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"Blood loss," Harvey repeated. The doctor nodded.

"Yes. The worst seems to have come from one particular cut, which was far deeper than the others. The other cuts he made, however, were big contributors as well; they led to prolonged blood loss, which caused his confusion and eventual unconsciousness. He's lucky you found him when you did; he was already entering hypovolemic shock when he was brought in. If he had been left any longer, he'd have been in serious trouble."

Harvey clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay calm. Donna was on her way, not having even asked whether Harvey thought she should come or not before leaving the office as soon as he'd called. Although he hadn't wanted to upset her, he was glad she was coming. Her bedside manner was much better than his.

"He's not awake yet, but you can see him if you want," the doctor said. Harvey nodded his thanks and the man left, leaving Harvey alone outside Mike's room. The blinds were drawn, so Harvey couldn't see in; he paused for a moment, taking a breath, before passing the threshold and walking inside.

Mike was in a hospital gown, resting on his back beneath the thin, crisp hospital sheets. He was asleep with a heart monitor beeping loudly beside him, the cord running along the bed where it connected to his fingertip. His arms were covered with bandages, winding their way up until they disappeared beneath the gown's sleeves. Mike was asleep.

Harvey sat down on one of the plastic chairs, staring at Mike's sleeping form. Resting his forehead in his hand for a moment and closing his eyes, he let out a deep sigh. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

He had no idea what to do.

The first thing he became aware of was someone's hand touching his. It was soft and warm, holding his fingers with a gentle grip, but not too tight. Mike found himself enjoying the comfort it gave – it reminded him of his mother. Had she come back? Had she finally come back like he'd asked? Mike found himself wondering, found himself hoping – but when he opened his eyes he saw not his mother, but Donna. She was sitting beside his bed, clasping his hand in her own, her eyes staring off into the distance.

Mike stared at her for a long time, wondering vaguely why she was sitting there and not behind her desk by Harvey's office. He liked Donna, he thought to himself. She was like a big sister that he hadn't ever realised he'd wanted; she bugged him, harassed him, looked out for him – she was his friend.

But why was she here?

"…onna?" He finally managed to utter. He watched as Donna jumped, her eyes glancing around until they finally landed on him, widening when they did.

"Mike!" Donna let go of his hand for a moment, before quickly taking it again. "Oh Mike, we were so worried –."

"Wha –." Mike coughed. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"You're in the hospital, Mike. You've been here since yesterday evening."

Mike frowned. The hospital? But why –.

Suddenly the fog in his brain seemed to clear and he blinked, memories of the day before slowly trickling in. He'd been in his apartment, he'd been there all day – why was he there? Why wasn't he at work? – he'd been cutting, he remembered that much… but then why…?

Mike groaned, shutting his eyes and turning away from Donna, as he suddenly remembered that she knew. She knew about the cutting; that's why he hadn't gone to work. He hadn't wanted to face them, to face any of them, so he'd stayed home. He suddenly became aware that there was something on his arms, and he opened his eyes to see white bandages wrapped all the way around his wrists and up to his shoulders. When he moved he could also feel bandages along his thighs and abdomen. He glanced again to Donna, who was looking at him in undisguised concern, and he closed his eyes again, humiliation heating his neck.

"Mike? Honey?" He felt Donna's hand cup the side of his face, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. "What's the matter? What's wrong?" Humiliation dissipated, only to be replaced with guilt. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't have to worry about him; none of this was her fault, it was his – it was always his fault. He did this to himself, and any repercussions should be had by him and him only, not Donna, not Harvey –.

Mike stopped. He looked around.

Harvey. Where was Harvey? Why was he here with Donna and not –.

Mike stopped, suddenly realising that he hadn't even figured out yet why he was in the hospital. Looking back up at Donna, he gathered his words.

"Why am I in… in the hospital?" he asked, the words feeling like tar against his tongue. He immediately wished he hadn't asked, as Donna's smile disappeared.

"You… lost a lot of blood," she said carefully, her hand falling away from Mike's face. "You passed out, so we brought you here. The doctor says you're fine, though! You just have to… well… you can leave later tonight, if you're up to it."

Mike frowned; her story not making sense. "How did I… why did I lose blood?"

Mike watched as Donna bit her lip. "Harvey found–."

"What about me?"

Both Donna and Mike turned to see Harvey standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in his hands, looking at Mike in mild surprise. "Hey, so sleeping beauty is finally awake. If I had known all it would take was Donna's kiss, I would have left the room long ago."

Harvey set the coffees down on a table near the window, pausing for just the briefest moment before grabbing a chair and bringing it closer to Mike's bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting down. Mike didn't know what to say; he still didn't really know what was going on.

"I'm… I'm fine," he managed to say, not liking the looks that both Harvey and Donna were giving him. It was starting to come back to him, what had happened last night, and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. But it wasn't the walls of the room or even being in the hospital – it was Harvey and Donna's presence, it was their faces looking down at him like he was some kind of mental patient, like he was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off –.

"Mike?" Mike looked back up at Donna; he hadn't realised he'd looked away. "Is there anything we can get you? Juice, water?" Mike swallowed, then shook his head. Donna bit her lip, glancing back at Harvey, then stood to her feet. "I think I'll get you some water. I'll be back." She left the room.

Mike felt a stab of annoyance; he said he didn't want anything; why did she ask if she wasn't going to even give him a choice? There was a long pause until Harvey finally spoke.

"Now that Donna's not here, how are you really feeling?"

Mike turned back at him, trying to look like he wasn't upset. From the expression on Harvey's face, however, it wasn't working. "I'd like to go home," he said finally. Harvey frowned, and his eyes narrowed. Mike tensed, feeling the atmosphere in the room physically shift, as Harvey's previously caring attitude was suddenly replaced with unbridled anger.

