Fanfic: A Bullet Meant For Me
Title- A Bullet Meant For Me
Fandom- Suits
Ship- Harvey/Mike
Rating- PG-13
Genre- angst, hurt/comfort, slash
Warnings- graphic injuries, unbetaed
Wordcount- 6000
Disclaimer- I do not own Suits
Summary- Mike takes a bullet for Harvey.
A/N- written from a prompt here at suitsmeme: Mike takes a bullet for Harvey. Bonus points if the gun was fired while Harvey was ranting about Mike's uselessness. Bring on the angst galore, anons!
As they rode the elevator down, all Harvey could talk about was how Mike had missed something important in the briefs, something that would have made their case if they’d had it in time. But they hadn’t because Mike had missed it, and they’d encouraged their client to take a deal that was so much worse than what they could have gotten if they’d known what they knew now. They had gone back through every scrap of paper and found what they needed, but their client wasn’t confident in their ability to use it, and was considering taking the deal anyway.
It was Mike’s fault, Harvey kept saying. He should have been more attentive. He shouldn’t have been taking breaks to talk with other associates when he was supposed to be working. He should have done his job right, but he hadn’t. If Harvey’s client settled for what the opposition was offering because of Mike’s screw up, his reputation would be ruined, and Mike’s career would be over.
Mike wanted to curl into a ball as he listened to Harvey’s rant. He felt like he was growing smaller and smaller and would soon disappear altogether. Each insult was like a physical blow, hurting him, wounding him, and he couldn’t even speak in his own defense. Harvey was right, about everything. Mike hadn’t been as focused on work as he should have, and he’d let something slip by him. It could cost them their case, and cost Harvey his reputation. Mike idolized Harvey. He knew Harvey was the best. He didn’t want anyone to think that wasn’t true because of something Mike had done.
As the elevator stopped at the bottom floor and they walked towards the entrance of the building, Harvey continued to cut into Mike. Mike felt a little light-headed, as if the verbal cuts were actually causing him to lose blood. His mind focused only on a few words: useless, incompetent, liability, drop-out, disappointment.
Disappointment. Of all the things Harvey could throw at him, this hurt the worst. Mike knew Harvey didn’t realize the extent to which his words affected Mike, didn’t realize that his praise was more necessary than air, and his insults hurt worse than knives. He didn’t realize the single-minded devotion Mike had to him, that made him worry more about Harvey’s career than his own, made him desire Harvey’s happiness even more than his approval. Harvey didn’t realize how much his words hurt, but that was little consolation when Mike suspected Harvey wouldn’t have pulled punches even if he knew. Not with how mad he was now.
They stepped outside of the office onto the street, and Mike stood by his bike as Harvey continued to berate him. He let the words fall on him like blows, not putting up any defense or even trying to escape. If this made Harvey feel better, then Mike would take it.
From the corner of his eye Mike saw movement on the street, and instinctively his eyes darted over to see the black car moving slowly along the street. He started to look back at the ground, Harvey’s harsh words still beating him down, when his mind registered what else his eyes had seen: a man leaning out the window of the car, holding a gun.
Mike’s eyes flashed back to the car. His mind automatically drew the path the bullet would take, directly into the center of the pocket on the left side of Harvey’s suit. Before he even thought out the meaning of that, Mike’s body was moving. The distance was only a few feet, but the muzzle flashed as he ran, and he barely made it. Mike knew even as he felt the impact against the side of his chest that it had been the right choice. There was nothing else he could have done.
Mike felt the impact with the ground when he fell more than he felt the pain of the bullet. He heard, as though from a distance, the screeching of car tires and a woman’s scream. He tried to sit up, and put a hand to his side where he had felt the bullet strike him. He saw the blood stain the dark blue fabric of his jacket to black and flow between his fingers, bright crimson red. He pulled his hand away and looked down at the blood. That was when he first felt the pain.
It was white-hot, crippling, sharp but also pounding in his blood through every inch of his body. He couldn’t breathe; the vice of pain constricted his lungs, making it impossible. He felt his strength flow away like a blanket slipping from his shoulders, and he fell backwards against the ground. He struggled to breathe, desperation and terror overriding all other thoughts. Breathing was painful, but necessary. His lungs rattled, and he coughed, tasting hot metallic wetness in his mouth. Black spots began to dance at the edges of his vision. The last think Mike saw before it all faded into an agonizing blackness was Harvey’s face hovering over his, his expression panicked and his eyes wide with fear. Mike could hear Harvey’s voice calling his name even as he sank into darkness.
Harvey had not been aware of his surroundings. He had been so intent upon his tirade against Mike that he hadn’t even seen where the bullet came from. All he knew was at one second Mike was standing meekly before him, letting Harvey tear into him about a mistake that anyone could have made; and the next he was moving, and Harvey had the passing thought that Mike was trying to get away from him and was annoyed; and then the next second, Mike was lying on the ground in front of him, blood soaking through his shirt.
It took a moment to register what was going on, even as he heard car tires screech away and saw Mike struggling to sit up, putting a hand to his side and lifting it away covered in blood. Then Mike fell back against the sidewalk, and everything clicked into place so hard the world seemed to shift. Harvey was on his knees before the thought even registered. He leaned over Mike, calling his name as Mike’s eyes fluttered and closed. He pawed at the side of Mike’s jacket that was soaked with blood, not knowing what to do. He had to stop the bleeding. That meant putting pressure on it. Harvey pressed his hands against Mike’s side, feeling his stomach roll as the warm red wetness bubbled up against his hands, squirted through his fingers. It wasn’t working; the blood still came.
Harvey snatched his hands away and with shaking fingers quickly removed his jacket and folded it up, pressing it against Mike’s side. He held it there, watching the puddle of redness on the concrete that was slowly creeping towards where his knees rested, desperately willing it to stop growing. It seemed like an eternity that Harvey knelt beside Mike, holding his jacket against Mike’s side, watching as Mike’s breathing became more and more shallow and blood ran from the corner of his mouth, as the puddle of red slowly grew until it touched his knees, staining his suit a darker shade of black. But it could only have been a few minutes before the ambulance came, and the two men quickly lifted Mike from the ground and loaded him into the back of the ambulance.
It wasn’t until the doors of the ambulance closed, leaving Harvey still kneeling on the ground as a young officer stepped from a car to get his statement, that Harvey realized with a sickening shock that the bullet had been meant for him, and realized with an even worse shock that the last words he’d said to Mike, perhaps the last words he would ever say to Mike, had been in anger.
The next few hours were a blur of guilt for Harvey. Another ambulance came, and the EMTs checked him over and declared him to be in shock. The young officer asked questions gently and carefully, and Harvey mumbled what answers he could give, but his mind was not on what he was saying. All he could think of was what he’d been saying to Mike when… when it happened. Funny how he couldn’t even remember any of the exact words now. Funny how he’d known, even as he said them, that Mike had made an honest mistake that anyone, including Harvey, might have made, and that he was only laying into Mike to relieve his own stress over how the case was going. Did Mike know that he hadn’t meant any of it? Harvey wanted to think so, but he knew it was probably a lie. It was only for his own conscience that he wanted to believe that his associate who might be dying knew that Harvey hadn’t meant the horrible things he’d said to him just before he took the bullet meant for Harvey.
