A small, slender hand pierced through the tiny gab of the closing elevator doors and forced them open again. Donna sighed, watching her bubble burst to get those last two minutes of silence. She put a sort of friendly smile on her face and glanced at the intruder – then smiling in sincere joy. "A very beautiful good morning. Isn't this day just wonderful, Mike", she said, grinning when he moaned and leaned the back of his head against the cool elevator wall.
"Not funny", he grumbled, his eyes closed.
"Looks like someone has really slept well." Donna sighted his pale face with those dark under-eye circles and her maternal instinct dawned. She sighed again and nudged Mike's shoulder. "Don't tell Harvey that I gave you his dearly-beloved coffee. But you're really desperate for some caffeine."
"Donna, you angel of mercy, Lady Bonitful, gracious and wise woman – I owe my life to you", Mike answered and accepted gratefully the gift. He sniffed and sighed with relief, holding the hot paper cup cautiously in his hands, and stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened.
"Just don't spill it", Donna gave him a smiled warning and walked away.
When Mike arrived at his cubical, he was even more grateful for the coffee in his hands. Although the intervening time between him leaving this desk last night and coming back now felt like seconds and in fact were two hours and ten minutes, there were at least a dozen files on his desk, stacked and waiting. Mike swallowed each and every curse that crept upwards his throat and sat down. He sipped at the coffee, relieved him from his briefcase and took one last, deep breath before he faced up to the mountain of work.
The first file was no big deal, he finished it within half an hour and leaped to his feet. For a second or two he felt dizzy and was a little unsteady on his feet.
He shook his head to get rid of the feeling and grabbed the file. Less coffee, more water, he thought and walked to Louis' office. And something to eat. Yeah, eating in good company like Rachel … Mike took a peek at his watch. It was way to early to even think about a break. He turned the corner and mulled over a solution of his problem – almost bumping against Harvey.
"Hold your horses, kid."
"Yeah, sorry, my fault. Age for beauty."
"Eleven hundred hours, my office. We are meeting with Baxter. You finished the paper work, didn't you?"
"Was working on it the whole night."
"Good boy", Harvey praised his associate and walked away.
Okay, someone was in a really good mood. And that even without the cup of coffee Donna usually provided him with. Mike began to move again, wondering if this day wouldn't be that bad at all. A few minutes later, he put the files on Louis' desk, appreciating the man's absence. Mike returned to his own desk, suddenly feeling dizzy again. But it couldn't keep him from grinning. No, not now, not today. He took a tepidly gulp of coffee and thought about refilling the paper cup with some fresh coffee from the kitchen, but decided against it. The caffeine would do wonders, no matter if it was tepid or hot.
Smothering a yawn, Mike opened the stack's second file. He scanned the text, grimaced and grabbed the paper cup to empty it. The research would take an hour, perhaps one and a half. Before he rushed to the filing room, Mike glanced over the other files, ensuring that none of them needed to be finished before the meeting with Donald Baxter. He made a circuit to fetch a bottle of water from the fridge and then went downstairs to the filing room. A dull pain spread across his back with every step he took. Less coffee, more water, better mattress, thought and decided to put all of it on his to-do list. The idea of mattress shopping with Rachel on the weekend raised a smile.
Two hours later, the work was done and Mike on his way back to his cubical. Meanwhile, his head had started to ache and he had to fight a queasy feeling stomach. Perhaps it wasn't the lack of liquids and a suitable mattress, but he had a cold coming on. Mike, still not content to give up the believe in a good day, tried to ignore the symptoms and delivered Louis the research results. After a brief conversation that actually was Louis giving him more orders and Mike, good as gold, nodding and promising to deal with it immediately after the meeting with Baxter, Mike fetched the papers he prepared for Harvey and left for the senior partner's office.
Of all the clients Mike had the often dubious honor of working for, Donald Baxter was a silver lining: he was grounded, modest and had a great sense of humor. Mike wasn't sure if he was allowed to join the meeting until his near collision with Harvey this morning and now, he was really looking forward to see Baxter again.
"Well, well. Twenty minutes early? Good puppy", Donna greeted him. But her smile faded quickly and she gave him a worried look. "Coffee didn't work well, did it? You look worse than before."
Mike grinned, shook his head and wanted to retort, but fell into a lit of coughing. "The filing room gives me a black lung", he finally managed to answer, accepting the bottle of water Donna presented him. "Thanks." The cold water calmed his throat and stopped the coughing, but swallowing it caused sharp pain.
"Put the files on his desk and then go home. I'll tell Harvey that you are indisposed."
"I'm not indis ..."
"Do you really think, Harvey wants you to sit next to his client, coughing germs at him? Make an educated guess."
"Okay, okay. I surrender unconditionally", Mike responded, Donna looking daggers at him. He sighed, walked into Harvey's office and placed the file on the desk. Donna was right. Of course, she was. Giving Baxter his cold was definitely not the best way to make friends with him. Mike turned around and blinked, as his vision went blurry again. He rubbed his eyes, tried to focus, but felt drained and weak. Somehow, he managed to sit down, bent-forward, gasping for breath, the dull pain in his back and head exploding.
"I already told you: No barking, now growling, you will not lift your leg to anything in this house. This is not your room. No slobbering, no chewing, you ...", Harvey started to quote, but then fell silent. "Mike? If this is some sort of joke ..."
Mike wanted to answer, but he wasn't able to even open his mouth. He grit his teeth, wishing for the pain to go away, to magically disappear. He heard footsteps quickly coming closer, smelled the characteristic aftershave and felt relieved. Harvey would fix it. He always did, somehow. But the touch of Harvey's hands on his shoulders made him to scream with pain. In the twinkling of an eye, his skin was in flames, Damn! Please, stop it! Tears flooded his eyes, stop it, please, stop it, his whole body trembled and shook and seized. He fell to the ground, his heart racing, every single cell squalling in pain, frightened voices swashing over him. Help me … someone … please, help me ...
He watched the ambulance stopping in front of the building, paramedics rushing to the doors, carrying heavy gear, stern and concentrated looks on their faces, and took some photos. He tried to fight the smile that assumed control over his lips, but failed. Now he felt certain: not using all of the stuff was the right decision. He would take copious photographs, enough to fill dozens of photo albums. Even if they caught him – he knew that he could stand being imprisoned, as long as he had those pictures to look at, over and over again, giving him the exhilarating feeling that he finally defeated him. Once and for all.