Got Your Back

by Lacadiva

An angry, broken man with a gun seeks retribution against the Pearson Spector. Harvey whump, Harvey/Jessica friendship.

GOT YOUR BACK

by

Lacadiva

Rating PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to the Suits guys. I'm just trying on a jacket. Preferably Harvey's because I bet it smells nice.

SUMMARY: An angry, broken man with a gun seeks retribution against the Pearson Spector. Major Harvey whump, Harvey/Jessica friendship.

~S~

"I'd like to speak to one of the Partners."

The slightly disheveled man who had just stepped off the elevator startled the young Associate. She was returning from a quick break, and had just turned a corner, popping a curiously strong mint to mask the smell of strong coffee on her breath, to find him loitering by the reception desk. No one was sitting there, and there wouldn't be at such a late hour. It was nearly ten and most of the support staff had gone home hours ago.

The man inquiring didn't look as if he were harboring some dark purpose in the back of his mind. He did however wipe cold sweat from his balding head and fought to control and conceal his trembling hands by jamming them deep into his coat pockets.

"Who let you up here?" the Associate asked. She knew that security should have stopped him in the lobby and called the party he wished to visit first, or at least asked him his reasons for an after hours appearance. The elevators could only be operated by using a key card after 6pm unless a guard, upon receiving an okay, swiped his own card and let the visitor onto the car.

This didn't look like someone security should have allowed to get past the revolving doors.

The Associate was well educated, but had not the benefit of many life experiences beyond school. She should have run. Screamed for help. Sought out another Associate or two for back up. But some odd old saying about judging a book by its cover reared its impractical head in her weary mind and gave her pause to be helpful. Surely this man would respond to her kindness and cooperate accordingly.

"I'm sorry," the Associate said with forced authority, "but you have to have an appointment to see any of the Partners. You can call the office first thing in the morning and request…"

"No," he said sharply, quickly. "It has to be now."

"And which Partner did you want to talk to?" the Associate asked as she picked up the receiver and surreptitiously reached for the security call button.

The Disheveled Man stared at the wall sign…Pearson, Spector, Litt…

Which one had ruined his life? Which one was responsible for tearing his world apart, ripping away his family, dismantling his business, massacring his spirit and laying waste to his life? Which one had given the okay to represent the mindless, soulless multi-national conglomerate that attacked and chew up his family business – just one of many – and chucked him out on the sidewalk like another plastic garbage bag littering the streets of New York City?

Pearson…Spector…Litt…

"Let's go with the big gun," he said. "Pearson."

"I'm sorry, but without an appointment…"

She stopped when he produced a very nasty looking Baretta Nano from a coat pocket.

The Associate accidently swallowed the mint that was earlier resting and burning pleasantly on her tongue.

"I know it's the end of the day, and I apologize," the Man said, sounding genuinely humble and contrite. His hand was shaking, which made him twice as dangerous.

"…but if I don't get to talk to one of the partners, I'm going to start shooting… indiscriminately…and I don't think you would want that."

"No…" the Associate whispered, eyes glue to the barrel of the Nano.

"Then we have a rare understanding. Please, call Mr. Pearson, and have him come to your conference room immediately."

"I have orders not to disturb…"

He thrust the gun closer to the Associate's head.

"Don't think. Just do it."

She quickly dialed Jessica Pearson's office and waiting while it rang. And rang.

"There's no answer."

"Try again, please."

She did.

This time, Jessica answered.

"I specifically asked not to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry, but…"

"What is it?"

The exasperation in Jessica's voice was far scarier than the gun pointing in the Associate's face.

"You need to come to the conference room right away. You have to stop whatever you're doing and come to the conference room now. Please…"

"Excuse me?"

The Associate hung up quickly and looked up at the Man with the gun, expecting, hoping, he would be satisfied and leave. Or at least, let her go. She would run down the hall and lock herself in an office and call security and 911 and…

"Escort me to your conference room."

"Please…I have…"

"What? You have a child? A loving husband? A pet Maltipoo? Well, I had a family before the law firm of Pearson Spector Litt obliterated everything I ever held dear."

