Thanks for the very kind reviews! More plot! And this one's long-ish! Thanks for waiting. Now, enjoy!
"I brought soup," Donna said when Harvey opened the door. She was holding a large brown paper bag, presumably containing the promised soup.
"It's not really…Thanks," Harvey said. Soup would do everyone good, even if it wouldn't fix Mike.
She set it on his counter and started getting some bowls out. "You look horrible, by the way."
"How observant of you. I knew I asked you over for a reason." Harvey knew it was a weak response, that she was judging him by it, but he was too tired to do better, and too tired to care that he couldn't.
"It must be bad." Harvey nodded at her questioning gaze. "So where's Mike?"
"Sleeping."
She looked at the bedroom door, then down at the sink, where the mostly full breakfast plates were sitting. "He a terrible cook?"
Harvey rubbed his hands over his face. "No clue. I only got a couple bites in before…"
She stared at him as he trailed off, eyes searching for something. "Okay, scale of one to ten, how bad are we talking, here?"
Harvey assumed she wasn't referring to Mike's cooking. "Eleven."
She stared once more at the bedroom door before returning her attention to the soup. Harvey just let his head rest in his hands over the dining table. He felt exhausted.
He looked up just in time to see Donna heading over to the bedroom with a bowl of soup in her hands. He got to her just in time.
"Better not," he said, taking the bowl from her. It was hot, and he'd rather not have anyone add burns onto their growing list of injuries.
She frowned at him but didn't argue. He took it back to the table and sat next to it, waiting.
"I'm guessing he's not sick."
He shook his head.
"And that he's actually here….alive."
Harvey gave her a look for that one. She was just trying to make him feel better, he knew, but it was failing spectacularly.
"He…he told me a bit about what happened. It was bad. I think he needs to see someone about it. But he won't listen to me. He just wants to pretend it didn't happen." Harvey knew it was risky to tell her so much, but he couldn't do this alone anymore. And if there was anyone he trusted with anything and everything, it was Donna.
"Harvey, you can't just make someone listen to you."
He looked at her with confusion. He made people listen for a living. It was why he had this job, and why he had Mike.
"I know you're smarter than that, Harvey. He has to want to not pretend. If it's as bad as it seems, then he probably won't want to. Forcing him to try will only make things worse."
Harvey knew she was right, but it didn't help. If he couldn't make Mike better, then what was he supposed to do? See him like this everyday? He didn't know if he could handle that.
"He's in bad shape, Donna."
She didn't answer, and he didn't continue. They just sat there in silence for a while. He felt better just being near her, despite the helplessness he felt about Mike. Donna always made him feel better.
"Harvey? I think I'm—" Mike said suddenly and stopped short in the doorway to the bedroom as he noticed Donna. He looked like it hurt to stand, but he didn't make a move towards the chairs.
Harvey took a deep breath, afraid Mike would be mad, or that seeing Donna would trigger something again. But Mike seemed to relax a little, instead.
Donna looked at him and pointed to the soup. "It's getting cold. This stuff doesn't grow on trees, you know."
Mike looked scared for a second, but Harvey felt relieved to see it was more the panic he displayed only for Donna, and not the terrified out of his mind panic he'd displayed earlier.
Mike sat down and took a big bite of the steaming liquid, closing his eyes in enjoyment.
"Oh my God. What's in this? Is it legal?" Mike said, and Harvey felt better, normal.
Donna snickered. "I'm afraid I'll have to withhold that information."
Harvey gave a relieved chuckle. "It's really nothing special. She bought it at—"
Donna gave Harvey a smack on his shoulder and a look that promised death to his firstborn.
Mike snorted and pointed rudely at Harvey. "'No soup for you!'"
Harvey knew the kid was feeling better if he was laughing and quoting "Seinfeld" of all things. It felt almost normal. He wished they could just go on like this, but he also knew Mike needed to heal on the inside, and pretending would only last so long. But this would do…for now.
…
Harvey watched Donna leave and Mike follow her to the door. She had stayed for most of the day, and had even brought Harvey some work to do. They'd played a couple games of Scrabble and eventually Harvey had ordered a pizza for lunch. It had been an enjoyable and mostly normal day. And Harvey realized as she left, just how much he and Mike had needed it.
Mike locked the door when she'd finally left, but now he was just standing there.
Harvey waited for him to do something, anything, but nothing happened.
