So here we are folks – Sunday, as promised. I realised as I was reading this through that I haven't set any timeframe on when this story actually takes place. This installment clears that up I guess, based on who is at what stage of promotion. I'm going to say this is late season 2 – I think. Pre-Rachel but post-Hardman. The others get a turn in this one too, so let's welcome in Louis and Jessica. This one also gets a tiny bit business-y. I felt it was the best way to go rather than just some big brawling showdown. It felt (to me, I hope to you as well) that it would 'fit' in the show better. But hey, what do I know, this is my one day off this week and I'm super drowsy which will explain any mistakes!

Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy it. Ramble over!


Chapter Six.

For Louis the morning had been a puzzle.

From the moment he had set foot through the doors something, somewhere had just been off.

It had taken nearly two circuits to fathom and he had nearly, nearly called in Jessica but suddenly the answer had come a-calling; Donna was away from her desk and not just away getting-coffee away but actually, physically, not in away.

The same had also been true of Harvey which was why the sight of a man in his office – a man in a green velvet jacket no less – had just about topped off his confusion. Harvey Specter had missed a meeting? The sounds of opportunity rang loud in his head as did his imaginings of Jessica's gratitude.

"Thank you Louis, for making sure we didn't lose a client today. Named partnership is yours along with my eternal admiration."

It sounded good, it would look even better and within a second he had made his choice. Stepping towards the office door he cleared his throat and pulled his suit jacket in. He was about to get a leg-up on Harvey. No, that sounded wrong – way too suggestive. He was about to get a leg over Harvey. There, much better and stepping forward he extended a hand,

"Hello, Louis Litt, Senior Partner. Can I help you?"


By the time Harvey stepped off the elevator he was not a great deal later for work than usual, which – given that he had stopped to threaten the daylights out of a bartender, have him write a full sworn statement and deal with other issues besides – retrospectively was pretty good going. In fact he was feeling almost cheerful as he rounded the corner of Donna's empty desk and walked headfirst into a grey-suited figure.

"Louis," he growled as the smaller man bounced right off his chest, "What are you doing coming out of my office?"

Taking a moment to readjust his apparel the financial expert issued a frown; equal parts excuse-me and just-wait-and-see. Both made Harvey feel uneasy.

"Louis – ,"

"If I were you Harvey, I'd actually be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" he echoed, his expression darkening. Every word of his ensuing question was punctuated forcefully, "What did you do?"

"Uh, I only kept your important new client busy while you were off shirking your responsibilities."

Harvey blinked – once, twice then again – his mind stalling over the first half of the sentence. Stepping closer he glared down coldly,

"Important new client?"

Louis shuffled backwards, clearly having graduated from Coward High with Andre. Waving a hand towards Harvey's office he could barely hide the confusion in his tone,

"Tucker Stem – ,"

He barely finished. Harvey was in through the door like a shot; clearing Donna's cubicle in three long strides and coming to a standstill alongside his desk. The scene that awaited him was almost comically normal. Tucker Stemmings was sat on his couch, turning over an old LP and swilling a glass of scotch in one hand. His attire – as usual – was a gaudy affair this time in hues of forest and lime and at his side sat a familiar blue folder with a leaf of loose paper jutting out of one side. On seeing his lawyer the older man smiled and put down his drink to extend a hand.

"Harvey," he began, buttoning his jacket and standing like a King receiving visitors at court. In his god damn office no less, "I do hope whatever kept you wasn't serious? I know I should have booked an appointment but I couldn't get through to your secretary this morning and Louis here has been kind enough to – ,"

As Louis beamed in anticipation of gratitude Harvey beat them both to the crux, stepping forward with eyes that flashed danger and balling his hands up into tight fists,

"You've got some god damn nerve showing up here,"

"Uh, Harvey," Louis countered nervously, "Mr. Stemmings came by to give you – ,"

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"I said bullshit," Harvey replied, talking to Louis but his eyes still on Stemmings, "He didn't come here to give me anything – he came to see if I know what he did."

Louis faltered,

"Wh – what did he do?"

"Go on, tell him," Stemmings cut in; loud, even and completely unruffled. He paused briefly to sip at his drink and Harvey watched his grey eyes sparkle. The bastard was actually enjoying it all – including the part where he got to play innocent, "Then when you're done you can tell me too, since I'm not quite sure what I'm being accused of."

"You know exactly what you're being accused of,"

"Bringing back your papers?" Stemmings replied, blithely holding up the folder, "I signed them by the way. I'm surprised Michael left them, but then he did seem a little preoccupied last night."

"You son of a bitch," Harvey breathed, already moving as he said it. Reaching Stemmings he knocked away the folder, sending a cascade of documents through the air. Tucker Stemmings never flinched but Louis jumped nearly a foot in the air,

"Harvey, what – ,"

"This doesn't concern you Louis and unless you want to be a witness I suggest you leave."

