Whom shall I fear, whom should I be afraid of?

It was the most comfortable Mike had been in a while. He wanted to sink more into the pressing warmth around him. Staying like this forever would be, if not the best thing in the world, his salvation. He opened his eyes and tilted his chin up with a smile. Jenny smiled down at him, her warm fingers stroking an intricate pattern down his cheek and jawline.

"What are you afraid of, Mike?" She demanded softly, her voice oozing with cordiality. Despite the comfort that weaved through his system with her touch and voice…it sent a shiver down his spine.

I don't know…

"Who are you afraid of?" She probed a little quitter this time.

The stalker…

"Who is that?"

I don't know. He frowned. What a one sided conversation. He lifted his hand and twined her fingers with his own, sighing with content. He wanted to stay like this forever. Never go back to that world filled with misery, guilt, and the horror that was yet to come.

"But you must…" She cooed, her free hand drifting between the roots of his hair gently. He closed his eyes, and leaned against her. For what reason should he go back there? Right now, all he could think about was how much he missed Jenny and how much he wanted to be with her…

"There are people waiting for you…" She murmured softly in his ear. He opened his eyes again and suddenly he was standing. Everything around him was pitch black.

"Jenny?" He called. There was no answer. The silence was deafening. His hands rose and pressed them against his ears. Suddenly. Pain beyond comprehension.

It started from his heart. It ripped through his rib cage and crawled into his arms, legs, fingers; until it reached his brain. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. No scream of agony. Terror could not rip from his throat. He was pinned.

"I love you…" Jenny whispered.

Mike gasped his back arching in pain as he opened his eyes. White. Everything was white.

Dead. I'm dead. I killed myself.

But why was it so painful?

His fingers found the sheets below him and they twisted themselves amongst the creases and folds as an inhuman, strained, and guttural scream erupted from his throat.

"Mr. Ross, you must calm down!"

A voice was somewhere nearby him, but he could barely hear it over the screams.

His own?

"Shh…everything will be fine."

His screams slowly died down and he felt himself drift into darkness again. The pain was gone and replaced with Jenny's warmth. She was staring at him sadly. He reached out to touch her, but his fingers simply disappeared through her.

"Jenny…what's happening to me?" Mike asked, his voice cracked with emotions he should have never experienced in his lifetime.

"Wake up Mike!" She shouted. He felt himself fall and he reached up trying to grab her as the earth swallowed him bodily.

"Jenny!"

His eyes opened again and he sat up, fighting for breath. His body felt numb. He touched his arms his legs. His bed? This was not his bed. In fact, everything that was around him was very familiar. White. White everywhere. He looked around.

Hospital.

He was at the hospital again. His hand instinctively flew to his chest and he searched for the blood, the scar, the bandages. But there was nothing. He looked under his shirt. No mark. It never happened. He furrowed his brows.

Was he going insane? He was almost positive he was aiming a knife towards his chest just a few seconds ago.

"Ah, you're awake." A woman greeted, as she opened the door. Mike looked up and gripped the sheets a little tighter. He couldn't feel his nails digging into his leg.

"W-what's happening?" Mike demanded of the strawberry blond. Donna. She paused and tilted her head.

"You're going to need to be a little more specific," she prompted, sitting down and crossed one leg over the other.

"W-where am I, why am I here?" He placed a palm against his hand and caught sight of the white and blue hospital wristband, his identification labeled in Courier New.

"Do you want the obvious answer, or the sugar coated answer?" She asked sweetly. Mike stared at her with dull eyes, like he couldn't understand what she just said, and she gave a small sigh.

"You're at the hospital, Harvey brought you in because he said you were on the brink of a panic attack or some such nonsense," she waved her hand, "in any case, it was a good thing too. The doctor just explained to me that you had two broken ribs and they could have easily punctured into one of your internal organs."

Earning another blank look, she tried again, "Harvey took you here because you almost died."

Mike looked off to the side, a small sigh releasing from between his lips. His hand absentmindedly moved to the wrapped up areas where his ribs were being healed. From his peripheral vision, he saw Donna staring at him, her eyes narrowed and red lips parted like she was on the verge of saying something. Mike looked at her, and she seemed to lose what she had to say, shaking her head slowly.

"Where's Harvey?" Mike asked after a few seconds of silence. He couldn't stand the silence now.

