As of yet unbetaed. English isn´t my mother language, therefore there may be some mistakes.
I tried to research as much as possible. Because it has been some time since I last saw Suits, please excuse any discrepancy between my story and the series.
WARNINGS: See the end of the chapter.
The first time Michael James Ross used magic was at the tender age of three.
You would think that such a noteworthy occurrence in the life of any human would consist of something spectacular and grand. Maybe making something explode or setting the curtains on fire. An extraordinary spectacle that would shake the very foundation of the Ross' household.
But Mike didn't set the curtains on fire and neither did he make those hideous garden gnomes – which had always frightened him – explode. No, he simply summoned his bottle which was only a few inches away from his position – in his outstretched hand.
Not aware that something remarkable had occurred, little Mike simply drank from his bottle without a care in the world.
Nina Ross on the other hand was anything but without a care in the world at this moment. Suddenly feeling very fatigued she sat down on the nearby chair and took a few deep breaths in order to calm her erratically beating heart and to force back the tears that threatened to spill over.
Her son had magic.
Her three-years-old son was able to wield a power that enabled him to circumvent the laws of physic that governed reality.
Nina Ross wasn't bigoted and neither was she overly religious, but in this moment she would have given everything to just turn back time and prevent this moment from ever happening. To return her son to being a happy three-years-old mundane boy who would grow up to go to school, make friends, go to college and university, get a job he loved and meet the woman – or men – of his life with whom he would found his own family.
Like the rest of her family Nina truly believed that magic was something wonderful and deep down she rejoiced that her son was special and would be destined for something great. But this joy was buried under layers of worry and desperation.
If she was a law-abiding citizen she would take her son and drive to the next office of the Magic Registration Bureau where Mike was to tested for his magical aptitude and registered in the nation-wide data base of magic users. From then on onwards she would be obligated to come back every three months for further tests. If she was to move the MRB would have to last say in the matter as it would with everything else regarding Mike´s life from the moment of his registration.
On his 13th birthday Nina´s and her husband´s official guardianship would be revoked and Mike would be taken to one of the many government-sponsored schools of magic in which Mike would be taught according to where the government wanted to use his abilities later on in his life. They would be allowed to meet him once every year until the day he finished school whereupon he would be assigned to one of the many magic squads which maintained enchantments all over the land and helped to 'further the greatness of his own country' as it was his patriotic duty.
And if he didn't die of magical exhaustion along the way he would be allowed to retire when he was too old and brittle to be of any use anymore. Either way Nina´s son would be long dead by then, if not in body then in spirit.
She had seen a magical squad once. Thin creatures with gaunt faces, their expressions emotionless and their eyes devoid of any light. They had been nothing but robots doing their jobs. Every bit of humanity gone.
Nina wouldn't allow that to happen to her son. She would watch the whole world burn before any harm came to her precious Mike. Nobody would take away her son.
"Mom," Mike gurgled happily and stretched his arms towards her. Nina happily obliged and lifted the toddler from the ground.
"I won´t let anything happen to you, Mike," she said as she stroked his blonde hair. "That I promise you. Nothing."
James Ross starred at the sleeping form of his five-years-old son. His hair was tousled and his mouth hung open while he shifted in his sleep. The light that shone from the hallway through the open door made Mike look so peaceful as he finally settled in a comfortable position. A little smile crept on James' face as he observed his little son. Moments like this made everything worth it.
The quietness that prevailed throughout their little home when the TV was off and Nina already in bed; the soft whispering of the trees outside when the wind shifted through the leaves. In moments like this James felt like nothing could destroy their little perfect world they had built up in this house. That the sands of time would simply pass them by – forgetting about their cosy little house – and that the chaos of the world would never darken the front steps which led to the bright red door (Nina had insisted) which barred the entry.
Standing in the doorway to his son´s room James felt invincible.
And he would give his very soul for the power to just keep it that way; the power to simply lock the world – and all the hate, bigotry, violence and suffering it entailed – out and never again bother with it. But such powers had never been granted to him and so he had to make do with what he had.
