all the way home
May. 17th, 2013 05:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tattooedsirenTitle: all the way home
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: "I heard what happened," Jessica says.
Harvey nods but avoids her gaze. He figured the Bar Association would report the outcome of their meetings, that Mike had fooled Harvey and all of Pearson Hardman into thinking he was qualified when he wasn't, that Harvey had testified that he had no idea Mike was a fraud. The lie had tasted so bitter on his tongue, and he never imagined lying under oath in this way. He could stomach perjuring himself to protect Mike, but lying to denounce him made his skin crawl.
Authors Notes:This was written during the season two hiatus, so just ignore everything that happened in the last six eps.
I wanna give a big shout out to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
peculiaritea for inadvertently and unknowingly pushing me to continue this fic when I had kinda abandoned it. I hope this makes up for your fandomaid fic being so short. :O)
Much love as always tosmartalli for the beta. She's the best.
Harvey is so busy winning the battles; it never even occurs to him that he could lose the war.
If he'd known that this would be the outcome, that Tanner's hatred and vengeance could lead to this, he would've let it go, would have let someone else take over the case, would gladly have sacrificed bragging rights to stave off what came next.
But he didn't know. All he knew was that despite being bested in the Apple Creek class action suit and the Coastal Motors evidence burying accusations, Tanner had come back for round three. Harvey, with Mike's considerable help, won that round just as they had won the previous two. Tanner vowed vengeance, and all Harvey could do was laugh at his comic-book villain theatrics and make a smartass comment about slithering back to the eighth circle of hell.
Tanner laid low after that. They didn't hear from him for nearly a year, and Harvey certainly never thought about him. But Tanner was no fool, and he was simply biding his time, looking for Harvey's Achilles heel.
He found Mike.
If Harvey thought containing his rage was near impossible when Tanner was spilling insults about his parents, it's nothing compared to wanting to hit his smug face when Tanner waltzes up to them outside the Pearson Hardman building, saying he has reported both Harvey and Mike to the Bar Association. Luckily for Tanner's face Mike just happens to be there (or maybe there was nothing lucky about it, maybe Tanner had waited until he could catch them together, wanted to see both their faces as he delivered his death blow) and when Harvey steps forward with every intention of beating him to a bloody pulp Mike moves between them, holds Harvey back with his palms flat to his chest and his firm yet soothing words talking him down. And it's only when he meets Mike's eyes, big and blue as they bore into his, that he eases back.
Tanner walks away, smirking and satisfied, having finally won.
"Harvey," Mike says, the word breaking halfway through as the weight of the moment sinks down on them both.
Harvey turns to face Mike (his associate, his protégé, his friend) but he has no words.
Accusations of this nature are taken very seriously and it's mere hours later that they are summoned to the courthouse to explain (and defend) themselves to the Bar Association.
There is no time, no time to make a plan to cover their tracks. They've been brainstorming options since the moment they walked into Harvey's office, closing the door firmly behind them (with Donna shooing away anyone who even looked into the office at them) and the only idea they could come up with was contacting Lola and asking her to create a fake background for Mike to present to the Bar. Because despite his Harvard JD there was no record of a pre-law degree, there were no pictures with classmates on campus, no professors with glowing recommendations, nothing someone would normally use to prove their legitimacy.
The whole cab ride over they try and get in contact with Lola but they can't reach her. They try her cell, her home, her father's home, cell and office, and they even try calling her department in Columbia, but they get nowhere. And all too soon they arrive at their destination.
Harvey's mind is spinning at a rapid rate, simultaneously assessing dozens of scenarios to get them out of this situation, but it all ends up boiling down to one inevitable option. But when, as they are walking down the busy hallway and Harvey leans in and whispers his suggestion to Mike, the younger man physically recoils from the suggestion.
"Are you joking?" Mike blanches. "You want me to lie under oath?" he continues, dropping to a hard whisper for the last three words.
"I don't see any other alternative. Do you?"
"Even if they believed me, which, given that I have no hard evidence to back up my assertions seems unlikely, they are going to call you in too. You would never perjure yourself."
Harvey considers that for a moment, surprised to realize he is already resigned to the fact, and, even more incredibly, it doesn't trouble him as much as he thought it would. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe this time I will."
"Harvey," Mike hisses, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the hallway and grabbing his arm, pulling hard.
They stand there, just looking at each other, Mike's face a never ending rotation of emotions. Harvey thinks he's looking for something in his own expression, and the way he eventually exhales deeply with relief (or is it resignation?) suggests that he finds whatever it is he was searching for.
"You'd never-" Mike begins in feeble protest, but he stops when Harvey steps that much closer, a hand wrapped around his upper arm.
"Yes, Mike, I would. For you, I would."
Mike just stares in unabashed surprise. Harvey returns the gaze, doesn't look away, needs Mike to understand that he means this, that he will do whatever he can to try and help him. Mike says Harvey's name but doesn't get any further than that because a woman dressed in a sharp suit calls their names as she approaches, and they both turn and look at her, Harvey quickly dropping his hand from Mike's arm.
"This way," she tells them, turning and walking back in the direction she came, not even waiting to see if they are following.
"Are you ready for this?" Harvey asks as they trail after her.
Mike laughs bitterly. "I'll never be ready for this."
The wooden bench outside the conference room is hard and uncomfortable, but Harvey had been walking in circles up and down the hallway for the last twenty minutes and thought he should probably sit before he drove himself mad.
It's agonizing, the unknown, imagining the worst, wondering how smoothly Mike was lying his way through their deposition, wondering if they have tripped him up or if Mike has outsmarted them. The time seems to go by at a snail's pace, and the only brief distraction from his thoughts comes when he receives a text from Donna asking how things are going (he doesn't reply, the silence saying more than any words could).
At last Mike exits the room. Harvey immediately stands, raking his eyes over Mike's body. He looks deflated, but there is something determined about him too, and it immediately sets Harvey on edge.
"Well," Mike says on a deep exhale, "I guess that's that."
"What did you do?" Harvey asks, his words an accusation, a verbal expression of the dread sitting deep in his stomach.
"It's over," Mike replies.
"Mike. What did you do?"
"I told them the truth. That you had no idea that I never went to Harvard, that I've been lying to you since the day we met."
"Mike-" Harvey starts, but is cut off by Mike's small cough, the way he looks away, nonchalantly rubbing a hand to the back of his neck before returning his gaze to Harvey.
Harvey takes a deep breath, understands the message he is being sent. They both know Mike was lying. However now is not the time and definitely not the place to be discussing it, with lawyers and judges surrounding them. He desperately needs to talk about this, but this isn't the time. The same woman from before pops her head into the hallway to inform Harvey they are breaking for lunch and that he needs to return in an hour. Harvey nods at her, grabbing Mike by the elbow and dragging him through the building onto the city streets.
They've walked down these concrete steps a hundred times. They've been jubilant at a case well won, downtrodden at an unexpected turn in their case, busy as they try and talk through the next stage in strategy. But he's never experienced anything like this. It feels like the end. His head spins with it all: Tanner's victory, Harvey's loss, Mike caught in the middle, his sacrifice the only thing he could think to do. Mike gave up everything he ever wanted for him, to save him. He doesn't know how to accept or process such an act.
"Well," Mike says when they reach the road. "I guess this is it, huh?"
Harvey is a smart man, but it takes him much longer than it should for him to understand what Mike is saying. He's saying goodbye.
But Harvey isn't ready for that, not yet. "Let's go grab a drink, talk this through," he says, any excuse to put off the inevitable.
Mike smiles sadly at him. "Thanks, Harvey, but not today. I just need some time. Rain check?"
Harvey grudgingly nods his assent.
Mike hails a cab, a gleaming yellow car appearing with the simple wave of an arm. Mike opens the door, slides his satchel from off his shoulder and throws it onto the backseat. He turns back to Harvey, and when Mike meets his gaze he is struck by the feeling of dread, of loss. And then, in a completely surprising move, Mike steps forward and throws an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.
"Thanks for everything, Harvey," Mike whispers, and Harvey barely has time to return the embrace with a hand to the flat of Mike's back before Mike has pulled away, has slid into the cab before it drives away.
Harvey just stands there, dazed, overwhelmed with confusion and regret. It all just happened so fucking fast. He should have fought harder. There must have been a way to avoid this. He couldn't believe that this was the only option.
He would give Mike some time, some space, just as he requested. But tomorrow, they were going to fix this.
Harvey is man enough to admit that the next twenty four hours are kind of a daze. He walks around the office, lost, head pounding and thoughts jumbled. He can't process it, literally does not have the mental capacity to wrap his head around the fact that they got caught, that they lost.
Donna does her best to keep everyone away from him. She reschedules what she can and glares at anyone who even approaches his office. But even she can't keep out the only name partner in the firm, and just after lunch Jessica strides into his office.
Harvey sits at his desk, chair turned to the windows, his feet up on the ledge and a baseball idly moving from hand to hand. He's been staring out the window for the better part of an hour, but he just can't concentrate. God knows he tried, tried burying himself in work, but it didn't work. All it did was remind him that Mike was no longer around to palm things off onto, he wasn't here to mark the files with his color coded highlighting, he wasn't here to interrupt Harvey's work by coming into the office uninvited and unannounced.
"Harvey," Jessica says, and at the sound of her voice Harvey lets out a deep sigh before spinning on his chair and turning to face her.
Jessica physically softens before him as she takes in Harvey's appearance, his tired expression. She sits down on the chair at the other side of his desk and says, "I heard what happened."
Harvey nods but avoids her gaze. He figured the Bar Association would report the outcome of their meetings, that Mike had fooled Harvey and all of Pearson Hardman into thinking he was qualified when he wasn't, that Harvey had testified that he had no idea Mike was a fraud. The lie had tasted so bitter on his tongue, and he never imagined lying under oath in this way. He could stomach perjuring himself to protect Mike, but lying to denounce him made his skin crawl.
"You did the right thing," Jessica continues when he remains silent.
Harvey nods absently. Intellectually, he knows he did what needed to be done, did the only thing he could in the circumstances. There was no other way out of that situation, not one that didn't bring down himself and Donna and Jessica (and by extension all of Pearson Hardman). But that didn't change the fact that it still felt wrong.
"Mike will be okay," Jessica adds, and it's his name on Jessica's lips that finally gets Harvey's head to snap up, to meet her eyes.
"I hope you're right," Harvey replies, vainly hoping that by contributing to the conversation it will expedite its conclusion.
Jessica continues to stare at him, and Harvey feels naked and so very exposed beneath her gaze.
"Harvey, I know you cared for him-"
"Don't, Jessica. Just don't," Harvey interrupts, voice hard. He doesn't want to hear it. Whatever it is (whether it's her saying he needs to hire someone new or reach out to Mike or comment on the exact nature of their relationship or anything else) he just doesn't want to hear it right now.
Jessica nods, stands and exits the office, leaving him be (at least for now). Harvey watches her go, and when his eyes meet Donna's he can't take that sympathetic look on her face. He pulls out his cell and texts Mike, because they need to talk. He just sends a quick 'call me' message and attempts to get back to work.
By the time Harvey makes it home that night he has sent Mike three text messages and left one (admittedly short) voice mail. Mike hasn't contacted him.
Harvey vacillates between being pissed off and being worried. Even though it's close to midnight, he tries calling one last time, sighing when it goes through to voicemail.
"Mike, it's me. I don't know why you're avoiding me, whether you're mad at me or just want nothing to do with me anymore. And if so, I'd understand. But you have to believe me when I say that this wasn't how I wanted things to play out. Please call me. I want to help you. We need to talk. I don't care if it's 2am, just call."
