Chapter Text
The sound of Donna's voice coming through the intercom startles Harvey out of his concentration. He is bent over a stack of files that they need to get through before their meeting in an hour, Mike beside him on the sofa.
“Harvey?”
She sounds uncharacteristically uncertain, a fact that should have given him a clue that something is up, but he is too distracted to give it any thought.
“What is it?” he asks absently, flipping a page.
“There's a man here asking to see Mike. He doesn't have an appointment, but he says it's important.”
Harvey looks up to find a man in a suit in front of Donna's desk, returning his gaze steadily. He glances to Mike, who shrugs. “I don't know him.”
“Send him in,” Harvey says, putting the file down as he stands up. Mike gets to his feet as well.
“I'm Harvey Specter,” he introduces himself when the man enters, holding out his hand. “This is Mike Ross. What can we do for you?”
The man takes Harvey's hand, then Mike's. “Good to meet you, gentlemen. My name is William Carter. I'm a solicitor from the probate court. I need to speak to Mr. Ross, and I'm afraid it's rather urgent.”
“Probate court?” Mike echoes, shaking his head. “Sorry, but are you sure you've got the right Mike Ross? I don't have any family left, I don't think...”
“I'm quite sure you're the right one,” Carter says before he can find an end to that sentence. “I'm looking for one Michael James Ross, working under Harvey Specter at Pearson Hardman.”
“Well. That's me.” Mike swallows. “What is this about?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
Harvey lifts an eyebrow. The man has aroused his curiosity, but whatever this is about, it seems to be serious. He can pester Mike about it later.
Before he can suggest one of the conference rooms, Mike says, “That isn't necessary. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Harvey.”
Harvey glances at him, but Mike is looking at the solicitor. He briefly wonders if Mike wants him there as a friend or as his attorney, but the fact that he wants him there at all almost curls his lips into a smile.
The inclination fades, however, as soon as Carter speaks. “Very well then. Do you mind if we sit down for this?”
“Of course not. Please,” Harvey says with a nod towards the sofa, sobering at the grave tone of his voice. They all sit down, Carter and Harvey on either side of Mike.
“Mr. Ross,” Carter begins, opening his briefcase. Harvey eyes the file he takes out warily. “I'm here because of Carolina Arden. I assume that name means something to you?”
It takes Harvey a moment to place it, but Mike nods right away. “She was our client a few months ago. A pro bono case. She was pregnant,” he remembers. Then he frowns. “Why, what's going on with her? Is there a problem?”
“I'm sorry to tell you this, but she passed away yesterday.”
Mike's mouth falls open. He seems to struggle for words, his face a perfect display of incomprehension. “What?” he eventually gets out, his voice raspy. “But she- what happened?”
“Miss Arden was sick,” Carter explains. “She fell ill with abscess-forming pneumonia a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, her low immunity complicated the treatment. She developed acute dyspnea that the doctors were unable to help with.”
Mike blinks and stares at the cushions. Silence stretches. Harvey knows that he is trying to reconcile the news with the woman he represented, with the thought that he enabled her a better life only to now be faced with her demise instead. He also knows that he cared about her, because he cares for every client they have, but that isn't all there is to it.
Carolina Arden was special to Mike. She was his client, entirely his, and he gave his heart and soul to her case until he finally won it for her. Harvey doesn't remember the details, but he knows that Mike spent countless nights at the office until he found what he'd needed to help her. He knows that afterwards he hugged her, and she hugged him back, and he patted her swollen belly and laughed. He knows that they were more like friends than client and attorney, that her story resonated with Mike somehow.
He is sure that Mike remembers everything.
A glance sideways tells him that he is still trying to process. He doesn't seem inclined to further the conversation, so Harvey takes it upon himself to do it.
“We're sorry to hear that, of course, but that still doesn't explain why you're here.”
Carter clears his throat. “I'm getting to that. Before she died, Miss Arden left a will. Like you said, she was pregnant when you represented her.” With that he looks back to Mike, who nods numbly. “The child is six months old now. Miss Arden appointed you as her guardian, Mr. Ross.”
The statement is met with absolute silence. Rationally, Harvey understands the words perfectly, but they are too big, the implications too massive to register. Both he and Mike gape at Carter, the enormity of this development leaving even him swamped. He can only imagine what Mike is feeling.
A look at his face confirms his suspicion. Mike's lips move as if to form words, but no sounds come out. Harvey is hit with a wave of sympathy as he watches him struggle to regain even a shred of his composure.
