Chapter Text
Harvey had left his office for barely an hour. Barely. One meeting, one insignificant merger discussion that didn't even require his full attention, and now he was walking back into his office only to find—
A child.
A little boy, no older than three, curled up in the corner of Harvey’s sleek leather couch, tiny fists gripping at the fabric of his shirt as if it were a lifeline. The kid was trembling, his chest rising and falling in sharp, unsteady breaths, and worst of all, his big, glassy blue eyes were spilling silent tears down his chubby cheeks.
Harvey froze in the doorway. His brain short-circuited, unable to compute how, exactly, a toddler had made his way into one of the most high-powered law firms in Manhattan. He wasn’t alone for long; Donna appeared at his side, taking one look at the scene and immediately softening. Jessica was close behind, arching an elegant brow as she surveyed the tiny intruder.
"Harvey," Donna whispered, her voice unusually gentle. "Where did he come from?"
"How the hell should I know?" Harvey hissed back. He was already mentally filing through the possibilities—someone’s client’s kid? A lost child from one of the offices? Some weird prank?—but nothing made sense.
The kid sniffled, swiping at his face with the back of his hand, still curled in on himself like he wanted to disappear. It sent a weird pang through Harvey’s chest, something uncomfortably close to sympathy. He hated seeing people cry—especially kids.
Jessica, ever the composed one, took a step forward and crouched to the boy’s level. "Sweetheart," she said, her voice smooth and warm, "Are you lost? Where are your parents?"
For a moment, the boy didn’t answer. He just sat there, eyes flickering between the three of them, like he was studying them. Then, suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut, his tiny hands balling into fists, and in a tiny, broken voice, he choked out, "They’re dead. You should already know that."
Silence.
A thick, heavy kind of silence. Like the air had been sucked out of the room. Like the walls had just shifted, and everything they thought they knew had been turned inside out.
Harvey’s stomach dropped. His skin went cold.
Because the way that kid had said it—broken but certain, raw but familiar—
It was Mike.
Harvey felt his pulse skyrocket. He turned, looking at Donna, then Jessica, watching as the realization dawned on them, too. He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.
But—
But those were Mike’s eyes. That was his messy blond hair. The same fucking tie Harvey had seen him wearing just this morning, only now oversized and ridiculous on his tiny frame.
“Oh my God,” Donna breathed, stepping forward, her hands hovering like she wanted to touch him but didn’t know how. “Mike?”
The kid—Mike—hiccupped, looking at them, his lower lip trembling. His whole body was trembling.
And then, as if the realization hit him all over again, he just started sobbing.
Full-bodied, soul-wrenching sobs, like the weight of everything had finally crashed down on him, and it was too much. And Harvey, despite every part of his brain still trying to catch up, still reeling from the impossibility of this situation, moved without thinking.
He crossed the space between them and scooped Mike up, cradling his tiny, shaking form against his chest. Mike clung to him immediately, tiny hands fisting in Harvey’s shirt as he buried his face into his shoulder.
Harvey could feel the tears soaking through his dress shirt. Could feel the way Mike’s small body curled into him, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. It made Harvey’s throat go tight.
"I got you, rookie," Harvey murmured, rocking him slightly, his hand firm against his back. "You're okay. I got you."
Mike just cried harder.
Donna was beside them in an instant, one hand resting on Mike’s back, the other brushing his damp curls from his forehead. Her eyes were shining, her lips pressed into a tight, wobbly line.
Jessica, ever the composed one, took a slow, measured breath. "We need to figure out what happened," she said, though even her voice had lost some of its usual edge. "But first… we take care of him."
Harvey nodded, tightening his grip on the impossibly small weight in his arms. "Yeah," he said softly. "First, we take care of him."
Mike hiccupped against him, his little fingers still twisted in Harvey’s shirt, and for the first time in his life, Harvey felt completely and utterly helpless.
But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was this: he wasn’t letting go.
----------------------------
Harvey had never been great with emotions—his own or anyone else's. But this? This was something else entirely.
Mike hadn't stopped crying. Not since Harvey had first picked him up, not since they'd all moved into the softer glow of Donna’s office, away from the prying eyes of the associates who had already been whispering about the mysterious child Harvey Specter had been cradling in his arms.