He readies for bed, mentally exhausted despite the fact that he got virtually no work done today. He felt numb, in shock. He still can't believe that it actually happened. He knows that it did, because Mike never showed for work and Donna cleaned out his cubicle and Louis cornered him in the bathroom to ask if the rumor was true (and when Harvey confirmed it was he got to listen to Louis rant for ten minutes about the betrayal he felt – and Harvey squeezed his fists tight to refrain from punching him in the fucking face). But it still just feels so surreal.
When he wakes the next morning the first thing he does is check his phone. No missed calls or messages. He decides he's had enough and when Ray picks him up tells him they are detouring to Mike's place.
He knows he is being selfish, not leaving Mike alone and giving him the time he asked for, that Mike is going through something much bigger than he is. But the need in him to see Mike, to talk to him, it's visceral, even borderline ugly. It twists and turns inside him. He doesn't know why he is suddenly so desperate, but he is.
He wishes he could be surprised when he pounds on Mike's apartment door and there is no answer. He calls his name, keeps banging. He calls Mike's cell, but he can't hear it ringing in the apartment, so with a resigned sigh he accepts that Mike isn't home and heads into work.
It's after lunch when he receives the email.
Harvey is swimming in paperwork from the Harrison/Adams merger and the little chime his laptop makes to indicate a new email barely penetrates his focus. He glances at his inbox, the bolded line indicating a new email from failedtonotbeawesome@gmail.com.
He goes back to work, but after a mere three seconds the penny drops. He looks back to his laptop so quickly he wonders if he'll have neck pain from whiplash later, and when the subject line says I can get us two tickets to Buenos Aires and have the chopper on the helipad in ten minutes any doubt is immediately removed.
He drops his pen, swivels in his chair to properly face the monitor as he opens the email. There is a photo attachment called 'me at teatro colon' so he opens that first. He is greeted with the image of Mike standing outside a large light grey concrete building, but he focuses on Mike's face. He is smiling, relaxed, looks happy. He closes the image and reads the email.
Hi.
So, I just got all your texts and voicemails. Sorry if I worried you or anything.
I'm kinda not in New York anymore. Please don't be pissed. I'm sorry for bailing without calling or anything but after everything that happened I just needed to get away. And I knew if I spoke to you or saw you it would make leaving ten times harder.
I don't regret it, Harvey. Of course I wish that tennis playing douche hadn't found out our secret, but I'm glad that I could save you and Jessica from my disgrace. So if you're feeling even an ounce of guilt or remorse, don't. It was never going to last, we both know that. And I'm so glad we lasted as long as we did.
So, if you haven't opened the picture yet (and couldn't tell by the subject line) I'm in Buenos Aires. :O) I went to the airport and wouldn't you know it, the first flight I could get on was to the same place you joked we should flee to when Jessica found out. Serendipity in action, my friend.
I've only been here a few hours, but it's amazing. It's so beautiful here. There are so many things I want to see, not just here but all over the world. I've never really had the means or opportunity to travel before, but I have both now. Thanks to you.
I gotta go now. Talk soon. :O)
M.
Harvey reads the email three times before it starts making sense. Mike has fled to Buenos Aires. Even re-opening the attached photo and staring at it for two minutes straight doesn't help make sense of things any quicker.
He can't believe Mike did this, that he just cut and run. While part of him is relieved that Mike hasn't disappeared into a dark hole of drugs and alcohol, he is mostly pissed that despite everything he up and left without a word. Harvey hits the reply button, but thinks better of actually typing anything. He goes back to his paperwork, decides he needs a bit of time and space to get his thoughts in order so he doesn't send something he regrets.
It's over an hour later when he gets around to replying. He spends more time than he cares to admit writing it all out, deleting whole paragraphs (they were too much, too mean, too heartfelt), trying to find the exact right words. He idly realises how much easier it is to talk to Mike when he is right there, when they can communicate anything worth saying with a simple look. Words are harder. In the end he gives up and sends:
Mike,
I'm glad you're safe. But next time you skip the country do me a favour and let me know first.
I am sorry that this happened. And I still can't believe you did what you did. I suppose I should say thank you. And it's not that I'm not grateful. I am. But I'm still pissed – at Tanner for being the prick that he is, at you for giving up so easily when we could've found a way out, at me for not fixing this like I should have.
Robertson was asking after you this morning. I told him you'd quit, found a job at Legal Aid. I didn't know what else to say.
Where did you leave the Lagos & Paone briefs? I've looked everywhere but can't find them.
Harvey.
It takes three days for Jessica to bring up getting a new associate. Harvey glares at her, but she is immune to that now, and presses on regardless.
"Harvey, you need an associate. And Mike isn't coming back."
"I know that," Harvey snaps. It's not like he's hoping for some last minute plot twist that saves the day so Mike can come waltzing through his office door complete with scruffy hair and skinny tie. He is well aware that Mike isn't coming back.
But that doesn't mean he's ready to replace him yet either.
"Not yet, Jessica."
Jessica shakes her head sadly and says, "I'll give you a week. If you don't want to find someone by then I'll find them for you."
He nods absently, already focused back on his laptop. He can hear Jessica leave but doesn't acknowledge it, just keeps working. It's something to focus on, getting lost in the legal jargon. It's familiar, easy, like coming home after a long break away. It's something to keep his mind from wandering.
And then, as if he had heard them talking about him, an email from Mike appears in his inbox with the subject line: when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio
Harvey can't help but smile, immediately opening the email.
I'm not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but I get why millions flock to the Christ the Redeemer statue every year. It is one of the most impressive things I have ever seen.
Tomorrow I'm planning on going paragliding at Pedra Bonita. I met this girl from Switzerland this morning who did it and says it's amazing. I can't wait.
I feel like I should be seeing every sight and eating at every restaurant, but all I want to do is just lie on a beach all day. :O) I'm still finding it difficult to shut my mind off, to not think about home in New York. But it gets easier every day. Maybe one day soon I'll wake up and my first thought won't be of having to get up to go into work.
Hope everything is good on your end.
M.
Harvey opens the attached picture to find a picture Mike obviously took of himself, half his face taking up the picture and a blurry shape Harvey can only assume is the Christ the Redeemer statue in the background.
Harvey immediately hits the reply button and starts typing.
Mike,
What would possess anyone to strap themselves to a total stranger and jump off a cliff with nothing but a lightweight material to keep them from plummeting to the ground? If for no other reason than my sanity, please don't do it. (And no, there is no need to point out the contradiction to my risk taking in day to day life and my complete aversion to any extreme sports. I'm self-aware enough already thanks).
Jessica is making me hire someone to replace you. Want to come back under an assumed identity? We can create a foolproof background first so no one will know. Maybe change your appearance slightly so no one realizes it's you.
Just kidding. (not really)
Would you believe Louis actually came and asked for my help yesterday? I wish I had his Dictaphone to record the moment for posterity. I didn't even make him beg (at least, not for more than thirty seconds). I may have, however, insisted he refer to me only as Mr Specter until the problem was solved (a mere hour later – sometimes I'm too smart for my own good).
And now I'm going back to working on the InterMedia case. The inept CEO wants to go to court. You would think when they're paying a thousand bucks an hour that they would actually listen to my advice, but apparently despite my qualifications and experience they still know better.
Look after yourself.
Harvey
Jessica hires a new associate for him when it becomes clear he wants nothing to do with the process and won't actually hire anyone himself. Her name is Amie Davenport, sixth in her class at Harvard, young, pretty, ambitious. She immediately reminds Harvey of Jessica, so he isn't too worried about being stuck with an annoying and incompetent Harvard douche. He gives her tasks and sends her off. He is genial and instructional and sprouts the occasional piece of advice and that's it. No more, no less.
He knows nothing of her family situation or personal life. He doesn't exchange movie and book quotes with her. There are no wayward friends to rescue, no lies to conceal, no innuendo laden banter. It's simple and professional.
And it makes him miss Mike all the more.
If he's honest, he's surprised by the sharp relief that working with Amie gives to his relationship with Mike, because everything with Mike had felt so natural and instinctive, right from the start. And while he knew they didn't have the same kind of relationship as most bosses had with their subordinates, he thought it was just their shared secret that was the cause of the change. But he realizes now that it wasn't that at all. It was just Mike. It was just the way they fit together, like the easiest thing in the world. He's never had that with anyone before. He can't imagine having it with anyone else.
Harvey doesn't hear from Mike for a nearly week. He doesn't panic, he doesn't go about checking his email multiple times an hour, and he definitely doesn't google 'Pedra Bonita paragliding accident'.
He finally gets an email on the Saturday morning, after returning from his building's gym. It's time stamped for nearly an hour ago, the bolded subject line stating Helvetiorum Fidei ac Virtuti. He sits on the couch, uncaring about his sweaty and smelling clothes, and opens the email.
There is a picture attachment, which Harvey opens first. It's a picture of a carving in a stone wall: a lion, mournful, dying, as it lies on a shield. For once there is no smiling Mike looking at him, just the somber stone carving. He minimizes the picture and starts reading.
Sorry I haven't written in so long. I've hopped continents and am now in gorgeous Europe.
Remember that Swiss girl I told you about? She convinced me to visit her homeland so here I am. Her place is just outside of Lucerne, so I've spent the last few days crashing on her couch and exploring the region.
It's so peaceful here. So picturesque. I've eaten my entire body weight in chocolate and have crossed the Chapel Bridge a dozen times. The people are so friendly, despite my completely terrible German - apparently while my eidetic memory helps me memorize useful sayings it's of no help when it comes to actually being able to pronounce them correctly.
I went and saw the Lion of Lucerne this morning. It's honestly one of the most powerful monuments I've ever seen. Even now I'm still affected by it, its power and beauty. I think I stood there and stared at it for an hour straight. I don't know why it got to me. Maybe it's the quiet sadness of it, the simple elegance of a picture saying more than a thousand words ever could.
Anyway, I'll stop waxing poetic because I'm sure you've probably caused yourself an injury from the amount of eyerolling you did while reading the last paragraph.
The road leads ever on. Not sure where I'll land next, but I'll keep you posted.
M.
Harvey doesn't do jealousy, so it never even occurs to him that the thought of Mike hooking up with this random girl and travelling the world with her sits as an ache, low in his stomach. He dismisses the feeling as having gone too hard on the treadmill, and he gets up off the couch to go shower.
He saves Mike's photo as his desktop background. But he doesn't reply to the email.
When Mike emails a couple of days later Harvey doesn't open it.
Well, for an hour.
The subject line is blank for once, so he has no idea what's in store for him. He just takes a deep breath and starts reading.
Venice is amazing. But it needs way less winding lanes for me to get lost in.
I'm back to travelling by myself. As cool as it was having someone around to share the sights with I kinda like being back by myself again. Karin was cool, but the whole time we hung out I couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
I bought a mask today (see attached). I don't know how I'm going to travel with it without it breaking into a thousand pieces. I thought about sending it home, but there would be no one there to receive it. Maybe I'll send it to you. :O)
Anyway, apparently these types of masks were used by doctors back in the day to ward off disease. I just bought it because it reminded me of that random guy in the ballroom scene in Labyrinth.
I think I finally have this travelling thing down now. Would you believe I went two whole days without thinking about Pearson Hardman (well, except for you of course, but it's not the same). Look at that for progress.
Off to the country's capital next. Fingers crossed I don't get killed in a car accident thanks to an insane cab driver (because there are some stereotypes that are accurate).
M.
Harvey opens the email to see a picture of what he assumes is Mike, his face obscured by a dark mask with what he can only describe as a long beak. He hits reply straight away, smiling as he types.
Mike,
Your complete lack of appreciation of history is unbecoming. Seriously – you bought a mask because it reminded you of something you saw in a kid's movie. You are ridiculous.
