A/N: Rewrote this chapter twice. Sorry for the delay. Two chapters left including this one. Possible epilogue if my beta can convince me. Thanks for always being awesome, everyone!

Chapter 11

"For the record," Harvey said, "I think this is a dumb idea."

Mike rolled his eyes. Harvey had said something of the kind a dozen times already on the drive over, during the meeting with Louis' man Sam, and the three hours they'd hung around the station waiting for something to happen. His protective attitude was a little pessimistic, and Mike was kind of hoping it would let up. So far no luck.

"You have a better idea of how to force a meeting?" Mike asked, looking out the window of the tiny break room and into the bull pen.

Somewhere in the city, cops were surrounding a hotel in Jersey City, in Hoboken and another group taking a similar building across the Hudson. None of the cops still at their desks seemed worried or bothered or like they even knew the bust was occurring, and maybe they didn't. Sam knew, and Sam's men, but perhaps none of the others had any idea. Mike doubted it. The Surries were a reoccurring issue, and cops gossiped about as much as hair dressers when it came to something this big.

Police raids always look so cool on TV. Very fast paced and heart pounding. But when you're sitting on the sidelines and just waiting, they're actually really boring.

Beside him, Harvey let out a gruff sigh. "I suppose not," he said. "But this could turn ugly in countless ways."

The Surries operated mostly out of Jersey City, but between everything Trevor had ever told him about the group and Louis' contact, Sam, they'd determined the group had a hang out on the New York side of the river as well, since there was quite a bit of chatter about them within Sam's jurisdiction. Mike told Sam he was pretty sure Lawrence Sr. lived in Manhattan, not in Jersey... just to keep away from the center of business. Trevor had mentioned that once, that Lawrence liked to keep a slight line between his business and pleasure.

The Hudson was a pretty good line.

"They're here," Dolan, a cop assigned to protect them, popped through the door to announce and then left again. Down the hall, a commotion rose up. Mike heard Larry's voice among the others, shouting louder than anyone else and throwing threats left and right. An older voice rose up, shouting back at him, but it didn't sound like an officer. There was no professionalism in the scolding.

Once the group was corralled into holding cells or interrogation rooms or wherever cops took people, the station returned to relative silence. Mike tapped his fingers on the paper coffee cup in his hands and stared intently out the window. All he could do was wait and see if Sam could arrange his meeting. Just waiting and watching one of the cops click a light up pen over and over in boredom or focus or whatever. It was a child's pen, the kind that had three settings – off, on, and blinking. When the cop finally leaned forward to scribble words down on his page, the pen kept blinking. Mike watched the light flicker.

Flicker blue. Flicker blue. Flicker blue.

Florescent blue lights that blinded him.

Mike closed his eyes and turned away from the window. His heart raced and he concentrated on controlling his breathing to calm it down. This was no time for flashbacks. They were bringing an end to this. No time for flashbacks of lights and cars and crushed bike wheels and –

Harvey's hand found his knee, startling him from the memories and causing his controlled breathing to catch in his throat. He'd been breathing too loudly. He recognized it in the silence that followed and raised his eyes to look at Harvey shyly.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" Harvey asked.

Mike gave a small smile. Harvey knew exactly for what, but Mike appreciated the pretense. The hand left his knee, which was a letdown, but at least the panic had stopped too. He looked out the window again, away from Harvey and not focusing on the lights. Harvey had been very supportive through this whole ordeal. He'd been very... accepting and even intimate.

When Mike had first woken up with his amnesia, he'd wondered why Harvey would do so much for him, why Harvey would hold his hand and sleep beside him to chase away the nightmares, why Harvey would wear lavender to come see him in the hospital, why his boss would even give a shit. Now with his memories back, he wondered even more about why. Harvey never much cared about showing emotion. Mike always had to force it out of him. But all of that worry, all of that care, all of that protectiveness came out of Harvey effortlessly.

Even now, when Mike glanced at him, he caught Harvey in the middle of watching Mike like he might break, and whether the broken one was Mike or Harvey, Mike didn't know. It was a serious look, strangely enough, but it was softened around the edges enough for Mike to tell. Harvey was thinking carefully about something, and that something involved Mike.