"I was going to say, I have a date tonight," the Associate said nervously before she could stop herself.

"You might want to cancel."

~S~

The distraction could not have come at a better time. Jessica was growing irritated to the point of near-violence with Harvey, who seemed to be living in the moment only to contradict, refuse, denounce and otherwise criticize every point of issue Jessica was raising.

On most occasions she truly appreciated Harvey's keen perspective, honesty and ability to look her in the eye and tell her she was wrong, or at least needed to consider a few other options before rushing to judgment. That was one of the many reasons why she had fought and campaigned so hard to bring the young hotshot aboard so many years ago.

Then, there were moments such as these, when all those wondrous qualities seemed to derail her every effort to run Pearson Spector as she saw fit.

There was the stubborn, obstinate, obnoxious, egotistical peacock of a man that frustrated her to the point of pitching her Waterford Crystal glass at his well-coifed head.

"What else can I say, Harvey? You're just going to have to trust me," she said, standing, adjusting her snug, discreet peplum waistline, and heading for the door. "We're moving forward. You can either travel with me, or take another train."

"Jessica, you pay me exceeding well to help keep your eye on the ball. Right now, you're positioning yourself to get hit by a four ball."

"You know how I loathe and detest baseball analogies, Harvey."

"You wanted a four-bagger. I'm trying to keep you in the game."

"Harvey…"

She stopped by the door, turning to face her most trusted and irritating partner.

"This back-and-forth between us is growing old. I'm tired of arguing with you for the sake of arguing. So could we please stop sounding like an old married couple and agree? I need your support on this, Harvey. We need this client, regardless of their bad press and tacky baggage. We're not in a position to turn it down, in case you missed that little tidbit at the last partners' meeting, because you couldn't stop staring at your own reflection on the shiny table top."

"Not fair. I just got a new haircut."

She smiled. "Harvey…"

"All right. For the record, I vehemently disagree. Pearson Spector doesn't need Huntington Foods. They lied about using GMOs! Worst, they got caught!"

"But…"

"But…if you want them, if you really want to take them on, I'll support you."

"Thank you," she said, as if the matter were already a foregone conclusion.

"But when their mutant, carcinogenic garbage starts washing up on our beach…"

"I'll say you told me so. Until then, I need you to have my back on this."

"I always have your back, Jessica. You know that."

"We'll see. By the way, is someone planning some kind of ridiculous birthday surprise? I'm being summoned to the conference room, no explanation. You know I hate surprises, and it's a little late..."

"I was not made aware of any kind of surprise. You're birthday's not until next week."

"You remember…how sweet."

"Come on, I'll walk you."

~S~

Jessica was not expecting to find one of the firm's recently hired Associates sitting at the table in half-light in tears, her mascara creating dark gothic rims around her eyes.

"What is going on here?"

Nor was she expecting to find a strange man in a trench coat emerging from a dark corner, holding a gun.

Harvey instinctively moved in front of Jessica to protect his partner, his friend. He felt a hot/cold sensation of fear made physical running along his spine, and felt his breath become heavy and difficult to draw into his lungs.

"Which one of you is Pearson?" asked the man.

The two partners remained quiet, withholding.

"Who are you?" Jessica asked, giving Harvey pause to cut her a reprimanding look.

"My name is Herschel. Walter Herschel. Herschel Barnes Security."

Jessica immediately knew who he was and why he had a gun.

She sucked in a deep breath, and heard Harvey do the same. They both knew…

This was going to end bloody.

"How can we help you, Mr. Herschel?" she asked, keeping her voice cool and even.

"We are so beyond that."

"You mind putting that thing away?" Harvey ventured, moving to cover Jessica a little more.

"I actually find an odd sense of comfort in this," Herschel said almost wistfully, looking at the gun in his hand. "A sense of wonder that justice can be so immediately served with one of these. Not like weeks wasted in courtrooms, negotiating in boardrooms like these, or scheming and conniving and spinning webs of deceit over wine and red raw steaks and…I'm sorry. I tend to go on sometimes. It's been this way since your law firm helped them take my company away. So…to answer your question, I do mind putting this away. I intend to use it."