Okay, I would've done the same thing.
You'll be glad to know Jessica hired an associate to replace you. She's very nice and capable, and doesn't spend half her work day flirting with the paralegal staff, so I call that an upgrade on my previous employee. ;-)
I think Donna met someone. She's become suddenly cagey about her calls and has brought me eleven coffees in the last three days from a coffee shop two blocks away. I know I'm an awesome boss and that I function better on a good strong coffee, but that's excessive even for me.
Oh, and Louis mentioned you this morning. Would you believe he used you as an example to his own associate about what amount of work should be done in a given timeframe? If you ever wanted a legacy, there it is.
Harvey.
It continues on like that for weeks. Mike sends him an email at least every other day from whatever city he has landed in (Rome, Paris, Munich, Amsterdam). He attaches a photo of himself at various landmarks each time (The Mouth of Truth, Musee D'Orsay, Hofbräuhaus, the canals…). Each email comes with a few paragraphs about the city, what he's seen and who he has met.
And Harvey replies to each one, telling him about life back in New York, the antics of their co-workers (okay, he supposes they are just his co-workers now), what he is working on. If he is feeling generous he might reference something in Mike's email, even though Mike never returns the favor.
With each passing day it feels stranger. It's like crossed wires, this obvious desire to interact but their complete inability to talk about anything that actually matters. They never talk about Tanner and the hearing, or Mike's return to New York, or the fact that sometimes Harvey will be hit with a sudden pang in his chest when he thinks about Mike so far away.
It was just so much easier to talk when they were in the same room, when half the time they didn't even need to use actual words. All it took was a look, a grimace or a smile, a small nod or quick eye-roll. But he misses the words too. The banter and quotes, the way their words would trigger thoughts and solutions in the other.
He misses the everyday ease. He misses Mike.
He gets an email one afternoon, subject line will you let me romanticize the beauty in our London skies and Harvey can only assume Mike has landed in merry old England.
He opens the email, but all he is greeted with is:
Wish you were here.
There is a photo attached, of Mike standing in front of a large stone lion, in Trafalgar Square. But Harvey closes it quickly and returns his gaze to the words of his email. All four of them.
He genuinely doesn't know how to process this one. What happened to all the touristy stuff, of Mike's wonderful, but seemingly random, thoughts?
He closes the emails and physically stands and walks away from his desk, turns to look out the window. He can feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and he tells himself it's just from the surprise, not because he wishes he was there too.
It's a lie he tries with all his might to believe.
Mike sends him an email at pretty much the same time, every single day, for the next week. He is travelling around England, and there are lots of photos of pretty villages, massive stone castles, green landscapes, white beaches. And each email has the exact same message.
Wish you were here.
Harvey hasn't replied to one email. It's not for lack of trying. Every email he receives he hits the reply button and stares at the screen for minutes on end, fingers hovering over his keyboard, but no words are forthcoming.
What the fuck is he supposed to say? That he misses Mike. That he wishes he was there with him too. That he wishes Mike was back here in New York, at Pearson Hardman, with him. They don't have that kind of relationship, and they don't say shit like that to each other. Even if he feels it with every fiber of his being.
When today's email comes through he's at a meeting, but it's only been sitting in his inbox for fifteen minutes when he returns to his desk. Amie is talking at him but he can't hear anything she says because instead he opens the email, focuses on the picture of Mike sitting in a grand Victorian sitting room, stares at those same words.
Wish you were here.
He hits reply, types a message, unthinking, his fingers moving of their own volition. He stares at his reply, just three little words, and then with a deep breath he hits send.
Do you really?
He feels the rush of uncertainty tinged with regret as soon as the email disappears, the breath leaving his body in a shaky exhale. He plants his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on his linked fingers, stares at the screen (at which point Amie sighs heavily and leaves the room).
When his email gets a reply within minutes, he isn’t surprised. He just knew Mike would still be there, waiting for his reply, that Harvey's breaking of his silence would get an immediate response.
When he opens the email he is greeted with:
Yes, I do. I wish you were here.
Harvey is up off his chair like an electric shock, immediately pacing the length of his office as his mind buzzes. He's gotten a good dozen laps in before Donna enters his office, closing the door behind her.
"Tell me I'm not this crazy," Harvey says.
Donna watches him continue to prowl the office like a caged animal and replies, "Oh, you are definitely crazy."
Harvey throws her a look, which she matches with a sterner one of her own.
"What is it?"
"Tell me I'm not actually thinking of flying across the world just to see my former associate."
Donna remains silent, and when he finally looks up at her she is smiling. "I can't believe you actually realized that the two of you are crazy about each other."
Harvey stops the pacing and flat out glares at her. "We are not-"
"Harvey, you're thinking of flying across the world to meet him. Swimming in the river of denial is no longer an option."
Harvey finally stops pacing, collapsing in a heap onto the couch. He feels every atom of willpower seep from his body and he physically deflates. He will forever look back at this as the exact moment he resigned himself to the inevitable.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he says plaintively, like if he implores Donna hard enough she will snap her fingers and put everything back to normal.
Donna sits opposite him, smiles kindly at him. "He's a good guy, Harvey. You could do much worse."
"This isn't who I am," he protests, even though it sounds feeble to his own ears. Because while he's comfortable with his position on the Kinsey scale (a solid two) he's never wanted anything real or meaningful with anyone before, male or female. And he cares too much about Mike for this not to be an all or nothing deal. But he has subsided on one night stands and casual relationships for too long, and he doesn't know how to do this, for it to mean something.
"On the contrary, I think this is who you've always been. You just never wanted to admit it."
Donna leaves him alone after that, walks out of the room confident in leaving a swirling mess of thoughts and feelings behind.
An hour later Harvey calls Donna into his office and says, "Book me on a flight to London and clear my schedule for a week."
She grins, retreats to her desk, and is back in record time with a flight and hotel confirmation. He is leaving tomorrow night, catching a 9pm flight which should get him in at around nine the next morning. The booking is first class, and she's reserved him the Park Suite at The Dorchester for the first three nights.
He reads through it all as she says, "You've got the meeting with McGregor tomorrow which you can't miss, but I've cleared your schedule for the rest of this week and all next week."
"I love you."
"I know."
Harvey does a quick mental calculation of how much time he will need to get through customs and get into the city to check in to his hotel and freshen up before he opens the latest email from Mike, hits reply, and types a quick message. He stares at the words for a few seconds, then with a deep breath, hits send.
Meet you at Trafalgar Square on Thursday at 2pm.
It takes all of Harvey's effort to not pace as he waits for Mike. He tries sitting on the steps, because you can't pace when you're stationary, but he's back up on his feet less than a minute later. He keeps looking around, trying to catch sight of a familiar face, sandy blond hair, an easy grin he missed more than he realized.
The square is much bigger than he anticipated, but he waits by Nelson’s Column because that's where Mike was when he took the photo to send home to Harvey. As a landmark it works well, because a few minutes later he hears a low and awed, "Harvey?"
Harvey turns and is greeted with the sight of Mike, a few steps away. Mike looks surprised, like he thought this was all just a cruel joke, like he can't believe Harvey actually came. But then his face breaks into the largest smile Harvey's ever seen and he rushes forward, greeting Harvey with his arms thrown around his shoulders, nearly causing the older man to tumble backwards with the enthusiasm of his hug. Harvey laughs and returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Mike's back. And then they're kissing, mouths moving together urgently, Mike's hands framing his face. Harvey will never be able to say who moved first, but it doesn't matter, because it's everything they've ever needed, desperate and deep and so fucking real. And Harvey doesn't care if the whole city has stopped to witness this embrace, because this is more important than anything he has ever done, and if they want to witness it then so be it.
When Mike pulls away it's only enough to look Harvey in the eyes, to smile brightly at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. Harvey doesn't even feel that shock of revolt at such an emotional display, because he fucking missed Mike, all of him, overemotional idiot that he can sometimes be, and when those emotions are directed at him, when he is looking at Harvey like he wants to laugh and cry and sing and scream all at once, how could he not be anything but happy about it?
Mike presses his hands to Harvey's face, runs his fingers through his hair, presses his fingertips to his cheeks, traces his eyebrows and moles and lips. "You're really here," Mike whispers.
Harvey grins, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm really here."
They crash through Harvey's hotel room door, only just righting themselves before they fall to the floor, too distracted by each other's mouths and getting the other naked as soon as humanly possible. It was a process they started in the lift, which thankfully they were alone in, because at that point they were so desperate Harvey didn't think the presence of another person would have stopped them anyway. In the safety of Harvey's hotel room they can drop the clothes they hold in their hands (Harvey's jacket, Mike's t-shirt), and continue stripping each other. It becomes decidedly difficult to remove all the layers and cross the living area into the bedroom while not physically removing their tongues from each other's mouths, so with a groan Harvey breaks away, wraps his fingers around Mike's wrist and leads him to the bedroom. Even that is too much for Mike, who wretches his wrist free from Harvey's grip so he can instead follow Harvey with his hands to his hips as he walks behind the older man, following close enough that he can press his mouth to the back of Harvey's neck.
Once inside the bedroom Harvey growls with impatience and turns, claiming Mike's mouth once more, pressing his tongue in like it physically pains him when he isn't kissing Mike. Now with the added advantage of standing in the one spot they can strip each other (well, mostly themselves, because in their desperation they just mostly end up getting in each other's way) of every layer until they can finally press together, skin to skin.
Harvey pushes Mike down to the bed and follows quickly after, positioning himself in the cradle of Mike's hips. He presses a mouth to his sternum, works down to the flat of Mike's stomach, roams the palm of his hand over every piece of skin he can touch. Mike writhes beneath him, breathing labored, and he slowly makes his way up Mike's torso and chest and neck. He can feel Mike's cock hardening where it presses against his chest, and he wraps a hand around it, starting to pump.
"Do you have-" Mike starts, but then Harvey kisses him, stealing the words from his throat.
It's deep but quick, and Harvey gets up and reaches into the nightstand for the condoms and lube.
"You came prepared," Mike remarks with a smirk.
Harvey can't help the quiet laughter as he replies, "I think a more accurate word is hopeful."
Harvey sits back on his heels as he gets the condom rolled on. Mike sits and takes the lube from his hand and when Harvey is ready he quickly covers him in a thin layer, one hand thoroughly covering every inch of his cock. He nibbles at the jut of Harvey's hipbone, presses open mouthed kisses to his lower stomach, all the while his hand steadily pumps, and Harvey can't help but moan, head thrown back.
But Harvey's desperate now, wants to be inside Mike, feels it like a visceral need that he can't help but obey. He bends down and presses his mouth to Mike's, gently easing him back onto the bed, falling between Mike's open legs.
He takes himself in hand and positions himself at Mike's hole, pressing in with a gasp he can hear Mike echo. When he is sheathed he stills for a moment as Mike adjusts, breathing deep. After a few moments Mike nods subtly and Harvey starts moving.
And he is suddenly hit by a realization that this is Mike - Mike - this is his best friend, the only person in the whole fucking world who could undo him, and the thought should keep him slow and steady but it has the opposite effect, making Harvey wild and desperate. He pushes in deep, and he hooks a hand behind Mike's left knee, lifts it up above his shoulder, slides his body even closer. Mike makes a frankly pornographic noise at this turn of events, and Harvey smiles wolfishly at him.
They start fucking in earnest, hard and deep. Mike clutches at him, pulls him closer as if he's desperate for more, like the fact that nearly every inch of their bodies is pressed together still isn't enough.