The smaller man wavered in the doorway, clearly torn between breaking things up – whatever things actually happened to be – and getting a million miles away. Either to help him or notch up the stakes, Tucker Stemmings smiled back at him coolly,

"I don't know about you Mr. Litt, but to me that sounds a lot like a threat, which isn't something I'd usually expect from the man I hired to represent me,"

Harvey grabbed him by the lapels, shunting him backwards by two or three steps,

"You think I'd agree to be your lawyer after what you did?"

Louis faltered and fled from the room. Harvey barely registered him go; as far as he had been concerned it had always just been he and Stemmings.

"I had hoped," the older man shrugged, eerily cool for a man under threat, "After all, I did so like your employees – ,"

Harvey gave him a two-handed shove, sending the millionaire back into the metal framework of the couch and delivering him heavily onto the cushions. For the briefest of moments he looked mildly stunned. Harvey stepped closer, towering over him,

"You're a god damn son of a bitch."

"Yes," Tucker noted dryly, "I think we've covered that."

"What you did – ,"

"What I did? What did I do? Your associate came over unwell and I simply offered to take him home. So far not a crime."

Harvey levelled a finger at him,

"Don't play dumb with me – you drugged him – and as for taking him home? I think we both know where he would have ended up had he not been smart enough to see through your crap."

Tucker Stemmings sat back and sighed. His expression was curious and all kinds of creepy. The man looked certifiably insane and it was surprising just how many businessmen were. Sometimes the world Harvey moved in was a dark one.

"You think I drugged Michael?"

The constant use of Michael sent a shiver down Harvey's spine. It hadn't bothered him throughout their first meeting but then that had been before. His eyes darkened,

"I know you did."

"Then I'd be delighted to see whatever proof you have, clear up this little misunderstanding."

Harvey paused then almost smiled. So here they were; the heart of the matter and suddenly Harvey was holding all the cards. Stemmings had chosen to target Mike – aside from personal thoughts and feelings – purely because he thought he could. Tucker Stemmings was a man who had everything and his mistake was that he expected to keep it, just so long as the money kept coming. In his world it was probably more than enough but in Harvey's world it definitely wasn't and reaching into his inside pocket he drew out and slowly unfolded a letter.

"I've got everything I need right here,"

"Really?" drawled Stemmings, his grey eyes disinterested, "And what is that, if I might ask?"

"The sworn statement of Andre Bettencourt – bartender at The Corinthian Club and the man who drugs the clientele for you."

For a second a look flashed across Stemmings' features; irritation, alarm and disbelief all at once. It vanished again just as quickly but to Harvey it was the signal he needed.

"I thought that might change things."

"I'm not sure it does," Stemmings countered, "Because it's his word against mine and you know – as well as I do – that cases like this rarely make trial."

"Only it's not just his word, it's Mike's word too."

Stemmings smiled,

"Are you sure about that?"

Harvey snorted; understanding the subtext. Flunitrazepam was all but notorious for its potency and in particular its amnesiac effects. Clearly it was Stemmings' fall back plan but this time around the situation was different and whether Mike remembered or not he was still Harvey's ace in the hole.

"Oh I'm sure, because you made one mistake. See, not only did you target my guy but you chose the one associate in the firm with a photographic memory. So I don't give a shit what you gave him because he's going to remember everything."

Stemmings blinked at him,

"You're lying."

"I'm not but I don't expect you to believe me. We'll just take this to the police and let them decide if Mike can remember things – which they will, once I've had him recite the dictionary. Besides, even if they don't, I've still got written proof of the presence of drugs at your club. So if you don't go down that glorified museum will and I'll make sure everyone knows exactly who's to blame."

For thirty seconds Tucker Stemmings said nothing; his mind – behind the cold hard eyes – moving almost a mile a minute. He had recognized the threat the moment he heard it; still ringing loud from the night before when Mike had spluttered much the same thing. It meant that mentor and associate had spoken and while it didn't prove Mike's abilities it certainly didn't disprove them either, which meant that he had precious little option. Reluctantly he whet his lips,

"What do you want Specter?"

"Preferably? Your head on a stake, but right now I'll settle for your business."

"What?"

Harvey smiled; it wasn't a kind expression. From the moment Mike had dropped onto his couch right until the early hours – when exhaustion had finally called Harvey to bed – the wheels in the closer's head had been turning; sorting through his various options. In the end the plan had been the most obvious and although he had seen the big reveal differently, the truth was it didn't matter where it happened just so long as it actually happened.

"An hour ago I signed Intratek as my client."