"He told me he was going to visit you later," looking at his confused gaze, she again, explained, "new client."

Mike tilted his head, replying to her lined gaze with innocently knit eyebrows, "But I thought he took me here? Why is he at work?" He was painfully reminded about how that night; he may have ultimately broken the trust that was hanging by sinews. Why would he even fail to mention that to his friend? Ex or not…Trevor had the right to know. Mike ruined everything. Like he has since his birth.

Donna stared at him.

"Because it's Wednesday?" She said airily, like it should be obvious. Mike gaped at her.

"W-Wednesday?"

Her black painted nails tapped on his bedside and he winced with every noise.

"You've been out for six days now," she looked up at the ceiling, "well, you kept waking up screaming and they had to sedate you a lot." She looked at him again, and he could see the question dancing in her eyes.

"I'm not crazy." Mike replied coolly. Liar.

"Your doubt is deafening," she responded softly, "but I won't question any further."

Mike looked away. I'm not crazy. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not.

"When can I leave, I have to talk to Trevor." Mike said, struggling to sit up further, already trying to rip the IV imbedded into his arms, when a spark of pain rushed down his spine. Donna got up, pushing him back down against the bed.

"Hey, sit still. I can't let you go anywhere." Mike heard the sternness in her voice, but her eyes flickered with worry. How un-Donna. For some reason, it pissed him off.

"Just leave me alone…" Mike responded, staring hard at his white sheets. His body started aching again, and he just wanted to forget that anything that things were wrong with reality. And his mind.

"Can't do that either," Donna sniped.

"Then get me fucking Harvey," Mike snapped, completely done with her snide tone. She furrowed her brows, a clever retort dancing behind her lips, but instead she nodded and took out her cell phone. Mike pressed his face against his pillows, his eyes shutting tightly over his blue hues.

"Mike…" He felt her hand on his shoulder and he violently pushed her away.

"I told you to leave me alone!" He yelled, his voice cracking a little. Donna stared at him, her arm up in defense. Mike looked at her, surprised at his own actions. For a second he thought he saw…fear in the woman's eyes. But she turned away and speed dialed who must've been Harvey. Mike let his head hang in shame. Donna was only trying to be nice and he attacked her. Did he really change that much?

It's all the stalker's fault. The stalker was tearing him apart from the inside out. He belonged to the stalker; mind and soul. His fingers snaked into his hair and he tangled them among the strands, pulling at them painfully. Only Harvey was left…thankfully.

Only Harvey was left. Because the stalker just loved Harvey.

"…Alright…" Donna was speaking, but Mike was barely paying attention. His hands moved to the back of his neck and he let out a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

What had the stalker destroyed?

His psyche.

He had nothing left…not even Trevor who was a multiple variable kind of friend, but would be there when he needed him most. The person he'd known from forever, was gone too. And he probably wasn't going to come back this time.

Broken.

The thoughts kept circulating in his mind like a broken record. Mike is broken, Mike is gone. Mike is no more. Mike is dead.

"See you." Donna said, her phone closing with a snap. She turned to Mike and surveyed him, hands on hip. Mike held her gaze, but was the first to look away and he lay back down, closing his eyes. All anxiety he had seen before was gone. Now she was just Donna. It made him smile ever so slightly. At least she was still there. At least Grammy was still alive. Rachel was still well.

Harvey was still there for him.

When he opened his eyes the room was dark. He got up silently and gazed around in the dimness, the whiteness that once was now black. He blinked sleep from his eyes and shivered. He was alone. He didn't like to be alone. He groaned when pain shot through his entire system and he fell back against the bed. When was the last time he had been this sore?

He glanced over at the end table and saw a small note attached by a piece of tape to the corner. Immediately, his heart was in his throat. Paper. Paper. He hated paper. Paper always symbolized something bad. Paper always symbolized the stalker. The alarm resounded in his head and his teeth clenched. He reached shakily to pluck the paper from its place and hesitantly read its contents with bated breath:

Mike,

I came in and saw you were sleeping, so I decided to come back tomorrow. I might be a little late because I need to get a few witnesses on board for the trial coming up on Friday, but that shouldn't take too long. Rachel will visit you in the morning.

Harvey.