They go through nearly half a dozen positions, not because it isn't good, but because it's so fucking amazing they want to experience everything in the here and now, are greedy for every possible pleasure that their bodies can conjure. Mike rolls them so he's on top, knees digging into the mattress as he rides Harvey hard, palms pressing into his chest and his head thrown back, moaning into the silence of the room. After a few minutes Harvey sits, Mike adjusting his legs so they wrap around him, sinking even further onto Harvey's cock. They kiss languidly, arms wrapped around each other as they roll their hips.
Harvey is not the least bit surprised by how vocal Mike is during sex. His mouth spills a never-ending litany of single word sentences, punctuated by a variety of indescribable sounds that just get Harvey's heart rate going even faster, his thrusts even quicker. For his part, Harvey doesn't say a word, too far gone to be capable of forming words, let alone actual sentences.
With one last kiss, Harvey pushes Mike back onto the bed, the younger man falling easily. Harvey carefully withdraws, both of them groaning at the loss, and with a few quick maneuvers Mike is on his stomach, legs spread and Harvey is entering him again, his whole body atop Mike's, thrusting hard and fast. Harvey buries his face in the crook of Mike's neck, inhales the scent of sweat and sex and Mike, and Mike's fingers briefly thread through his hair before his hand grips hard, encouraging. Harvey increases his tempo as much as he's able, movements frantic, and Mike cries Harvey's name, drives his ass back and forth in perfect counter of Harvey's thrusts.
Harvey does briefly wonder if their first time should be completely different, slow and intimate, but then Mike starts rambling about you feel so fucking good and wanted this for so long and oh fuck, Harvey and the older man can't regret anything, knows they have plenty of time for soft and romantic later. This is about confirmation, a desperate desire to declare that this is who they are meant to be.
Harvey stops moving, kisses down Mike's spine as he withdraws once more. "Come here," he murmurs, and Mike looks over his shoulder, sees the older man lying on his back and Mike straddles him, his back to Harvey, sinks down once more. His feet and palms are flat on the bed and Harvey's hands wrap around his hips as he bounces up and down. The angle is fucking perfect, but they are both desperate now. Mike's movements become erratic as he speeds closer to the inevitable. Harvey's countering thrusts are so fucking quick and he wants to see Mike's face, but will settle for tearing those desperate sounds from his throat.
"Fuck, oh fuck," Mike cries. Harvey's whole body is warm and slick, and he's so fucking close. Mike loses the strength to keep himself upright, slowly falling back onto Harvey's chest, his head tipped over Harvey's shoulder and pressing into the mattress. Harvey can't help but nibble on the length of his bared neck, teeth scrapping against exposed skin. They're still joined and Harvey doesn't stop moving, running a hand down Mike's stomach to wrap around his cock.
"I wanna come, Harvey," Mike all but begs. "Fuck. Make me come. Please. Oh God…"
Harvey can do nothing but obey. He shifts out from under Mike slightly, so Mike's top half is flat against the mattress but from the waist down he's twisted on his side. Harvey is curled up beside him, thrusting hard, hand hooked under Mike's knee, holding his leg in mid-air to keep him open and pliant. The best thing about this position is that Mike is right there and Harvey can kiss him, so he does just that, licking into his mouth as he fucks him. Mike gets an arm underneath Harvey, wraps it around him so he can get them that much closer. Even when they break apart, too worked up, they can't bear to move away, faces pressed together as they breathe the same air.
Harvey gets a hand to Mike's cock and with but a few brief strokes Mike comes, groaning Harvey's name between a list of expletives. Harvey keeps moving until he comes too, pressing in as hard as he can, his whole body taut as he finally stills.
They both all but collapse, bodies relaxing but not moving, their labored breathing echoing in the room, and Harvey is still in Mike when he kisses him like he'll never get the chance to again.
It takes a good day and a half for them to leave the hotel room.
Yes, there is sex, and lots of it. But it's more Harvey and Mike reacclimatizing to each other, finally saying all the words they could never say in their ridiculously bad emails.
"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Harvey asks, and Mike has the grace to look remorseful about it.
"Because I knew if I saw you, I wouldn’t go. That you'd try and convince me to stay, to try and figure out a solution. Because you, my friend, for all your intelligence, can be amazingly idiotic sometimes. You have to know that there is nothing we could've done."
"That's not true."
Mike laughs, because, okay, Harvey can admit it, when it comes to Mike he has a bit of a blind spot, and Mike is nothing short of amused by his dogged refusal to acknowledge reality about this. "Harvey, Travis fucking Tanner reported us to the Bar. I told them I didn't have a JD. There is literally no way out of a situation like that."
"Maybe…" Harvey admits, the closest he will ever get to conceding on this topic.
"You would have kept on trying for forever, and while I appreciate your intentions, it just would have dragged the whole thing out, been more painful for both of us in the long run. I needed to make a clean break."
"I'm not sure how clean it was, given you emailed me a few days later."
"Well," Mike grins, "just because I wanted a clean break, doesn't mean I didn’t miss you and immediately regret leaving."
"You did?" Harvey asks, perking up.
"Of course. Intellectually I knew it was the best decision, but it was still fucking hard."
Harvey kisses him then, soft and heartfelt. He slides a hand beneath Mike's t-shirt, fingers splayed wide over his ribs.
"Can I ask you something?" Harvey says.
Mike quirks an eyebrow, like he can't believe Harvey is even asking for permission. But then he nods his assent.
"When did you know? About … us?"
Mike smiles shyly, averting his gaze, embarrassed. Harvey presses a gentle kiss to his temple in encouragement but otherwise waits for Mike to be ready.
"I only ever thought it was something that might happen when you said you were coming to London to see me. But as for when I started to fall for you … if I had to pinpoint a moment, it was probably … the second you hired me."
Harvey looks at Mike, incredulous. If Mike asked him the same thing, he wouldn't be able to say exactly when it was he fell for Mike, only that he realized after Mike left. But for Mike to have known all this time, for him to have felt this all this time, it's something Harvey struggles to wrap his mind around. But then Mike kisses him, rolls his body so he lies atop Harvey as the kiss deepens, hands roam.
Mike doesn't ask when Harvey knew, because he doesn't fucking care.
For all that Harvey pretends to be a man of the world, in truth he has only been outside the good ole U S of A three times. Once when he was a kid, when his dad took them with him when he toured Canada for a month. Once when he was at Harvard, and his best friend was going to Cabo for a post exams celebration and dragged Harvey with him. And once when he went to Tokyo for a week during which he spent the whole time working on the sale of a Japanese company to an American one.
So he's never really done this, vacationing for fun, and never once with someone he's involved with. It's better than he ever imagined. They get up at whatever the fuck time they want, go and explore the city, hit all the touristy spots (a flight on the London Eye, a few hours roaming the Tate Museum, seeing a show in the West End, taking one of the Yeoman Warder led tours of the Tower of London…), and eat at the best restaurants before collapsing into bed to spend the next hour in their continuing quest to learn every inch of each other's bodies.
After a few days Harvey suggests they get out of the city and explore further afield. Mike basically looks happy to do whatever Harvey wants, and starts rattling off suggestions of where to go.
"Dorset is beautiful. Or we could check out the Lake District, get out into nature for a bit. Or Ireland, love all those accents, man. Or we could jump a train to Europe. Paris is so beautiful. Or we could go somewhere neither of us have been. I didn't really get a chance to spend much time in Spain. Or Austria, I've heard Austria is amazing..."
Harvey just laughs, kisses Mike to stop him from talking, and that of course leads to the removing of clothes and the complete lack of rational conversation. When they are curled up in bed, Harvey spooned behind Mike, his fingertips drawing idle patterns on his stomach, he whispers, "Let's go to Paris."
Harvey would never admit that he buys into the cliché of Paris being the city of love (insists it's the city of lights when Mike gushes about the romance of it all when they look over the sparkling city from the top of the Eiffel Tower as dusk falls), but he doesn't have to. Because Mike just looks at him like he can see right through the lie, and kisses him, soft and gentle and so full of love. And really, Harvey can admit to himself that he chose Paris because he wanted something romantic with Mike, that he thinks after everything they've been through they both deserve it, to just be two lovers lost in the city, like everyone else gets to be.
So they continue doing the tourist thing, walking all day and eating delicious but unhealthy food and making love as many times as they have the energy to. Because fuck it, Paris is romantic, and Mike is amazing, and he wants to make every moment count because he knows it won't last forever.
Indeed, the week goes by in the blink of an eye, and Harvey sits forlornly on the couch as the weight of tomorrow looms before him. Mike isn't here, has disappeared on a 'supply run' and Harvey is grateful for the space and silence.
They've been very careful to not talk about their relationship or the future in any way. Mike never asked how long Harvey was staying, and Harvey never supplied the information. He doesn't know why, maybe it was just as simple as he was enjoying himself too much to want to think about leaving. But there is no ignoring it any longer.
Mike enters the suite, dropping the plastic bag onto a table as he moves into the room. Harvey looks up and sees Mike standing before him. He smiles lightly at the younger man but soon averts his gaze, and Mike shifts forward, sinking onto his lap. He gently kisses Harvey and asks, "Penny for your thoughts?"
Harvey takes a deep breath but manages to look Mike in the eyes when he says, "I'm going back to New York tomorrow."
Mike physically deflates before him, and Harvey slips a hand beneath his t-shirt, grips at the smooth skin beneath. "Oh."
"I want you to come back with me," Harvey continues.
And now it's Mike's turn to look away. It takes him a while to reply, but he eventually murmurs, "I can't."
"Why not?"
Mike looks back up, slides his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Harvey's neck, as if to soothe the words when he says, "When I met you two years ago I had a family, I had friends, I had an amazing job. And now I have none of those. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying those facts are in any way connected. It's just how I think about my life. It's demarcated into two separate stages – before I met you and everything that came after. But I've lost a lot, and there is nothing there for me anymore."
"There's me," Harvey says. And he can feel the regret well within, that they never talked about what they are to each other. Because it occurs to him for the first time that it's possible Mike thinks that this is just a vacation fuck, that Harvey isn’t so far in with Mike that he could never see a way out.
Mike smiles at him, kinda sad and empty, and it basically confirms everything that Harvey thinks, that Mike is assuming he's asking out of politeness or obligation or some other stupid reason. He thinks that Harvey doesn't mean this.
"Mike," Harvey says, soft but firm, hands cradling Mike's face to keep him in place, looking at Harvey, because he needs Mike to know that he is genuine when he tells him this. "I'm going to say this once, and if you still don't believe me or just don't care, then I'll never ask again, and you can stay here, okay?" At Mike's nod, Harvey continues with an earnest, "I love you. I'm in love with you. And I want you to come home to New York so we can be together."
Mike doesn't say anything at first, and Harvey thinks he's blown it, but then Mike smiles, even starts to giggle. At Harvey's frown Mike immediately says, "I'm sorry, it's just, that is probably the most matter-of-fact 'I love you' I've ever heard."
Harvey can't help but smile slightly, because, okay, Mike probably has a point. But he's never really done this before. He doesn't know how to make speeches and declarations about his feelings, doesn't know how to use flowery words. And maybe it's not romantic or epic, but that's kind of how he feels about Mike. It's simple, intrinsic, unquestionable, not up for discussion or debate. It is just a matter of fact.
But then Mike kisses him, soft at first before he presses in, deepens the embrace, and when he breaks away to say, "Okay, I'll come home with you," what Harvey really hears is I love you too.
---------
Title comes from the quote: Love doesn't hide. It stays and fights. It goes the distance, that's why love is so strong. So it can carry you all the way home.
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: "I heard what happened," Jessica says.
