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Wide Awake
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A/N: Aw, jeez. I was blown away by the response to the last chapter. Everyone was so, so sweet. I was admittedly in one of those funny 'ugh' moods when I posted it, which I feel a little bad about. I honestly did not think anyone would want more (or that people actually read my author's notes).
Seriously, a huge thank-you to anyone who reviewed. Without you, this story would have easily been abandoned as an unsatisfying one-shot. Also, there is nothing I love more than knowing my fics are putting smiles on people's faces, so cheers for that. It just makes my day.
Disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me. I apologise in advance for any foul language.
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Mike won't stop wriggling.
Once more, the air is stagnant, a tentative quiet and dull heat filling the room, as everyone sneaks infrequent side-glances towards Harvey, who is still shaking as he tries - and fails - to process all that he's been told. It is sheer, dumb luck that he manages to get his breathing under control, or maybe it's all the past practise he's had trying to hold it together for Mike's sake.
Mike, who is not Mike. But rather, a stranger, a fraud, a man in the guise of his toddler.
Mike, who - any moment now - Harvey expects to clamber on his lap with a pensive, little frown and lightly poke his bellybutton to activate his 'Voice-Box,' because he can always tell when something's wrong and there's nothing he hates more than a sad Daddy who won't talk to him.
And right now, it's virtually impossible to reconcile this Mike with anyone other than his Mike, as he all but vibrates in his struggle to remain still, movements restless and distracting - light bounces on his seat and soft humming, swiftly followed by the occasional kick and lip chewing.
The actions are so much like his puppy, it hurts.
Without thinking, Harvey reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and fishes out a small, plastic truck, dropping it onto Mike's lap.
As the associate's head snaps up in bewilderment, he recalls where he is and who this is - who this isn't - and tenses, pulling back and protectively crossing his arms to keep from tousling the youngster's hair, or God forbid, cuddling him close in an embarrassing effort to repair the gaping chasm that rips open inside of him.
"Sorry, habit." His voice sounds weird - watery, unsure, nothing like him.
The lawyer awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. "He, uh, my Mike-he gets fidgety when he's bored," Harvey explains at their questioning stares, shoulders hunching a little defensively. "I carry those things everywhere. When you've got a kid with a relatively short attention span, you're constantly on the look out for new ways to keep them out of your hair. It's my job to entertain, you know?" It eats away at Harvey - how much he wants them to know. But how could they? All they know is Before and After. A broken man, in any case.
Harvey stares at the small, battered truck with the tiny scratches and pale, scuffed blue. Remembers the way his puppy steered the toy along his office floor for the first time, practising the sound effects Harvey had just taught him with clumsy lips and spewing droplets of spit. Brum brum. "Guess it's too ingrained."
In all the years she's known him, Donna has never seen her boss act like this.
Adam's apple bobbing as his gaze dulls, he looks… he looks achingly small. Harvey's actually carrying around a little kid's plaything as if it's normal - stored inside one of his sacred suits that he as good as worships, and he's not even preaching about contamination of image.
She realises with a start that this is what it looks like to see Harvey Specter's heart get broken.
"What else you got in there?" Louis wonders, leaning forward and craning his neck. This results in a sharp elbow in the ribs from Donna, who gives him a pointed look for his efforts. "What?" he hisses back. "I'm just asking."
This Harvey is as new to him as he is to her, and it's no surprise that everyone's curiosity is at an all-time high. But still.
Confronted with the image of a Harvey who unconsciously strokes his tie in what looks remarkably reminiscent of an attempt at self-comfort, it feels awfully like they're taking advantage of him.
But Harvey is a lawyer - he moulds and manipulates his persona to his will for a living. Give the people what they want, only what they expect of him. So it's really of no shock to Donna that the man who is barely keeping it together, smiles for the cameras. The show must go on.
He sighs, "Much as I cherish your harebrained attempts to shelter me, Donna - it's fine. I'm not going to burst into tears." Rolling his eyes, the senior partner points out, "There's no point skirting around the subject. We might as well get everything out in the open."
His statement is met with uncomfortable frowns, but no-one protests. Donna, herself, has to admit it's not a bad idea. Better to know where not to step, than accidentally stumble upon a landmine.
After a moment, Louis raises a brow and prompts, "Well?" The redhead suspects he's reached a point where he'll do anything just to fend off the oppressive silence, but Donna nudges him again just for the heck of it. "Ow," Louis complains, rubbing the spot where she'd rammed her elbow. She gives him a predatory smile and he stills.
Smirking at the exchange, Harvey tugs on his jacket, peering inside and taking inventory. "Okay, let's see what we've got here… I have tissues, band-aids, finger-puppets, stickers-" Seeing the redhead open her mouth, he clarifies, "My Mike's not a great believer in socks. Or shoes, for that matter, though he doesn't detest them quite so much. He gets a sticker every time he wears them without initiating a tantrum. I hang onto them because Mike assumed that without the power of the stickers, I had no authority to tell him to keep his socks and shoes on in public, and started slipping them off as soon as we left home. He thought he was being sneaky."
Despite herself, Donna just about liquefies internally, clasping her hands together and gushing, "Oh, my God. That is too cute."
