A/N: So here for the first time is a collaboration with the fabulous author and our friend Amanda Hawthorn. This story is in three parts and is full of SPOILERS for S7.11 & 7.12. We have each taken a character and written from their point of view one part of the tale of what happens after Michael's confession to James Kendrick. We welcome your guesses as to who has written which character.

We hope our group speculation helps to fill the gap while we all wait an extra week to find out what happens next in this wild ride Matt Nix is taking us on. Much love to all of you out there who feel as heartbroken over the ending of this show as we do.

So, to all the burners out there: the padded cells are being restocked, the strait jackets dry cleaned and the boxes of tissues are stacked in one corner along with the valium, the chocolates and copious amounts of wine. Much love and peace to you all.

()()()()()()()()()()

Sam

"I was never good at taking orders, Sam. That's why you were a soldier and I was a spy."

And therein lay the truth of their relationship. The were both patriots, both devoted to their country, both men who had killed for their country, to protect it, to help keep it safe.

But Michael was a spy, who lived in the murky world of deceit, who had to pretend he was someone he wasn't until it was time to act on where his true loyalties lay. Sure, he had done the disinformation campaigns, he'd done some undercover, but he was always the same man, he was always Chuck Finley, who was just another facet of who Sam Axe was.

"Mike is not a traitor," he'd told Jesse point blank.

Jesse hadn't been able to look him in the face until after he'd said it, but he'd said it just the same.

"You need to wake up."

While they'd sat there in that car in the Miami heat, even as the younger man had said it, Sam'd denied it in his head. He'd worked with Michael Westen, he knew Michael Westen... Army Ranger... CIA Operative...

Best Friend...

"He's just getting what he deserves, Sam."

"Hey, I'm no friend of Cabral, the guy almost killed me. I'm just concerned that you're enjoying this a little too much."

"Enjoying this? I've been working on this job for almost a year, Sam."

"And that's what I'm worried about. Look, I'm your best friend. I can see that look in your eye. This guy James is getting to you. They all are."

He had waited, almost holding his breath, waiting to see if his friend would deny it all and say he was okay, just give the do what I have to do speech.

But to his immense surprise, Michael had admitted why he'd wanted him on this job, admitted that there was something not right going on and that he needed Sam's help.

"I know... That's why I need you here. I know who James is, I know who Sonya is. But it's difficult to work so hard to be part of something, knowing you have to destroy it. These people believe in what they're doing. I'm sorry I'm putting you in this situation. But, I don't think I can do this alone."

"You don't have to, brother."

As they had sat in yet another car, sweating in a tropical paradise, Sam had been relieved to hear Mike acknowledge that he needed the support and the ex-SEAL was happy to help. Up until that moment, he'd been mighty worried about what James and crew had done to the spy to make that man run back into that house willingly. Yeah, he'd seen Mike worse physically, but this...

That had scared the hell out of him after he'd realized exactly what his buddy had been running back to: people with a clear purpose... Like all sociopaths, they thought they were on the one true path, but Michael Westen couldn't exist without a purpose, without loyalties...

"If we don't stop him now, there won't be a Michael left to save."

And as he'd pulled up on that bridge, Sam Axe had been praying there was enough of his best buddy left to save. He'd been shocked when a bearded, haunted ghost who happened to look like Mike had gotten out of that car months ago, after he'd cut them off to keep them from walking into an ambush.

"This is how I find out my best friend is still alive?"

But the sight of the dark haired man who'd been scowling at him on that bridge had almost made Sam sick with fear.

"Mike, hey Mikey, what the hell happened, brother?" he'd demanded.

He knew that look, he knew it all too well. Sam had seen it in Bosnia, Serbia, Chechnya...

"Hell, Mike, can't you even say hi any more? We've been worried sick about you. Where have you been? Strong is out for your blood, brother, you gotta come in now."

Damn Strong, that arrogant asshole, that idiot who'd almost gotten them all killed more than once, for pushing Mike too hard and too far.