Harvey nods but avoids her gaze. He figured the Bar Association would report the outcome of their meetings, that Mike had fooled Harvey and all of Pearson Hardman into thinking he was qualified when he wasn't, that Harvey had testified that he had no idea Mike was a fraud. The lie had tasted so bitter on his tongue, and he never imagined lying under oath in this way. He could stomach perjuring himself to protect Mike, but lying to denounce him made his skin crawl.
Authors Notes:This was written during the season two hiatus, so just ignore everything that happened in the last six eps.
I wanna give a big shout out to
peculiaritea for inadvertently and unknowingly pushing me to continue this fic when I had kinda abandoned it. I hope this makes up for your fandomaid fic being so short. :O)Much love as always to
smartalli for the beta. She's the best.Harvey is so busy winning the battles; it never even occurs to him that he could lose the war.
If he'd known that this would be the outcome, that Tanner's hatred and vengeance could lead to this, he would've let it go, would have let someone else take over the case, would gladly have sacrificed bragging rights to stave off what came next.
But he didn't know. All he knew was that despite being bested in the Apple Creek class action suit and the Coastal Motors evidence burying accusations, Tanner had come back for round three. Harvey, with Mike's considerable help, won that round just as they had won the previous two. Tanner vowed vengeance, and all Harvey could do was laugh at his comic-book villain theatrics and make a smartass comment about slithering back to the eighth circle of hell.
Tanner laid low after that. They didn't hear from him for nearly a year, and Harvey certainly never thought about him. But Tanner was no fool, and he was simply biding his time, looking for Harvey's Achilles heel.
He found Mike.
If Harvey thought containing his rage was near impossible when Tanner was spilling insults about his parents, it's nothing compared to wanting to hit his smug face when Tanner waltzes up to them outside the Pearson Hardman building, saying he has reported both Harvey and Mike to the Bar Association. Luckily for Tanner's face Mike just happens to be there (or maybe there was nothing lucky about it, maybe Tanner had waited until he could catch them together, wanted to see both their faces as he delivered his death blow) and when Harvey steps forward with every intention of beating him to a bloody pulp Mike moves between them, holds Harvey back with his palms flat to his chest and his firm yet soothing words talking him down. And it's only when he meets Mike's eyes, big and blue as they bore into his, that he eases back.
Tanner walks away, smirking and satisfied, having finally won.
"Harvey," Mike says, the word breaking halfway through as the weight of the moment sinks down on them both.
Harvey turns to face Mike (his associate, his protégé, his friend) but he has no words.
Accusations of this nature are taken very seriously and it's mere hours later that they are summoned to the courthouse to explain (and defend) themselves to the Bar Association.
There is no time, no time to make a plan to cover their tracks. They've been brainstorming options since the moment they walked into Harvey's office, closing the door firmly behind them (with Donna shooing away anyone who even looked into the office at them) and the only idea they could come up with was contacting Lola and asking her to create a fake background for Mike to present to the Bar. Because despite his Harvard JD there was no record of a pre-law degree, there were no pictures with classmates on campus, no professors with glowing recommendations, nothing someone would normally use to prove their legitimacy.
The whole cab ride over they try and get in contact with Lola but they can't reach her. They try her cell, her home, her father's home, cell and office, and they even try calling her department in Columbia, but they get nowhere. And all too soon they arrive at their destination.
Harvey's mind is spinning at a rapid rate, simultaneously assessing dozens of scenarios to get them out of this situation, but it all ends up boiling down to one inevitable option. But when, as they are walking down the busy hallway and Harvey leans in and whispers his suggestion to Mike, the younger man physically recoils from the suggestion.
"Are you joking?" Mike blanches. "You want me to lie under oath?" he continues, dropping to a hard whisper for the last three words.
"I don't see any other alternative. Do you?"
"Even if they believed me, which, given that I have no hard evidence to back up my assertions seems unlikely, they are going to call you in too. You would never perjure yourself."
Harvey considers that for a moment, surprised to realize he is already resigned to the fact, and, even more incredibly, it doesn't trouble him as much as he thought it would. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe this time I will."
"Harvey," Mike hisses, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the hallway and grabbing his arm, pulling hard.
They stand there, just looking at each other, Mike's face a never ending rotation of emotions. Harvey thinks he's looking for something in his own expression, and the way he eventually exhales deeply with relief (or is it resignation?) suggests that he finds whatever it is he was searching for.
"You'd never-" Mike begins in feeble protest, but he stops when Harvey steps that much closer, a hand wrapped around his upper arm.
"Yes, Mike, I would. For you, I would."
Mike just stares in unabashed surprise. Harvey returns the gaze, doesn't look away, needs Mike to understand that he means this, that he will do whatever he can to try and help him. Mike says Harvey's name but doesn't get any further than that because a woman dressed in a sharp suit calls their names as she approaches, and they both turn and look at her, Harvey quickly dropping his hand from Mike's arm.
"This way," she tells them, turning and walking back in the direction she came, not even waiting to see if they are following.
"Are you ready for this?" Harvey asks as they trail after her.
Mike laughs bitterly. "I'll never be ready for this."
The wooden bench outside the conference room is hard and uncomfortable, but Harvey had been walking in circles up and down the hallway for the last twenty minutes and thought he should probably sit before he drove himself mad.
It's agonizing, the unknown, imagining the worst, wondering how smoothly Mike was lying his way through their deposition, wondering if they have tripped him up or if Mike has outsmarted them. The time seems to go by at a snail's pace, and the only brief distraction from his thoughts comes when he receives a text from Donna asking how things are going (he doesn't reply, the silence saying more than any words could).
At last Mike exits the room. Harvey immediately stands, raking his eyes over Mike's body. He looks deflated, but there is something determined about him too, and it immediately sets Harvey on edge.
"Well," Mike says on a deep exhale, "I guess that's that."
"What did you do?" Harvey asks, his words an accusation, a verbal expression of the dread sitting deep in his stomach.
"It's over," Mike replies.
"Mike. What did you do?"
"I told them the truth. That you had no idea that I never went to Harvard, that I've been lying to you since the day we met."
"Mike-" Harvey starts, but is cut off by Mike's small cough, the way he looks away, nonchalantly rubbing a hand to the back of his neck before returning his gaze to Harvey.
Harvey takes a deep breath, understands the message he is being sent. They both know Mike was lying. However now is not the time and definitely not the place to be discussing it, with lawyers and judges surrounding them. He desperately needs to talk about this, but this isn't the time. The same woman from before pops her head into the hallway to inform Harvey they are breaking for lunch and that he needs to return in an hour. Harvey nods at her, grabbing Mike by the elbow and dragging him through the building onto the city streets.
They've walked down these concrete steps a hundred times. They've been jubilant at a case well won, downtrodden at an unexpected turn in their case, busy as they try and talk through the next stage in strategy. But he's never experienced anything like this. It feels like the end. His head spins with it all: Tanner's victory, Harvey's loss, Mike caught in the middle, his sacrifice the only thing he could think to do. Mike gave up everything he ever wanted for him, to save him. He doesn't know how to accept or process such an act.
"Well," Mike says when they reach the road. "I guess this is it, huh?"
Harvey is a smart man, but it takes him much longer than it should for him to understand what Mike is saying. He's saying goodbye.
But Harvey isn't ready for that, not yet. "Let's go grab a drink, talk this through," he says, any excuse to put off the inevitable.
Mike smiles sadly at him. "Thanks, Harvey, but not today. I just need some time. Rain check?"
Harvey grudgingly nods his assent.
Mike hails a cab, a gleaming yellow car appearing with the simple wave of an arm. Mike opens the door, slides his satchel from off his shoulder and throws it onto the backseat. He turns back to Harvey, and when Mike meets his gaze he is struck by the feeling of dread, of loss. And then, in a completely surprising move, Mike steps forward and throws an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.
"Thanks for everything, Harvey," Mike whispers, and Harvey barely has time to return the embrace with a hand to the flat of Mike's back before Mike has pulled away, has slid into the cab before it drives away.
Harvey just stands there, dazed, overwhelmed with confusion and regret. It all just happened so fucking fast. He should have fought harder. There must have been a way to avoid this. He couldn't believe that this was the only option.
He would give Mike some time, some space, just as he requested. But tomorrow, they were going to fix this.
Harvey is man enough to admit that the next twenty four hours are kind of a daze. He walks around the office, lost, head pounding and thoughts jumbled. He can't process it, literally does not have the mental capacity to wrap his head around the fact that they got caught, that they lost.
Donna does her best to keep everyone away from him. She reschedules what she can and glares at anyone who even approaches his office. But even she can't keep out the only name partner in the firm, and just after lunch Jessica strides into his office.
Harvey sits at his desk, chair turned to the windows, his feet up on the ledge and a baseball idly moving from hand to hand. He's been staring out the window for the better part of an hour, but he just can't concentrate. God knows he tried, tried burying himself in work, but it didn't work. All it did was remind him that Mike was no longer around to palm things off onto, he wasn't here to mark the files with his color coded highlighting, he wasn't here to interrupt Harvey's work by coming into the office uninvited and unannounced.
"Harvey," Jessica says, and at the sound of her voice Harvey lets out a deep sigh before spinning on his chair and turning to face her.
Jessica physically softens before him as she takes in Harvey's appearance, his tired expression. She sits down on the chair at the other side of his desk and says, "I heard what happened."
Harvey nods but avoids her gaze. He figured the Bar Association would report the outcome of their meetings, that Mike had fooled Harvey and all of Pearson Hardman into thinking he was qualified when he wasn't, that Harvey had testified that he had no idea Mike was a fraud. The lie had tasted so bitter on his tongue, and he never imagined lying under oath in this way. He could stomach perjuring himself to protect Mike, but lying to denounce him made his skin crawl.
"You did the right thing," Jessica continues when he remains silent.
Harvey nods absently. Intellectually, he knows he did what needed to be done, did the only thing he could in the circumstances. There was no other way out of that situation, not one that didn't bring down himself and Donna and Jessica (and by extension all of Pearson Hardman). But that didn't change the fact that it still felt wrong.
"Mike will be okay," Jessica adds, and it's his name on Jessica's lips that finally gets Harvey's head to snap up, to meet her eyes.
"I hope you're right," Harvey replies, vainly hoping that by contributing to the conversation it will expedite its conclusion.
Jessica continues to stare at him, and Harvey feels naked and so very exposed beneath her gaze.
"Harvey, I know you cared for him-"
"Don't, Jessica. Just don't," Harvey interrupts, voice hard. He doesn't want to hear it. Whatever it is (whether it's her saying he needs to hire someone new or reach out to Mike or comment on the exact nature of their relationship or anything else) he just doesn't want to hear it right now.
Jessica nods, stands and exits the office, leaving him be (at least for now). Harvey watches her go, and when his eyes meet Donna's he can't take that sympathetic look on her face. He pulls out his cell and texts Mike, because they need to talk. He just sends a quick 'call me' message and attempts to get back to work.
By the time Harvey makes it home that night he has sent Mike three text messages and left one (admittedly short) voice mail. Mike hasn't contacted him.
Harvey vacillates between being pissed off and being worried. Even though it's close to midnight, he tries calling one last time, sighing when it goes through to voicemail.
"Mike, it's me. I don't know why you're avoiding me, whether you're mad at me or just want nothing to do with me anymore. And if so, I'd understand. But you have to believe me when I say that this wasn't how I wanted things to play out. Please call me. I want to help you. We need to talk. I don't care if it's 2am, just call."
He readies for bed, mentally exhausted despite the fact that he got virtually no work done today. He felt numb, in shock. He still can't believe that it actually happened. He knows that it did, because Mike never showed for work and Donna cleaned out his cubicle and Louis cornered him in the bathroom to ask if the rumor was true (and when Harvey confirmed it was he got to listen to Louis rant for ten minutes about the betrayal he felt – and Harvey squeezed his fists tight to refrain from punching him in the fucking face). But it still just feels so surreal.
