Season finale. Let's go!

As Michael strolls through a Miami shopping district, he VOs about how the most dangerous time in any operation is when it's all coming together. "You never know whether you're about to get a pat on the back or a bullet to the back of the head." As though they're mutually exclusive. He reaches an appointed street corner and checks his watch, just before a stretch limo pulls up. As he climbs in, he VOs, "Of course, there's not much you can do but act like everything's fine." In the back of the limo is a hump in a suit and sunglasses, and also Carla, offering him chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds and some tea. As the limo gets moving, she pours him a cup and says this is to serve as a reminder of his old life, "when Michael Westen was just a carefree spy in the deserts of Afghanistan." Carla claims that she used to be like Michael. "Lived for the job. Then I discovered the job doesn't love you back." He realizes she's telling him she was burned too, back in the day. She says she was angry about it at first, but then realized she didn't miss the old gig, and that Michael might yet come to the same conclusion. But she's still pretending to be open to cutting him loose. "Anything's possible if you do your job," she says as he lets her pop a seed into his mouth. With the carrot thus administered, it's now time for the stick. She gets serious as she warns him that "management's not happy," and they're coming to town. "Remember, there are worse things than being blacklisted," she says darkly. "Oh, I know," Michael snarks. "I could be this guy." As the limo stops and "this guy" fails to display any reaction whatsoever, Michael hops out, a few minutes older and a few blocks further west.

Later, Michael takes a much longer drive, out into the country at the wheel of his Charger. Soon he's back at the same abandoned concrete factory they used earlier in the season. He drives right in, and Sam greets him with a beer in one hand and his gun in the other (always a winning combo), wanting to be sure Michael wasn't followed. "Unless she's got an invisible helicopter, I think we're fine," Michael says. As Michael hands his own weapon to Sam, presumably so Victor won't be able to take it from him, he asks about their guest. Stationed outside a locked holding-tank door with a shotgun, Fi tells Michael that Victor's asleep. "Kinda tough to sleep when you're cable-tied to a chair," Michael says. Can't be worse than sleeping on an airplane. "How long's he been in there alone?" Fi tells him a few hours, as per Michael's instructions not to open the door. She adds that her shotgun is loaded with a beanbag round. "At this range it'll break a few ribs," she boasts, and gives it a one-handed pump for dramatic effect. Better not brace the stock against your ribs, then, Fi. Oh, wait, that's not what she meant.