Harvey knew he should have seen it sooner. He should have known. He should have looked into it as soon as he had so much as an inkling that the possibility existed. But he hadn't.

"Harvey?" The concern in Mike's voice made him feel sick.

He knew that he had to tell him, that he had to tell him right then, that he had no right to stay silent. But he just couldn't. Part of his mind tried to convince himself that it was because he didn't want to hurt Mike, another that maybe, maybe he was wrong, but the truth was that he was simply too much of a coward to do it.

"Harvey? Are you okay?"

He knew he had to respond, had to tear himself away from the date burning into his retina.

"I'm fine, sorry," he managed at last, wondering if Mike could hear the guilt seeping into his voice. He looked up at his associate, forcing a smile.

"You're sure?" Mike asked with a frown. "You look quite pale…Maybe you caught a bug or something."

Harvey twisted away as Mike reached to feel his forehead. He knew his normal reaction would have been to snap at Mike that he was fine, whether it was true or not. He opened his mouth to do so but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

For an awkward moment he just sat there, leaned back on the couch, Mike's hand hovering where his forehead had been.

The frown on Mike's face deepened. "You're not biting my head off for trying this? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I…" Just looking at Mike made his stomach twist.

"I feel a bit nauseous," he admitted at last. It wasn't a lie, but it was so far from what he was supposed to say that it felt like one.

Mike stared at him. "Are you going to throw up in the next ten seconds? Because that's like the only reason I can imagine for you admitting to this…"

"Mike…" He didn't know what he wanted to say. He felt the words that needed to be said bubbling up but they got caught somewhere in the back of his throat.

Mike's slightly bemused face changed to concerned again and Harvey had to look away. Because he knew if Mike knew the truth it wouldn't be with concern that he would be looking at him.

"So, you're feeling sick?" Mike said softly, again reaching for Harvey's forehead. This time Harvey allowed it. "You don't seem to have a fever. Maybe it's something you ate?"

Harvey just managed to shrug. "Maybe. I'm sure it'll be fine after a bit of rest."

It wouldn't be, but he needed Mike to leave. He needed to think, to talk to Jessica…

"Okay," Mike said, clearly not sure what to do. "Sorry for bothering you… It's just that I needed to talk to someone…"

Harvey felt his stomach twist again, tasted the bile rising in his throat.

„Harvey? Are you -? Whoa!"

Mike flinched back as Harvey pinched over and got sick on the floor. "A bit more of a warning would have been nice…"

Harvey felt the couch giving in as Mike sat down next to him, reaching out to rub his back in silent support.

"I'm sorry," Harvey panted when he was done at last.

"It's fine," Mike assured.

It so isn't, Harvey thought but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Do you want me to take you to a doctor?" Mike offered.

Harvey shook his head. Just the thought of Mike taking care of him made him feel nauseous again.

"No, I'm fine. I just need some sleep…"

Mike gave a short nod and got to his feet. For a moment, Harvey hoped he was just going to leave but a few seconds later he returned with a glass of water and some kitchen roll.

"Don't," Harvey managed as he saw Mike bending down to clean. "I'll do it."

He took the kitchen roll from Mike and started to wipe the floor himself.

"Drink the water at least," Mike insisted handing him the glass. Harvey emptied it in eager gulps, but it didn't make him feel much better.

He knew he had to say something, to reassure Mike that he was fine because he couldn't even stand the thought of Mike worrying about him.

"It's best you go now," he managed at last, hoping the words wouldn't sound hurtful to Mike. "I need to sleep it off."

As if sleep would help. As if sleep would end this nightmare…

Mike hovered uncertainly. "Are you sure you don't need anything? Medicine? A doctor's opinion?"

Harvey shook his head and somehow managed to force a smile. "Just some rest."

Mike nodded but he still wouldn't go away. "Seriously, Mike, I'm fine."

Mike scoffed. "You're not. You just threw up and admitted to feeling unwell…" He hesitated. „You promise you'll call a doctor when you get worse? Or at least Donna?"

Harvey gave a tired nod.

"Okay, then…" Mike slowly walked towards the door.

"Wait," Harvey called, fumbling with his jacket.

"Here," he said handing Mike his credit card. "Make yourself a nice evening with Rachel."

Mike frowned at the card. "Are you sure you're not dying or something? Because you just gave me your credit card."

Harvey didn't reply. He would have luckily given Mike all his money if it had eased the guilt.

Mike was almost at the door when Harvey spoke up again.

"It wasn't your father's fault."

Mike hesitated a second before he turned. His expression was sad and the sight of it felt like a knife in Harvey's gut.

"Thank you, Harvey," Mike said quietly before he left.

The door had long closed when Harvey brought himself to finish the statement at last: "It's not his fault, because it's mine."