“I don't understand,” he finally says. Harvey knows it's a lie. Mike understands perfectly. He just doesn't comprehend. Doesn't know what to do with this information. His eyes find Harvey's, wide and panicked, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost pleading. “I- Harvey?”
Harvey knows what he's doing. It's what he always does when he's out of his depth, when he's in need of support. He turns to Harvey for guidance.
So Harvey does what he always does when Mike needs his help. He gives it, no questions asked.
"It's fine, Mike," he says, even though it's the farthest thing from it. "You're okay."
Waiting until his eyes focus, he covers his hand with his, squeezing in silent support. The gentle reassurance seems to work. He keeps his hand there, a firm and constant pressure meant to ground Mike in the moment. God knows Harvey would need it in his shoes.
Mike blinks at him numbly, then shakes off enough of his stupor to speak again.
“I don't... Why did she do that?”
“I assume she felt like you were the best choice for the task,” Carter states calmly. Harvey appreciates his patience as he waits for Mike to take in the news. “She had no family. She left you a letter along with her will. I assume she explains herself in it.”
Carter opens the folder he brought and takes out an envelope. Mike accepts it wordlessly, turning it over in his hands like it's something outlandish. He seems to have recovered from the worst shock but still appears rather out of it, so Harvey takes it upon himself as his attorney as well as his friend to handle the conversation.
“What exactly does this guardianship entail?”
“As the sole guardian, Mr. Ross is responsible for the baby's well-being, including every duty a parent has to fulfill to ensure the child's health and safety, until a fit parent has been found. Miss Arden has expressed the explicit wish that he chooses her daughter's new parent, so that decision lies with him.”
“She really wanted me to do that?” Mike asks in disbelief. "I'm not just supposed to take care of her, she actually wanted me to find her a new home?"
“So it is clearly stated in her will.”
Mike stares at the envelope in his hands again and falls silent.
Harvey clears his throat. “Where is the child now?”
“She's under supervision of CPS until Mr. Ross either officially accepts his duties or transfers her care to someone else.”
Even Harvey winces at how clinical that sounds. “How long does he have to decide?”
“I understand that Mr. Ross wasn't aware of being appointed Nela Arden's guardian before my visit. Still, a decision within the day would be appreciated, since accommodations and a carer will have to be organized if he declines. There needs to be a court hearing to grant him custody of the child, which could be held today if he agrees. Once he is granted custody and signs the relevant paperwork, he can legally give up her care at any given point, should he decide not to complete the search after all.”
Harvey nods slowly. The fact that the decision doesn't have to be permanent now doesn't make it easier, he knows that. If Mike refuses, he can't take that back. If he accepts, he will find himself with a little girl – Nela, apparently – suddenly dropped into his care without the slightest warning.
He only notices that it's grown quiet in the room when Carter addresses Mike again. “Mr. Ross, I don't want to rush you, but the time slot for the court hearing that became available this morning is in an hour. I need an answer as soon as you're able to give me one.”
Mike tenses, suddenly aware of the reality of the situation. Harvey can see his throat working as he swallows. Silence stretches as the seconds tick by, and Carter discreetly checks his watch.
“Mike?” Harvey prompts gently, and Mike startles out of his stillness.
“Yeah, I- yeah.” He slowly gets up. “I'll come with you,” he tells Carter, then turns to Harvey. “Will you...” He stops, frowning, but Harvey is already on his feet, knowing without him having to ask.
“You want me to go with you?”
“I do, but I just remembered the meeting for the merger. You can't miss that.”
“Don't be silly. We can reschedule,” Harvey says, but Mike immediately shakes his head.
“No, we can't,” he declines vehemently. “It's important. It's okay, I'll be fine. You take care of the merger. Sorry I can't help,” he adds as an afterthought, eyes on the stack of files Harvey couldn't care less about at the moment.
“Stop it,” he tells him, raising his eyebrows when Mike looks at him. “I can get through it just fine without you. It's absolutely no problem to call them and set another date, but if you're sure, I'll handle it.”
“I'm sure.”
“Then I'll make it quick,” Harvey promises. “And I'll be with you as soon as I'm done.”
Mike smiles weakly. Harvey commends that he is trying to put up a brave front, never mind that he sees right through it. “It's okay. I don't- you don't need to, I just thought I'd-”
“Like me there with you, so I'll be there,” Harvey interrupts, his tone making it clear that arguing is useless. “Let me know where you are. I'll follow as soon as I can.”
