Chapter 7
Mike was on time the next morning; more than on time, really – he was actually early. Donna knew something was off the moment she saw him; he was standing too rigid, his smile was too set. His eyes betrayed his nervousness, nervousness that Donna wished he didn't feel he had to have, but knew that given the situation, she really couldn't expect anything else. Harvey had texted her last night, a brief message telling her that Mike would be at work the next day, and that everything seemed "good". She knew that "good" didn't actually mean good, but it was better than what had been for the past while. But despite the uneasiness, Donna was determined to treat everything like normal.
"Good morning Mike," she said, glancing up briefly from her computer as she typed. "Harvey's in his office. You guys have a meeting with Henrickson at noon." Mike gave her a quick thanks, then proceeded to open the door and walk into the room.
–
Harvey was nervous, but he wasn't about to show it. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect; he hadn't seen Mike since he'd left the hospital after chewing him up and spitting him out – he regretted that, now – and he'd barely spoken to him over the week that he'd been away. Donna, as always, had been his lifesaver, taking the initiative to contact Mike numerous times and make sure he was okay. They'd had long conversations about the whole thing, mostly made up of Harvey venting his frustrations and asking why they couldn't just do something to fix it, followed by Donna trying to explain that issues like these don't just "get fixed" like a broken machine, that there were often multiple reasons for self-harm, some going back deep into a person's life, and that as a result it would take a long time to heal. Harvey listened the best he could and agreed that when Mike did come back – because Donna was sure he would – he wouldn't yell or get angry, because – as Donna frequently stated – "that bullshit only makes things ten times worse, never better".
So today Harvey was going to be on his "best behaviour", even if he was still frustrated and upset over the whole thing, and even if he was still angry; because honestly, why hadn't he seen it? How could he have not seen that Mike was upset, that he was hurting and as a result he was hurting himself –.
"Good morning, Harvey."
Harvey looked up, surprised to see Mike; it was earlier than when he usually came in, and he hadn't even heard him open the door.
"Hey," he replied, carefully setting down his file. "You ready for the meeting with Henrickson? He just called, he wants to push the meeting up to ten. You good with that?"
Mike nodded. "Anything you want me to work on till then?"
"Donna already put some files on your desk, so if you wouldn't mind going through them, that'd be great."
"Sure." Mike offered a small smile before he turned and walked out the door.
Harvey immediately felt like an idiot. "If you wouldn't mind"? Really? He'd been so concerned with making sure that he treated Mike like normal, that he overcompensated and basically asked the kid if he felt like working at all. Everything was so tense right now, and that Mike had even come in of his own volition felt like a miracle in and of itself, and for Harvey to mess it up by acting like he was a porcelain doll was the last thing any of them needed.
"So what's your game plan?"
Harvey looked up and saw Donna standing in front of him. He never seemed to hear when she came in anymore. Did the woman walk on air, or something?
"What game plan?"
"THE game plan. Don't be obtuse, Harvey."
Oh, but sometimes it was so much easier to be. Harvey looked back down at his files, grabbing a few and putting them to the side, sorting which ones he'd need to bring with him to the meeting.
"Harvey."
"I don't know, Donna," Harvey said tersely. "I can't have a game plan for everything we do with the kid. I figured we'd just go to the meeting and take it from there."
"You think he's up to it?"
"He cuts himself, Donna; it's not exactly great, but it's not like he's now suddenly incapable of doing anything. He'll be fine."
Donna paused for a long moment, before saying, "He has no one else, Harvey. He has no one else but us. If we let him off the hook with this, if we just ignore it –."
"We're not ignoring it, Donna." Harvey gathered the files and stood to his feet, walking over to where his briefcase lay open on the couch and placing the files inside. "But we can't stop the world from turning while we fix it –" Harvey rolled his eyes at Donna's look, "while we deal with it, so there's no point in trying. Besides, you're the one who keeps saying these things take time, right?"
"Yes they do, but I know you, Harvey. And I know Mike. If there's a way for you two to ignore an unwanted problem, you'll do it."
"I'm the best closer in the city; you think that comes from ignoring problems?"
"I'm talking about personal problems, Harvey. Don't be an ass."
Harvey sighed. After a moment he walked over to Donna, resisting the urge to give her a hug. "Everything will work out, Donna," he said quietly. "He came back to work on his own, that's a good sign. I can mention something later, but right now we have to focus on work. He knows we know, so right now all we can do is wait for him to come to us. The last few times we tried to make him talk, it didn't exactly end well."
Donna sniffed, and Harvey could see a shimmer of tears against her eyes.
