PERSONA

His former client, Tom Keller, had a beaming smile – that much, Harvey remembered.

There were a few gaping wounds in his memory, and he sure as hell hoped it had nothing to do with the bruises on his hips and thighs. In the back of his mind though, Harvey knew better.

Back at the DA's office, when Harvey was on loan, (after mouthing off to Cameron), Special Victim's Unit picked him up. It was only for about a month, but Harvey had seen dozens of victims, seen crime scene photos, and cataloged their many injuries – the same injuries that now covered his body.

An ugly bruise had blossomed on his cheek and spread along his jawline, distracting from the haunted look in his dull brown eyes.
He stripped off his suit jacket, and peeled off his dress shirt. He wasn't just taking off his suit, he was taking off a suit of armor. Harvey had made a point to avoid looking at himself the night it happened, and the morning after. He'd gone about his day as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, even if he caught Donna shooting him worried looks now and again.

The damage, the full extent of which Harvey couldn't be sure, became visible. Harvey gasped, he couldn't stop himself.

Dark purple blotches shaped strangely like hands and fingers marred Harvey's hips. Unwelcome fingers had dug their way into the soft flesh of his buttocks. Round, almost oval spots lay where Harvey's legs had been pried apart and held down. Harvey ghosted his fingers against the ovals, and shuddered in disgust.

Turning on the shower and setting the temperature as high as he could bear, Harvey stepped in. He winced a little before relaxing slightly under the steam. Taking up a washcloth, he spared no force scrubbing the filth, and with it, some of the shame and guilt off of him. As he did this, he realized he was weeping.

Why was he so weak? He must have deserved it.
It. Harvey didn't refer to what happened as rape. He didn't want to name it at all. If it had a name, he couldn't pretend it didn't happen. Besides, rape certainly didn't happen to men like Harvey.

A knock at the door roused Harvey from his thoughts. Harvey turned the water off. He was just going to ignore it, but he really didn't want to be alone in his head right now. He shrugged the horribly creased shirt back on – if only to cover himself – and grabbed a pair of sweatpants before shuffling to the front door. Harvey adopted a scowl, preparing to chastise Mike for… whatever. Yanking the door open, he huffed.

"Mike–" Harvey was cut off.

"Jesus, Harvey. You look like shit." The words cut down his resolve and he deflated.

Jessica seemed to take his silence as an invitation and brushed past him, stepping inside the apartment.

"Come on in, Jessica. I don't mind at all." Harvey sniped (or tried to) at her, though the remark fell awfully flat. He shut the door and turned to her, "What do you want, Jessica?" Harvey asked, suddenly feeling exhausted. He crashed onto the couch opposite her, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

That was the first thing that set Jessica off – Harvey was avoiding eye contact. Everyone knows Harvey's a cocky son of a bitch, and acting submissive is WAY outta character.

"I want to know what the hell's wrong with you," Jessica stated, sitting down with a grace only she possessed. She crossed her legs in a manner that would wrinkle her skirt as little as possible, "and why I shouldn't report you to the ethics board right now." Her voice was harsh and no-nonsense. She was pissed. It scared Harvey to think about lying with her like this, with quiet, simmering fury and a glare that could tear him in two.

"Considering Louis had Mike all day, I didn't have time to read all the fine print. I –"

"Don't give me that shit, Harvey." Jessica paused, pursing her lips, "We both know you haven't been focused. You lost in court today."

Harvey knew he was grasping at straws, but he tried anyway. "It was…I was tired, and it was a really hard c –" The look in Jessica's eyes was murderous.

"Bullshit. It was housing court!" she stood up, fuming, "My dog could win in housing court! So, you either lost on purpose – and I fire your ass – or you tell me what's going on."

Harvey took a deep breath, pressing the heel of his palm into the bridge of his nose. Hard. He exhaled slowly before speaking.

"I – It was a T-Tuesday, I think… I don't…" He dragged a hand through his hair, causing the unruly strands to toss themselves upwards. He shuffled aimlessly to his cabinets, pulling out a bottle of scotch. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. Wiping his mouth on the back of his palm, he stilled his shaking hands, and turned to face Jessica again.

Jessica frowned. This wasn't good, and this definitely wasn't Harvey.

Harvey doesn't stumble over his words like this, doesn't have a battered face, doesn't accept what he's given. He's a control freak with ever-present smirks, not this bumbling, sleep-deprived half-wit that loses in housing court.

"Harvey." She whispered. The sound boomed in Harvey's ears. Jessica stepped toward him, and when he made no move to stop her, she put a firm (yet sympathetic) hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him to reality. Jessica waited for him to continue as she studied the distant look in his eyes. He looked terrified. It was an emotion, which on Harvey's features, seemed foreign. Jessica didn't want to push him, but she had to know. Unlike Harvey, she wasn't against having emotions, and she certainly wasn't against caring. "It was Tuesday, and…?"

Harvey's eyes darted around the room, never looking at anything for more than two seconds.
"I can't remember it all." His voice was a pitiful whisper that almost broke Jessica's heart, "It was Keller… y'know the football player. Conference Room C."

Jessica laughed icily. Of course she knew Tom Keller. Star quarterback that pumped 8 billion dollars into the firm each year. Which meant this – whatever this was – was her fault. She had seen Harvey just before that meeting, and had told him to do 'whatever it takes to make Keller happy'.

"He drugged me and…" Harvey trailed off. Jessica gaped, speechless. As the anger flashed before her eyes, she didn't catch the first one – the sharp, strangled sound that escaped Harvey's lips. He slipped out from under her grasp, and crumpled to the ground before she could catch him.

"I can still feel him. H–he was so… He didn't even prepare me, he just…" Harvey wrapped an arm around his middle protectively as he sobbed. "I couldn't push him off," Harvey glared at Jessica. "I suppose it made him happy." He added bitterly.

Jessica shook her head solemnly, "That's not what I meant, and you know it." She was torn. The firm couldn't afford to lose that much revenue, but that asshole had drugged and…
Jessica grit her teeth. She just wanted to throw something, and possibly rip Keller throat out with her teeth.

"Did you get checked out?" Jessica asked, knowing he probably didn't.

"Too much paperwork," he croaked, "I wouldn't be able to pretend…it didn't happen."

Jessica crouched down to Harvey's level and tilted his chin up to meet her eyes, "We'll get you a professional to talk to, and I'll transfer Keller over to Louis's client list."

Harvey filled with rage. His pulse quickened, and his veins bulged, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "You bitch." He hissed, fury taking over. Harvey heaved himself off the floor, gripping the nearest weapon in sight – a letter opener. There was no way in hell, that Jessica was keeping Keller on retainer, just for the money, even after what he'd done to Harvey. He pointed the weapon at her, his hands shaking. "Believe it or not, I was glad I went behind your back. Sure, you won in the end, but I still have a chance. I have my name on the door, what do you have?"

Jessica was shocked Harvey would speak to her like that, but glad he still had fight in him. Harvey Specter doesn't accept what he's given. "A dying ex-husband, and a lawsuit looming over your head?"

Jessica laughed softly, oh, he'd crossed the line. She could regret it later, but right now, she was going in for the kill. "You know what, Harvey? Maybe this experience was good for you. You finally learned the difference between getting fucked, and getting fucked over."

Harvey closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Get out."

Smoothing down her blouse, Jessica stood. "Take the week off," she ordered, "or until that bruise fades, whichever one lasts longer."

Harvey didn't respond, he just yanked the door open, holding an arm out. Jessica took the dismissal in stride, and walked out without another word.