Hey everyone! Warning for some strongish language and drug references again.

A quick excited rant (you can disregard this if you want): I know that everyone's freaking out about Donna lately (I am too!) but did anyone happen to notice that the song playing at the end of the most recent episode when Harvey and Donna are by the elevators is a variation on my theme song for this story? It's called To Build a Home by the Cinematic Orchestra (disclaimer: don't own it) and was (obviously) my titular inspiration. I almost fell off my couch in joy and surprise when I heard it and it helped negate some of my depression about the (hopefully temporary) loss of Donna. I don't really think it means anything significant that they chose that song haha but it's still pretty dang cool!

CHAPTER 6: SIMPLE SONG

I know that things can really get rough

When you go it alone

Don't go thinking you've gotta be tough

And play like a stone

Could be there's nothing else in our lives so critical

As this little home

From "Simple Song" by The Shins

The next few days passed without incident but Mike still felt constantly on edge. He had spent most of the weekend sequestered in his room, trying not to think of the potential consequences of his sudden involvement in the world of drug dealing. Trevor had called him twice but Mike had ignored his phone's buzzing each time. He wasn't sure how he was feeling about the current state of their friendship and wasn't ready to talk to Trevor yet. He had spent most of Saturday poring over Harvey's old law textbooks to distract himself and consequently now had all of them memorized. Harvey had seemed somewhat alarmed at the fact that Mike had gone back to spending so much time in the office again and probably feared that Mike was going to regress and go back to the ghost act that he had favored during his first week in the apartment. This scrutiny made Mike uncomfortable so he had thrown Harvey a bone Sunday afternoon to try and reassure the older man that he wasn't about to pull another mute act. He really didn't know why Harvey cared if he was talking or not (in fact, Harvey acted like it aggravated him a lot of the time when Mike spoke), but Mike found himself wanting to appease Harvey's concern—Harvey clearly knew that something was weighing heavily on Mike's mind but he didn't probe, and for that Mike was grateful.

So he had shown his gratitude by traipsing into the living room with a stack of law books and challenging Harvey to a mock trial. He had lost miserably, of course, but it was fun testing his mind against Harvey's sharp wit, natural talent, and years of practice. In truth, he had held his own for much longer than he had originally anticipated. Harvey actually told him as much and Mike had ducked his head and blushed a bit, trying to stifle the rush of happiness that arose in his chest at Harvey's approval. Harvey had clapped him on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner on his way to the kitchen to call and order dinner, leaving Mike smiling shyly in appreciation of the affection. It had been a long time since anyone besides Grammy had touched him and now he had Donna trying to smother him with hugs on a daily basis and Harvey's rare but meaningful pats on the back or the shoulder. It was strange but kind of nice, he realized. Ever since his parents died he had studiously cringed away from physical affection but he was slowly remembering why he had liked the affirmation in the past.

Spending Sunday evening like that had been a balm for his troubled soul— bantering and arguing fake cases with Harvey made him forget completely about his troubles with Trevor. It all came back to him later, however, while they were sitting at the kitchen table. Mike was attempting to write a history report and Harvey was wading through mountains of paperwork.

He subtly watched Harvey out of the corner of his eye as he worked, trying to decide if he could talk to the older man about his troubles with Trevor. He had thought about it on Friday but had immediately dismissed it. The Peter Stuart incident should have been a done deal by now— everything had gone smoothly, nobody had seen the drop, and Mike hadn't technically participated except by being present at the scene. But he figured it would make Harvey angry to know that Mike had been running around dealing drugs (it would reflect poorly on Harvey's sterling image, after all, if his charge was incarcerated on his watch) and he couldn't think of a way to talk about the problems he was having with Trevor without telling the entire story about the marijuana. When it came down to it, he realized that he just wanted advice from a reliable adult about what to do in regards to Trevor. Should he try to continue to be friends with him despite his poor choices? Or should he just resign himself to being a friendless loser for the next 3 and a half years of high school? He was tired of being responsible and mature. He just wanted someone else to tell him what to do in this situation— and not because that someone wanted to boss him around, but rather because they had his best interests at heart and wanted to help him. He wasn't sure if Harvey fit into that category or not, though.