In the end it was Donna who came to the police station and found Harvey, still without his jacket, wearing the pants with Mike’s blood on the knees, the blood drying to flakes on his hands. It was Donna who brought him a change of clothes, forced him to get into them, and loaded him into a cab to take him back to her apartment. It wasn’t until he was safely in Donna’s apartment, having showered and changed into a set of borrowed sweat clothes, sitting on her couch with a mug of hot soup in his hands, that Harvey broke down.
“It was mine,” he said to Donna as tears finally began to roll down his cheeks. She looked over at him and patiently waited for him to explain. “It was supposed to be for me. The bullet. Mike threw himself in front of me. He-” Harvey broke off, unable to continue.
“I should be there,” Harvey said when he could speak again. He rose to his feet, suddenly overcome y guilt and full of restless energy. “I should be at the hospital. I should be waiting to hear how he is. I should be waiting for him to wake up.” Donna stood and put her hands on his shoulders, stopping him from crossing over to the door. Harvey looked down into her eyes, pleading with her even though he knew she could do nothing. “He has to wake up.”
“The doctors won’t be any better equipped to take care of him if you’re there than if you’re not,” Donna told him gently. “Right now you need to do what’s best for you, and stay here. Eat your soup and go to sleep.”
“I always think about what’s best for me,” Harvey replied, sinking back down onto the couch. “Always. Donna, I- Before he got shot, I was yelling at him. I knew it was an honest mistake, not even his fault, really, but I still yelled at him, because it made me feel better. And now because of that the last things I ever said to him might be… might be…” Harvey couldn’t finish the sentence. He shook his head. “It can’t be the last thing, it just can’t,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Sshhhh,” Donna whispered, soothing him gently. She sat on the couch next to him and pulled Harvey against her, letting him cry into her shirt. He cried until he was emotionally exhausted, until he felt tired and empty and like there was some gaping hole inside of him that had been eroded away by the tears. She brought him blankets and pillows, and pushed him back against the couch to sleep. Even though his guilt was unrelenting -would Mike ever again be able to sleep and wake up? Would he every lie in his own bed again?- exhaustion claimed him, and Harvey fell asleep quickly.
At first when Harvey woke it was with a sense of warm, sleep-fuzzed contentment. As he slowly drifted into consciousness, he wondered why his bed seemed so lumpy, and remembered that he had fallen asleep on Donna’s couch. He had fallen asleep on Donna’s couch after she brought him home with her from the police station, where he’d been brought after Mike had gotten shot, taking a bullet for Harvey, while Harvey had been too busy yelling at him to even notice the danger he’d been in.
Guilt weighed heavily in Harvey’s chest even as he opened his eyes and sat up, no longer feeling anything like contentment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get up off the couch. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be waking up this morning.
“Hey,” Donna’s gentle voice said, and he turned to look at her with dark, empty eyes. “It’s noon,” Donna said softly. Jessica knows. Come get some food.”
“Mike?” Harvey asked, his voice rough. His only thought was what had happened to Mike, if he was alright. Harvey wouldn’t be able to live with himself if…
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “No one’s contacted me. Get up, Harvey. Eat, and I’ll take you to your place to get some clothes so we can go to the hospital and see how he is.”
Harvey nodded jerkily, and pulled himself up from the couch. It took a great deal of strength not to fall back onto it. The only thing keeping him moving was the thought that Mike might be okay, had to be okay, and Harvey could go and see him.
Donna handed him a plate with a sandwich, and then together they took a cab to Harvey’s apartment so he could shower and dress in his own clothes. Everything he did seemed to be in a daze, as though his body was going through the motions while his mind was turned off, as if he were on autopilot. He felt that if he somehow stopped moving, let his body shut down even for a moment, he wouldn’t be able to start back up again.
Harvey called Ray, and he came immediately to pick Harvey and Donna up and take them to the hospital. The ride passed mostly in silence, Harvey staring out the window at the people walking and driving and even -it hurt most to see- biking down the streets, wondering at how the rest of the world seemed to be going about its business while Harvey’s had ground to a stop.
“It’s not your fault, Harvey,” Donna said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Of course it is,” Harvey replied. “He took a bullet meant for me.”
“It was his choice. Would you feel better if it had been you lying on the ground bleeding?”
Harvey considered that. He had been yelling at his associate, at Mike, at the one person he knew would always go out of his way to please him. He had said things he knew would hurt Mike, who idolized him and wanted his approval more desperately than air. And why? Because he was angry with the way their case was going, with the opposition, and himself, with the client who wanted to take the deal, and with Mike just a little, but mainly with the entire state of affairs that was well beyond Mike’s control? Because it made him feel better to vent, to lash out? If he would do that to a person who so clearly oved him, didn’t he deserve to get shot?
“Yes,” Harvey answered. “It should have been me.”
Donna’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward and slapped the side of his face, hard enough that it stung. Harvey stared at her, stunned. In the rearview mirror he could see Ray watching them apprehensively. Donna’s hand fell away, and Harvey reached up to touch his cheek, hardly believing that she’d slapped him.
“Don’t say that,” Donna said, he voice serious but wavering just a little. “Mike… Mike will need you right now. He’ll need you to be strong for him.”
There was nothing else she could have said to get through to Harvey, nothing else that would have dragged him from his guilt. He thought of what Mike must be going through, in pain, afraid, wondering if the person he’d risked his life for cared about him at all. Harvey vowed that he would never again let a day go by that he didn’t show Mike just how appreciated, cared for, even loved he was. He nodded to Donna and took a deep breath, turning his thoughts from guilt to what he could do for Mike, to prove that he cared.
Harvey and Donna were forced to sit in the waiting room for several minutes before they could ask the attendant at the front desk about Mike. Harvey was agitated. He couldn’t stand sitting still, and his leg bounced up and down as he tried to keep himself from getting up and pacing the length of the waiting room. Finally Donna reached over and grabbed his leg, her fingers digging into his knee. Harvey sighed and forced himself to stop fidgeting.
“He’s going to be alright,” Donna assured him, and Harvey nodded. He couldn’t not believe her.
Donna watched his face curiously for a few moments, and Harvey gazed back at her, wondering what she saw. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment, so if Donna could read him he would be impressed.
“Mike is special to you, isn’t he?” she said suddenly. “This isn’t all about guilt or it being your fault. You really do care about him.”
Harvey stared back at her. His instinctive response was of course, of course he cared about Mike. But when he thought about it, he was amazed by that. When had he started caring? It had happened so slowly, so gradually, that he hadn’t even noticed the change, but now that he was actually examining his feelings he realized that he did care. He cared a great deal. He cared so much it almost scared him, when he realized just how devastated he would be if Mike… If Mike was ever not by his side any more.