The last two years had been difficult. James would never – could never – resent Mike for possessing magic but when his wife had told him of it his whole world had come crashing down on him. The Ross family had always been very attuned to magic and it had led to many of them being killed over the course of the centuries.
James was mundane. How could he ever hope to protect his own son from the government and from powers he never really understood? It was his duty as father and husband to protect both his son and his wife and he didn't know how to do it. So he had just sat there – numb and completely oblivious to the world around him – as he came to the sobering realisation that his wife, his son and his mother were the only things he had from now on. Friends, colleagues and neighbours – every one of them suddenly became a potential threat to his son´s well-being. Every one of them could be the one to report Mike to the MRB and be the reason for the destruction of their little family.
James never regretted cutting them out from his life. Nina and Mike were everything he needed and kept him going even when some of his colleagues started sprouting anti-magic sentiments or when one of his neighbours invited him to an anti-magic-rally ("With games for the little one, so that he won´t get bored while we fight for the purity of America!"). He shut the door in their face.
They hadn't allowed Mike much leeway. While he was still young nearly every strong bout of emotion could trigger a magical response. So he was mostly kept at home, being watched over by either Nina or his mother Edith while he was at work. When questions arose because Mike wouldn't go to kindergarten they had simply said that he suffered under a weak immune system and couldn't be allowed to be around other children, lest he´d catch some illness.
He and Nina had decided that if it was possible they would send Mike to the local school because they wanted Mike to have at least a little bit of normality in his life. He should make friends and get to experience all those things that other kids his age did: first best friends, learning new things and starting to gain their own little bit of independence. James didn't want his son to look back at his life and regret anything. Even if it meant sleepless nights for him and his wife.
Over the last years they had noticed that Mike not only possessed magic but also a photographic memory. It was James who had discovered it when he couldn't find his newspaper and Mike started to recite the articles – even though he hadn't understood half of it – back at him as he had used the newspaper to do handicrafts. James had just shaken his head and smiled at Mike: At least now he could say that his son was truly special.
"James?" Nina stood in the doorway to their bedroom, wearing one of his t-shirts that were far too big for her. "Why are you still up?"
"No reason," he answered. He looked at his sleepy wife and his sleeping son and fierce love surged within his mind.
"I love you so much," he said and kissed Nina fiercely.
"Show me," she whispered and led him back into their bedroom.
Edith Ross had lost exactly two persons two magic in her whole life.
The first one had been her brother George. She had been seven when the government officials came to their house to take him away. Her mother had cried and begged them to leave her son while her father had to be restrained from assaulting the black suits wearing men but it was to no avail.
"Under the Magical Detainment Act of 1941 any magic user is to be taken into custody until such a time when the magical uprising in Europe is subdued and his or her loyalty to the United States of America is no longer compromised."
She had been seven years old and couldn't understand why her brother was taken away from her. The brother that always chased away the monsters under her bed with the little fireworks that he shot from his hand. The brother that would simply lay a hand atop the bruises she got when she was to wild and heal them with naught but a thought. The brother who made the roses bloom even in late autumn so that she could enjoy them for a little longer.
Edith couldn't understand why that was so bad that. Her brother had never hurt anyone. He was a gentle soul who brought home any stray animal to help it back on its feet because he wanted nothing more than to become a veterinary.
At the end of the war they had only gotten a short letter that George had died in one of the detainment camps due to indeterminable circumstances. A few days later Edith´s father had taken a bullet to his head.
The second person she had lost had been her husband.
James Ross – the first – hadn't been magical. But he wasn't mundane either.
He had just enough magic to be labelled a 'psychic'; a name for all those people that had one specific supernatural talent. James had been an empath – able to read the emotions of all those around him. The nature of his talent enabled him to hide it from everyone but the nature of his character made it impossible to look away when magicals were mistreated by society. His compassion for others would spell his death when on a sunny April day, he tried to help a magical woman who had been assaulted by some youths. One of them pulled out a knife and stabbed James who bled to death on the street because no one wanted to help a 'mag lover'.
Edith had been left advanced in pregnancy and without any means to sustain herself.
All that went through her head as she stood on the veranda and watched her seven-years-old grandson playing in the garden. It wasn't really big; just a small stretch of grass surrounded by high hedges in order to make it impossible for anyone to see what was going on inside. The perfect place for Mike to play.