And it wasn’t the kind of crying Harvey was used to shutting down with a quick "suck it up, rookie." This wasn’t frustration over a case or some wounded pride because Harvey had thrown him into the deep end. This was something bigger, something heavier, and it was clear that even Mike didn’t know how to handle it.
Because this wasn’t normal.
Mike was an adult. Or at least, he had been. He was the same guy who could recall case law with photographic precision, who could argue a point until his opponent didn’t even remember what side they’d started on. He had a brain that never stopped, always buzzing, always overanalysing.
And right now, that same brain was trapped in a three-year-old body.
Jessica and Donna had figured it out almost immediately. The way Mike's tiny hands clenched at Harvey’s shirt, the way his sobs were too broken, too aware, the way he flinched at his own helplessness—
It made sense.
"It’s childhood emotions with an adult brain," Jessica had murmured to Donna as they watched Mike curl impossibly closer to Harvey. "He doesn’t have the defences he learned as an adult. He’s feeling everything at full force. No filter. No way to rationalize it."
Donna had nodded, her own eyes glassy. "And he doesn’t understand why."
Harvey didn’t need to hear any of that to know that Mike was in agony. He could feel it. Could feel the way the little body in his arms shuddered with every ragged breath, could feel the way his small fingers dug into the fabric of his suit, desperate for something solid, something safe.
"Okay, Harvey," Donna said gently after what felt like an eternity. "Maybe let me take him for a little while. I can calm him down—"
But before she could even reach for him, Mike let out a sharp, terrified wail and clung tighter to Harvey, shaking his head so violently that his curls flopped into his face.
"No, no, no, no!" Mike sobbed, pressing his face into Harvey’s chest. "No! Please, don’t let go!"
Harvey tightened his grip instinctively. "I’m not letting go," he murmured, shooting Donna a look that made it clear this was not happening.
Jessica sighed. "Harvey, he needs to calm down."
"You think I don’t know that?" Harvey snapped. His arms curled more protectively around Mike. "But he’s staying right here."
Jessica gave him a long, measured look, then exchanged a glance with Donna, who simply sighed and muttered, "Of course he imprints on Harvey Specter like a duckling."
Harvey ignored her. He was too busy rubbing slow, careful circles against Mike’s back, murmuring, "You’re okay, rookie. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting anything happen to you."
It took a while, but Mike’s sobs eventually turned into softer sniffles, though his tiny fists never loosened their hold. His whole body was still trembling, his face still buried in Harvey’s chest.
Then the door opened.
"Harvey, what the hell is going on? People are talking—"
Louis.
Harvey braced himself for another meltdown, but something weird happened.
Mike’s sniffles slowed. His little body shifted, pulling back slightly from Harvey’s shoulder. And then—
He turned his head and looked at Louis.
And stared.
The crying stopped entirely. His blue eyes, still glassy and red-rimmed, went wide with something that almost looked like… fascination.
Harvey, Donna, and Jessica all watched in stunned silence as Mike blinked at Louis, as if seeing him for the first time in his life. His small lips parted slightly. His breath evened out.
Louis, for his part, looked completely bewildered. "What?" he demanded, looking around. "Why is everyone staring at me? Why is there a child in Harvey’s arms? And why does he look like he just discovered fire?"
Mike hiccupped and then, in the smallest, most innocent voice, whispered, "You talk funny."
Harvey blinked. Jessica’s brows lifted. Donna smirked.
Louis scowled. "Excuse me?"
Mike just kept staring at him. "You sound… different." He tilted his head, studying him the way a scientist might study an alien species. "Like a cartoon character."
Louis’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Okay, what?"
Harvey bit back a laugh. Donna didn't bother.
Mike, still peering at Louis like he was the most interesting thing in the world, murmured, "I like it."
And just like that, the room—previously weighed down by heavy, suffocating grief—felt a little lighter.
Harvey exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. He adjusted his grip on Mike, rubbing a reassuring hand over his back, but for the first time since this nightmare started, Mike wasn’t trembling.
Jessica hummed. "Well. That’s… unexpected. Mike Ross willingly talking to Louis Litt."
Donna grinned. "Oh, I love this."
Louis, still standing there in stunned confusion, just pointed at himself. "Me?"
Harvey shook his head, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t question it, Louis. Just roll with it."