Mike was still in pain when he woke, but it was a dull pain, throbbing and floating through his entire body. His mind seemed muddled, like there was a dense fog around his thoughts. As he slowly began to connect the pieces, realizing where he was and what had happened, his first thought was of Harvey. He had thrown himself in front of Harvey to protect him, and he wanted to know if Harvey was okay. Mike could remember, vaguely, that just before he passed out Harvey had been leaning over him, looking terrified but uninjured, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief.
He opened his eyes with difficulty, staring up at the blank white ceiling. “Harvey…” he croaked, his voice rough. A woman in magenta scrubs hurried over to his side, and Mike’s eyes fell shut again. He forced them open, and she looked down at him with a smile.
“You scared us, kid,” she said gently. “You were pretty touch and go, for a while, but you pulled through. A real fighter, huh?”
“Is Harvey… here?” Mike managed to ask, his raw throat making it difficult to speak. He wondered if Harvey would be around. He hoped someone could at least assure him that Harvey hadn’t been hurt.
“Harvey?” the nurse asked.
“My… my boss,” Mike explained. “He was there when I got hurt. Can you just… just tell me if he’s okay?”
“There were no other patients admitted with you,” the nurse told him. Mike closed his eyes and sighed in relief.
“That’s good,” he murmured. As long as Harvey was okay, nothing else mattered.
“You should rest,” the nurse told him. “The morphine will make you groggy, so if you feel tired you shouldn’t try to stay awake.” Mike nodded, blinking sleepily. He wondered what Harvey was doing at that moment. He wondered if Harvey was at work, or if he’d taken the day off after what happened. He wondered if Harvey was waiting for some kind of phone call to find out what had happened to Mike, or maybe even calling the hospital to check on him. He liked to think that he was, but he didn’t quite believe it. As Mike drifted off to sleep once more, his mind was on one thing: so long as Harvey was safe and happy, what happened to Mike didn’t matter.
Finally Harvey and Donna were able to speak to the attendant at the front desk. They explained why they were there, and she gave them a room number. They arrived just as a nurse was leaving.
“We weren’t sure he would make it, for a while,” she explained, and Harvey felt sick at her words. “But he pulled through, and he should make a full recovery.” Harvey didn’t try to hide his sigh of relief, and Donna reached over to squeeze his hand. He felt almost light-headed with relief, but the realization of just how close he’d come to losing Mike made him feel nauseous.
“He’ll be in the hospital for about a week, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while after that,” the nurse said gravely. “One of his ribs is broken, and he punctured a lung. He’s in a great deal of pain right now, so we’ve got him on a pretty high dose of morphine.”
The reminder of what Mike had gone through, was still going through, for Harvey’s sake was another sharp knife of guilt. Donna must have seen that in Harvey’s face, for she quickly asked, “Has he woken up yet?”
“For a few seconds,” the nurse confirmed. “But he fell asleep immediately after. As I said, it’s a high dose of morphine. He won’t be aware of much for a while. He did ask for someone named Harvey, though.” She added it like an afterthought, but Harvey’s heart leapt at her words. That Mike would want to see him after what had happened -after what Harvey had done, and what he had let happen- was more than he had dared to hope for.
“I’m Harvey,” he said, and the nurse nodded.
“He wanted to know if you were alright. He said you were involved in the shooting, and was worried you’d been hurt too.” That Mike would still be worrying about Harvey even when he had come so close to dying was yet another stab of guilt. Though Harvey supposed it made sense that Mike would be worried, since protecting Harvey was the whole reason he’d gotten hurt.
“You can go in and see him,” the nurse said. “But don’t try to wake him up.” Harvey nodded earnestly, and glanced over at Donna. She laid a hand on his arm, urging him to go while she stayed behind.
Harvey slipped into Mike’s room as unobtrusively as possible. The room was all white, sterile, cold. It wasn’t appropriate to hold someone like Mike, who was so alive and vibrant. Though now he simply lay in the bed, tubes in one arm and wires to his chest to monitor his vitals. His face was pale, and he looked small and weak lying still in the large bed.
Harvey pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, gazing down at Mike’s impassive face. The only noise in the room was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and Mike’s soft, slightly labored breathing. Harvey reached out to brush Mike’s hair back from his face, and realized with a shock that his fingers were trembling. He stared at them, watching the slight tremor, then curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it to his side.
Mike’s stillness, something Harvey had never seen from him before, even when he fell asleep at his desk and twitched and shifted, was unnerving to Harvey. He watched Mike’s face for a spasm of pain, a flutter of eyelids, anything to make it seem like he was truly alive. He supposed the morphine must keep Mike so deeply under that he could barely move at all. He thought about what the nurse had said, that Mike was in a great deal of pain. He thought of the blood puddle on the concrete, and the flecks of brown-black dried blood on his hands after he was dragged to the police station for questioning. That pain, that bloodshed, had been meant for Harvey. Mike had known it, Mike had seen what was going to happen, and he prevented it by using his own body as a shield, even knowing the cost. Harvey didn’t know why he had done it, especially considering what Harvey ad been saying to him at the time. Mike didn’t owe Harvey his life. Harvey had never done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty from Mike.
Harvey had never done anything to deserve any of the regard Mike had for him. He didn’t deserve Mike’s adoration, his respect. He didn’t deserve Mike’s trust, his loyalty in the office. He knew Mike hung onto his every word of praise, but he didn’t know why. His praise wasn’t so important a thing that Mike should go to such lengths to obtain it. His spite wasn’t something that should have hurt Mike as much as he knew it could. Harvey shouldn’t have mattered to Mike as much as he did. He didn’t deserve it. He certainly didn’t deserve someone who was willing to lay down his life for him, especially with the treatment he received at Harvey’s hand.
Harvey looked down at Mike’s still face and sighed. He again lifted his trembling hand, this time to trace a finger down the side of Mike’s face. He wondered how he had ever ended up with someone who cared as much about him as Mike did. He wondered how he could ever begin to repay Mike for all he’d done, not just the day before, but every day since they met.
Harvey sighed and shook his head when Mike didn’t stir at Harvey’s touch. The stillness and quietness of the room were unnerving, especially considering Mike had never been associated with either. In an attempt to fill the silence, Harvey tried to speak. “Mike,” he said softly, but winced at how loud it sounded echoing in the room.
“Mike,” he repeated at a whisper. “It’s Harvey. I… I came to see you. The nurse said you’d asked for me. I’m here, so don’t worry about me. You just need to get better.” Harvey gently laid a hand over Mike’s where it rested on top of the blankets. “You have to get better, okay? I need someone to- to grab my coffee, and read through my briefs. I know I never tell you this, but I’ve gotten so used to all the things you do that I would never be able to function if you left. I really, really do need you.”
“But it’s not just that,” Harvey added, feeling obligated to say more even though he knew Mike couldn’t hear him. “You’ve become such a big part of my life, in so many ways. I know I’ll be going crazy when I go back to work while you’re still in the hospital. I’ll keep walking past your cubicle, and every time I see that you’re not there, I’ll feel like I can’t keep working. I can’t stop thinking about you. I worry, so much. Are you in pain? Are you scared? I… It’s not just professional worry about my associate, not common courtesy for another human being. I worry about you. I care about you. I never realized before how much it would hurt me if… if you suddenly weren’t there anymore. It happened so slowly, you becoming a part of my life, that I didn’t even realize until now how much you matter to me.”
