Suits Big Bang : The Haunting (Or Something Lame Like That) by corsykitty : Rated R : Part 5/6
Part Five
Harvey came suddenly awake in the soft dim atmosphere of his bedroom. He blearily looked around, attempting to pinpoint the source of the disturbance, but there was nothing there. Mike was laying just as he'd arranged him before falling asleep, with his head turned away. Harvey checked his watch and groaned when he saw it was only a little after two A.M.
Mike gave a full body shudder next to him and his head flopped so that Harvey got a clear view of his face bathed in the gentle lights from outside; his expression was pained, and his brow was furrowed and twitching from fear. Harvey instinctively reached his good hand across his chest to grip Mike's shoulder and shake him awake, but paused just before making contact. He had no idea how Mike would react to being woken up like that, and he didn't want him to flail around and yank out his stitches or anything when Harvey couldn't hold him still. He grimaced and flopped back onto his pillow, watching Mike with concern and wondering which of the attacks he was dreaming about.
He let time slip away from him, just keeping an eye on Mike so that if anything serious did happen he'd be able to react in time to save Mike from any harm. Eventually it seemed that Mike's nightmare stopped, his face relaxing into an open and vulnerable expression. Harvey sighed, scooting closer and resting his hand on Mike's chest to rub small circles over his heart, rationalizing that it would comfort Mike (and not just himself.)
When he woke again, Mike's half of the bed was empty and his hand was carefully folded to lay on his chest. Harvey brought a hand up to rub his face and dragged himself out of bed in search of his wayward charge. In the living room he eyed the salt lines, debating whether it was wise to tempt fate and step outside of them to get his mail. He had no idea if the men from last night were going to be able to hold up their end of the deal, and knew he wasn't going to be able to get a hold of them to find out. He chuckled to himself over the oddity of them leaving behind salt but no phone number, and Mike's head peeked around the kitchen wall curiously.
“Something funny? Share,” he demanded, and Harvey stared at his hair, mesmerized. Mike's eyes narrowed and he smoothed a hand over it, confused.
“What?”
“You look like a startled baby bird,” Harvey said with wonder. Mike glared and huffed, quickly disappearing from view. Harvey chuckled to himself and turned back to find some clothes for the two of them to wear - he desperately needed to take a shower and get changed.
Finding clothes for Mike was harder than he'd expected. While he hadn't been much wider than Mike was now when he was that age, he had been much broader in the shoulders and fuller in the thighs. His search for a good suit was fruitless, so he grabbed some casual clothes. He'd just have to have Ray swing by Mike's apartment on their way to work. Mike was still clattering about in the kitchen when he came out to deliver the clothes, making Harvey nervous about what exactly it was he could be doing in there.
“Mike? Everything okay in there?” he called out in a sing-song voice, and Mike's head appeared around the wall again.
“It's fine, I'm just making breakfast. Don't worry about it,” Mike told him. Harvey reluctantly nodded and decided he needed a shower and some Ibuprofen before he could deal with this. He hadn't been awake for longer than 10 minutes and already his shoulder was killing him. This was probably the first time he'd seen Mike up in the morning with a full night's sleep, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it.
Harvey awkwardly peeled off his clothes, cradling his arm against his stomach as best he could, and stepped into his shower. This shower was a paragon of perfection that turned on at the exact pre-set temperature and pressure he liked most, and it might as well have cost him his firstborn. He let the stream beat the knots in the muscles of his back into submission, dropping his chin to his chest and emptying his mind of everything beyond the sheer soothing bliss. When his muscles were warm and loose and his mind clear, he soaped up, trying to see the attacks from a different angle. Those men last night really had him going, but in the light of day? It sounded just like the crazy tripe it was.