Mike had admitted his feelings, but Harvey didn't know that. Harvey hadn't known any of his feelings during any of this, and part of Mike wished he had but the logical part warned that it would have pushed Harvey away. He was glad that he'd been logical enough to keep his mouth shut even with amnesia. Harvey showing up and helping him out was more than Mike could have ever hoped for anyway... it said more about how close they were than anything else Harvey could have done. And if that's all Harvey could give, then Mike would accept it humbly and move on.

He didn't need any more... not once they caught Lawrence.

The door opened and Dolan reentered. He gave Mike a confused look, like he thought Mike had lost his mind somehow in the last ten minutes, and said, "Lawrence Senior is in interrogation room 2 and waiting for you. You ready?"

Mike took a deep breath and Harvey paused in standing. "Hey," Harvey said. "I said it was dumb, but so far so good, right? Come on. I'll be right there with you... along with him in handcuffs and cops right outside the door."

"Right." Mike nodded and pushed himself out of the chair. He spared one last glance at Harvey, watching him get up, before walking out of the room behind Dolan.

"Did a drug sweep like you suggested. They didn't find anything," Dolan said. He didn't seem pleased to be on bodyguard duty, but Mike didn't really give a shit if Dolan liked his job today.

"Good," Mike said, frowning. "I need Senior clean for this to work."

When they rounded the corner to the hall with the interrogation rooms, they could hear a guy shouting obscenities at the cops. And when Mike came into view of the group, the shouter turned out to be Larry Jr., fighting as three cops tried to lead him further along to his own room. He stopped when he saw Mike, confusion and then anger taking over his features.

"You fucker," he spat. "This is all you! This is ALL you! I'm gonna kill you! For real, this time!"

Dolan motioned to the room they needed and then trailed behind Mike by three feet. Mike felt better for having the cop so close. As Larry had hinted at that night, no lawyer would be able to stop this. Harvey couldn't stop a moving car or a bullet. Harvey didn't have a gun.

Lawrence Surry Sr. was sitting at the table, handcuffed, between two standing cops when they entered the room and was watching the door, listening to his son shout, with a bizarre sort of anger – almost like he was disappointed but more like he wished he could rip his own son's tongue out. He looked like an older Larry, but his hair was blonde – box and not natural, Mike thought, since Larry had raven hair – and receding on his tanned head.

"Lawrence Surry," Mike greeted, and the older man focused his attention on the young man in a suit before him.

"What the hell do you want, Suit?" Lawrence asked and spat to the side. "You ain't got no drugs on me, so you can skip the whole good cop, bad cop deal you plan on pullin with your partner there."

"Oh I know there are no drugs," Mike replied, and that wiped the smug look from the dealer's face. Mike slipped one hand into his pocket. "We're here because your son and some of your men are under arrest for breaking and entering, vandalism, and... oh yeah, attempted murder."

Now Lawrence looked really confused, and he shot a dangerous look at the door behind Mike, as though his glare would walk itself down the hall to get right in his son's face.

"God damn, son of a bitch, Larry," Lawrence snapped under his breath and then returned his attention to Mike. Mike knew Lawrence's son's shouts from when Mike first showed up were going through Lawrence's head. He knew the dealer was taking in Mike's exposed head wound. The pieces were falling together. "The fuck did he do?"

"Sounds like you haven't had a good heart to heart with your son in a while," Mike said. "I'll get to the point. I don't want to cause trouble with you. Honestly, I just want to make peace. Unfortunately, peace is hard to come by after a near death experience. So I want to make a deal instead."

"I thought you said you were getting to the point, boy." Lawrence sounded gruff, but he was so different than his son. Senior was a calm sort of danger, the kind you could reason with. Junior was chaotic. Mike smiled. Lawrence didn't want to drag this out either. He didn't want the spectacle.

Mike already felt victory and he hadn't even begun.

"Your son and the others involved in the beating and attempted murder of myself will be arrested and sentenced according to the full extent of the law," Mike began.