“I… I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I know I threatened to fire you, but I never really would. I need you too much, and not just for work. I… I was angry then, not even with you, really, just angry. I said things because I was angry. I shouldn’t have. I’ll…,” Harvey broke of and sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I remember what you said, about hating my kind of person. I think you’re right. I hate my kind of person too. I don’t want to be the type of person who tries to tear others down just because he’s upset. That type of person… my type of person doesn’t deserve someone like you, someone who would risk his own life to save me. I really don’t… deserve you. I’ve never done anything to be worthy of all you do for me, and all your care for me.”
“But I’m trying, I swear it. And I’ll keep trying. I promise that I’ll never say anything for the sake of hurting you, or anyone, ever again. I promise that there will never again be a day that I don’t let you know how much I care about you. When… when I thought you might die, all I could think about was that the last thing I said to you was something angry. Something I didn’t even mean. I never want that to happen. I want you to wake up soon, so I can tell you I didn’t mean any of it. So I can tell you how much you matter to me, how much I care. So I can tell you that I love you.”
The last words spilled out without Harvey’s thinking, but even as they rolled off his tongue, he knew they were right. How else could he describe the feeling that his life wouldn’t be worth living without Mike, that he would rather die himself than see Mike go through this? It could only be love.
Mike must have been dreaming, because he could have sworn he heard Harvey’s voice. The nurse had told him that no one else had been brought in, and she hadn’t said anything about visitors, so Harvey couldn’t possibly be there. But even in a dream, his voice was soothing. Mike loved the way Harvey’s voice sounded in his ears, when he was pleased, when he was smug, even when he was angry, so long as the anger wasn’t directed towards Mike, which it too often was.
As Mike dreamt, the soft murmuring resolved itself into words. It took a moment before Mike’s drug-muddled brain could make sense of them, but once he could he knew it must have been a dream. Surely only in his dreams would Harvey admit to caring for Mike. Mike listened to the dream-Harvey speaking, apologizing for yelling at Mike, admitting to needing him, saying he didn’t deserve him. Saying he loved him. Even if it was a dream, Mike wanted to see Harvey’s face, wanted to ask him to say it again. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at the blank white ceiling. He could feel Harvey’s hand resting on his. It didn’t feel like a dream.
“Am I awake?” Mike asked out-loud, his voice slurred with sleep.
“Mike?” Harvey’s voice asked, nervous and worried and excited. Mike turned his head slowly to the side, and say Harvey sitting next to his bed. Mike thought to himself that the scene seemed surprisingly plausible; he would have expected a dream of Harvey professing his love to Mike to involve rainbows and glitter and mythical creatures. He almost giggled at the thought.
“How are you feeling?” Harvey asked gently, which seemed like a perfectly natural question to ask, nothing like the fantastic dialogue of a dream.
“Sore all over,” Mike said honestly. “Am I dreaming?”
Harvey looked at him sadly, his fingers stroking over the back of Mike’s hand. “Does it seem like a nightmare? Getting shot trying to save me after the things I said?”
“No,” Mike denied, surprised by Harvey’s words. They didn’t seem like something the Harvey he knew would say, but they also didn’t seem to fit with the idea of a beautiful dream of Harvey being in love with him. “I know that part was real. But you said you love me; I have to be dreaming.”
Harvey’s solemn expression shifted into a tender smile. “If you’re dreaming, so am I.” Mike blinked at him, the sentence to abstract for his drug-hazed brain to comprehend. Harvey took pity on him and rephrased. “It’s not a dream, Mike. This is real. I really love you.”
Mike opened and closed his mouth, trying to compose a response. Each thing he thought to say didn’t seem right. Finally he asked, “How long?”
“I don’t know,” Harvey admitted. “Maybe for a long time. It happened so slowly, me starting to care for you, that I didn’t even realize it until yesterday. I didn’t realize until I said it that I love you.” His expression turned nervous, and he pulled his hand reluctantly back from Mike’s. “You don’t have to do anything, though. I don’t expect you to return my feelings. I don’t want you to feel obligated-”
“No,” Mike said simply. Harvey nodded, his expression just a little hurt, though Mike couldn’t imagine why.
“I’ll respect that,” Harvey told him. Mike frowned, trying to figure out what Harvey was respecting. Then he realized that Harvey thought he was saying no to being in love with him, returning his feelings. Which was absolutely not true.
“No,” Mike repeated urgently. “No, I mean, I mean, no, not like that!” Harvey looked at him curiously, and Mike struggled to explain himself. “What I meant was, no to- to- to feeling obligated, or something. To you thinking that I don’t return your feelings. Because I do. So, I guess what I mean is, yes. Yes, I love you too.” Mike smiled hopefully, and watched Harvey’s eyes as he thought through what Mike had said.
“I don’t understand,” Harvey said.
“What’s not to understand? I said yes!” Mike wondered if the things that made sense to him, in his narcotics-fogged state, actually made no sense when spoken aloud.
“Why do you love someone like me? All I’ve ever done is been cruel to you.” Mike looked up at Harvey, at the earnestly confused, guilty expression on his face, and his heart ached for him. Mike reached for Harvey’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I can read people, too, Harvey,” Mike said. “I knew you cared. I always knew. You’ve cared from the moment you hired me; otherwise you would have chosen someone safer. I know that withholding praise is your way of pushing me to be better, to improve, for my sake as well as for the case. I know you get mad sometimes and take it out on people who don’t deserve it. Everyone does, sometimes. It’s human. And yeah, it hurts me, but mostly I just want to let it happen so that you’ll feel better afterwards. So don’t think you’re unworthy of being loved. And as for the bullet,” Mike forced a grin, trying to make lights of the situation. “I would have done that for anyone. I’m reckless like that.”
Harvey’s expression was strange, one Mike couldn’t quite read. The smile fell from Mike’s lips as he watched it, trying to figure out how Harvey would react. Then Harvey leaned down slowly until his face was inches away from Mike’s. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, as if he was afraid of being rejected.
Mike smiled. “Of course,” he said, the only response he could possibly give. Harvey closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Mike’s chastely, gently, softly, like he was afraid of breaking Mike. Then he pulled away and put his fingers to his lips like he couldn’t believe it had happened. Mike grinned.
“I really love you,” Mike said. Harvey’s stunned expression turned into a tender smile.
“I really love you, too,” he said.
Mike gave Harvey’s hand a squeeze. “Promise I’m not dreaming?” Mike asked. Harvey squeezed his hand in return and nodded. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” Mike asked. Harvey nodded again.
“For as long as you want me to be.” Mike grinned sleepily, feeling the drugs start to pull him back into darkness once more.
“That’ll be forever,” he murmured just before his eyes fell shut and he slept, a contented smile on his lips.
