I should have guessed that the problems wouldn't revolve around Sherlock once I got out of the hospital.

Bayley and I, while still engaged, were suffering. There was no warmth like there was in the hospital. I now believed that it was because I was vulnerable and hurting, and that Bayley wanted to try and ease my nerves.

We didn't share a bed when we got to Dad and Mary's. We acknowledged each other's existence in the house, and when it came to wedding planning. But that was about it. Outside of that, it felt like me versus Bayley. Dad took Bayley's side, and Mary, shockingly, took mine. I thought she was doing so out of pity.

"Maybe we should call it off," I told Mary in the kitchen. Dad and Bayley weren't up yet. "It doesn't feel like things are getting better."

"Well, you haven't confronted each other since you got released from the hospital. You can't expect things to heal in silence. If you truly love each other, you'll man—and woman—up and sit and talk it through."

"I'm gonna feel so guilty if Dad has to waste his money on a wedding that won't happen."

"I've got faith in the both of you. It's not misplaced. Find a neutral location and talk it out."

I knew she was talking to me, but I didn't acknowledge her. I froze when I saw him beside her. Not again. Not now. Not again. My hands began to tremble against the table they sat on. His suit was dark and blood-spattered, and he had some dribbling down from his mouth.

I wanted to run out the room and vomit.

He waggled his fingers, smirking devilishly at me. Beside him, Mary looked at me funny.

"You alright, Rachel?" This time I heard her.

I swallowed, but the lump wasn't going down properly. "F-fine."

"It's okay to admit that you're not. With what you've gone through in the past few years, nobody blames you."

"I'm fine, Mary." My tone was clipped.

"Mm, if you were fine, then I wouldn't be here, kitten," the hallucination crooned.

I tugged on my hair. I want him to go away, but I can't shout that while Mary's in the room. She already knows I'm off. This will be the thing that ships me to an asylum, unlike the last time this happened.

"Either you miss me that much, to which I would be so flattered, or that unbearable guilt has a hold on your heart and won't let go. I'm betting on the latter."

"Are you sure?" Mary pressed cautiously, completely unaware of my episode.

"Yes," I said weakly.

"That was too quick of an answer," Moriarty sang. "Even she doesn't believe you."

"I need to leave." I jumped out of the kitchen, with Mary calling my name.

I bolted out of the door, but the air didn't help. I still saw him, everywhere I looked. He was there, in all of his bloody, criminally insane glory. I have no sanity left. It's official. I started hightailing it down the sidewalk, unsure of where I was going to go.

"No matter where you run, no matter how fast or how far, I'll still catch you, darling."

"Go away." I stopped abruptly, and I glared at the image at my side, who was smirking. I knew if I swung, I'd punch air. "I killed you, you died."

"Ah, ah, it's not wise to say such things in public. People are nosy nowadays." He sniffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You might've just leaked a damning secret of yours—the government could be listening right now."

"Stop it." I put my hands to my ears. I kept on running, hearing his laughter ringing in my skull. How do I make him leave? He's dead. I shot him in the heart, he wasn't wearing a vest. I don't understand...

I purposely got myself lost. I hid myself between two houses, huddling into a ball on the floor, crying. Everything was falling apart: my wedding, my engagement, and now, officially, my mind. I wiped my damp cheeks, but the tears kept on coming fresh.

"Now, now, there's no need for tears," he cooed. I pulled myself tighter into a ball, pushing my head into my knees. "Embrace the insanity, Rachel. Embrace it."

"I'll never embrace it," I snarled into my legs.

"So you'll run away from the truth? That you, Rachel Watson, killed me, Jim Moriarty? I hope you've got a strong set of legs on you, because you'll be putting some miles on them. I should congratulate you. You graduated, from that weak, ordinary girl, into a strong, reckless woman."

"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"Make me. I won't go away because you asked."

When I picked my head up, he was gone. I wasn't relieved, his presence still felt strong, under my skin. Make me. I won't go away because you asked. I got to my feet, shuffling out towards the street.

"That's my girl, join me in Hell," he hissed in my ear. "You and I both know you won't be going heavenward. Girls like you don't have a spot upstairs. You killed me, and Amanda."

"Mandy was not my fault, Bayley told me so."

"Bayley, the man you cheated on? The man who once worked for me?"

