Michael sat at their regular table Carlito's outdoor patio sipping an iced tea as he gazed at the stream of beach clad tourists that flowed past. Sam pulled up a chair next to his friend who slid him a bottle of imported beer across the table.

"That was mighty thoughtful of you Brother," The older man applied a firm elbow to his buddy's arm to acknowledge the courtesy.

"Anytime," he replied dryly.

Michael's somber mood came as a surprise to Sam. He knew that his friend had recently reunited with his girlfriend Fiona after several months of separation. "So I wasn't expecting to hear from you. I thought you and Fi would be taking time to get a… reacquainted," he said with a goofy grin.

Michael showed little amusement, "Yeah well, it turns out it might be better for me to spend some time away from the loft for a while," as he turned back and stared absently at the crowd.

"Well I could use some backup with a case that a buddy of mine gave me but are you sure about this Mike? You took time off from the CIA to stick close to home for a while. I thought you two were practically on your honeymoon. She was gone for a long time."

"Apparently, in four months a lot of things can change." Michel sipped his iced tea again.

Sam coughed on a sip of his beer. "Mikey, what's going on? Is Fi okay?" as he dabbed his mouth with a cocktail napkin. He knew the depth of affection between the couple but had worried about the long-term consequences of the separation and all the events leading up to it.

"I don't know Sam. She has been so distant." Michael paused and stirred the ice in his glass. "She won't talk to me about anything... It's like she wants to pretend that the last four months never happened."

Sam leaned back in his chair. "Well, I can understand that. Federal prison is no cake walk. Do you think she's…?" He hesitated to give voice to his thoughts. "I don't know. Maybe she's…"

"I have no idea what she's thinking now, Sam." He shook his head in frustration. "She spends most of her time at my Mom's house or at the beach doing yoga."

"So it hasn't been the happy reunion you were expecting."

"Not in the last week." He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the table. "Everything was fantastic when we were in the Keys but it changed the minute we got back to the loft. She's been really irritable. And when she's home it seems like she can't stand being around me."

Sam had seen Mike rattled like this before, especially in the past few months. He had hoped that after their reunion the couple would be able to have some peace in their lives. But he was not all together surprised by Michael's revelation. There was bound to be blow back from the chaos that Anson Fullerton had created in all of their lives. Sam had been with Fiona in the hours before she turned herself over to the FBI. He had found her at the loft where Michael, the man she loved most in the world, had left her handcuffed to the wall.

"Well, you two still have things to work out. Just give it some time," as he took another pull from his beer.

"Yeah, I got that," Michael replied sarcastically.

Unsure of what to say next to cheer up his melancholy friend, Sam mustered the simplest advice he could think of. "Why don't you take her on another trip? Hasn't she always said she wants to go back to Paris?"

"She can't. She promised Pearce she would stay close to Miami for the next couple months."

"Well, can she still go to the range? Firearms always seemed to cheer Fi up." He laughed and smiled a big grin.

Michael looked at him sideways. "I don't see how that would help matters."

Sam hoped he might be on to something even if only to make his buddy laugh for a moment. "Think about it. It's a stroke of genius really." The older man leaned back in his chair and rested his arms behind his head thoughtfully. "Remember what it took to clear the air between you and Jesse. You burned him; he shot you to keep somebody else from killing you. You guys are best pals now."

"I don't think shooting me would resolve the fact that she went to prison to get Anson off my back. It would just get her sent back there." Mike gave him a half-hearted smile to acknowledge the effort.

"But what if," Sam paused and held his hand out in front of himself for emphasis, "and don't get all bent out of shape cuz it is just my theory, but maybe Fi's a little ticked off about…everything that happened?"

Michael clenched his jaw. "I didn't make her turn herself in to the FBI. I tried to stop her. I handcuffed her to a wall to stop her!"

"Yeah, I was there. I still have the scar," Sam said calmly and pointed to the mark on his forehead.

"You think she blames me for going to jail?" Disbelief and confusion were written all over Michael's face.

