Brother from another mother

Heat Wave. [Part-5]

His fingers slowly gripped the hand that held his.

"Harvey?"

The man stirred at his side with a mumble. His fingers – remembering what task had been appointed to them – automatically tightened over Mike's. He rubbed his eyes against the inside of his elbow and then sleepily looked over it.

The moment russet eyes met blue-gray, Harvey was awake and he straightened instantly, all signs of tiredness wiped clear from his features.

"Mike."

Mike offered him a tired smile. "That's my name."

A similar smile broke out over Harvey's lips, the light reaching dark eyes. He released a relieved sigh, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders as he sank down to lean forward on his elbows. His eyes searched Mike's for a moment, as if to ensure that Mike was actually looking at him (and was actually seeing him) and that the previous fog had lifted. Mike held his gaze to prove it had.

"How are you feeling?" Harvey asked quietly, his hand refusing to release Mike's.

"Better," Mike answered. "But I don't know if I'll ever be able to play the violin again."

"Give it time, smartass" Harvey chuckled as he rapped Mike on the forehead with a soft fist. "You'll be able to run that marathon too in time. Now, how about a real answer."

"Still tired," Mike answered honestly. He knew he couldn't lie to Harvey even if he wanted to. The man could read people so easily it was like he had a damn lie detector wired into his brain. "And sore. It hurts."

"I know, kid," Harvey said sympathetically. "That's the side effects of a heat stroke: sore muscles, fatigue, all that good stuff."

"Yay," Mike monotoned with an exaggerated lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't worry, it won't last long. And the doctor has already given you pain medication to minimize the worst of it."

"Yay," Mike repeated with an exaggerated excess of enthusiasm.

Harvey chuckled and Mike noted that some of the weariness seeped into the older man's features started to ebb away.

"Hey, can you help me up? I'm tired of lying down," Mike asked, trying to perform the action himself but only managing to push up against the headboard so that his chin dipped towards his chest in an uncomfortable fashion. His muscles felt like jelly.

"Sure," Harvey said and stood up to push Mike's pillow up against the headboard. Then he eased Mike up into a sitting position, guiding him to lean back against the pillow. He kept his hands on his shoulders to guarantee that Mike could stay in the upright position without toppling over before returning to his seat, his hand coming to rest over Mike's.

"Thanks," Mike breathed as he rotated his stiff neck.

Harvey nodded in response, glancing past Mike to the machine on his right to make sure everything was still functioning properly.

Mike broke the quiet first. "If you don't mind my asking–"

"If you have to start a question like that, I probably mind."

"–how long have I been in here?"

Harvey looked down, his focus shifting to Mike's hand encompassed within his own. He distractedly ran his hand through his hair for what Mike guessed to be the hundredth time.

"A day."

"Only a day?" Mike asked incredulously, making Harvey look back up at him quizzically.