Title: A Puppy Needs Protecting

Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue.

Warning: no het, character death

Notes: 2nd POV - Harvey

"There will always be a next time.

You just really, really, really hate how Mike keeps going back to Trevor.

"If you're here tomorrow I'll know that I still have an associate," is all you can say as you walk away.

"There will always be another call.

You wish you could say you were surprised when Mike didn't show up the next day. But you weren't. And that's when Donna told you, Harvey – there's a detective wanting to speak to you. He says it's about Mike.

You cursed yourself silently as you stood from the couch and walked over to your desk, picking up the phone.

You listened as the detective told you what happened. You dropped your coffee, the contents spilling over the papers that were supposed to go to Mike's cubicle.

"There will always be another excuse followed by a smile and a laugh and a poisoned apology.

You saw Trevor at the funerals ((Mike's grandmother couldn't handle the news and the doctors say she just laid down and gave up)) and you just hated him so much.

"I'm sorry," he said as you walked up to him. "But, he wasn't supposed to be there! They couldn't let him go after he saw their faces."

"And you," you looked him over with all of your disgust evident on your face, "they let you go?"

"A dead man can't pay," he said.

And then something inside of you just snapped and all of the hatred and grief and rage you felt towards Trevor, towards Mike, towards the entire fucking world just surged out of you.

And Trevor never saw your fist coming until it was already in his eye, your knuckles repeatedly tearing away skin and shattering bone. It took four men to finally pull you off of him and Donna and Jessica's voices to jerk you back to reality.

And when you go home that night, you cry – for the first time in a long time. That last conversation you had with Mike playing over and over in your head as you picked up your scotch and tried to drown yourself in it.

"Mike, please believe me when I say this. There will always be a next time, and a next time, and a next time. And when that next time comes – I might not be able to protect you."

"Who says I need to be protected?"

"Because, Mike, you're a puppy. And puppies need to be protected by the big dog."

End.