Harvey sits on the floor of his family's one bedroom apartment waiting for his father to come home. It's late and Harvey's had a long day but his routine remains the same: go to school with brother, come home with his brother, finish homework and look over his brother's, make dinner, tuck his brother to bed. It has been like this since his mother's absence 1 year ago and Harvey knows that he needs to be the extra parent to Marcus, knows that Marcus is too young to understand what a broken family meant so Harvey goes the extra mile to make sure he never does.

Harvey knows that his father has been working extra hard to make ends meet - playing his music in the tourist traps of Manhattan, living on tips and charity to raise his two boys. The utmost importance to him is to have a roof over their heads no matter the circumstance. The importance of a home, even a shitty apartment with peeling paint and thin walls in an even shitter neighborhood, is far better than a lot of folks in Brownsville.

It's only 9PM and Harvey's already had dinner with his brother but is still feeling hungry. He saves the rest of the angel hair pasta for his father. He hates being seventeen and growing.

After an hour practicing his debate for tomorrow, Harvey is slowly dozing off, but his slumber is quickly interrupted by a nightmare bubbling toward the surface. He hears a click on the door and his father walks in, smiling brightly him.

"You okay, kiddo?"

Harvey smiles a genuine smile. "What do you mean?"

His father chuckles and puts the leftover pasta to the microwave. "How was your day? You ready for your debate?"

"As much as I can be, yeah. I'm confident about this one. Mr. Kim won't know what hit him." Harvey's face brightens.

"You're gonna be a great lawyer someday, son". His father walks over tiredly with his food in tow and ruffles Harvey's hair before taking a seat at the couch. "Even if you're arguing against school detention. Go to bed."

Harvey gets up, smiling to himself, "Night, dad."

"Goodnight."

Harvey tiptoes slowly to the bedroom, not wanting to wake his brother. He slides his closet door open and takes out the suit he plans on wearing for tomorrow's debate. He looks at it fondly as if it was just yesterday his dad and he went to a thrift shop to pick it out. It was his dad's first recording session and he'd received complimentary studio hours through a friend of a friend who heard his music. The way you look makes an impression on people, Harvey. You're always going to have an upper hand if you choose to. That meant more to Harvey than was intended. It was no wonder his father always wore a three piece suit. Even between playing his saxophone and moving along the street, he never once gave way that he was any less than the people tipping him.

That was four years ago. Since then, his father had given him his favorite vintage suit for his debate competitions. It's a bit baggy, albiet loose around the shoulders, and heavily dated but Harvey loved it. Loved every inch and feel of that Christian Dior as if it were made for him. He didn't care what the other kids said about him. He wore a suit and it made him feel powerful, and important and most of all, worthy.

Despite his father not having a 9-5 job, they trudged along. And it was okay, really, because if his father was anything it was dedication and honest work. And Harvey had words – arguments that intimidated even the brightest of students. Harvey strived to be the best, knew he was the best. He'd worry about the logistics later. For now, he was happy with what he had. Content, while resourceful. He lived in a home with people who loved him, and, despite what he didn't have, he made the most of what he did. He slid into the jacket and wrapped himself around it.

Trevor's father throws Mike into a dark room after he's finished with him, spits at him tells him to get out. He laughs, "oh look, a big rat and a small rat. Stupid rodents" Mike eyes the rat. The rat is sluggish and fat, probably due to all the garbage on the floor and daily feedings from Trevor. The rat is not quick to get away when the man steps on him, breaking its back. The rat lays on the floor, withdrawn and squeaking and the man walks away. Mike tries his best to hold back tears but it's too late. It's already streaming down his face. Mike breathes deeply before he snaps the rat's neck to put it out of its misery.

It's been a year after his parents' passing and Mike is a lot stronger. But sometimes he still finds himself sobbing to sleep when he smells his mother's perfume. Or sees his dad in a crowd of shoppers during the holiday madness. He reminds himself that he's doing this for Trevor's sake, and that it'll be over soon. Trevor won't have to be afraid anymore.

It was nearing 9PM Friday when Harvey looked across his office to see Mike lying there in a pile of papers Harvey gave him about their newest case. Mike was a messy sleeper, his arms and legs splayed in every possible direction on the leather couch. Harvey took a sip of his scotch and began clearing up his desk. He'd let Mike sleep a little more. He knows that Mike works his ass off for Harvey and would do anything for him. It wasn't caring unless there were thoughts of health involved and Harvey would never justify it as such.

"No, no…NO. Don't touch me, don't touch…", Mike mumbled. His arms and legs once again changing directions.

Mike is having a nightmare. Harvey knew the kid had some demons to face but what he didn't know was the extent of it. He walked toward the couch and held a light but firm grip on Mike's shoulder, "Mike, wake up. Mike."

Mike opened his eyes and darted up, immediately looking at his surroundings, his eyes hollow. "Harvey, right. Sorry. I totally fell asleep and –"

"It's okay, Mike. We've both had a long day" Harvey comments. He looks worriedly at Mike but does not push it. He doesn't remember ever seeing Mike like unraveled.

Mike looked embarrassed, and for reasons Harvey couldn't decipher, he didn't want to push it. Mike busied himself getting the papers back in a pile and shoving the pens and highlighters into his messenger bag. With brute force, one might notice.

Harvey looked pensively at Mike and poured him a finger of scotch. Mike looked at him with a strange look that that said 'you never share your scotch' but took it all the same, downing the amber liquid until the burn wakes him up.

"Do you believe in souls or ghosts or the afterlife?" asked Mike.

"What kind of question is that?" Harvey replied, confused. He refilled Mike's empty glass with more scotch.

"The kind I ask on Friday nights when you're serving me drinks." Mike points to the scotch. "So, yeah, souls, ghosts?"

"I don't believe in the afterlife, if that's where you're getting at." Harvey replies. "I imagine that's not what you think though."

"If someone gets killed, they'll never cause harm or pain again but then... they don't get to suffer if there's no such thing as the afterlife. Isn't it better to torture? Why not make them suffer?"

"Why not let the law serve its purpose? If whoever you're referring to does something bad, gets caught, they'll get prosecuted and charged. Although in all likelihood, that is not always going to happen."

"Because the law doesn't always serve justice. Why do you think criminals and felons get out on good behavior? What justice does it serve when they take someone's life and gets treated with dignity and eventual release? They'll be out doing it again. And again. And they won't stop with rape, they'll take their humanity...keep them there as a trophy."

Harvey opened his mouth as if to speak, then drank the rest of his scotch. "Because that's what the law is, Mike. People can change. You of all people should know that."

"So this is a pragmatic concern then?"

Harvey rubs one eye with the palm of his hand. "Mike, what's going on here? Because if this is about the Stellnar case, you know that it's only rape if Lisa didn't consent to sex but she did and only blamed the alcohol clouding her judgement later. Our client is innocent, Mike. Where are you getting with this?" He knows that Mike is an emotional person, knows that he wears his heart on his sleeve but this behavior is strange. Beyond strange. Harvey even goes as far as to think that Mike only said all that to deflect the embarrassment from his nightmare earlier.

Mike smiles, his blue eyes shining amidst the darkness. "Nowhere. I'm drunk."

Harvey sighs and nods. He'll let it go this time. If Harvey is anything, he is a patient person. He knows that people have boundaries and he'll let Mike have this one. But he still plans to find out what's going on with his associate, whether Mike likes it or not.

Author's Note:

I tried my best to incorporate accurate timelines but it may be distorted at times!

Warnings: rating will go up as story progresses.

This is my first multi-chapter fic that I've had the courage to share and I have a ton of ideas for this story. Please let me know what you think of it!