"You alright..?"

"Yeah, fine – why?"

Mike just shrugged as Harvey slumped down onto the couch, resting his head back as he was joined by the pyjama clad poltergeist.

"You don't look great."

"Why don't you go to work at the crack of dawn each morning and see how revitalized you look."

"Touché."

With a small smirk of victory, Harvey reached up to loosen his tie, watching Mike as he looked at his hands in his lap, anxiously scratching and picking at the skin around his thumb. Switching on the television, Harvey suppressed a cough before catching Mike's eye for a second time.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Nothing, nothing…"

"And now that's out of the way, tell me the truth." Turning the volume down, Harvey gave him a pointed, expectant look. "Something's on your mind."

And he was right – even tired and work-weary, he was still sharp enough to see Mike wasn't himself. Not that he expected him to overlook the vacant tinge to his mood; he rarely missed things like that. But it wasn't everyday he actually asked about them. Scrubbing his fingertips through his hair, Mike simulated a heavy sigh.

"Trevor was here."

"What?" Harvey was now using what Mike affectionately called, the 'courtroom voice'. "He was at the house? When?"

"Earlier today…he knocked a couple of times, sat on the steps for a while."

"Is this the first time he's been here?"

After a pause, Mike shook his head.

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"Well it's not like you can do much about it. I mean, I don't know why he keeps coming by. It's not like you know each other. Besides…it's my shit, I'll deal with it."

"Mike, in case you hadn't noticed, not only can the general public not see or hear you, but also – this is my house now. And having some douche bag come by here when I'm not around makes 'your shit' my shit as well-" his sentence was cut off by a sudden coughing fit, though he forced himself to recover quickly and finish. "…I'll sort something. Don't worry about it."

It was conversations like this that Mike disliked in theory, but found he liked in practice. It was reassuring to hear someone like Harvey say things like that – someone with the confidence that they always had the upper hand, and if the odds ever slipped, that they'd be able to put things right quickly. He didn't know what Harvey intended to do about Trevor, but now he felt himself settling into an easy state of mind; that as of five minutes ago, everything would be okay.

Despite the coughing and the slightly pale look to him, Harvey continued to insist he was alright, and with a final, slightly irritated answer, Mike finally left him alone.

Harvey wasn't home early for several days after that, leaving Mike to his own devices until well into the small hours of the morning, where he'd come in generally looking worse and worse as time wore on. One night as he locked the front door behind him and went to dump his coat on the couch, Mike appeared on the last of the stairs, inspecting him with a look of concern, but the sort that he was expecting to have rebuffed. In his best southern accent, he piped up suddenly, lifting his head from where it'd been resting against the wall.

"I've been callin' and callin', wonderin' where you've been – you leave me here everyday, slavin' over a hot stove. The least you could do is pick up the dang phone an' tell me you ain't gonna be home"

Despite the pounding headache threatening to worsen at any moment, Harvey still found himself looking round at Mike slowly, almost in disbelief, though the completely earnest look on Mike's face all but forced him to let himself smile in amusement.

"Is it another woman, Harv? Don't lie to me now."

"You really need to work out a way to get out of the house"

"And you need a day off; you look like hell."

"Yeah? Well at least I'm consistent - I feel like death," after a pause, "…no offence."

"None taken. But I like to think I look a little healthier than you right now"

Rubbing a hand over his face, Harvey gave Mike another pointed look as he headed into the kitchen, ghost not far behind. Given the gaping, bloody wound in his belly, his comment may have sounded a little rich, but Harvey looked exhausted, pale…ill.

"Has Trevor been around?"

"No, not today – but seriously though, take a day off. Or three. The whole time I've known you you've never taken a break."

"Yeah, well, maybe because my job means-"

"Uurghh…yeah, yeah – your job's important. Harvey, I get it. But you're important too."

A slightly awkward moment later, and he added; "Your health, I mean. If you're sick, working's only gonna make it worse."

As it stood, his words were falling on deaf ears as the coffee maker clicked and hummed next to where Mike was sat – in his usual place on the countertop. For a few minutes he watched as Harvey pulled off his tie and foraged in the first aid box, eventually finding a packet of what could be assumed were aspirin, popping one out and swallowing it with a little water.

"Come on – take tomorrow off. Sleep in, relax. You're not Superman."

"I always fancied myself as more of a Batman kind of guy."

Mike just shrugged with a smirk, "Bruce Wayne gets sick."

"Maybe. But he doesn't just take a day off of fighting crime. It's just a cold, I'll be fine."

"If by 'a cold' you mean the black plague, then yes, you'd be right."

"Did I miss something? Did you turn into my mother overnight?"

"Not if you're really Batman – but look, if he chose to, there are other superheroes who could take the nightshift for once if he needed a break. Like…Green Arrow. Or Robin."

As the coffee machine clicked off and Harvey got up to make a cup, he just matched Mike's metaphor with a look of half-hearted weariness.

"Well, maybe unfortunately for me, I don't have a Robin yet. No one at the office would look that great in spandex…"

After a brief moment of consideration, and an even faster removal of the image of Louis in a morph suit from his mind, he continued.

"…None of the men, anyway."

With another look at Mike, who was now sat with arms out in an 'I'm right here' gesture, Harvey just raised brow.

"Expecting a hug?"

"You've got me."

"What?"

"I could be your Robin."

"Yeah, great – only one problem. Robin needs to be able to fly the nest...Batcave…whatever"

"Okay, well…honorary Robin, then. Look, you're missing the point – you need to take it easy or you're gonna crash out on the couch and wake up dead and then we'll both end up haunting this place. And trust me, if boredom drives me crazy, it'll definitely do something to you."

Frowning into his coffee, Harvey swallowed back the mouthful and gave Mike a narrow-eyed look.

"'Wake up dead'?"

"Yeah. That's the only way I can describe it. You just…wake up. Boom. Suddenly you're separate from your body and you're earning the nickname 'Harvey the surly ghost'."

"Very funny…"

For a little while, Mike thought that his efforts of persuasion had amounted to nothing. Harvey was stubborn as anything, and he had a feeling that he'd sooner put himself in the hospital than take a sick day. Harvey excused himself soon after that, ignoring Mike's reminder that he should eat something, leaving the ghost to stew in his own frustration for a while, though it wasn't for long.

It was only when 7am, then 8, then 9 and 10am passed that Mike realized that either Harvey had drastically overslept, or he'd actually taken his advice. When he came downstairs as the clock hit half past the hour, all he said in response to the triumphant smile on Mike's face was "Say nothing."

Now, to his credit, Harvey did try to spend his time working – and Mike did do his best to help, since spending his day off relaxing didn't seem to register as an option. But the words on the page just blurred together and concentrating was next to impossible.

Within the hour, the TV was on and the two of them had assumed their usual places on the couch. Occasionally Harvey would change the channel, or they'd talk over whatever was on screen. At one point, Mike was half way through speaking when he looked over, and realized Harvey had fallen asleep. With a small smile, he reached over and tugged the remote out from under the lawyer's hand, and turned the volume down a few notches. And for the next hour or so, Harvey managed to get a little rest – until a loud, brisk knock at the door woke him suddenly. It wasn't late in the day, and while it could have been anyone, as Harvey came to and took note of the look on Mike's face, he knew it wasn't just anyone, and remembered the words of reassurance he'd given to his housemate mere days before. Time to deal with their shit.