When he wakes the next morning the first thing he does is check his phone. No missed calls or messages. He decides he's had enough and when Ray picks him up tells him they are detouring to Mike's place.
He knows he is being selfish, not leaving Mike alone and giving him the time he asked for, that Mike is going through something much bigger than he is. But the need in him to see Mike, to talk to him, it's visceral, even borderline ugly. It twists and turns inside him. He doesn't know why he is suddenly so desperate, but he is.
He wishes he could be surprised when he pounds on Mike's apartment door and there is no answer. He calls his name, keeps banging. He calls Mike's cell, but he can't hear it ringing in the apartment, so with a resigned sigh he accepts that Mike isn't home and heads into work.
It's after lunch when he receives the email.
Harvey is swimming in paperwork from the Harrison/Adams merger and the little chime his laptop makes to indicate a new email barely penetrates his focus. He glances at his inbox, the bolded line indicating a new email from failedtonotbeawesome@gmail.com.
He goes back to work, but after a mere three seconds the penny drops. He looks back to his laptop so quickly he wonders if he'll have neck pain from whiplash later, and when the subject line says I can get us two tickets to Buenos Aires and have the chopper on the helipad in ten minutes any doubt is immediately removed.
He drops his pen, swivels in his chair to properly face the monitor as he opens the email. There is a photo attachment called 'me at teatro colon' so he opens that first. He is greeted with the image of Mike standing outside a large light grey concrete building, but he focuses on Mike's face. He is smiling, relaxed, looks happy. He closes the image and reads the email.
Hi.
So, I just got all your texts and voicemails. Sorry if I worried you or anything.
I'm kinda not in New York anymore. Please don't be pissed. I'm sorry for bailing without calling or anything but after everything that happened I just needed to get away. And I knew if I spoke to you or saw you it would make leaving ten times harder.
I don't regret it, Harvey. Of course I wish that tennis playing douche hadn't found out our secret, but I'm glad that I could save you and Jessica from my disgrace. So if you're feeling even an ounce of guilt or remorse, don't. It was never going to last, we both know that. And I'm so glad we lasted as long as we did.
So, if you haven't opened the picture yet (and couldn't tell by the subject line) I'm in Buenos Aires. :O) I went to the airport and wouldn't you know it, the first flight I could get on was to the same place you joked we should flee to when Jessica found out. Serendipity in action, my friend.
I've only been here a few hours, but it's amazing. It's so beautiful here. There are so many things I want to see, not just here but all over the world. I've never really had the means or opportunity to travel before, but I have both now. Thanks to you.
I gotta go now. Talk soon. :O)
M.
Harvey reads the email three times before it starts making sense. Mike has fled to Buenos Aires. Even re-opening the attached photo and staring at it for two minutes straight doesn't help make sense of things any quicker.
He can't believe Mike did this, that he just cut and run. While part of him is relieved that Mike hasn't disappeared into a dark hole of drugs and alcohol, he is mostly pissed that despite everything he up and left without a word. Harvey hits the reply button, but thinks better of actually typing anything. He goes back to his paperwork, decides he needs a bit of time and space to get his thoughts in order so he doesn't send something he regrets.
It's over an hour later when he gets around to replying. He spends more time than he cares to admit writing it all out, deleting whole paragraphs (they were too much, too mean, too heartfelt), trying to find the exact right words. He idly realises how much easier it is to talk to Mike when he is right there, when they can communicate anything worth saying with a simple look. Words are harder. In the end he gives up and sends:
Mike,
I'm glad you're safe. But next time you skip the country do me a favour and let me know first.
I am sorry that this happened. And I still can't believe you did what you did. I suppose I should say thank you. And it's not that I'm not grateful. I am. But I'm still pissed – at Tanner for being the prick that he is, at you for giving up so easily when we could've found a way out, at me for not fixing this like I should have.
Robertson was asking after you this morning. I told him you'd quit, found a job at Legal Aid. I didn't know what else to say.
Where did you leave the Lagos & Paone briefs? I've looked everywhere but can't find them.
Harvey.
It takes three days for Jessica to bring up getting a new associate. Harvey glares at her, but she is immune to that now, and presses on regardless.
"Harvey, you need an associate. And Mike isn't coming back."
"I know that," Harvey snaps. It's not like he's hoping for some last minute plot twist that saves the day so Mike can come waltzing through his office door complete with scruffy hair and skinny tie. He is well aware that Mike isn't coming back.
But that doesn't mean he's ready to replace him yet either.
"Not yet, Jessica."
Jessica shakes her head sadly and says, "I'll give you a week. If you don't want to find someone by then I'll find them for you."
He nods absently, already focused back on his laptop. He can hear Jessica leave but doesn't acknowledge it, just keeps working. It's something to focus on, getting lost in the legal jargon. It's familiar, easy, like coming home after a long break away. It's something to keep his mind from wandering.
And then, as if he had heard them talking about him, an email from Mike appears in his inbox with the subject line: when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio
Harvey can't help but smile, immediately opening the email.
I'm not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination, but I get why millions flock to the Christ the Redeemer statue every year. It is one of the most impressive things I have ever seen.
Tomorrow I'm planning on going paragliding at Pedra Bonita. I met this girl from Switzerland this morning who did it and says it's amazing. I can't wait.
I feel like I should be seeing every sight and eating at every restaurant, but all I want to do is just lie on a beach all day. :O) I'm still finding it difficult to shut my mind off, to not think about home in New York. But it gets easier every day. Maybe one day soon I'll wake up and my first thought won't be of having to get up to go into work.
Hope everything is good on your end.
M.
Harvey opens the attached picture to find a picture Mike obviously took of himself, half his face taking up the picture and a blurry shape Harvey can only assume is the Christ the Redeemer statue in the background.
Harvey immediately hits the reply button and starts typing.
Mike,
What would possess anyone to strap themselves to a total stranger and jump off a cliff with nothing but a lightweight material to keep them from plummeting to the ground? If for no other reason than my sanity, please don't do it. (And no, there is no need to point out the contradiction to my risk taking in day to day life and my complete aversion to any extreme sports. I'm self-aware enough already thanks).
Jessica is making me hire someone to replace you. Want to come back under an assumed identity? We can create a foolproof background first so no one will know. Maybe change your appearance slightly so no one realizes it's you.
Just kidding. (not really)
Would you believe Louis actually came and asked for my help yesterday? I wish I had his Dictaphone to record the moment for posterity. I didn't even make him beg (at least, not for more than thirty seconds). I may have, however, insisted he refer to me only as Mr Specter until the problem was solved (a mere hour later – sometimes I'm too smart for my own good).
And now I'm going back to working on the InterMedia case. The inept CEO wants to go to court. You would think when they're paying a thousand bucks an hour that they would actually listen to my advice, but apparently despite my qualifications and experience they still know better.
Look after yourself.
Harvey
Jessica hires a new associate for him when it becomes clear he wants nothing to do with the process and won't actually hire anyone himself. Her name is Amie Davenport, sixth in her class at Harvard, young, pretty, ambitious. She immediately reminds Harvey of Jessica, so he isn't too worried about being stuck with an annoying and incompetent Harvard douche. He gives her tasks and sends her off. He is genial and instructional and sprouts the occasional piece of advice and that's it. No more, no less.
He knows nothing of her family situation or personal life. He doesn't exchange movie and book quotes with her. There are no wayward friends to rescue, no lies to conceal, no innuendo laden banter. It's simple and professional.
And it makes him miss Mike all the more.
If he's honest, he's surprised by the sharp relief that working with Amie gives to his relationship with Mike, because everything with Mike had felt so natural and instinctive, right from the start. And while he knew they didn't have the same kind of relationship as most bosses had with their subordinates, he thought it was just their shared secret that was the cause of the change. But he realizes now that it wasn't that at all. It was just Mike. It was just the way they fit together, like the easiest thing in the world. He's never had that with anyone before. He can't imagine having it with anyone else.
Harvey doesn't hear from Mike for a nearly week. He doesn't panic, he doesn't go about checking his email multiple times an hour, and he definitely doesn't google 'Pedra Bonita paragliding accident'.
He finally gets an email on the Saturday morning, after returning from his building's gym. It's time stamped for nearly an hour ago, the bolded subject line stating Helvetiorum Fidei ac Virtuti. He sits on the couch, uncaring about his sweaty and smelling clothes, and opens the email.
There is a picture attachment, which Harvey opens first. It's a picture of a carving in a stone wall: a lion, mournful, dying, as it lies on a shield. For once there is no smiling Mike looking at him, just the somber stone carving. He minimizes the picture and starts reading.
Sorry I haven't written in so long. I've hopped continents and am now in gorgeous Europe.
Remember that Swiss girl I told you about? She convinced me to visit her homeland so here I am. Her place is just outside of Lucerne, so I've spent the last few days crashing on her couch and exploring the region.
It's so peaceful here. So picturesque. I've eaten my entire body weight in chocolate and have crossed the Chapel Bridge a dozen times. The people are so friendly, despite my completely terrible German - apparently while my eidetic memory helps me memorize useful sayings it's of no help when it comes to actually being able to pronounce them correctly.
I went and saw the Lion of Lucerne this morning. It's honestly one of the most powerful monuments I've ever seen. Even now I'm still affected by it, its power and beauty. I think I stood there and stared at it for an hour straight. I don't know why it got to me. Maybe it's the quiet sadness of it, the simple elegance of a picture saying more than a thousand words ever could.
Anyway, I'll stop waxing poetic because I'm sure you've probably caused yourself an injury from the amount of eyerolling you did while reading the last paragraph.
The road leads ever on. Not sure where I'll land next, but I'll keep you posted.
M.
Harvey doesn't do jealousy, so it never even occurs to him that the thought of Mike hooking up with this random girl and travelling the world with her sits as an ache, low in his stomach. He dismisses the feeling as having gone too hard on the treadmill, and he gets up off the couch to go shower.
He saves Mike's photo as his desktop background. But he doesn't reply to the email.
When Mike emails a couple of days later Harvey doesn't open it.
Well, for an hour.
The subject line is blank for once, so he has no idea what's in store for him. He just takes a deep breath and starts reading.
Venice is amazing. But it needs way less winding lanes for me to get lost in.
I'm back to travelling by myself. As cool as it was having someone around to share the sights with I kinda like being back by myself again. Karin was cool, but the whole time we hung out I couldn't help but feel like something was missing.
I bought a mask today (see attached). I don't know how I'm going to travel with it without it breaking into a thousand pieces. I thought about sending it home, but there would be no one there to receive it. Maybe I'll send it to you. :O)
Anyway, apparently these types of masks were used by doctors back in the day to ward off disease. I just bought it because it reminded me of that random guy in the ballroom scene in Labyrinth.
I think I finally have this travelling thing down now. Would you believe I went two whole days without thinking about Pearson Hardman (well, except for you of course, but it's not the same). Look at that for progress.
Off to the country's capital next. Fingers crossed I don't get killed in a car accident thanks to an insane cab driver (because there are some stereotypes that are accurate).
M.
Harvey opens the email to see a picture of what he assumes is Mike, his face obscured by a dark mask with what he can only describe as a long beak. He hits reply straight away, smiling as he types.
Mike,
Your complete lack of appreciation of history is unbecoming. Seriously – you bought a mask because it reminded you of something you saw in a kid's movie. You are ridiculous.
Okay, I would've done the same thing.