Louis scowled, but Mike was still watching him, his little face soft with curiosity instead of distress, and Harvey decided that for now, this was good enough.
For now, Mike wasn’t crying.
And Harvey would do whatever it took to keep it that way.
Harvey felt the tension in his own shoulders lessen—just slightly—as Mike, still curled against him, blinked up at Louis with that same wide-eyed fascination. There was something strangely innocent about it, something pure in a way that didn’t quite fit with the sharp-minded, wisecracking associate Harvey had known for years.
Then, in the smallest voice imaginable, Mike let out a tiny, "Up."
Louis, halfway through adjusting his tie in a show of self-importance, froze. "What?"
Mike squirmed slightly in Harvey’s arms before lifting his chubby little hands towards Louis. "Up," he repeated, stretching his fingers in a desperate grabby-hand motion.
The entire room went silent.
Harvey stared. Donna stared. Jessica raised a single brow.
Louis turned pale. "Oh my God, he’s broken."
Harvey barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes. "He’s not broken, Louis. He just likes you."
"That doesn’t make sense," Louis argued, his voice almost panicked. "Mike has never liked me."
Harvey sighed. "Yeah, well, right now, he does. So deal with it."
Mike whined, shifting in Harvey’s arms impatiently. His grabby hands became more insistent. "Want Louis," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his fists before reaching out again.
Donna snorted. "That might be the most surprising thing I’ve heard all year."
Louis still looked dumbfounded, but Harvey could feel the slight tremor in Mike’s small body—exhaustion was setting in, and the last thing they needed was another meltdown. Harvey adjusted his grip, hesitating for only a second before handing Mike over.
Mike latched onto Louis immediately, clinging like a little koala. His small hands found Louis’s tie, and he started fiddling with it, rubbing the silk between his fingers in a rhythmic, soothing motion.
Louis stiffened, holding Mike awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to support his weight. "Uh… what is happening?"
"He’s self-soothing," Donna said, watching Mike toy with the fabric. "Some kids do that with blankets or stuffed animals. Apparently, Mike does it with expensive ties."
Louis's face contorted. "Oh, great. So my six hundred-dollar Brioni is now a baby blanket. Fantastic."
Mike, completely ignoring him, buried his face against Louis's shoulder, still rubbing the tie between his fingers. His breathing, which had been ragged and uneven for the past hour, finally evened out.
Jessica, ever composed, crossed her arms and studied them with keen eyes. "Well. That settles one thing. He’s staying here."
Harvey, who had been watching Mike like a hawk, glanced at her sharply. "You mean at the firm?"
"I mean with us," Jessica corrected. "He’s not going anywhere—not until we figure out what happened. He can't be left alone. Harvey's basically adopted him and he has no one else to look after him."
Harvey didn’t know why, but the confirmation settled something inside him. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it before, but the idea of someone taking Mike—some outsider swooping in and deciding what was best for him—made his blood boil.
"Good," he muttered. "Because I wasn’t planning on letting him out of my sight."
Jessica gave him a knowing look. "Yes, Harvey. We all gathered that when you nearly bit Donna’s head off for trying to hold him."
Harvey scowled, but Donna just grinned.
Louis, meanwhile, looked increasingly alarmed. "Wait a minute," he interjected, still gripping Mike like he was made of glass. "Are we sure this is actually Mike? I mean—look at him. He’s tiny. He’s soft. He—he likes me. That’s not normal."
"He literally told us his parents were dead before we even realised who he was," Harvey snapped. "How many other three-year-olds do you think know that?"
Louis’s face fell. "Oh. Right."
Jessica sighed. "Regardless, we have to figure out a plan. We don’t know how this happened, and we don’t know how long it will last. For now, keeping him here is the best option."
Donna nodded. "We need to make sure he’s comfortable. He’s already stressed out enough. If this is some weird magical thing, stressing him out more might make it worse."
"Magical?" Louis repeated, looking sceptical.
"Louis," Harvey said flatly, "we’re holding a de-aged Mike Ross. If you have a better explanation, I’d love to hear it."
Louis opened his mouth, then closed it. "Point taken."
Jessica straightened, already slipping into problem-solving mode. "Alright. We need supplies. Clothes, food, and things that a three-year-old might need. And someone needs to stay with him at all times. He’s too scared to be alone."