"Look, Mike, I know I'm attractive but the staring is getting a bit distracting. If you want I'll commission a little portrait of me and you can carry it around with you and look at that instead of blantantly leering at me like you're doing right now," Harvey said sarcastically.

Mike rolled his eyes at Harvey's dramatics. "You take all of your jokes entirely too far, you know," he replied, shaking his head. Harvey must have caught something in Mike's tone because he looked up and scrutinized Mike.

"Did you want something?" Harvey asked, sounding surprisingly serious for once.

Mike considered Harvey carefully for a moment. What he wanted was to spill everything that was going on in his mind, but he found himself holding back. He wasn't sure if he was ready to make the leap and implicitly trust and confide in Harvey. What if Harvey didn't really care about Mike's problems beyond keeping Mike alive and laughed at him for wanting friend advice? All of his old insecurities were resurfacing and he found himself losing his nerve, the words that had been so close to the surface sinking back down out of reach and into the dark oblivion of the back corners of his mind.

"No, I'm okay," Mike said quietly. Harvey looked slightly dissatisfied at this response but said nothing further and they continued to work on in silence until midnight.

Little did Mike know that a few days later he'd be regretting the fact that he hadn't opened up Sunday night when he'd had the chance and told Harvey everything before trouble found him and he was forced to come clean.

(SUITS)

Monday and Tuesday passed quickly and quietly but by Wednesday morning Mike could no longer deny the feeling in his gut that something was wrong, because Peter Stuart hadn't been in school yet that week. Mike tried to tell himself that maybe Peter just had a cold or that he had gone on a long weekend trip, but he knew that he was kidding himself. Knowing his dreadful luck, it was somehow related to what had happened on Friday.

It was now Wednesday afternoon and it was time for his English class. Upon arriving at the classroom Mike quickly scanned the collection of students to see if Peter was there, not really expecting that he would be after his recent absences.

To his surprise, however, Peter was present and was sitting in his normal seat. He looked vaguely unhealthy— kind of pale and clammy like he had just recovered from a nasty bout of the flu. While that seemed like a promising sign that maybe Peter had just been absent because he was sick, the glare on his face when he saw Mike told otherwise. Mike felt a chill run down his spine as Peter continued to scowl at him unabashedly as he walked to his seat and sat down—Peter, who had never noticed Mike or acknowledged him before this moment. Mike whipped his gaze away from Peter's so quickly he got a crick in his neck but he could still feel Peter's eyes boring holes in the back of his head as he sat and tried to listen to the teacher's lecture.

When the bell finally rang Mike was up and out of that classroom before anyone else, even though he sat in the far corner. He darted through the halls to Trevor's locker, checking over his shoulder to make sure that Peter hadn't followed him.

"Trevor, I need to talk to you," Mike said urgently, elbowing his way through Trevor's jock friends that were surrounding his locker. Mike wondered briefly if Trevor was embarrassed by Mike's presence and familiarity with him because he wasn't quite meeting Mike's eyes. A couple of Trevor's new buddies— Mike thought they were named Kyle and Gregory— were exchanging glances and looking like they wanted to laugh at Mike, who suddenly became aware of the fact that his flannel shirt was buttoned one button off and was crooked. He cursed his absentmindedness and his inability to follow social convention.

"Yeah, what's up?" Trevor said. His tone wasn't very friendly or welcoming, but Mike felt a surge of gratitude that Trevor hadn't dismissed him outright to look cool in front of the others.

"Er, it's not something we should discuss here probably. Science project. Boring stuff," he said to Kyle and Gregory by way of explanation. "Come on," he said, dragging Trevor off to a side hallway and ignoring the snickers of Trevor's friends.

"What's going on? I haven't seen you look so scared since we went on that Boy Scout camping trip in 4th grade and you thought you heard a bear behind you when you went to pee in the woods. Is Grammy okay?"

"Yeah, Grammy's fine— look, Trevor I think something's wrong. Peter Stuart literally just stared at me for the entirety of English class like he was about to descend into a homicidal fury and throw me out the window. Not to mention he hasn't been at school for the past two days and he looks terrible. Is something going on?" Mike questioned.

