Once again, I apologize for the posting error with chapter 24. It is now fixed, and if you haven't read the corrected version, please do so before reading this chapter. And now...Enjoy!

Mike wasn't feeling very good. He felt shaky and wired, like he'd had too much Red Bull on an empty stomach.

The shadows around the room kept shifting, changing and transforming into various figures, but never clear enough to let him actually hold the image for long.

He knew they weren't real, that he was imagining them, but they felt real. He wished he'd actually listened to Harvey "Heartless" Specter and just gone home, but reasoned that he'd probably have had a panic attack on his bike and gotten himself killed. He really needed to stop thinking about death.

What was wrong with him anyway? It's not like he'd actually gotten hurt—well, aside from being hit on the head, knocked into a bunch of metal shelves, and given amnesia. He hadn't actually died, so there was no reason for any of this. It made Mike angry and bitter; it made him feel like Harvey's words were all the more true. He hated that, thought he'd gotten past it.

"Mike?"

"What?" he said, starting at the sound of his name. He looked around to see Harry looking expectantly at him. The shadows crossed and shifted behind him, and Mike followed one out the corner of his eye.

"I asked if you had the one on the estate in North Bend. I can't find it and I need to cross reference it with this one." Harry looked mildly concerned, but he hadn't really stopped looking mildly concerned since Jessica Pearson had arrived. Apparently, Mike had freaked him out so much that he'd grabbed the nearest person from the hallway to assist him. Mike hoped he hadn't actually grabbed their boss, or he didn't think he'd be working with Harry again soon.

"Um, yeah, I think so. I put it down a minute ago. Let me see," Mike said, searching through the papers on his side of their table. He remembered working on it, so it had to be around somewhere.

He bent down to search the stack at his feet. His eyes scanned the pages in front of him as he moved the folders. There was a shadow over one of his pages and Mike froze, looking up to search for the source.

There was nothing but air before him, and when he looked down again, there was no shadow. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He really needed to get over this. There was no excuse for how pathetic his mind was behaving right now. Harvey would be ashamed, Mike thought before realizing that Harvey had been ashamed.

Angry again, he picked up his pace, digging through the folders. "Found it!" he called and handed the folder to Harry.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

There was more silence while they worked, the shadows fading as Mike placed more effort into ignoring them. He refused to be having hallucinations over a little threat.

His kneecap twitched as it felt the ghost of the gun again. He jumped at the memory.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked him.

"I'm fine!" Mike snapped. He was really trying to convince himself more than Harry, but he realized it had still sounded rude. "Sorry, I'm just…tired."

"Me too. It feels like we've been doing this forever, but it's only been about an hour and a half." Harry sounded suspicious, but he'd dropped the subject it seemed.

Mike nodded in reply, rubbing the stiffness out of his neck with one hand, the other tightened on his knee where the shadow had touched him.

"And you're still about five stacks ahead of me," Harry whined.

Mike couldn't help the laugh that escaped at the sound Harry made. It sounded miserable and it made Mike feel more confident.

"Man, I could really use some more caffeine," Harry added. He made to stand, but Mike beat him to it. Maybe a walk would do him good.

"I'll get it."

"What about Kyle?"

Mike winced. He'd honestly forgotten the reason he'd agreed to help Harry in the first place. He wondered if Kyle was really searching for him, and while he didn't really want to find out, he decided it was worth the risk if he could conquer his problem.

"I'll take my chances," he said gravely.

Harry laughed. "Good luck, then!" He gave a mock salute.

"If I don't make it, tell Louis to suck it." Mike said and headed out of the copy room. It was one of the less used ones, mainly because it was out of the way, and they often shoved the associates in it when they had cases like the Lyle-Carmichael one. So Mike had to walk nearly halfway around the building to get to the break room.

It was fortunately empty. He opened the fridge, searching for any leftover Red Bulls, but only found one marked Kyle on it in sharpie. So that's who was taking them! he thought angrily.

He rooted around the cupboards and grabbed the necessary items. He reached absentmindedly for the coffee pot only to find it was empty. Was it really so hard for people to make another pot?

Mike busied himself making another batch of coffee, and tried to ignore the way the room was darkening around him. He dug a spoon of coffee grinds into the filter and dropped the entire thing when a shadow rose from the dark blend.

He shut his eyes as tightly as he could and willed the visions to disappear.

But when he opened his eyes there were more of them, all deep silhouettes, grinning evilly and waving guns around as they neared him.

Mike backed into the fridge, clutching at its sides desperately. They were laughing at him, wicked and sharp and so real sounding.

"Go away!" he shouted angrily at them. "You're not real!"

"Scared?" one of the figures taunted, and Mike tried to not think about how its voice sounded uncannily like Harvey's.

He shook his head. "I'm just imagining you. You're not real; you're just a manifestation of my brain due to trauma."

"Is that so?" the figure grinned. It took a step towards him and the other shadows followed eagerly.

"Go away!" he shouted back at them. He repeated the phrase, hoping it would be effective. But they just drew closer.

"Please," he whispered, surprised to hear the word from his own lips. He sank pathetically down to the floor, hugging his knees and begging.

The shadow figures stopped and faded into the room, all except the taunting figure. It said nothing more as it peered down at him with its glowing eyes, only laughed and laughed, like it found Mike's state entertaining.

Mike blinked back the tears he felt and seemed to come back to his senses at the sound of the shadow's laughter. He stood angrily and glared down the figure. "Get out," he said, and this time it listened.

"You can't run forever," it whispered to him as it faded from sight.

Mike took a deep breath and decided he'd analyze his mental state and the implications of his visions later. He felt stiflingly warm, and in search of something to cool him down, he opened the never used freezer of the break room's fridge.

Mike stared at its unexpected contents—which had resurrected his amnesia-inducing headache from before—for a full minute before realizing exactly what he was looking at.

Inside the freezer was a very familiar box of aging files.

Okay, so be prepared for lots of little bits next. I'll try and get them all in one post, for flow, but I make no promises. We are getting so much closer to the ending, guys! Thanks for sticking around this long. It's been a wild ride (if not for you, then definitely for me...) and we're almost through. I am currently on page 94 in my word document (approx. 35,000 words...) I seriously did not anticipate how long this would actually be. So thanks, and please leave a review! I very much enjoy knowing that you all are out there and still reading! :) (Please inflate my ego...it's a little low right now).