"Mike," she called to the blond boy who immediately run to her.
"Grammy," he shouted enthusiastically as he threw himself at her and hugged her.
"Not so fast," she laughed. "I´m too old to keep up with someone as energetic as you." She ruffled Mike´s hair. He was growing so fast, it was unbelievable. She couldn't remember James growing that fast.
"Grammy, Grammy," Mike tugged at her blouse and Edith turned back her attention to him. "I want to show you something!" He closed his eyes and an expression of uttermost concentration took over his face. Slowly he extended his arms and under Edith´s awe a sphere of pure light ascended from his palms. It slowly rose until it was at the same height as Mike´s chest. Then it began changing colours: Yellow, orange, red, green, blue. Finally, Mike opened his eyes and the pure joy that shone in his eyes made Edith´s heart ache.
"It´s beautiful," she whispered, not wanting to destroy the magical atmosphere of the moment with loud words. "Just like you, Mike. Just liked you."
"If I told you a secret, would you keep it?"
Trevor looked up from where he was playing and directed his gaze towards Mike who nervously fidgeted with his fingers. They had been friends for almost half a year and never could Mike imagine a better friend than the brown-haired boy who had defended him against some mean bullies on the playground.
But Mike always had to be careful around Trevor; careful of what he said and even more careful of what he did. His parents repeatedly imposed on him the danger of revealing his magic to anyone – even if it was a friend. Grammy had just nodded along.
But Trevor was Mike´s best friend. The only one he got and he just couldn't lie to him all the time. Best friends should know everything about each other because otherwise they wouldn't be best friends, would they? As long as Trevor didn't know the whole 'Mike' he could never be the best friend Mike needed.
Trevor was the one who defended Mike from bullies. He was the one who brought him sweets when his parents had prohibited him from eating them and he as the one who took the blame when he knew that Mike would get in serious trouble otherwise. And how did Mike thank him? By lying and being distrustful.
"Of course," Trevor exclaimed. "You´re my best friend after all."
"And you´d still be even if my secret was something terrible?" Mike asked further.
"Mike," Trevor said. "The worst thing I have ever seen you doing was lying after you took one lollipop out of your grandma´s stock. And that so bad that she probably knew all along. You´re not the type to have terrible secrets." He paused for a while.
"And even if," he continued. "I wouldn't be much of a best friend if I leave you over it, would I? I´m by your site, always." That was what Mike wanted – needed – to hear.
"I have magic," he rushed out. Silence.
"That´s not funny, Mike," Trevor rebuked him. "You could be taken away for saying something like that!"
"It´s true!" Mike defended himself. "I´ll show you!" Without much thinking he summoned a light over his palm. A short expression of fear and surprise flashed over Trevor´s face but was quickly taken over by fascination.
"That´s so cool," Trevor exclaimed awed.
"So you don't hate me?" Mike asked tentatively.
"Of course not," Trevor snorted. "A little light won´t scare me away from my best friend. Besides, imagine what we could do with it! The pranks we could pull!" He grinned at Mike.
Mike grinned back.
The other car had come out of nothing. Mike and his parents where happily chatting when all of a sudden the red mini-van rammed them from the side. A shockwave tore through their car as it was pushed from the street and flipped over until it came to a halt in the roadside ditch.
Pain like nothing he had ever felt before shot through Mike´s body and he couldn't supress a shout of pain. Limbless he hung in the seatbelt, unable to move even an inch without inflicting further pain upon himself.
"Mom? Dad?" he cried out hoarsely, tears running down his cheeks. Mike could see his father. His head was bent in an unnatural angle, his whole neck a mess of blood and purple bruises. His eyes stared out of the front window without any spark of life within. Cold dread washed over Mike.
"M-m-mike." He turned his head around and saw his mother. Her hair was dishelmed and countless cuts all over her face caused blood to flow over her too pale skin. Her breath came out ragged and she seemed to fight against losing consciousness.
"Mom?" Mike cried. "Please – please don't leave me!"
