A/N: OK. So this took too long to post. I hold my hands up; I drowned my laptop. For which I can only apologise, haha.

Sarah x

As she stalked the dim corridor cautiously, she tried to keep her nerve. She couldn't help feeling like she'd been here before, and that something horrible was fast approaching. She opened that door, the storage room door, and found the scene that she knew she would. Chantelle, bloodied and terrified. Fraser, standing over the young nurse.

But something changed, and this was suddenly not what she knew. What she knew was tending immediately to Chantelle. She didn't know that she would stand up, her shoulders square, and stare Fraser Pickering in the eyes. She didn't know that she would be pinned to the back wall, his hand wrapped around her throat. This wasn't familiar. She knew what had happened, and this wasn't it.

What was this? She could feel his grip tighten, her air supply being cut off. She could feel her chest tighten in a combination of no air and sheer panic.

And then, suddenly, she was in her hospital room, struggling to breathe. Her monitor was beeping in protest to the state her body was in. Ric was bursting in the door, glancing at the screen as he did so. His reaction was prompt; he'd seen this before in her, but he checked anyway. "Panic attack?" he asked her, his hand gently on her back. She forced her head up and down. "Slowly, Serena, slowly breathe. Now hold your breath," he ordered her. She obeyed, stopping the air from escaping. "Now try and breath normally. Shallow breaths," he said, rubbing her back gently.

It wasn't working. She couldn't breathe. She was going to die. She could feel it. "You're going to be fine," he assured her. "Come on, now. You're fine. Shallow breaths. You know this, Serena," he reminded her.

Someone else came in - she wasn't sure who - but Ric called for them to help him calm her down. It had been years since she'd had an attack this severe, and she could feel tears of terror fall down her cheeks. The newcomer came to her other side, and she realised the American had finally surfaced after hiding from her since she came around. He had her hand in his. "Come on, Serena," he ordered her. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. I won't let it," he promised.

She continued her attempts to control her breathing so she didn't suffocate - that was the first priority. "What the hell happened?" Michael demanded of Ric.

"I came in here twenty minutes ago and she was fast asleep," Ric retorted.

She was winning now. The tight vice squeezing her chest was loosening ever so slightly, and she was beginning to control her sharp, painful breaths. Ric's hand continued to rub her back, and Michael had her hand enclosed in both of his. Since when did they actually care about her? This wasn't normal. Wasn't what she was used to, at least. It wasn't so long ago that they couldn't sit in the same room for five minutes with offending each other.

She could feel her chest and lungs return to a bearable state, and she could focus more on what was going on. "I'm alright," she snapped, her defensiveness kicking in once again.

"Yeah, you look it," Michael replied sarcastically. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he relayed the old saying.

"Well, I wish it would stop haunting me," she answered with a glare. "So you decided to show your face then?" she quipped to Michael, distracting him from the ghosts. "Never mind," she sighed, shrugging Ric's hand away and yanking her's from Michael's grasp.

"Serena," Ric began. "You can't keep pretending this never happens. You can't pretend this hasn't been affecting you, because it obviously has had a huge impact."

"It's got nothing to do with you," she pointed out. She didn't need to hear what she was already so painfully aware of. She was just thankful Eleanor had gone to school today and didn't have to see this.

"Wanna bet?" Michael replied. "Right now, you are our patient," he reminded her of the inescapable fact that it had everything to do with them while she was under their care. And she wasn't stupid or desperate enough to discharge herself just to spite them. "It's understandable that you're traumatised. You've had to face that man twice now, and you had to fight to survive. Of course it's gonna leave it's mark."

Ric was nodding in agreement. So it was two against one. And if they went to Hanssen, she was sure to be overruled; she knew he did not take mental illness lightly. They were right. Of course they were; she just didn't want to face this again. The sleeplessness and the night terrors. The fear of the dark and the claustrophobia. The paranoia. The panic attacks that too often came out of nowhere. It was hard to fight but it was worse to ignore them, because as much as she liked to pretend otherwise, Michael was right.

She suddenly realised she was backed up to the very top of her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest. She must have looked, for once, as vulnerable as she felt. This was an intervention, she figured out too late. They had witnessed the worst and were now stepping in before it seriously damaged her.

She looked between them, trying to work out what they were thinking. "Fine," she whispered. "But no shrinks. I tried once and I can't stand it."

"I can put you on medication to help you control these attacks," Ric immediately suggested. "Is that acceptable to you?" he checked. She knew then that they, both of them, wanted to do this her way. The way she won before. They just wanted to make it easier on her if they could.

"Yes," she said. This felt strange, accepting help to overcome her weaknesses. It was perhaps more strange because these were weaknesses she had never admitted to and never planned to. She'd long been terrified of letting people see the cracks, the weaknesses. What if they thought less of her for it? What if they turned it to their advantage?

"How did this happen, Serena?" Michael asked. "Nightmare?" he guessed.

She once again nodded, and supplied, "I dreamt that it all went differently the other day, and he had me-" she was briefly cut short by a lump in her throat warning her of the fear and tears that could come. "-he had me pinned by the throat, and I couldn't breathe, so I panicked."

"OK," he sighed, his hand falling lightly onto her shoulder. "It's OK."

Ric nodded to Michael, and tousled Serena's dark hair lightly, receiving a glare for his trouble. He left, and she was alone with Michael, bearing all her cracks for him to see. She could feel the air being pushed in and out of her lungs, and she was suddenly grateful for that small action. That she was still capable of breathing was nothing short of a miracle, considering the trauma her body had been put through.

Her mind had been put through hell, too, and she could deny it all she wanted, but all three of them knew that she was in need of the support she habitually rejected.

This was what it was all about - staying alive. No, more than that. Living. She was outgoing and she had a sense of humour and she was good company, but it all was a façade to hide the fact she was unable to let any scar show. All of that meant nothing if she couldn't enjoy it. Everything had to change. She had to change to have a life this time. She couldn't settle for survival anymore. She needed more. Eleanor needed more.

This, unknown to her husband, had destroyed her marriage - as if it was worth having in the first place, since she had made life difficult for all involved. It had gone on too long. She was almost surprised that she was still standing. Perhaps if her ambition and thirst for knowledge and control hadn't taken over, she wouldn't have been. Her career became - apart from her daughter - the only thing of value left to her. But that wasn't a life. That was merely a survival.

"Survival is insufficient," she breathed.

Hope this is alright!
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me how I did!
Sarah x