"Dammit, Mike, talk to me!" His hand had landed on Mike's arm and the younger man had stiffened. "Is this about the CIA using Simon?"

"He'd tried to blow up half of Miami! You're working with a monster!" And then the bastard had dared to compare him to Mike.

Sam had hated what Strong had done, too, but one rotten CIA agent shouldn't have been enough to send Mike off the rails. Except, it hadn't been just one rotten CIA agent...

"He killed my brother. He was going to get away with it. I had no choice."

Mike had gone in shut down mode as Sam had stood there arguing with him, trying to make him see sense, trying to get him to realize what he was buying into.

"Jesus, Mike, can you hear yourself? That's just James gettin' into your head. Please tell me you're not falling for his crap?"

"And working for the people who freed Simon and gave him a job, that's a better choice? You know what he was, what he did – and they just freed him."

Yes, Strong had screwed up, the CIA had screwed up, but he couldn't let his friend make the biggest mistake of his life... AGAIN... because of the mistakes of other men. But Sam had already known Mike was past talking and what it was going to take to bring him around.

Not bad, Mike. You can hit me all you want, but I'm going to stand here until you get your head back in the game.

"Not a chance, brother. You think I'm gonna let you do this? Let you walk away -"

He had gotten in the first blow, but Mike had been more determined that he had counted on. Sam grappled with the younger man until they had both gone over the railing and into the muddy waters below.

He had been a SEAL; he'd been confident that even though Mike was younger and a combat diver as well, his years of experience would give him the edge and their years of friendship would keep Mike from really fighting him in a life or death situation.

Until a vicious kick to his solar plexus had knocked all the air out of him in a rush and only his years of training had allowed him the discipline not to inadvertently suck water back in.

Until a blow to the head had hit him hard enough to make him see stars and lose his orientation, such that he had not been sure which way was up.

Until he'd seen a sight he would have never believed... his best friend had swum away and left him to drown...

And that was why he was standing there, wet in the body, but chilled to his soul, telling Fiona and Jesse the one thing he thought he'd never say about Michael Westen...

"It's too late. He's lost."

()()()()()()()()()()

Michael

He had nothing left. He had given everything he had and apparently it still wasn't enough... well, no more.

At the sight of Sam, Jesse and Strong creeping ever closer to the boat shed, ready to lay their ambush, he'd come to a sudden decision.

He couldn't do it any more.

He couldn't be the man they all wanted him to be.

He had been a true believer. He had believed in his country, his government and the agency he had loyally... no, blindly served. But he couldn't do it any longer and it had taken a mad man to open his eyes and show him the truth.

"They got me outta the box almost as soon as you put me in it," Simon had informed him. "I've been working for them for... oh, going on two years, off the books naturally. They drop me into hotspots when they need somebody to get their hands dirty.."

And that was when the monster had parted the veil and exposed the dirty little lie he had been living.

"Wake up, Michael. Guys like us, we're weapons. As long as we're useful, they're always gonna want to take us out to play."

That's all he was to them, all he had ever been, and they would never let him go. He saw it clearly now. He had been a naïve fool. He had wasted his whole life on an ideal that didn't exist. Larry had tried to tell him the same thing years ago, but he had refused to believe the words of a psychopath.

"They put us out there, they tell us the end justifies the means and, sooner or later, we believe them."

The end justify the means. He was surprised Agent Strong hadn't used that particular line on him yet...

Maybe if he had been willing to let James and Sonya walk into that ambush outside of the boatyard, the CIA agent would have used it to explain his use of Simon Escher as a team leader.

"If you fail, you and your friends, your mother, you all go back to prison."

"If this operation is blown, I'll bury you."

"You do whatever you have to."

"Just do the job."

Just do the job, regardless of the cost, because what is happening to you, however much my orders are damaging your mind and soul, that doesn't matter.