"You son of a bitch," Lawrence growled and jolted forward in his seat. The cops pulled him back, and Mike didn't let his rising heart rate show.

"I'm a lawyer. It's what I do," Mike said with a slightly apologetic tone. He heard Harvey try to hide a snicker behind him. "But on my end, since we didn't catch you with anything or doing anything illegal, I'll give you what your son wanted when he attacked me and started all of this."

He pulled the locket from his pocket and held it up for Lawrence to see. He'd removed the photo of his grandmother. He'd left the chain though. Lawrence looked it over suspiciously, but Mike saw the recognition.

"It was brought painfully to my attention that your daughter misplaced this. I assure you it is unchanged from how you lost it... except that I took the photo out. Sorry." Mike covered the locket with his hand so Lawrence would look at him instead. "The necklace for my peace and safety. Do we have a deal, Mr. Surry?"

Lawrence pressed his lips tightly together. His forehead reddened all the way past his receding hairline. His eyes darted around at the two way mirror, at the two cops beside him, at Harvey.

"I don't trust you," he said to Mike. "A man holding the leverage holds the power. You have my son. You have my men. You have my daughters locket. How do I know you won't harass me when this is over? How do I know you won't come at me for revenge?"

"I'm not that kind of man," Mike replied.

"We're all that kind of man, son," Lawrence said.

Mike pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Not all of us," he said. "I want this all behind me, but I need your help to do it. You're the head of the snake. If you tell your men to stop following me, stop shooting at me, stop coming after me, then we can both move on with our lives. Larry's going to prison for one thing or another, but you don't have to. Not for this."

When the older man still seemed hesitant, eyes boring into the table before him as he tried to think of a way out of his situation, Harvey took a step forward and cleared his throat. Mike and Lawrence both turned their attentions to him.

"I understand it's a very important family heirloom," Harvey spoke up. "I'd take the deal. Your son thought he'd killed someone and made no move to turn himself in. Didn't even tell his own father. In fact, he tried to ensure that person stayed dead. There's no way to save him from some jail time. But you can still walk away from this with more than you came in with." Mike smiled despite his best efforts. Harvey nodded in his direction. "Take the deal."

Finally Lawrence grunted and nodded, although his expression was anything but happy. "You give me the locket, boy, and I swear no Surry will touch you again... unless you come asking for it," he said. Mike nodded to one of the officers and they started to undo the handcuffs. "But I can't let you take my son." The officer stopped.

"What?" Mike asked, forehead knitting. His heart didn't know if it should speed up in fear or not. Lawrence basically just said they couldn't put Mike's almost-murderer away, but his tone didn't sound vengeful either.

"Take the others – Jones, Melvin, Franco. They're always the ones he takes with him. Take them all, but leave Junior with me. I promise it'll be worse than anything your little prisons can do to him." He smirked, and Mike's heart did jump then. "We're not in the business of murder, son... If you catch my meaning."

And Mike was pretty sure he did. Senior was going to teach Junior limits, teach him whatever code Surries were meant to follow... and Mike didn't want to know how. Trying to imagine it brought on panic and memories of his attack, and he knew instantly that Lawrence was right. Putting Larry in prison would be a kindness.

Mike glanced back at Harvey. It wasn't really Mike's call. Technically they couldn't arrest anyone not involved with Mike's case. Lawrence had unknowingly given up two of his men. Larry had been the instigator, the brains of the operation, but they also didn't actually have evidence against him. Jones would have Mike's blood all over his car. Mike could identify the other two, but except for Mike's word and Lawrence's list just now, they also had no evidence against them. That would be enough, though. Larry... unless they found the knife with Mike's DNA and Larry's fingerprints still on it, they had nothing... nothing except Mike's word that he'd been there. But they had Mike's word and Larry's threats in the hallway and Larry's record working for them.

"Accessory to Assault?" Mike asked. "We can request the shortest jail time, and he won't get slammed with the B&E or vandalism. Jones is the vandal, and I'm pretty sure Melvin did the B&E. So we could probably arrange for a year or two at most."