Short and to the point. Mike sighed, cursing himself silently for missing Harvey, and crumpled the note up tossing it carelessly to the floor. He winced as he lay back down on his back, and gazed up at the ceiling with a heavy heart. He hated the silence. It felt like anything and everything could fill it. Even something terrible…

It was silent. Mike and Grammy were sitting out in the waiting room, her hand was clasped around his own and she tried to get him to eat the cookies she brought with them. Each time she tried to push it to his mouth; he would turn his head away and stare into space. Finally, she gave up. They sat in complete silence. A few hours passed, or maybe it was an eternity (it sure felt like it to a small child) but the only two people in the waiting room heard the rousing footsteps of an approaching doctor. Grammy got to her feet stiffly and met the doctor halfway. Mike tried willing himself to move, but his bottom stayed glued to the seat. Instead, he watched his Grammy.

She started to cry.

Mike knew it.

A tear slid from the corner of Mike's eye and he wiped it away casually. He reached over the end table again and pawed around for the familiar texture of his cellphone. His fingertips brushed it and he brought it closer to him. He turned on his side painfully, and flicked it open.

Ten o' clock.

He furrowed his brows. Maybe it would be okay. Hopefully she was still awake. He dialed the memorized number and held it to his ear.

"I had a feeling I would be hearing from you," the voice answered on the other line. Mike closed his eyes and smiled. Grammy's voice always managed to put him at ease.

"Hey…sorry for calling so late," Mike answered, his voice soft and sounded like it came down from a long tunnel.

"Nonsense, you can call me whenever you want; besides, I haven't heard from my grandson in a while." She answered, shuffling could be heard.

"What's bothering you?"

Mike was silent for a few moments. He promised he wouldn't tell anyone. But…he felt like he was going to explode.

"Nothing…Grammy…" He whispered.

"Don't lie to an old woman," she chided, "I know when you're lying."

Mike couldn't help but laugh.

"I've just been thinking…about Mom and Dad."

It was Grammy's turn to be silent. In all actuality, Mike was thinking about the stalker. He wanted it to all end, and went to such great lengths. He furrowed his brows. But he couldn't even remember what happened when he pointed the knife to his chest. It was moving, and he heard Harvey's voice…and then suddenly he was waking up in the hospital. He needed to talk to Harvey, but obviously the man was busy. Mike tried not to let it get to him.

"Oh, I see then…what would you like to know?" Grammy asked her voice cautious. Mike bit his lower lip. He didn't think about his parents often. When he was seeing apparitions of them…it just felt like they were alive. But ever since those left him…he didn't think about them once. Guilt gnawed at the lining of his belly. He was too occupied with his own life to even pay them respects.

"I guess…I just…miss them." Mike answered, staring into the shadowed corner.

"Mike, they loved you very much," Grammy replied her voice stronger now, "they wanted their son to succeed, and you have."

Mike closed his eyes. His Grammy didn't hear how much he was broken.

"I know that…" He said. A complete lie. He didn't believe that…if they really wanted him to succeed, why would they always leave him. Maybe if they hadn't gone to that building inspection, they wouldn't have been killed in that freak accident with the supports, and he wouldn't have to have grown up without a mother and a father. Maybe he would have never met Trevor…he would never have gotten this job at Pearson Hardman; he would have never met Harvey.

His life would be…normal.

He just wanted it all to end.

"Mike…"

"I got to go Grammy. Harvey needs me. Night." Mike hung up, and threw the phone across the room. He heard the small loose bits break off and bounce across the floor. He eased under the sheets and closed his eyes tightly, tears darkening the cloth against his face.

My past won't stop haunting me. In this prison there's a fight.

Who I am and who I used to be

"The medications are in the cabinet over there," Harvey said, pointing to the right location. Rachel nodded. Mike watched them with a bored gaze, his head hanging over the side of the couch as he watched them upside down. It had been three days since he got out of the hospital, and Harvey didn't let him be alone. Not that Mike would trust himself. Currently, he had no thoughts but how he could end it. But now, he was under constant supervision. He felt like a child again. The first two days, Harvey managed to stay home and take care of Mike's recovery for the crucial forty-eight hours of his homecoming, but then he had to go talk to a witness who decided to drop on him. Donna came and took care of him the next day, grudgingly, and now Rachel was going to be in charge.