"They took your life away," Larry reminded him, his voice filled with frustration that his Kid refused to come out to play. "And then they release animals like Simon to do the jobs nobody else wants to do. Can you really be sure Vaughn isn't out there somewhere, too?"

At least Larry had been honest. He had never hid who or what he was, unlike himself or the government he serves - served. "I'm a weapon, baby. I don't need some government aiming me. I put people down, I put some cash in my pocket. So what?"

Michael opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, the car was coming to a stop thirty feet away from him. The engine idling for a moment while the driver decided if it was safe to get out.

This was it, He had chosen his path. He wasn't going to be CIA's weapon any more. If they could free a monster like Simon... If they could use him and justify letting him kill for them...

They no longer deserved his loyalty.

"When we find a monster, we don't make a deal with it. We destroy it."

He held no doubts that James was a killer. But the man' beliefs were pure, which was more than could be said for Agent Strong and, if what Simon had said was true, the whole of the CIA. Strong was only the last in a long line of agents who had wanted somebody else to do their dirty work.

His belief in the agency, in what he was doing, that it was right and proper, had been the only shining light in the world of darkness and deceit he had been thrown into. Without that light to show him the way, without hope, there was nothing to bring him back. He hadn't lied when he told Sonya he had nothing left, that he had lost it all. Duty, honor and the sacred calling of - whatever, as Fiona would have said.

His friends had all moved on, built new lives. They might have missed him during brief spells of nostalgia, but they had been happy. Until he had returned as the agency's latest slightly tarnished toy and slowly but surely dragged them all back into the mire with him.

Yes, they had been there for him, especially Sam and Jesse, backing him up and thank God for them being there when his CIA master made another one of his many tactical errors. If it wasn't for them all, he would have died at least three times by his own count since returning to Miami.

But he couldn't be with them, not any more. They still believed in honor and, by his actions, in his blind obedience to following orders, he had lost that privilege.

He remembered the peace that had settled over him when Sonya had held the gun to his head, asking James if he was finished. He had tilted his head upwards and, with the warmth of the sun on his face, he had closed his eyes, yearning for the mercy of a quick death.

But then James had offered him something else, had shown him a different path. Not one of governments and agencies and bigger pictures, but a pure path with no shades of grey. James told him he was half way there already; aiding their escape had been the first step and now, by exposing himself as a spy, he had taken the second.

The man who had been his enemy forgave his betrayal and offered him a new purpose. And all he had to do was let go of the past, all of it: friends, family, old alliances. He promised him a new family, where he would only find acceptance and support and all he would have to give in return was honesty and his loyalty.

He had wanted death, but instead James gave him a new life.

"I am the only one whoever believed in you. I made you. I am in your head. Everybody thought you had the heart of a boyscout, but I saw your true colors," Larry whispered in his head.

Now somebody else had seen his true colors and they too believed in him. What did he have left to lose? Were the things James asked of him any worse than those ordered by Strong?

"I can't do this any more. Burke nearly had me kill a child," he had pleaded to be released from the deal he had agreed.

"But you didn't," had been the flat uncaring response.

"I have to shoot a friend."

"So what do you want me to do? Hold your hand?"

"Mike, hey Mikey, what the hell happened, brother?"

Michael push himself away from the safety barrier he had been leaning against and straightened up to face the man who was striding angrily towards him. He heard the concern in his friend's voice, but he also heard the disappointment, too.

They thought that James had gotten to him, that Sonya had seduced him. That he had fallen into the trap of many deep cover operations and lost himself in the cover... They were wrong and he was going to have to do something pretty drastic to make them back off.

"So, what do you think will happen to your friends now, Michael?" James had asked him. "They will pay for your actions. Can you live with that?"

Ashamed, he had lowered his head. "No, I have to -" he had choked, too numb to think clearly. Only five minutes earlier, he had been welcoming a traitor's death.

"Don't worry, we'll help you," his leader had promised. "You look tired, Michael. Get some rest. We'll talk later."