He rinsed off, shaking his head at the thought of himself being taken in like that at his age and with how much he'd seen. Yeah, they were definitely good at what they did - conning people. They must have planned this and found a guy who looked like Aaron to really seal the deal. He'd have to make sure the cleaning crew knew to check for anything missing. He dried off efficiently and studied himself in the mirror over the sink while he shaved. There weren't any obvious cuts on his hands or face, but the sling and not only the bandage on Mike's cheek but the way Mike must be moving with all those stitches would give them away in a second. There would be no use in lying to Donna, doubly so because she was always on his side, but the rest of the firm Harvey was sure he could handle. Except Jessica, she could be a problem. He couldn't tell her the truth, but he also couldn't lie. If he even tried, she'd know, and then she'd hound him even more.
He stared into the mirror, not bothering to try something as complicated as styling his hair beyond drying and combing it one-handed, and tried to think of an explanation Jessica would believe, growing frustrated with the effort. Harvey wasn't one to be unsure of anything, but he was unsure of everything right now and it was having a significantly detrimental effect on his ability to be decisive. He could try to convince himself that all of this was some elaborate con as much as he liked, but there was a niggling little voice in his head yelling that it was real and no rationalization would help. He gave up and drew his eyes quickly over his appearance, ducking into his room to dress once satisfied.
The silence from the kitchen caught his ear as he painfully buttoned his cuffs and made his way down the hall. He turned the corner, ready to pick at Mike's culinary skills, when the view that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. Mike's back was liberally littered with band-aids and butterfly bandages - the poor kid looked like a tacky domestic violence PSA, or a band-aid commercial. Harvey couldn't stop a sharp bark from escaping at the unexpected sight, and Mike whipped around in surprise.
The view from this side was far more sobering, and Harvey hissed a breath in through his teeth. While Mike's back only had small cuts, his torso was a mess of thick white gauze and bruising, and combined with the fresh bandage on his neck, it made him look far more vulnerable than Harvey would like. He knew it had to be painful and suddenly wished he did have some of those painkillers to give to Mike. He didn't realize how bare his expressions were on his face until Mike rolled his eyes and brusquely pulled the shirt over his head. Or maybe it was just that Mike was getting better at reading him.
Whatever.
“I'm a big boy, Harvey, I can handle it. Pretty sure I've probably had worse, not that I can remember exactly when right now,” he said, turning his back and walking into the kitchen. “I fixed us breakfast. You can have some if you don't think I'm trying to poison you.”
Harvey followed him in at a more sedate pace, pushing down his concern in favor of Mike's own attitude towards his injuries. If Mike was going to insist he was fine, Harvey wasn't going to argue the point; it was better for his sanity that way. They dished up their respective plates in companionable silence, Harvey fixing his schedule for the day in his mind and Mike focusing on ignoring the pull of stitches in his gut.
“Would you rather we stop by your apartment to grab a suit or have me get Ray to do it?” Harvey asked once they were seated at the table. He took a bite of the eggs and was delightfully surprised that Mike wasn't a half-bad cook, at least when it was something as simple as scrambled eggs.
“Uh. How is Ray going to get in if I'm not there to let him in?” Harvey just gave him a look, and Mike held up his hands. “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
He paused in thought, dragging his fork absently through his eggs.
“Ray,” he finally said decisively. He kept his head low as he looked up at Harvey to gauge his reaction, so Harvey didn't give him one. He was having a rough few days; if ever there was a time for Harvey to cut him some slack, this was it. Harvey checked his watch and pulled out his cell to phone Ray - if the man was going to have time to pick some things up from Mike's apartment he was going to need to know sooner rather than later.
By the point closing time (or at least, what a normal person's idea of closing time would be) rolled around at Pearson Hardman, Harvey was feeling pretty secure about Mike's safety. Nothing unusual had occurred the entire day, and even Louis and the associates had stopped treading on eggshells around him. So much so, in fact, that Harvey was having a hard time locating his associate to check up on him one last time before ordering in dinner. It would probably be a good idea to have Mike stay with him for at least a few more days, until Harvey was sure that Mike was not only not going to be attacked again but was also dealing adequately with the trauma of seeing someone he knew die right in front of him.