Mike swallows, then nods. “I'll text you the address,” he says. His gratitude is palpable.
“Go,” Harvey says quietly, squeezing his shoulder as a final reassurance. Mike leans into it briefly before he takes a deep breath as if to brace himself.
“After you,” he tells Carter, and Harvey watches them walk away towards something of more magnitude than either of them can comprehend just yet, a bottomless sensation deep in the pit of his stomach.
* * *
Bureaucracy is evil, Mike decides. A thought that should be funny, considering what field he works in, but somehow he doesn't feel like laughing.
There are apparently countless documents relevant to a child's life and twice as many when legal guardianship is involved, and that's after the court hearing he has suffered through. At least it was short. Now he is inside Carter's office and Nela Arden's entire life is being dumped on him in the shape of more files than he can keep track of, insurances, and day cares, and he hasn't even seen the baby yet.
Mike listens and nods when it's appropriate, trying to fight down the panic threatening to rise in him with only moderate success.
He signs papers, reads through contracts, remembers to ask whether he will get to adopt her existing belongings and if so when, and all the while he can't believe that this is a conversation he is actually having.
He is going to take a child in. A helpless, orphaned baby he has never even seen before, who is all his responsibility now.
Sounds like him, ending up with a child without even getting laid.
A hysterical giggle rises in him and he does his best to prevent it from escaping, the rational part of his brain remarking that they might withdraw the guardianship from him if he acts like a maniac. And no matter how desperately unprepared he feels, that can't happen. The thought is sobering, and he finds himself focusing on the endless litany of what he should and shouldn't, can't or must do.
An undue amount of relief washes over him when Carter's secretary interrupts them at one point to show Harvey inside, just in time to prevent what feels like a full-blown panic attack. Mike has no idea what time it is, but he knows that it's still too early for him to logically be here. It must have been the fastest merger of Harvey's life, but there are no signs of the usual smugness after a win on his face.
“How did it go?” Mike asks as he sits down beside him. Harvey glances at him in confusion, so he clarifies, “The meeting.”
Harvey's expression turns incredulous before he shakes his head. “Fine. All done with. Don't worry about that now.”
“Right.”
Carter clears his throat and continues. They are almost through now, but there always seems to be one more thing to discuss.
Harvey just sits and listens, barely intercepting, but somehow his mere presence takes a massive weight off Mike's shoulders. It's his calm, steady manner, a reliable and soothing constant Mike can cling to. He knows he shouldn't, that it's dangerous to lean on Harvey with the feelings he has been harboring for him, but he can't find it in him to deny himself the indulgence when he is this close to losing it.
And then, finally, the negotiations are done. Carter closes the folder and gets up to see them off, and Harvey's hand is on his back to steer him out of the door, and then they are driving somewhere, Harvey's presence by his side a given, to pick up the baby he is going to take in.
It's all a bit of a blur, and it doesn't really sink in until Mike finds himself with a wriggling bundle in his arms, making little wailing sounds that instantly send him into a state of alarm.
He stares at her tiny face, skewed with effort, and his heart nearly falls out of his chest.
“Shit,” he whispers.
“Language,” Harvey chides him gently, but Mike can tell from his voice that he shares the sentiment. A quick glance at his face confirms that the mask has slipped. Harvey's eyes are fixed on the baby. He is shaking his head slightly, and Mike can't help but breathe, “Fuck, Harvey.”
“I know.”
They both look at the little girl, whose wailing slowly ebbs away. Her skin is rosy and soft. Her hair is nothing but light brown fluff, sticking in all directions. Her eyes are closed, and Mike knows he is probably imagining it, but he thinks he can see Carolina when he looks at her.
“Nela,” he tries out her name, and suddenly it's real.
He is going to take this baby home. His knees threaten to give in, feeling weaker than the added weight of approximately seven and a half kilograms warrants.
At the moment she is quiet, nothing but a warm bundle in his arms, but he knows with absolute certainty that she is going to turn everything upside down.
Because this is a life he is holding in his hands. A real, breathing, human life. This little girl is flesh and bone, nothing like the abstract concept Mike found himself contemplating earlier. She's real. She is going to grow, to develop, to change. She is going to have needs, demands, wishes and hopes and fears, everything that makes up a person.
And now Mike is going to be the one to guide her. The one who takes care of her, who is responsible for her life, for keeping this little human being happy and safe and fed. He will hold her, comfort her when she's scared, sing to her when she's upset, encourage her when she learns and help her when she needs it until someone better comes along.
