(lots of drama in this one!! my intention for my next harvey post is to write him back in Chicago in a hospital bed and imply that when Davis couldn't get him to wake up from his episode they all left early to get him back to the hospital to get looked at. Feel free to write your post in FL or back at THS or both :)))

Today should be the day you start living. She had said it so confidently. It was almost agitating sometimes, that shapeless confidence. It filled up every environment she was placed in like sand in a jar. His eyes held something different, something boyish, after that last remark. He began to acknowledge her likeness to himself once more, though if she had been anyone else he would have changed his own behavior out of arrogance and spite.

He put the bottle of scotch down. He had been staring at his own feet, but his gaze had momentarily wandered to hers. She was wearing flip flops. He stifled his own laugh, then he did laugh at himself.

“There’s your smile.”

He watched her bashedly, self-conscious of his smile. It had been so long since he had smiled, something about the vulnerability of it or the fact that he thought it made his face look ugly. Even still, even here, trapped in a moment of hopelessness so drab it shifted to nonchalance, he felt himself slipping. He was still tied to life and tied to death the same, and the further apart they pulled him the more it ripped at the limbs of his soul. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, how he was supposed to act. He wished someone would tell him, because he could easily feel any emotion. Except, she had just told him how to feel: alive. And he still chose to feel nothing.

The moments that followed were accompanied by the kind of silence only created upon mutual understanding. Harvey had quieted himself in the way of words, but his body language remained loud. He had wiped his tears away in a way that was reticence incarnate, discreet and fearing vulnerability. He hid behind the bottle of scotch once more, holding it as if it were a weapon, a form of protection against the aching of his heart. He could see so clearly how his heartache would become hers at the moment of death, so why was she so eager to jump back in the fire? Again and again, she dove back in, begging to be burned. Was it the way the flames danced in his eyes? In hers? Was it the thrill of the danger, the chance to be scathed? Why was she begging to brand her body with signs of the burn? Maybe she wanted a souvenir to remember that it happened, that it had once existed. Maybe the only way she would face the reality of his death was by staring at it on her skin in every idle moment until the one that reunited them in whatever paradise or purgatory awaited them at last breath.

A small sigh caused him to escape his own mind, and though it came from his own lips, he felt as though his body was completely detached from his being. He had been studying her with the most amused expression glittering in his eyes, the corner of his lip curled upwards in the slightest smirk. He had been, once again, entranced by the simplicity and the absurdity of her outfit. She was hardly dressed at all in jean shorts and a t-shirt, and especially in company that was dressed for a gala. Maybe she was warranted in advising him to start living if her choices had led her to this moment.

“As your boss, it would be terribly inappropriate for me to ask you why you’re wearing casual clothing to an event such as this. However, I just can’t help myself.” The slightest corner of smile grew into something more, though he regretted the fact that it felt as though it was only because she had brought attention to it. He turned to face her, more stoic now. He studied her face with a soft, gentle concern before cupping her face in his right hand, movements careful and astonishingly delicate in comparison to the aggression monster everyone knew him to be. His eyes watched her with that same sense of care, dark and pained and holding the weight of the world without concern for the crushing weight of it.

He felt powerful, changing the emotion of the ocean air in one soft movement. It was almost like he himself was God, holding the wind and the waves in the palm of his hand. He wondered if there even was such a thing, or if God was simply the sum of unknown answers to the universe’s questions. He studied her for a moment, or perhaps it was himself he was studying. The way he let himself hold the intensity of her blue eyes, the way neither of them flinched at the other’s touch. Even the hardest clay became mush in the hands of the right potter, it seemed, though he had never been one to believe it. Then again, fate had a way of confounding Mason Harvey and all of his ‘nevers.’

“I get the nagging feeling this isn’t part of the five-year plan for becoming one of the leading doctors in your field, though.” He watched her eyes dance impatiently, turning to gaze towards the distant shore. He saw two figures walking on the beach and wondered if they were there for the convention or just locals. He turned back to her, enjoying the prolonged agony of his self-control. “Which is good, because you must have realized by now that if I had brought you here for educational purposes, the folder you received would have your name on it and not Ethan’s.”

He leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to her lips, soft and unassuming. His left hand found its place opposite his right as he kissed her again, though it was cut short by a single sound that pierced through the silence of the moment and the hum of the music playing in the distance. A camera had sounded, its flash causing Harvey to nearly jump out of his skin. Just has he had become vulnerable, his walls came up, and much higher than before. Silently and with fear he would never own up to, Harvey watched the scene before him unfold. The photographer scurried back up the hill and into the darkness while two vile pairs of eyes inspected the scene they had created with an arrogant, vile pride from the top of the hill, just barely in sight. Kate and one of his own, Dr. Valart, stood together with their arms crossed, enjoying the thrill of corrupting a man and his father’s empire with a single photograph.