Harvey finally found Mike holed up in the file room, surrounded by box upon box of files that presumably belonged to one of Louis's cases. He looked tired, sweaty, and pale with one arm curled around his stomach for support. Harvey squashed his emotions of concern ruthlessly; he might be more comfortable exhibiting them in his home, but at work it was best to avoid them altogether. Still, maybe he should invite Mike to join him in ordering out; he could probably use a break after his semi-vacation from hell.
Harvey dropped the folder he'd brought as a cover for his checking up on Mike on top of the papers Mike was reading and was disappointed by Mike looking up at him with no discernible reaction.
“Harvey,” he said blandly, checking his watch and opening the folder. “What's this?”
“It's nothing that can't wait, actually. Eaten yet? I swear you lose 10 pounds every time I turn my back,” Harvey said, lip curling in feigned disgust. “Youth, it's disgusting.”
Mike gave him a coy look and set down the papers he had been working on.
“Why, Harvey, as I live and breath. Are you asking me to dinner?” Mike asked, affecting a falsetto, complete with a Southern belle accent. Harvey stared at him flatly, unamused.
“Not if you keep that shit up, I'm not,” he said. Mike laughed and shoved his chair back with a sharp screech, not bothering to grab his jacket before coming around the table. His shoulder bumped Harvey's as they made their way to the elevators, and both men felt inexplicably lighter for the other's company.
Neither noticed the papers fluttering on the table behind them in a non-existent wind.
Harvey was almost done with his General Tsao's chicken before he realized that Mike was only picking at his chow mein. He'd spent most of dinner ignoring Mike the best he could after Mike had nagged to know what Harvey had told Jessica. That conversation was pretty high up on the list of conversations Harvey never wanted to go through again.
Now that he was thinking about it, Harvey realized that Mike had been reluctant at best about eating the breakfast he'd gone to the trouble to cook. A heavy feeling settled in his gut and he sighed, setting his chopsticks neatly next to his plate. Mike's shoulders tensed at the sound and he kept his eyes firmly on his carton of noodles, sensing what was coming.
“Do we need to talk about this, Mike?” Harvey asked. Mike's mouth twisted and he shrugged, at a loss for a feasible excuse. Harvey leaned back in his chair, settling in to wait Mike out - it didn't take long. Not even a minute passed before Mike resignedly dropped the fork in the carton and set it carefully on the low table in front of Harvey's office couch. He mirrored Harvey's pose, one hand picking at a loose button on his shirt cuff.
“It doesn't taste right,” he said, and if it had been anyone but Harvey that heard him say it they might not have read anything into it. It was Harvey, though, and he clearly heard the second, more serious meaning underlying the simple statement. It wasn't that the chow mein tasted off, it was that everything tasted off. A clear memory of Mike spitting blood into the gutter flashed across Harvey's mind, and his heart fluttered in his chest with sympathy.
“Aw, kid,” Harvey said. Mike still didn't meet his eyes, but the muscles in his shoulders loosened at the understanding Harvey had displayed. A contemplative silence hung between them as Harvey cast about in his memory for anything that could help with the taste, but this wasn't exactly a situation he'd found himself in before.
When the silence had stretched too long, Mike grabbed up the chow mein and darted an awkward glance up at Harvey.
“I can deal with this, it's not really a big thing.” He aimlessly twirled some noodles around his fork, the need to occupy his hands too strong to ignore. “It was like this for a while after my parents died. I didn't want to eat if they couldn't, and everything was tasteless anyway. So I didn't.”
Harvey honestly didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his peace, just sat there watching Mike stare into his food like it held the answer to all the world's problems. There were some things even the great Harvey Specter didn't know how to fix. Mike blinked and came out of his fugue, meeting Harvey's eyes with determination.
“That was a long time ago, and I'm old enough now to eat when I need to.” He proved his point by taking the bite he'd been playing with and chewing single-mindedly. Harvey conceded the point and tipped his head.
“All right, I'll take your word for it,” Harvey said, and was rewarded by the pleased satisfaction that lightened Mike's expression. He looked out the window at the night adorned by the lights in the surrounding buildings and back at the clock on his computer.
