Harvey was lounging on the bed now, scribbling a little note on his script. He barely glanced up at Tim as he began to hang his Orange wardrobe in the sliver of a closet.

“This scene is full of contradictions,” Harvey noted aloud. “But it’s real, right? It’s good.”

“Right,” Tim agreed, pulling out the clothes he’d worn to work that morning. “Loyalty, betrayal... they’re both equally true but yeah, contradictory.”

“Let’s play with the contradictions,” suggested Harvey. “Come over here a minute. Just stay like that, don’t get dressed.” He tucked the script underneath his thigh.

Tim’s arm was halfway into his shirtsleeve when he paused. “I see where this is going and I’m not going to expose myself to you, Harvey,” he jested, even as he slipped his shirt back off his arm, replacing it on the hanger in the closet. It was only a half-joke. If Harvey wanted him to touch down into his own vulnerability for the sake of character work, he would indulge him. Made sense. Couldn’t hurt. He tightened the towel around his skinny waist and regarded the narrow bed that Harvey had settled onto so comfortably, seeming to take up as much space as possible. “Where do you want me?”

“Same as usual. Is that okay with you?”

Of course it was okay. Even if it wasn’t, it still would have been. But: “There’s no space,” was the honest truth. “I don’t really know the blocking yet.” And then: “I’m kinda tired.” All disclaimers as to why he was about to do a bad job.

“Let’s just talk this through,” Harvey suggested, his body still totally open. “It’s a big one to dive into cold tomorrow.”

Even though Tim did kind of prefer to ‘dive in cold’ in cases like these, he didn’t want his hesitation to expose his insecurity, so he walked over and bent one knee against the foot of the mattress. In the draft he’d read originally, White dumped Orange onto a mattress instead of that ramp he now called home. He still wasn’t sure exactly why that set piece had disappeared, but knowing it had been there at some point made it a little easier to climb onto the bed with Harvey.

“I feel like Orange wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye for this,” Tim said. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but Harvey helped him settle in between his legs with confident, guiding hands. Tim had spent enough time in Harvey’s lap now that it was pretty comfortable. His jeans and t-shirt felt completely different from the suit, though. Especially now that Tim’s back was bare. If vulnerability was what Harvey was getting at, he got got to it.

“I think it could go either way,” said Harvey, resting his hand on Tim’s head. “We’ll see what our man says tomorrow. But I think I agree with you there, the eye contact is a bit much at this point.”

“Contradictions,” Tim reminded him, not trying to rush it but wanting to get some sleep eventually.

“Yes. So... here’s my thinking.” His thumb traced back and forth across Tim’s forehead absently, like it was normal. “White draws his gun.” Harvey lay his fist across Tim’s chest. “What’s your response to that? You, as Tim, what would you do?”

“Run away,” he admitted, staring at the mini refrigerator across the little room, wondering if there was anything left to eat in it. Not seeing Harvey’s face in this position really had a different feeling from their earlier scenes together. “Or if I was shot fulla holes, roll away I guess.”

“But this relationship is full of contradictions, so?” Harvey pressed his index and forefingers into Tim’s cheek like it was the gun. But a gun was cold and Harvey was warm.

“He doesn’t wanna run,” Tim mumbled, feeling incredibly tired and far too comfortable. “He feels the gun and... Hm.” He reaches his arms up and back, clasping his hands down on Harvey’s thick, firm biceps. “He asks for it.” Tim ran a hand down Harvey’s arm and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, pressing the finger-gun harder to his cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” Harvey said, still stroking Tim with his thumb, probably oblivious to how soothing the simple gesture was. Harvey dropped his invisible gun and picked up a piece of paper, holding it at Tim’s chest so they could both read. It was the last page.

Tim read aloud: “Mr. White looks up, smiles, and pulls the trigger.”

“I don’t see White smiling about this, do you?”

Tim shook his head. “Well,” he added suddenly, just to play the devil’s advocate. “It’s filmic. I can see it...” Harvey was right. “But I don’t feel it, no.”

“Unless he’s completely fucking insane, it makes no sense. He’s been very emotionally honest so far. I mean, smiling about this is a contradiction that just doesn’t jive for me.”

“Are you telling me we get tears tomorrow?” Tim grinned, fighting the urge to look back and up at Harvey’s face. “Shall I bring my umbrella?”

“You’ll get what you get and you’ll deal with it,” Harvey assured him.

Tim laughed. It was true. He would deal with whatever Harvey threw at him, and the man knew it.

“I think he really loves this kid.” Harvey sent the sheet of paper floating to the floor.

“I know he does,” Tim said, fighting a yawn. “The feeling’s mutual.” He dropped his arms and clasped his hands over his stomach. The rise and fall of Harvey’s chest behind him was too easy to get used to.

“I thought you’d be more inclined to leave it at respect.” He spoke as if the nature of their characters’ bond wasn’t common knowledge.