"When did you become the rational one?" she asked, laughing lightly.
"Well you weren't doing it, so someone had to step in. This place needs at least one sane person in it."
Donna chuckled and started to walk out of the room, when she paused and turned around. "You'll make sure to tell him he can talk to either of us?" she asked. "I'd tell him myself, but I've been texting him all week, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to hear anything from me anymore."
"Yes, I'll tell him. But I'm not getting out my guitar and singing 'kumbaya'. That can be Louis' job."
Donna rolled her eyes with a smile and closed the door behind her.
The meeting with Henrickson went by more smoothly than Harvey could have possibly hoped for. He and Mike had fallen into their old rhythm so easily that it was as though nothing had ever happened to disrupt it. Henrickson had agreed to hand over some of his company's files to aid in the trial, Harvey and Mike agreed to pay him a bit more money, and both parties had parted relatively pleased. The tension had eased after that, and Harvey and Mike celebrated their success by heading out for lunch to the local pizza place. They'd both returned to the office happier than when they'd left, and for a moment everything felt as though nothing had ever changed.
It was six in the evening by the time that Donna's voice rang through Mike's desk phone, telling him to bring the files he'd been working on to Harvey's office so that they could all end the day and go home. Mike quickly packed up his things and headed down the hallway, his steps lighter then they'd been in a long time.
Both Donna and Harvey were in the room by Harvey's desk; the sun was just beginning to set over the New York skyline, lighting up the room in a soft glow. Donna and Harvey were talking together, and a twinge of panic suddenly shot through Mike, the image looking far too similar to the "talks" they'd had before in this office than he liked. Before he could have time to properly worry, however, Donna looked up at him and gave him a smile, picking up her jacket from Harvey's desk and walking over to him.
"See you tomorrow, Mike," she said, and before Mike could even register what she was doing, she'd planted a quick kiss on the side of his cheek. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she just gave him another smile instead, and walked out the door. Before Mike could say anything, Harvey spoke.
"I've learned not to ask. I suggest you do the same."
Mike turned back to face Harvey, who had his jacket hanging off his arm and was picking up his briefcase with the other. "So we're meeting with Henrickson again tomorrow to pick up the papers?" Mike asked.
Harvey nodded. "Yep. He should be here around nine. I'm gonna be busy with another client, though, so you'll have to take care of it. That all right with you?"
Mike could hear the hidden question underneath, of Harvey actually asking, can you handle it? While Mike didn't want to be treated like glass, didn't want to be treated any differently than before, he knew that, despite what he wanted, things weren't the same as before. They couldn't be. And with everything that had happened – what he did, the way he reacted when Harvey and Donna found out – he could understand why Harvey would want to make sure he was up to working on his own. He didn't much like it, but he understood.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he answered, giving a small smile to show he wasn't offended. Harvey's expression eased, and the two left the room, Harvey flicking off the lights as they went.
"You still driving that bike of yours?" Harvey asked as they walked down the hallway.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Mike replied with a grin. The two passed the room where Mike's desk sat, the computer screen shining brightly in the darkness. Mike stopped as he suddenly realised he hadn't shut his computer down. "I forgot to turn my computer off," he said with a sigh.
"Well I'd wait for you, but I'm actually meeting someone right now. So I'll see you tomorrow," said Harvey.
"Yeah, all right," Mike replied, making his way into the darkened room.
"Hey Mike?"
Mike stopped in front of his computer, grabbing the mouse.
"Yeah?"
There was a brief pause, then, "If you ever need to talk, my door's always open."
"You actually just closed it, Harvey."
"My door at home, you idiot." Mike grinned, and Harvey rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to say something nice, and you're not making it easy."
"Sorry," Mike said. "I forgot how difficult being nice is for you."
Harvey shook his head, resisting the urge to smile. "But seriously, Mike. If you need anything, just… call. Or come over, or whatever."
Mike's grin softened into a smile. "Thanks Harvey," he said, and Harvey left.
Mike quickly hit a few buttons on his computer, saving a few last-minute files before shutting the computer off. He grabbed his things just as the computer shut down, and he made his way out of the room and down the hallway. He was just about to turn to head towards the elevators when suddenly a voice sounded behind him.
"Mr. Ross?"
Mike halted, quickly turning around to see Jessica standing outside her office, looking at him with an unreadable expression that still managed to instantly make Mike nervous.
"Yes?" he said.
"Could you come into my office for a moment?"
Mike swallowed, but quickly followed the woman through the door and into the room.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, though Mike couldn't see anything on her desk. "Or maybe some supper? You know what, let's just order in a big steak dinner from one of the nearby five-star restaurants, shall we? Which place is your favourite?"
