When she awakens the next morning, her vision is bleary and her heart is pounding rapidly. As she sits up and glances to her left, she sees her phone laying atop of Mike's pillow and quickly grabs it-scrolling through the missed calls, voice mails and text messages she has received. Most of them were from Mike himself, but a few were from Monica and Rachel, asking how she was feeling. She bypasses those and sends a quick text to her husband-letting him know not to worry, enjoy his show and that she was fine. She'd see him again in two days when he returned anyway.

God, she cannot believe three more days have gone by. She feels as if she's losing time-she's there, present but not really-at least her mind isn't. Her hands shake as she sets her phone aside and stands to her feet. If she keeps busy, maybe she'll start to feel better.

She knows it's a lost cause.

She tries anyway.


She's elbow-deep in ammonia, scrubbing her bathtub when she hears the doorbell. She leans up, freezes a moment and then slowly pushes herself to her feet. Her rapidly beating heart is echoing through her ears as she counts step after step to the entry-way of her apartment where the door is. She's about to say 'fuck it,' and turn back when the voice on the other side speaks out. "Phoebe, are you in there?" Monica.

Phoebe lets out a sigh of relief before tensing up again.

Shit. Monica.

She chews nervously on her bottom lip before reaching forward and undoing the chain and letting the door swing open. She plasters a fake smile on her face and Monica steps inside.

"I just stopped by to see how you were feeling. You haven't been at the coffee shop lately and no one's really seen you around." Monica notes, she too, equally as uncomfortable as the blond before her. Phoebe clears her throat awkwardly and nods her head once.

"Mmm, yeah-fine." She chokes out, turning away from the brunette and walking back towards the bathroom.

She hears shuffling behind her, and knows Monica is hot at her heels. Phoebe wants to turn back around and shout at her to leave but the words get stuck in her throat. When Phoebe leans back down to resume cleaning the bathtub, she catches Monica's face light up out of the corner of her eye. She cocks her head to the side and motions for Monica to help her out.

It takes no more then ten seconds for Monica to join her at her side. As Phoebe scrubs the tub mercilessly, Monica decides to make small talk. Phoebe hides her frown and replies with half-assed mumbles and nods, not really paying much attention to the words falling from one of her best friend's mouths. She's been on a cleaning binge for the past week, scrubbing down everything in the apartment she shares with her husband. She feels as if she doesn't, he will find out the truth-that she's dirty, used up and destroyed. She doesn't want that.

He can't know the truth.

He can never know the truth.

She pulls herself out of her head and goes back to scrubbing mercilessly at the white, porcelain tub.


A few hours after Monica leaves, Phoebe buries herself in the warmth and comfort of her bed. She hugs Mike's pillow to her chest and inhales deeply, a faint smile grazing her face. With exhaustion coursing through her bones, she closes her eyes and drifts off into a deep sleep.


It's a week later when Phoebe and Mike are headed to his parents house in the East Village. She clutches his hand tightly, dressed in a sky blue sweater and black dress pants as she tries to quell the nausea burning in her stomach. So much had happened the last time he had brought her here. Everything, or close to it, had gone wrong. She'd tried so hard to impress Mike's parents but it seemed the harder she had tried, the worse it had gotten. Now she was heading back there, a year after their wedding feeling just as nervous as she had the first time.

Mike looks over at her with a small, reassuring smile and clicks his tongue. "It'll be fine," He says. Phoebe snorts, rolling her eyes as she drops her head into his chest. He sighs, knowing there isn't much he can do in a way of comforting her, and strokes her hair gently until the car comes to a complete stop-the driver informing them that they had arrived. Phoebe lifts her head and looks at her husband, the two locking eyes and with a deep breath-opens the door and steps out. She stares up at the house in front of her, just as tall and large as she remembered. She bites down on her lip and as Mike grabs their luggage from the trunk-she clutches onto his arm tightly-visibly shaking. Her headache from earlier had gotten worse as the day went on and she could feel her vision start to swim. She clutches Mike's arm tighter.

The two walk inside.


They're here for a dinner party for Mike's sister, Spencer-whom Phoebe has grown to like. She's a young little thing, only twenty one and has been an elite, competitive gymnast since she was three. Her muscles are most evident in her arms and legs but she doesn't boast about her talent or her skills. She's quiet, reserved and Phoebe learns, is also studying to go to Columbia. According to Mike, as he and Phoebe are putting away their things in one of the many guest bedrooms, Spencer is a pre-med major and has been a paramedic since the age of eighteen with the help of her high school's 'essence' program. Basically, he had explained, that she would go to high school for a part of the day while taking classes at the college for the other half.

