47redbirds | After the fires before the flood, my sweet baby, I need fresh blood

After the fires before the flood, my sweet baby, I need fresh blood

Mike is a number of things. Secretive, oddly retentive about the chore wheel, Brigg's second-in-command, and smart as a whip. He also trusts Billy. Maybe not implicitly, but he does. It's been a while since Billy's first task, and while he still stays by Mike's side for the most part, the crew's beginning to respect him, too. Not just Johnny--Jakes had made a point to shake his hand after a particularly hairy getaway between him and the Chechens.

Mike starts drinking with Billy after a good run. He's damn good at pool and can hold his beer for someone who looks so straight-laced, even with scruff. Boy-band or not, the only personal thing that wound up causing a stir outside what they do is Mike punching someone in The Drop because they were harassing a girl. For a criminal, he's oddly well put together.

It's one o'clock in the morning when Mike texts him. It's nothing but an address to a motel and a room number, but when Mike texts it's mandatory Billy shows up. Another exercise, maybe. Another deal. The whole Graceland group had been very careful with Mike--most of the stuff he was a part in he either never got to actually see the transaction or it was far too minor. Not all the heat is off of him, it seems, but he's trusted. Mike trusts him enough to send him the text. It's the room to the corner, and it's run down and shitty. When Mike opens the door, it looks like he hasn't slept in days despite the fact that Billy was asked to get him out of bed since Paige wasn't there. He's also smoking, which is both disconcerting and never seen before.

There's something else, though, and it's not just his hair pushed back from his face. The white tank top he's wearing is spattered with red liquid, as is his chin. His hands are covered, even the one holding the cigarette while he exhales and lets the other in. It's blood.

Once Mike closes the door, it's immediately apparent why: there's a girl in the bathtub, the tiles covered as someone stabbed her more than a few times, and on the bed a man. What is probably a man judging from the fact that he's naked--his face has been mangled, it seems, by a rather large number of bullets to the face as well as a champagne bottle.

Mike takes another drag of the cigarette.

"Thanks for meeting me here."

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And then billy grabs his hand. mike mistakes it as something else entirely, not someone who is choosing diplomatic answers to get him to go away. Mike sees someone holding his hand and comforting him--because Mikes never really had that before. Never, until falling in with billy. Paige, maybe, but this is different.

"You're right. But I'm still sorry," he says finally. Billy is good, and right, and Mike goes ahead and ruins him because he's too ambitious. Too selfish. Too fucking selfish, he's the one seeking comfort now. And billy? billy is giving him it, soft touches and careful phrases. "I don't want to turn you into me," he says softly. Moves his face up to Billy's, getting closer. Closing his eyes, Mike moves to catch the others lips. Tender and soft, and so very needy.

One of the things Billy had actually looked for was a sign that Mike had an interest in men. He'd seen no sign of it. Nothing beyond Mike's usual charm that extended to everyone. It was Billy's default path. So when he found it closed off, he didn't push it further. So when Mike leaned closer, he expected softly spoken words. Or an embrace. Anything but lips on his.

He went rigid. That sinister demand of "You're not going to run, are you?" rang through his head. That look in Mike's eye. The metaphorical gun pressed under his chin. For a few terrifying beats of his heart, he was afraid to movie. He couldn't even think. Everything in him just screamed "WHY?!" trying to figure this strange turn of events out.

Carefully and with great caution, Billy placed his hand on Mike's chest and pulled back. He let all he felt show on his face. Suspicion, fear, confusion. "What are you doing?" he asked, still shaken and stunned. Worried he'd hear those words again.

Shit.

Selfish, selfish selfish. Mike pulls back, trying to look for something. Trying to find some sort of mutual reciprocation, but all he sees is Billy. Billy looking worried. Billy looking almost afraid of him.

Mike's at a position he doesn't care to be in--he wants to help Billy, but he's not sure he can. He's the source of all that's bothering him, isn't he? And yet all Mike wants to do is talk to the other, quiet and reassuring. It doesn't tale him long to put his own shit behind, to turn it off--to have that section of him retreat.

