Brother from another mother

Post-its. [Part-11]

Mike felt as though his eye lids were too heavy for him. He groped slightly at the bedcovers and winced as the bones in his hand rebelled. His head honestly felt like it would break off in two and then his brain would leak through his ears. It was an almost welcome image, he thought sluggishly, imagining the warmth his smooth brain would give, flowing from his head... He squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping that was just an effect of the meds. He really didn't want to find out he had brain damage. Although that guy with the pipe must have given him a spectacular bruise on his jawbone. And a skull fracture to go with it... maybe some wiring had been required to fit his jaw back together? Because right now it hurt like hell.

His other hand squeezed into a fist and heard a crackling. He peeked his eyes open and pulled his hand up - thankfully this one didn't hurt that much - to see a peice of notepaper in his palm. He slowly opened it, reading slowly as the room seemed to wave around in front of him.

I don't know how you manage to get into these situations; all you were doing was visiting your grandmother! How is that dangerous? And don't think that just because you were passed out somewhere means that I can't shout at you for not TELLING me you were passed out somewhere. I've been sat here for the past HOUR. If you wake up and I'm not here, chances are I've found something important to do - which basically means anything else that doesn't consist of me sat in this room listening to that damn annoying heart moniter.

Mike tried to figure out just how exactly that note was meant to mean something. He usually understood any note that Harvey left, so he blamed the more than likely brain damage. He was definitely feeling tired though. But, ever the loyal puppy, he felt that he owed Harvey a note back. Thankfully, there was a pad of notepaper and a pen on the bedside table, and he could slowly write a message back. He had just laid it down on the table before his eyes rolled up and he passed out again.

Harvey stretched as he re-entered the hospital room. Not much had changed since he had gone to get coffee, but he saw that Mike was clutching the note that Harvey himself had left. He gently went over to tug it out of his associate's hand, not feeling the need to leave it there anymore. However, as he did so, he noticed a pen and notepad resting on the table that he hadn't noticed before. He picked it up and his eyes widened as he realised that Mike had woken up when he had been gone.

You don't need to stay, Harvey, I'm fine here - mostly sleeping. Do you think a (Harvey smirked as he saw that the word 'concussion' had been spelt wrong several times before simply being crossed out) head injury is supposed to hurt as much as it does? If you could kill me when you get back that would be heavily appreciated...

It was a short message, and the writing was a scrawled mess, Mike's words sprawling out all over the page. Harvey wasn't sure if he should inform a doctor or a nurse that their patient had woken up; for however brief a time.

He decided to press the call button anyway, and the friendly nurse who had shown him where Mike's room was in the first place came back in. "You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I think the kid woke up while I was gone," Harvey told him.

The nurse (Lyle, Harvey read on his badge) gave Mike a quick check. "That's good; his concussion will be giving him hell though, the pain meds we were giving him should probably make him sleepy and pretty out of it."

Harvey nodded and thanked him, settling down in the chair for what he assumed would be a long wait.

The second time Mike woke up, he gazed around dazedly. They must have drugged him up pretty well, because he couldn't really feel much. He hoped that was a good thing, and that it was deliberate rather than he'd severed some nerves. He could see that it was nearing dusk outside, and he winced as he looked around the room, his neck aching. He paused as he saw there was still a jacket on the seat near his bed.