Phoebe was truly amazed at all the things the young girl had accomplished, she truly was incredible. Phoebe grinned as Spencer met Mike and Phoebe at the bottom of the stairs-jumping up to hug her brother and introduce herself to Phoebe whom she hadn't had the chance to meet yet. She found the girl to be rather amusing as well with her bright blue eyes and dark brown hair that flowed in soft curls down her back. She smiles at Phoebe and Phoebe smiles back, she and Mike finally stepping off the last step and heading with the young girl back towards the living room. As the three enter the room, Spencer is swept away by Mike's mother who is busy showing her off to all of their friends. Spencer looks less then thrilled.

Phoebe turns to Mike.

"Does your mom always do that to her?" Phoebe asks, motioning in the direction of the two women. Spencer is looking back at them longingly, with a glimpse of sorrow in her eyes. Mike nods his head at his wife before holding up a hand and rushing to his sister's aid, only to find himself swept up in the conversations buzzing around them as well. Phoebe sighs sadly, and shakes her head-deciding to escape the madness for awhile and head up to the guestroom. Her headache has become almost unbearable now and the food that she ate is not agreeing with her. As she stumbles through the door to the guest-room, ready to lay down on the bed when the food comes back up. Unable to move, she doubles over- vomiting violently onto the carpet not just once or twice, but several times until there's nothing left in her stomach but acid and blood. Her knees shake and give out and she can hear Mike calling her name, running over to her. She can't move, can't speak-her head aching so bad that she is seeing double of everything. She feels his arms around her waist, holding her to him as he calls out desperately for help.

She looks up at him through bleary eyes but before she can do so much as open her mouth, her eyes roll into the back of her head and all she sees is black.


She'd never been more embarrassed, she muses as she wakes up-her eyes trying desperately to adjust to the light above her. She groans, the beeping from the nearby machines ringing through her ears as she brings her arm up to her head-rubbing her temples. An IV line leads from the crease of her forearm down, and as she feels around she realizes there is a bandage covering her forehead. She can tell from the relief in Mike's face when he walks in the door and over to her, that something bad had to have happened. She's about to ask what, when he begins speaking-clearing up the confusion that engulfed her mind. "You had an ectopic pregnancy." He muses, taking her hand as he pulls up a chair to the bed.

"I was pregnant?" She chokes out, disbelief evident. "How? I would have known!"

"Phoebe," Mike says, calmly and gently rubbing her hand.

"No, Mike. No." She hisses firmly, shaking her head. "The doctors are wrong. If I was pregnant, I would know."

"Honey it was-"

"No!" She shouts angrily, ripping her hand from his grasp and holding it to her chest. "No." She whispers, albeit much calmer this time as hot tears threaten to fall. Mike frowns, biting down on his lip as he stands up from his chair and pushes it back-wincing at the screeching sound it makes.

"Monica and the gang are outside, as well as Spencer and my parents. They're all worried about you. I called the gang as soon as we got here."

"Oh yeah right-" Phoebe snorts, disbelief evident. "Like your parents really give a shit about me? Please Mike, I'm not stupid."

He throws his hands up in defense. "I never said you were."

Phoebe exhales through her nose, gritting her teeth as she clutches her hands together.

"Leave." She hisses darkly, her emotions running rampant. She was angry, hurt, upset, broken. She didn't know what to feel or when to feel it. It was all hitting her at once. Mike looks at her with shock written across his face, eyebrow arched in surprise.

"What?" He chokes out in disbelief.

"Leave. Get out." She repeats.

He shakes his head, sucks in a sharp breath and slowly turns-walking out of the room.

Phoebe watches as he leaves, a part of her wishing he would have protested before curling her body up and closing her eyes-finally letting the tears fall. She'd lost a baby she didn't even know she was carrying, she had a fight with her husband, she ruined her husband's childhood home-or at least one of the bedroom's in it and had never felt more embarrassed in her life. Well, that one was a lie but it was up there.

She cries harder and pulls the blankets tighter.

This is such a mess.


She's released from the hospital a week later, after many more tests and another fight with Mike. She never asks for the paternity of the child. She never wants to know but somewhere in the back off her mind, she knows it's not her husband's.

They're on their way back to Mike's parents house, neither of them speaking-the atmosphere notably tense. When they pull up to the house a second time, Phoebe's nerves are back in full force. Dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, one of Mike's, she follows Mike in through the front door. As he greets his parents and sister, Phoebe stands back-her heart thumping wildly. Her embarrassment from the last time she had been here, came back in full force. She gives a sheepish smile in the direction of Mike's parents and a small smile to Spencer-whom immediately smiles back. Following Mike up the stairs, she notices that they are now staying in a different room, with a carpet she hadn't puked on. She's not sure she wants to see the damage she did to the last one. As they quietly unpack their things, she turns towards Mike and frowns.

"I'm sorry," She chokes out behind tears. Mike looks at her, he too, frowning as he pulls her into a warm hug.