"Do you know why you're in here?" he asked. Mike wanted to look away, but found he couldn't. He thought about the night before, but he only saw a few, scattered images. He'd been home all day after Harvey and Donna had… had found out, and he'd spent the day watching TV. He'd cut, he knew that, but he always did that, it was normal – especially after a night like the one before. He remembered talking to Donna, he thought it was on the phone – but then Harvey had shown up, and after that… after that…

He heard Harvey take a deep breath. "You really don't remember?" he asked. Mike shook his head.

"Not… really. Bits and pieces. Were you at my apartment?"

"Yes. You hadn't shown up at work, so I wanted to… make sure you were alright."

It was an uncommonly caring thing for Harvey to say, and Mike felt that he should make some sort of sarcastic remark about it, but found that he was just too tired. Instead, he found himself wondering why Harvey had been there. Surely there was a better reason than the one he'd given.

"Why did I…

"When we were talking at your door, you passed out. I called the ambulance and they took you here. They said you'd lost nearly a fifth of your blood supply and were nearing hypovolemic shock."

Mike looked at him, confused, still not understanding how he'd lost the blood in the first place. "Why –."

"Damn it Mike, you cut yourself so badly that you nearly killed yourself! Don't you get it?! If I hadn't shown up, you'd have –." Harvey broke off, standing to his feet and turning away as he tried to gather himself. Mike stared at him with wide eyes; no – had he… had he really? But he'd…

"But I only… I only did a bit, I didn't…" Mike trailed off, the words feeling heavy in his mouth; he had never spoken to someone about his cutting out loud before. In fact, he hadn't ever talked about it to anyone before.

"Yes, you did. You cut so much that you were losing blood all day; you basically just sat on your ass, bleeding out because you couldn't handle the fact that we'd found out! What the hell is wrong with you, Mike?! How could you possibly think that cutting that much was a good idea – much less cutting yourself at all! Did you even stop to think that –."

"Harvey, shut up."

Both Harvey and Mike turned to the doorway, where Donna stood holding a styrofoam cup of water. She was glaring at Harvey with a look that would scare any man, but Harvey wasn't having any of it.

"No, Donna, he needs hear the truth. He can't just go on doing this, he can't go on cutting himself, putting himself in the damn hospital, just because he thinks it's okay!"

"Harvey, why don't we talk outside?" Donna asked sternly.

"No. I'm done here." He picked up his jacket and walked towards the door, before abruptly stopping and turning on his heel back to Mike. "You know what? Fine. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. See if anyone gives a shit." He turned away angrily and disappeared through the door.

–

An hour later Donna walked into Mike's room, stopping short when she saw him not only sitting up, but fully dressed, just finishing buttoning up his shirt.
"Mike!" she exclaimed, dropping her bag from the hospital gift shop on the ground and rushing over to his side. Mike didn't look up as he pushed the last button through the hole of his shirt. "Mike, what are you doing? You're not supposed to be up yet, you have to lay back down –."

"You know, Donna, I'm a little tired of people telling me what to do." He tossed the sheets that were still covering his legs to the side, gripping the edge of the bed as he stood to his feet. Donna looked on in worry.

"Mike, I told you, don't listen to Harvey – he was upset, he's worried for you, he didn't mean to say those things –."

"Donna," said Mike, turning to face her. "There's a reason I never told anyone that I – what I do. There was a reason. And now here we are, you guys both know, and all you do is treat me like I'm a fragile doll that's about to break, or you yell at me and tell me it's my fault. And I'm not putting up with it anymore."

Mike grabbed his wallet off the table, sticking it into his pocket and grabbing a few other things before walking past Donna and towards the door. Donna turned, her eyes following him as he went.

"You're really going to leave? Just like that?"

Mike grabbed a few pieces of clothing off the bed that Donna had brought and stuffed them into a bag. "Yep."

"Does even a part of you think that maybe, just maybe, we're only trying to help?"

"You don't want to help me, Donna. You just want me to stopping cutting myself. And besides, in the end, it's none of your business."

"You're our friend, Mike – that makes it our business."

"No, it doesn't!" Mike turned, glaring at her. "If I want to cut myself, that's my business. If I want to break my own bones, that's my business. If I want to jump off a bridge, that's my business. Not yours, and certainly not Harvey's."

It was Donna's turn to glare. "You bet your ass it's our business, Michael Ross. Do you honestly not realise what you mean to us? To me? To Harvey? Do you honestly think that if something happened to you, we wouldn't be affected? That we'd just carry on going to work, acting like nothing had changed? Do you seriously think that?"

Mike clenched his teeth, but didn't answer.

Donna continued. "For God's sake, Mike – you're our brother! Harvey would do anything for you! I would do anything for you! Can't you see that?!"

"Then why does it matter if I cut, huh?! Why the hell does it matter? It doesn't affect you, it doesn't hurt you –."

"It matters because it means something is wrong. You may have forgotten what that is, but something happened, Mike, and for some reason you think that hurting yourself will make it better. You're right – it doesn't affect us. We don't physically hurt when you cut yourself; hell, we probably don't even know most of the time when you do it. But that doesn't make it right. That doesn't mean it doesn't matter. It just means you're damn good at hiding it."

Silence followed, and the two stared at each other for a long time before Mike turned away. Donna knew from the anger in his face and the redness around his eyes that he was still upset. Finally Mike grabbed the last of his things and started walking out the door.

"Are you going to come into work tomorrow?" Donna asked tersely.

"No."

"Will you be coming back to work, ever?"

Mike paused for only a moment, before continuing down the hallway, Donna just barely hearing his response as he went. "I don't know."

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