Mike stood completely still, confused. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked.
"Oh I'm sorry," Jessica said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Was there maybe another food you wanted to eat? Because we could get it catered to you, whatever you like. You already seem to think we do that, anyway."
Now Mike was really confused; he knew that Jessica was pissed, but he didn't know why.
"I'm sorry, but what are you talking about?"
"Well I just figured that since you took the entire week off last week, never bothered to tell your boss and never answered your phone, that you had somehow got it into your head that we here at Pearson-Hardman make a habit of catering to our associates' every whim and desire. I didn't want you to feel as though we were behaving sub-standard."
Mike frowned. "Jessica –."
"Ms. Pearson, to you."
Mike bit back a huff. "Ms. Pearson," he said. "The reason I took last week off was because I had… I had some personal issues that I needed to deal with, and I –."
"Were your personal issues life-threatening?" Jessica interrupted.
Mike was taken aback. "No, but –."
"Was someone in your family dying?"
Mike's eyes narrowed. "No, but –."
"Then whatever it was, you could have dealt with it on your own time. Many kids your age would die to get a position as an associate here, and they've actually done the work to do it. You should be thanking God that you're here, instead of acting like you own the place. Do I make myself clear?"
Mike fought to keep his breathing controlled and ignore the suddenly loud thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "Yes, Ms. Pearson, I understand and I'm sorry, but I –."
"I don't want your excuses. People here depend on each other to get our work done. We are a team – and when you treat that team like garbage, everyone pays for it. Do you understand? Do you know how many times Harvey needed your help last week? So many meetings would have gone smoother if he'd actually had his associate doing his job. Since you weren't there, he had to pull one of the other associates to do your work, and they ended up nearly botching the entire thing. We can't keep paying for your mistakes, Ross."
Mike couldn't help but be surprised at the revelation. Harvey hadn't said anything about what Jessica had said, he hadn't even texted him, telling him what was happening. All he got were texts from Donna asking if he were okay. They were needing help, they needed his help, and all he'd done was sit at home feeling sorry for himself, doing the very thing that everyone was so upset over in the first place –.
"Do you understand, Mike?" Jessica asked. "Do something like that again, and you're out of here. I don't care what Harvey says."
Mike swallowed, and nodded his head. "Yes."
"Good. Now go home."
Mike quickly left the room and headed to the elevators. Soon he was out of the building and riding his bike, forcing himself to calm down as he pedalled down the familiar path to home.
He walked into his apartment, closing the door silently behind him, standing silently for a long moment in the darkness. After a minute he turned on the light and made his way to the couch, where he deposited his messenger bag and coat.
Jessica's words swam through his head like a shark, cruel and relentless, circling around his mind ceaselessly, replaying the conversation like a broken record – replaying everything he wanted nothing more than to forget.
She was right. He'd been selfish, incredibly selfish. It was his fault he cut himself, not Harvey and Donna's; they'd only wanted to help him, like any normal person would. Heck, Harvey had even taken him to the hospital when he'd cut too much, and how did he repay him? He got angry and skipped work for a week, not asking permission and not telling anyone where he'd gone.
His arm itched. Mike scratched it absently with his hand, glancing at the clock on the wall and vaguely thinking that he should be making supper. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a pot from the cupboard, filling it with water; he'd make spaghetti tonight, he thought. He went to the drawer and opened it, taking out a knife to cut the added ingredients for the sauce. He started to take out the ingredients from the fridge when he stopped, his eyes catching the edge of the knife as it reflected the light from above. It wasn't a serrated knife, the kind he usually used to cut, but the shimmer off the edge made it attractive nonetheless, and besides, his arm just wouldn't stop itching.
Mike bit his lip, his grip tightening on the handle. The urge to cut was stronger than it had been in a long time; he wasn't an idiot – he knew why he wanted to do it, despite the fact that the cutting itself was the reason everything had been going wrong in his life right now.
Jessica had made him feel so small; had made him feel as though he were the worst person in the world, had made him feel like an idiot. The voice in the back of his mind agreed with her, saying it was merely confirmation of what had already long been known, that he deserved all the tongue-lashings he'd been getting from everyone, because no matter how hard he tried to change, no matter how hard he tried to be a better person than he was, he still failed. He was worthless. He was worthless and they knew it, and he knew it, and-.
Mike blinked suddenly aware that the knife, which had been by his side only a moment ago, was now pressed against his forearm, ready to do what it had done so many times before. Ready to quell the itch that wouldn't leave, ready to punish him for all he deserved, ready to take the pain in his heart and place it on his arm instead, which could handle it far better than his heart ever could. Mike took a breath, pressed the edge more forcefully against his skin, and…
Stopped.