Fandom- Suits
Ship- Harvey/Mike
Rating- PG-13
Genre- angst, hurt/comfort, slash
Warnings- graphic injuries, unbetaed
Wordcount- 6000
Disclaimer- I do not own Suits
Summary- Mike takes a bullet for Harvey.
A/N- written from a prompt here at suitsmeme: Mike takes a bullet for Harvey. Bonus points if the gun was fired while Harvey was ranting about Mike's uselessness. Bring on the angst galore, anons!
As they rode the elevator down, all Harvey could talk about was how Mike had missed something important in the briefs, something that would have made their case if they’d had it in time. But they hadn’t because Mike had missed it, and they’d encouraged their client to take a deal that was so much worse than what they could have gotten if they’d known what they knew now. They had gone back through every scrap of paper and found what they needed, but their client wasn’t confident in their ability to use it, and was considering taking the deal anyway.
It was Mike’s fault, Harvey kept saying. He should have been more attentive. He shouldn’t have been taking breaks to talk with other associates when he was supposed to be working. He should have done his job right, but he hadn’t. If Harvey’s client settled for what the opposition was offering because of Mike’s screw up, his reputation would be ruined, and Mike’s career would be over.
Mike wanted to curl into a ball as he listened to Harvey’s rant. He felt like he was growing smaller and smaller and would soon disappear altogether. Each insult was like a physical blow, hurting him, wounding him, and he couldn’t even speak in his own defense. Harvey was right, about everything. Mike hadn’t been as focused on work as he should have, and he’d let something slip by him. It could cost them their case, and cost Harvey his reputation. Mike idolized Harvey. He knew Harvey was the best. He didn’t want anyone to think that wasn’t true because of something Mike had done.
As the elevator stopped at the bottom floor and they walked towards the entrance of the building, Harvey continued to cut into Mike. Mike felt a little light-headed, as if the verbal cuts were actually causing him to lose blood. His mind focused only on a few words: useless, incompetent, liability, drop-out, disappointment.
Disappointment. Of all the things Harvey could throw at him, this hurt the worst. Mike knew Harvey didn’t realize the extent to which his words affected Mike, didn’t realize that his praise was more necessary than air, and his insults hurt worse than knives. He didn’t realize the single-minded devotion Mike had to him, that made him worry more about Harvey’s career than his own, made him desire Harvey’s happiness even more than his approval. Harvey didn’t realize how much his words hurt, but that was little consolation when Mike suspected Harvey wouldn’t have pulled punches even if he knew. Not with how mad he was now.
They stepped outside of the office onto the street, and Mike stood by his bike as Harvey continued to berate him. He let the words fall on him like blows, not putting up any defense or even trying to escape. If this made Harvey feel better, then Mike would take it.
From the corner of his eye Mike saw movement on the street, and instinctively his eyes darted over to see the black car moving slowly along the street. He started to look back at the ground, Harvey’s harsh words still beating him down, when his mind registered what else his eyes had seen: a man leaning out the window of the car, holding a gun.
Mike’s eyes flashed back to the car. His mind automatically drew the path the bullet would take, directly into the center of the pocket on the left side of Harvey’s suit. Before he even thought out the meaning of that, Mike’s body was moving. The distance was only a few feet, but the muzzle flashed as he ran, and he barely made it. Mike knew even as he felt the impact against the side of his chest that it had been the right choice. There was nothing else he could have done.
Mike felt the impact with the ground when he fell more than he felt the pain of the bullet. He heard, as though from a distance, the screeching of car tires and a woman’s scream. He tried to sit up, and put a hand to his side where he had felt the bullet strike him. He saw the blood stain the dark blue fabric of his jacket to black and flow between his fingers, bright crimson red. He pulled his hand away and looked down at the blood. That was when he first felt the pain.
It was white-hot, crippling, sharp but also pounding in his blood through every inch of his body. He couldn’t breathe; the vice of pain constricted his lungs, making it impossible. He felt his strength flow away like a blanket slipping from his shoulders, and he fell backwards against the ground. He struggled to breathe, desperation and terror overriding all other thoughts. Breathing was painful, but necessary. His lungs rattled, and he coughed, tasting hot metallic wetness in his mouth. Black spots began to dance at the edges of his vision. The last think Mike saw before it all faded into an agonizing blackness was Harvey’s face hovering over his, his expression panicked and his eyes wide with fear. Mike could hear Harvey’s voice calling his name even as he sank into darkness.
Harvey had not been aware of his surroundings. He had been so intent upon his tirade against Mike that he hadn’t even seen where the bullet came from. All he knew was at one second Mike was standing meekly before him, letting Harvey tear into him about a mistake that anyone could have made; and the next he was moving, and Harvey had the passing thought that Mike was trying to get away from him and was annoyed; and then the next second, Mike was lying on the ground in front of him, blood soaking through his shirt.
It took a moment to register what was going on, even as he heard car tires screech away and saw Mike struggling to sit up, putting a hand to his side and lifting it away covered in blood. Then Mike fell back against the sidewalk, and everything clicked into place so hard the world seemed to shift. Harvey was on his knees before the thought even registered. He leaned over Mike, calling his name as Mike’s eyes fluttered and closed. He pawed at the side of Mike’s jacket that was soaked with blood, not knowing what to do. He had to stop the bleeding. That meant putting pressure on it. Harvey pressed his hands against Mike’s side, feeling his stomach roll as the warm red wetness bubbled up against his hands, squirted through his fingers. It wasn’t working; the blood still came.
Harvey snatched his hands away and with shaking fingers quickly removed his jacket and folded it up, pressing it against Mike’s side. He held it there, watching the puddle of redness on the concrete that was slowly creeping towards where his knees rested, desperately willing it to stop growing. It seemed like an eternity that Harvey knelt beside Mike, holding his jacket against Mike’s side, watching as Mike’s breathing became more and more shallow and blood ran from the corner of his mouth, as the puddle of red slowly grew until it touched his knees, staining his suit a darker shade of black. But it could only have been a few minutes before the ambulance came, and the two men quickly lifted Mike from the ground and loaded him into the back of the ambulance.
It wasn’t until the doors of the ambulance closed, leaving Harvey still kneeling on the ground as a young officer stepped from a car to get his statement, that Harvey realized with a sickening shock that the bullet had been meant for him, and realized with an even worse shock that the last words he’d said to Mike, perhaps the last words he would ever say to Mike, had been in anger.
The next few hours were a blur of guilt for Harvey. Another ambulance came, and the EMTs checked him over and declared him to be in shock. The young officer asked questions gently and carefully, and Harvey mumbled what answers he could give, but his mind was not on what he was saying. All he could think of was what he’d been saying to Mike when… when it happened. Funny how he couldn’t even remember any of the exact words now. Funny how he’d known, even as he said them, that Mike had made an honest mistake that anyone, including Harvey, might have made, and that he was only laying into Mike to relieve his own stress over how the case was going. Did Mike know that he hadn’t meant any of it? Harvey wanted to think so, but he knew it was probably a lie. It was only for his own conscience that he wanted to believe that his associate who might be dying knew that Harvey hadn’t meant the horrible things he’d said to him just before he took the bullet meant for Harvey.
