Scottie never would have thought that her father´s death would garner so much attention. Her father had never been lonely, but his whole attentiveness had been on raising her, so any friends had only second priority. And yet, somehow the telephone wouldn't stop ringing with people she and her father once had known giving her their condolences.

She didn't even know how they got the news of her father´s dead. Scottie certainly hadn't told them, but she had a certain suspicion who it could have been. Her mother had never been one to keep anything to herself. And the worst part: Most of the people calling hadn't really known her father. They just called because it was polite and proper to express your condolences to the poor, grieving daughter, not matter if said daughter wanted to hear their empty words.

So Scottie feigned gratitude for every of those vultures, circling her and just waiting for the next juicy bit of gossip they could tell their friends in their coffee circles. But there came a moment when she just couldn't take any more 'I´m so sorry for your loss'. She knew very well what the death of her father meant, there was no need to spell it out for her every damn call.

Again her apartment felt like a prison. The underlying sense of home was still there, but she hadn't left the flat since yesterday evening and she just needed to go out. She needed to leave the whole grieving business behind and just breath in fresh air just to remember that she was still alive and that life continued on.

The piece of paper on her table caught her attention again. Scottie´s hand hovered over it as she decided if she should use it. Did she really want to call Mike, a complete stranger, just to talk? What if he didn't want to? And did she? Yet, Scottie felt like she would explode if she couldn't just speak to someone. As if the emotion with her needed to get out, lest she never would regain any semblance of peace in her heart.

And there really wasn't anyone else she could talk to? Because anyone she knew wouldn't hesitate to use her weakness against her. Maybe not Harvey, but Scottie didn't really want to talk to him after what had transpired between them. Her contemplations drove again home the point that her whole life only consisted of her job. Until now it had served her well, but now she recognised the inherent weakness of such an approach on life. When she needed it the most there was no one she could trust.

No one but a stranger who had seen her at her weakest moment and hadn't hesitated to help her. Scottie didn't really believe in fate or such nonsense, but what were the chances that she would meet Mike right at this moment and that he would decide to help her? One in a million? And should she really squander such a chance?

Decision made Scottie stood up and rummaged through the drawers of her dresser. She recalled that somewhere within its depths there must be an old mobile she had discarded long ago. Her hand grasped a brick-like form and she pulled out the old phone. Pushing the button the screen lit up and Scottie typed in her message.

Do you have time to talk? – Dana

Mike stood at the street corner where Dana had said they should meet.

To be honest, he hadn't really expected her to use his number. Dana had looked like someone who valued her independence and had cultivated an image of a strong woman who needed no one to help her. So he had doubted if she would ever need or want his help. But that doubt had been laid to rest now.

Not that Mike would judge her for it. He knew that he was strong and intelligent, yet even he would have shattered if there hadn't been his friends helping him through the hard times that came after his parent´s death. Needing help was nothing you should be ashamed of.

"Mike." He turned around and saw Dana standing there. She wore a white coat and black trousers with high-heels in the same colour. Her black hair hung loosely over her shoulder and had been tousled by the wind that periodically blew through the streets.

"You´re here," she added as if she hadn't really believed that he would come.

"I promised, didn't I," Mike said and smiled at her. Dana reciprocated the gesture, if a little bit timid. They walked along the street for a while without speaking.

"I feel so stupid for doing this," Dana confessed after a while as they waited at a red light. "You probably have better things to do than listening to the problems of a stranger."

"But you aren't a stranger, are you?" Mike replied. "After all this is already our second meeting. And do not all relationships start out that way? With two strangers meeting?" The light changed to green and they continued walking. "Besides, sometimes a stranger´s advice can give you a new perspective on your problems, a perspective people you know may not even mention in fear of upsetting you."

"You sound like you swallowed a guidebook," Dana mocked him, but there was no malice in her voice.

"I do read very much," was Mike´s answer. There had been a time when his grandmother hadn't been very well – psychological speaking – because everything around her became too much for her to handle. Mike had read every book that gave life advice in order to be able to help his grandmother. Most of it had been useless drivel that even he as thirteen-years-old could refute, but there were a few advices that had helped not only his grandmother but also himself. But with his eidetic memory he still remembered every single word.

"It´s just," Dana started and she seemed to struggle with what to say. "I don´t think that I can talk with anyone else about it. They wouldn't understand. They can´t."

"I just had to go out," she continued. "My apartment felt like it was suffocating me."

"I know that feeling," Mike replied. "It was the same when my parents died. It´s the grief that seems to encase everything; that seeps off every pore. I remember when I couldn't stand staying in our house because I felt like I could never be happy in there. Outside it was sunny, colourful and vibrant and every time I walked through the door I had the feeling as if everything suddenly became so muted – so supressed." Dana just nodded.

"Tell me the happiest memory you have of your father," Mike prompted suddenly.

"Why that?" Dana asked doubtfully.

