Still not mine. Oh well. This one's sad - you've been warned. I got the idea from a House episode, just changed it around a little.

Carry Me With You

Michael stared at the doctor in disbelief. "There's nothing you can do?" he questioned.

The doctor shook his head sadly. "There's always the donor list," he started, "but I'm not going to lie to you, the odds aren't good. It's a long shot. Hearts are hard to come by." He shot Michael a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," he said and then left Michael standing outside the hospital room, unsure of what to do.

He looked through the window, trying and failing to imagine his life without Fiona in it. She had become such an integral part of his life, of him. Without her, he wasn't sure how he was going to survive. He stood for a few more minutes before he finally entered the room and forced a smile.

"Hey, Fi," he said quietly.

"Hi," she said from the hospital bed she had been occupying for the past few weeks. What had started as a precautionary doctor's visit had ended with the news that she was going to die if she didn't receive a new heart. She was surrounded by machines and wires, and Michael couldn't help but think that she looked so fragile. It wasn't a word he would usually apply to Fiona, but right now it fit. He bit back tears.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

She shrugged. "I guess so. Are you?"

He swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said finally, not convincing either one of them. Silence fell, neither one of them knowing what to say.

"I'm going to figure something out," Michael finally spoke.

Fiona's eyes flashed. "This isn't one of your jobs, Michael. I'm not a client whose problem you can fix with your super spy skills and a few blocks of C4," she snapped.

"You think I don't know that?" he said loudly, and she flinched slightly. He sighed. "I can't just sit here," he started, his voice returning to a normal level. "I don't know what to do," he finished quietly.

"There's nothing you can do," she answered. "You can't fix this."

He sighed in defeat and crumpled into the chair next to her bed, burying his face in his hands. Fiona reached over and took on of his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers. "It's not your fault," she whispered.

He knew that was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn't work. Instead, it made him feel even worse. He had done everything he could have, protected her every way he knew how to. It hadn't made a difference. She was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it, no one he could threaten, nowhere he could go for help. He couldn't swoop in and save the day. He couldn't even trade his own life for hers…unless…

His head shot up and he looked at Fiona intently. "Fi," he whispered. She met his gaze. "I want you to take my heart."

"No," she said instantly. "No way."

"Don't," he said. "This is your life we're talking about. You'll die."

"And you think you'll be able to survive without a heart?" she hissed.

He shot her a look. "No," he said. When she didn't say anything he spoke again. "I love you," he started. "And I can't let you die knowing that I didn't do everything in my power to keep you alive. Even if that means giving up my own life."

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "I won't give consent. I don't want it."

"Fi, be reasonable," Michael argued.

"Reasonable?" she repeated. "Reasonable? You're the one who isn't being reasonable, Michael."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable," he argued.

"You. Are. Talking. About. Killing. Yourself," she said slowly, enunciating each word.

"So what?" he replied.

"So what?" she spluttered. "So what? I'll tell you so what. I'm. Not. Doing. It."

He threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. I've got to go."

She looked at him, surprised. "Where?"

"I have a meeting with Sam," he explained.

"I'll see you later?" she questioned.

He didn't answer, just leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I love you," he whispered. "Always." He headed towards the door, and turned back one last time before he left. "Goodbye," he whispered, and then he was gone.

He dialed Sam's number as he was leaving.

"Mike?" Sam questioned, skipping the hello.

"I need your help with something, Sam," he explained.

"Sure, Mikey. What do you need?" Sam questioned.

Michael explained his plan to Sam, and after many arguments and lots of persuasion on Michael's part, he had him convinced.

"You've been a great friend, Sam," Michael said after he had agreed. "Thanks for everything."

"Male, single gunshot wound to the right temple," the paramedic said quickly, running alongside the gurney traveling down through the hospital.

"Unbelievable," the doctor said, shaking his head. "I just saw him this morning," he finished sadly.

"Wait. You know this guy?" the paramedic asked sharply.

"Yeah, he knows one of my patients." the doctor answered. "Why?"

"Right before he shot himself, he said something about a heart. I don't know, but he said you'd understand."

A look of dawning crossed the doctor's face. "Prep him for surgery," he ordered. "And someone find Fiona Glenanne and prep her, too. Tell her we found her a heart."

Sam watched as Fiona's eyelids fluttered. A few moments later they opened, searching the room until they fell on him.

"Sam?" she questioned hoarsely.

"Hey, Fi," he said in a shaky voice, tears in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Where's Michael?" she asked. Sam's face changed at the mention of his name and she looked at him, confused. "What?"

He looked at her sadly. "It wasn't coincidence that they found you that heart, Fi," he explained.

A look of understanding passed her face. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no…" she trailed off, her tears making her unable to speak. Sam felt tears gathering in his own eyes, and he reached over to take her hand. She grasped onto it tightly, tears streaming down her face.

When she calmed down about fifteen minutes later, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope with her name scrawled across the front. She recognized the handwriting, and knew it was from Michael.

"They found this with…him," Sam explained handing it to her. "It's addressed to you. I'll, uh, let you read it alone," he finished, leaving her alone with the letter.

She clutched the letter in one hand, tracing her name with the other, thinking about how this was probably the last thing he had ever written. A few tears dropped onto the envelope as she tore it open and started to read.

Fi,

I'm sorry. I know that's probably not good enough, but I am. I know that you disagreed with me about this, but it was something I had to do. It's not something I can make you understand, or even try to explain to you or anyone else. It's one of those stupid things people do for love.

I do love you. I know that I don't tell you that very often, if it all, but it's true. You're the most important person in my life. And I couldn't just stand on the sidelines and watch you die. A life without you in it wasn't one worth living. I did what I had to to make sure that didn't happen.

I gave you my heart. Take it. Carry it with you. And know that every time it beats, I'll be thinking of you wherever I am.

Keep it safe for me. It's always been yours.

Michael

She finished the letter and folded it back up before returning it to the envelope. Then, she let herself cry. Sobs filled the silent room and tears spattered onto the hospital sheets. She cried until she had exhausted herself, unable to even keep her eyes open.

And then she fell asleep, lulled by the beating of a heart that wasn't hers.