The Close Call, Chapter 8
Author: wyndhamfan2
Characters: Mike Ross, Harvey Specter, Donna, Jessica
Warnings: none
Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Friendship
Summary: A near-impossible case. A vicious opponent. And a really, really bad cold. Mike Ross is in over his
< Back to Chapter 7
Chapter Eight
Harvey Specter made reading people his sixth sense. And right now, his sixth sense was tingling. He saw it in Rollins, whose frown deepened when he studied Mike's charts. He saw it in the furtive looks the nurses threw at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and he hated being out of the loop.
He got it. Sometimes he hid things from his clients as well. It was too troublesome to tell them what he had planned, and most of the time they just panicked anyway. Better to just deal with it, neat and tidy behind the scenes, without the unnecessary drama. He got it. But he didn't like it when it was done to him.
He balanced the files on his lap and stared at Mike's drawn, and frighteningly pale face. It has been ten hours since he was admitted to this hospital, and Mike had gotten worse. Since awakening in full blown delirium four hours ago, Mike hadn't moved an inch. He just lay there, his breathing fast and shallow, his hair growing damp from sweat. His fever, said a nurse, had grown worse. It was now 105, and they were doing all they can to bring it down. But the unspoken message he got from them all was that whatever they were doing wasn't enough. Whatever strange disease that felled Mike Ross in just 48 hours was dragging him to death's door.
He shook his head, angry at the direction his thoughts were going. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and was surprised to see Mike's blue ones staring at him when he removed his hand.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, unsure if Mike was entirely lucid or not.
Mike didn't reply at first, but then he sighed. He slowly reached out to move the oxygen mask from his face, but Harvey stopped him with a firm grip to his hand.
“You need that on,” he said.
Mike sighed in resignation.
“I have a funny feeling … that I did something embarrassing,” he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.
He tried not to let his alarm over Mike's apparent deterioration show on his features. “Oh yeah?” he said as indifferently as he could.
Mike nodded then gave him a tired smile. “I think I said I wanted to kill you.”
Harvey shrugged. “You're not the first. You won't be the last.”
Mike groaned in embarrassment. “So I really did try to kick you?”
“Don't worry, you missed,” he said, smiling.
“Man. That's just so … girly,” he muttered. His eyes slid close, and Harvey thought he was asleep again. He was about to leaf through the file again when he heard Mike weakly call his name.
“What is it?”
“The case. I just remembered.”
“That's the last thing you need to worry about now. Sleep,” he said brusquely.
Mike swallowed and shook his head feebly. “I don't know how I could've forgotten - ”
Harvey leaned over so that his face was only inches away from Mike's.
“Mike. Listen to me. It's no longer your problem. I've got it.”
“Harvey … when I realised I screwed up the case, I called in some favours. Lola,” he said, whispery soft.
Lola, the daughter of tycoon James Morrisson. She also happened to be a brilliant hacker who inserted Mike's name into the Harvard Law rolls.
“She found something. I was supposed to tell you today but … I was just so ...”
Harvey reached out and grasped Mike's hand. “I got it. You don't have to explain, Mike.” he said.
“I don't understand what's wrong with me. I keep forgetting things.”
“It's the fever, Mike.”
Then, his eyes suddenly widened. “Harvey. My grandmother,” he whispered.
Harvey cursed silently. In the chaos, he had completely forgotten to call Mike's grandmother.
“Don't worry, Donna's already on it,” he said. Which she probably was. Thank God for her.
Mike relaxed then sucked in a tremulous breath when he suddenly shook with chills. Harvey could only pull the blankets higher and watch helplessly until the fit passed.
“Harvey.”
He nodded.
“Am I dying?”
He froze. How does one answer something like that? “Don't talk like that.”
“I have to consider it. I have to think about Grammy.”
“You need to think about yourself. Specifically that you need to rest.”
“Promise me you'll take care of her if anything happens to me,” he whispered, his eyes wide and frantic.