"Mike, I´m here, darling," his mother coughed. "You have to p-p-promise me something, Mike, please." Mike nodded frantically. Everything to keep his mom awake – alive.
"Never forget who you are," she said. "H-h-hide and stay safe, but never deny a-a-and never apologize for what you are – what makes you special."
"I promise," Mike sobbed. "But you´ll be there, won´t you? You´ll make sure of it?" His mother smiled at him weakly. "I-I-I can heal you! I´ll use my magic!"
"No, Mike, no!" his mother pleaded. "It would cost you too much. It would kill you. I can already feel my life leaving me."
"No, mom, no," Mike cried. "Please, don´t go."
"I´m so sorry, Mike," his mother whispered as tears run down her cheeks, slowly turning blood-red as they fell down on the upholstery. "I-I-I don't want to leave you." She coughed and blood poured out of her mouth. "I love you so much – y-y-your dad loves you so much. We´ll be watching from Heaven. And no matter what, we will always be proud of you."
With much effort she stretched one of her hands towards Mike who took it and held tight as if it was the only thing keeping his mother from dying.
"M-m-mike." Her hand relaxed. Her eyes became unfocused. The tears ran dry. Silence descended – a monster so utterly terrifying.
"NO!" Mike screamed and poured every bit of magic he had into his mother´s body. She couldn't die. She couldn't leave him. But it was too late. Nothing happened. Death had taken his mother away right under him and left him with nothing but a soulless vessel.
"No," he sobbed. "No, mom, no – please – please."
The paramedics found a boy who would not let go of the hand of one of the two persons who had meant the world to him.
Mike starred at the paper he was holding in his hands.
"Mike?" he could hear his Grammy calling from the kitchen. "Why does catching the mail take so much time?" This question finally rose Mike from his stupor and he walked back into their little kitchen where his Grammy was sitting at the table, waiting for her newspaper to be brought to her by him.
"I got accepted," he simply said and his grandmother paused for a moment. "Columbia has accepted me. They offer me a full ride."
"Oh, Mike," his grandmother said and hugged him. Mike mirrored her action. "I´m so happy and so proud for you. Your parents would be as well." She stopped for a moment to swipe away a tear of joy. "You´re becoming a man they can be proud of."
Mike couldn't speak, a lump in his throat preventing him from doing so. Over the years the pain over his parents' death had lessened but it had never stopped. There were some days were he could think of the happy times he had had with them without sadness, but there were also nights when he dreamed of his mother´s last moments and destroyed his furniture with his emotional magic.
"I hope so," he simply said.
Later that evening found one Mike Ross visiting the local cemetery.
His father had always detested the cheerless atmosphere that prevailed throughout the graveyards and the aura within that seemed to suck out every bit of happiness of anyone who entered the premise. Thus his parents had got a white headstone, a beacon standing out amidst the greys and blacks that dominated everything around them. It was a simple headstone, without unnecessary ornaments and a single engraving in silver letters:
Nina and James Ross
† 31.04.1992
Beloved daughter, son and parents
May They Look Upon Us From Heaven
Mike visited at least once a week and told his parents about what had happened in this time. For him it was a special connection to his parents and it made him feel less lonely in this big world inhabited by strangers. Sometimes he had the feeling that his parents looked down upon him when he was retelling episodes of his live and it made it easier to fight off the nightmares that often followed his visits. But nevertheless he would never stop them.
Mike truly believed that his parents still existed in one form or another. Magic, a force able to make the impossible possible and which he himself possessed existed, so why shouldn't some form of afterlife exist as well? His parents were there and sooner or later he would be as well.
Mike looked around. When he was sure, that nobody was in near vicinity he lowered himself on his knees. Then he slowly pushed out his magic. Strands of colour slowly lifted themselves from the ground and began circling around the grave. A light breeze wafted through his hair, carrying with it a few flower petals from nearby plants. Within the circle of light Mike had created flowers began to bloom again – colourful and vibrant – and every bit of dirt was cast away.
Mike could feel his magic all around him, overjoyed to be used. It was playful and whispered to him all the things they could play together. He could feel nature and animals alike all round him. The tree a few meters away which brimmed with strength – old, wise, strong – the bees flying around him – we can catch them – the smell of fresh grass that hung around him.
