Ana leans back on the couch as Michael looks at the door. And then he looks at the gun, looking like he too is having a hard time actually going through with it. Which he is, but not with killing Henry. "I'm sorry," he tells the gun. "For what?" asks a barely interested Ana. Michael looks at her, raises the gun, and fires, apparently getting her in the stomach. Ana's too shocked to even cry out, and gasps for a moment before sagging back on the couch. Michael looks anguished. Not brainwashed, certainly. Ana's not moving, and Michael's still standing there, pointing the gun, quivering.
And now here's Libby coming in. "Michael?" she says, surprised. Not as surprised as Michael, who wheels around and fires two shots, both of which hit her, although she's awkwardly holding the picnic blanket in front of her. And Michael looks even more distraught when she collapses to the ground, but I'll guarantee she ain't dead yet. That blanket's not there for nothing. Speaking of which, I think we all know whose fault this is, Hurley. Maybe next time you plan a picnic, you'll BRING A DAMN BLANKET.
Michael finally calms down enough to walk over to the armoury door, which he opens. He steps inside, and Henry slowly stands up, watching him. They don't say anything. Michael raises his arm, points the gun in the general vicinity of his left shoulder/arm, and the gunshot takes us to black.