He tries to imagine himself in that role and nearly staggers at the dread flooding his guts in response. How can he do this? How can anyone ever do this?
He inhales sharply, staring at her face. He raises his finger to trace her arm with the barest of pressure, swallowing at the warmth of her tender skin. Her features make her look like a doll when she sleeps, almost unreal, like she was cut from marble instead of flesh and blood, but he knows it's an illusion. She is so alive that it makes his breath catch in his throat.
When Mike looks back up after a small eternity, at least Harvey has pulled himself together. His expression is one of gentle patience instead of mild panic, and Mike wills himself to adopt his stance.
A deep breath escapes him as he glances down at the baby, mercifully still for now. Mike knows it isn't going to last.
“I'm really doing this.”
“It appears so.”
They both stand there for another minute until they become aware of their surroundings again, realizing that they are probably in the way and definitely drawing attention.
“If you're ready,” Harvey prompts gently, and Mike shakes off his stupor.
“Yeah, ready,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath.
“Come on,” Harvey says, carrying the bag with Nela's few supplies with an air of normalcy Mike can only hope to achieve one day. “Let's get you home.”
* * *
The apartment is the same as he left it, but Mike looks at it with completely fresh eyes when he steps through the door with a fussing baby in his arms. Already he tries to reorganize his furniture in a way that will allow him to store all the things he will need for Nela, feeling anxiety creeping in his stomach at the screamingly obvious lack of space.
He looks up when he catches a movement from the corner of his eye, momentarily distracting him. Harvey is shrugging out of his jacket, carelessly throwing it over a chair as he eyes the place.
“You're staying?” Mike asks, not having it in himself to be embarrassed by how hopeful he sounds.
Harvey just gives him a look as if to say, why did I even hire you if you have to ask stupid questions like that?
Mike smiles tentatively, nodding once to convey his gratitude, and he thinks he can see Harvey's lips pulling up as well before he turns away.
“Tell me what you absolutely don't want to be moved around. We'll start from there.”
A weight lifts from Mike's chest. He grabs a blanket from the sofa and gently places Nela on the ground, then rids himself of his jacket as well while Harvey rolls up his sleeves.
“The bed has to stay where it is, it's the only angle it'll fit. And that shelf over there is attached to the wall, so we shouldn't move it unless we have to.”
Harvey nods, and they get to work. It takes a lot of coordination and moving around, but they keep at it until they get it right, and Mike doesn't even notice that Harvey never mentions going back to work until it's already dark outside. He swallows against the lump in his throat, vowing to work extra hard once the dust has settled to show how thankful he is for the time Harvey is investing in him. It's not the first time by far that Harvey has put him above the work, has helped him out of one of his messes – though he really can't take the blame for this one. Mike knows that they are long past the stage of I only care about you as a reflection of me, but knowing and being shown time and time again is something entirely different.
It's dangerous, the way it makes him feel when Harvey does something like this. It's a thin line he's treading, and sometimes it feels like Harvey is hellbent on blurring it further. And Mike, deep down in his self-destructive heart, doesn't want him to stop.
He shakes the thought off as soon as he becomes aware of it. He has enough on his plate as it is, so he swallows and tears his eyes from the man currently rearranging his desk to take in the room instead.
He doesn't even have any of Nela's furniture yet, and his apartment already looks too cluttered. Well, nothing to be done about that. At least there is a little space now. He will just have to make do. It's not like he's never had to wing it before. He should be an expert by now.
“Do you want to put this anywhere or just leave it out for now?” Harvey interrupts his thoughts, pointing at the pile of baby supplies they brought home. “I suppose she's going to need all that sooner or later,” he says, seeming slightly puzzled as he looks at the items. It almost makes Mike smile.
“It's probably best if you leave it out,” he agrees, glancing at Nela on her blanket. She slept for a while earlier but her eyes are moving around the ceiling now, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the peaceful silence inevitably ends.
They continue pushing around a few things and making space where there shouldn't be any. Nela does start to whine at one point and Mike practically bolts to her blanket and gathers her in his arms, feeling awkward and immobile as he tries to shush her. Harvey catches his eyes and gives him an encouraging nod, and though Mike is certain that he isn't much more experienced with children than him, it's reassuring to have his approval.
It's gotten late while they converted Mike's apartment into something remotely resembling a place suitable for a baby, and they have pretty much moved everything that can be moved. Mike is tired to his bones, endlessly rocking a fussing but slightly calmer Nela in his arms, and though he can't imagine that Harvey feels much better, he doesn't seem inclined to leave.