Lawrence frowned. He didn't like it. Mike saw it in his hunched shoulders. A year without his son... but he lived in a career field that often dealt with jail time. He must have expected this eventually. At least, Mike hoped so. After what felt like far too long, Lawrence let out a heavy breath.

"Deal. Now release me and give me back my daughter's necklace," he grunted. The handcuffs were removed and then Lawrence snatched the jewelry from Mike's open palm. "Now get out of my sight. I'm going home."

"As you wish, Mr. Surry," Mike said with a small smile and bow of his head. "Thank you. You have no idea how glad I am to have this ordeal over with."

"Yeah, yeah."

Harvey opened the door for them to leave and Mike noticed him staring back at Lawrence as he let Mike exit first. He wanted to make a comment about how Harvey shouldn't antagonize someone who just agreed to their terms, but he kept his mouth shut until the door was shut, they were out of the hallway, and headed for the door.

When he turned to look at Harvey, there was a strangely proud look on his face. Mike's face cracked into a grin as the stress of years dropped off his muscles. When he locked gaze with Harvey, he even laughed a little. Mike felt proud. More than that, he felt badass. He hadn't taken someone down with just a pen and paper, but he still felt as though he'd won a dangerous situation with only his wit.

The sun was bright in the strength of the day, but Mike turned his back on it in favor of looking at Harvey. "Not bad, right?" he asked, walking slowly so he wouldn't trip going backwards.

"Not bad at all," Harvey agreed. "I almost couldn't do better myself. Except that I'm me."

"Humble as always," Mike noted. "Guess I should be grateful. If you weren't you, I wouldn't be me, and then what would you do with yourself?"

"Devolve into a bitter misanthrope who never leaves his office and screens everything through Donna." Harvey shrugged. He was wearing his full three piece suit, as always, and Mike wanted to tease him about it, but he found himself admiring it more than questioning it.

"Harvey," he began, and he thought he might actually tell Harvey how he felt now that it was all over. The worst Harvey could do was fire him, cast him aside... but he'd been with Mike through all of this, kept Mike sane and safe. Mike had to believe Harvey would do better than banishing him. Their relationship had to mean more to Harvey than any normal work relationship.

He was watching Mike with that silly smug look on his face, as though he thought Mike's expression of his name had been a metaphorical wag of the finger. Mike's face went soft with his next smile. Harvey was such an idiot sometimes.

"Harvey-," he started again.

This time, Harvey's face went stone hard, and Mike's heart dropped into his stomach. Not because of Harvey's expression but because he heard the sound of someone running rapidly up behind him. That mixed with Harvey's rigid eyes had Mike spinning to see the problem, only to find the skinny black guy from the night of the attack almost upon him.

And then he was lunging for Mike, and Mike saw the knife, the same damn knife. He could still remember the feel of it in his shoulder. Then he felt Harvey's hands on his arms, spinning him out of the way and putting himself between Mike and the danger.

Harvey's arm went up, taking the cut, but the young Surry hadn't gone through the whole arc, realizing he would hit the wrong target. Harvey bit out a shout of pain and ripped his arm back reflexively.

"Police!" he shouted, and lashed out with his good arm to try and catch the kid with a boxing punch, but all he caught was the end of the attacker's ponytail.

The Surry tried to dodge around Harvey, his eyes on Mike, but Harvey matched him step for step. Mike saw the decision spark in the young man's eyes and he grit his teeth as the knife was raised up again, no hint of hesitation this time.

"No," Mike grunted and grabbed Harvey by the shoulder. He hauled Harvey backwards and then shoved him to the ground, following after him with his own momentum. Harvey's expression was so stunned it was almost funny.

A gun or two went off. Something heavy and hard collided with Mike's back, and he knew it was the kid – but not because he was attacking. It was him falling. People were shouting. Harvey was forcing his way up again, pushing Mike up onto his knees. He was shouting too.

"Do you have a God damn death wish, Mike?!" he asked. He was between Mike and the sun now, a shadow cast over his features.