"Not in so many words. But the thing with you and Larry and Anson and blowing up the British consulate and blackmail and the CIA and prison…"

"Get to your point," Michael said dryly.

Sam sat forward in his chair. "It's as simple as this. Fiona made a huge sacrifice for you because she loves you. But it didn't change the consequences for her."

"She knows everything that I did to get her out. I wasn't going to let her…" Michael face reddened with frustration.

"I know that Mikey and Fi does too. But maybe..." He paused and selected his words carefully. "Maybe it all just took its toll on her and its not realistic to expect everything to go back to the way it was, at least not right away."

Michael was stunned by Sam's statement. But as the words sank in his expression softened and he returned his gaze towards the crowd. "If you're right, then what the hell should I do about it?"

Sam called the waiter over to order another round of drinks and turned back to Michael to explain his idea. "Think about it, Fi's always been a world-class firecracker. That will never change, I'm sure of that." He smiled as he remembered the day they renewed their acquaintance when she hurled a beer bottle at his head. "But maybe all of this business of being locked up has shaken her confidence. She just needs a reminder of what a tough cookie she is."

Michael stared at his hands in front of him thoughtfully. It was not the dumbest idea Sam had ever had but he would not give up his poker face too easily. "So how do I do that?" he said stoically.

"I don't know. She probably just wants to beat the crap out of you for a while." He laughed and took swig of the fresh bottle of beer the waiter had placed on the table. "Once she gets mad enough, she'll get it out of her system. Then she'll feel right as rain."

"You really think target practice would do it?" Michael questioned as he stood up and grabbed the check.

"Yeah, it's worth a try," Sam shrugged.

"We'll just have the drinks today," as he waved off the menus offered to him by the waiter and dropped a twenty on the table. "Thanks Sam, you gave me an idea."

"Anytime, Brother," as Sam patted Mike on the shoulder, "but I'd stay away from the bull's-eye if I were you."

######

Later that afternoon, Fiona walked into the loft carrying her yoga mat in a sling over her shoulder. She slipped off her shoes by the front door.

"How was the beach?" Michael called from the other side of the loft.

"Fine." She looked briefly towards Michael and continued to brush the sand from her bare feet.

"Not too hot today?" he asked as he adjusted the tension line to heavy bag which hung near the stairs to the office.

"Nope, I'll take fresh air and sunlight whenever I can get it," she quipped with a hint of sarcasm. She glanced again at Michael who met her gaze briefly and looked away.

"Oh, you set up that thing up again." She had been so pleased when the tattered bag disappeared as she and her personal belongings moved into the loft almost two years ago. Now she wondered about the purpose of its reemergence. "How long do you plan on leaving it up?"

"Maybe for a few days, I thought we could work out together." He handed her a pair of bubble gum colored boxing mitts.

"Pink? Michael. Really?" She gave him a look that questioned if he had lost his mind.

"If you're not up for it, I understand." He pulled the gloves back with a tease.

Never one to back away from a challenge she replied coyly, "No, it could be fun; it's been a while since I've kicked your ass." She poked him lightly in the chest and gave him a predatory glance. "I'm all sandy. I'll go change," as she glided across the loft.

Michael watched her disappear behind the screen to the dressing area as a smile spread across his face. He had seen the glint of fire in her eyes just a moment ago. His Fiona was still in there. Now, he just needed to draw, or perhaps provoke, her to come back out to him.

She reappeared a few minutes later in a fitted tank top and black yoga pants. He admired her form and was about to compliment her workout attire when he thought better of it. Flattery was not going to work for him today. He had a plan and he needed to stick to it. So instead, Michael slipped on a pair of sparring mitts and called to Fiona as she crossed the loft, "Do you mind holding the bag for me?"

She stepped up to the bag and bumped him with her hip playfully to move him out-of-the-way.

"Oh, did you want to go first? No problem." He feigned surprise and flashed a charming smile.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this," as she began to put on the bright pink gloves.

