When the lift stopped halfway between floor 34 and 35, so did Harvey's heart, just for a moment, before it began to race, speeding up the longer they stayed stationary.

"The lift must have broken down," Mike said. Harvey glared at him.

"No shit, Sherlock," he remarked, determined to keep his voice even. Mike's lips twitched up the edge; half a smile.

"Alright, Watson. Have you got any better ideas?"

Harvey rolled his eyes and stalked over the panel, jabbing his finger at the emergency call button and picking up the phone hidden behind the casing.

A few seconds later a voice answered. "Hello, this is security."

"My name is Harvey Specter, and my associate and I are stuck in a lift."

There was a pause at the other end. "Oh, I see it. Lift three, right. We'll be right on it, sir."

"How long will it take?"

"Should take longer than an hour or so."

"An hour!" Harvey took a deep breath. "I've got a very important meeting to get to. Every minute I'm stuck in this lift is a hundred dollars down the drain. Is there any way you can get this fixed faster?"

"Um, no. Sorry sir. We've got to call the electrician in."

"Okay, okay," Harvey growled. "Thank you." He hung up and composed himself before turning back to Mike.

"Aren't you meeting with Louis this morning, Mr Hundred-Dollars-An-Hour?" Mike joked.

"I don't like wasting time, and time is money," Harvey answered. He pulled at his collar and loosened his tie. Mike was grinning, far too happy about being stuck in a small enclosed space hanging several meters off the ground than was good for anyone.

Harvey sighed. He leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes, distantly aware that Mike was sliding to the floor to sit, and probably rumpling his suit in the meantime. Harvey didn't have the energy to berate him.

It took ten minutes for Mike to notice that there was something wrong.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice was soft but clear.

"Mike," he answered flatly.

"Are you alright? You're looking a bit pale."

"There's a reason every living space I occupy has floor to ceiling glass windows," Harvey snapped through gritted teeth. He could feel Mike's gaze on him so he turned away, pressed his forehead and his palms into the cool glass of the mirror.

"Ah," Mike said eloquently.

Another few minutes passed. Harvey's hands were clammy, and it was all he could do to take even breaths, focusing on the thought of baseball field, with nothing but grass for miles around.

"What's your favourite book?" Mike asked. Harvey didn't answer, but Mike wasn't deterred. "Do you like The Hobbit?"

Harvey sighed. He shrugged his blazer off and sank to the floor, back against the wall and eyes closed.

"I like it well enough," he said. Mike chuckled quietly, and then he began to speak.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort…"

Harvey focused on the sound of Mike's voice, and allowed it to lull him into a false sense of security as he listened to the story. The hobbits had just reached Rivendell when there was a loud clanging noise, and the lift started to move again. Harvey stood, but didn't bother putting his jacket back on; he'd need his spare suit after the beating this one had taken. They shot up rapidly, and Harvey had never been more relieved.

Just before the doors opened, he turned to Mike. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Mike grinned. "Anytime."

Donna was waiting on the other side, pacing back and forth. She swivelled on one foot as they stepped out, and inspected him from head to toe, before her gaze landed upon Mike. There was a knowing gleam in her eye as she looked back at Harvey.

"About time you got here." She sniffed and stalked away.

Harvey smirked at Mike. "Come along rookie. Let's go find Louis, shall we?"