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gen_battleTitle: I’ll Be Waving As You Walk Away
Author: Missy (bring_me_sugar)
Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Background Sam/Elsa; Sam and Michael gen
Rating/Category/Trigger and Content Warning: PG; drama, angst
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me, belongs to USA Network, etc.
Spoilers: general show spoilers up to season 6; AU.
Summary: Michael tries to talk Sam into retiring, and Sam finds what was once an easy decision is awfully difficult.
Notes/Warnings: Written forgen_battle, prompt: Goodbye
Sam doesn’t have words to describe how much this is going to kill him. But once Michael gets something stuck in his craw there’s no budging him.
“You need to stay here,” he says, hovering over his hospital bed, bangs still damp from his seaside adventure.
“Mikey,” he begins, but Michael cut him off with a shake of his head and a wracking cough.
“You’re missing part of your spleen and you almost died in an explosion in my name. Enough’s enough, Sam.” His look is stony, serious. “You stay. I go.”
“You’re no Iron Giant,” Sam grins.
Now he can do nothing but lie very still and brood over the possibility of a life without spycraft. One thought rolls through his mind with continual and numbing frequency.
Elsa might not be worth it.
All of the massages he’s had, the luxuries, the noontime wake-up calls, the massages under the beating sunlight. None of it compares to being jammed in a Fi’s dinky little Hyundai working surveillance, or digging through a mountain of files to find out’s trying to kill some guy they’re both trying to protect. This is his lifeblood, his family and, by God, being with them’s better than having the finest wine at his fingertips.
When he’s discharged the following month, Michael’s already on his case, already spewing out his prepared speech. “If you ever want back once we’re settle in,” he says grandly, “you’re always welcome to it.” He’s brought a case of beer for Sam to sip, and he thinks to himself that Elsa could buy him a thousand more – fancier brands, higher quality, from exotic ports that even Mikey’s never laid eyes on.
And he realizes that he wants nothing more than to sit in a cheap motel room and split his first six-pack with his friends.
Sam’s half-smile tells Michael everything he needs to know, and ties a thick knot in his throat. “Save the goodbyes for my funeral pal. I’m all in.”
Author: Missy (
bring_me_sugar)Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Background Sam/Elsa; Sam and Michael gen
Rating/Category/Trigger and Content Warning: PG; drama, angst
Word Count: 400
Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me, belongs to USA Network, etc.
Spoilers: general show spoilers up to season 6; AU.
Summary: Michael tries to talk Sam into retiring, and Sam finds what was once an easy decision is awfully difficult.
Notes/Warnings: Written for
gen_battle, prompt: GoodbyeSam doesn’t have words to describe how much this is going to kill him. But once Michael gets something stuck in his craw there’s no budging him.
“You need to stay here,” he says, hovering over his hospital bed, bangs still damp from his seaside adventure.
“Mikey,” he begins, but Michael cut him off with a shake of his head and a wracking cough.
“You’re missing part of your spleen and you almost died in an explosion in my name. Enough’s enough, Sam.” His look is stony, serious. “You stay. I go.”
“You’re no Iron Giant,” Sam grins.
Now he can do nothing but lie very still and brood over the possibility of a life without spycraft. One thought rolls through his mind with continual and numbing frequency.
Elsa might not be worth it.
All of the massages he’s had, the luxuries, the noontime wake-up calls, the massages under the beating sunlight. None of it compares to being jammed in a Fi’s dinky little Hyundai working surveillance, or digging through a mountain of files to find out’s trying to kill some guy they’re both trying to protect. This is his lifeblood, his family and, by God, being with them’s better than having the finest wine at his fingertips.
When he’s discharged the following month, Michael’s already on his case, already spewing out his prepared speech. “If you ever want back once we’re settle in,” he says grandly, “you’re always welcome to it.” He’s brought a case of beer for Sam to sip, and he thinks to himself that Elsa could buy him a thousand more – fancier brands, higher quality, from exotic ports that even Mikey’s never laid eyes on.
And he realizes that he wants nothing more than to sit in a cheap motel room and split his first six-pack with his friends.
Sam’s half-smile tells Michael everything he needs to know, and ties a thick knot in his throat. “Save the goodbyes for my funeral pal. I’m all in.”
no subject
Date: 2013-03-17 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-29 05:54 pm (UTC)