And later, they had sat down and James told him him what he had to do.

It was just as James had foreseen. They would send his best friend to bring him back into the fold.

"Hell, Mike, can't you even say hi any more? We've been worried sick about you. Where have you been? Strong is out for your blood, brother, you gotta come in now."

He smiled sadly, knowing this was goodbye, and it had to be done in such a way that the CIA would be left with no doubt it was useless to hang the lives of his friends and family over his head. If it was clear he no longer cared for them, they would be safe.

He looked over his friend's shoulder to where Sonya was hidden with her sniper rifle, ready to back him up if Sam hadn't kept his word and had brought back up along to force his surrender.

"Dammit, Mike, talk to me!" Sam's hand landed on his arm and he stiffened. "Is this about the CIA using Simon?"

He finally made eye contact, hardening his heart. It had to be this way. "I got your message, Sam. What do you want?" He kept his tone flat and neutral.

"What do I want?! I wanna to know what the hell's happened to my best friend! We had both James and Sonya dead to rights and all you hadda do to end this mess was send 'em out the back door. Strong is saying you've gone rogue. Your ma is scared sick she's goin' back in that holding cell."

His mom... His mother still hated him. He had seen it in her eyes. She might have tried on occasion to be civil, but that's all it was... civility. She had Charlie to think of now, a new child to care for. She wouldn't miss him.

He had understood when she had asked him to stay away, though it had hurt. It was another rejection. She said he was too dangerous, that she had to think of what was best for Charlie and she was right. It was just a shame she had never thought to throw out that dangerous man who'd been living in the house when he and Nate were kids.

What had hurt more was he knew from the CIA bugs still in his mother's house how often she'd had Fiona and her now ex-boyfriend Carlos around for dinner and also of Carlos' private little heart to hearts which had made it very plain where her loyalties lay.

"I was his mother. It was my job to protect him from YOU," the vitriol in her tone crushing him.

"Carlos, it isn't my place to tell you this. But if you want to keep Fiona, you should take her as far away from Miami as you can."

"I've got Charlie, now... You do what you have to and I'll do what have to."

A bullet to his heart would have been a kindness. It would have certainly have saved him from the truth of his life.

And his leaving would surely make Fiona happy. She had made it abundantly clear she had a new life, an exciting job, a home.

"I can't just drop everything for you, not any more."

"I can't owe my freedom to you."

"It's already over."

"I have a new life."

She had made it very plain she wanted no part of him... until she'd needed him to save her boyfriend from certain death and then she had been only too happy to take Sonya's help also. At least she hadn't tried to blame Carlos leaving her on their actions to save his life. He sighed. She wouldn't be alone for long... And once he left town, she would be free to stay without having to worry about him dragging her into his mess.

"You'll all be fine, Sam. None of you can be held responsible for my actions this time. You should be happy. You can go back to Elsa, knowing you're in the clear." He crushed his friend mercilessly and he looked him in the eye while doing it. "I've seen the light, I've seen what a waste my life has been. That-"

"Jesus, Mike, can you hear yourself? That's just James gettin' into your head. Please tell me you're not falling for his crap?"

"And working for the people who freed Simon and gave him a job, that's a better choice? You know what he was, what he did – and they just freed him."

"You're not thinking clearly, fella. Yeah, Simon was a mistake and I told Strong that as soon as I found out. But you still have to come in and speak to the bastard, straighten this mess out. Hell, go over the idiot's head and talk to Raines."

Michael shook his head.

"I need the unstoppable sonuvabitch I recruited."

"I want the old Michael Westen, the man before the burn notice and the extended stay in Miami."

What both men had really meant to say was they wanted the man who had cut a bloody path through Russia and Serbia and all stops in between and did it all with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

They wanted Larry's Kid, the Terror of Kiev, the Agency's Unstoppable Bastard. Taking care of black ops that were never officially sanctioned... Kill orders... Extreme Renditions... doing whatever it took to get the job done and no questions asked. He had done every dirty job they had given him and they had thrown him out and abandoned him... Until they needed him again.

