They stayed up for most of the night talking after that. Not about anything in particular – just odd thoughts and concerns. For the most part, Mike seemed more relaxed about the prospect of surgery the next day, and equally, Harvey was less worried about him. Of course, the hours spent alone waiting for him to be done in theatre would be torture, but he knew he had to keep it together. Mike would be fine. Mike would be fine; this quickly became his mantra as the hours lazily rolled by. Being careful of his left arm, Mike rolled onto his side, turning his back to Harvey but also allowing him to pull him a little closer under the covers. One arm remained pinned under his neck, the other wrapped protectively around his middle, fingers entwined with Mikes. For a while the traffic from the streets below served as the only narration to the scene, until finally, a quiet question broke the peace.
"What will happen if my memory doesn't come back?" Blearily opening his eyes, Harvey nuzzled the back of Mikes affectionately, if not tiredly.
"It will…you just have to be patient"
"Is that what you'll tell Jessica when she notices I'm not performing as well as usual? I mean, right now I remember…well, enough about the law to get by for a few weeks. But if it stays gone, we're screwed"
"Let me worry about that; you need to worry about getting back to one hundred per cent"
"If I'm not working like I used to, then I won't be at one hundred per cent…"
"We'll work something out. Just trust me, okay?" No argument followed – only a small, defeated nod. In all honesty, Mike was exhausted with the entire situation. He just wanted to know either way –whether he'd be going back to the office anytime soon or not. Maybe he'd be lucky – after all, it wasn't as though he couldn't remember anything. There just wouldn't be any more memorizing entire books in hours or defeating towers of boxes of files overnight. He would be okay…maybe. It was just not knowing that kept his mind from settling properly.
Eventually, the two of them fell into a heavy, fatigue-weighted sleep. Mike's remained dreamless, as his long hours of rest had been recently, while Harvey's were forgettable, as always. Over the next few hours, both moved very little, Harvey's arm acting as a secure anchor to keep Mike close. As a general rule, he wasn't overly fond of public displays of affection (of course, this rule had been broken once or three times) but as of late he'd found himself needing some kind of physical reassurance that Mike wasn't going anywhere if it could be helped, regardless of whether or not there were nurses doing rounds or the famed doctor was in to check everything was running smoothly. Harvey still didn't like him, though Mike didn't seem to have much of an issue with him. He'd described him as 'needing to work on his bedside manner, but a pretty good doctor.'
Harvey would have used the term 'arrogant jackass', but whatever worked best.
Another four hours passed before Harvey woke up, feeling cramped and sore, but a little more recharged than he had the previous day. Being careful not to wake Mike he got up, turning back to the bed when he saw its other occupant instinctively curling into the space Harvey had just been occupying. With a small smile, he checked the time – 8:15 – as he headed into the en suite, not bothering to lock the door as he stripped. There's few things a hot shower can't mute over for a while – standing under tides of water hot enough to flush the skin is enough to allow your mind to wander to other places. Or, gives you the time and space to think things through more clearly. In this instance, it was Harvey's chance to convince himself that, for once, he had to accept being completely out of control. In a few hours Mike would be in the hands of strangers, skin and skull being pulled away and an artery being fixed up. But while all that was happening would come the chances of infections, more seizures, bleeding into the brain, stroke…all worst case scenario, and yet all very possible, even if the chances were slim. It's been said so many times, written in books so much, but when it came to it Harvey didn't know what he'd do if he somehow lost Mike completely. They understood each other, and Mike was one of the very few that he let in. Mike wasn't run of the mill, and no one could or would ever replace him. Not in any future Harvey wanted a willing part in anyway. Suds and foam circled the drain as he stepped out, pulling a towel from the rack. A shower and shave improved his appearance, but his mood remained dark and laced with anxiety. Looking in the mirror, he all but grimaced at how much older he appeared to look – or rather, that he suddenly seemed to be looking his age. As he dressed and re-entered the room, he took his phone from the table, and headed out, pulling a fresh suit jacket on as the door shut behind him. For the most part his cases had been taken care of (a debt Jessica would surely keep note of, ready to pull out whenever he even thought of crossing a line) even still; Harvey knew that she'd want to be updated.
It was a crisp, cold morning, but the fresh air felt good against his skin and in his lungs as he made his way out of the hospital. Taking a seat on a bench across the street, he called Jessica – as always, she picked up her phone promptly, though even the usual silk-smooth tone of her voice couldn't hide the element of surprise (and a little concern) as she answered. Evidently, she wasn't expecting his call – not so early, anyway. As always, their conversation was short and sweet, but once he'd hung up, he did feel somewhat better. Now that he'd been reassured things were being taken care of back at the office, a small weight had been lifted for the time being. So, he sat, phone in hand as he watched people going about, some starting their day and others just finishing it, but all of them in the usual New York rush. Whenever he came out here he usually only stayed a few minutes, but this time he ended up sitting on that bench for nearly an hour. Just taking time to breathe, to think. The rest of the day until Mike was back in his room would be gridlocked with stress, so he intended to enjoy the calm before the storm as well as he could. It would be fine. Worrying wouldn't help anything or anyone. Mike would be fine. After another ten minutes or so he got to his feet, and made his way back inside. Taking the lift to the third floor, Harvey had barely stepped out of the doors when someone crashed into him, forcing both men back a few steps.
"Watch it" Harvey snapped, though the guy's hands were already coming up as he stumbled away.
"Sorry, man-" Eyes narrowing, Harvey looked from his own suit front to him as he turned away. He knew that voice from somewhere…
"Trevor..?" Without another word, the hooded man just picked up his pace until he was sprinting, his trainers squeaking against the floor. The sound echoed down the corridor even after he'd rounded a corner. On instinct, Harvey pursued him, though by the time he'd reached the stair well, his suspect was already on his way out of the fire exit, the door slamming open as he made his escape. This wasn't good. Harvey knew trouble followed Trevor like a bad omen, and the last thing he needed was another of his messes to clear up. Heading back down the hallway, his heart jumped in his throat and his steps slowed when he saw some nurses hurrying down in the same direction as him, footfalls almost in time with their pagers. One by one they disappeared through one of the doors towards the end of the corridor.
Mikes room.