Then Nela cries out again and Mike, noting that she is probably hungry, goes to prepare the first bottle of his life. Harvey hovers behind him, straightening out things here and there, then watches in silence as Mike clumsily feeds Nela.
He holds the bottle to her lips awkwardly, not quite knowing how to start, but she takes care of that for him. She accepts the bottle immediately, sucking so earnestly that she grunts with effort, and for a moment Mike is afraid that she is going to choke, but she seems to know what she's doing. It's fascinating to watch, to see one of the things she just knows how to do instinctively without ever having to learn it. Both Harvey and Mike look at her as she drinks, letting out little sighs in between her sips. There's a strangely intimate air to the moment, and Mike doesn't dare raise his eyes from Nela, feeling Harvey's presence nearby acutely.
When she's done Mike puts the empty bottle in the sink, and Harvey gets up to push a few stuffed toys on the sofa around, and then they both have to admit that there isn't anything else for him to do.
“Alright,” Harvey sighs. Mike tries not to look as alarmed as he feels. He was doing fine while Harvey was there to offer a distraction, but the prospect of being alone with this baby scares the living daylights out of him. “I suppose I should leave you to it.”
“Right.” Mike swallows. “Thanks for your help today, Harvey. I don't know what I would have done without you.”
He thinks that words can't convey how grateful he is to have had him by his side on what is easily in the top three of the most trying days of his life. But Harvey's expression tells him that he understands anyway.
“Don't mention it.” He grabs his jacket, then looks around one last time. “The proofs I gave you to have ready by Monday-”
“Oh, shit. Right. Uh, I'll take care of that when I-”
“Forget about them,” Harvey interrupts, shaking his head. “Seriously, Mike, take the weekend off. Don't even think about work. This is more important.” He pauses. “If you need Monday off too-”
“The weekend is fine,” Mike hurries to assure him. “I'll be there on Monday, 8 am sharp.” He appreciates the offer, but the mere thought of spending the entire weekend with this child is making him want to crawl under the covers and hide from the world, let alone a whole extra day. He needs to keep up a semblance of routine, of normalcy, or he is going to lose it. Besides, Nela is registered at a day care. He figures that the familiar environment will be good for her too.
Harvey nods slowly. “Alright.” He doesn't question Mike's motivation, can maybe guess what's behind his vehemence, and for that Mike is grateful. It's comforting, in a moment of utter chaos and change in his life, to still be understood without words. Harvey has always been good at that, too good at times, but today Mike can only be glad about it.
He watches in silence as Harvey slips into his jacket, and part of him wants to yell at him not to go, but he just stands there, awkwardly rocking Nela back and forth.
“Mike,” Harvey says when he is already at the door, turning around again. He watches him intently, his forehead creased in a frown. “Call me if you need me. Anything.”
I need you, Mike thinks. “Alright, thanks,” he manages to say, his voice only slightly hoarse. Harvey's eyes linger on him before he nods. And then he's gone, and it feels like he has taken all the air out of the room with him.
Mike is left standing in the middle of his suddenly too full apartment, holding a fussing baby in his arms that isn't going to content itself with a stranger holding it for much longer.
As if sensing his spiking nervousness Nela's face screws up, all lines and a furious blush, and a moment later she is crying.
“Oh no, no, you're okay, you're fine,” Mike murmurs, but he doesn't seem to do much good. Nela cries louder, her voice surprisingly strong for such a small person, and Mike can feel himself breaking into a sweat as he tries to shift her into a comfortable position. “Oh god, here we go. Calm down. You're okay. Please, calm down.”
He holds her up so her head rests on his shoulder, humming a calming melody, but Nela keeps struggling and yelling right by his ear.
“Are you still hungry? Thirsty? Do you need a new diaper?” He lifts her and sniffs her bottom, but doesn't smell anything. Thank god for small mercies.
“No, it's not that, is it?” He sighs. “You just miss your mom, don't you?”
Nela whimpers into his shoulder, gasping for air in between her wailing. She seems to be working herself into a proper state, and there is nothing Mike can do to stop it.
“Yeah,” he murmurs helplessly. “I know the feeling.”
Nela doesn't seem inclined to let that comfort her. She just cries on and on, the sound seeming to get louder and more jarring with every passing second, so Mike only sighs and does his best to calm her. He alternates between speaking in a low voice and humming nursery rhymes, but it's futile. She doesn't know him any more than he knows her, or what gives her comfort. She isn't familiar with his scent or his voice, so of course Mike isn't the right one to calm her down.
