Loss (Suits, Gen)
Loss
by Amity Bell
Havey sauntered up to Donna's desk.
"Donna, where's Mike?" She didn't look up from the file she was looking through, but lifted her eyebrows.
"I dunno, but he's definitely not here." Harvey gave her a fondly exasperated look and went into his office to call him. He needed those McKinley briefs for his meeting with the company's CEO this afternoon. The line was already ringing when he really looked at his office and noticed the briefs stacked haphazardly on his couch. He allowed himself a brief smile at Mike's ever-astonishing speed, and decided he'd rattle Mike's cage as a sort of reward. Also, to bitch about him leaving them in a mess in his space. His focus centered back on the phone when his call went to his associate's voice mail. Good mood vanished in a wave of irritation, he hit redial. This time the phone rang twice before it was picked up.
"Harvey?" The raw quality of Mike's voice gave Harvey pause, and he took a moment to reassess. Mike continued without waiting for an answer. "God, I forgot to call." Harvey heard some rustling and knew that Mike was rubbing one side of his face wearily. A look of concern settled on his face.
"Mike? What's going on?" Harvey asked quietly. The obvious concern in Harvey's voice undid Mike's control just a bit, and his breath hitched. He quickly discarded the idea of telling Harvey the truth, a heavy knot settling in his stomach at the thought of sharing something so personal. It just didn't seem like something they did.
"It's, it's nothing, I'm just not feeling very well. I don't want to infect the whole office and cause the firm to go under or anything," he tried to joke, but it fell flat in the face of Harvey's silence. The lies had fumbled awkwardly on his tongue, and Mike knew that he couldn't get a lie past Harvey.
"I asked you what's going on," Harvey said forcefully. He hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of the day Mike had bailed out that so-called friend of his.
Mike held his breath for a moment, hoping he would come up with a way out of this. Nothing presented itself. He blew out his air loudly, then took a shaky breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say.
"It's my grandmother, she --" his voice cracked and he dug his fingers into the bridge of his nose before continuing. "I went to see her, last night. It was late. I'd just left the office and I haven't seen her as much as I should, lately."
Mike didn't mean to blame Harvey for that, really -- he'd already gotten past the idea last night and understood it wasn't his boss's fault -- but it hung in the air. Harvey could already guess what Mike was leading into, and the implication stung briefly. He quickly shrugged it off, reading Mike's remorseful silence correctly and knowing it wasn't said with intent.
"She wasn't in her bed, but the bathroom light was on. I -- I called out to her and didn't get an answer, so I went over to the door. It was ajar, and I could -- could see one of her feet through the gap." He stopped, unable to put into words the next few minutes; his frantic calls for help and the arrival of the nurses, the false hope of realizing she was still breathing. He bit his fist to refocus himself.
"Is she..." Harvey starts, uncertain if he should finish. Mike choked on his next words.
"Not yet. She had a massive stroke. That might not have... The stroke caused a bleed on her brain. By the time I found her, it had grown so large that it started putting pressure on her brain stem. They have her on life support now."
Silence settled around them like a shroud, muffling in Mike's ears the ambient noise of the waiting room outside the ICU. Harvey opened his mouth uncertainly, straining for something to say.
"Mike --"
"Harvey, I know that we're not exactly friends, or whatever," Harvey disagreed, but he didn't interrupt. "But you remember how I said maybe it's time I started relying on someone else? I could...I could really --"
Now Harvey did interrupt, saying compassionately, "Where are you now, Mike?" Mike's control slipped, and his voice was thick with tears when he answered. Harvey's heart wrenched for him.
"Hang tight, kid." He placed the phone back on the hook and met Donna's worried gaze through his glass wall. She rose from her chair and strode into his office. He lowered his gaze to his desk.
"I'll clear your schedule for the day and call Ray to pick you up." She watched him worriedly. "What should I tell Jessica?"
"Nothing. I'll talk to her later." He covered his mouth thoughtfully for a moment, glanced at her then away. "It's his grandmother."
Donna walked around the desk to rub his shoulders. The time wasn't right for teasing; this was a side of Harvey she was rarely privy to. Harvey accepted the gesture gratefully. When she felt his muscles relax a little she patted one shoulder and left to make a couple of calls. Harvey remained seated, staring out at the view, until he felt enough time had passed for Ray to arrive.