"Maybe," Mike grunted. "But I couldn't let you get hit... again." He pressed his hand on the side of his head and winced. "Sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry? Mike-!" Harvey stopped talking, fists clenched and breathing deep. "Don't you get it?" Police were swarming now, Sam among them, to check the Surry. One of them was radioing for paramedics.

Gun shots. The blue light of the pen flashing in his memory. The knife sitting two feet to his left, shining in the sunlight. Mike closed his eyes to block it out. He saw Larry in the headlights. He saw the knife coming toward his shoulder. The clang of the metal bat on the asphalt. He heard the tires squeal before the car collided with him. No. No. No. Mike shook his head, covered his ears.

Harvey was still talking. ""I protect you, got it? Stop playing the God damned hero for two seconds."

"No," he panted. He felt dizzy. He was going to collapse despite already being so close to the ground. The asphalt of the parking lot. The burning scrapes along his side and back. The burning of the knife in his shoulder. "No," and now he was begging.

No it wasn't happening. It wasn't real. He was safe. The sun was out. Harvey... Harvey was right here. No. But when he tried to look at Harvey and console himself he saw the silhouette of a man, a man in front of a car's headlights. The light in a square on the underside of Jones' car as it rolled over his front bike wheel.

Someone was grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. His heart skipped so fast he felt like he was swaying, a piece of paper caught in a tornado. Pinned down to the ground, unable to crawl away, the hands on his mouth, the hands on his hand. He shook his head. His whole body was shaking. He shoved at the person touching him, eyes unable to see anything but the silhouettes coming at him, but the hands just went from his shoulders to his wrists.

"Where are your paramedics? Damn it!" Harvey yelled, but it was unnecessary. They were coming toward the scene already, their bright colored vests glinting in the sun.

"Paramedics," Mike murmured. It felt hard to breathe. The world was unsteady, moving under him, and he focused his gaze on the ground so he wouldn't get too dizzy. It was just like when they'd left the office and that guy had tried to shoot him. Last time Harvey had ushered him into a cab and taken him home, but they couldn't do that this time... could they? "Oh God."

"Mike." Harvey's hands gripped his wrists and then moved to his upper arms. He sounded like Trevor, standing on the edge of the scene. "Mike, focus. It's a panic attack. Breathe. You're alright."

"A-Alright?" Mike forced out a laugh. "I'm... I'm dying. I'm gonna die. Every time... Every damn time..." He felt nauseous. He hissed and bent over on the ground, grabbing at the hot gravel with one hand. The other went to his hip, pressing where he knew the other knife wound was. He told himself he wasn't bleeding, but his brain wasn't listening. "Oh God, not again."

"Damn straight, not again. I swear if you wake up as a head case again, I'll leave you in a nursing home. Do you understand me, Mike?" Harvey sounded so serious and angry, but it just made Mike want to laugh. And he did. And it hurt for some reason. He thought of his busted ribs, of the bat connecting with his stomach. Again. Again. He bit down on his bottom lip and groaned and was glad Harvey couldn't see his face anymore.

There was an officer kneeling by the black guy, putting pressure on his gunshot wound for a chance of him surviving to the hospital. Mike really hoped he survived. He really wanted this to be over, but he didn't want someone else to die for it.

The fear. The pain. The panic. He just wanted it to be over. He wanted to be able to breathe again. He wanted to be able to sleep again. He wanted his hair to grow back. He just wanted everything to go back to before... but the world simply refused to listen. Would this be his life now? Running from drug dealers he didn't even associate with? Panic attacks when he saw sharp knives and bright lights?

"I hate it," he growled. He would have been on his back by now, staring up at the bright sky, but Harvey's grip on him kept him from going anywhere. He panted. "I didn't... I didn't do anything."

"You were an idiot," Harvey scolded. "Maybe not the first time, but this time. Now don't talk. Just focus on breathing and... things that make you not panic."