..Is he so selfish, though, that he's doing this to make himself feel better? Or because he's genuinely worried about Billy? He's not even sure himself, even though Mike desperately wishes it's the latter. That's when he catches it--that brief look of fear on the other's face.

Billy's scared of him.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry--that was uncalled for," He manages. Offers the flightiest of smiles, and puts a hand on his shoulder. He wants to touch Billy, to remind him that it's alright. To be there for him. "You're hurting, and.. I want to do something to make it stop."

That only confused Billy further. Only muddied the whole situation. If Mike had pressed on, insisted on making the kiss happen, Billy knew what to do. It would mean Mike was truly the evil thing he'd shown in that hotel room and Billy could have slammed that lid back on in a flash. But instead, Mike showed remorse. Awareness. Tenderness. Not the sort of things one expected to find in a mobster.

He needed to act fast. Especially since Mike apparently didn't know what to do. He was already seeing ways he could spin this and use it. What he could do to get the time he needed to get himself back together without compromising the mission. Carefully, he reached up and took Mike by the wrist. He deliberately pushed the hand back toward Mike.

"The first thing you need to do," he said, keeping his voice soft, still letting that fear show through, "Is to stop touching me. Just for tonight. It's...it's making everything worse."

Mike stares at the other for a moment, hand back to himself, and he finds himself nodding. "Okay," He says softly. He's careful to keep his voice neutral, careful to make sure there's no judgement or the like in his voice. Just a tad bit of sympathy.

He really fucked Billy up. The other was scared to be touched by him, and Mike can't imagine, suddenly, what his presence must feel like. Stifling, he imagines. Terrifying. He licks his lips, nodding to himself, and chugging the rest of his beer down.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" He asks, voice soft and as gentle as he could. He needed to do this right. He needed to fix Billy.

"Is that really an option for me?" Billy sounded almost hopeful that it might be, keeping any judgement or accusation from his voice. But he shook his head and looked back out over the dark water.

"I took a shower not to get clean, but to be alone. To clear my head. And you were there. I came out here, thinking it would take even you a while to find me. And yet here you are." He was piecing it together as he spoke. Mike's driving need to fix him after he'd begged to be let out of the task. It wasn't as though Mike had done this on accident. Billy had made it obvious to him, and he chose to ignore it. It wasn't that he resented it, Mike was the bad guy. The one Billy was supposed to bring down. He just didn't like feeling as though he were to be Mike's salvation.

"I wonder," meaning he knew "If this isn't so much about my current state, but rather it's about your role in creating it." A gentle way of pointing out just how selfish and twisted Mike was being. "I can fix myself, worry you not. I'm not nearly as innocent or fragile as you've convinced yourself I am." He did shoot a guy with impressive precision on their first day, after all.

"Billy.."

He was right, though. So right that Mike couldn't say anything, not really. Couldn't defend himself from the truth. It's a slap in the face, but nothing compared to what Billy's feeling.

Briggs had said to watch the guy, not hound him. Billy needs his space. Mike can't fix him, Billy has to fix himself. And yet Mike is such a bleeding heart he wants to so, so badly, to just beg for forgiveness.

He stands up. Mike's tried advice, tried relating, tried physical comfort... He can't do anything if he was the root of the problem. He'd apologized, profusely, but he wonders if Billy even realizes that with the state he's in.

"Okay," He says finally. "But if you need me..." No, that was stupid. Mike tries again. "If I had anyone else, anyone at all to help me, I would have gotten them. Not you. You didn't need this." He finishes his beer, and leaves Billy with his. Wants to make some sort of crack like Jakes would, but can't. Instead, he quietly leaves.

Billy wasn't going to let Mike go that easily. Mike needed to know the depth of what he was dealing with here. Billy at least had a clear enough head now to see it. To understand the broader implications here. Mike only felt remorse in seeing the outcome, but would not change the fact that it happened. He had a cleaning crew. He had more than just those who lived at the house, and yet he'd insisted Billy help. The driver. The newest member and least important. Even after Billy wanted out. And then it was nothing major. An extra pair of hands to check the room before someone else removed the body.