At the height of the crescendo Mike let go.
Slowly the colours ebbed away. The wind settled down and the flowers' colours settled to a more natural tone. All the impressions around him faded away and it was as if a grey veil had descended upon the world. Only a few seconds and there was nothing left anymore that indicated what magical occurrence just had happened. Just a grave that was so much more beautiful than the rest of them.
"You´re welcome," Mike whispered. Then he turned around and walked away.
Mike came back to his little apartment to Trevor lounging on the couch. The TV was on – a crappy Spanish soap opera – while Trevor obviously had raided his refrigerator going by the countless open packages that were strewn around all over the floor.
"Mike!" Trevor greeted him with a lopsided grin. "What has my favourite Colombia graduate been up to?" He proceeded to give Mike a hug.
"Are you high?" Mike asked his friend incredulously.
"No…maybe? Just one joint, man," Trevor answered as he let himself fall back on the couch.
"You need new milk, by the way," he added with serious face.
"What are you doing here, Trevor?" Mike asked while he laid his messenger bag on one of the unused seats.
"I am not allowed to visit my friend?" Trevor asked hurt. Mike just gave him a long suffering look.
"I have a job," Trevor said.
"No," Mike answered without missing a beat.
"Aw, come on, Mike," Trevor whined. "You did a few before."
"Yes," Mike replied. "Because I needed the money for Grammy. But I´ve finished college, Trevor, and have already a few interviews next week. I can´t afford being caught with drugs – not right now."
"But you´ve got magic," Trevor shot back.
"Don´t say it out loud," Mike shouted and looked around frantically, a habit deep ingrained in his mind over the last few years.
"If I go there´s a higher chance that the cops get me," Trevor continued. "You´re much better suited for the job. You don't want me to go to prison, do you? You´re my best friend, aren´t you? Then you´ll do this for me." Mike looked at Trevor´s pleading eyes and he could feel himself carve in.
"Besides," Trevor added. "You need the money now or your Grammy gets evicted from her nursing home."
"Just this once," he heard himself saying. "Just this once."
"You´re the best," Trevor said, beaming at him.
I shouldn't have let Trevor persuade me to do this job, Mike thought as he ran away from the cops that chased him through the hotel hallways. Following his gut instinct, he took a turn to the right only to find himself in a waiting room with at least seven other men who seemed to be anxiously waiting for something. Behind a desk on the other side of the room sat a red-haired woman who look torn between utter boredom and annoyance. An interesting combination for sure.
"Rick Sorkin?" she asked and Mike looked around for the person she was referring to. "Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin, you are five minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?" It finally dawned Mike that the woman meant him. He checked behind him, looking if the cops were already on his trail again.
"Look-, look, I'm just trying to ditch the cops, okay? I don't-, I don't really care if you let me in or not." He checked again. No cop in sight. He completely missed the woman winking to somebody in the other room.
"Mr. Specter will be right with you."
"What?" Mike asked confused.
"Can I get you anything?" the woman asked, either ignoring or completely ignorant to his confusion. "A coffee? A bottle of water?"
Mike entered the room and was awed at the opulence that he was met with. Everything literally screamed money from the red carpets on the floor to the dark brown wooden book shelves and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Behind a grand desk – probably more expensive than anything that Mike had ever owned – sat a man. His dark hair was slicked up and he wore a three-piece-suit that left nothing to imagination.
"Hi – er – Rick Sorkin," Mike introduced himself as the man stood up and shook his hand.
"Harvey Specter," the man said. His voice was exactly like his exterior: smooth, seducing with underlining authority. "Nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat there?" Of course it was in exact this moment that his briefcase opened up and spilled the weed onto the floor.
"Woah. What´s this?"
"How the hell did you know they were the police?" Harvey asked incredulously. Mike had just finished recounting what had happened before in order to stall for time and prevent the other man to call the police upon him.
"I read this novel in elementary school and it was exactly the same thing," he answered.
"You read a novel…in elementary school?" Harvey inquired with arched eyebrow.
"What?" Mike defended himself. "I like to read."
"Then why did you ask them what time it was?" Harvey wanted to know.