“I’m gonna end her life,” he muttered under his breath, pulling away from Emilia and making large, passionate strides towards where the two women had gone, immersing themselves back into the crowd after ensuring their scheming had been successful. Only ten more hours and the doctor and his team would have been on their way back to Chicago, incident-free other than one major one: the mess that had gotten him drunk enough to kiss one of his applicants in the first place. Maybe he couldn’t blame it on the alcohol, but it sure was easier that way. As his fury escalated with the feelings of resentment and betrayal, the ailing doctor succumbed to the failure of his limbs in the sand several yards away from the dock where he had left Emilia standing. Except this time, not unlike the time before when he had received that damaging blow to his head, everything went black.

It was blinding. Everything around him and everything that existed was simply the flooding of his senses with bright fluorescent light. If it weren’t for the searing pains that ripped through his muscles and the dull throbbing of his head, he might have thought he had died and gone to heaven.

His eyes fluttered open then shut multiple times, as if he were struggling merely to control the most minute of his movements. All of his appendages felt shut down, his entire body locked down as if controlled by the force of gravity itself. He had been in a full episode of paralysis for what seemed to be minutes upon minutes following the coma, but even now it felt as though his body refused to give the control of itself back to his mind. He felt so detached from his body, more than he ever had previously.

He had been trying to speak, to question everything since his mind had awoken into that paralytic state. It was mostly quiet, but he had heard Emilia’s voice once, speaking to another doctor. He wondered if he was dreaming, if he was envisioning all of this. Maybe it was just one large hallucination. For all he knew, it could have been. It took all of his strength to lift his eyelids enough to be met with that blinding light, let alone sit up or come to a fully conscious state.

The slightest sound slipped from his lips, a gentle and incoherent mumbling, or perhaps something of a pained groan. His eyelids fluttered once more, and though he could still hardly manage this small task, he felt as though he was gaining his strength back--maybe he was just envisioning it. He wanted to believe he was, but then again, he wanted to not be dying in his thirties either.

The truth was, the man was terrified. More than anything, he prided himself on his ability to control everything and keep everything under control. That was why he had chosen cardiology. To him, it was the most controlled field of medicine he could pursue. If he made one small, uncontrolled move, someone’s life would be lost. It was the most stressful, risky, and rewarding thing he had ever done or chosen to do, and that was why he had chosen to make it his life’s work. Now he was here, in his own hospital, with no answers and no control over his own body. It made him rethink everything he knew about himself and his life.

“Davis,” he mumbled, half-coherently. He hoped she was still in the room, but there was no way for him to know. His eyelids fluttered once more as if he was trying to locate her, but they soon shut again, falling back in line with the peaceful and solemn expression on his face. He had never looked or felt closer to death.

"Hi," he said softly, in an almost light-hearted way. In his weakness and frailty, he was soft, gentle, almost affectionate. A new body would be nice, he thought, but brushed the thought away. He didn’t want to remind her of his impending death, and even if he did, he certainly didn’t have the capability of forming that extensive of a sentence in his current state. He mustered up the strength to fight to open his eyes again, but they fluttered shut. Everything felt so heavy. Movements that he had made for years without thinking twice about felt impossible now. After a few moments, he croaked, “where are we?”

Over the course of the next few days, Harvey began to feel stronger despite an exponential decrease in his general wellbeing. After three days he felt strong enough to get out of the hospital bed and was met with a service dog Ethan had procured from the ends of the Earth. He had to, considering he got the paperwork done and accepted in three days, no training sessions needed. The ailing doctor was almost completely convinced his friend stole the dog, it seemed impossible. Nonetheless, he didn’t want it.

“Why would I want more responsibility? I mean, seriously, think with your brain.” Ethan glanced amusedly towards Emilia, who he’d summoned in hopes of softening the aggression and annoyance he knew Harvey would feel toward him. Even so, he never thought he’d be so happy to see Harvey angry again. Not angry to the point of collapsing, just angry. Bratty. Rude. The Harvey he’d worked with and known for so many years. His body was not back, but his spirit sure was.

“I missed you, Harvey. Welcome back,” he smiled softly, almost forlornly. Harvey glanced to Davis, his head in his hands in an act of antagonized desperation.

“Davis, did you know he was planning this utter nonsense?” Sighing, he got up from behind his desk. “I don’t need a service dog. When I do-”

“You won’t do anything about it.” He raised his hands defensively. “But that’s your choice. Move your death sentence up.”

The afternoon fell into the evening, and the more time Harvey spent alone, the more he wondered what any of this was for. He studied the names on the letters he had written out, neatly arranged in a box on his kitchen counter. Was his death simply a result of his own foolish pride, his inability to accept help from anyone who could give it to him? Was it a result of his inability to succumb to desperation and need? He sighed gently, nursing a mystery liquid he’d found in his liquor cabinet unlabeled. It didn’t taste extremely pleasant, but he didn’t really care anymore. Nothing seemed to matter.

