Mike's baby blues looked pleadingly into Harvey's steal gaze, but the older man did not budge. Harvey Spector was too much of a hard ass to care about what he had to do to his associate. Well, soon to be former associate. Mike knew it, he could see it in his mentor's eyes – this had been the last straw.
"Harvey, please," Mike begged softly.
Harvey glared and Mike's mouth snapped shut. "You heard what I said. You're fired. Now, get on that pathetic thing you call a bike, go home, and try not to screw up your life any more than you already have." Harvey had on the face that he reserved for particularly unsavory clients: Cold, hard, his diplomatic mouth set in a line that could kill. There was no trace of humor in Harvey's face as he looked upon the younger man now, humor so often saved only for him. Mike knew it would be forever gone now.
"Harvey, you don't understand - !" Mike's voice was hoarse as he tried to make one final plea. He knew his defense was weak – hell, he didn't even have a defense. He was guilty, through and through. It didn't take the best lawyer in the city to figure that out, and Harvey was, well, Harvey was Harvey, and he knew.
"What don't I understand, Mike? That I can't trust you? I understand that. That you've been getting high again? I understand that. That you've been harming yourself and didn't feel you could trust me, even when I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and help you? I understand that." Harvey paused, just to give Mike a disgusted look while he trained his eyes to the sky. "Oh, what else am I forgetting? That's right - that you've been dealing drugs again. And not just once, but many, many times? Yes, I understand that, too." Mike stood, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk across the street from Pearson Hardman, and stared at his former mentor. Yes, Harvey understood enough.
"Harvey, I'm sorry," Mike said brokenly.
Harvey gave short, humorless laugh. "Too late for that, kid. You've decided who you want to be. And it's not the person in the penthouse."
Mike choked as Harvey turned around, began to walk away from him. "Harvey, wait! Fine, fire me, but please, please don't let it end like this!"
Harvey turned around sharply and gave Mike a look. "Let what end like what, Mr. Ross? Years of partnership? Years of mentoring? Because I think you gave up on both long ago." For once, Harvey didn't meet Mike's eyes, and Mike jumped at the one little opening he had left.
"No, Harvey. Years of friendship," he whispered.
He saw Harvey smirk, and then their eyes met again, and Harvey's were as blank as Mike had ever seen them. "Friendship? No. My friends aren't drug dealers. If you want to know why I waited this long, it's not because I cared." Harvey paused and took a breath and for one brief moment, Mike could see the uncertainty in Harvey's eyes, but just as suddenly as it came it was gone. "But none of it matters now. I won't wait until I have a dead puppy on my hands." Mike gasped as Harvey spit out his last harsh words, and turned on his heal away from Mike, away from everything.
Then, things seemed to happen in slow motion. Harvey reached the crosswalk for Pearson Hardman before Mike could get another word in. The younger man's shoes still seemed glued to the sidewalk as he watched in horror. Harvey was rushing and didn't bother to watch for the endless New York traffic, to see if everyone would heed the law and stop for the man walking on the white stripped road. In an endless second, Mike watched as the navy blue SUV came closer and closer to Harvey, not slowing down. He watched as the car hit Harvey and threw him a good ten feet onto the harsh pavement. He watched as Harvey lay motionless and the driver got out to call 911.
Mike found his voice. "Harvey! Harvey!"
By the time Mike reached his former boss, blood was seeping from a gash in his head, and for all purposes, Harvey Spector seemed dead to the world.