Tim shrugged. “Respect doesn’t make you suicidal,” he pointed out. “Does Orange really think White’s going to do it?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Orange. Do you think I intend to shoot?” Harvey was playing with pronouns, but he wasn’t doing White. He was still just Harvey.

“Yes,” said Tim. He brought his arms back up around Harvey again to see how it felt. He was an anchor. “But it doesn’t matter as long as it’s Harvey’s decision. I mean White’s decision. Whatever.” He reluctantly tilted his head back and looked up at Harvey when the man didn’t give him a response right away.

“There’s a difference, kiddo.” Harvey’s eyes narrowed a little in what appeared to be equal parts amusement and concern.

“I guess.”

Harvey laughed. “If you don’t see the difference between me and Mr. White, we may have a problem.”

“I guess I forgot.” Tim sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He let go of Harvey once more but before he could roll away, a warm hand touched his forehead, wiping his damp hair from his eyes. He settled back against Harvey’s chest and eliminated the silence with the first thing that came to mind. “Can I ask you something.”

“Yeah.”

Tim hesistated briefly. “Do you ever lose track of yourself?”

“You mean being in the moment? In a scene?”

“No...” Tim was ready to spill but he managed to hang on. The project was almost over. He’d be fine soon. “Forget it, nevermind.”

“Get it out.” Harvey spoke in that stern yet open voice that was impossible to debate. He slid down a little, getting more comfortable, his jaw making contact with the side of Tim’s head.

Tim chewed his lip a moment, looking down at his bare feet in between Harvey’s shoes. “I don’t know when I’m me and when I’m not.” He felt like he was on autopilot. “When my thoughts are my own. I’m not even sure if I’m really here. I know I am, physically, but...”

“Well that’s Orange’s dilemma, isn’t it? In part?” He continued to stroke Tim’s hair leisurely as he moved his other hand down to his arm.

“It’s not just this movie though, it’s the whole acting thing.” He tried to laugh it off, like he knew he was being cranky and ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake it. “I literally don’t know who I am.” Tim wanted it to be a more difficult confession to make, but he was tired and they had been through too much to hold back at this point.

“I know who you are.” His voice was too low and steady to be anything other than true.

Shit. Did he really? “Other than an actor.”

“Yeah.” Harvey sighed deeply, his chest expanding and collapsing behind Tim’s shoulders. “Okay. I’m not trying to downplay what you’re going through, but you can use this. I mean, being an actor isn’t who you are, it’s just a thing you do. Just like Orange being a cop. It has certain implications. That’s all.” His hand moved up and tightened below Tim’s shoulder, obviously sensing that it wasn’t the kind of conversation he was totally interested in having, that he might walk away.

“But, so then... why would he tell White at a pivotal moment? Why would he tell him something that’s going to get him killed if it’s not really who he is?” Shit – was he overthinking it? The scene was going to be stale tomorrow if he kept going like this. He already knew the answers to his silly questions anyway. “It feels right, but I just don’t know, when I start thinking about it, do I really understand it?”

“Come on.” He gave Tim’s arm a squeeze. “I know you know this stuff.” Harvey was clearly trying to be patient. “Stop backtracking.”

“If you know, and you know that I know, then what the fuck are we doing this for?” Tim shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just really tired and I don’t wanna suck the life out of the scene. I wanna to stop thinking now. I have to get some sleep. I can’t work on the scene tonight, I’m really sorry.” He covered his face with his hands and felt himself fade into Harvey’s body.

“Why are you sorry?” His hand on Tim’s arm was gentle, but heavy and encouraging.

“I can’t be fake right now. I can’t do the acting thing. I need to just... stop being an actor for a second.”

Harvey chuckled. “For someone who doesn’t like method work, it sure likes you.”

“Right.” Tim laughed weakly. “My role is a metaphor for my life. Genius. Never occurred to me.” It had, in fact, been the reason he’d campaigned for the role. It was easy to forget about that when it started getting really real. He’d asked for this.

“You said it, not me,” Harvey teased defensively.

“Whatever.” He tried to find the strength to peel himself away, but he couldn’t. “I’ll buy the metaphor, you figured me out, just don’t shoot me.” Truth be told, he might let him.

“Nah.” Harvey smiled against Tim’s hair. “I figured you out a long time ago. No surprises.”

“You don’t think I could surprise you?” Tim was uncomfortable with that. He didn’t like that someone else seemed to know more about him than he knew about himself. Somehow Harvey knew he was okay with being held for no good reason. More than okay... maybe Harvey knew he needed it. Who the hell was he going to talk to after they wrapped in a few days?

“That’s not to say you aren’t a complex and interesting character,” Harvey amended generously. “I’m just saying, I’ve been down this road. You’ll figure it out.”

“I just don’t know what I want.”

“Yes you do.” Harvey voice was a note above a whisper. His hands was still in Tim’s hair, the other at his arm, but they had stilled. He was holding him there so confidently that Tim wondered if he would let him get up and walk away if he chose to. But why would he want to walk away?