You'll be glad to know Jessica hired an associate to replace you. She's very nice and capable, and doesn't spend half her work day flirting with the paralegal staff, so I call that an upgrade on my previous employee. ;-)
I think Donna met someone. She's become suddenly cagey about her calls and has brought me eleven coffees in the last three days from a coffee shop two blocks away. I know I'm an awesome boss and that I function better on a good strong coffee, but that's excessive even for me.
Oh, and Louis mentioned you this morning. Would you believe he used you as an example to his own associate about what amount of work should be done in a given timeframe? If you ever wanted a legacy, there it is.
Harvey.
It continues on like that for weeks. Mike sends him an email at least every other day from whatever city he has landed in (Rome, Paris, Munich, Amsterdam). He attaches a photo of himself at various landmarks each time (The Mouth of Truth, Musee D'Orsay, Hofbräuhaus, the canals…). Each email comes with a few paragraphs about the city, what he's seen and who he has met.
And Harvey replies to each one, telling him about life back in New York, the antics of their co-workers (okay, he supposes they are just his co-workers now), what he is working on. If he is feeling generous he might reference something in Mike's email, even though Mike never returns the favor.
With each passing day it feels stranger. It's like crossed wires, this obvious desire to interact but their complete inability to talk about anything that actually matters. They never talk about Tanner and the hearing, or Mike's return to New York, or the fact that sometimes Harvey will be hit with a sudden pang in his chest when he thinks about Mike so far away.
It was just so much easier to talk when they were in the same room, when half the time they didn't even need to use actual words. All it took was a look, a grimace or a smile, a small nod or quick eye-roll. But he misses the words too. The banter and quotes, the way their words would trigger thoughts and solutions in the other.
He misses the everyday ease. He misses Mike.
He gets an email one afternoon, subject line will you let me romanticize the beauty in our London skies and Harvey can only assume Mike has landed in merry old England.
He opens the email, but all he is greeted with is:
Wish you were here.
There is a photo attached, of Mike standing in front of a large stone lion, in Trafalgar Square. But Harvey closes it quickly and returns his gaze to the words of his email. All four of them.
He genuinely doesn't know how to process this one. What happened to all the touristy stuff, of Mike's wonderful, but seemingly random, thoughts?
He closes the emails and physically stands and walks away from his desk, turns to look out the window. He can feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and he tells himself it's just from the surprise, not because he wishes he was there too.
It's a lie he tries with all his might to believe.
Mike sends him an email at pretty much the same time, every single day, for the next week. He is travelling around England, and there are lots of photos of pretty villages, massive stone castles, green landscapes, white beaches. And each email has the exact same message.
Wish you were here.
Harvey hasn't replied to one email. It's not for lack of trying. Every email he receives he hits the reply button and stares at the screen for minutes on end, fingers hovering over his keyboard, but no words are forthcoming.
What the fuck is he supposed to say? That he misses Mike. That he wishes he was there with him too. That he wishes Mike was back here in New York, at Pearson Hardman, with him. They don't have that kind of relationship, and they don't say shit like that to each other. Even if he feels it with every fiber of his being.
When today's email comes through he's at a meeting, but it's only been sitting in his inbox for fifteen minutes when he returns to his desk. Amie is talking at him but he can't hear anything she says because instead he opens the email, focuses on the picture of Mike sitting in a grand Victorian sitting room, stares at those same words.
Wish you were here.
He hits reply, types a message, unthinking, his fingers moving of their own volition. He stares at his reply, just three little words, and then with a deep breath he hits send.
Do you really?
He feels the rush of uncertainty tinged with regret as soon as the email disappears, the breath leaving his body in a shaky exhale. He plants his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on his linked fingers, stares at the screen (at which point Amie sighs heavily and leaves the room).
When his email gets a reply within minutes, he isn’t surprised. He just knew Mike would still be there, waiting for his reply, that Harvey's breaking of his silence would get an immediate response.
When he opens the email he is greeted with:
Yes, I do. I wish you were here.
Harvey is up off his chair like an electric shock, immediately pacing the length of his office as his mind buzzes. He's gotten a good dozen laps in before Donna enters his office, closing the door behind her.
"Tell me I'm not this crazy," Harvey says.
Donna watches him continue to prowl the office like a caged animal and replies, "Oh, you are definitely crazy."
Harvey throws her a look, which she matches with a sterner one of her own.
"What is it?"
"Tell me I'm not actually thinking of flying across the world just to see my former associate."
Donna remains silent, and when he finally looks up at her she is smiling. "I can't believe you actually realized that the two of you are crazy about each other."
Harvey stops the pacing and flat out glares at her. "We are not-"
"Harvey, you're thinking of flying across the world to meet him. Swimming in the river of denial is no longer an option."
Harvey finally stops pacing, collapsing in a heap onto the couch. He feels every atom of willpower seep from his body and he physically deflates. He will forever look back at this as the exact moment he resigned himself to the inevitable.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he says plaintively, like if he implores Donna hard enough she will snap her fingers and put everything back to normal.
Donna sits opposite him, smiles kindly at him. "He's a good guy, Harvey. You could do much worse."
"This isn't who I am," he protests, even though it sounds feeble to his own ears. Because while he's comfortable with his position on the Kinsey scale (a solid two) he's never wanted anything real or meaningful with anyone before, male or female. And he cares too much about Mike for this not to be an all or nothing deal. But he has subsided on one night stands and casual relationships for too long, and he doesn't know how to do this, for it to mean something.
"On the contrary, I think this is who you've always been. You just never wanted to admit it."
Donna leaves him alone after that, walks out of the room confident in leaving a swirling mess of thoughts and feelings behind.
An hour later Harvey calls Donna into his office and says, "Book me on a flight to London and clear my schedule for a week."
She grins, retreats to her desk, and is back in record time with a flight and hotel confirmation. He is leaving tomorrow night, catching a 9pm flight which should get him in at around nine the next morning. The booking is first class, and she's reserved him the Park Suite at The Dorchester for the first three nights.
He reads through it all as she says, "You've got the meeting with McGregor tomorrow which you can't miss, but I've cleared your schedule for the rest of this week and all next week."
"I love you."
"I know."
Harvey does a quick mental calculation of how much time he will need to get through customs and get into the city to check in to his hotel and freshen up before he opens the latest email from Mike, hits reply, and types a quick message. He stares at the words for a few seconds, then with a deep breath, hits send.
Meet you at Trafalgar Square on Thursday at 2pm.
It takes all of Harvey's effort to not pace as he waits for Mike. He tries sitting on the steps, because you can't pace when you're stationary, but he's back up on his feet less than a minute later. He keeps looking around, trying to catch sight of a familiar face, sandy blond hair, an easy grin he missed more than he realized.
The square is much bigger than he anticipated, but he waits by Nelson’s Column because that's where Mike was when he took the photo to send home to Harvey. As a landmark it works well, because a few minutes later he hears a low and awed, "Harvey?"
Harvey turns and is greeted with the sight of Mike, a few steps away. Mike looks surprised, like he thought this was all just a cruel joke, like he can't believe Harvey actually came. But then his face breaks into the largest smile Harvey's ever seen and he rushes forward, greeting Harvey with his arms thrown around his shoulders, nearly causing the older man to tumble backwards with the enthusiasm of his hug. Harvey laughs and returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Mike's back. And then they're kissing, mouths moving together urgently, Mike's hands framing his face. Harvey will never be able to say who moved first, but it doesn't matter, because it's everything they've ever needed, desperate and deep and so fucking real. And Harvey doesn't care if the whole city has stopped to witness this embrace, because this is more important than anything he has ever done, and if they want to witness it then so be it.
When Mike pulls away it's only enough to look Harvey in the eyes, to smile brightly at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. Harvey doesn't even feel that shock of revolt at such an emotional display, because he fucking missed Mike, all of him, overemotional idiot that he can sometimes be, and when those emotions are directed at him, when he is looking at Harvey like he wants to laugh and cry and sing and scream all at once, how could he not be anything but happy about it?
Mike presses his hands to Harvey's face, runs his fingers through his hair, presses his fingertips to his cheeks, traces his eyebrows and moles and lips. "You're really here," Mike whispers.
Harvey grins, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm really here."
They crash through Harvey's hotel room door, only just righting themselves before they fall to the floor, too distracted by each other's mouths and getting the other naked as soon as humanly possible. It was a process they started in the lift, which thankfully they were alone in, because at that point they were so desperate Harvey didn't think the presence of another person would have stopped them anyway. In the safety of Harvey's hotel room they can drop the clothes they hold in their hands (Harvey's jacket, Mike's t-shirt), and continue stripping each other. It becomes decidedly difficult to remove all the layers and cross the living area into the bedroom while not physically removing their tongues from each other's mouths, so with a groan Harvey breaks away, wraps his fingers around Mike's wrist and leads him to the bedroom. Even that is too much for Mike, who wretches his wrist free from Harvey's grip so he can instead follow Harvey with his hands to his hips as he walks behind the older man, following close enough that he can press his mouth to the back of Harvey's neck.
Once inside the bedroom Harvey growls with impatience and turns, claiming Mike's mouth once more, pressing his tongue in like it physically pains him when he isn't kissing Mike. Now with the added advantage of standing in the one spot they can strip each other (well, mostly themselves, because in their desperation they just mostly end up getting in each other's way) of every layer until they can finally press together, skin to skin.
Harvey pushes Mike down to the bed and follows quickly after, positioning himself in the cradle of Mike's hips. He presses a mouth to his sternum, works down to the flat of Mike's stomach, roams the palm of his hand over every piece of skin he can touch. Mike writhes beneath him, breathing labored, and he slowly makes his way up Mike's torso and chest and neck. He can feel Mike's cock hardening where it presses against his chest, and he wraps a hand around it, starting to pump.
"Do you have-" Mike starts, but then Harvey kisses him, stealing the words from his throat.
It's deep but quick, and Harvey gets up and reaches into the nightstand for the condoms and lube.
"You came prepared," Mike remarks with a smirk.
Harvey can't help the quiet laughter as he replies, "I think a more accurate word is hopeful."
Harvey sits back on his heels as he gets the condom rolled on. Mike sits and takes the lube from his hand and when Harvey is ready he quickly covers him in a thin layer, one hand thoroughly covering every inch of his cock. He nibbles at the jut of Harvey's hipbone, presses open mouthed kisses to his lower stomach, all the while his hand steadily pumps, and Harvey can't help but moan, head thrown back.
But Harvey's desperate now, wants to be inside Mike, feels it like a visceral need that he can't help but obey. He bends down and presses his mouth to Mike's, gently easing him back onto the bed, falling between Mike's open legs.
He takes himself in hand and positions himself at Mike's hole, pressing in with a gasp he can hear Mike echo. When he is sheathed he stills for a moment as Mike adjusts, breathing deep. After a few moments Mike nods subtly and Harvey starts moving.
And he is suddenly hit by a realization that this is Mike - Mike - this is his best friend, the only person in the whole fucking world who could undo him, and the thought should keep him slow and steady but it has the opposite effect, making Harvey wild and desperate. He pushes in deep, and he hooks a hand behind Mike's left knee, lifts it up above his shoulder, slides his body even closer. Mike makes a frankly pornographic noise at this turn of events, and Harvey smiles wolfishly at him.
They start fucking in earnest, hard and deep. Mike clutches at him, pulls him closer as if he's desperate for more, like the fact that nearly every inch of their bodies is pressed together still isn't enough.
They go through nearly half a dozen positions, not because it isn't good, but because it's so fucking amazing they want to experience everything in the here and now, are greedy for every possible pleasure that their bodies can conjure. Mike rolls them so he's on top, knees digging into the mattress as he rides Harvey hard, palms pressing into his chest and his head thrown back, moaning into the silence of the room. After a few minutes Harvey sits, Mike adjusting his legs so they wrap around him, sinking even further onto Harvey's cock. They kiss languidly, arms wrapped around each other as they roll their hips.