Mike hated that he had to make them do these things for him. He was definitely not worth it.

When Mike had a chance, he finally asked Harvey about what happened that night, and quite simply Harvey put it as, 'you almost killed yourself with a butter knife'. For some reason, Mike had a feeling he was leaving something out, but the other man refused to continue. His recovery was a slow process, and had to be on several medications in order for him not to feel as much pain as he should be in. Thanks to the quantity, he was always in a daze or high as he liked to call it. Personally, he felt like he deserved all the pain in the world, but the doctors said otherwise.

"Don't let him take a shower and make sure nothing in there is sharp…" He was now telling Rachel. Mike gazed out through the glass walls and heaved a small sigh. There was no escaping.

"I got it, I got it," Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. The woman was dressed in yoga sweats and a black sweatshirt. Her long hair was piled high into a messy bunny, strands of hair cascading down her collar bone with easy perfection. Mike looked away before he could start drooling and would have to blame it on the medications again.

Harvey gave her a fleeting look, and Mike couldn't help but notice there was a lot of tension between them. He silently wondered if something happened while he was gone…but both of them didn't speak a word about it to him.

"Right," the senior partner answered, "I'll see you later then Mike. Don't wreck the place or yourself." He warned, it sounded like it would be teasingly, but he was dead serious. Mike saluted and took his glass elevator down. Mike watched him disappear below, and then looked at Rachel who was twisting some hair around her index finger.

"So you have to take these pills in about ten minutes, but you have to eat something with it. What do you want?" She asked, walking towards the kitchen.

"How about some cyanide!" Mike yelled after her. She stuck her head out from the kitchen and gave him a warning look. Mike rubbed his scalp.

"Just joking…"

"Not funny." She said flatly, disappearing again. Mike could hear her moving things out of the fridge. He rested back against the couch and let out a loud yawn, expecting to get a few winks of sleep for a bit before he would get drugged out of his mind by OxyContin. After a bit, Mike was awoken out of his little nap by Rachel's constant nudging.

"Where'sa fire…" Mike slurred, his hand wiping at his eyes. Rachel sighed and placed a bowl full of steaming soup on a foldout table.

"Here you go, finish it." She said, placing down a spoon. Mike frowned.

"You didn't have to make anything; I could have made it myself." Mike muttered. Rachel bit her lip and sighed.

"And what if you tried to kill yourself?"

"Jesus Christ!" Mike shouted, getting up. Rachel's eyes widened and she backed up a few steps. He breathed heavily through his nose and clenched his fists. "Everyone thinks I'm just a bomb waiting to explode!" He gritted his teeth and stormed over to the wall. His fist connected with it and he cursed heavily under his breath.

"Mike stop it!" Rachel yelled, catching his next punch before he could do anymore damage. His knuckles ached, purplish red rings forming around them quickly against his pale skin. She sighed and let go, guiding him back to sit down. His whole body ached.

"…sorry," he said after some time.

"Eat." She pushed the bowl towards him, and walked back to the kitchen. Mike stared into the swirling depths with contempt. She didn't understand. But how could she? Only Jenny and Harvey understood. And Jenny was dead. And Harvey was at work.

He finished the soup relatively quickly, accepting the burn that scarred his tongue as punishment for acting so violently towards Rachel; especially since he was trying to prove to her that he could handle himself.

"Here are your pills, Mike," Rachel said quietly, handing him two speckled gray tablets. She gave him water, but he merely tossed his head back and gulped down the tablets dry. She sighed and brought the water back into the kitchen. She walked back out and sat down on the couch next to him, and he looked at her with a small sigh.

"I'm sorry…" he repeated. Rachel rolled her eyes and gently pushed his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it."

Mike pressed his palms against his eyes, clenching and unclenching his teeth.

"You. Don't. Understand." He whispered. Feeling her hand wrap around his arm, and he jerked away.

"I want to understand…" She uttered, and he lifted his head from his hands, giving her a faraway stare.

"How much do you trust me…?"

They sat in complete silence after Mike finished his tale. He quietly asked for the water. Rachel got up without another word and brought him the glass. They remained like that while he quietly sipped the cool liquid. Despite the heavy tension about what he just said…about everything. From the very beginning. From when he got the first letter up till when Jenny died...