He swallowed and took a step back. "Time to go Sam and don't come looking for me."

"Not a chance, brother. You think I'm gonna let you do this? Let you walk away -"

He had misjudged Sam's determination. He turned and his cheek ran straight into Sam's large fist and, as pain exploded in his face, the last piece of left of Michael Westen broke...

He would not be dragged back into a life in chains, to be the agency's toy, to end his days being just like Simon Escher. He blocked the next blow and threw a punch of his own and that was when they toppled over the rail and into the murky water below.

Sam was a former SEAL, but he was a combat diver. They twisted and turned in the water, each trying to get the upper hand. He was also younger, stronger and filled with a pure burning desire to show both his old and new companions where his loyalties lie.

He landed a solid kick to Sam's stomach forcing the air from his opponents lungs and followed it up with a glancing blow to the head hard enough to stun the former SEAL long enough so he could make his escape.

Michael swam away as fast as he could and didn't look back.

()()()()()()()()()()

Fiona

Gulping in deep lungfulls of air, Fiona tried to calm her raging heartbeat and the confusion that rampaged her body. Part of her didn't believe what Sam had told her only a short time ago. No matter how deep Michael was in his cover, she never once believed that he would turn his back on the CIA…or on all of them.

Grief had given way to anger a long time ago and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to beat the crap out of him or kill him on the spot. He'd hurt everyone he was supposed to love by his actions and he'd doomed them to a life behind bars. She had no doubt in her mind that she would be shipped back to Ireland and arrive in a box before she reached dry land. But that wasn't what hurt the most.

She'd had time to mourn the relationship she'd had with Carlos, but she hadn't been grief stricken like she had been when she'd lost Michael. That's when it had hit her, full on and impossible to deny…she was still in love with Michael Westen, even after everything that had happened.

And how could she not be? Only just over a year ago, she had turned herself in to the FBI after she'd killed Larry. She had given up her life, knowing that it had been the only way for her to free him from Anson's grasp. But now it felt like the whole experience had been for nothing. Could they really have drifted so far away from the people they were a few years ago? They had been willing to die together, to go down fighting in a hail of bullets just so they could never be apart…

Taking the stairs two at a time, she raced upwards, following Sam's directions to where Michael was headed. She had no idea what she was going to say to him and she was pretty sure she would be saying hello with her fists. Her breath hurt in her lungs as she pushed her body to extreme limits in her race to reach the top of the last flight of stairs.

Sam's words rang inside her head as she ran, repeating over and over…it's too late. She would never believe Michael would betray all of them like this, not after they'd had his back for so many years… but when she reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open, she knew in her heart that Sam was right.

She saw Michael's head whip around to face her, his eyes devoid of emotion. There was no trace of the man she had loved for so many years, but she had no doubt that she could pull him back from the brink of whatever dark pit he was slipping in to.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, the venom in his voice taking her by surprise.

The anger that had been welling inside her for so many months suddenly bubbled to the surface and she found herself charging towards him, throwing a full punch into his stomach.

He retaliated and shoved her backwards, the force of it causing her to topple to the ground.

She shot him a scathing glare and was on her feet within seconds, shoving him back with all of her might. His actions caused her anger to flare, fuelling her movements as she landed another punch into his chest, followed by another to his chin.

"YOU BASTARD!" she yelled when he caught her fist in his hand and pushed her back.

"Leave Fiona," he barked when she came towards him again. "Just—"

"You expect me to leave now?" she asked in frustration as she stepped towards him again. "You didn't just turn your back on the CIA, you turned your back on us! We're supposed to be your friends!"

"Friends?" Turning his head back to face her, he laughed humourlessly when he waved his hand in her direction. "You?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON ME!"

"Why?" she hissed. "This is because I didn't wait for you? Are you kiddin' me? YOU LEFT."