Ray drove him in silence. There were times when Harvey felt a real appreciation for the insightfulness of the people he surrounded himself with. When they arrived and Ray had pulled the car into the drop off zone in front of the building, he turned in his seat to look back at Harvey.
"Good luck." Harvey didn't respond, just gave an acknowledging look and got out. He asked at the front desk for directions to the ICU and easily found his way through the winding halls. Mike was easy to spot when he reached the waiting room; he was the only one waiting by himself. He reached his associate in a few strides and settled himself in one of the horribly uncomfortable chairs. Mike spoke unprompted.
"The bleed is inoperable." He met Harvey's eyes with a stricken expression. "They want to remove the life support."
Harvey searched Mike's face carefully. "Is that what you want?"
Mike turned his face away.
"I keep thinking, if only I had left work earlier, if only I hadn't put my job before her, maybe I would have found her before the bleed got so bad. It's so trite." He laughed without humor and put his head in his hands. "God, what am I supposed to do?"
Harvey tried to school his uncomfortable expression and couldn't, so he gripped the back of Mike's neck with one hand and kept his peace. They stayed that way until a doctor came from inside the ICU and moved in their direction. Harvey stood, and after glancing up to see why, Mike stood as well.
"Mr. Ross?" the woman asked, and Mike jerked his head in a nod. "We're ready to remove the life support. If you have any last goodbyes, now's the time."
Mike ducked his chin and laced his fingers behind his head, the doctor's words hitting him like a blow. Harvey and the doctor exchanged a look, and she left them alone. Harvey moved in front of Mike and leaned down to meet his eyes.
"Hey -- hey, you can do this." He pulled Mike's arms down and squeezed one bicep. "I can go in with you."
Mike blinked moisture from his eyes and lifted them to the ceiling. He shook out his hands and just breathed, hoping to calm himself and knowing it was futile. Harvey squeezed again and Mike nodded.
"Ok. Ok, let's go."
End
A/N: Yes, it's a cliche, but my best friend's grandmother died today and this was the way my frustration over not being able to comfort her enough came out.
by Amity Bell
Havey sauntered up to Donna's desk.
"Donna, where's Mike?" She didn't look up from the file she was looking through, but lifted her eyebrows.
"I dunno, but he's definitely not here." Harvey gave her a fondly exasperated look and went into his office to call him. He needed those McKinley briefs for his meeting with the company's CEO this afternoon. The line was already ringing when he really looked at his office and noticed the briefs stacked haphazardly on his couch. He allowed himself a brief smile at Mike's ever-astonishing speed, and decided he'd rattle Mike's cage as a sort of reward. Also, to bitch about him leaving them in a mess in his space. His focus centered back on the phone when his call went to his associate's voice mail. Good mood vanished in a wave of irritation, he hit redial. This time the phone rang twice before it was picked up.
"Harvey?" The raw quality of Mike's voice gave Harvey pause, and he took a moment to reassess. Mike continued without waiting for an answer. "God, I forgot to call." Harvey heard some rustling and knew that Mike was rubbing one side of his face wearily. A look of concern settled on his face.
"Mike? What's going on?" Harvey asked quietly. The obvious concern in Harvey's voice undid Mike's control just a bit, and his breath hitched. He quickly discarded the idea of telling Harvey the truth, a heavy knot settling in his stomach at the thought of sharing something so personal. It just didn't seem like something they did.
"It's, it's nothing, I'm just not feeling very well. I don't want to infect the whole office and cause the firm to go under or anything," he tried to joke, but it fell flat in the face of Harvey's silence. The lies had fumbled awkwardly on his tongue, and Mike knew that he couldn't get a lie past Harvey.
"I asked you what's going on," Harvey said forcefully. He hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of the day Mike had bailed out that so-called friend of his.
Mike held his breath for a moment, hoping he would come up with a way out of this. Nothing presented itself. He blew out his air loudly, then took a shaky breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say.
"It's my grandmother, she --" his voice cracked and he dug his fingers into the bridge of his nose before continuing. "I went to see her, last night. It was late. I'd just left the office and I haven't seen her as much as I should, lately."
