A/N: Hi! So this is my first ever fic to be published. I've written a few for this fandom and for others but have NOT YET finished those stories. Technically I haven't finished this one either but I do see an end in sight and have already done nine chapters for this. Since I'm so excited for next week's return I decided to go ahead and publish this.

Some explanations on the timeline (SPOILER ALERT for Season 5): I started writing this some time around episodes 7 or 8 of season 5, after Mike was made Junior Partner and after his case with Robert Zane. The whole war between Louis and Harvey is what's off here though so let's just pretend Harvey hasn't punched Louis yet but Mike was made Junior Partner and Hardman hasn't come after them yet. OR Harvey did punch Louis but they made up quickly and he, Donna and Harvey are on truce-mode and Hardman still hasn't come after them. Soloff's doing whatever.

The themes of this story (especially the introspective parts) echo the theme of Season 5's episode 10, even though I started writing it before I saw that episode so I'm really happy about that. (Hope that means the characters aren't OOC) Anyway, excited for the season's return!

And with that I shall no longer keep you waiting and let you read on (sorry for the long A/N. Beginner's nerves I guess hehe).


Chapter 1: In Which Mike Muses

Mike POV

Mike rubs his eyes as he reads a sentence from the document in front of him for what feels like the hundredth time but is probably just the sixth. He screws his eyes shut, gives up and leans back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. It's only the middle of the week but already he's feeling bone-tired.

Granted, since he started life as a fake lawyer some four years ago, that has come to be expected. Expected a lot, in fact. He was after all working at one of New York's premiere law firms and not only that, but when he'd begun—actually the reason he'd begun—he'd been working as an associate for New York's best closer. So of course, sleepless nights, working weekends and generally your soul being owned by said big law firm and its bigwig clients was to be expected.

What was ironic however was that this week, and the week before it in fact were one of those few weeks where the employees of Pearson Specter Litt could expect to be cut some slack. If there was ever an off season for law suits, it would have been those two weeks. Mike and most of the partners and associates he usually worked with had had no big clients to close, no major cases to deal with and no outside parties seeking to sue or countersue their clients.

Last week all of Mike's work had been comprised of simply finishing up what was considered menial work—stuff he hadn't gotten around to while handling bigger and more urgent cases. He'd spent his week polishing a few dozen or so minor briefs, drawing up fresh new contracts for ones that were about to expire and keeping the large store of clients Jessica, Harvey or even Louis had happy by simply checking in on them and their businesses with the firm.

It had been menial work. Maintenance work. And when Mike had begun his previous week, he'd gone into it with all the determination of a housewife who finally had the house all to herself to fix and clean and straighten out while the kids and spouse were away. Like spring cleaning for a lawyer. For lack of a better metaphor. He'd been raised by his grandmother after all.

Yet by the time Friday had rolled around Mike had been home just after business hours ended approximately twice that week and even then he'd brought some of his work home with him. Rachel would have probably made him rest more or even helped him with some of his work in fact. He was after all a Junior Partner now. And she an associate/paralegal. But as luck would have it, just when work at the office had been light for both him and Rachel, her law school had dumped an enormous amount of work on her. Hence, she too came home way past closing time more often than he had that week. Mike figured he should at least be grateful that her hell week at law school hadn't coincided with a crucial or busy week at the firm.

They'd had the weekend off at least. But having been so busy at work that week, left their weekend with a ton of chores and errands that needed to be caught up on. Again, Mike had to be grateful everything contributing to his tiredness right now had all been grunt work and not some stressful case where the barrel of a gun had been staring him down the throat and he'd exhausted all his 146 ways.

Now into his second week of menial maintenance grunt work though, Mike felt as if that might as well have been the case. This week he'd been cleaning up some contracts that would soon need to be renewed. Today he'd found there had been something fishy about one of the original ones that he felt would definitely cause their client problems later. The client had been Harvey's and one of his oldest ones in fact. It was a small clause and it hadn't caused problems before but in all the experience he'd had practicing law with a fake degree, Mike knew better than anyone that just because something was working now, didn't mean it would keep going that way. And it was his job to make sure his—or rather, Harvey's—client's problems were solved. And that included problems that had not yet arisen but were bound to. He thought of it as preventive lawyering with a smirk.

If his dedication to his job had been questioned before, no one could question it now if he'd been working this hard when the ball wasn't even in the court. Pun intended. The tricky bit was that he'd have to convince Harvey and even more so his client that this clause was going to cause problems while at the same time coming up with another clause that would stop those problems and not cause any of its own.

This now was what was giving Mike a headache. He sat back in his chair trying to massage it away when Rachel walked in.

"Hey handsome, I just came in to give you this, Mr. Junior Partner Sir," she said quite smugly. It had been a few weeks and she was still bursting with pride for him and his new position. Her smugness however did not seem to exude from that same pride. It seemed more like she was pleased with herself.

"It's that old case you were looking for? Landman vs Zach 1993," she continued. "You were right, that clause could cause some problems if we're not too careful."

"You are a Godsend, did I ever tell you that?" Mike replied sitting upright and taking the file from her. He started to read what she highlighted but the words on the page suddenly seemed blurry and out of focus. He opened his eyes wider, much like someone who'd just woken up and shifted the paper slightly further to be able to get a good read on the thing.

Thankfully Rachel seemed not to have noticed having been distracted by her buzzing phone. It must've been Donna or somebody with some office gossip by the way she smirked at her screen. Mike was blown by the way he could read her every expression now. But right now he was more blown by the fact that he still couldn't make out half the words on the document she'd handed him. He must've been really tired.