But he's going to have to be. They will both have to learn that.
“It takes time,” Mike murmurs to himself, repeating it like a mantra until he almost believes it. It helps to at least push down the panicked emotions that have been simmering in him ever since Carter entered Harvey's office earlier. God, has it really only been a few hours since his life turned upside down? He feels worn out and tired, overwhelmed by the new impressions of the day and the screaming baby drooling on his shoulder.
Time essentially loses meaning as he paces his apartment, feeling his arms going sore and then numb as he switches Nela back and forth, trying to find a position that works for her. He never realized how heavy babies get when you hold them for longer than five minutes, which is probably because that's something he has never done before today.
It takes almost two hours before Nela has cried herself to sleep, and she isn't the only one who could pass out from exhaustion by then. Mike is almost scared to put her down, not having the slightest clue how deeply babies sleep, but if he doesn't he is going to faint where he stands soon.
He mumbles a silent note of thanks when she sleeps through being put to bed (bed meaning the seat he carried her in earlier, since her crib won't arrive until the next day). He sighs, cursing his lack of extended family for never preparing him for this, and then drops down on the sofa and, for what feels like the first time in hours, breathes.
His eyes are fixed on the sleeping baby until he can't look at her anymore, his mind going in circles. He gets up, only remembering to put some food into himself when he sees Nela's abandoned bottle in the sink. He didn't even realize how hungry he was until he is shoveling leftover pasta into his mouth without bothering to heat it up.
How did he end up in this situation when only this morning his biggest problem was how he was going to get Harvey through the merger with minimal extortion?
His eyes fall on the stack of files he abandoned on the table earlier. The corner of the envelope Carter gave him peeks out from underneath the papers, still sealed. He hasn't gotten the chance to open Carolina's letter yet, and while part of him is desperate to find out what she had to say, he is reluctant to read it. As if opening the letter is going to make this any more real.
He exhales slowly, then grabs a drink and pulls the envelope out of the stack. He settles on the sofa, turning it over before opening it.
The letter is handwritten. Mike doesn't know why, but it's that detail that knocks all the air out of his lungs. He takes a deep breath before squaring his shoulders, then makes himself read it. The words blur before his eyes, if from exhaustion or emotion he doesn't know.
Dear Mike,
I hope you never see this letter, but if you're reading this then I suppose something bad happened to me. In that case, there's something I need to ask of you. I am so, so sorry to put this on you, but I'll try to explain myself in this letter, and hopefully you will understand.
You'll have been told by now, but I appointed you Nela's legal guardian in the case of my death. No, that was not a mistake, I am not drunk as I write this, and yes, I am absolutely sure. You're probably asking yourself why I chose you. The answer is pretty straightforward. It's because of who you are, Mike. Because of the way you handled my case, the way you fought for me, and the person I saw in you during that time.
After you won my case, you told me that if there was anything else you could do for me, I shouldn't hesitate to ask. And I know people say that sometimes to be nice, not really meaning anything by it, but I've gotten to know you a little, and I know that when you said that, you meant it.
So I realize this is a huge favor I'm asking of you. Please, don't be afraid. It's scary, I know that. You wouldn't believe how scared I was before Nela was born. I was alone. I thought I couldn't do it. Having responsibility for another life was so intimidating that I just wanted to hide forever.
Then I got Nela. And she is beautiful, Mike. She's so beautiful. She is pure magic. I looked at her and I suddenly knew what I was doing this for, what I was going to work my ass off for to ensure I could keep her happy and safe. I know it won't be the same for you – and I'm not asking that of you – but trust me. Give it a chance. It's terrifying, taking care of another person that is so dependent on you, but it's also so, so rewarding. She'll make you want to rise to the challenge.
That being said, I understand completely if you're at a point in your life where taking in a child is not actually manageable. Or if you just don't want to, for whatever reason. That's why I'm not asking you to take her in forever, no matter how much I'd want that. I'm just asking you for some time. It's not easy, I'm not going to lie about that. But if you're reading this and you didn't immediately think that what I'm asking of you is impossible, then just hear me out and think about it.
You're probably intimidated by the thought of having to take care of a child. Trust me, all new parents are. But don't let that stop you. If you're worried about getting it wrong, then believe me when I say that I don't think you will. If you refuse for personal reasons, I understand, but please, don't do it because you don't believe in yourself. This is a big decision, and I think you know me well enough to understand that I didn't make it lightly. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think you were the right person for it.
