn't been to see her. I'll try and convince him to visit. This better be important."

"It is, I'll see you later." He hung up without another word.

Dropping the phone back onto the table Fiona sat down on the couch. It was only then she noticed Michael was leaning against the bedroom door frame, watching her.

"Hi." He was wearing the pyjama bottoms he had discarded earlier and nothing else.

"Hi." She replied, as he continued to stare.

"What did Sam want?" He asked.

She should have known the call would have woken him up, and then his insatiable curiousity would cause him to eavesdrop.

"A job. He just wants some back up." She replied. "Do you want some breakfast?" She attempted a little misdirection. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him.

"If it's just back up.." He started to say, when she placed a finger over his lips, and shook her head.

"You were told by the doctor to rest and you've been ordered to keep a low profile by the feds." She watched the hopeful look on his face fade.

He took hold of her hand, his mouth capturing her finger. He held it between his teeth for a moment before letting her go. "So you're going to force me to visit my mother?" He asked his tone flat, unhappy at being left out of any potential action.

She realized he had heard the whole conversation. "You haven't seen her for a week, she's worried about you." She broke free ruffling his hair with her fingers.

"Fine." He reluctantly agreed, he went to sit at the dining table. Trying to flatten his hair as he slumped down.

"Good let's have some breakfast first, then you can call her. Tell her your coming over for a visit." Fiona headed for the kitchen with a smile on her face.

…...

It was eleven am, Larry Sizemore lay back on his large comfortable bed, his upper body propped up against the headboard by several soft pillows. He stared with a faint look of amusement at the slender woman who sat astride his hips. Her grey almost colourless eyes were narrowed in concentration. The tip of her tongue licking the corner of her upper lip.

She was restitching a jagged hole in the top of his arm, a large nasty hole created by a bullet ripping into his flesh at close range. A hole she had first stitched up nearly two weeks ago.

"Sasha, just get on with it." He growled. "You're enjoying this far too much."

"You're the one who burst the stitches in his arm going fishing." She gazed into his eyes, running a soft hand down his stubble covered cheek. "You let Michael shoot you. And then this. Really Larry you're getting old." She tied off the thread, slowly pressing on the wound until he grunted in pain.

"Sasha." He growled, as he bit his lip.

"An old man." She taunted, a trace of an east European accent in her voice. She picked up an adhesive dressing, and slapped it down over the stitches. "Old men should to be more careful."

Larry's good arm moved like lightening his fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing until her lips began to turn blue, while her expression remained placid and serene. "Careful who you call old." He warned, before releasing her with a jerk of his arm.

She came off the bed and landed nimbly like a cat poised on the carpeted floor, one hand massaging her bruised throat. The other brushing her shoulder length ash blonde hair off her face.

"So Ross Dawson and his wife, are taken care off?" He asked, all signs of anger gone.

Sasha sat down next to the bed and glanced at her wrist watch. "They will be in another hour." Came her unconcerned replied.

"An hour?" Irritation entering his tone.

"They have lunch at midday." She answered if that explained everything.

His hands curled into fists. "Digoxin poisoning? You're becoming predictable. I thought I said.."

"You asked me to do a job. It's done, or nearly done. Now, when are you going to kill Michael?"

"Why would I kill Michael?" He replied.

"Er." She waved a pointed finger in the general direction of all his various injuries.

"He was just a little angry with me that's all." He chuckled. "This was just a temper tantrum. If he had wanted me dead, I would be dead."

"You indulge him too much." She crossed her arms over her chest. Not seeing the funny side of two bullet holes a broken rib and four more bruised.

"Jealousy? Really? It doesn't suit you." He smirked. "Why don't you go and see what he's up to for me?"

Sasha reached under the chair and picked up a pair of high heeled strappy wedge sandals. Slipping them onto her feet she stood up. "Can I at least shoot him a little bit?"

He gave her an indulgent smile and shook his head. She cocked her head to one side, running an appraising gaze over his chest, tightly bandaged to support his ribs. "How about his little friends then?"

He held out an arm inviting her in, as she lent over he planted a light kiss on her forehead. "Soon. I promise."

A large smile came to her face, she kissed him back hard on the lips before moving away. "I'm going to hold you to that Larry." She stopped at the door and blew him a kiss, before climbing up the steps leading to the deck of the hundred and fifty foot luxury yacht.

She passed one of the deck hands. Grabbing the man's arm in a vice like grip, long sharp nails digging into his skin. "Go clean up his room." She ordered. "Oh, just a warning. If he opens another wound I'll open one in your hide to match." She let him go and without a backward glance walked off the yacht and onto the marina path.