Harvey’s grip tightened involuntarily. "I’ll stay."
Donna hummed. "Not surprising."
"We’ll take shifts," Jessica said. "Donna, you and I can coordinate. Louis, I assume you’ll be available, given Mike has apparently deemed you his new comfort object."
Louis looked down at the small, sleeping child still nestled against his chest. Mike’s tiny fingers were still wrapped around his tie, his breathing soft and steady. For a moment, something in Louis’s expression shifted—something that almost looked like affection.
Then he huffed. "Fine. But if he drools on my tie, someone is buying me a new one."
Harvey rolled his eyes. "I’ll add it to the firm’s expenses."
Jessica smirked, then softened slightly as she looked at Mike, who was now completely relaxed in Louis’s arms. "We’ll figure this out," she murmured. "One way or another."
Harvey exhaled, glancing between Mike, Jessica, and Donna before his eyes landed on Louis—who, despite his grumbling, was holding Mike as if he was something precious.
Yeah. They’d figure it out.
Because there was no way in hell they were letting Mike go through this alone.
------------------------------
Mike, still curled up in Louis’s arms, was no longer crying. His tiny fingers, which had been anxiously rubbing Louis’s tie for the past several minutes, had slowed, his grip becoming lazier, less frantic. His breathing had evened out, his little chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
He was falling asleep.
Harvey watched from where he sat, arms crossed but shoulders visibly less tense. Donna and Jessica stood nearby, their conversation about what to do next continuing in hushed tones, but every now and then, they stole glances at Mike, who looked impossibly small against Louis.
Louis, for his part, was as stiff as a board. He held Mike like he was some kind of delicate artifact, unsure if moving too much would disrupt the fragile peace that had finally settled over the child. "Uh. Guys? Is he—?"
"Asleep?" Donna finished, tilting her head to get a better look. "Not yet, but he’s close."
Louis frowned, peering down at the tiny body nestled against him. "And what am I supposed to do if he does fall asleep? I have work to do."
Harvey scoffed. "Yeah, and I’m sure whatever catfight you have going on with the associates right now is so much more important than the fact that Mike Ross just turned into a toddler."
"Hey," Louis sniffed. "I’ll have you know that teaching these associates proper courtroom etiquette is essential."
Donna smirked. "Louis, you are literally the closest thing Mike has to a human pacifier right now. Your tie is the only thing keeping him from spiralling into another meltdown."
Louis grimaced, looking down at his tie, which was now slightly crumpled from Mike’s incessant fidgeting. "Fantastic. My dignity and my wardrobe are officially destroyed."
"Oh, please," Jessica murmured, unimpressed. "This is probably the most well-loved you’ve ever been."
Louis shot her a glare, but it didn’t have much heat, considering the fact that Mike—little, fragile, still somewhat overwhelmed Mike—was burrowing further into his shoulder, his tiny breaths warming the fabric of Louis’s suit.
Harvey watched, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Mike never let himself lean on people like this. Not as an adult. Not really. Even when he needed help, he’d rather joke his way out of a vulnerable moment than actually admit he wanted comfort.
Now, though? Now, he was holding on like his life depended on it.
And something about that made Harvey’s chest ache.
Then—
"Harvey…"
The voice was barely above a whisper, breathy and soft, but it shattered the conversation in an instant.
Harvey straightened. Donna and Jessica turned their heads, eyes wide. Louis froze entirely, his arms tightening just slightly around Mike.
"Did he just—?" Jessica started, but then Mike stirred again, shifting in his sleep. His fingers curled into Louis’s jacket, but his little face scrunched up, as if something was wrong.
"Harvey…" This time, the name came out in a tiny whimper, laced with exhaustion and something else—something almost pleading.
Louis turned to look at Harvey, and for the first time, there wasn’t any smugness or snarky in his expression—just understanding. Without a word, he carefully adjusted his grip and held Mike out.
Harvey didn’t hesitate. He reached forward and scooped Mike up in one smooth motion, tucking the kid against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mike responded instantly. His little hands fisted into Harvey’s suit, his face pressing into the crook of Harvey’s neck with an almost instinctual need.
And just like that, the tension in his tiny body disappeared.