Mike didn't mean to blame Harvey for that, really -- he'd already gotten past the idea last night and understood it wasn't his boss's fault -- but it hung in the air. Harvey could already guess what Mike was leading into, and the implication stung briefly. He quickly shrugged it off, reading Mike's remorseful silence correctly and knowing it wasn't said with intent.
"She wasn't in her bed, but the bathroom light was on. I -- I called out to her and didn't get an answer, so I went over to the door. It was ajar, and I could -- could see one of her feet through the gap." He stopped, unable to put into words the next few minutes; his frantic calls for help and the arrival of the nurses, the false hope of realizing she was still breathing. He bit his fist to refocus himself.
"Is she..." Harvey starts, uncertain if he should finish. Mike choked on his next words.
"Not yet. She had a massive stroke. That might not have... The stroke caused a bleed on her brain. By the time I found her, it had grown so large that it started putting pressure on her brain stem. They have her on life support now."
Silence settled around them like a shroud, muffling in Mike's ears the ambient noise of the waiting room outside the ICU. Harvey opened his mouth uncertainly, straining for something to say.
"Mike --"
"Harvey, I know that we're not exactly friends, or whatever," Harvey disagreed, but he didn't interrupt. "But you remember how I said maybe it's time I started relying on someone else? I could...I could really --"
Now Harvey did interrupt, saying compassionately, "Where are you now, Mike?" Mike's control slipped, and his voice was thick with tears when he answered. Harvey's heart wrenched for him.
"Hang tight, kid." He placed the phone back on the hook and met Donna's worried gaze through his glass wall. She rose from her chair and strode into his office. He lowered his gaze to his desk.
"I'll clear your schedule for the day and call Ray to pick you up." She watched him worriedly. "What should I tell Jessica?"
"Nothing. I'll talk to her later." He covered his mouth thoughtfully for a moment, glanced at her then away. "It's his grandmother."
Donna walked around the desk to rub his shoulders. The time wasn't right for teasing; this was a side of Harvey she was rarely privy to. Harvey accepted the gesture gratefully. When she felt his muscles relax a little she patted one shoulder and left to make a couple of calls. Harvey remained seated, staring out at the view, until he felt enough time had passed for Ray to arrive.
Ray drove him in silence. There were times when Harvey felt a real appreciation for the insightfulness of the people he surrounded himself with. When they arrived and Ray had pulled the car into the drop off zone in front of the building, he turned in his seat to look back at Harvey.
"Good luck." Harvey didn't respond, just gave an acknowledging look and got out. He asked at the front desk for directions to the ICU and easily found his way through the winding halls. Mike was easy to spot when he reached the waiting room; he was the only one waiting by himself. He reached his associate in a few strides and settled himself in one of the horribly uncomfortable chairs. Mike spoke unprompted.
"The bleed is inoperable." He met Harvey's eyes with a stricken expression. "They want to remove the life support."
Harvey searched Mike's face carefully. "Is that what you want?"
Mike turned his face away.
"I keep thinking, if only I had left work earlier, if only I hadn't put my job before her, maybe I would have found her before the bleed got so bad. It's so trite." He laughed without humor and put his head in his hands. "God, what am I supposed to do?"
Harvey tried to school his uncomfortable expression and couldn't, so he gripped the back of Mike's neck with one hand and kept his peace. They stayed that way until a doctor came from inside the ICU and moved in their direction. Harvey stood, and after glancing up to see why, Mike stood as well.
"Mr. Ross?" the woman asked, and Mike jerked his head in a nod. "We're ready to remove the life support. If you have any last goodbyes, now's the time."
Mike ducked his chin and laced his fingers behind his head, the doctor's words hitting him like a blow. Harvey and the doctor exchanged a look, and she left them alone. Harvey moved in front of Mike and leaned down to meet his eyes.
"Hey -- hey, you can do this." He pulled Mike's arms down and squeezed one bicep. "I can go in with you."
Mike blinked moisture from his eyes and lifted them to the ceiling. He shook out his hands and just breathed, hoping to calm himself and knowing it was futile. Harvey squeezed again and Mike nodded.
"Ok. Ok, let's go."
End
A/N: Yes, it's a cliche, but my best friend's grandmother died today and this was the way my frustration over not being able to comfort her enough came out.