Not wanting to worry his fiancé with his sudden loss of sight—or at least lens focus, he casually dropped the file on his desk and grabbed her waist. She responded with a soft giggle putting her phone down and looking into his eyes.

"Let's go home early" he said sweetly. It was probably already six anyway. And while they normally left at around seven or later (much later if they were working an important or urgent case), he didn't think either of them would be needed at the office anymore.

"Why? You got something special planned Mr Ross?" she responded playfully. Mike smirked. Then let out a soft sigh.

"Actually I'm just kinda tired," he said truthfully. He wasn't sure he was really up for anything her tone was suggesting, tempting as it sounded. Might as well come clean now, before she got excited. "Aren't you?" he continued. "I mean you were hardly home last week."

"Yeah but I did get some rest during the weekend and this week's been a lot lighter," she smiled. "Probably the lightest I've had in years at Pearson Specter Litt, actually. But if you're tired then, yeah, let's go home. I don't think I'll be needed here anymore and I can cook us dinner."

"Sweet," he said smiling up at her lazily.

She leaned in to give him a kiss on his forehead, but she pulled away with a frown.

"Are you really just feeling tired, not sick?"

He frowned, confused. How could she know he had a headache from just kissing his forehead?

"What do you mean?"

"Your forehead is warm," she explained, placing one hand on his forehead and the other cupping his face. "Really warm, in fact."

"It's probably nothing, just over worked," he shrugged, pulling away. "I'll take some Tylenol or something when we get home if it hasn't gone away by then."

She still looked worried so he started packing his things. "C'mon."

Rachel took one more suspicious look at him and went to get her things from her office. Mike made sure to wait a few seconds before letting out the cough he'd been holding in. His whole body felt suddenly heavy. But he couldn't be getting sick could he?

Granted it was better that he would be forced to use his sick leaves now rather than when they had a big case to close. But it still didn't say much for his immune system if his body couldn't handle a little (okay well, maybe a lot) of grunt work. He really did hope it was nothing.

At home Rachel busied herself in the kitchen while Mike watched some TV. She'd insisted he sit and rest while she made dinner. To alleviate her concerns, he'd quoted along with some of the lines of Braveheart. She gave an appreciative laugh from the kitchen every now and then or a response to some of his mindless comments on the pros and cons of not wearing any underwear under a kilt during the Dark Ages. Mike's exhaustion was getting the better of him though and half-yelling out his comments or the lines was making his throat hurt and he soon subsided to simply watching the movie. Before he knew it, Rachel was shaking him awake. He woke with a start and saw the end credits rolling on the TV screen.

"Sorry," he said. "Must've dosed off." She smiled kindly but her eyes showed her concern.

"Mike, you're still kinda warm. Did you take anything yet?" she asked him softly.

He shook his head sleepily. "Nah, but I figure I should eat something first huh? Dinner ready yet?"

"Of course," she responded. "I made your favorite—or well, your favorite of my dishes anyway since burritos aren't really my forte." She smirked as he let out a soft chuckle.

"Those burritos are a masterpiece, thank you very much," he said, sounding offended. "But…your dish is the best pompously named dish I've ever tasted so I'd say it's a tie."

She laughed and smacked his arm lightly before correcting him. "Its name is Beef Bourguignon. Julia Child translated its recipe from French to English so Americans could enjoy French cooking from their own homes, you Philistine."

"Philistine, whoa! Don't be so hostile Gordon Ramsey. And I know, I saw the movie. I'm sure you would have given the Amy Adams character a run for her money. But couldn't Julia Child have changed the dish's name to something English too? I mean a lot more Americans could relate a lot easier to something they could pronounce…or spell."

"Oh shut up and eat, Mister smarty-pants."

"Smarty pants huh? Getting creative are we?" he continued to tease but obediently shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth.

They continued on this way for a while and Mike was actually starting to feel better. He took some medicine anyway so she wouldn't worry anymore. Despite their light banter at dinner, he could still feel her concern for him emanating from her. Probably like she could still feel him radiating feverish heat too, he thought wryly.

Yet despite the circumstance that had brought it on, Mike was glad to have discovered they were at a place like this. Where they could practically read each other's minds. And where they took care of themselves so the other one wouldn't worry. It had been such a roller coaster, their few years together. What with his practicing law with a fake degree, her finding out, him almost getting caught (about a handful of times too), her going to law school, him switching jobs, her cheating on him, him coming back to work and to her, then him working with her father on a case and almost accusing him of doing something shady…well, who could call their relationship normal?

But this here, right now, this felt normal and so right. They might have had ups and downs that were completely different from what other people had. But they had definitely reached that place in their relationship where their bond had been tested and only come out stronger. Like the way he knew his parents had cared about each other. They definitely hadn't gone through what he and Rachel had, yet he knew their bond was just as strong if not stronger. Despite all the setbacks he'd had in life, Mike was grateful he was able to have what his parents had had in his life.


A/N: So thanks for reading but this is NOT A ONESHOT. The chapters will end this way, introspective and so will seemingly close the story but unless I put a THE END that is not the end. So please read on. I've already written the next eight chapters but feel free to comment on how you think the story should go, I may just edit the story or put your suggestions in the ending since I haven't written that. Or just comment on whatever you want too, that's fine as well. Again thanks for reading and just to remind you THIS IS NOT THE END.

Next chapter, Rachel's POV.