Michael sank to his knees, beginning to feel lightheaded from the blood loss. He looked up and saw James towering over him, a cruel sneer on his face. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw something that truly terrified him. Fiona was climbing out of the trunk of the Charger, where she had apparently been hiding, armed with nothing but a single gun.

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Michael willed himself to move, causing James to kick him but also miss the fact that Fiona was creeping around the Charger towards the other side of James's SUV, weapon drawn. Words couldn't describe the emotions that Michael felt at seeing Fiona in that moment. The most manageable emotion seemed to be anger. Anger at James for threatening their lives, anger at Fiona for going against his plan, and anger at himself for not killing James one of the many times he had the chance.

Michael watched from his spot on the ground, unable to do more than try to crawl into a sitting position and watch in horror as Fiona shot through the open window of the SUV, killing the man who had shot Michael, and drawing James's attention to her at the same time.

Even injured and nervous, Michael refused to sit by and watch Fiona in danger. Taking advantage of James's surprise, Michael tried to maneuver himself so that he could access his own gun, but was frustrated to find that his body simply would not cooperate.

Upon seeing who had come to provide backup for Michael, James smiled proudly. "I assumed you wouldn't be far away," he said to Fiona, motioning with his gun. "Come on over here, we should all talk."

"Leave her out of this!" Michael protested, trying to catch his breath. "Please, you already have me, just let her go."

To his utter surprise, James looked at Michael thoughtfully then nodded. "Alright, Michael," he granted. Michael was relieved for less than a second, before he remembered with whom he was dealing. James clearly had some ulterior motive. He would never show mercy unless it benefitted him in some way. Michael observed James carefully from the now bloody ground, wondering what James really had planned for Fiona.

James turned back towards the auburn-haired woman, who was walking out from behind the SUV, gun pointed steadily at him, and said, "You're free to go, Ms. Glenanne. I'm sure Michael won't mind if you take his car...he won't be needing it anymore."

Fiona gave James a look of total disgust. It was nearly identical to the one she used to aim at Larry whenever their paths crossed. "I'm not going anywhere, you evil bastard. I leave with Michael or not at all." She inched closer to where her boyfriend lay, blood still flowing from his side.

Michael began to yell at her to go, but was interrupted by his own coughing. He imagined that his lungs were filling with blood and began to worry that he wouldn't be able to get himself, or worse, Fiona, out of their deadly predicament.

James ignored Michael's suffering, focusing on Fiona instead. "I thought you might feel that way," he drawled. "Unfortunately, one and only one of you will be alive at the end of our conversation."

Fiona looked at him with eyes full of confusion and more than a little hatred. "Do you actually expect me to believe that you're going to let one of us go?"

"Of course I do, it only makes sense. If I kill you both, neither of you will suffer the way you deserve."

Fiona shook her head, taking a few more small steps in Michael's direction. It was obvious she was itching to run to his side. "Why haven't you shot me already then? What are you waiting for?"

"Who said I was going to kill you? I admit, that was my original plan, but Michael here is halfway dead anyway. And it would be such sweet revenge to torture and kill the man who destroyed my empire.

"You won't be killing him." Fiona stated. "I'm the one who dies." To James's surprise and Michael's horror, Fiona lifted her gun to her own temple, stepping sideways until she was only a few feet from Michael.

James chuckled, twistedly amused. "Now, that won't be necessary, Ms. Glenanne. I'll be more than happy to take care of that for you."

Michael struggled to his hands and knees, determined to protect Fiona in any way he could, if only he could get one more burst of strength.

Fiona nodded brusquely. "Okay. But first, could I say goodbye to Michael? I'll give you my gun as a token of good faith." Michael let out a groan of frustration. How could this be happening? And why couldn't he stand? Fiona needed him!

James shook his head in obviously fake pity and motioned for Fiona to slide her gun to him. She did so and James said, "You have one minute, make it count."

Fiona closed the distance between herself and Michael. The former spy immediately began begging her not to give herself up, ordering her to let him die instead. His words were not entirely clear as a result of blood loss and agitation, and Fiona refused to listen. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at James, checking to be sure he was still standing by the SUV. The Irishwoman turned back to her boyfriend, her love, and wrapped his bruised and bloody body in her own. Putting her mouth close to his ear, she whispered a single, simple sentence that said everything. "Time to be brave, my angel."

Upon hearing those familiar words, Michael stopped struggling to rise and instead let his muscles relax. At the same time, Fiona removed a detonator from a pocket in her cargo pants and pushed the red button. As soon as she had done this, she flung her body over Michael's, willing herself to lie still, covering him, even as the heat and pressure from the explosion encompassed her.

The expertly-made bomb killed James instantly, but Fiona was unable to admire her handiwork, as she was lying unconscious on top of Michael. The former spy managed to stay awake, having been shielded from the worst of the explosion by Fiona. He tried to get out from under her, but his body still refused to respond.

Michael's mind too was uncooperative, running rampant with memories and regrets that he had always hoped to avoid. He had made many mistakes over the years, and although he had done good things, he had done some terrible things too. Not the least of which included turning his back on the few people who truly cared about him...loved him. Perhaps, his panic-addled mind considered, it's time to stop worrying about the greater good and simply do good. He nearly chuckled when he realized that was what Fiona had been trying to tell him all along. And as he lay there, listening to the sirens come closer and closer, his only bit of solace was the fact that he could feel her heart beating beside him and her faint breath against his cheek.