"Reluctantly, you forget that key factor."

"Regardless, I put the weapon in his hand. I gave him an order. He lied to you. And you believed him that you didn't kill your best friend?"

"I don't know why I thought for a minute I could trust that lie from you," I said coldly. I blatantly ignored the car horns loud in my ears.

"Because I broke you, kitten. I won. You thought you won, but, my dear, you lost. You lost your best friend, your fiancé, your father's trust, your sanity...I've got a few things extra on the list. You want to hear them?"

My focus was broken with a sharp tug on my arm. I was pulled back, out of the streets, and I hit a warm body. I started to pull away, frowning when I realized it was Bayley.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing out here, Rach?" he panicked.

"Go on, tell him," Moriarty told me. "See if he'll believe you."

"Taking a walk," I stammered.

Bayley's brows furrowed. "Let's get you back, yeah?"

"No, let me keep going. Please."

"What's going on with you?"

"I..." I looked around nervously, trying to find a way out.

"That's it, I'm taking you back, right now."

"No, let me go. Please." My chin wobbled.

"Why?"

"Do tell him," Moriarty persisted.

"I...I can't. He's..." I shook my head, feeling it start to pulse furiously.

"Okay, okay," Bayley said calmly. "Come with me, please."

It had to be because of my headache, because I allowed Bayley to escort me back to Dad and Mary's place.

* * *

"No more hospitals," I protested strongly.

"Rachel, something's up with you," said Dad. Mary was tending to Rosie, so Bayley and Dad were confronting me about my stunt earlier.

"You wouldn't understand." I avoided their eyes.

"Try me."

I closed my eyes and hung my head. "There's too much. Planning a wedding when there may not be one at all, having blood on my hands—"

"You forget willing yourself to get hit by a vehicle."

I scowled. "I was trying to forget it, thank you very much."

"What did he do to you, Rach?" asked Bayley. I cringed as he moved hair behind my ear. "What can we do to help?"

"Oh, so when I'm ill you want to be civil?" I picked my head up, glaring at my fiancé. "Stop treating me like I'm glass, Bayley!"

"Rachel, you nearly let yourself get hit in the street," Dad said, concerned. "This isn't you. What's wrong?"

I exhaled. "I wasn't kidding when I said it's too much. The reason why I left is because...Dad, remember that time when we thought Sherlock was dead, and how I swore to you I saw him at Baker Street?"

Dad looked pained at the mention. "Yes, I remember."

"Well...I had seen Moriarty then, too. I...saw him, earlier. That's why I ran out on Mary. He wouldn't stop talking."

"And you thought getting hit would stop it? Oh, Rachel..."

"I don't know if this is temporary or it's gonna keep happening." I put my head in my hands. "Point is, I want this to stop. I want things to be normal again."

"Love, I'm pretty sure your life was never normal when you bore the Watson bloodline," Bayley said softly. It was relieving to hear that pet name from his mouth, but a little angering at the same time. "What can we do to help?"

"I don't want medication."

"Even if it could help?"

"If I can't beat this without it, I'll give you permission to shove it down my throat."

Bayley looked at Dad, and Dad disappeared. Bayley rested a hand on my knee, leaning against me. "What we're doing is silly. Ignoring each other like we're petty children. I want nothing more than to marry you, Rachel. I want to stand by you in the good times, and the bad, like this. I want nothing more than to wake up every morning to you in the same bed as me, and go to bed with you at my side every night. I'm nowhere near forgiving you, but one day, I will. I'm just not ready yet. We will work through this, especially this, because you need someone now more than ever."

I sniffed. "If forgiveness is the only thing that's barring you from our wedding..."

Bayley frowned. "I'm not going over there."

"It may help my sanity, or it may not. I want you two to be on civil terms." I looked at him pleadingly. "If you're willing to talk to Sherlock like a normal human being, I'll...I'll get myself proper help."

It was needless to say he was shocked by the bargain. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." I nodded firmly. "I want to be sane by the time we hear the wedding bells, Bayley. I want to keep Sherlock in my life. I can see if I can use that pitch on Dad and see if he's willing to talk to Sherlock, too."

Bayley sighed. "You might have a harder time convincing him, love."

"Then I'll have to call on Mary as a lifeline."

**Dude, I ship Rariarty even when he's just in her head.**