He felt like a huge weight was lifted from his heart.

"I can't believe…I never knew." Rachel said, rubbing her temple, her black lined eyes closing slowly.

"I…I can't believe I told you." Mike said, his voice shaking slightly. Rachel looked at him and her fingers crept over his own.

"Nothing is going to happen to me. I promise." She murmured. Mike shut his eyes, feeling her sincere touch against his hand was so conversant…

"Are you okay…?" Mike asked, looking at her with a curious gaze.

She smiled, "I'm fine."

Mike didn't look convinces, "You know…The average person tells 4 lies a day or 1460 a year; a total 87,600 by the age of 60. And the most common lie is: I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes, "Where did you get that statistic from."

Mike tapped his forehead, "I…I just wanted to make sure…now…I'm sure you understand some things that have been happening better. Like how…Jenny's death was definitely not a suicide." He whispered.

"Why isn't Harvey doing anything about this?" Rachel demanded. Mike shook his head.

"He is…he's hired an investigator, but they haven't found anything…it's like this person doesn't even exist."

Rachel averted her gaze, and squeezed his hand, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I see…well…don't worry. Everything will be okay, Mike," She said looking up at him, her eyes ever so slightly gazing towards his lips, "I'm here for you too."

"Rachel…" Mike breathed, moving closer and seized Rachel's mouth with his own. She eased away astonished for a few moments, but as he stared back at her with tear-filled eyes, she gave in and enveloped her arms around his neck.

"Mike…"

And he returned to the sweet Nirvana again while pushing her down against the couch, when all of a sudden breath became breath.

Becoming one.

"How was your day?" Harvey asked, just as he got out of the elevator. He removed his suit jacket and rested a hand on the back of the couch where Mike was sitting. Mike was still thinking about Rachel…He felt so guilty, so dirty. Was he betraying Jenny, for being with Rachel? When did he cross the line? Why was everything so confusing now…

"Mike?"

Mike jolted out of his thoughts and rubbed his forehead looking at Harvey with wide eyes, "Uh – hey…Harvey," He coughed, trying not to make it seem like nothing had happened. "Did you get that…witness – or whatever?"

"Yes, all she needed was a little push in the right direction – now what is it?"

Mike looked away, a hand finding its way in his hair, "I told Rachel…everything." He was met with silence. Mike looked cautiously back to Harvey who was giving him a blank expression.

"About what?" He inquired. Mike snorted.

"You know what."

"How did she react?" Was his next question, and Harvey sat down. Mike sighed and rubbed the sore patch around his lower ribs where they were still mending. The pain medication had worn off by now.

"…Fine…actually."

"Fine as in…whatever?" Harvey said, giving him a stern look. Mike frowned.

"Fine as in…she's…I don't know!" Mike said throwing his hands up, and wincing in the sharp pain under his ribs.

Harvey rested his back against the couch and slid his index finger across his jaw, "I see…has there been any…word from the stalker then?" Mike bit his lip and shook his head, he might as well leave what happened next with Rachel out of this conversation.

"No…not yet. I don't think it will be too long before we're hearing from them again." Mike whispered, his heart already beating nervously in his chest. Harvey nodded, silently agreeing with that fact. Despite himself, Mike found himself growing accustomed to the idea with this constant cat and mouse chase. He was losing control of himself, so he might as well just go with the flow. All he could do was hope that he was still strong enough to protect the ones he loved.

"Why do you think they care about you so much Harvey?" Mike questioned suddenly, and fixed Harvey with an inquisitive stare, "Don't you think everything would be better if you severed all ties with me, rather than keeping this whole thing up? Why do you insist on making sure I'm safe…what they want is for you to stop caring about me…that is if you even care?"

Mike could see Harvey's jaw move like he was grounding his teeth together, "What is it, Harvey?"

Harvey still didn't say anything, and Mike knit his eyebrows together a confused look coming into his eyes, "Harvey just tell me!"

"I do." Harvey ground out wearily. Mike blinked.

"What?"

"I…care."

Mike opened his mouth several times. Then a silly grin lit up his face…something rarely seen in the past days. "Really?" It soon faded. "But…does this mean the stalker will never…stop…until they finally destroy me?" Mike looked away, his vision blurring.

