I believe…that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

Warzone didn't even begin to describe the situation they were in. They had been living in Belfast at the time, but they were by no means close to home. The fight had extended far beyond their hotel room where it had begun. "I don't give a fuck what you think, Michael! I am doing this deal whether you like it or not!" she shouted at him once they were inside the warehouse where the aforementioned deal was to take place. "If you don't like it, you can wait outside."

"Maybe I will!" he replied harshly. Fighting was nothing new for them, but what happened next was not standard procedure. He really did walk out, just as the sellers arrived. He could tell they were meaner and more violent than the guys Fiona had described. Or perhaps she didn't know. He decided to show them in and test the waters. From her expression, she hadn't known. For that reason only, he stayed.

During much of the negotiations, she treated him a bit like a butler. Whether this was to satisfy an existing cover or to spite him, he couldn't tell, but the latter was being accomplished very well. That is, until the sellers cleared out of the deal and left a case sitting on the floor. Both of them knew what it meant and, considering how long it had taken them to notice, there wasn't much time.

Without a word, they both cleared out, but Michael went back. He was so sure he could disarm it, but that left Fiona turning from side to side in the street looking for him in a panic. Inside the warehouse, Michael realized there was no way he could defuse the bomb quickly enough.

Boom! The unmistakable sound of a bomb blowing up a warehouse. Fiona hit the deck and watched the smoke curl from the building. There was no Michael rushing to her to, annoyingly, but endearingly, check her for injuries. Not even after waiting until most of the people nearby had fled. And the last words she had really said to him were in anger.

At last, she pulled herself to a sitting position on the curb and waited. She didn't know what she was waiting for, but she was waiting anyway. "You alright, Fi?" a familiar voice asked form behind her. When she turned she saw Michael standing there, covered in dust and smoke and with a few scrapes on his face and arms.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said as she buried herself in his chest. It was so unlike her, but he knew why. It was the same reason people said to never go to bed angry.

It was the same reason that, from that day on, she said 'be careful' or something to that effect before he left on a job. She didn't want anger to be the last thing he ever heard from her.