Harvey is not the least bit surprised by how vocal Mike is during sex. His mouth spills a never-ending litany of single word sentences, punctuated by a variety of indescribable sounds that just get Harvey's heart rate going even faster, his thrusts even quicker. For his part, Harvey doesn't say a word, too far gone to be capable of forming words, let alone actual sentences.
With one last kiss, Harvey pushes Mike back onto the bed, the younger man falling easily. Harvey carefully withdraws, both of them groaning at the loss, and with a few quick maneuvers Mike is on his stomach, legs spread and Harvey is entering him again, his whole body atop Mike's, thrusting hard and fast. Harvey buries his face in the crook of Mike's neck, inhales the scent of sweat and sex and Mike, and Mike's fingers briefly thread through his hair before his hand grips hard, encouraging. Harvey increases his tempo as much as he's able, movements frantic, and Mike cries Harvey's name, drives his ass back and forth in perfect counter of Harvey's thrusts.
Harvey does briefly wonder if their first time should be completely different, slow and intimate, but then Mike starts rambling about you feel so fucking good and wanted this for so long and oh fuck, Harvey and the older man can't regret anything, knows they have plenty of time for soft and romantic later. This is about confirmation, a desperate desire to declare that this is who they are meant to be.
Harvey stops moving, kisses down Mike's spine as he withdraws once more. "Come here," he murmurs, and Mike looks over his shoulder, sees the older man lying on his back and Mike straddles him, his back to Harvey, sinks down once more. His feet and palms are flat on the bed and Harvey's hands wrap around his hips as he bounces up and down. The angle is fucking perfect, but they are both desperate now. Mike's movements become erratic as he speeds closer to the inevitable. Harvey's countering thrusts are so fucking quick and he wants to see Mike's face, but will settle for tearing those desperate sounds from his throat.
"Fuck, oh fuck," Mike cries. Harvey's whole body is warm and slick, and he's so fucking close. Mike loses the strength to keep himself upright, slowly falling back onto Harvey's chest, his head tipped over Harvey's shoulder and pressing into the mattress. Harvey can't help but nibble on the length of his bared neck, teeth scrapping against exposed skin. They're still joined and Harvey doesn't stop moving, running a hand down Mike's stomach to wrap around his cock.
"I wanna come, Harvey," Mike all but begs. "Fuck. Make me come. Please. Oh God…"
Harvey can do nothing but obey. He shifts out from under Mike slightly, so Mike's top half is flat against the mattress but from the waist down he's twisted on his side. Harvey is curled up beside him, thrusting hard, hand hooked under Mike's knee, holding his leg in mid-air to keep him open and pliant. The best thing about this position is that Mike is right there and Harvey can kiss him, so he does just that, licking into his mouth as he fucks him. Mike gets an arm underneath Harvey, wraps it around him so he can get them that much closer. Even when they break apart, too worked up, they can't bear to move away, faces pressed together as they breathe the same air.
Harvey gets a hand to Mike's cock and with but a few brief strokes Mike comes, groaning Harvey's name between a list of expletives. Harvey keeps moving until he comes too, pressing in as hard as he can, his whole body taut as he finally stills.
They both all but collapse, bodies relaxing but not moving, their labored breathing echoing in the room, and Harvey is still in Mike when he kisses him like he'll never get the chance to again.
It takes a good day and a half for them to leave the hotel room.
Yes, there is sex, and lots of it. But it's more Harvey and Mike reacclimatizing to each other, finally saying all the words they could never say in their ridiculously bad emails.
"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Harvey asks, and Mike has the grace to look remorseful about it.
"Because I knew if I saw you, I wouldn’t go. That you'd try and convince me to stay, to try and figure out a solution. Because you, my friend, for all your intelligence, can be amazingly idiotic sometimes. You have to know that there is nothing we could've done."
"That's not true."
Mike laughs, because, okay, Harvey can admit it, when it comes to Mike he has a bit of a blind spot, and Mike is nothing short of amused by his dogged refusal to acknowledge reality about this. "Harvey, Travis fucking Tanner reported us to the Bar. I told them I didn't have a JD. There is literally no way out of a situation like that."
"Maybe…" Harvey admits, the closest he will ever get to conceding on this topic.
"You would have kept on trying for forever, and while I appreciate your intentions, it just would have dragged the whole thing out, been more painful for both of us in the long run. I needed to make a clean break."
"I'm not sure how clean it was, given you emailed me a few days later."
"Well," Mike grins, "just because I wanted a clean break, doesn't mean I didn’t miss you and immediately regret leaving."
"You did?" Harvey asks, perking up.
"Of course. Intellectually I knew it was the best decision, but it was still fucking hard."
Harvey kisses him then, soft and heartfelt. He slides a hand beneath Mike's t-shirt, fingers splayed wide over his ribs.
"Can I ask you something?" Harvey says.
Mike quirks an eyebrow, like he can't believe Harvey is even asking for permission. But then he nods his assent.
"When did you know? About … us?"
Mike smiles shyly, averting his gaze, embarrassed. Harvey presses a gentle kiss to his temple in encouragement but otherwise waits for Mike to be ready.
"I only ever thought it was something that might happen when you said you were coming to London to see me. But as for when I started to fall for you … if I had to pinpoint a moment, it was probably … the second you hired me."
Harvey looks at Mike, incredulous. If Mike asked him the same thing, he wouldn't be able to say exactly when it was he fell for Mike, only that he realized after Mike left. But for Mike to have known all this time, for him to have felt this all this time, it's something Harvey struggles to wrap his mind around. But then Mike kisses him, rolls his body so he lies atop Harvey as the kiss deepens, hands roam.
Mike doesn't ask when Harvey knew, because he doesn't fucking care.
For all that Harvey pretends to be a man of the world, in truth he has only been outside the good ole U S of A three times. Once when he was a kid, when his dad took them with him when he toured Canada for a month. Once when he was at Harvard, and his best friend was going to Cabo for a post exams celebration and dragged Harvey with him. And once when he went to Tokyo for a week during which he spent the whole time working on the sale of a Japanese company to an American one.
So he's never really done this, vacationing for fun, and never once with someone he's involved with. It's better than he ever imagined. They get up at whatever the fuck time they want, go and explore the city, hit all the touristy spots (a flight on the London Eye, a few hours roaming the Tate Museum, seeing a show in the West End, taking one of the Yeoman Warder led tours of the Tower of London…), and eat at the best restaurants before collapsing into bed to spend the next hour in their continuing quest to learn every inch of each other's bodies.
After a few days Harvey suggests they get out of the city and explore further afield. Mike basically looks happy to do whatever Harvey wants, and starts rattling off suggestions of where to go.
"Dorset is beautiful. Or we could check out the Lake District, get out into nature for a bit. Or Ireland, love all those accents, man. Or we could jump a train to Europe. Paris is so beautiful. Or we could go somewhere neither of us have been. I didn't really get a chance to spend much time in Spain. Or Austria, I've heard Austria is amazing..."
Harvey just laughs, kisses Mike to stop him from talking, and that of course leads to the removing of clothes and the complete lack of rational conversation. When they are curled up in bed, Harvey spooned behind Mike, his fingertips drawing idle patterns on his stomach, he whispers, "Let's go to Paris."
Harvey would never admit that he buys into the cliché of Paris being the city of love (insists it's the city of lights when Mike gushes about the romance of it all when they look over the sparkling city from the top of the Eiffel Tower as dusk falls), but he doesn't have to. Because Mike just looks at him like he can see right through the lie, and kisses him, soft and gentle and so full of love. And really, Harvey can admit to himself that he chose Paris because he wanted something romantic with Mike, that he thinks after everything they've been through they both deserve it, to just be two lovers lost in the city, like everyone else gets to be.
So they continue doing the tourist thing, walking all day and eating delicious but unhealthy food and making love as many times as they have the energy to. Because fuck it, Paris is romantic, and Mike is amazing, and he wants to make every moment count because he knows it won't last forever.
Indeed, the week goes by in the blink of an eye, and Harvey sits forlornly on the couch as the weight of tomorrow looms before him. Mike isn't here, has disappeared on a 'supply run' and Harvey is grateful for the space and silence.
They've been very careful to not talk about their relationship or the future in any way. Mike never asked how long Harvey was staying, and Harvey never supplied the information. He doesn't know why, maybe it was just as simple as he was enjoying himself too much to want to think about leaving. But there is no ignoring it any longer.
Mike enters the suite, dropping the plastic bag onto a table as he moves into the room. Harvey looks up and sees Mike standing before him. He smiles lightly at the younger man but soon averts his gaze, and Mike shifts forward, sinking onto his lap. He gently kisses Harvey and asks, "Penny for your thoughts?"
Harvey takes a deep breath but manages to look Mike in the eyes when he says, "I'm going back to New York tomorrow."
Mike physically deflates before him, and Harvey slips a hand beneath his t-shirt, grips at the smooth skin beneath. "Oh."
"I want you to come back with me," Harvey continues.
And now it's Mike's turn to look away. It takes him a while to reply, but he eventually murmurs, "I can't."
"Why not?"
Mike looks back up, slides his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Harvey's neck, as if to soothe the words when he says, "When I met you two years ago I had a family, I had friends, I had an amazing job. And now I have none of those. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying those facts are in any way connected. It's just how I think about my life. It's demarcated into two separate stages – before I met you and everything that came after. But I've lost a lot, and there is nothing there for me anymore."
"There's me," Harvey says. And he can feel the regret well within, that they never talked about what they are to each other. Because it occurs to him for the first time that it's possible Mike thinks that this is just a vacation fuck, that Harvey isn’t so far in with Mike that he could never see a way out.
Mike smiles at him, kinda sad and empty, and it basically confirms everything that Harvey thinks, that Mike is assuming he's asking out of politeness or obligation or some other stupid reason. He thinks that Harvey doesn't mean this.
"Mike," Harvey says, soft but firm, hands cradling Mike's face to keep him in place, looking at Harvey, because he needs Mike to know that he is genuine when he tells him this. "I'm going to say this once, and if you still don't believe me or just don't care, then I'll never ask again, and you can stay here, okay?" At Mike's nod, Harvey continues with an earnest, "I love you. I'm in love with you. And I want you to come home to New York so we can be together."
Mike doesn't say anything at first, and Harvey thinks he's blown it, but then Mike smiles, even starts to giggle. At Harvey's frown Mike immediately says, "I'm sorry, it's just, that is probably the most matter-of-fact 'I love you' I've ever heard."
Harvey can't help but smile slightly, because, okay, Mike probably has a point. But he's never really done this before. He doesn't know how to make speeches and declarations about his feelings, doesn't know how to use flowery words. And maybe it's not romantic or epic, but that's kind of how he feels about Mike. It's simple, intrinsic, unquestionable, not up for discussion or debate. It is just a matter of fact.
But then Mike kisses him, soft at first before he presses in, deepens the embrace, and when he breaks away to say, "Okay, I'll come home with you," what Harvey really hears is I love you too.
---------
Title comes from the quote: Love doesn't hide. It stays and fights. It goes the distance, that's why love is so strong. So it can carry you all the way home.
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Date: 2013-05-17 09:18 am (UTC)I love that this fic feels so close to home, even when Mike's miles away. It's quiet, even in the vast nature of it.
Just really lovely.
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Date: 2013-05-19 03:26 am (UTC)Yeah, when I was writing those emails back and forth, where it's the only connection they have at that time, I wanted to try and write it so the tone and context was the same as it would be if they were in the same room, you know what I mean? Even though they were world's apart, they were still together.