"Jesus, Mike, would you relax? Nothing's wrong. So Peter got a cold and missed a few days of school, big deal. You need to stop being so paranoid," Trevor groaned in exasperation. "I've gotta go; I've got football practice in ten minutes," he said dismissively, taking off down the hallway towards the locker room.

"Since when do you play football?" Mike shouted after him but received no response. Shaking his head, he cut through the math hallway and out the back door of the school as a shortcut. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he needed to stop over thinking this. Still, he had an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. But it probably would be fine. After all, it's not like Trevor was dealing crystal meth or anything, it had just been a bit of weed. Okay, maybe a lot of weed, but still—

Wham! His musing was abruptly cut off as he was suddenly grabbed and shoved roughly and unceremoniously against the fence of the back field behind school, his head slamming uncomfortably against the slats of wood. Unless some student was really out of his or her way, this attack would never be seen back here and there was no hope of being rescued from…well, from whoever the hell it was that had just grabbed him. Mike instantly rued his decision to not go out the front door like he usually did.

"What the hell—" Mike tried to shout but he was cut off by a nasty punch to the right side of his face. He heard laughter from multiple people…two or three he guessed. He gasped as his head exploded in pain, already knowing that his cheek and eye were going to bruise and swell.

"What do you want?" Mike groaned, struggling to identify his attackers. His head was spinning and it was hard to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He tasted blood and realized that his nose was bleeding.

"I think you know what we want, Mike," a familiar voice jeered, and then Mike received a painful punch to the gut. Shit. It was Peter Stuart. He forced himself to open his eyes and recognized the college kid that had been on the front porch with Peter when they had bought the pot. Mike though his name was Derek but wasn't certain. There was also a third guy who looked like he was part giant, looming silently and threateningly behind Derek and Peter. Mike suspected that he had been the one doing the punching.

The hit to the stomach knocked the wind out of him and he tried to control his breathing and not panic, remembering the way that Harvey had helped him to breathe evenly when he was freaking out the other week. He took a few deep breaths in….and out….and in….and out, imagining that he was back at the apartment on the couch and felt a little calmer.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Peter," he snapped. "Let me go and we can talk."

More laughter. "I don't think you're really in a position to be bargaining right now, Ross," Derek sneered. "Now you listen to me, and listen good. That weed that your little buddy sold us? Yeah, it was laced with something. My dear little cousin"—he gestured to Peter— "spent the past four days puking his guts up." Ah. That explained why Peter knew Derek and also why he was looking all pallid and shaky.

"Not to mention the fact that one of our friends had to go the hospital for the whole weekend, he got so sick. We want our money back, now. All of it. You're lucky that we're not calling the cops on you guys," Derek said.

"Look, I think you're all overestimating my involvement in this. I'm not a dealer. I just happened to be with Trevor when he said he needed to bring you guys the stuff. I'm sorry that it was bad weed and I'm glad that your friend is okay, but I had nothing to do with it and I don't know anything about it. I don't have the money, Trevor does. I'm sure he'll give it back to you if you talk to him—" Mike tried to explain in a placating tone.

"Oh, we already tried talking to him about it. We called him on Sunday morning and explained it to him and he hung up on us, the little shit. But fortunately we have you as our bargaining chip and messenger. Go find your friend and tell him that if he doesn't bring the money to my house in the next 3 hours, we'll pay him a visit and your black eye will look like nothing compared to what we'll do to him," Derek threatened grimly, and Mike could tell from his tone that he wasn't joking.

"He'll know that we mean business when he's sees your face," Peter said, roughly shoving Mike away from them like he was diseased. "Now go! Find your bastard friend and get our money!"

Half-giant then proceeded to pick Mike up and bodily throw him in the direction of the football field. Mike wondered in baffled amazement if the guy's father was the Incredible Hulk.

"I could have walked that way on my own," Mike muttered under his breath, picking his bruised and aching body up off the ground and setting off at a rapid clip towards the football team, trying to ignore the creepy feeling of the three guys watching him from behind.

By the time he limped over to the football field the team had left for the locker rooms, so Mike slipped in a side door and went to wait for Trevor in a corner close to the locker room exit.

When Trevor emerged, Mike immediately grabbed a hold of him and pulled him into the alcove.