"We didn't take your company away," Harvey said, a little more forcefully than he meant to. "You lost it. You mismanaged your way out of it. All we did was draw up papers and pointed to the dotted line. You didn't have to sign. You could have fought it."

Not a good move, Harvey realized as Herschel raised the gun a little higher.

"I would've lost."

"You don't know that. Sometimes you just have to roll the dice…"

"You represented the company that absorbed it…stole it. You advised them to break it up into little pieces and sell it off. Do you know how many people lost their jobs? You may think I'm a liar…but I knew every single man and woman who worked for me…by name. Do you know how rare that is? It was because we were like family."

"We're family, too," Jessica said defensively.

"Oh yeah?"

He pointed to the terrified Associate.

"What's her name?"

Jessica said nothing. She didn't even blink.

The Associate stopped trembling long enough to take exception to Jessica's silence.

"They were my family," Herschel continued, "and now, they're all gone. Thanks to Pearson Spector. It's unforgiveable."

Harvey took a half stop forward.

"So what do you want, Herschel? Revenge? Restitution? How much can we make the check for?"

Herschel laughed bitterly.

"That's you're answer for everything, isn't it. Just throw some money at it. That way, you don't have to notice, you don't have to care. I don't want your money. I want you to feel what I felt. I want you to know what it's like to lose everything. Now…which one of you is Pearson?"

Jessica swallowed hard, took a small step forward.

Harvey held her back with a hand.

"I am." he said. Jessica looked at him incredulously.

This was not a time for an ego battle.

"I'm Pearson," Harvey said again. "I sign the checks and I make it happen. So if you want to punish somebody for your loss, make somebody pay, the buck stops here. So why don't you let the women go and we can settle this like men."

"Tell me, Mr. Pearson, how do we begin to settle this? I only see one thing happening here. I shoot you, you die."

Harvey swallowed hard.

"Then take your shot," he said.

"Harvey, no!" Jessica said before she could stop herself.

"Jessica, shut up!"

"My name is Jessica Pearson, and this is my firm. I'm the one responsible..."

"Jessica…!" cried Harvey.

"I understand your anger, and if you're amenable to talking about it, we could come up with some kind solution…"

"Don't listen to her! She's delusional. I'm Pearson! She works for me."

"Now who's being delusional?"

"Okay, stop. Stop!" Herschel yelled, agitated and anxious. "No more games! I want to know which one is Pearson…"

Harvey put his hands up, hoping to divert the gunman's attention from Jessica.

"She's my assistant, Jessica...Jones…"

"Jones? Really? Is that the best you could come up with?" she asked indignantly.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to save your life here."

"I don't need you to save my life," she snapped. "I'm Jessica Pearson."

"Don't listen to her!"

"You're both giving me a headache!" Herschel yelled. He turned to the trembling Associate, who'd been watching and praying silently, then pointed the gun at her head.

"Leave her out of this!" Harvey shouted.

But Herschel wasn't listening.

"Which one's Pearson?" he screamed at the Associate.

"Don't tell him anything!" said Harvey.

"I WILL SHOOT YOU ALL!" shouted Herschel.

Silence.

"Better. Now…who's Pearson?"

The Associate shuddered, and raised a shaky hand to point at Jessica.

"Thank you," he said, a bit of calm returned.

And then he aimed and fired.

~S~

The first thought Jessica had when consciousness returned was, "who's crying?"

Her question was answered when she heard the man in the raincoat shout for the Associate to shut up, and her sobs was reduced to whimpers and the sound of her teeth chattering.

The next thing that occurred to her was that she didn't know how long she'd been out. Minutes? Hours? And was it because she had been shot? She did a quick body scan, expecting to find pain…

And then she realized that that something heavy was upon her, constricting her breathing…

"Harvey? Oh God…Harvey…"

…and that the blood soaking through her dress was coming from him.

Jessica reached for her partner, rolled him off of her and turned him onto his back.

His crisp white shirt was now slick with crimson.

There was a bullet in her partner's shoulder. No exit wound. His face was pale, and he was trembling. Shock, no doubt. But his eyes were open and he was quite conscious.

"Harvey…what did you do?"