“Would you rather finish that up back at my place?” he asked, and watched the impulse to protest staying at his place again cross Mike's face. Common sense and the knowledge of Harvey's sheer awesomeness clearly won out and he didn't protest.
“That's fine. We leaving?”
“Yeah, I think we've done as much as we're going to tonight. Go get your stuff,” Harvey said, and Mike scurried off to grab his bag.
Harvey had all of their papers organized and ready to go and was impatiently waiting at the door a few minutes later, Mike nowhere in sight. He checked his watch irritably, knowing that there was no reason for Mike to be delayed like this at such a late hour in the office.
A shiver ran down his spine and he straightened abruptly when the thought that the ghost could be attacking Mike right now crossed his mind; with no return of the paranormal onslaught over the course of the day he'd managed to subdue the paranoid mutterings of his unsettled mind. The consequential guilt settled heavy on his shoulders like a mantle as he made his way warily to Mike's desk in the associate's area, hoping that Mike hadn't let his guard down due to the line of questioning he'd led him down.
Mike wasn't at his desk, and Harvey waffled as to where his associate might go besides his desk. He had an 'Aha!' moment when his roving gaze alighted on the hallway that housed the bathrooms. That should have been the first place he'd thought of, they'd been cooped up in his office for hours without either of them leaving even for the restroom. Neither of them had taken the strange orders from those men the previous night lightly, making sure that they were always tripping over each others' heels no matter how much of a hassle it was. At least, they hadn't until Mike disappeared some time after lunch to work in the file room.
The voices were audible even before Harvey came abreast with the doors, Louis' voice easily overpowering Mike's so that his was the only one Harvey could understand. He paused so he could get a handle on what the conversation was about before barging in.
“ - be hiding in Harvey's office. It sets a bad example for the other associates.”
Mike's voice piped up in protest, but Louis barreled over top of him.
“I heard about you wrangling the rest of the herd before you brought me that fax, and that makes you the leader. You have to pay attention to the front you present to other people, Mike, especially in this firm. It's a dog eat dog world out there.”
Harvey groaned in an echo of Mike at the cliché, unfortunately not surprised at the lame turn of phrase.
“I know, Louis, I wasn't hiding. Harvey needed me to go over - “
“Harvey needed, Harvey wanted, Harvey Harvey Harvey,” Louis said in a high-pitched nasally voice. “You're not solely under Harvey's purview, Mike, and if you can't figure out how to juggle the work he assigns you with the needs of the rest of the partners, maybe you're not as fit for this job as Harvey seems to believe. You need to make yourself available, even if that means you never go home and never sleep. Got it?”
This seemed like a good point to interrupt, and Harvey was surprised to find Mike's eyes already intent on the mirror as he entered. There was no way Mike had heard him waiting out in the hall, so it must be that he was worried about being trapped near the mirror. It dawned on Harvey then how hard the day must have been for Mike, what with glass being the weapon of choice in every attack. He gave Mike a quelling look and waited for the subtle nod in response before he came to a stop where Louis could see him.
“Louis,” Harvey said, feigning surprise. “We've got to stop spending time together in the restroom, people are going to talk. And with an associate? I don't think your reputation can take any more hits.”
He watched delightedly as Louis clenched his jaw and forced himself not to crack his neck. The rat-faced man spoke through his teeth, his swiftly rising blood pressure evident in his flushed cheeks.
“Harvey, I didn't realize you were still around,” he ground out, eyes cutting dangerously to Mike. “You're here to fetch your dog?”
Harvey smirked with amusement, giving a little whistle and patting his thigh just to yank Louis' chain. Mike obligingly trotted over to Harvey's side, panting and completely ignoring Louis. Harvey laughed at the twitch contorting one of Louis' eyes and guided Mike out of the bathroom, good hand settled in the curve of his back. Louis breathed deep and turned to look in the mirror, running his tongue over his teeth and inspecting them as he smoothed a hand over his close short hair.
The mirror cracked, its spidery tendrils distorting his reflection, and Louis froze.
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