Harvey grabbed Mike's shoulder, surprising him even more, "Look, the stalker won't be able to destroy you because there's no way in hell I'm going to let that happen. Just remember Mike. I'm here for you."

Mike's eyes shone and he nodded wordlessly, his eyes feeling rather wet now, "Thanks…Harvey…" He whispered. Harvey nodded stiffly and let go, getting up.

"Which pill do you have to take now?"

The night went by quickly, and Mike was getting ready for bed. He wrapped a towel around his waist once he stepped out of the shower, and stood in front of the mirror, surveying his appearance. He looked even worse than before. His skin was a sickly pale, and his eyes looked hallow; aged far beyond his time. His body was rattled with bruises and scars from Trevor's assault and the surgery because of it, as well as the thick bandaging around his midriff and leg. He turned away, unable to stand the sad reflection before him.

"Mike hurry up!" Harvey yelled, knocking on the door.

"'Kay!" Mike replied, drying off the rest of his body before getting dressed into some borrowed pajamas. He left the bathroom and Harvey pushed past him muttering something about 'taking too much time to primp'. Mike rolled his eyes and limped over to his couch. Even though he was injured, and had sick person's privilege, Harvey insisted that he couldn't sleep on Harvey's bed, because Harvey had a bad back. What a diva. Mike placed the appropriate blanketing over the already comfortable couch and fluffed his pillow. He eased under the sheets and drew a blanket over himself. The evenings were getting chilly as Christmas was coming around, and the weather station on T.V. said that snow was going to come around later in the week. He sighed snuggled into the deep recesses of the warmth surrounding him, fighting to get some sleep before he'd have to deal with another day of his breaking morale.

And then his phone rang.

Or more so…the phone Harvey bought for him, seeing as he pretty much massacred his old one.

He growled under his breath, listening to the vibrating as well as Harvey moving around in the other room; getting ready to go to sleep himself. Mike sat up slowly, wincing and cursing under his breath; a nasty habit he found himself doing more and more lately. But, who could blame him? He reached for his phone, just as it stopped vibrating, and the screen flashed 'One Missed Alert'. Mike sighed and debated on whether to read it now or just wait until tomorrow, but he decided he might as well just get it out of the way before he forgot. He clicked on it and looked around wearily, seeing it was from Rachel.

From: Rachel

To: Mike

Hey, guess who? Rachel!

Oh no, just kidding. It's me, you're little friend. How dare you get Harvey to say he cares about you! How is this even possible anymore, to what extents will he show you…Whatever the case, I'm going to continue what I'm doing until I get the results I want…if Harvey really does care about you…Well, let's not think about such cruel and unusual punishment shall we? You're probably wondering why I'm not doing my usual letter thing; this just seemed like it would be a lot easier. Text messaging is the more modern way to go nowadays, you know? An (1/2)

It got cut off, and then the second part came.

From: Rachel

To: Mike

yways, you're little friend gave you quite a harsh beating huh? Serves you right. You didn't even tell him about his dead girlfriend, but as usual, Harvey came to the rescue. Where would you be without him? Don't you feel any guilt about putting so much trouble onto him? Also, why would you tell this bitch about our little secret? I had to 'borrow' her phone because I needed to show you that I'm not playing. I wish you could see how mad I am…in fact, maybe I'll just show you. I'm preparing a new gift for you. Although it might take a while…she is quite clever.

Mike didn't know what to do. How to act. What to say. So...all he could do was scream. Scream and scream, until Harvey came running.

"Mike what's the matter!" Harvey yelled, as Mike doubled over in hysterics.

This was not happening. This couldn't be happening. Why did he tell Rachel? Why did she have to get involved? Mike sobbed harshly, his chest aching with the pain. He couldn't catch his breath as he asphyxiated on his own choking gasps.

"Calm down, Mike!" Harvey shook Mike, trying to get him to calm down. Mike shook his head, emitting another screech and flailed around, trying to rid himself of this place. Of this world. He felt his face wrenched forward, and his blue pools met Harvey's comforting brown hues.

"Mike…relax…" Harvey whispered, pulling Mike close. Mike was soon reduced to pathetic sobs.

"Rachel…Rachel…" He whispered, "w-w-we have to g-go sav-save her."

Expecting a fight or a demand of what was happening, Harvey just squeezed him and let go, "I'll get the car."