"I hope so." He watched her cautiously as he tightened the wrists straps on her mitts.

Fiona looked Michael up and down. He was shirtless and wore a snug fitting pair of gray sweat pants. She had a pretty good idea of where he was leading them but was not sure if she was ready to step through the door he had just thrown wide open. She smiled as she recalled other times they had worked out together. It never took long for them to build up a sweat. As their bodies began to heat up they would have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. Michael had told her long ago, that violence was foreplay for her but not for him. But she knew very well that was a lie. He liked it too. Some of their most passionate encounters were kicked off with a playful tumble around the loft.

"Maybe I'll just beat the crap out of him for a while," she thought to herself. "I might feel better."

"Here, let's give these a try, I'll test the bag later." He slipped on a pair of flat mitts and then held his hands out to offer the wide flat surfaces for her to strike. "We can start as soon as you're ready."

He held the gloves up to her eye level and steadied his feet for the first strike. She began with a light stream of punches into the gloves. He attentively watched the placid expression on her face but remained silent. He wanted to let her warm up a bit before picking up the pace. As her shoulders relaxed and she began a series of cross punches, he encouraged her. "There you go, open up your stance a bit."

She glared up at him, irritated by his unsolicited commentary, and threw a few punches quick punches to his abdomen. "Can you be quiet!" she scolded. "I'm trying to concentrate."

He managed to block the strikes with the mitts but was forced to take a step backwards to keep his balance. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Fiona hopped lightly on her toes until she found her rhythm and she began again with another series of cross punches into the flat mitts.

"So, is there anything on your mind that you want to talk about Fi?" he asked. He was well aware of the annoyance his question would provoke. He could see the anger rise in her face as she continued with the cross she landed unexpected blow but this time to the right side of his jaw. He was still for a moment as he shook off the punch.

"No. Not really." She smiled sweetly as she fell back into a steady rhythm of jabs into the mitts.

"Cuz, if you had something to tell me." He blocked another jab to the gut. "I'm all ears."

Fiona unloaded a furious stream into the mitts. She was short of breath and her face was damp with sweat. "What do you want me to say Michael?"

He dropped his arms momentarily and took a step back to pause the drill. "I don't know, you haven't been very talkative lately."

"Yeah, well I don't have much to talk about. Do I?" She leaned forward to continue the stream of punches to the gloves which he held steady in front of his abdomen. "I just got out of prison."

Her glare warned him that he was not welcomed in the territory that he had wandering into.

"You can tell me anything, Fi." His eyes pleaded with her to understand what he needed from her. "Just tell me something."

"Then where would you like me to start?" as she made a blow to the head that Michael dodged. "Before or after you handcuffed me to that wall?" She surprised him with a hit square to his chin and head snapped back from the impact.

When his vision came back into focus, he could see the swirl of rage in her eyes. He was unsure if the anger was direct at him, the residual impact of the humiliation during her time in prison or both. "Fi, I'm sor.." He held up his hands as a gesture of a truce but Fiona took it as an invitation to continue the fight.

"Don't Michael!" She fell back into a steady rhythm of punches into the flat mitts.

"'I need to understand…"

"Why won't you leave this alone?" She emphasized her frustration with a side kick that connected to Michael's upper right leg.

Michael was forced backwards three steps to absorb the blow and nearly lost his balance. He was reminded of the delicacy required to handle highly volatile explosives. He slowly moved back towards her. "Because I can't," he said trying to mask his growing frustration.

"You don't want to know!" She pulled off her gloves that landed on the floor with a thud that echoed through the loft.

"Fi." He reached for her arm.

She pulled away and turned her back to him.

"Fiona."

After a moment of stillness, she spun on her toes to face him. "What do you want to know, Michael?" as she planted her feet firmly and crossed her arms, "that I was terrified?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you?" He took a small step closer to her.

"That I was humiliated when they searched me? Should I tell you about when they shackled me and put me in a cage? What kind of sadistic bastard are you?" She turned her back to him again.