Jessica exhaled, a knowing look in her eyes. Donna, standing beside her, looked like she was about five seconds away from melting into a puddle. "Oh my God," she whispered, grinning. "That is the cutest thing I have ever seen."
Louis, adjusting his tie with a scowl, muttered, "You’re all ridiculous."
"Louis," Donna cooed, "admit it. You think it’s cute."
"I will do no such thing."
Jessica smirked, crossing her arms. "I think it’s safe to say we have our answer."
Harvey raised a brow. "About what?"
"Who Mike trusts the most," Jessica replied simply, nodding towards the child currently curled up against Harvey like he belonged there.
Harvey opened his mouth, prepared to argue, but then Mike shifted slightly in his sleep, pressing impossibly closer, his little hand grasping onto the lapel of Harvey’s suit like letting go wasn’t an option.
And Harvey… didn’t argue.
Didn’t even try.
--------------------
Harvey carried Mike through the door of his condo, shifting his grip slightly to keep the sleeping child secure. The weight was different than what he was used to—lighter, smaller, fragile in a way that made something in Harvey’s chest tighten.
Mike had fallen into a deeper sleep on the drive over, his face slack with exhaustion, his tiny hand still clinging to the fabric of Harvey’s suit. The kid had been through hell today. They all had. And as much as Harvey wanted answers, this—getting him settled, keeping him safe—was the priority.
Behind him, Jessica and Donna stepped inside, carrying bags full of supplies they’d picked up on the way over. Clothes, food, random things they thought a toddler might need. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
"Alright, let’s get set up," Jessica said, setting the bags down. "Harvey, put him in bed. We’ll deal with everything else."
Harvey nodded and started towards his bedroom, but Donna’s sudden giggle stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh my God," she whispered, nudging Jessica and pointing at Mike.
Harvey sighed, already exasperated. "What?"
Jessica smirked, crossing her arms. "He’s drooling."
Harvey blinked. "What?"
Donna outright laughed, stepping closer to get a better look. "Mike. He’s drooling. On your tie."
Harvey looked down and—sure enough—there it was. A tiny wet patch forming right against the silk of his tie where Mike’s little mouth was pressed.
Harvey scowled. "Are you serious?"
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Are you really surprised? He’s a toddler, Harvey. What did you expect?"
"Yeah, but my tie—"
Donna waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. You act like you don’t have twenty of those."
Harvey grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Instead, he adjusted Mike’s position slightly, ignoring the way the kid snuggled impossibly closer. Traitor, Harvey thought, though he made no move to pull away.
He took Mike into the bedroom, carefully laying him down on the massive bed. Mike stirred slightly, a tiny whimper escaping his lips, but when Harvey placed a steady hand on his back, he settled. His small fingers twitched, gripping at the sheets instead of Harvey’s suit, and after a moment, he relaxed once more.
Harvey lingered for a second longer than necessary, watching as the kid breathed evenly, his face soft in sleep.
Then, finally, he stood up and walked back to the living room.
Jessica and Donna had already started unpacking. Donna was sorting through the clothes they’d bought, while Jessica went through the essentials—food, toiletries, all the things they’d had to grab in a rush.
Harvey ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he sat down. "Alright. So what the hell do we do now?"
Jessica sighed. "First, we figure out how long this is going to last. We don’t even know if this is permanent."
"God, I hope not," Harvey muttered. "No offense, but I don’t think I’m cut out for full-time parenting."
Donna snorted. "Yeah, tell that to the kid who wouldn’t let go of you the second he realized you were there."
Harvey shot her a look. "That’s different."
"Is it?" Jessica asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re already his person."
Harvey didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew they were right. Mike—tiny, terrified, and completely lost—had latched onto him. Trusted him. And Harvey had no idea what to do with that.
The room fell into a comfortable silence as they continued sorting things out. Hours passed, the exhaustion of the day weighing on all of them.
Then—
An ear-piercing scream shattered the quiet.
Harvey was on his feet instantly, his heart slamming against his ribs. Donna and Jessica barely had time to react before he was moving, practically running to the bedroom where Mike had been sleeping.
Another scream. Choked. Terrified.
Harvey threw open the door—and his stomach dropped at the sight before him.