"I'm sorry too."

"I ruined your house, your parents must hate me!" She wails, clutching onto him tightly. "I killed our baby. I killed my baby."

Mike quickly pulls away, looking at her with disbelief.

"No, no-oh honey." Mike chokes out, saddened by the overwhelming guilt his wife was suddenly feeling. "None of this is your fault, alright? None of it. You didn't ruin the house, my parents don't hate you and you did not kill our baby. You could not have known anything was going to happen."

"But-but I-"

"No." Mike says, shaking his head. "But nothing. It's not your fault." Phoebe sniffles, nodding her head once-while Mike may have been right, it did nothing to ease the guilt she was feeling. She sighs sadly, burying her face into Mike's chest and inhaling deeply. He smiles weakly and wraps his arms around her again, holding tightly onto her.

There moment however, is cut short by a knock on the door. Mike gently helps his wife sit down on the edge of the bed before walking over to answer it. His mother is there, a smile on her face.

"I just wanted to see how you two were settling in."

"We're doing fine, although-" Mike says, lowering his voice so that his wife cannot hear him any longer. "Phoebe feels really guilty about what happened last time. I've tried telling her it was okay, but I think It may help a bit more if it comes from you."

Bitsy, while not entirely thrilled about what she has to do-nods to her son and walks into the room and over to the blonde. She can see Phoebe visibly shaking as she gets closer. She flashes the woman a small smile, just as she had given to her son earlier.

"How are you feeling dear?" She asks as she takes a seat beside the young woman. Phoebe slowly turns her head to look at her, cheeks reddened and chokes out a small 'fine.'

"Good." Bitsy chokes out. "I hope you know dear, that what happened is not your fault. Even though, you did manage to ruin a perfectly good carpet." She trails off still somewhat bitter, earning a rather annoyed look from his son. Phoebe sniffles again.

"Are you sure it's okay? I really am sorry."

"It's...quite alright dear. These things happen." Bitsy mumbles, before standing up and walking towards the door-ready to leave. She turns back to Mike and gives him a nod.

"Dinner will be ready shortly," She says, before exiting the room-closing the door behind her. Phoebe looks at her husband and rubs the back of her neck uncomfortably. He walks towards her, taking a seat beside her and pulling her into his arms.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just-" She stops, shaking her head.

"What?" Mike presses, rubbing his wife's back gently.

"It's nothing." Phoebe muses softly. "Just do me a favor?"

"Yeah, anything."

"Hold me."

So he does, he holds her tightly to his chest and prays that the next few days they're here things go smoothly.


He's not stupid, he knows that he cannot stay silent about this for much longer. He knows he has to bring up the burning questions that are rapidly bubbling to the surface-threatening to force themselves out. He also knows that he can't bring them up to her about it. So he doesn't. He instead, goes to his father. He's not quite sure why he chooses him, but he certainly can't bring it up to his mother or sister. He lets out a defeated sigh and runs his hand over his face. It's eight am and his wife is still fast asleep as he quietly tip toes out of the bedroom and down the stairs. His father is always up by six am, every morning. It's like a routine, his routine. Mike shuffles into the kitchen where he indeed, finds his father-sitting at the kitchen table drinking a hot cup of coffee and reading over the newspaper.

He clears his throat, shuffling awkwardly on his feet as he stands in the doorway.

"Morning son."

"Morning." Mike retorts, groggily. He wipes his eyes, shuffling over to take a seat across from his father at the table. "Can I ask you something?"

Theodore nods, setting the newspaper down and looking at his son intently. He can see the weariness in his features, the exhaustion he's feeling. Theodore frowns slightly.

"Of course."

"Hypothetically speaking of course, if anything were to happen to mom-say she were attacked or something-"

"Attacked? Attacked as in mugged?" Theodore asks, eyebrow arched-intrigue evident.

"Attacked as in raped." Mike quickly clarified, wincing at the bluntness of it.


"Look, as I was saying-had mom ever been attacked, and this is all still hypothetical-how long do you think it would take for her to tell you? I mean, would you confront her about it or let her come to you? What if she never does? Or what if you try to bring it up and she denies it? Or-"

"Son, son, calm down." Theodore chuckles lightly, placing a hand over his son's. He noted immediately how much he was shaking. "What's going on?"

Mike shakes his head, lowering his gaze as he blinks back tears. Theodore grips his son's hand tighter.

"Did something happen to Phoebe, Mike?"

"I don't know dad," Mike says, looking up at his father with sad eyes. "I really don't know."


Author's Note: So the link that I had at the end of the first chapter got deleted because fanfiction is a dick sickle. Regardless, it still stands-if anyone needs the name of the site, feel free to send me a message. Sorry about the delay, writer's block and way too many ideas circling all at once is making my head spin. Enjoy.