In the end it was Donna who came to the police station and found Harvey, still without his jacket, wearing the pants with Mike’s blood on the knees, the blood drying to flakes on his hands. It was Donna who brought him a change of clothes, forced him to get into them, and loaded him into a cab to take him back to her apartment. It wasn’t until he was safely in Donna’s apartment, having showered and changed into a set of borrowed sweat clothes, sitting on her couch with a mug of hot soup in his hands, that Harvey broke down.
“It was mine,” he said to Donna as tears finally began to roll down his cheeks. She looked over at him and patiently waited for him to explain. “It was supposed to be for me. The bullet. Mike threw himself in front of me. He-” Harvey broke off, unable to continue.
“I should be there,” Harvey said when he could speak again. He rose to his feet, suddenly overcome y guilt and full of restless energy. “I should be at the hospital. I should be waiting to hear how he is. I should be waiting for him to wake up.” Donna stood and put her hands on his shoulders, stopping him from crossing over to the door. Harvey looked down into her eyes, pleading with her even though he knew she could do nothing. “He has to wake up.”
“The doctors won’t be any better equipped to take care of him if you’re there than if you’re not,” Donna told him gently. “Right now you need to do what’s best for you, and stay here. Eat your soup and go to sleep.”
“I always think about what’s best for me,” Harvey replied, sinking back down onto the couch. “Always. Donna, I- Before he got shot, I was yelling at him. I knew it was an honest mistake, not even his fault, really, but I still yelled at him, because it made me feel better. And now because of that the last things I ever said to him might be… might be…” Harvey couldn’t finish the sentence. He shook his head. “It can’t be the last thing, it just can’t,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Sshhhh,” Donna whispered, soothing him gently. She sat on the couch next to him and pulled Harvey against her, letting him cry into her shirt. He cried until he was emotionally exhausted, until he felt tired and empty and like there was some gaping hole inside of him that had been eroded away by the tears. She brought him blankets and pillows, and pushed him back against the couch to sleep. Even though his guilt was unrelenting -would Mike ever again be able to sleep and wake up? Would he every lie in his own bed again?- exhaustion claimed him, and Harvey fell asleep quickly.
At first when Harvey woke it was with a sense of warm, sleep-fuzzed contentment. As he slowly drifted into consciousness, he wondered why his bed seemed so lumpy, and remembered that he had fallen asleep on Donna’s couch. He had fallen asleep on Donna’s couch after she brought him home with her from the police station, where he’d been brought after Mike had gotten shot, taking a bullet for Harvey, while Harvey had been too busy yelling at him to even notice the danger he’d been in.
Guilt weighed heavily in Harvey’s chest even as he opened his eyes and sat up, no longer feeling anything like contentment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get up off the couch. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be waking up this morning.
“Hey,” Donna’s gentle voice said, and he turned to look at her with dark, empty eyes. “It’s noon,” Donna said softly. Jessica knows. Come get some food.”
“Mike?” Harvey asked, his voice rough. His only thought was what had happened to Mike, if he was alright. Harvey wouldn’t be able to live with himself if…
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “No one’s contacted me. Get up, Harvey. Eat, and I’ll take you to your place to get some clothes so we can go to the hospital and see how he is.”
Harvey nodded jerkily, and pulled himself up from the couch. It took a great deal of strength not to fall back onto it. The only thing keeping him moving was the thought that Mike might be okay, had to be okay, and Harvey could go and see him.
Donna handed him a plate with a sandwich, and then together they took a cab to Harvey’s apartment so he could shower and dress in his own clothes. Everything he did seemed to be in a daze, as though his body was going through the motions while his mind was turned off, as if he were on autopilot. He felt that if he somehow stopped moving, let his body shut down even for a moment, he wouldn’t be able to start back up again.
Harvey called Ray, and he came immediately to pick Harvey and Donna up and take them to the hospital. The ride passed mostly in silence, Harvey staring out the window at the people walking and driving and even -it hurt most to see- biking down the streets, wondering at how the rest of the world seemed to be going about its business while Harvey’s had ground to a stop.
“It’s not your fault, Harvey,” Donna said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Of course it is,” Harvey replied. “He took a bullet meant for me.”
“It was his choice. Would you feel better if it had been you lying on the ground bleeding?”
Harvey considered that. He had been yelling at his associate, at Mike, at the one person he knew would always go out of his way to please him. He had said things he knew would hurt Mike, who idolized him and wanted his approval more desperately than air. And why? Because he was angry with the way their case was going, with the opposition, and himself, with the client who wanted to take the deal, and with Mike just a little, but mainly with the entire state of affairs that was well beyond Mike’s control? Because it made him feel better to vent, to lash out? If he would do that to a person who so clearly oved him, didn’t he deserve to get shot?
“Yes,” Harvey answered. “It should have been me.”
Donna’s eyes flashed, and she leaned forward and slapped the side of his face, hard enough that it stung. Harvey stared at her, stunned. In the rearview mirror he could see Ray watching them apprehensively. Donna’s hand fell away, and Harvey reached up to touch his cheek, hardly believing that she’d slapped him.
“Don’t say that,” Donna said, he voice serious but wavering just a little. “Mike… Mike will need you right now. He’ll need you to be strong for him.”
There was nothing else she could have said to get through to Harvey, nothing else that would have dragged him from his guilt. He thought of what Mike must be going through, in pain, afraid, wondering if the person he’d risked his life for cared about him at all. Harvey vowed that he would never again let a day go by that he didn’t show Mike just how appreciated, cared for, even loved he was. He nodded to Donna and took a deep breath, turning his thoughts from guilt to what he could do for Mike, to prove that he cared.
Harvey and Donna were forced to sit in the waiting room for several minutes before they could ask the attendant at the front desk about Mike. Harvey was agitated. He couldn’t stand sitting still, and his leg bounced up and down as he tried to keep himself from getting up and pacing the length of the waiting room. Finally Donna reached over and grabbed his leg, her fingers digging into his knee. Harvey sighed and forced himself to stop fidgeting.
“He’s going to be alright,” Donna assured him, and Harvey nodded. He couldn’t not believe her.
Donna watched his face curiously for a few moments, and Harvey gazed back at her, wondering what she saw. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment, so if Donna could read him he would be impressed.
“Mike is special to you, isn’t he?” she said suddenly. “This isn’t all about guilt or it being your fault. You really do care about him.”
Harvey stared back at her. His instinctive response was of course, of course he cared about Mike. But when he thought about it, he was amazed by that. When had he started caring? It had happened so slowly, so gradually, that he hadn’t even noticed the change, but now that he was actually examining his feelings he realized that he did care. He cared a great deal. He cared so much it almost scared him, when he realized just how devastated he would be if Mike… If Mike was ever not by his side any more.