Stemmings blinked; confusion blooming,

"Intratek? Why? You know they're bankrupt Harvey. It's the reason they were going to have to accept my buy-out. The buy-out you were going to draw up the paperwork for."

"I was," Harvey nodded coolly, "When you were my client – which you're not anymore because they are and I've already drawn up the papers for them. But here's the thing Tucker, see, you're not buying them out because they don't need it. Thirty minutes ago they found a lender."

Stemmings snorted,

"I don't believe you,"

"You should. His name's Elliott Letts, you've probably heard of him – eighth richest businessman in the country, about five foot nine, you screwed him out a deal a couple of years ago – any of this stuff ringing bells?"

Stemming glowered at him; evidently that was a yes.

"Alistair would never sell Intratek – ,"

"No, he would never sell Intratek to you. But as it turns out he and Elliott have a lot in common."

"Which means, I suppose, a mutual dislike of myself," Stemmings dripped,

Harvey shrugged,

"Well, dislike wasn't the word they used although it's pretty close. But what it means is that Intratek can carry on developing their model and with Elliott's money behind them they're going to be able to put it out on the shelves a hell of a lot quicker than your crappy alternative. Within a year they're going to have cornered the market and your product will come out too little too late."

He finished with another cool smile, designed primarily to make Stemmings blow. In that respect it worked almost perfectly,

"Damn it Harvey!" the smaller man bellowed, launching forward off the couch but stumbling a little as the leather folds hung on to him, "This is my company! This is my life!"

"What about Mike's?" Harvey shot back, matching him toe-toe with ferocity, "Because if you think this is a step too far, trust me, this is me being generous. My other option was the District Attorney and you'd better believe that if you put so much as one toe wrong between now and the rest of your days I'm going to know about it and the next time I'm not going to be so lenient. If you so much as look at Mike Ross again, I won't even bother the DA, I'll put you in the ground myself."

As he had been speaking Harvey had slowly been pacing closer, moving like a tiger stalking a deer. For his part Stemmings' bravado had wavered; hit with having been bested professionally and the realisation that the same was true physically. In response he inched towards the door but although he was defeated, he wasn't going easily; he never had and he certainly never would.

"All this over some kid?" he spluttered bitterly, his face creasing up to such an extent that his eyes nearly vanished inside the folds of his cheeks, "Are you jealous Harvey? Is that was this is? You want to keep him for your own sordid ends? If you'd have said I could have shared – ,"

At the exact same moment that Jessica Pearson reached Harvey's office – Louis in tow like a nervy Jack Russell – Tucker Stemmings exited bodily; propelled by a solid right-hook to the cheek. The managing partner side stepped easily but Louis wasn't quite so quick, almost physically catching Stemmings and then stumbling backwards towards Donna's desk. If it weren't for the fact that Stemmings was in velvet it would almost have been difficult to tell them apart.

"Harvey – ,"

"Jessica, get him out of here,"

Harvey's tone was hoarse with fury and in all the years that she had known him, Jessica had never seen him so close to the edge. He was half an inch away from murderous and regardless of what had happened between the men her course of action was instantly clear.

"Louis," she started, eyes not leaving Harvey, "Take Mr. Stemmings to my office and get him some ice. I'll be there in a minute."

"But – ,"

"Now Louis."

"Fine."

The sound of pained grunting filled the corridor; not that Harvey seemed to care. In the time it took for Jessica to blink he had spun on the spot and returned to his office; an exit followed by the clink of crystal ware. Jessica followed a pace or two behind him and by the time she made it through the partition her senior partner had already been drinking. Filling a second glass he offered it across to her and she took it silently; at least for a second.

"Isn't it a little early?"

"That depends on how long you've been up," he answered flatly, flexing his fingers and glancing down at his knuckles. Three of them were red and blotchy. Jessica took a sip of her drink,

"So do you want to tell me what happened? Or do I have to fire your ass?"

"Right now, I don't give a shit what you do."

"You hit a client Harvey," Jessica pressed him, fighting to keep her own anger in check, "What I want to know is why and why, for that matter, are Donna and Mike Ross absent today?"

Harvey looked up at her, clearly surprised and taking another long, cool sip Jessica raised her brows in amusement,

"You think I don't notice when something is off? This is my firm Harvey, it's my job to notice. So if you want to tell me what's going on, now's your chance, otherwise I'm instructing Tucker Stemmings to press charges and you'd better believe that I'll represent him myself."

Harvey blinked; his expression neutral.

"Then you might want to hold off on having a drink with him. Not that you're exactly his type."

Jessica sighed and took a seat in the armchair; sensing a long and sorry tale to follow. She swilled the scotch in the tumbler idly,

"Alright, I'm listening but this better be good."

It was better than good; it was practically unbelievable.