"Mike," he said, not turning around. "You can't keep saying that as though it absolves you of everything. But that's not true. But what you showed me in there tonight..." He shook his head. He'd already said he chose to be there. He couldn't change his story now. "I will continue to be your driver, but should there ever be a time when I need someone to lean on, I don't think you're the one I'd feel comfortable turning to."

"Fuck, Billy. " he's not mad. Billy's not lashing out or anything. Mike is just left with a stab if guilt. Idly, he wonders if he had a pack of cigarettes. Something to smoke. Or maybe he'll just get really fucking drunk and try to forget how horrible of a person he is.

"It's funny," he states. "Everyone in the house wanted to trust you. I was the only one who thought you were suspicious, and now that this happens. I trust you, but..." Billy, apparently, doesn't trust Mike. "I'll go. I'll go, but Billy? I... You're right. And if I wasn't so fucked up I should have seen it sooner."

Slowly, Billy turned to look up at Mike. He was genuinely feeling better. On more solid ground. Now that he had some breathing room and Mike wasn't pushing him. He could have let that show, but there was something else. He truly wanted to believe that Mike felt bad. That this guilt were real and not some mask to cover what he'd become. And despite himself, Billy wondered if Mike could be saved. He wasn't the boss himself (or at least that's what Billy still assumed), and he'd wanted to join the FBI. It was too late for that, but there were still options.

What was funny was that Mike was the only one to be right. To see that there was something off about Billy. Billy who was the slickest and most skilled of his team when it came to the under cover thing. He could be anything, do anything. And people usually trusted and believed him just on sheer force of personality. Except Mike. Mike was sharp. He'd just ended up on the wrong side.

"You can't lean on me to be your salvation, Mike." It was said with the utmost sympathy, before slowly getting to his feet. "If what happened truly bothers you so, it's only you who can change that. You have to go one way or the other, but I can't take you there. If, however, you need someone to talk to, someone not..." He gestured toward the house, "...deeply entrenched in all of this, I'll listen." He held up a finger, almost a warning. "But not if you're going to twist what you're dealing with to be about me." Then a gesture as if to wipe everything clear. "Only frank and honest discussions."

"Frank and honest," Mike repeats. Laughs not because he thinks it's funny, but more because the whole thing seems absurd.

"You sound more and more like a cop, Billy. " he's joking, if lightly. Trying to lick his wounds. Going back to his normal self. He scrunches his nose, offers a small , humourless smile.

"I'll keep it in mind, though. " and he leaves.

Billy just gave a nod, letting Mike go, despite there being more he wanted to say. Mike was the one who said there was little difference between this and the feds. Why shouldn't they sound like cops? The sheer amount of blatant murder regular cops got away with--those corrupt sort who didn't live by Billy's code--were in no way different from Mike and his crew.

Billy stayed out there for a good long while. Just alone. Going through his usual mental routine to put everything back in it's place. The disaster was over. The aftershocks finished. It would take a while to clear up the finer details, and some things would never be the same, but he was starting to feel a lot more like himself. And by the time he could start to make out the line between sky and sea as the sun started to lighten the sky behind him, he was no longer afraid of Mike. He had it all sorted. Mike was part of what he was here to stop. He couldn't get attached. And Mike was not to be taken lightly. But despite himself, he kept one tiny notion that he set aside. That crazy idea that Mike could be saved.

When he returned to the house finally, he slipped into his room on the lower floor. He stripped off his shirt and collapsed into the bed. He was exhausted and finally felt like he could sleep without nightmares.

He intended to greet the day as if nothing more than a late night job had occurred. No one in the house had to know how shaken he'd been. But above all else, no one would know about that kiss. The kiss that he wanted to put from his mind, because Mike was a monster trying to act like a person. That kiss that was the only thing that occupied his thoughts as he tried to sleep.

Johnny jumps on Billy's bed, congratulating him. It's bright and early and they have a lot to do, mostly routine runs, though. Jakes actually extends a hand and says thanks for last night, and Charlie lets a smile show. She knows what Billy did, just not who for or why. Paige Immediately pulls Billy into a hug and kisses his cheek, but not before whispering about congratulating him properly later.

When Mike and Briggs come out, both of them look absolutely horrible. From the looks of the, their early morning used or jog didn't even exist. Hell, Briggs was still in his boxers and Mike was just wearing his pajama bottoms and a tank top.

