Chapter 2

Mike closed his eyes, and leaned heavily against the wall as he tried to stop the world from spinning.

It was almost over, the told himself. All he had to do was get the documents ready and then he's going to take the longest nap he'll ever take in his life.

That is, if Harvey would let him leave before 8pm today. The idea would've been laughable on most days, but today Mike was at the end of his rope, and he wanted it to be true, just this once. So, he decided to test the waters by asking the person who knew Harvey like she was his own mother.

"Nope," Donna said without looking up from her computer screen.

He blinked owlishly, then placed the heavy stack of documents on top of her cubicle divider. She stared at the offending pile like it was a pile of crushed cockroaches. Normally, Mike wouldn't dare risk the wrath of Harvey's right hand woman, but his arms were killing him today. Along with his head, which was aching abominably.

"I've not even said anything," he protested.

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face."

"And what am I saying, oh great psychic?"

"You want to know if Harvey will let you leave early today," she said, her fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard as she worked.

He couldn't help but be impressed.

"There's no way you could've known that."

She winked. "I have my ways. Besides, anyone could see from your hangdog expression that you're just about done. And are you coming down with something?"

He shrugged. "If I say yes, would Harvey show me mercy?"

"No, but I'd suggest you stand five feet away from me because I'm not going to get what you have," she said, making a shooing motion with her well-manicured hand.

When he didn't move, Donna cleared her throat, and stared pointedly at him. He sighed and took a few steps back.

"So. No chance, huh?"

She shook her head. "He's in a mood," she said, making a face.

"He's been 'in a mood' the whole week. Shouldn't he be over that now, seeing that, I don't know, we won the case?" he asked in disbelief.

Bad enough that Rollins nearly tried to kill himself last week – Harvey had been driving him up the wall for weeks before, giving him impossible task after impossible task as he battled Leah Johnson, the she-demon of a lawyer for Pharma Medical. It would be a total understatement that the normally unflappable Harvey Specter was extremely bothered by the leggy blonde. Harvey remained testy even after they won the case, saying that Leah was up to something.

"They should just get a room already," Rachel had muttered to him the other day as they both struggled through stacks and stacks of documents in the library.

"Enemy sex? You know, for Harvey, that could be a good idea ..." he said, throwing her a tired smile.

On top of the on and off fever that he have been suffering the last three days and Louis Litt's non-stop ill-timed demands, Mike was more than tempted to just walk out of Pearson Hardman – dream career, great pay and second chances be damned. He couldn't remember being this tired or drained.

He's no good to Harvey half dead like this.

Fuelled with sudden determination, Mike marched towards his cubicle, determined to get his bag and head out of the office whether Harvey liked it or not. That is until Harvey came storming towards him.

"In my office. Now."

Shit. Harvey was using the "you screwed up bad and I'm going to chew you up and spit you out" voice. Sighing, he trailed after Harvey and caught Donna looking at him semi-sympathetically.

"What the hell did you just do?" Harvey roared once the door closed behind them. Yes, roared. Mike winced – did the glass doors around Harvey's office rattle ... ?

"If you start explaining, maybe I can give you an answer," he found himself saying. Right after the words tumbled out of his mouth, he couldn't believe he had said it. What was he trying to do? Commit harakiri?

Harvey came so close to him that they were almost nose to nose. The glare from his slate grey eyes threatened to bore holes into his eyes. He found himself momentarily disoriented and turned away, feeling dizzy.

Harvey mistook that gesture as defeat, and growled, "You forgot to file the documents."

He searched his fuzzy brain for the "documents" Harvey was talking about. He found himself rubbing his cheek distractedly as his usually sharp memory utterly failed him.

"Hey!" Harvey snapped.

Blinking, Mike returned his bleary gaze to Harvey, who stared into his eyes once more.

"I don't believe it," Harvey growled.

"What?" he mumbled, confused.

"You're high."

"What?" he exclaimed, Harvey's out-of-the-blue comment momentarily waking him up.

"You're spaced out," Harvey snapped, then cursed under his breath as he tossed a pile of papers to the floor. It fluttered messily around them.

And Mike finally remembered.

"No, wait. I did file those. I swear," he said as he picked one sheet up.

"Oh, really. That would explain why I found them sitting on your desk. And that probably explains why Leah Johnson managed to find a chink in our defense to drag our client into another civil suit," Harvey said, his voice taut with fury.

Confused, he picked up the papers. He recognised his writing … and realised that Harvey was right. That somehow he had forgotten to file the documents like he should have. But he couldn't have forgotten, could he? Because he did not forget anything. Ever.

"Sober up," he said. "And Mike? I don't give people second chances. After this case you can pack up your things," he snapped.

Mike was so shocked at what Harvey said that he could only stare, confused, at the man. When he finally had the brain power to react, he shook his head in protest.

"Harvey – "

But Harvey didn't want his explanations at all.

"Get out," he said coldly. With that, the man turned his back on him, going through a bunch of files on his desk.

"What? You're not going to even hear me out?"

"There's nothing to hear," Harvey said without looking at him.

"What about, 'I am not high'?"

This time, Harvey turned towards him, his eyes still cold.

"I'm only going to say this one more time. Get out."

And just like that, his legal career was over. Normally, he would have protested vehemently at this treatment. Or hoped that Harvey was just kidding. Or hell, even threaten to tell Jessica on him. But he was tired. Bone deep tired. And all he wanted to do was just goddamn sleep already. Right now, that was far more important than Harvey Specter's approval or his shiny fake legal career.

Numbly, he trudged out of Harvey's office, ignoring Donna's shocked look, and the curious stares of his soon-to-be ex-colleagues.