"Hey, what the hell, man!" Trevor shouted, and Mike clamped his hand over Trevor's mouth before the rest of the football team came to investigate.

"Trevor, it's just me. Look, we need to talk," Mike hissed urgently, letting go of Trevor, who looked like he was about to start hollering again until he caught sight of Mike's face. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Shit, Mike, are you okay? What the hell is going on?" Trevor yelped in concern, moving closer to inspect Mike's injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mike shrugged him off. "But you might not be if we don't fix this now. Peter and Derek and some other guy just cornered me in the back field. They're furious because the stuff you sold them was laced. They said that if you don't get them their money back in the next"— he checked his watch quickly— "two hours and 52 minutes then they'll come after you and make what they did to me look like a joke. Where's the money, Trev?" Mike paraphrased.

Trevor paled. Mike suddenly did not have a very good feeling about this.

"Where's the money, Trevor?" Mike repeated, alarm creeping into his voice. Both he and Trevor were equally broke. If Trevor had spent it all already…well, it wasn't like either of them just happened to have $500 lying around that they could spare.

Trevor's face was ashen now, and Mike almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"You spent it all, didn't you? Holy hell, Trevor. We're screwed. How could you? Why didn't you just pay them back in the first place when they called you Sunday morning?" Mike knew he should stop shouting but he was panicking a little.

"Yeah, I spent it all, okay, Mike? I had to. I had to bail my dad out of jail. He got arrested again Saturday night. The money was already gone when they called me. I tried to call you to tell you about it but you didn't answer. Are you happy now?" Trevor snapped defensively, his voice strained. Mike deflated slightly at this.

"No," he said. "I'm not happy. But we'll figure this out, okay? Do you have any money saved?"

"No, it's all gone," Trevor said bitterly. Mike knew how much Trevor resented his father and his frequent arrests for public drunkenness and brawling and assault.

"Okay, well, I've only got about $200 saved," Mike confessed glumly. "Do you think we could get them to take that now and pay the rest back later?"

"It's our only option, I think. I'll talk to Jason and see if he can get me any more dealing jobs as soon as possible so I can make some quick money," Trevor said.

"Are you kidding me? What's wrong with you? You can't keep dealing; that's what got us into this mess in the first place!" Mike shouted.

"Well I don't exactly see people lining up to give a fifteen-year-old drug dealer and his fourteen-year-old accomplice a job to pay for their own blood money," Trevor said irritably. Mike sank to the floor to sit against the wall, trying to think. Trevor sighed and joined him on the floor.

"I'm really sorry, man. I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in any of this. I didn't think they'd go after you," Trevor said, sounding genuinely regretful.

"Yeah, well….it's okay I suppose. We can talk about that later. But for now….look, Trevor, I think I know someone who can help us, but you've got to trust me on this. Meet me at the park by Derek's house in two hours, okay? I'll be there with the money," Mike promised, clambering to his feet. Trevor looked uncertain but nodded.

"All right, I'll see you in a bit. Stay safe, man. Those guys weren't kidding around. They know exactly who you are and they're pissed," Mike warned, before taking off. Trevor was left sitting against the wall, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable.

(SUITS)

Mike wasn't sure what his plan was exactly when he entered the familiar Pearson Hardman building, but he knew that he had to figure something out and he had to do it soon. He had no one else to turn to besides Harvey right now.

He crept off the elevator and tried to walk so that nobody could see the right side of his face, which was beginning to swell and was still bleeding a bit. Half-giant had apparently been wearing a ring when he punched him, which explained why his cheek was currently bloody.

He snuck over to the hallway by Harvey's office and hid behind a large plant for a moment, feeling completely childish and ridiculous. He could see that Harvey wasn't in his office, but in order to figure out where the older man was he needed Donna to leave her desk so that he could sneak over and read her planner to see Harvey's schedule. If he went over to her and she saw his face like this he would never escape her mothering clutches. He crouched for a moment, trying to think of ways to distract Donna and get her to leave her desk. After a few minutes, however, Donna got up and disappeared to go to the bathroom, taking care of the problem for him. Mike wondered if he had suddenly developed some sort of Jedi mind control ability that made people go to the bathroom when he wanted them to and then wondered if he had hit his head against the fence harder than he thought.