Things that made him not panic? Mike smiled ruefully. Harvey made him not panic. Sleeping beside Harvey. Holding Harvey's hand. Harvey's hand on his shoulder or his knee or his arm or his back. Harvey nearby. These were things that stopped his panic. When his parents died, it had been blankets and tea and bedtime stories read to him by his grandmother, but now it just seemed to be Harvey.

"Harvey," he called, not sure where his boss was. Mike was focusing so hard on the bright pavement, the orange line of a parking space, not daring to look around. Everything reminded him of the attack, and he couldn't stop it. He just wanted to go home. No. Not home. He wanted to go to the guest room. He wanted to bury himself under the sheets and hide like he was ten years old again. He wanted to scream. He wanted to get away from here. He just had to get away.

The blood pumping through his ears, the dizziness in his head, the queasy feeling in his stomach. Mike opened his mouth to throw up but nothing came out, not even coughs. He wanted this to be over.

Waking up in the hospital wasn't so bad when you considered the good news – he wasn't injured and he hadn't lost his memory. He wasn't in pain, but there was an odd grogginess in his body. He felt as though... He frowned. There was a faint memory of some paramedics shooting him in the arm with something. He must have looked pretty bad if they thought they had to knock him out to get him off the ground.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Harvey greeted, and Mike was shocked that he was here already... or maybe it was 'still'. He didn't know what time it was, after all.

"Harvey," he grunted, mostly to prove he still knew who Harvey was. Harvey shrugged as though he hadn't been worried at all. The older lawyer's arm was in a loose sling, his shirt sleeve rolled up to expose a large bandage over where he'd been struck. His jacket lay discarded over the back of a chair. "What did I miss?"

"Biggest concerns first – that kid's gonna pull through. Lawrence Senior was alerted to what happened. I had a chat with him. He's going to let me prosecute Larry Junior into prison for the next five years at least if the judge is on my side, and not into a pretty prison either. There's a pretty good case for declaring Larry a danger to even other inmates. I'm positive I can get him solitary confinement. Lawrence also promised to continue holding up your bargain. You gave back the locket, so you two are solid. One of Larry's men in the hospital doesn't change that." Harvey pushed up from the chair he was sitting in and moved to the bed, standing just beside it.

"That's good." Mike's forehead creased together. "Wait. You're prosecuting?"

"You didn't think I'd let someone else take the case and ruin it, did you? Besides, Louis thought I was preparing to take a drug case anyway," Harvey explained, shrugging. "In other news, the on-site psychologist you were seeing for cognitive therapy? She's prescribing you pills to help with the PTSD. She said time should help you get over the majority of it... hopefully stop you from having heavy triggers, but the medication will help you in the time before that happens... or forever, if that's your case."

Mike slowly pushed himself up, partly because his arms felt like spaghetti, partially because he was nervous about what he was about to say. "Harvey... I appreciate everything you've done for me," he said. "But before we do anything else... I kinda have to tell you something. I was going to tell you earlier but the attack happened."

Harvey smirked and shook his head. Mike frowned, ready to tell him to stop being a jerk because this was important, this was how Mike felt, and it was going to change everything, but then Harvey spoke first.

"If you're in some kind of trouble, we can fix it," he said. "There's no safer place for you than here with me."

At first Mike was confused, staring up at Harvey as though the older man had told him he was amnesiac again. But then he got it.

"Are you... quoting a Nicholas Sparks movie at me?" he asked.

Harvey shrugged. "That's twice you've tried to die on me, Mike," he said. "I hope I'm not seeing a pattern, or I'll have to put it in your job performance assessment."

"But you're quoting romance movies to me?" Mike didn't understand. Harvey didn't do emotional. Harvey didn't... like Mike?

"Like we haven't done that before." Harvey scoffed and then sighed. "I feel like I should be quoting some evil villain and scolding you about how you walk into traps too easily and that I'm going to rip your head off or something stupidly cliché. You're a god damn idiot, trying to get yourself killed... again." Harvey had on the same expression he always got when he felt Mike hadn't done his job properly because he'd been distracted. It was angry and disappointed. "I don't know why you keep doing shit like this, Mike. Especially when I was right there. But what did you do? You threw me to the ground and scuffed up my slacks. You're gonna buy me some new ones and then you're going to write me a god damn apology, promising that next time you get into any trouble whatsoever, you pick up your damn phone, assuming you haven't lost it again, and call me like a smart person would. Understand?"