"Because it helps," Mike replied. "At least it did for me. It distracted me from thinking about the fact that they were dead now." Dana was silent for a while.

"There is one thing," she said.

"It´s the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of my father," Scottie started to explain. "It´s not the happiest memory, but it´s the most prominent one." She didn't know why she had decided to follow Mike´s advice. Maybe it was because he looked at her so honest and open. When she looked into his blue eyes she saw no hidden agendas, no secret motives. He just looked at her like if he really wanted nothing more than to help her. And for Scottie, who lived in a world where nothing was given freely and everything had a hidden motive, it was something novel. It removed a pressure from her shoulders she didn't knew had laid atop her until now. Maybe she could let down her guard just a little bit.

Besides, what where the chances of someone out of her professional life and Mike ever meeting? There was no way that this would ever happen. No one would ever know what she told Mike.

"It was at the vacation home we always travelled to during the holydays," she continued. "It was a cabin near the Rocky Mountains with nothing but forest around it. I loved it there, because it was just nature; nothing artificial, nothing constructed. Everything was so untouched and pure.

And one holyday when we came back for our annual two-week-vacation there was the big anthill at the edge of the clearing where the cabin stood. I still remember how I wanted nothing more than to leave and never come back, because I was just so disgusted. But my father would have none of it and dragged me to the anthill. I cried because I didn't want to go where those abhorrent creatures were.

'Look,' my father said and he pointed at all those ants which were busy hauling dead animals and plants back to their hives. 'They clean up the forest. Imagine if there weren´t any ants around. There would be nobody to take care of the forest and everything would just rot and stink. Even if they are only small they have a very important duty.' And I remember how stupid I felt after that. I mean, I loved the forest and if the ants helped it staying healthy then why was I disgusted by them? For the rest of our stay there I brought then one slice of apple every day." Scottie smiled as she remembered that particular holiday and how sad she had been when the next year the anthill had vanished.

With every word Scottie spoke she felt lighter and slowly she started to realize that her father may have gone, but those happy memories would stay with her forever. And to tell the truth, in the end there hadn't been much left of the father Scottie had loved so much. For her it had been like slowly watching how her father vanishing bit by bit. Remembering those happy instances in her life allowed her to admit that she was somehow glad that her father no longer had to suffer. And maybe this confession would help her to come out stronger of this than she had been before.

"Your father sounded like a great man," Mike commented.

"He was," Scottie said. "Tell me about your parents." Mike indicated her to sit down on a bench they were currently passing by and he sat down beside her.

"My parents were somehow crazy…"

Mike started. "On weekends the first thing my mother would cook was breakfast, no matter what time we stood up. When we woke up at 6am we would eat breakfast and if we woke up at 3pm it would be breakfast as well.

And one week a month would be dedicated to another country. My mother would exclusively cook food of said country and my father would buy traditional wedding clothes and they would renew their marriage vows in our garden in the chosen country´s traditional ceremony. And I always had to research the country we chose and do a presentation about it." Mike smiled when he remembered all the crazy shenanigans he and his parents had come up in that particular week.

Their book shelves were filled with books about so many countries and civilisations and Mike had read them all. His favourite had been Ancient Egypt, because there had been so much to research, so much interesting food and the wedding ceremony had been so exotic with traditional Egypt clothing and their marriage vows that involved so many gods and rituals.

"Wow," Dana breathed out. "That sounds pretty awesome."

"It certainly was," Mike replied. "But I don't think what you do with the people you love matters, but simply that you do something. If there´s one thing that my parent´s death taught me, then that you should never take your time with them for granted."

"Amen to that," Dana exclaimed. For a while none of them said something, instead choosing to observe the people that were passing them by on the sidewalk. Each of them held a story of its own and Mike wondered if others would ever hear them.

"Did you at least have time to say goodbye to your father?" Mike asked. "I never had the chance to tell my parents." He swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. That was something Mike still regretted even today: That he never had had the chance to talk to his parents one last time, to tell them all those things that had hung unspoken between them, taken for granted but never spoken out loud.

And then all of a sudden his parents were dead and he couldn't tell his mother that he loved her new haircut or his father that his new bike he had bought for Mike was the most awesome thing ever. Little things that hadn't meant much then but became so much more when there was no one you could tell them to anymore.

"Yes, I had," Dana answered. "It wasn't as if everything happened suddenly. I had time to prepare myself – at least I thought I had, but you can never prepare for something like that, do you?" She scoffed. Mike didn't answer that question. There was no need for that. They both knew how ridiculous that notion was.

"Have you ever thought how likely it was that we two would meet?" Dana asked the next question. "I mean, what were the chances of that happening? That my father would die on this day? That I would leave my flat at the exact time I did, walking exactly where I would meet you? And what was the chance of you walking by those stairs in the exact moment I was sitting there?" Mike chuckled.