"You were kind of in the way of that bullet."

She turned and saw Hershel standing nearby staring blankly, incomprehensibly, at his strange handiwork.

Jessica turned back to her partner.

"Harvey! Can you hear me?"

"You don't have to shout," he said through clenched teeth. "Help me sit up."

"No, you should lie still…I think you should lie still."

"She's right," Herschel said. "You should keep still."

"Who asked you? You shot me!" Harvey shouted and instantly regretted as pain rattled him.

"I'm not dying on the floor," he said shakily. "Just get me in a chair or something."

"Harvey…"

Stubborn Harvey moved, determined to get up on his own if he had to. Jessica shuddered when she saw the fresh gush of blood ooze from the wound.

"You!" Jessica shouted at the Associate still freaking out in the corner.

"Me?"

"You want to keep your job? Get over here and help me get him off the floor."

The Associate, fully motivated by Jessica's threat, pulled herself together enough to move quickly to Harvey's other side. Together, and with Harvey using what strength he could muster, they tried to move him from the floor to a chair. Until…

"Bad idea! Bad idea…" Harvey managed to say before stifling the need to scream. No way was Harvey Spector going to scream. Not while there were witnesses to tell the story later.

They eased him back to the floor.

"Give me your sweater!" she ordered the Associate.

She immediately capitulated, awkwardly slipping the bolero sweater from her shoulder and arms and handing it over to Jessica.

Jessica balled up the sweater and placed it on Harvey's wound. He groaned and tried to move away from her, but Jessica stood her ground.

"Be still, Harvey. Just lie still and just let me do this."

"I gotta get shot to hear those words come out of your mouth?"

"Hush!"

She grabbed the Associate's wrist and yanked her toward Harvey, placing the trembling young woman's hand upon the reddening sweater.

"Keep pressure on the wound. Do you understand?"

The Associate nodded and pressed down, despite Harvey's muttered curses.

To Hershel, she demanded, "He needs a hospital."

"No. No hospital. I didn't come to wound. I came to kill."

"So, what then?" Jessica stood before him, blood staining her dress and hands. "Are you going to kill us all? Your little revenge plot hasn't worked out very well. I'm still alive."

Herschel looked at the gun in his hand.

"The man you shot is Harvey Spector. While his name may be on the wall, he had nothing to do with your company being obliterated. If anyone is to blame, it's you."

"Excuse me?"

"Mr. Herschel…listen to me carefully. If you allow my partner to get medical attention, Pearson Spector will help you…"

"Isn't that unethical or something?"

"We will take care of you. Just let me get some help from my colleague."

"I thought we were family," Harvey said facetiously. Even in pain…

To Herschel, she asked, "Well?"

Herschel moved toward the door.

"In a few minutes, your building security should be back online, and they're going to see everything. Flood the hallways with security personnel and NYPD. I'm sure somebody must've reported gunfire by now."

"Did you dismantled our security?"

"It wasn't so hard. Not when you're an expert. Not when security is your business."

"Thank you for showing us where the holes in our security are."

"You're welcome. I guess."

"So, have you decided?

Hershel waited for Jessica to continue.

"Have you decided if you're going to kill me or not?"

"Jessica…" Harvey said weakly.

Hershel closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath.

"There were only two bullets. One for you, and one for me. Since your friend decided to take the one meant for you, I have only the one left in the magazine. I didn't want to chance anyone else getting hurt. So…if I shoot you, I'll get arrested and spend what's left of my life behind bars. If I use it on me, your sins go unpunished."

"You'd better make a decision, Mr. Herschel. Because once they storm the doors…. This doesn't have to end badly. Give me the gun."

"No, no …"

"Let me call an ambulance."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

"Ms. Pearson!" the Associate cried out. "I don't think he's breathing…"

Jessica raced back to Harvey's side, falling haphazardly to her knees.

She quickly unloosened Harvey's tie and unbuttoned the top buttons, then placed her head upon his chest, listening for his heartbeat, his breathing. She reached for his wrist and found a pulse. Relief.