You were there for me when I needed it the most, and you were there for Nela before she was even born. Thank you for that. Now please be there for her again if you can. If you can't, then I know it'll still be in her best interest, and I thank you for that too.
Regardless of whether you decide to take her in or not, I want to ask this of you: find her a new home, Mike. I wouldn't trust anybody else with this. Please find her someone who's going to love her and let her be who she is, whoever that may be. That's all I'm asking. I'm leaving the rest up to you. I trust you implicitly, and I have complete faith that you will make the best decision for Nela.
Thank you.
Carolina
The paper shakes in Mike's grip when he lowers it. He doesn't even blink as the tears gather in his eyes. He knew that he and Carolina had gotten along, knew that she was thankful to him, and he was happy to have been able to help. He even thought of her now and then, wondering how she and the baby were holding up. But never would he have expected her to see him the way she apparently did – as someone good enough to take care of her daughter when she couldn't do it herself.
It fills him with pride, and with sorrow, and a strange sense of gratitude, and he doesn't stop the tears from falling as he leans back on the sofa, closing his eyes. He wishes he could talk to his Grammy, or even his parents, but they haven't been part of his life for such a long time that the thought only brings about a small wave of melancholy. There is someone else he wants to talk to though, someone he could reach out to if he just picked up the phone.
He knows Harvey would listen. He knows he would come back and stay.
He doesn't call.
The situation is difficult enough as it is. And he knows deep down that this is something he has to get through alone, at least in the beginning, which he tells himself will be the hardest part. It's his life, his mess. No point in dragging Harvey into it.
Mike rubs his eyes and considers just passing out right there on the sofa for a good five minutes before he can convince himself to start acting like a responsible adult. He heaves himself up and into the bathroom, only casting one glance at the exhausted reflection and puffy eyes looking back at him in the mirror before switching off the lights.
He stops on his way to check on Nela, watching her small chest rise and fall for a while.
“I have an actual living, breathing baby in my apartment,” he murmurs. Saying it out loud makes it even more surreal. He just shakes his head and goes to bed.
Naturally, as soon as he is between the sheets he's wide awake. He tries breathing exercises and lying completely still, then attempts to force his body to sleep by sheer force of will, which only keeps him more awake. He tosses and turns endlessly as the hours progress, barely closing his eyes, jumping at every sound Nela makes in her sleep.
He only registers having drifted off when he startles awake because of Nela's crying at the crack of dawn, and he is out of bed and stumbling towards her before he knows it.
“Hey,” he murmurs, picking her up gently. She whimpers, streaks of tears on her face, and Mike rests her head on his shoulder and shushes her as he starts rocking back and forth. “It's alright. You're alright.”
He soon realizes that it's high time for his official first diaper change, and after he more or less masters that particular task, he decides that since they are both up, they could do with some breakfast. He prepares the bottle, feeling the strange urge to talk to Nela and fill the silence throughout.
“I can't imagine that's very tasty,” he remarks, shaking the bottle when he has finished. “But then I don't suppose you taste things the same way I do.”
Nela is giving him a befuddled look. Mike doesn't blame her.
She stays quiet just long enough for him to feed her, and he has barely settled down with a bowl of Cheerios before her lip starts quivering and her cries fill the air again.
Mike suppresses a sigh, dropping his spoon into the bowl as he goes to pick her up. She pushes her body away from him, crying louder, and the message is as clear as any Mike has ever received.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he murmurs, trying to soothe her by running a steady hand up and down her back. “I know you want your mom. I know you miss her. I'm sorry I can't make it better.”
It hits him just how bad he feels for her, this tiny girl who only had one parent to begin with and now has nobody at all, nobody but Mike to look after her.
“It's gonna be like this for a while, if missing someone as a baby is anything like it is when you're older,” he tells her quietly. “Trust me, I know what it feels like. Really sucks, doesn't it? Difference is, you're young enough to forget all about this.” He halts, imagining having no memories of his parents, having grown up without ever knowing them. “I'm just not sure if that's a good thing or not.”
Nela continues to wet his shoulder, having given up trying to get away from him and instead grudgingly seeking comfort from the touch. He lets her cry, humming softly as he paces the room, wishing he had even the first idea what to do.
He doesn't know how much time has passed when her crying eventually turns into a whimpering, and Mike decides it's safe to put her back in her seat and have breakfast since he can't see her calming down completely in the near future. The cereal is nothing but a damp mash by now, but he swallows it down in record time in case Nela demands his attention again.