"I have long given up searching for answers to those particular questions," he answered truthfully. "I already underwent this whole process the first time something like this happened. You just have to swim with the flow."

"My colleague would have a fit," Dana mused. "He´s very keen on having control over everything. His whole reputation depends on it. I could just imagine how he would handle a situation riddled with so much happenstances." She snorted. "And he has ridiculous hair. Always slicked back. Like he emptied a whole bottle of gel over it every morning." Now Mike had to laugh as well.

"That sounds ridiculous," he said. "And pretty vain."

"Oh, he is," Scottie commented. "But he has the looks and intelligence to back it up…much to my dismay."

"If it wouldn't violate the girls' code, I´d ask you for his number." A short flash of panic washed over Dana´s face. "But I´m already seeing someone, so the point is pretty mood." He grinned at her and hesitantly she smiled back.

"Thank you, Mike," Dana said. "In the beginning I didn't really think that you were doing something meaningful with what you were doing, but now I recognize that it really helps me." She stood up from the bench. "But I shouldn't dally any longer, there´s still so much to organize." She struck out her hand. Standing up Mike took and shock it.

"You´re welcome," he said. "I hope we´ll see each other again. I find our talks very refreshing."

"Maybe," Dana answered and gave him one last smile before she turned around and walked in the direction where they had been coming from.

After Dana vanished around the corner, Mike sat down on the bench again and simply enjoyed the feeling of Manhattan at night. But this period of calmness shouldn't last long as his mobile began to ring after only five minutes.

"My associate is an idiot," was the first thing Harvey said after Mike took the call.

"Hello to you, too," Mike replied laughing. "And while I have never met your associate, I completely agree with your statement. Of course, compared to me, the majority of the population are idiots."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Harvey groaned and Mike imagined the man sitting in his condo – Harvey had described his place of living very thoroughly during their last time - with his tie loose, his jacket lying somewhere on the couch and a glass of scotch in his hand.

"What did he do?" Mike asked instead.

"I ordered him to search for precedents for my current case and the idiot, instead of doing it by himself, used an extern," Harvey compared. Mike winced in sympathy. Using externs was never a good idea. There were some good services, but most of them only researched superficial; after all it wasn't their case and they got paid no matter what.

"What happened?" Mike wanted to know.

"He gave them my office as delivery address," Harvey answered annoyed. "And now I can´t see my own desk because the whole damn room is filled with boxes full of files." Even though Mike had never seen Harvey´s office he could just imagine the other man´s face in that particular situation and he couldn't help but start laughing.

"Yeah, yeah," Harvey said dryly. "Revel in my misery."

"Aw, don´t be so dramatic," Mike cooed. "I´m sure the first thing you do tomorrow is to order the poor associate to carry every single box into the filing room that is the furthest away from your office."

"You already know me too well," Harvey laughed.

"I know exactly the right thing to cheer you up," Mike said.

"And what would that be?" Harvey demanded to know.

"The fact that in Freudian psychology the act of witnessing your parents having sex is called 'Urszenentrauma' and people who experience it are said to develop a talent for crime novel writing." A few beats of silence. Then:

"How the hell is that supposed to cheer me up?" Harvey exclaimed incredulously.

"I don't know," Mike answered truthfully. "It´s just that I read it today and I simply had to tell it to someone. Now you´ll never forget it."

"An idea. Resilient, highly contagious. Once an idea's taken hold in the brain it's almost impossible to eradicate. A person can cover it up, ignore it- but it stays there," Harvey quoted.

"Inception?" Mike replied, raising an eyebrow even though Harvey couldn't see it. "Fitting, I suppose."

"Hey, that movie was pure brilliance," Harvey defended himself. "I still don´t know if the last scene was real or just a dream."

"It´s the wedding ring, Harvey," Mike explained. "In every dream sequence he´s wearing it, in the last scene he isn´t. Therefore he isn´t dreaming."

"You just answered one of the questions that haunted me since I watched that movie," Harvey said. "How did you know that?"

"I´m a very observant person of keen intellect," Mike joked. "Or I simply googled it."

"You shouldn't have added the last one," Harvey advised him. "It leaves you bereft of any aura of mystery. But speaking of important questions: Do you have tomorrow evening free?" His last words took on a hopeful note.

"Yes, I have," Mike answered and a warm feeling coiled in his stomach.

"Great," Harvey replied. "I pick you up at your office."

"Alright," Mike said. "Then till tomorrow."

"See you," Harvey said and ended the phone call. Mike just sat there with a big grin on his face. Tomorrow would be great!

So, it isn´t much Marvey, but it´s a beginning. Next chapter they will have a date *swoons*

On a different and more serious note: I´ll be away over the weekend (family vacation) and afterwards I´m moving to another city, so I won´t continue the insane daily update shedule I somehow managed as university is staring as well.

How long do you want this fic to be, though? I could end it within the next three chapters or I could try to make it even longer. I have some ideas I could incorporate.