"He's unconscious but his heart is still beating. At this moment, Mr. Herschel, its assault with intent. Things get stickier when it becomes murder. If you put the gun down and leave, I'm sure you can get your sentence reduced to a couple year's probation…"

"Your partner was rather chivalrous. Taking what was meant for you. He must care about you. Tell me you're worth what he did for you."

Jessica did something she hadn't done in front of others for quite while. It would undermine her power, her authority, to let anyone see her cry. But now, she could not hold back her tears.

She squeezed Harvey's hand, heard him moan as he were fighting his way back to consciousness.

"He's paid to take a bullet for me, metaphorically. Take the hits. Protect my image. But this…? Not this. Not his life for mine. No, I'm not worthy of this. But I am grateful. And I cannot stand by and let him die. So…either do what you came to do, or let us leave."

She looked to the Associate for moral support. The young woman nodded.

Then she felt Harvey squeeze her hand back. It was faint, but certain.

"I hoped you would beg for your life," said Herschel.

"Not going to happen."

"Why did you have so little compassion for me?"

Jessica took a moment to think of an answer that would keep her alive. She quickly realized there was only one way to answer.

"It was business. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm sorry for you loss. Truly. Your anger is legitimate, and understandable. But all this…this changes nothing. Life goes on, Mr. Herschel. You find a way to cope. To change, if you must. There was a time I stood on precipice of losing this firm. After everything it took to make happen..."

"But you didn't lose it."

"Because I fought…harder than the other guy. And I won. Maybe next time, if you fight harder, you'll win."

"I don't think I have it in me."

"That is not my fault."

"You tell him," Jessica heard Harvey say weakly.

"How're you doing down there, Harvey?"

"Peachy," he said. "We should order a pizza."

She turned her back to Herschel and knelt back down by Harvey's side.

"You're delirious."

"Lead poisoning," he said, chuckling, then cringing.

"Keep pressure on his wound, Ms. Moynihan," she urged the Associate.

"You do know my name?"

"Of course I do. I just didn't want him to know it. I know the names of every member of this firm. We're family."

Jessica brushed hair back from Harvey's sweaty forehead.

"Thank you," she told her Partner. "For having my back. And if you ever do something stupid like this again…"

"…day's work…" he managed.

When Security rushed into the conference room, Herschel made no move to shoot or to fight. He let them cuff him and lead him away, and only looked over his shoulder as if to say some silent goodbye to Jessica.

"We need an ambulance," she shouted, and sat back and observed and security took over…

~S~

"Welcome back!"

Harvey stepped into Jessica's office wearing a brand new Tom Ford suit and a sling that he had made to order.

"Nice to be back. Thanks for the flowers. A little overkill – don't you think? A bouquet a day."

"Stop complaining. You know you love the attention."

He sat on the couch next to Jessica and tried not to grimace at the dull ache in his healing shoulder.

"So, what did I miss?"

"Not much. Things are pleasantly quiet when you're not around."

"Sounds boring. You doing okay?"

"I'm not the one with a hole in my shoulder."

"No, I mean, after all this. The guy, the shooting..."

Jessica stood and poured two glasses of artisan water and offered Harvey one.

"I've had a few nightmares. Late nights are difficult."

"That's understandable."

"How about you?"

"I miss the hospital."

"You mean the drugs."

"Harsh. They're designer drugs."

A moment of silence, and Harvey's smile faded.

"I hear gunfire in my dreams…wake up in a sweat…stare at the ceiling a lot."

"Understandable," she said this time.

"I made a decision about Huntington Farms. I've decided they're not the kind of company Pearson Spector wishes to attract."

"So what you're saying is, I have to take a bullet to get you to listen to me?"

"What I'm saying is, you were right. If I remember correctly, you were also against representing the company responsible for ruining Herschel Brand Security."

Harvey readjusted his arm, taking pressure off his shoulder.

"We can't turn down every company who's ethics are on the ugly side," he said. "We won't have any clients."

"It's your job to reel them in, Harvey. So get off my couch and get to work."

"Yes, Ma'am," she said, heading for the door.

"And Harvey…"

He stopped, held up a hand. He didn't need to hear it again. He knew.

"Told you. I got your back."

THE END

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