He grabbed the schedule off of Donna's desk, sending up a silent prayer that Harvey was in Pearson Hardman and not off visiting a client or in court today. To his relief, he discovered that Harvey was in a meeting in Conference Room B. Not thinking any further, he tossed the planner back and sprinted down the hallway to get to Harvey, ignoring the stares he was attracting. They only had about an hour and a half left before they ran out of time.

He burst blindly into Conference Room B and instantly regretted it upon seeing that Harvey wasn't alone (although he didn't know why he hadn't thought of that himself, after all, why would Harvey be having a meeting alone in a conference room? Damn adrenaline rush). Jessica Pearson herself was there, looking like a stern goddess. Her gaze was as calm and cool as ever but she definitely wasn't happy with Mike, judging from the way her eyebrow was arched and her lips were pursed. The client Harvey and Jessica were meeting with was a pretentious-looking old man who seemed appalled by Mike's very presence in the room and also seemed appalled at the idea that there was someone in the world who wore incorrectly buttoned flannels out in public. He was eyeing Mike as though he were some sort of strange alien specimen under a microscope and Mike reflected that he probably should have wiped the blood off his face before barging in.

After taking in Jessica and the client's responses to his uninvited presence, he automatically searched for Harvey's face. He frowned when he saw that the chair Harvey had been occupying was empty before belatedly realizing that Harvey had already sprung into action, crossed the room, and was now standing in front of him, his mouth taut and his eyes crinkled in concern.

Harvey tentatively reached out as though to touch Mike's cheek and assess the damage but Mike flinched reflexively and Harvey's hand immediately dropped to his side.

"What the hell is going on? Are you okay?" Harvey said quietly in Mike's ear, grabbing a gentle hold of Mike's upper arm and steering him towards the door before turning around to face the client. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tobias, but either we'll have to reschedule this meeting for another time or you'll have to let Jessica handle your paperwork. It's urgent, as you can see." Jessica quirked an eyebrow at this, looking surprised and slightly displeased, but Harvey shook his head back at her almost imperceptibly.

Mr. Tobias opened his mouth to protest, but Harvey just said "sorry" again and ushered Mike out of the room, the glass door slamming behind them.

Mike stood in the hallway, swaying slightly until Harvey grabbed hold of his arm again, muttering "Easy there, junior." He allowed himself to be dragged back to Harvey's office where Harvey ignored his attempts to apologize for ruining the meeting and pushed him down to sit on the couch. Donna exploded into the room then and spent ten minutes trying to measure Mike's pupil dilation and asking him random questions to determine if he had a concussion (he was able to multiply 4 digit numbers in his head so the verdict was that he was not concussed, fortunately). She then poked around his cheek for awhile before deciding that his cheek bone was not broken, ignoring his weak protests that broken or not, it still hurt when she poked it. Finally Harvey sent her to go get some ice for Mike's cheek.

"Harvey, I'll ice my cheek later. It's fine, really it is," Mike said somewhat desperately as Harvey eyed him dubiously. He checked his watch and, upon seeing that they only had an hour left, decided to just go for it as casually and nonchalantly as possible. "Well, the real reason I stopped by for a chat is…uh, you wouldn't mind loaning me 500 dollars at some point during the next 58 minutes, would you?"

My first cliff hanger! Well, sort of, I don't know if that really was as exciting and dramatic as I was planning haha. I apologize if something doesn't make sense—I really don't know anything about laced weed or drug deals (and I didn't want to google it because I didn't want my mom to see) but it seemed decently plausible to me. Also I know that it might seem like they're making a big deal about $500 dollars but keep in mind that this is taking place like 10 years in the past. Also as a broke college student I can testify that that is a substantial sum of money! And probably would also be a lot to a jobless fourteen year old. On a completely unrelated side note, I was rereading some of this story and I realized that I named Mike's dad Peter and also have a character named Peter Stuart. That wasn't intentional and is quite strange because I don't have particularly strong feelings for the name Peter, but oh well? Also I named Mike's mom Marianne and Harvey's brother Paul…subconscious Peter Paul and Mary reference ftw? haha