A knock sounded at his door at a quarter past midnight. He opened it suspiciously, wondering who would bother him at that hour. Selfishly, he considered it might have been Davis. Wishful thinking, perhaps, or the result of an unresolved moment he hadn’t been able to address with her. Over the last few days, he’d been so focused on his health that he hadn’t been able to ask her exactly what happened. He remembered how he felt, but his mind was entirely blank as to what had occurred.

“Ethan?”

“We need to talk,” he said quietly. His face demanded urgency, so Harvey let him in.

“What the hell is going on? Your face doesn’t imply that it’s good news.”

He turned to face Harvey with an unreadable expression on his face. “What the hell is going on is that you kissed Davis in front of people with cameras at a professional event.” His expression softened when he read the bewilderment and anguish in the other man’s expression. He handed him his phone, showing him countless emails addressing what he had just mentioned. Some were from the medical board, some were from the media, others were from colleagues, lawyers, and staff members. “What were you thinking? You put a target on your back and on the back of everyone who works at your hospital. Everything is under investigation, the medical board is sending out inspectors to find out if anything or anyone else has broken protocol in any way, it’s going to be a minefield. Not to mention the fact that there’s no way in hell you’re going to get through the media aspect of this trainwreck without drawing attention to your health. The world is going to have to know you’re dying now, Harvey. Either you’re going to tell the entire medical community yourself, or it’s going to be out of your hands.”

“Just give me a damn minute,” Harvey sighed softly. He stepped out onto the balcony of his penthouse, breathing in the damp air and the bright city lights. He made a phone call that Ethan couldn’t make out from inside, then returned. “I’m sending Davis to California, Lucille agreed to take her indefinitely. I’m getting my coat, I’m going by there now to tell her what’s happening.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to go?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“She kissed you for a reason.”

“Are you really spewing ‘true love’ bullshit right now? No such thing. And if I remembered any of what happened that night, I would be able to prove it.”

Within twenty minutes, Dr. Mason Harvey was storming down the halls of his hospital, searching every nook and cranny of Davis’s floor until he finally found her. He waited until she’d finished with the patient she was with, taking care not to pay attention to how well she was doing her job. If he were to stop for even a second to rethink his decision, he knew he would change his mind and make her stay, to hell with the consequences. He knew he could afford that, but he was certain his hospital couldn’t. He had to protect his father’s legacy at all costs, he had to protect the people he was leaving it to. He thought that would be her, but given the situation, he was fairly convinced he’d never see her again--at least in this lifetime. Catching her as she left the hospital room, he pulled her off into one of the more isolated stretches of hallway. “We need to talk,” he explained, “urgently.” He pulled her into an empty hospital room and shut the door for their privacy.

“Here’s the deal, Davis. I don’t remember a single thing that happened that night other than that I woke up in my own hospital asking for you until one of the nurses found you, and I don’t know why I did that or what happened between us in Florida, but I know that all of it was a huge mistake. There’s nothing I can do about a past I don’t remember, but I can certainly change the future to make the best of both of our careers. I’m sending you to California to finish this program there. It will be a change of pace for you, but I believe you’ll adjust quickly. After your shift ends tonight, I hope you will pack your things and get on a plane in the morning. Ethan is working on your travel information now and the paperwork will be ready for you when you arrive tomorrow.”

Leaving her to stew in it, Harvey left, disappearing into the elevator to his office. With any luck, she wouldn’t follow him, she’d accept it. He felt he knew her better than that by now, but he also couldn’t remember much of the last week he’d spent with her. He didn’t know her the way he did before his last episode, the Emilia that he kissed was as good as a stranger to him. He wondered if he’d recover any of those memories, or if they were gone forever. Not knowing what happened was killing him almost as much as the knowledge that he had to send away their best new doctor because of a lapse in judgement he had made impulsively. Now completely angry with himself, Harvey exited his office, prepared to go home and continue packing up the few things he’d left out. His apartment was in shambles, all boxed up as if he were already dead. He would continue to do that until nothing was left in any cabinet, on any shelf, or anywhere else. The stress of this made him want to die faster, but it also made him want to live to fight for what was so incredibly important to himself and his father. He would not ruin the legacy of his father’s hospital because of one kiss, he couldn’t. Especially not one he couldn’t remember in his fragile state.

He pressed the buttons on the elevator multiple times, but it was taking too long to get there, so he decided to take the stairs. The massive brooding, emotional mess he was sitting in had threatened to bubble over for quite some time, but the minor convenience of the elevator finally caused him to lose control of himself. As he descended the second flight, his body went numb, followed by his mind. All he could remember was hitting his head on the stairs as he fell, and the strange feeling of the blood leaking out of a gash in a body he barely felt connected to as he lost consciousness.