"Understood. But Harvey-," Mike tried again. He still needed to tell Harvey how he felt. This kind of loyalty felt warm in his chest, but it was outlined in an ice that wouldn't melt until Harvey let him confess.

"I always thought I did a pretty good job of looking out for you, despite your idiotic tendencies... until I was sitting in the hospital, staring at this half dead version of you and praying, literally praying, Mike, that you wouldn't be a statistic and die on me like that," Harvey explained. His forehead was creased, his eyes dark.

"I don't need protecting, Harvey," Mike said. His heart burned with joy at the thought of Harvey's protectiveness. But he was hesitant. Protectiveness was one thing but –

"Yeah you do, cause you're an idiot." Harvey touched his fingers to Mike's head wound, staring at it as though he expected it to randomly start bleeding again. Then he settled his serious gaze on Mike's eyes. "I want you to stay."

What was that? Mike swallowed heavily. "I-" His brain was getting in the way. "I don't know. I sort of have a thing planned next week."

"Oh?" Harvey asked, pulling his hand away. Mike shrugged.

"Yeah. I have to prick my finger on a sewing needle and fall into a coma," Mike said. He should be confessing now that Harvey was letting him get words out, but it was so much easier to tease.

"Is that right?" Harvey asked, a smile forming on his lips at the joke.

Mike nodded. "And only a kiss from someone I love will be able to wake me."

"Is this where I'm supposed to take the part of Prince Charming?" Harvey asked. A chuckle escaped him, and Mike's stomach burned with guilt. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes. "Or should I fetch Rachel? or Jenny? Donna?"

"This is where we start quoting every cliché from all the old movies," Mike corrected.

Harvey laughed louder and shook his head. "You're ridiculous," he said.

"You're an ass," Mike grunted.

"And you're an invalid, so lie down." Harvey pressed on Mike's shoulder, moving him back to lay down again. Mike grumbled his complaints but did as he was told. Harvey's face faded back to a frown. "So will you stay?" he asked. "I don't really feel comfortable leaving you to your own devices... especially not without your medication."

Mike let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I suppose so. Sleeping forever doesn't sound entirely pleasant. Besides, waking up next to you isn't half bad. Sometimes you don't entirely frighten me with your bed head."

"Oh, and now he gets lippy," Harvey teased. He was smiling again, though, and that made Mike happy. "Stay still. I'll get the doctor and we can see about getting you out of here. It's becoming entirely too familiar in here."

"You can say that again," Mike agreed and relaxed into his pillow. He watched Harvey turn and walk out of the room, not surprised at all that he was still wearing his stupid, attractive vest.

Mike reached up to graze his fingers over the scar on his shoulder. He had marks that weren't going to fade with time, and that was something new for him. Part of him wondered if he'd be able to sleep alone now that he remembered everything, now that he'd given the locket to Lawrence. Part of him wanted Harvey to not give him the chance to find out. But part of him also loved his dinky little apartment and didn't actually want to move in with Harvey yet... if Harvey even really meant that. Because Harvey couldn't really mean that.

Preview chapter 12:

Harvey's heart raced and he panted for breath. Mike's eyes were open and looking at him. He looked so dead, so unlike Mike. Harvey could only watch in terror.

"I'm not good at my own words!" he shouted back. Mike took a half step back. "You know what I tell people? I say 'You mean something to me.' but that sounds like I'm using them. It sounds like bullshit, and I'm trying to be real with you!"

He watched Mike's face grow tight with confusion and consideration and disbelief and so many emotions... none of them particularly good or in his favor.

"What was it about? Your nightmare."

He made a noncommittal noise and Mike scoffed beside him. That sort of hurt, but Mike had every reason to be unsurprised at Harvey's silence. Harvey had never been one for open emotion before. Why change now?

"So what? You're trying to tell me you love me?"