A/N- This is a kinda dark piece. I hope you like it. Let me know.

Fiona stood up. It had been exactly forty-eight hours since I left. Two days on the minute. Not that she was counting, not that I was counting. It's time to get this party started. Fiona thought grimly to herself, pulling out a shiney blade. She took one last look around the room. A last look at her dilberate set up. She had done it that way on porpuse. The crisp white sheets. Her thin, white night gown, with the thin straps. It was all for me, and the thing was, I deserved it.

It was forty-eight seconds later when Fi made the first cut on her leg. The blood stained her sheets. The blood stained her gown. Just the way she planned it. Another forty-eight seconds went by before Fiona made a second insion, above the first one, on her left leg. With forty-eight seconds between each swipe of the blade, Fi ended with twelve slashes on her left leg.

Another forty-eight went by and Fi started on her other leg. Twelve cuts later, and Fiona's sheets were stained red through. Her gown was ruined. In the time between the cuts, she thought about me. We had been together for forty-eight days. It had been forty-eight hours since I left.

Fi made the first cut on her left arm.

Fi made the last cut on her left arm.

Fiona made the first cut on her right arm.

Only eleven left.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And then she was done. Blood was everywhere. It was all my fault. Fiona passed out.

It was, ironically, forty-eight minutes later when Sean found her, blood pooling and drying on the bed.

He called me, as if somehow I could come back and make everything better. I, of course, ignored the call.

But when I did listen to my messages, I had tears running down my face.

Fiona had hurt herself because I left her. There was nothing I wanted more, just then, to rush back to her. To take her and hold her in my arms and to never let go. But that wasn't an option right now. I left her behind. I left the job behind. It was done. I was done. I took my phone and threw it into the ocean in front of me.

Then I walked away.

I walked away and left Fiona behind.

My name is Michael Westen and that was the worst mistake of my life.

But you probably already know this, I know that I do.