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Against Michael's will, he and Fiona were loaded into separate ambulances. He didn't see her when he arrived at the hospital either, since he was whisked immediately into surgery. When he finally awoke from the anesthesia, Michael had no idea how long he had been out, but he could tell that Fiona was still absent. He could remember the heat that had come from the explosion, and feared Fiona had borne the brunt of it. As he shifted painfully in bed, he noticed there was a woman sitting by his bedside, but her hair was short and blonde, and she gave off a slight aroma of tobacco.

"Ma," Michael managed to croak out.

"Michael," she gasped, moving to his side, "I'm so happy you're awake!"

Michael gave her a brief smile in acknowledgement, then asked, "Where's Fi?"

To his enormous relief, his mother smiled. "She's in a room down the hall. She's recovering from some burns, but the doctor says she'll be fine. Jesse's with her now."

Michael nodded, adjusting himself so that his bandaged side was in a more comfortable position. His mother put a cup of water up to his lips and he sipped it, the coolness of it soothing his parched throat. Once he had drunk most of it, he lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Madeline patted his head lovingly and assured him that it would be good for him to rest. Michael was able to drift off to sleep once again, content in the knowledge that Fiona was safe and the rest of his family was nearby.

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The next time Michael opened his eyes, it was dark in his room, leading him to believe that he had been asleep for at least half the day. Since he was feeling better, he thought he'd try to find Fiona's room, to see for himself how she was doing. The injured man was saved from having to make the effort though, because the woman in question was already seated beside him, looking drowsy.

"Fi?"

"Michael," she said, immediately alert. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah Fi. How about you?"

"I have some burns on my back," she admitted, "and I'm going to have to get a hair cut" -she glanced down at her singed ends- "but I'll be okay." Michael nodded and tried to sit up, but was unable to do so until Fiona stuffed some pillows behind his back.

"Are you supposed to be out of bed?" Michael asked suspiciously. He was glad to have Fiona beside him but he wanted her to heal quickly.

"It's fine as long as my doctor doesn't come in. Or Madeline. Or Sam. But they're having dinner in the cafeteria so we should be good for now." Michael shook his head but couldn't help but grin at Fiona's flippancy.

"I really wish you hadn't put yourself in danger like that," the spy admitted, his face darkening. "James was my problem to deal with. I didn't mean for you to get caught up in all that."

Fiona kept her eyes locked on Michael's as she replied, "Your problems are my problems, too. You help me with my thing and I help you with yours, remember?" Michael wasn't sure whether to be happy or discouraged at her explanation.

"Is that why you took care of my family this year? Mom said you made her life so much easier."

"I took care of them because they're my family too," Fiona replied stiffly, as if daring Michael to protest. He didn't, and her body language softened.

"Charlie will be so glad you're awake," Fiona informed him. "He's with Jesse tonight but I'm sure he'll visit tomorrow." Michael glanced down nervously at the mention of his nephew. He hadn't spent much time with his brother's son over the past year.

"i haven't been a very good uncle, have I?" Michael asked guiltily. "I'm surprised he knows who I am."

"Children are very forgiving, Michael," Fiona assured him. "They love the people who love them...even if they're not around a lot." Fiona's voice got quiet, and for a moment the only sounds in the room were her and Michael's quiet breaths.

"Strong came to see you a couple hours ago," she mentioned suddenly. "He wanted to ask you to officially rejoin the CIA." Fiona said this as if she were swallowing a large, bitter pill.

"Did you shoot him?" Michael asked, only half-jokingly.

"No," Fiona replied, unamused.

"Hope he wasn't too heartbroken when he found out I'm not going back." Michael said this casually, but from Fiona's reaction one would have thought he'd announced he was running for president.

"What are you taking about?"

"I told you before that I wanted out. I still want that Fi, and I want you, too."

"Even now?" Fiona asked hesitantly. "Are you sure? I can't lose you again. I have to know this is it." Even as Fiona said the sentence she knew deep down that it was a lie. She'd proven time and time again that, against her better judgement, she would be there for Michael, whenever, wherever. Michael pretended he didn't know that, not wanting to take advantage of her unwavering loyalty.

"Yes, Fi," he answered with complete conviction, "I'm sure. I've waited a long time for this. I'm done. I'm all yours...if you'll have me."

Fiona didn't even pretend to think about his offer. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, ignoring his groans of pain, and let the tears that she had been holding in for nearly a year cascade down her cheeks. When she was done squishing her injured boyfriend, Fiona sat back and smiled.

"Do you mind handing me the phone?" asked Michael. "I want to call Strong." Fiona happily complied, barely able to believe what was about to happen. Michael Westen was going to say no to the CIA...for her.

The call didn't last long. From the one side of the conversation Fiona was privy to, it sounded like Michael's handler was doing his best to convince his employee to stay. She assumed that Michael was being offered all of his hopes and dreams on a silver platter, but Fiona had to give him credit; he was true to his word.

When the now officially former spy hung up the phone, Fiona planted a kiss on his forehead and whispered, "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure Fi. I've been with the CIA for so long, but after all that's happened, it's a relief to be done. Although, I will need to find another source of income if I'm going to keep up with your spending habits," he teased her lightly.

"Well," Fiona pondered, "Sam did mention that Elsa has a friend who could use some help with a nasty ex. Should I tell him we're in...as soon as these burns heal?"

Michael contemplated her offer. "I think that's a great idea. Maybe we can save up to buy a house..." Fiona nodded enthusiastically as Michael continued, "...a car...a picket fence...a dog."

Fiona giggled. "One step at a time, Michael. One step at a time."

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Well there you go. I hope you enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you thought. It means so much to me that there were such great responses to this story. I have plenty of new fics coming very soon!

And even if someone years from now is reading this, let me know. A review is NEVER too late!