Mike was still in pain when he woke, but it was a dull pain, throbbing and floating through his entire body. His mind seemed muddled, like there was a dense fog around his thoughts. As he slowly began to connect the pieces, realizing where he was and what had happened, his first thought was of Harvey. He had thrown himself in front of Harvey to protect him, and he wanted to know if Harvey was okay. Mike could remember, vaguely, that just before he passed out Harvey had been leaning over him, looking terrified but uninjured, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief.
He opened his eyes with difficulty, staring up at the blank white ceiling. “Harvey…” he croaked, his voice rough. A woman in magenta scrubs hurried over to his side, and Mike’s eyes fell shut again. He forced them open, and she looked down at him with a smile.
“You scared us, kid,” she said gently. “You were pretty touch and go, for a while, but you pulled through. A real fighter, huh?”
“Is Harvey… here?” Mike managed to ask, his raw throat making it difficult to speak. He wondered if Harvey would be around. He hoped someone could at least assure him that Harvey hadn’t been hurt.
“Harvey?” the nurse asked.
“My… my boss,” Mike explained. “He was there when I got hurt. Can you just… just tell me if he’s okay?”
“There were no other patients admitted with you,” the nurse told him. Mike closed his eyes and sighed in relief.
“That’s good,” he murmured. As long as Harvey was okay, nothing else mattered.
“You should rest,” the nurse told him. “The morphine will make you groggy, so if you feel tired you shouldn’t try to stay awake.” Mike nodded, blinking sleepily. He wondered what Harvey was doing at that moment. He wondered if Harvey was at work, or if he’d taken the day off after what happened. He wondered if Harvey was waiting for some kind of phone call to find out what had happened to Mike, or maybe even calling the hospital to check on him. He liked to think that he was, but he didn’t quite believe it. As Mike drifted off to sleep once more, his mind was on one thing: so long as Harvey was safe and happy, what happened to Mike didn’t matter.
Finally Harvey and Donna were able to speak to the attendant at the front desk. They explained why they were there, and she gave them a room number. They arrived just as a nurse was leaving.
“We weren’t sure he would make it, for a while,” she explained, and Harvey felt sick at her words. “But he pulled through, and he should make a full recovery.” Harvey didn’t try to hide his sigh of relief, and Donna reached over to squeeze his hand. He felt almost light-headed with relief, but the realization of just how close he’d come to losing Mike made him feel nauseous.
“He’ll be in the hospital for about a week, and he’ll have to take it easy for a while after that,” the nurse said gravely. “One of his ribs is broken, and he punctured a lung. He’s in a great deal of pain right now, so we’ve got him on a pretty high dose of morphine.”
The reminder of what Mike had gone through, was still going through, for Harvey’s sake was another sharp knife of guilt. Donna must have seen that in Harvey’s face, for she quickly asked, “Has he woken up yet?”
“For a few seconds,” the nurse confirmed. “But he fell asleep immediately after. As I said, it’s a high dose of morphine. He won’t be aware of much for a while. He did ask for someone named Harvey, though.” She added it like an afterthought, but Harvey’s heart leapt at her words. That Mike would want to see him after what had happened -after what Harvey had done, and what he had let happen- was more than he had dared to hope for.
“I’m Harvey,” he said, and the nurse nodded.
“He wanted to know if you were alright. He said you were involved in the shooting, and was worried you’d been hurt too.” That Mike would still be worrying about Harvey even when he had come so close to dying was yet another stab of guilt. Though Harvey supposed it made sense that Mike would be worried, since protecting Harvey was the whole reason he’d gotten hurt.
“You can go in and see him,” the nurse said. “But don’t try to wake him up.” Harvey nodded earnestly, and glanced over at Donna. She laid a hand on his arm, urging him to go while she stayed behind.
Harvey slipped into Mike’s room as unobtrusively as possible. The room was all white, sterile, cold. It wasn’t appropriate to hold someone like Mike, who was so alive and vibrant. Though now he simply lay in the bed, tubes in one arm and wires to his chest to monitor his vitals. His face was pale, and he looked small and weak lying still in the large bed.
Harvey pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, gazing down at Mike’s impassive face. The only noise in the room was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and Mike’s soft, slightly labored breathing. Harvey reached out to brush Mike’s hair back from his face, and realized with a shock that his fingers were trembling. He stared at them, watching the slight tremor, then curled his fingers into a fist and lowered it to his side.
Mike’s stillness, something Harvey had never seen from him before, even when he fell asleep at his desk and twitched and shifted, was unnerving to Harvey. He watched Mike’s face for a spasm of pain, a flutter of eyelids, anything to make it seem like he was truly alive. He supposed the morphine must keep Mike so deeply under that he could barely move at all. He thought about what the nurse had said, that Mike was in a great deal of pain. He thought of the blood puddle on the concrete, and the flecks of brown-black dried blood on his hands after he was dragged to the police station for questioning. That pain, that bloodshed, had been meant for Harvey. Mike had known it, Mike had seen what was going to happen, and he prevented it by using his own body as a shield, even knowing the cost. Harvey didn’t know why he had done it, especially considering what Harvey ad been saying to him at the time. Mike didn’t owe Harvey his life. Harvey had never done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty from Mike.
Harvey had never done anything to deserve any of the regard Mike had for him. He didn’t deserve Mike’s adoration, his respect. He didn’t deserve Mike’s trust, his loyalty in the office. He knew Mike hung onto his every word of praise, but he didn’t know why. His praise wasn’t so important a thing that Mike should go to such lengths to obtain it. His spite wasn’t something that should have hurt Mike as much as he knew it could. Harvey shouldn’t have mattered to Mike as much as he did. He didn’t deserve it. He certainly didn’t deserve someone who was willing to lay down his life for him, especially with the treatment he received at Harvey’s hand.
Harvey looked down at Mike’s still face and sighed. He again lifted his trembling hand, this time to trace a finger down the side of Mike’s face. He wondered how he had ever ended up with someone who cared as much about him as Mike did. He wondered how he could ever begin to repay Mike for all he’d done, not just the day before, but every day since they met.
Harvey sighed and shook his head when Mike didn’t stir at Harvey’s touch. The stillness and quietness of the room were unnerving, especially considering Mike had never been associated with either. In an attempt to fill the silence, Harvey tried to speak. “Mike,” he said softly, but winced at how loud it sounded echoing in the room.
“Mike,” he repeated at a whisper. “It’s Harvey. I… I came to see you. The nurse said you’d asked for me. I’m here, so don’t worry about me. You just need to get better.” Harvey gently laid a hand over Mike’s where it rested on top of the blankets. “You have to get better, okay? I need someone to- to grab my coffee, and read through my briefs. I know I never tell you this, but I’ve gotten so used to all the things you do that I would never be able to function if you left. I really, really do need you.”
“But it’s not just that,” Harvey added, feeling obligated to say more even though he knew Mike couldn’t hear him. “You’ve become such a big part of my life, in so many ways. I know I’ll be going crazy when I go back to work while you’re still in the hospital. I’ll keep walking past your cubicle, and every time I see that you’re not there, I’ll feel like I can’t keep working. I can’t stop thinking about you. I worry, so much. Are you in pain? Are you scared? I… It’s not just professional worry about my associate, not common courtesy for another human being. I worry about you. I care about you. I never realized before how much it would hurt me if… if you suddenly weren’t there anymore. It happened so slowly, you becoming a part of my life, that I didn’t even realize until now how much you matter to me.”
