"How are you doing Mike?" Donna asked with a smile. Her hands were full with a bouquet of sunshine yellow flowers. She attempted to dissipate the awkward tension that had built up in the room, and walked closer to Mike's bed. Harvey followed.
"I'm okay," he said with a yawn. "Just tired…and a bit sore…but okay."
"Thank God," Donna breathed, setting the flowers down on the nightstand next to Mike's bed.
She beamed with relief at Mike's seemingly good health, but her smile was soured by the stony face that remained still behind her.
"Hey Harvey," Mike said hoarsely.
"Hey Mike," Harvey said, his features unreadable as guilt ate him from the inside out.
Trevor had removed his hand from Mike and taken a step back, putting his hands in his pocket. Harvey looked at him with a searingly distasteful gaze loaded with jealousy, but only Trevor noticed, and responded by moving his eyes back to Mike.
In the quiet space, Harvey played with his own hand, swiping his index finger over his thumb. He looked at Trevor then Donna and then spoke.
"Uh, would you guys mind giving me a minute with Mike?" he surveyed the room.
"Sure," Donna answered for herself and Trevor, who reluctantly nodded, smiled at Mike and walked towards the door with the fiery redhead.
As soon as the door swished shut, Harvey grabbed a green chair from the corner and pulled it up next to Mike's bedside. It made the most hideous noise as it squeaked in protest against the linoleum floor. He sat.
For once, the usually suave lawyer seemed tongue-tied and conflicted. His bottom lip became a prisoner of his top teeth as a nervous hand massaged the back of his neck. Finally he gave up his internal conflict and let his hands and lips sit still.
"What the fuck were you thinking…" he whispered, his gaze lost in the fabric of Mike's bed sheet.
"Excuse me?" Mike asked, not sure if he just hallucinated that.
"You could have died," Harvey spoke, the words bitter like acid on his atrophied tongue.
"You're mad at me?" Mike huffed a chuckle.
"Damn right I'm mad at you," Harvey gritted out, leaning forward. "You nearly died for me Mike… What would I have done if you had? How would I make it through every single day knowing that I was the reason you were murdered?" his voice began to falter.
Tears clawed at the back of his eyes, but Harvey refused to let them fall. His hands now gripped one another in his lap so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"It's always about you, isn't it," Mike replied. "How would you go on if I died? Sounds a little selfish doesn't it?"
Harvey's laser sharp gaze snapped up to meet Mike's, and for the first time, the young lawyer could see the insurmountable pain that resided behind those brown irises. He could see the unshed tears glisten beneath the harsh hospital lights.
"How could I live with myself?" Harvey choked. He shook his head and looked back down at the blanket. The tired hand that had rubbed his neck, unknotted itself from the left hand and had now moved on to massaging his jaw. He hadn't shaved in days and the faintest scratching sound could be heard in the quiet room as his smooth skin glided over the stubble.
"I've never been so scared in my entire life Mike."
"You? Scared?" Mike's face twisted into disbelief. "I don't believe it."
"Well, believe it," Harvey said, unwilling to let Mike lighten the moment. "When I saw you there on the floor, when I held you in my arms as you nearly bled to death…" he stopped, unable to continue on without compromising his emotional state. His head bowed.
"…doesn't matter Harvey," Mike said. "Because you're okay, and I'm okay and everything is going to be fine."
Silence engulfed the room once more as Harvey analyzed the ramifications of the week's events. He couldn't get (what could have been) Mike's last words out of his mind.
"Is it?"
Mike's features knitted in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Both men's heads turned as they heard footsteps approaching. Mike's door slid open and a nurse entered with a tray full of goodies. "So nice to see awake Mr. Ross," she said as she walked around to Mike's other bedside.
"'s good to be up," he replied, smiling at the familiar stranger.
Harvey wasn't sure if he should be angry or grateful that their conversation got cut off. He reclined in the uncomfortable plastic chair and watched as the nurse readied a shot.
Her slender fingers flicked at the side of the plastic cylinder and she looked over at their audience. "I'm sorry Mr…" "Specter," Harvey finished. "Mr. Specter…but these aren't exactly typical visiting hours.
He could take a hint.
Harvey's hands gripped his knees for a moment before he stood and pushed the chair back to it's original location.
"When can I come back?" he asked, turning around and shoving his hands in his pockets.
Everything about him - his posture, his messed up hair and unshaven face, his words layered with meaning that Mike couldn't discern - none of it seemed like Harvey. This person who sat at his bedside and nearly cried, did not seem like Harvey. And it scared Mike.
"You can come back at 9am Mr. Specter," she said perkily as she shoved the needle into Mike's arm.
He winced and scrunched his eyes together, but kept his bleary blue focus on Harvey.
"I'll see you at 9 then," Harvey said, turning to walk out of the room.
"Harvey…" Mike's voice pleaded.
The older lawyer turned and looked over his shoulder.
"Everything is going to be fine. I promise," he smiled. "I wouldn't have done anything differently."
"I know," Harvey nodded, "that's what troubles me." He pushed the door open.
Mike watched as his mentor's form disappeared from sight. Desperately, he wanted Harvey to come back. He longed for the brunette to sit next to him, to wrap his hand over his own, to fill the room with the rare but warm smile that Mike constantly worked to produce.
He didn't want to talk or analyze, he just wanted Harvey to come back, sit next to him, and be the guardian at his side as he fell asleep.