"I had no—"

"You had no choice?" she finished his sentence for him, anger dripping from her words. "You promised me this would all be over. You told me in Panama we were going to start again—"

"I couldn't keep that promise and you know why," he snapped, his eyes becoming accusing as he glared at her. "And you did okay without me, didn't you?"

"For your information I didn't start seeing Carlos until five months ago. You left…AGAIN… What was I supposed to do? Sit in a burned out shell of what used to be our home and wait for you to remember I was here?"

"So you found a replacement?"

"So did you…" Fiona's voice dropped to a dangerous low when the impact of her words seemed to spark something akin to hurt in her former lover's eyes.

"Fi—"

"At least I didn't take Carlos to our home," she accused. "I didn't screw him in our bed."

The accusations in her voice seemed to disarm some of Michael's anger and he suddenly looked at her as if he finally understood. Hurt and anger collided, the ammunition it provided her words causing more pain that any wound.

Shaking his head, he tried to tell her that it was never like that. He hadn't purposely set out to hurt her but before he could speak she silenced him with her eyes.

"Your mom is terrified she's going back to prison… and she's blaming all of us for it," she told him through a shaky voice. "You're killing her."

"She doesn't care about me," he told her, straightening upwards and turning cold once more.

Fiona glanced to her side and saw what had caused him to become so unresponsive.

Catching Sonya's eye, she followed the other woman as she moved around to Michael's side and she could already feel the deep seated betrayal lingering over her heart.

"You turned you back on us for HER?" Fiona hissed, her fury building. "Have you forgotten how we met? Have you forgotten how we almost died together?"

"ENOUGH!"

Sonya's voice cracked through the air, her voice a warning as she stepped closer to Michael.

"This has nothing to do with you," Fiona growled. "You're just the BITCH who poisoned him against his friends."

"No one poisoned me," Michael told her, his eyes boring into hers. "I made my choice."

"So, what we had meant nothing?" Fiona asked him, knowing the impact of her speech would either anger him or bring him back from the brink. "I gave up my family, my life and my freedom for NOTHING?"

Michael watched her silently, his eyes losing some of the coldness. But before he could respond, she spoke again.

"Have you forgotten the first time we saw each other when I turned myself in?" she asked him, taking another step closer. "Or when I followed you into that bunker because I wanted to die with you? How about the people we helped and the lives we saved? Was it really all for nothing?"

"ENOUGH OF THIS!"

Sonya pulled her gun forward and aimed it directly at Fiona, surprised that the other woman didn't react. Instead, Fiona dropped her arms down to her sides and regarded the gun solemnly before she lifted her gaze to meet Michael's eyes.

"If none of what we had meant anything, then let her kill me," Fiona told him, keeping her eyes locked with Michael. "Because if you decide Sam, Jesse and me are nothing, then there's no point to any of the hell we've all been through."

Michael stilled, his sombre expression slipping when he focused on the gun pointing towards Fiona's chest. Images from their past flashed inside his mind, cascading through his senses like a step by step picture show. Their past, their love, their sacrifices all bombarded his confused brain… but the second he heard the deadly click of the gun Sonya was holding he pushed all of his thoughts aside to focus on the woman he had loved for so many years.

"You should learn to let go," Sonya's voice was cold and unwavering as she looked upon the woman before her like some inconvenient annoyance. "I'm tired of this."

Stepping forward, Michael shook his head and urged Sonya to lower her weapon, but she was focused solely on the woman before her, daring her to move. For her part, Fiona just stood there, her silent challenge confusing him further. Lifting his gaze to hers, he felt the spark of love that had never died away and he couldn't deny that the defeat in her eyes caused chaos to reign inside his body.

Michael heard his own voice calling out for Sonya to wait, his actions a frantic ploy to prevent another death of someone he loved. Time seemed to slow and his words disappeared into the void as a loud crack filled the air…

The End