FIC: The Past Is Rarely Behind Us (1/?)
Title: The Past Is Rarely Behind Us (1/?)
Author: circephan
Fandom: Burn Notice
Characters: Sam, Michael, Fiona, Nate, Madeline, Agent Harris, Agent Lane
Pairing(s): Eventual Michael/Sam, slight Michael/Fiona, and of course slight Sam/Random women.
Rating: Teen (for now)
Warnings: None as of yet.
Summary: Sam's past comes back to bite him and he's forced to go on the run, but Michael refuses to let him go alone.
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Ten a.m. and the sun was already beating down on the beaches of Miami, Florida. Locals and tourists alike wore dark shades over their eyes to protect their eyes from the light reflecting of the clear white sands. Dressed in a pair of green swim shorts and an unbuttoned Havana shirt, Sam Axe lounged by a clear blue pool, soaking in the summer sun. This was what retirement was all about, he decided. Sure, he liked to help people, and he'd give Michael a hand any day, but sometimes he liked to be able to just kick back without getting chased or shot at.
"Sam Axe."
One deep brown eye cracked open to focus on the speaker addressing him. He blinked as he saw a familiar faces of two FBI agents. As always, they were dressed in stark black suits, pretty much standing out like sore thumbs. Putting on a smooth smile to cover the sudden nervousness he felt, Sam sat up on his elbows, tugging at the gold chain around his neck as it shifted with his movement.
"Hey guys. Here to buy me lunch?" he asked, keeping on a calm appearance as he reached for his drink.
"No Sam," Harris responded flatly. "You're under arrest."
Sam almost laughed. Almost... until he saw the straight faces that the feds wore. "What? What for?" His brows furrowed in confusion. Sure he'd broken the law a couple times recently, but he, Michael, and Fiona had carefully covered their tracks to all of those. They may know who it is, but they certainly didn't have the evidence to arrest anyone.
"Vietnam," Lane answered, his voice a cold snap. He reached out to grab Sam's arm, roughly pulling him out of his lounge chair.
"Vietnam?!" the ex-Navy Seal snapped, yanking his arm away. "I haven't been there since-... since..." His eyes widened. No... no, that couldn't be right. Judging by the look on the feds faces, it was right. He should've acted smart about this. Gone with them and found a quiet way out. But instinct took over. Sam turned tail and took off running, not caring when his sandles were left behind. The pavement burned, but he hardly noticed, his mind spinning at a thousand miles a minute. Behind him he heard Harris and Lane swear and start after him.
Sam weaved through people, making sure to stay in crowds because he knew that they wouldn't shoot into them. They yelled at people to get down, but luckily not all of his skills had deteriorated. And a few years of helping Michael out had slowly gotten him back into shape, at least enough to keep him alive. Sam turned sharply down the street, smiling in relief when his caddy came into view. He slid in immediately, silently thanking anyone listening that he had the keys in his pocket. The engine roared to life as he stuck them into the ignition and he wasted no time pulling out.
He didn't even hear the angry shouts of people as he sped through traffic. His heart was pounding in his ears and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. How had they found out? Glancing in his rear-view mirror, he spotted a slick black vehicle driving behind him, matching his speed and starting to pick up. Shit. He slowed down a little, not wanting to get caught on TV in a high-speed chase. Instead, he turned the wheel a good 180 degrees, hitting the brakes at the same time so that the caddy spun around with a screech. Almost immediately, he hit the ignition again, glancing to the side and sending Harris and Lane a brief, guilty smile as he passed them going the opposite way.
With a good lead on them, Sam made sure to hit as many turns as possible, keeping himself concealed within the traffic. He glanced at his rear-view mirror again. He didn't see the black vehicle with dark-tinted windows, but he kept driving for a good 20 minutes anyways.
Finally, he came to a slow stop under a bridge. The area was pretty empty. No one really went there, as it simply led to a part of the beach with jagged rocks and too large of waves to properly enjoy. The only people that passed by was the occasional daring surfer.
Sam took a deep breath, leaning forward to pear out the windshield, up at the concrete street bridge. It was dark and it smelled vaguely of god knows what wretched thing, but right now, it was what he needed. He leaned to the side a little, opening the glove box to grab a silver cellphone. It was a cheap one with only a grainy camera as an add on, but it was secure, registered under a fake name. He liked to keep it, just in case. It seems his foresight had paid off.
He hesitated, considering calling Michael, but then thought better of it. The feds knew he and Michael were friends... they were probably listening to both his and Fiona's calls. He hesitated for a long moment before dialing a number. He closed his eyes, counting the rings. One. Two. Three.
"C'mon, pick up..." he begged softly to no one in particular.
Four rings.
Hey, this is-
Sam was about to hang up when the voice mail cut off.
"Hello? This is Nate."
The ex-Navy Seal smiled in relief. "Nate. Uh... hey. This is Sam. Sam Axe."
He almost laughed softly, able to actually hear the smile in the kid's voice. "Oh, Sam. Whatcha doing calling me? Michael's not in trouble, is he?"
"Uh, no, no he's not." Sam took a deep breath. "I kind of am. Look... I just...." He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just call Mikey, alright? Don't mention my name. Just tell him his buddy's still owes him a drink, so he'd better call.
Just as he heard it come, Sam could hear the smile fade away. "Er... yeah, sure Sam. Everything alright? Anything I can do?"
"Nah Nate, thanks though. Just do me this favor, alright?" He was a good guy... Took after his older brother, Sam supposed.
"Sure thing, Sam. Call me if you need anything, alright?"
"I will, Nate." No, he probably wouldn't. It was already bad enough that he was dragging Michael into this. He didn't want to drag his family in too. "Thanks. Talk to you later."
"Bye."
The other line went dead. Sam took a deep breath, hanging up his phone. Both of his hands moved to grip the steering wheel, despite the fact that he wasn't going anywhere. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on his knuckles and just letting everything process. There were very few people who knew about what had happened in Vietnam. One of them had obviously let something slip. The idea caused anger to well up inside of him. Someone had betrayed him... but the feeling was followed closely by fear.
Now what?
He turned the phone all the way up so that he couldn't possibly miss a call and climbed out of the caddy, kneeling down to reach under the seat. A pistol was stashed beneath. He just had to be ready.
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First attempt at a Burn Notice fic. Oh god. xD