“Mike. Don't be dramatic,” he said, but there was no punch to his words. Instead, he just felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Harvey Specter wasn't responsible for anyone but himself. He had made it his life motto - but he knew that he would step up to the plate if Mike … no. No, he refused to go there.
Mike looked at him fearfully at first, but to his surprise, he suddenly grinned. “I just realised … that you're here. You have a bleeding heart, Harvey Specter.”
Harvey was about to make up same lame excuse when he saw the light just go out from Mike's blue eyes. One moment Mike was there, and the next … he was just gone. He heard a long, soft exhalation, and Mike went still, his half open blue eyes staring blankly at him.
And all at once the monitors began shrieking.
He got up hastily, and the files fell from his icy hands. When a squad of nurses and doctors suddenly appeared, he backed away reluctantly. He could vaguely see the frantic activity around Mike, and saw how a female doctor was doing CPR on him, but his gaze was sharply focused on Mike's dull, half-opened eyes.
“Goddamn it Mike,” he whispered as the doctor pressed down on his chest again and again. “Don't you dare make me watch you die.”
--- S --- S --- S ---
They had intubated him, saying that he was now too weak to breathe on his own. He was vaguely aware that Rollins was there somewhere in the room, talking in low, heated tones with Dr Matthews.
“Mike. Don't do that again,” he said under his breath as he studied the still face before him.
Mike was unresponsive, of course. His chest rose in a steady, dependable, and utterly artificial cadence.
“How the hell do you always end up making things so … crazy?” Harvey wondered out loud.
And he found himself reaching out and clasping Mike's hand, careful to avoid the IV that pierced his wrist. If Mike had been awake, he would certainly have been alarmed by this sudden public display of affection (and so would Harvey). But Harvey figured that it didn't really matter now - especially since Mike wouldn't remember a thing if he woke up.
And he will wake up.
“I'm going to win the case. And you're going to rest and not have a care in the world because your job's done. We are taking care of your grandmother as we speak and ... Rollins even has your back. So listen to me and just rest,” he said awkwardly.
He gave Mike's hand a gentle squeeze and then stood up.
It was time to get to work.
Characters: Mike Ross, Harvey Specter, Donna, Jessica
Warnings: none
Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Friendship
Summary: A near-impossible case. A vicious opponent. And a really, really bad cold. Mike Ross is in over his
< Back to Chapter 7
Chapter Eight
Harvey Specter made reading people his sixth sense. And right now, his sixth sense was tingling. He saw it in Rollins, whose frown deepened when he studied Mike's charts. He saw it in the furtive looks the nurses threw at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and he hated being out of the loop.
He got it. Sometimes he hid things from his clients as well. It was too troublesome to tell them what he had planned, and most of the time they just panicked anyway. Better to just deal with it, neat and tidy behind the scenes, without the unnecessary drama. He got it. But he didn't like it when it was done to him.
He balanced the files on his lap and stared at Mike's drawn, and frighteningly pale face. It has been ten hours since he was admitted to this hospital, and Mike had gotten worse. Since awakening in full blown delirium four hours ago, Mike hadn't moved an inch. He just lay there, his breathing fast and shallow, his hair growing damp from sweat. His fever, said a nurse, had grown worse. It was now 105, and they were doing all they can to bring it down. But the unspoken message he got from them all was that whatever they were doing wasn't enough. Whatever strange disease that felled Mike Ross in just 48 hours was dragging him to death's door.
He shook his head, angry at the direction his thoughts were going. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and was surprised to see Mike's blue ones staring at him when he removed his hand.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, unsure if Mike was entirely lucid or not.
Mike didn't reply at first, but then he sighed. He slowly reached out to move the oxygen mask from his face, but Harvey stopped him with a firm grip to his hand.
“You need that on,” he said.
Mike sighed in resignation.
“I have a funny feeling … that I did something embarrassing,” he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.
He tried not to let his alarm over Mike's apparent deterioration show on his features. “Oh yeah?” he said as indifferently as he could.
Mike nodded then gave him a tired smile. “I think I said I wanted to kill you.”