“I… I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I know I threatened to fire you, but I never really would. I need you too much, and not just for work. I… I was angry then, not even with you, really, just angry. I said things because I was angry. I shouldn’t have. I’ll…,” Harvey broke of and sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I remember what you said, about hating my kind of person. I think you’re right. I hate my kind of person too. I don’t want to be the type of person who tries to tear others down just because he’s upset. That type of person… my type of person doesn’t deserve someone like you, someone who would risk his own life to save me. I really don’t… deserve you. I’ve never done anything to be worthy of all you do for me, and all your care for me.”
“But I’m trying, I swear it. And I’ll keep trying. I promise that I’ll never say anything for the sake of hurting you, or anyone, ever again. I promise that there will never again be a day that I don’t let you know how much I care about you. When… when I thought you might die, all I could think about was that the last thing I said to you was something angry. Something I didn’t even mean. I never want that to happen. I want you to wake up soon, so I can tell you I didn’t mean any of it. So I can tell you how much you matter to me, how much I care. So I can tell you that I love you.”
The last words spilled out without Harvey’s thinking, but even as they rolled off his tongue, he knew they were right. How else could he describe the feeling that his life wouldn’t be worth living without Mike, that he would rather die himself than see Mike go through this? It could only be love.
Mike must have been dreaming, because he could have sworn he heard Harvey’s voice. The nurse had told him that no one else had been brought in, and she hadn’t said anything about visitors, so Harvey couldn’t possibly be there. But even in a dream, his voice was soothing. Mike loved the way Harvey’s voice sounded in his ears, when he was pleased, when he was smug, even when he was angry, so long as the anger wasn’t directed towards Mike, which it too often was.
As Mike dreamt, the soft murmuring resolved itself into words. It took a moment before Mike’s drug-muddled brain could make sense of them, but once he could he knew it must have been a dream. Surely only in his dreams would Harvey admit to caring for Mike. Mike listened to the dream-Harvey speaking, apologizing for yelling at Mike, admitting to needing him, saying he didn’t deserve him. Saying he loved him. Even if it was a dream, Mike wanted to see Harvey’s face, wanted to ask him to say it again. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at the blank white ceiling. He could feel Harvey’s hand resting on his. It didn’t feel like a dream.
“Am I awake?” Mike asked out-loud, his voice slurred with sleep.
“Mike?” Harvey’s voice asked, nervous and worried and excited. Mike turned his head slowly to the side, and say Harvey sitting next to his bed. Mike thought to himself that the scene seemed surprisingly plausible; he would have expected a dream of Harvey professing his love to Mike to involve rainbows and glitter and mythical creatures. He almost giggled at the thought.
“How are you feeling?” Harvey asked gently, which seemed like a perfectly natural question to ask, nothing like the fantastic dialogue of a dream.
“Sore all over,” Mike said honestly. “Am I dreaming?”
Harvey looked at him sadly, his fingers stroking over the back of Mike’s hand. “Does it seem like a nightmare? Getting shot trying to save me after the things I said?”
“No,” Mike denied, surprised by Harvey’s words. They didn’t seem like something the Harvey he knew would say, but they also didn’t seem to fit with the idea of a beautiful dream of Harvey being in love with him. “I know that part was real. But you said you love me; I have to be dreaming.”
Harvey’s solemn expression shifted into a tender smile. “If you’re dreaming, so am I.” Mike blinked at him, the sentence to abstract for his drug-hazed brain to comprehend. Harvey took pity on him and rephrased. “It’s not a dream, Mike. This is real. I really love you.”
Mike opened and closed his mouth, trying to compose a response. Each thing he thought to say didn’t seem right. Finally he asked, “How long?”
“I don’t know,” Harvey admitted. “Maybe for a long time. It happened so slowly, me starting to care for you, that I didn’t even realize it until yesterday. I didn’t realize until I said it that I love you.” His expression turned nervous, and he pulled his hand reluctantly back from Mike’s. “You don’t have to do anything, though. I don’t expect you to return my feelings. I don’t want you to feel obligated-”
“No,” Mike said simply. Harvey nodded, his expression just a little hurt, though Mike couldn’t imagine why.
“I’ll respect that,” Harvey told him. Mike frowned, trying to figure out what Harvey was respecting. Then he realized that Harvey thought he was saying no to being in love with him, returning his feelings. Which was absolutely not true.
“No,” Mike repeated urgently. “No, I mean, I mean, no, not like that!” Harvey looked at him curiously, and Mike struggled to explain himself. “What I meant was, no to- to- to feeling obligated, or something. To you thinking that I don’t return your feelings. Because I do. So, I guess what I mean is, yes. Yes, I love you too.” Mike smiled hopefully, and watched Harvey’s eyes as he thought through what Mike had said.
“I don’t understand,” Harvey said.
“What’s not to understand? I said yes!” Mike wondered if the things that made sense to him, in his narcotics-fogged state, actually made no sense when spoken aloud.
“Why do you love someone like me? All I’ve ever done is been cruel to you.” Mike looked up at Harvey, at the earnestly confused, guilty expression on his face, and his heart ached for him. Mike reached for Harvey’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I can read people, too, Harvey,” Mike said. “I knew you cared. I always knew. You’ve cared from the moment you hired me; otherwise you would have chosen someone safer. I know that withholding praise is your way of pushing me to be better, to improve, for my sake as well as for the case. I know you get mad sometimes and take it out on people who don’t deserve it. Everyone does, sometimes. It’s human. And yeah, it hurts me, but mostly I just want to let it happen so that you’ll feel better afterwards. So don’t think you’re unworthy of being loved. And as for the bullet,” Mike forced a grin, trying to make lights of the situation. “I would have done that for anyone. I’m reckless like that.”
Harvey’s expression was strange, one Mike couldn’t quite read. The smile fell from Mike’s lips as he watched it, trying to figure out how Harvey would react. Then Harvey leaned down slowly until his face was inches away from Mike’s. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, as if he was afraid of being rejected.
Mike smiled. “Of course,” he said, the only response he could possibly give. Harvey closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Mike’s chastely, gently, softly, like he was afraid of breaking Mike. Then he pulled away and put his fingers to his lips like he couldn’t believe it had happened. Mike grinned.
“I really love you,” Mike said. Harvey’s stunned expression turned into a tender smile.
“I really love you, too,” he said.
Mike gave Harvey’s hand a squeeze. “Promise I’m not dreaming?” Mike asked. Harvey squeezed his hand in return and nodded. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” Mike asked. Harvey nodded again.
“For as long as you want me to be.” Mike grinned sleepily, feeling the drugs start to pull him back into darkness once more.
“That’ll be forever,” he murmured just before his eyes fell shut and he slept, a contented smile on his lips.