"Throw them off," Mike answered. "What kind of drug dealer asks a cop what time it is when he´s got a briefcase full of pot, right?"
"We should hire you. Jesus, I´d give you the 25 grand as a signing bonus." He rubbed his temple.
"I´ll take it."
"Unfortunately, we only hire from Harvard," Harvey said. "And you didn't go there." Mike couldn't let this chance pass by. He needed the money to pay for his Grammy. His old plan had been to wait for another law firm to hire him and with a job he would then get a loan from a bank but this was so much better. He couldn't let such a chance slip by.
"What if I told you I consume knowledge like no one you´ve ever met?" he pressed on in a last ditch effort.
"I´d say you´re full of crap," Harvey shot back without missing a beat.
"That´s a BarBri Legal Handbook right there, right?" Mike said and pointed at the aforementioned book. Harvey nodded. "Open it up. Read me something. Anything."
Harvey picked up the book, looking slightly intrigued but also doubtful. He opened it up and started reading.
"Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors, including-"
"Including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable interference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff and the nature of the damages themselves," Mike finished the sentence.
"How did you know that?" Harvey asked shocked.
"I learned it," Mike answered cheekily.
"Okay, hotshot, fire up this laptop." Harvey said. He and Mike changed places and then he continued. "I´m gonna show you what a Harvard attorney can do. Pick a topic."
"Stock option backdating."
"Although backdating options is legal, violations arose related to disclosures under RIC section 409A," Harvey recited.
"You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley," Mike commented.
"The statute of limitations render Sarbanes-Oxley mute post-2007," Harvey replied.
"Well, not if you can find actions to cover up the violation as established in the Sixth Circuit May 2008."
"That´s impressive, but you´re sitting at a computer," Harvey said. Mike just turned the computer around.
"Playing cards," he said. "Sorry, if you want to beat me, you´re gonna have to do it at something else." He closed the laptop.
"Okay, look, this is all pretty fascinating stuff but I'm afraid I gotta get back to work. I'll make sure Serpico isn't around, waiting for you," Harvey said and Mike tried to not let his disappointment show when it became obvious that he wouldn't get this job. Just as he was about to stand up one of Mike´s feet got caught between the chair legs and he nearly fell over if he hadn't grabbed one of the nearby shelves. That was a mistake.
Mike watched in horror as the bust began to wobble and then fell down. It was as if time itself slowed down as he watched the catastrophe to unfold. There was no way for him to push Harvey away – the distance was too wide. The bust would fall on his head and seriously injure – if not outright kill – him.
Without conscious thought Mike thrust his hand forward and used his magic to stop the bust mid-air. With one little gesture he levitated the artwork to the side and slowly set it on the ground. Knowing what would happen next, Mike turned around and faced the other lawyer.
"So, you´re a magician as well," the older man stated drily.
"Please, don't report me," Mike begged fanatically. "I´ll be gone faster than you can blink. You´ll never see me again. Just – please, please – don't report me. I have an elder grandma whose nursing home I´ll have to pay. Please, I beg you…"
"I won´t report you," Harvey said, interrupting Mike who starred at him like a deer caught in the headlight.
"Quite the opposite," the lawyer continued. "I´ll hire you – but you have to drop the skinny ties."
WARNINGS: In the middle of the chapter the car crash in which Mike´s parents die takes place. While not described elaborately it still can be triggering.
So I just wanted to do something with magic and with Suits, so I had the plot bunny 'What if Mike´s secret was that he had magic?' and went with it. Then I always had to think of Channing Tatum as stripper because...you know...Magic Mike ringing any bells?
I know that there wasn´t that much magic in this part of the story, but I had to built the world first and set up the plot before I could move on to more fantastical endeavours. I plan to let the next parts of this series have a plot more concentrated on magic and having the canon plot just as frame work for the 'real' story.
There is simply so much to discober! How magic affects everything: the law, government, architecture, etc. and of course hidden magic societies! (*.*)/
I don´t know when the next part will be published, for I plan to write some chapters for my other stories first-but I always say that and then don´t do it anyway, so you just have to live with the uncertainty. I´m a horrible person *hides away*