Michael stomach clenched as if he had been struck another blow. Did she really think so little of him? He inched slowly towards her. "Fiona," he reached out again.

"Because I'd really rather NOT talk about it." She spun on her toes and landed a knee blow to his leg that knocked him flat on his back.

Michael knew it was always a risk to open up Pandora's Box that was Fiona's rage, particularly now. But he had not prepared himself for this. He sprung back up on his feet and wrapped his arms around Fiona as he pinned her arms to her sides.

She struggled against the restraint yelling, "Don't you dare touch me!" She elbowed him in the ribs and stepped quickly to the other side of the loft. She leaned into the doorway to the balcony and rested her head against the frame.

From across the room, Michael could not tell if she was out of breath or crying. He was overwhelmed with regret as he realized the extent of his misjudgment. In his effort to reach out to her, he had only succeeded in pushing her farther away.

"Please." He held out his hand to her. "You're angry with me…for what happened."

"What do you want me to say Michael?" Her eyes were filled with pain. "I had to end the madness before anyone else was hurt."

"I never wanted any of it for you. I could have found another way…"

"There was never going to be an out. You refused to see that," she continued. "So I made my choice."

"But he's gone Fi. We destroyed him."

"I know that. We have our freedom now but we both paid a high price."

"Why can't we just … move on?"

"I can Michael but not here."

Her gaze floated around the loft space that had been there home for over a year but then stopped on the metal staircase. A chill rain down her spine as her mind returned to that fateful day. She glared at metal grate that where Michael had locked her just a few hours she turned herself in to the FBI. "I don't know what moving on with our lives will look like but I am certain it can't happen for me here." She moved across the loft and began to fill a small duffel bag with cloths.

"Fi," he called to her his voice raspy. He could only manage to stand next her in silence as she continued to fill her bag. His mind returned to warning he received from his mother a few weeks before.

"Don't try to move too quickly from where you are now to where you want to be."

Michael was snapped back to the present by another harsh scolding, "What, what is it Michael?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. He needed to let her leave before he inadvertently made things worse.

"Fine, I'm going to stay at the hotel for a few days."

Michael remembered their friend's Elsa's offer of use of a suite anytime they wished. He had never planned that it would be used for Fiona to stay alone. But at the moment it seemed like a reasonable and safe option. He silently hoped would not become a long-term arrangement.

"Fi," he reached gently for her arm as she headed towards the threshold.

"What Michael?" she said unable to hide the irritation in her voice.

"Can I drive you over there?" he asked mustering a conciliatory gesture.

"No, I'll drive myself." She grabbed her keys from the drawer and walked out the door.

As he heard the door slam and he watched her drive off he returned to a memory of the night before her release from prison. That night, Michael went to visit his mother. She fed him a loving yet overcooked meatloaf dinner in hope to calm his jagged nerves. Over the meal, she warned her son.

"Michael, I am so happy that this will be over soon and you two can finally move on with your lives."

"Yeah," he said as a smile peaked through his serious expression.

"But you might want to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"There are things that you might want to do right away. There are things that you have been waiting to show her and others that you've waited…probably too long...to do. But you should wait for a little while.

"Mom, I don't understand. I thought you would be …"

"Just don't rush her too much. She has been through a trauma and she is going to need some time to adjust."

"I'm taking her away to someplace beautiful. It will be just us".

"It sounds nice."

"It should be. But that's all I have planned…" as he nodded an acknowledgement to Maddie, "…so far."

"All I'm trying to say Michael is don't move too quickly from where you are now to where you want to be. She'll tell you and show you when she is ready."

A buzzing from his phone pulled him back from thoughts. "Sam, hey, I'm glad you called. I need your help. Fi's on her way to the hotel."

"What's the matter? She didn't have fun at the range?" Sam asked.

"I think I might have made things worse. I have to move fast to fix it. Will you call me back when she gets there?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks," as he hung up the phone and headed out of the loft.