Harvey felt the eyes of the associates on him as he entered their little village of cubicles. They stopped their conversations, their filing, everything they were doing, just to watch him. Each of them hoping, secretly, that he'd come for them. That they'd finally caught the eye of the great Harvey Specter.
The only one whose eyes weren't glued to him was Mike Ross, of course. The kid had his earbuds in to help him focus as he attacked a pile of disorganized papers with a yellow highlighter. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concentration. As usual, he was chewing his bottom lip, a sign that he was deeply engrossed in his work.
See, thought Harvey smugly, that's why he's so much better than all of you. Because he knows how to work hard, and get shit done. You Harvard assholes, most of you were born with a silver spoon stuck in your mouths. You've always been told that you're the smartest, the best, the most talented. Now that you've graduated, you think your future is spread out like a red carpet for you to walk on, with success like a golden trophy waiting for you at the end.
You'll never be as good as him. None of you. And he didn't even go to law school.
"Mr. Specter!" called one of the more brave associates. He was tall and lanky, with an ill-fitting suit and a tie that was three inches too long for him. His face wore a foolishly hopeful expression that just served to make him look more mulish.
Harvey felt bored just by looking at him. "Yes?" he said, just to be polite. He'd been trying to be less condescending after Donna had ripped into him about it one too many times, but with kids like this- well, it was easier said than done.
"Professor Kincaid just sent me a letter today," the kid said. God, even his voice was annoying. "He wanted me to show it to you, once I told him you were a senior partner at my firm. He remembers you well from Harvard, you know. He says you were his best student." Smiling stupidly, the kid handed over the letter.
Harvey resisted the urge to snicker. Professor Kincaid had despised Harvey, the charismatic genius who didn't give a damn about his classes or teachers. Scottie had always been teacher's pet, but obviously, Kincaid was trying to get this kid into Harvey's good graces, now that Harvey had risen so high in the legal world.
He took the letter and glanced over it. God, it was worse than he'd thought. Kincaid was pulling out all the stops for this one, oozing compliments like honey while sneaking in references to the kid's own accomplishments. It was sickening.
"Listen, George-" Harvey began, but the kid cut him off.
"It's Malcolm, actually." That ridiculous smile of his was still plastered across his face.
Harvey stifled a groan. "Right, Malcolm." He handed back the letter. "Look, I hate to break it to you, but if you need your old college professor to do your dirty work, you're in the wrong place. You're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, or in this case, Harvard. You want to be my associate, you want the privilege of seeing me in action, you prove to me why you're better than everyone else here. You prove why you have the potential to be a big name in the legal world. Until you do that, I'll just keep going to Mike Ross, because he's already shown me that he's got what it takes to be the best damn lawyer in the city. Show me you're better than him, and maybe then we'll talk."
It was as if the whole office had gone silent. Malcolm stood there, mouth open in shock. All the associates were staring at them, disbelieving.
Even Mike was looking up now. He looked confused at first, then apprehensive as all eyes turned to him. Malcolm's stupid smile was gone and he was now glaring daggers at Mike.
Harvey realized for the first time that he might have gone a bit overboard with this. Extolling Mike's virtues while putting down another associate wouldn't do anything to endear his protege to the rest of the batch. Ah, well, he thought. The curse of being the best. If Mike can't handle a few jealous peers, then he's not made for this life.
With everyone watching. Harvey walked over to Mike and tapped on the wall of his cubicle. Mike looked up at him, his eyes half-angry, half-pleading for Harvey to rescue him.
Watch and learn, Malcolm, Harvey thought. "Mike," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you file that TRO for Stormwell Investment Group?"
"Yes," said Mike.
Harvey bit back a smile. "And the patent for Parrish Industries?"
"Yes," said Mike.
"And did you go through the merger contract for Jiang-Cooper and Harper International?"
"Yes," said Mike.
"And did you find-"
"Yes," said Mike, and there was an edge to his voice now that said, quit playing with me, Harvey.
Harvey allowed a triumphant smirk to grace his features. "Good," he said. "Get your coat. We're going to see a client."
Mike rose, though Harvey could tell he was still hyper-aware of all the eyes on them. "Who?" he asked as he slung on his coat.
Harvey allowed for a small silence before he spoke. "Michael Jordan, of course."
Mike stopped dead and gaped at Harvey. "Michael- no freaking way. You are not taking me to see Michael Jordan."
Harvey shrugged nonchalantly. "You've earned it."
The other associates were practically as green as the trees with envy. Mike was grinning like a maniac, and his movements had a new vigor and energy to them. "I can't believe it," he breathed, more to himself than to anyone else. "Michael freaking Jordan. I'm going to see- oh, man, wait 'till Grandma hears about this!"
Harvey couldn't help but smile at Mike's childish excitement. Another reason his protege was so amazing- while all the other kids were trying to act like adults 24/7, Mike didn't have a problem with letting go every now and then and allowing the little boy in his heart to come out. It was nice to see him like this. It reminded Harvey of himself and Marcus when they were kids, so young and impressionable, excited by the simplest of things. Before, of course, Harvey found out about his mother.
No. Harvey refused to think about his mother. It was easy around Jessica, Donna, and Mike to forget that he even had another family. Hell, even Louis was like a brother to him. They were a better family than the fractured one he'd grown up in. Marcus had been one of the only good parts of his childhood. In fact, Mike was in somewhat like Marcus, but smarter, more cynical, more experienced in ways Marcus wasn't, and more naive in ways Harvey wished Marcus was. Mike was also hard-working, determined, and persistent. On top of that, he was completely devoted to Harvey and endlessly loyal as well.
It was nice, having someone to count on. Not just for work performance, although Mike's was undeniably spectacular, but for everything else. Someone to back him up, to trust him blindly, to have faith even when Harvey himself did not. Someone for whom Harvey was a hero, not the scarred, heart-broken shadow he really was.
For giving him all that, Mike deserved to meet Michael Jordan. Once.
As he and Mike headed towards the elevators, Harvey paused in front of Malcolm. "You see that?" he said. "On top of his work. Perfectly focused. And for that, rewarded." He was about to suggest that if Malcolm really, really tried, he might one day make it to Mike's level, but it was too big a lie for Harvey to say without feeling at least a tiny bit guilty about it.
In truth, there really was no one like Mike. Never had been, never would be.
He was one of a kind.