Mike stood only for a moment, the knife held in the air, before he placed it back on the counter with a clatter. He walked back into the living room and towards his messenger bag, reaching in and taking out the phone that lay inside. He opened up his contacts list, and a few moments later his thumb was hovering over Harvey's name and the small phone icon beneath it. He hesitated, wondering if Harvey really meant what he'd said, if he'd actually say 'yes', or if he'd get mad at him for calling and tell him off. It took a few, long minutes for Mike to make up his mind, before he finally pressed the call-button and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey," Mike said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He'd been sure a moment before, but now…
"Hey," Harvey replied. "What's up?"
"Are you… I mean… I know you said you were going to a meeting, but I was wondering if maybe… you were at home?"
There was a pause, then, "Yeah, I'm at my place. My date for dinner canceled so I decided to pick up and eat alone on my couch like a regular stilted man. Something the matter?"
"I was just… I ran into a bit of trouble on the way home, and I was just wondering if maybe – maybe I could… come over? I know you don't like having lots of company, but I just thought –."
"What kind of trouble? Did someone try to mug you? Are you okay? See, I told you your bike was a hazard – you should be driving to work, or better yet, have someone else drive you – there's no reason you shouldn't –."
"No, Harvey, no, I'm fine. I didn't get mugged. I just… I had a talk with… with Jessica, that's all. And I thought maybe if you weren't doing anything, I could –."
"Jessica? When did you talk with Jessica? What did she say?"
"I –."
"You know what, never mind. Of course you can come over. Do you want me to send the car to pick you up? He can be there in twenty minutes."
"No, no, that's fine; I'll just take a taxi. But thanks."
"Don't mention it. See you in a bit."
Mike arrived a half-hour later, and soon he was sitting on Harvey's couch and being handed a steaming cup of hot-coffee.
"So what did Jessica say?" Harvey asked, sitting on the chair beside the couch. "And don't leave anything out."
Mike felt like a schoolboy tattling on the mean teacher to his parent, but the look that Harvey had was the one he only gave when he was determined to get answers – or determined to close a case.
So Mike told him. He edited some things out, but told him the basic story of what had happened. Needless to say, Harvey was not happy.
"Who does she think she is, telling my associate off like that? That's my job."
"She's your boss, that's who she is," Mike retorted. "Which makes her mine. But honestly, Harvey, I deserved it. I shouldn't have skipped last week without telling you."
"No, Mike, you didn't. She didn't even come to me to ask if I knew why you weren't at work. If she had, I could have told her to leave you the hell alone."
"Harvey –." Mike began, then stopped. He took a breath, then started again. "Harvey, I'm… sorry that you have to treat me like a kid. I'm sorry I've been acting like one."
"I'm not treating you like a kid, Mike," Harvey said sternly, setting his mug on the coffee table. "I'm treating you like a human being. And your week off was partly my fault, too. I shouldn't have ever pushed you to talk when you weren't ready, or yelled at you. When you're ready to talk, I'll listen."
Mike knew that Harvey was being honest and caring in a way he was with few others, and the knowledge of that was sobering, and not the least bit humbling. So after a long moment of picking at a string on his shirt, Mike finally spoke.
"My parents are dead, Harvey."
Harvey sighed. "I know, kid."
So Mike talked. He talked about his childhood, his parents' death, how his memory allowed him – forced him – to remember every detail about the night they died, and all the nights after. He talked about growing up with his grandmother, who, though as headstrong and determined as she had ever been in her younger years, was still taking on a responsibility not meant to be given to someone her age, and how that reality ended up putting strain on the both of them.
He talked about being bullied in junior high and high school, and how one day he accidentally sliced his hand while making dinner, and how that led him to start cutting himself on purpose, finding it the only thing that calmed him down and made him feel like he had some semblance of control over what felt like an out-of-control life. He told him how it became a secret that he shared with no one, that, despite knowing it wasn't healthy, he couldn't help but secretly treasure. He told him how he'd decided to stop when he graduated high school, determined to start anew, but that despite all his efforts, he failed, and he continued to cut himself sporadically throughout the next decade of his life. It culminated – he reluctantly admitted – with his and Harvey's fight over Jessica over seven months before, and he had been cutting regularly ever since.
And Harvey listened. He didn't yell at him, he didn't turn away, he didn't look at him like he was a freak. And for the first time in a very long time, Mike felt as though he finally knew what it felt like to have a friend.
Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art...
It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things
that give value to survival.
- C.S. Lewis