Harvey shrugged. “You're not the first. You won't be the last.”
Mike groaned in embarrassment. “So I really did try to kick you?”
“Don't worry, you missed,” he said, smiling.
“Man. That's just so … girly,” he muttered. His eyes slid close, and Harvey thought he was asleep again. He was about to leaf through the file again when he heard Mike weakly call his name.
“What is it?”
“The case. I just remembered.”
“That's the last thing you need to worry about now. Sleep,” he said brusquely.
Mike swallowed and shook his head feebly. “I don't know how I could've forgotten - ”
Harvey leaned over so that his face was only inches away from Mike's.
“Mike. Listen to me. It's no longer your problem. I've got it.”
“Harvey … when I realised I screwed up the case, I called in some favours. Lola,” he said, whispery soft.
Lola, the daughter of tycoon James Morrisson. She also happened to be a brilliant hacker who inserted Mike's name into the Harvard Law rolls.
“She found something. I was supposed to tell you today but … I was just so ...”
Harvey reached out and grasped Mike's hand. “I got it. You don't have to explain, Mike.” he said.
“I don't understand what's wrong with me. I keep forgetting things.”
“It's the fever, Mike.”
Then, his eyes suddenly widened. “Harvey. My grandmother,” he whispered.
Harvey cursed silently. In the chaos, he had completely forgotten to call Mike's grandmother.
“Don't worry, Donna's already on it,” he said. Which she probably was. Thank God for her.
Mike relaxed then sucked in a tremulous breath when he suddenly shook with chills. Harvey could only pull the blankets higher and watch helplessly until the fit passed.
“Harvey.”
He nodded.
“Am I dying?”
He froze. How does one answer something like that? “Don't talk like that.”
“I have to consider it. I have to think about Grammy.”
“You need to think about yourself. Specifically that you need to rest.”
“Promise me you'll take care of her if anything happens to me,” he whispered, his eyes wide and frantic.
“Mike. Don't be dramatic,” he said, but there was no punch to his words. Instead, he just felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Harvey Specter wasn't responsible for anyone but himself. He had made it his life motto - but he knew that he would step up to the plate if Mike … no. No, he refused to go there.
Mike looked at him fearfully at first, but to his surprise, he suddenly grinned. “I just realised … that you're here. You have a bleeding heart, Harvey Specter.”
Harvey was about to make up same lame excuse when he saw the light just go out from Mike's blue eyes. One moment Mike was there, and the next … he was just gone. He heard a long, soft exhalation, and Mike went still, his half open blue eyes staring blankly at him.
And all at once the monitors began shrieking.
He got up hastily, and the files fell from his icy hands. When a squad of nurses and doctors suddenly appeared, he backed away reluctantly. He could vaguely see the frantic activity around Mike, and saw how a female doctor was doing CPR on him, but his gaze was sharply focused on Mike's dull, half-opened eyes.
“Goddamn it Mike,” he whispered as the doctor pressed down on his chest again and again. “Don't you dare make me watch you die.”
--- S --- S --- S ---
They had intubated him, saying that he was now too weak to breathe on his own. He was vaguely aware that Rollins was there somewhere in the room, talking in low, heated tones with Dr Matthews.
“Mike. Don't do that again,” he said under his breath as he studied the still face before him.
Mike was unresponsive, of course. His chest rose in a steady, dependable, and utterly artificial cadence.
“How the hell do you always end up making things so … crazy?” Harvey wondered out loud.
And he found himself reaching out and clasping Mike's hand, careful to avoid the IV that pierced his wrist. If Mike had been awake, he would certainly have been alarmed by this sudden public display of affection (and so would Harvey). But Harvey figured that it didn't really matter now - especially since Mike wouldn't remember a thing if he woke up.
And he will wake up.
“I'm going to win the case. And you're going to rest and not have a care in the world because your job's done. We are taking care of your grandmother as we speak and ... Rollins even has your back. So listen to me and just rest,” he said awkwardly.
He gave Mike's hand a gentle squeeze and then stood up.
It was time to get to work.