"What the fuck ran over you two?" Charlie asks. Mike flashes a smile.

"Planning," Briggs says charismatically.

"Drinking," Mike replies more accurately, plumps down next to Billy and cradling his head in his hands. Charlie simply smacks the wooden spoon on the rim of the pan, causing both to groan.

"You guys are grown men, don't get a hangover when you have to work the next day. "

"Hey," Mike snapped, "it was a shitty one."

"Every day is shitty. Grow up. "

Mike sighs, and grabs orange juice. "Morning, Billy. Sleep ok?"

It took Johnny physically hauling Billy out of bed before he gave in and got up. What he wouldn't have given for a few more hours of sleep. How the hell did this house always wake up so early when so much of their work happened at night?

He snatched up his shirt and pulled on to join the rest of the house. He was rather surprised that not only did they all know, but they were happy for him. He accepts it all with warm, easy smiles and words of thanks. Acting for all the world like the night before had been smooth sailing. Paige even got a wink out of him.

However, when Mike and Briggs emerged, a shadow passed over his face. There was Mike himself, of course, then the two details that plagued his dreams. That blasted kiss, and that mention of Briggs and a plastic bag. Plus all of the blood and gore and torture, but that was pretty much par for the course in his dreams. When Mike sat down, Billy sudden realized there was no more coffee. So he got up to start making some. To be helpful. Barely even giving Mike another glance.

Then Mike had to address him directly. "As well as can be expected," Billy said over his shoulder, not letting any of the tension show in his voice. The pause was just long enough for someone who knew the truth to notice, before he added, "Not so easy getting proper rest when you've got that--" he jabbed a thumb at Johnny, "--as an alarm clock."

Mike didn't really say much. Instead, stared at Billy for a few moments, eyes narrowing slightly. Suspicious. Chuck seems to be the only one who notices, and she frowns.

"Mike, you wanna take Paige today? I wanna borrow Billy's wheels."

Mike blinks, confused, but nods. Paige pats Mike on the shoulder, but Mike's gaze is on Billy, still. Trying to decide something. In truth, he was shifting. Trying to figure out why Charlie suddenly wants to 'borrow Billy.' Is it more work? An investigation? On what, what happened? Or was it something else?

"Yeah," He mumbles. "Sure, go ahead."

"Yeah--Billy, you want to get ready?"

Mike sent another worried look to Billy, but otherwise kept quiet. He's looking for some angle, some desperate way to hold on to Billy so he can ask him why. Get him to trust him, somehow, but he knows Billy needs his space. Even if Mike's desperate to show him he cares, he needs to let him calm. Needs to also accept the fact that it might not even happen, but Mike's stubborn. Mike is a bull in a china shop, emotionally.

"Have fun," He greets, not bothering to hide his look of suspicion.

Billy had been hoping to have a quiet day. The sort of day where he could slip away from the house for a while, have a bit more time to himself and to check in with his team. A chat with Casey or Martinez would be refreshing. He could make his report. He could have a moment to reset. But it seemed that wouldn't be the case.

But with Charlie? Was that a good idea?

He looked over Charlie, then Mike, the Briggs. Uncertain. "What's the bossman say?" He asked, still under the impression that this had to go through Briggs.

Briggs, raising his eyes and still looking like shit, nodded. "Boss says go ahead. Mike and I are--"

"--Are going to clean up your act--"

"--have things to do anyway," Briggs finished over Charlie's voice, and Johnny, coffee in hand, snorted. Mike would have rolled his eyes if he weren't actually terrified of Chuck.

"Yes ma'am," Mike states, and Charlie's out of the house with Billy after that incredibly quickly.

"Just throw me off at Orlando's place, I'll be there for a while, but while we're there you want to tell me what the fuck is up with you and Mike?"

Edited 2015-07-21 09:01 (UTC)

Billy left with Charlie, a little confused. He still had sleep in his eyes and hadn't really had breakfast, and everyone got to the coffee before him. He didn't even have shoes on, not even sandals. So he makes no attempt to hide his confusion at her sudden question.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. "I'd be glad to tell you everything," or whatever it was he could come up with to cover the weirdness, "But you mind if I at least get my shoes first?"

