Cut to the safe house, where Fi and Sean are sitting around in black clothes, ready for whatever errand Michael's about to pick them up for. They have a completely unlikely and irrelevant conversation about Fi's feelings about Michael, until we're all rescued by Michael himself walking in. Fi heads out to the car, but Sean hangs back so Michael can explain to Sean that he needs O'Neill to deliver something. "A little gift with a big prison sentence attached to it." Sean says he can't lose another sister, and puts a hand on Michael's shoulder to thank him for protecting Fiona. "You're an honest man. And I'm honored to be fightin' beside ya." Sean heads on out to the car, leaving Michael contemplating the weight of guilt in his belly that's almost like an anvil.
It's full nighttime when Michael, back in his Paul Smith suit, meets O'Neill and four of his guys at the marina. Michael explains the deal: he gives O'Neill Fiona, O'Neill delivers a shipment of assault rifles for Michael. "I got a better idea," O'Neill says, and draws a gun while two of his men grab Michael. "I'm gonna shoot little bits off you until you tell me where she is." Michael is extravagantly unintimidated. "Put the gun down, or I'll have you put down," he says calmly. "I'm not sure you're taking stock of the situation," O'Neill boasts, unaware of the three red laser dots that have just appeared on his chest until Michael looks down at them. And now we see that Sam, Fi, and Sean are all in position nearby, equipped with sniper rifles with laser scopes. "Well, there you go, eh?" O'Neill says, pretty good-naturedly given the circumstances. Michael gets him to call off his goons and lower his gun, and when O'Neill does, Michael has one more instruction for him: "Tell me we have a deal." "If you stop lighting me up like a little Christmas tree, maybe we will have a deal, yes," O'Neill says, amusing me by rocking from side to side and watching the little laser points slide across his chest. Michael gives a signal, and Sam and Fi shut off their laser scopes. Sean, however, doesn't, because he has again overestimated his own awesomeness. "I can take them all out," he whispers to Sam and Fi. O'Neill isn't happy to still have a red dot on his chest. "Simple miscommunication," Michael grins, and repeats the signal. "Sean, they're gonna kill McBride," Sam tells him. Sean still keeps aiming. O'Neill and his men all draw on Michael, who gives the signal one more time, this time with quite a bit more force. Sam and Fi don't make any move to physically intervene with Sean, but he finally turns his scope off anyway. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" O'Neill smiles. Well, it was a little difficult. Or, I should say, Sean was difficult. Good move, bringing a literal loose cannon along. "We'll talk soon," Michael says agreeably. And the meeting ends without anybody getting shot, like most of the meetings I go to at work.
At the loft the next day, Michael brings in a duffel bag full of supplies while Fi tapes up a diagram of O'Neil's signature bomb. "He's trotted that thing out twelve times and never been caught," she says, hoping for better luck with number 13. Never mind the fact that they'll be the ones trotting it out on O'Neill's behalf this time. Sean comes in off the balcony, having just got off the phone with some guy back home. Apparently he's heard that O'Neill's plans for Fiona aren't to kill her himself, but to take her home and put her up for sale to her enemies. "That could be a lot of people," Fi says quietly. What's O'Neill going to use, eBay? Or its Irish equivalent, o'Bay (come on, now, you have to give me credit for only making one joke like that in this whole recap)? Sean says O'Neill's trying to make himself a star, and regrets not shooting him when they had the chance. That triggers another argument between him and Michael, until Fi Irishes at them to "shoot oop!" In her "normal" voice, she adds, "We have work to do."
Over the strains of some poor man's Dropkick Murphys music on the soundtrack, they start making a bomb. Sean mixes the explosive material, some kind of blue stuff that will soon get poured into a mold to shape the charge and fit just right into the small wooden crate that'll be used as the case. "Bomb makers, like master chefs," Michael VOs, "tend to have a signature dish. If you can duplicate it, you can leave their fingerprints wherever you want." The delivery system seems to involve glass Mason jars and very large ball bearings. Nasty. "Some bombs are designed to remove an obstacle. Some bombs are designed to be loud and scary. While other bombs are just designed to kill and maim." With everything arranged into the crate, Michael and Fi put the finishing touch on the bomb, which is a hefty dose of rat poison into each of the six mason jars containing the ball bearings. "It contains an anticoagulant," Fi explains. "He likes his victims to hemorrhage and bleed out. He wants them to suffer." Wouldn't this be an awesome time for Detective Paxson to wander in? Instead of that happening, Michael gets a cell phone call from his mom, and Fi tells him to head on over there instead of answering. "Pick up some screws while you're there." Michael takes off, after exchanging snarky Irish-accented remarks with Sean. One of them is going to take a shillelagh to the other soon.
Madeline catches Michael in her garage, stealing a couple of boxes of screws. He pretends he's there to see if she needs anything, but as she puts down a big box of old crap, she isn't any more fooled by this master spy than she ever is: "Sure you did. That's why you're stealing all my screws. It's all right, I don't need to know. Let's just pretend that you're helping me clean my garage for my open house." Michael agrees, but not enough to actually start doing that. "Any other big life changes you want to tell your son about?" he snots instead. They have kind of a low-grade argument about her moving, but then she says she didn't want to throw out a box of Michael's old stuff without his getting a chance to go through it first. "My model airplanes," Michael says softly, and seems surprised she doesn't want them any more. "I was hoping that you would, Michael," she duhs. Michael makes a whatever face, so Madeline explains: "This isn't going to make any sense to you, but most people -- normal people -- go through their life collecting boxes like this." She's right: he doesn't understand. He just makes this face like, What the fuck is wrong with normal people? She offers to throw it away for him right now, and he stops her by quickly agreeing to take a look. She, in turn, agrees to go get the other box just like this one. Michael pulls out a toy pistol and smiles at it. Maybe he should try giving that one back to Fi and keeping her real one. This one is more her size anyway.
Michael pulls up at a park in a white van, where Sam meets him, getting out of the Charger with a rolled-up document that he says is a diagram of the basement at the State Department. Which Sam just had lying around, naturally. He sticks it in the back of the van with the giant crate-bomb already there. Michael sums up their next move against O'Neill: "If we want to get him busted, we need to put him behind the wheel of this van. If he won't do it on his own, we'll have to just gently encourage him." Not to spoil anything, but gentle encouragement is going to be more like a sniper rifle than money-saving coupons.
Back at the safe house, Michael sets down Fi's last packed box from her place, talking in his Irish accent because Sean's lurking around somewhere. They talk a bit about the difficulty of leaving stuff behind, and Fi's impending return home. "I wonder what it'll be loike," she Irishes, looking out the window. Michael Irishes right back that she'll have her friends and family, but she says they don't know her any more. Lucky bastards. She says a lot of who she is is what she's done there in Miami with Michael. He lowers his voice to a whisper so he can drop the accent to show how very sincere he is about all this, but all he gets out is, "Fi, I--" before she stops him. "