"Yeah…he can be pretty adorable when he wants to be," Harvey agrees, smiling softly. The grip around his tie tightens. "Only downside is, my son has a very big heart and to my dismay, he insists on 'sharing' them with me. If I turn his offering down or peel the little buggers off prematurely, then it's guaranteed waterworks. Sweet as it is, you try explaining to clients why you've shown up at a meeting with an obnoxiously cheery bumble bee or monkey sticker declaring 'great job' or 'well done' plastered over your chest or, worse, face. It's always nice when my cunning attempts of positive reinforcement backfire on me."
"That… is the most amazing thing I've ever heard."
"Oh, that's not even the worst of it," he assures. "There's also the time I was dinning with a client and reached for a pen so that he could sign the new contract I'd drafted up, but accidentally pulled out a bright orange pipe-cleaner instead." Harvey grins, eyes sparkling at the memory. "He was not impressed."
"Why did you have a pipe-cleaner?" Louis questions, puzzled.
That seemed to be what Jessica - who by contrast did not appear the least bit amused - wanted to know, too.
"You can make just about anything with them," the senior partner replies as if the answer is stupidly simple. "Mike'll spend hours simply trying to twist one into the shape of a bird. He's…" Harvey hesitates, obviously not wanting to say anything unflattering about his son. "Well, he does his best. More often than not, though… I'm gifted with another snake called Arnie."
"And-and the puppets?" Rachel queries, lip quirked as she peeks at the toddler, who is presently glaring at Harvey for all he's worth and pouting rather adorably.
"Two, handmade pirates that Mike can amuse himself with whenever he doesn't have any of his toys and I'm too busy to play with him."
"This is gold," Donna squeals at the same time Mike grumbles, "This is so embarrassing."
"Look, this kind of stuff might seem peculiar to you, but I'm…I'm a dad," Harvey says modestly, giving a half-shrug. His eyes slide to Mike's face, then away again. "This is normal, everyday life for me. And these are necessities which generally tend to make my day ten times easier. I get that this has some kind of comedic value to you, but this is…" His features suddenly tighten. "This was real," he murmurs, and his voice is etched with so much despondency that there's not a heart in that conference room that doesn't constrict.
The guilt which swamps Mike then is insupportable. He can't bear to see that…that look in Harvey's eyes and know that he's the cause. That reticent, mournful look.
"What if-what if it is real?" Mike ponders. "What if this is only one side of the story?"
All of a sudden, he once again has the attention of every single person in the room.
Unnerved by the intensity of Harvey's gaze which quickly latches on him, he turns the toy in his hands, detecting a minuscule crack in the screen, and mumbles, "I, um, I have a theory."
"Do share," Jessica drawls, intrigued but guarded.
"Well…" He is painfully aware of the in his childish lilt of his voice, the chubby cheeks that squish his lips ever-so-slightly together, the innocent sweetness of his expression. It makes Mike feel exposed and painfully self-conscious. "The Harvey that we, uh, that we know would never have any need to own one of these, right?" He holds up the blue truck that he's been squeezing. "He wouldn't be caught dead with it. Which begs the question… how'd the hel-" he spies Harvey's expression and father or no, swiftly changes course, "heck did it get here?"
"That's…that's actually a fair point," Harvey remarks in surprise. They still can't really look at each other.
"I'm thinking…what if there's another me out there with another Harvey?" Mike speculates. "And we maybe got, I don't know…switched."
"…Switched?" Louis repeats with a doubtful smirk.
"I'm serious. Think about it. There could be another world or universe or something out there where everything that this Harvey remembers has in fact occurred. How else would he have acquired those memories when none of us have any of the same experiences? It had to have happened out there, somewhere. Implausible as it sounds, it's the only thing that makes sense."
"Mike, even if that were true," Rachel questions, "How would the two...the two worlds," she wrinkles her nose at the word, "have crossed over? It still doesn't explain how you miraculously turned into a toddler."
"This is all just conjuncture, so obviously I can't say for sure. I don't have an explanation for why or how this happened, but I think I might have some idea what happened." Stuffing several fingers into his mouth, he frowns and mulls it over.
Mike starts to speak again, but before he has the chance, Harvey automatically tugs his hand away and gently rebukes, "No fingers." Then they both realise at once what they've done, and the discomfited silence makes an unwelcome reappearance.
Cheeks faintly flushed, Mike carries on after a moment, his tiny hand clenching and oozing slobber, "Anyway, as I was, um, saying, if you can wrap your head around the potential for alternate realities or other selves, would it be that great of a leap to assume that while Harvey One and Two physically entered each other's realities, Mini-Mike and I maybe only swapped bodies?"
They don't immediately rule it out, which Mike takes to be a good sign.
Then, all of a sudden, Harvey pales. Eye widening, his tone is aghast as he further contemplates this scenario, "So, what you're suggesting is.." He swallows. "There might be another me out there who happens to be an arrogant asshole with a crusade against caring, with a grown associate who would almost certainly have the mentality of a two-year old, my two-year old, and would recognise him as his father?"
Mike bites his lip.
"Uh…" He glances back at the others, witnesses their identical grimaces. "Basically, yeah."
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Thank-you so much for reading.
I know there's not much Mike in this, but when I started writing, he just didn't seem to have anything to say.