"Yeah, fine, hurry up," Charlie waits, and Mike and Briggs have already slunk off somewhere else, breakfast in hand.

Chuck's in Billy's car already, sunglasses on, looking halfway between annoyed and stoic like always. She's in the passenger's seat, bag on her lap, sunglasses perched on her head. When Billy slides in she smiles, though strained, and immediately starts:

"You want to let me in on what happened in the kitchen?" So slight, so hard to pick up on but Chuck got it. She got it right away because she knew Mike so well. Briggs, too.

Billy took his time getting dressed. But he didn't go for the full look he usually went for. He flat out didn't have the energy for it. But he at least swapped for a pair of baggy khaki shorts and a dark polo shirt. He slipped on his sandals. But by then, he still didn't have an idea of what he'd tell Charlie about whatever weirdness he was picking up on. He doubted she'd accept them being tired to excuse it. She was too observant for her own good.

By the time he grabbed his keys, he decided to be semi-honest. No details, but a rough sketch. Definitely no mention of Whistler. That would devastate Charlie. But it was still a surprise to be hit with the question the moment he sat down behind the wheel. He looked uncertain for a moment, delaying as he got himself settled.

With a heavy sigh he said, "How much do you know about what happened last night?" They'd obviously been told something, but he didn't know what.

"I know Mikey was following the usual order to have two people on a scene before clean-up crew, he chose you, and it was your first, but here's the thing I'm not getting, it's that Briggs and Mikey are hungover."

She motions for the other to go to her destination, a usual place most of them just referred to as Orlando's as another unknown inside nickname.

"It means our boys had a chat. Chats with Mike and Briggs aren't good."

Billy gave a slight shrug, following her directions without really thinking. Half the time he didn't know what the places were he drove people to. He followed directions, noted locations, and didn't know what went on inside.

"Oh you'd know a lot more about their chats than I would. Word only came down that my ban on the upper level's been lifted." He glanced toward with a vague smile. "Personally, I retired after we got back. A shower, a bit of a walk, and then I was out like a light. Guess your boys have a vastly different method of decompressing than me."

Charlie gives the other a hard look, but the annoyance is gone. Instead, it's replaced by a complete and utter blunt stare of 'I know, dipshit,' and she leans back in the car.

"Whatever you said shook Mike enough that he actually had a heart-to-heart with Briggs. I just want to know my boys are alright," She says curtly, "Just want to make sure he's that affected by something good. Your act was great this morning but Mike looked like you'd shot him in the gut, so I figure something's up. You wanna fill me in?"

Billy's shoulders sagged. He'd thought he could slip out from under Charlie's scrutiny with some vague words and trying to act like it was no big deal. Because his charm never worked on her. But she was too good. And Mike couldn't put on a mask over this. That worried him. In a way he didn't quite understand. In a way that somewhat scared him.

The truth. He'd decided on the truth.

"One thing I've not told anyone is I've got this issue with blood. My only phobia. And what Mike called me for, well, I'm sure you know. It wasn't pretty. And Mike, he was scary. On a level I'd never seen before. After, he seemed pretty shaken that he forced me into that. As you can imagine, I wasn't in the best shape to console him for it after."

Charlie was quiet. Her being quite was a fairly terse thing as she mulled over what she wanted to say. With Mike, it was easy silences. Ones that normally lead to the bodyguard staring out the window and daydreaming like he was in high school as they drove.

"He's gotta keep that wall up and so do you," She said finally, "If you guys lose your shit we're going to be stabbing ourselves in the foot. You want to know what I think?" No, but Charlie's going to say it anyway:

"It's Briggs. He pushes and pushes and is so freaking goal oriented I could just kick him in the goddamn balls. This shit happens because Briggs doesn't give a shit if people are ready, he insists on his goddamn rules."

Not Briggs. Mike. But Charlie doesn't even let up: "Billy, you ever see Mikey like that you snap him out of it or so help me God, but you're the only other sane person here and we need that. Desperately. I thought it was just going to be me all my life."

They're already pretty close to Orlando's, and Charlie seems to already be getting ready.

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