She doesn't really fall silent until he distracts her by playing the same nursery rhyme on YouTube on repeat – it's the fourth one he has tried – and even then she looks miserable. Mike's heart breaks a little for her, and he realizes that this is going to be harder on him than he initially thought. He hasn't even taken the emotional aspect of this into consideration. He is hit by a sudden wave of yearning for someone to be there and comfort him, to take the weight of this responsibility from his shoulders, if only for a little while.
To keep himself from thinking too much about things he doesn't want to go into right now – or calling Harvey – he moves around and cleans up the surprisingly big mess he has produced since yesterday, making peace with the fact that he is never going to get that nursery rhyme out of his head again.
The morning passes slowly. As soon as he deems it acceptable, Mike makes a call to set up the delivery of Nela's furniture to his apartment. Since Nela was Carolina's only family and she appointed Mike her guardian, he is also inheriting all of her belongings. Taking Nela's stuff is a given, but there are more things he wants to keep for her, things that will give her an idea about who her mother was when she's older. He packs up Nela in several layers, having no idea what the appropriate clothing for a baby in early January is and figuring that she'd rather sweat than be cold, and heads to the address he was given to meet the people in charge.
Carolina wasn't rich, and the place she lived in is even smaller than Mike's apartment. He puts Nela on a blanket on the ground and rolls up his sleeves, then goes through her belongings. It takes tragically little time to sort everything out, and by the end of it he finds himself staring at the small collection of items he chose to keep.
Her laptop and a camera's memory card, a book from her night table, two photographs of an elderly couple from the kitchen wall, a stuffed bunny that Mike assumes was Carolina's, some well-worn shirts and a perfume bottle with the scent she always used to leave behind, and two notebooks, one of them only half filled.
Just a pile of clutter to sum up a human life.
It bugs him that this is all he will be able to hand over to Nela's new parents, for her to possess when she is old enough. He can't exactly pride himself on having known Carolina well - they did get along, but their connection was brief and barely scratched the surface of who she was. He is still stumped that he apparently left enough of an impression for her to put her daughter's life into his hands, but trusting each other doesn't mean that either of them knew all the little quirks and details that make up someone's character.
But Mike got to know something – her kindness, her faith in the good winning out, her stubborn refusal to back down from what she felt was right – and the sad pile before him makes him even more determined to preserve that impression. It's the least he can do.
He takes a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he puts the items into a box, allowing himself another moment of silence.
It's a good thing he does, because Nela starts crying on their way home, earning him a few pitiful looks from the movers as they unload her stuff in the middle of his apartment. There isn't anywhere else for it to go, really.
She continues her wailing as Mike feeds her, baths her, sings to her, carries her, and finally puts her down when he realizes that nothing is going to make it better at the moment and he might as well start unpacking and trying to regain a sense of order amidst this chaos.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of diapers, bottles and crying that eventually grows more infrequent, if due to exhaustion or her finally accepting his presence, Mike doesn't know. Not that he actually cares right now. He immediately slumps on the sofa and takes a nap whenever he gets the chance, which does nothing for his sleeping rhythm but at least keeps him upright when Nela decides to cry away the better part of the night.
The hours bleed into each other, and in between long stretches of silence and tidying up what he can before Nela has him on his toes again, it's suddenly Sunday night. Mike couldn't say what he's spent all weekend doing if he were under oath. He is more exhausted than he can ever remember feeling, and his working hours don't exactly leave him well rested either. He almost looks forward to going back to work tomorrow, to at least pretend that some things are still normal.
The fact that he will get to see Harvey after what feels like much longer than a weekend does play into it as well.
Before that, he first needs to get through the night though. And Nela seems determined to take her sweet time with crying herself to sleep. Mike has been going in circles for over an hour, his voice already hoarse from singing. He keeps doing it anyway, since it at least has an almost meditative effect on him, if not on Nela.
It's minutes later, maybe hours, that she finally calms down enough to slump against his shoulder, her wet face pressed into the crook of his neck. Her little fists are balled up around his shirt, holding on tightly.
Mike feels the weight of her body against his chest, resting his cheek on her head as he rubs her back. He murmurs gentle assurances to her as he closes his eyes, allowing himself to just be there and breathe. For the first time, the touch is for him as much as it is for her, to reassure and support and help in the only way they know, the most basic connection between two living beings.
They remain this way for a long time, drawing silent comfort from each other.