Author's Note: Good day, fellow readers. =) Since there are so many fics of Mike getting hurt, I thought I'd provide the fics where Harvey gets hurt. This takes place, naturally, right before Trevor leaves. Mike's relationship with Harvey and Donna isn't quite as cohesive as it is by the season finale, so I made it a little rough around the edges.
Now, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it turned into a 25-page one-shot. O.o It also did not quite flow as a one-shot, so I have broken up the story into 5 separate parts and I will post them over the next 5 days. Expect evening updates. There will be another update Tuesday evening. No Rest for the Wicked will get an installment soon!
I do not own Suits.
Shattered Glass
Chapter 1
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Trevor?"
Mike was eying the bar uncertainly as he stood waiting by the taxi. Trevor paid the drive – his treat after all – and gave Mike an excited grin.
"What's the matter, bud? It's just a bar."
"I'm just getting this overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I mean, the last time we were at a bar – " And here Mike gave Trevor a pointed look " – you had some guys that sounded like they were from the Russian Mafia after you," he said, his mouth set in a concerned frown and he glanced at Trevor with one eyebrow raised. "You don't need anymore trouble."
"Don't worry about it, bro. I've learned my lesson. I won't get into anymore trouble. Besides, I'll be on the bus heading for Montana tomorrow," Trevor said, throwing a comforting arm around Mike's shoulders. He could see Mike's trepidation start to fall away and a slow smile was now lightening his dark mood.
"All right, but remember, Trevor, you may be leaving but if you get up to anything then….I'll have to deal with the fallout," Mike said, pointing a finger into Trevor's chest. A grimace pinched his face as he spoke the last sentence and he was pleased to see Trevor turn serious. Harvey's name hung in the air between them, to fill the pause Mike had left.
"Yeah, trust me, buddy, I don't want you to get on the wrong side of your boss on my behalf either," Trevor replied.
Mike relaxed at that and smiled at Trevor, satisfied that there would be no trouble tonight. And to make sure of it, he would limit their stay to just a couple of drinks. It was a 'school night' after all and neither one could really afford to get smashed. On first appearance it appeared to be an innocent enough bar – neatly kept and the occupants were staying seated in their chairs even as they chattered up and laughed Thirsty Thursday away – it was certainly not half as well to do as some of the ritzy bars Harvey was sure to attend, but the crowd here was hardly full of piss poor alcoholics.
Trevor slapped down a twenty on the counter and said to the bald bartender, "Two shots of bourbon please."
The young lawyer sighed heavily. "Already starting off heavy? This is the only one for both of us. Neither one of us needs a hangover tomorrow."
"Speak for yourself," Trevor replied. His eyes rolled up into his head as he threw the shot back. He cringed at the burn in his throat, but then he grinned and nudged Mike's elbow. "Don't make me take that from you. C'mon, Mike, you're a grown up now. Drink the grown-up drinks."
Mike just gave him an exasperated look and drained the shot even faster than Trevor. He bent over coughing at the burn and rough feel of the liquor in his throat.
"All right," Mike said, once he found his voice, "that's enough for me. Michelob Ultra, please."
Trevor huffed and muttered, "Already going for the pansy ass beer. Man, live a little. He asked for another shot from the bar tender and downed it the moment it reached his hand.
"Hey, I can almost guarantee you that I'll be spending tomorrow reading briefs or doing research for a case. Try doing that with a hangover."
"Okay, I'll stop badgering you. I just, ya know, wanna have some fun. This is going to be our last night to party. I may never see you again," Trevor said. He gave Mike such an adorably affectionate look that Mike could feel his anger at Trevor's wrongdoings ease a little more.
Mike took another swig of his beer to cover his own emotions, and he said, "Don't be ridiculous, man. Of course we'll see each other again. Just make sure that there isn't a set of prison bars between us."
"Are you saying you wouldn't use your lawyer skills to get me out?" Trevor asked. He summoned the bar for yet another shot and drank it as quickly as the others.
"I guess it all depends on what you're in for," Mike replied, but he felt an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach at the thought. He had no doubt Harvey would counsel letting his friend rot in prison.
"Hey, I gotta piss. I'll be back," Trevor said and slid off the stool at the bar. He grinned at a very beautiful black girl with curly hair and Mike rolled his eyes as he heard him say, "Hi, beautiful."
He shook his head in exasperation that his friend could not resist flirting even when he was ten hours from boarding the greyhound bus. However, as he waited for Trevor to return and continued nursing the same beer, he could not help but notice that some of the bar's patrons were starting to give him cross looks and most of them happened to be black men. There was the odd two white men with blonde hair who threw him dark looks and Mike unconsciously hunched his shoulders. Oh shit, is this bar in gang territory? So this part of town wasn't that great, but it was still a sight safer than even the part of town where Mike lived and he often had to bike to from work at night. However, as he waited for Trevor to come back, an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he could not keep a shudder from running up his spine. Somehow he knew this night was not going to end well.
Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Mike called the one person he felt might be able to help them.
When Mike called, Harvey happened to be lying on his bed reading. Ever one to follow the culture of the rich, he felt it might be prudent to be familiar with as many of the classics of literature as he could think of. He could drop quotes in conversation when he was at dinner with a client but, and most importantly, it would be a great way to say lines that in all likelihood would fly right over Mike's head and help keep that godly aura around him that he so carefully cultivated.
Shakespeare's collection had been the first for him to tackle, which had also been made easier by virtue of it being every high school's favorite literature to shove in their students' faces. He still held fond memories of Hamlet at least and he had, within the past two years, gained a greater understanding of Macbeth after his horrible effort to read it in his sophomore year at high school. He didn't even touch Romeo and Juliet, writing it off as teenage garbage with the emotional capacity of a fly and because he had already read it. He still was not quite sure how Violet could have passed for a man through the entirety of Twelfth Night and still surprise everybody at the end, including her own brother. He had read the play at least three times to understand even just half of it and felt he probably put in more effort than most of his rich clients would ever bother and called it good.
Just two months prior he had decided to tackle the Greek classics and was more than a little perturbed as well as amused at all of the clever and creative ways that Greeks could think of to kill off the characters of myth. He had started with Aeschylus' The Oresteia and felt that it might quite possibly be the best of all the Greek plays – Antigone fell right about in the same category as Romeo and Juliet; Hippolytus was…odd, and Ajax had only been okay in his humble opinion – until he read The Bacchae. He had enjoyed that particular play immensely because he had subconsciously substituted Donna into the role of Agave who led the wild women that would rip apart any man who got in their way. It sounded like something she might do.
After rolling through The Iliad, The Odyssey he ran into a swamp of text that was Virgil's The Aeneid. When he had finally slogged through that he had decided to pick up some Faulkner at the recommendation of one of his older clients and The Sound and the Fury was the book he was currently reading. But reading was probably stretching what he was actually doing. He didn't even know when he had started but his phone ringing brought him to the awareness that he had long lapsed into a coma and had been squinting at the text only an inch away from his eyes stuck on…he glanced down at the page number and groaned: 7. He snatched the phone off of his night stand – it had been a force of habit to put it there after he had missed an important client's call at 3 am and had been consequently fired from representing afterwards – glanced at the caller ID and said, "This had better be good, Mike."
"Were you asleep? It's only 9 o'clock."
"I swear, if you make an old man jokes right now, I will hang up and refuse to answer all subsequent phone calls," Harvey replied, really wishing he could banish the drowsiness from his eyes and voice.
"Okay, okay. I'm calling because…well…"
Harvey perked a little at the waves of guilt that washed out of the phone and he narrowed his eyes as he stared out the window in his room, "You're getting into trouble."
"No! Trevor wanted to go out for a last round of drinks."
Harvey squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten forwards and backwards. "What did I tell you, kid? That friend of yours is not only trouble itself but a trouble magnet. Drop him like he's loose change."
"Do you even hear what you're saying? Besides, it was just a few drinks."
"It never is just a few drinks."
"Yeah, well, I've had a shot of bourbon and a beer so far. I have every intention of staying completely sober here. I'm calling because," and here Mike's voice dropped so low that Harvey could barely hear him, "the people at the bar are giving me…very unfriendly looks."
"Please tell me you're not in a bar in a bad neighborhood."
"I didn't think it was a bad neighborhood."
"It's New York. What neighborhood is good? If you're so worried, why don't you just leave? What do you need to call me for?" There was a pause and just when Harvey was certain Mike was about to answer, he said, "Wait, let me guess: you tried to talk him out of drinks altogether but because you have no backbone – "
"C'mon, Harvey!"
"Fine, because he just so happens to be your weak spot, you caved and because of your weak stance to him he cannot possibly see the reason to leave."
"You didn't have to put it quite like that," Mike said in a sullen tone.
"Listen, kid, I tell it like it is. And you didn't deny it."
"Fine. I'm calling you because he listens to you! If you came and made us leave, he would without a second thought. Please, just get down here. It's The Sandbar on 5th street."
"I know where you are. Try to at least get Trevor out the door in one piece and I'll pick you guys up."
He disconnected the call without hearing a reply and slid out of bed, glad that he had started reading in his jeans and t-shirt. Grabbing his phone and wallet, he looked at his keys for a moment and decided that if the bar was that hostile he would not risk one of his beautiful cars taking any damage and then he reached into his closet for his leather jacket and ducked down to grab a particularly grubby pair of boots. If he was going to go to a middle class bar, he better damn well look it.
Even as much as he felt the stirrings of annoyance at Mike for continually hanging out with that loser he called a best friend, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the kid. He had saved him from reading anymore of that book for the night. Harvey couldn't help but throw the inanimate object a particularly violent glare, before he stepped out of his condo to go and save Mike and Trevor again.
Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this! =D