Mike was thrashing against the sheets, tiny hands curled into fists, his face contorted in pure, raw terror. Tears streaked his cheeks, his breathing ragged and panicked.
And then, between broken sobs, a single, desperate word:
"Harvey!"
Harvey didn't think—he just moved.
Harvey barely had time to think before he was on the bed, hands grasping Mike’s tiny shoulders as the kid screamed, his body jerking against the sheets.
"Mike!" Harvey barked, shaking him slightly. "Hey, kid, wake up!"
But Mike didn’t respond. He kept crying, his little fists clenching and unclenching, his legs kicking uselessly. His face was twisted in terror, tears streaking down his cheeks, and it was like he wasn’t here—like he was trapped somewhere else, somewhere awful.
Jessica and Donna were right behind him.
"We need to wake him up," Jessica said, kneeling beside the bed.
"No shit," Harvey snapped, but his voice lacked any real bite. He was terrified.
Donna, kneeling on the other side, pressed a gentle hand against Mike’s damp curls. "Sweetheart, you need to wake up," she cooed, her voice soft but urgent. "Come on, Mikey. Open those pretty blue eyes for us."
But the screaming didn’t stop. It only grew more frantic.
Harvey gritted his teeth and pressed his hands against Mike’s small arms, trying to still his thrashing. "Mike! It’s me, kid. You’re safe. Just wake up, alright?"
Still nothing.
Jessica reached for his hand. "Try rocking him. He’s just a baby, Harvey. He needs comfort."
Harvey swallowed hard but did as she said, pulling Mike upright and into his arms, cradling him close against his chest. He rubbed small, firm circles into his tiny back, murmuring quiet reassurances. "You’re safe. It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe. It’s just a bad dream, alright? I’ve got you."
It took minutes. Long, agonizing minutes where Mike’s screams only wavered slightly, where his tiny body trembled violently against Harvey’s chest. But finally—finally—the sobs turned into broken whimpers, then heavy, hiccupping breaths.
Harvey sighed in relief, loosening his grip just slightly. "There you go, kid. That’s it."
And then—
Mike’s eyes fluttered open.
For a split second, Harvey thought it was over. But then he really looked at him.
His pupils were dilated, his gaze unfocused, glassy. He wasn’t looking at them—he was looking through them. His tiny chest was still rising and falling way too fast, his breath still catching in broken gasps.
Something was wrong.
"Mike?" Harvey said carefully, shifting so he could see the kid’s face better. "Hey, buddy, you with me?"
Mike didn’t answer. He blinked sluggishly, his tiny body still trembling against Harvey’s. His fingers curled weakly into Harvey’s shirt, but there was no recognition in his gaze.
"He’s burning up," Jessica murmured, reaching out to touch his forehead. "Jesus, Harvey, he’s got a fever."
Harvey felt his stomach drop.
And then—
"Oh, shit," Donna muttered suddenly, sitting up straighter.
Harvey shot her a sharp look. "What?"
"He’s going to puke," she said quickly, already reaching for the trash bin beside the nightstand. "Harvey, move him—now!"
Harvey barely had time to react before Mike gagged, his tiny body heaving forward. Donna shoved the bin into Harvey’s hands just as Mike’s whole body lurched—and then suddenly, he was violently vomiting.
It was awful.
Mike sobbed between heaves, his little body jerking with every retch. Harvey kept a firm hold on him, one hand rubbing slow, steady circles into his back while the other kept the bin in place. "It’s okay, kid. Let it out."
Donna winced but kept her voice gentle. "Shh, sweetheart. It’s alright. We’ve got you."
Jessica, ever the composed one, quietly left the room, likely going to get water or a damp cloth.
Mike kept heaving until there was nothing left, until his body was too exhausted to keep going. When it finally stopped, he gave one last pitiful whimper and slumped against Harvey’s chest, utterly limp.
Harvey frowned, shifting slightly to get a better look at him. "Mike?"
No response.
Donna reached out, brushing damp curls from his forehead. "Oh, baby," she whispered. "He’s completely out of it."
And she was right. Mike’s little eyes were half-open, still glazed and distant, like he wasn’t fully there. His breathing was uneven, his face pale and sweaty, his whole body lax in Harvey’s arms.
Harvey tightened his grip, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.
"What the hell is happening to him?"