"Mike?" Harvey's inquiry was met with silence, and he wondered if Mike was trying to say something, or trying not to say something.
"He…he walked me up to my place. I said goodnight, but he put his foot in the door. He kissed me. I told him I wasn't interested and he turned to leave." Mike's voice was quiet, but Harvey was so still he could have heard a pin drop. He waited for Mike to continue.
"The door had closed, so he went to open it. I felt stupid, like I'd led him on, so I said I was sorry, and he…he said, 'Don't be' and turned the lock. I tried to get away, knew I had to run. I just couldn't. I was so pathetic, Harvey." Mike leaned his head against the door, and Harvey knew the man was crying. He resisted the sudden urge to hug his associate and instead remained seated at the dining table.
"You aren't pathetic," Harvey said, voice hard but gentle.
Mike's shoulders shook slightly and after a minute he turned from the door. He looked at Harvey, eyes filled with tears. "Then why did I let him get me?"
Harvey's stomach churned. Did Mike really believe it was his own fault? "I doubt you let him do anything, Mike."
Mike shook his head sadly. "I only scratched his face."
Harvey's mental light bulb lit up. He silently and discreetly texted the info to Vanessa from under the table.
Mike didn't notice, just kept going. "I didn't even get further than the front door, Harvey. He held me down with one hand. If that's not pathetic, then I don't know what is." Mike sounded angry, and it made Harvey hate Mike's rapist all the more, that he was still hurting Mike even after the fact.
He stood slowly from his chair, drawing Mike's gaze. "Listen to me, rookie. You are not pathetic. You're a reflection of me, and I'm certainly not pathetic. Unless you'd like to argue otherwise?"
Mike gave him a weak smile. "I don't think that's going to work this time."
Harvey took deliberate steps over to him. "Mike."
Mike looked at him, eyes wet and sad. "I…I'm sorry. We were having a good time, and it was normal again, and I ruined it now, didn't I? I'm sorry."
Harvey reached out and put his hands on Mike's shoulders, then pulled him into his chest. Mike didn't move for a bit, just stood there. Then Harvey felt his back tense like he was trying not to cry. "It wasn't your fault, Mike," he said softly to the man. Mike moved his hands onto Harvey's chest, like he was going to push him away. Harvey repeated himself, saying the line over and over again, hoping if Mike heard it enough he'd finally believe it.
"Stop. Please, Harvey. Please, stop," Mike was saying, breath hitched from his attempts to hold back his tears.
But Harvey's hands held him firmly to his chest, his voice clear and gentle, the phrase rolling sincerely off his tongue.
Mike's fingers grabbed at Harvey's shirt, the fabric twisting in his hands, and Harvey finally heard him give up. Mike's shoulders fell, and he started crying. It reminded Harvey of that phone call on Wednesday afternoon, when he'd been bewildered by Mike's sobs.
It felt like hours before Mike finally stopped. He looked tired again, so Harvey disentangled himself from his associate and slid a hand around his wrist, leading him over to the bedroom.
Mike followed him, eyes downcast, and fell into the bed. He turned his back to Harvey again, but he sat up and stared at him when Harvey started to leave.
"Harvey," Mike said hesitantly.
Harvey paused by the doorway. "Yeah?"
"You won't…tell anyone…will you?"
He honestly wondered if Mike thought so little of him. "I promise, kid."
Mike smiled sadly. "Does Donna—"
"No," Harvey finished. "She thought you were sick. Hence the soup."
Mike nodded. "Thanks for…everything."
Harvey took a step out the door.
"Harvey?"
"What now?" he said jokingly.
"Umm. Can we go back to work tomorrow?"
Harvey hesitated. He wasn't sure that was such a good idea. He could just imagine Mike being bumped into in the hallway and having a freak out moment.
"Please?" And suddenly Harvey knew he was going to let Mike come in, because he knew that here, Mike wouldn't have anything to keep him from remembering in full detail.
"You're going to stay in my office the entire day. You're not going to go to the bathroom without an escort, you're not going to work on anything unless I tell you to, and you're definitely not going to do any work for Louis."
Mike smiled gratefully. Harvey tried not to think about how sad that smile made him and instead flipped the light switch. He left the door open slightly, like he had that first night.
He collapsed on his couch and ran his hands over his face. Taking care of Mike was proving to be exhausting. This was why he never let himself care about anyone, so that he'd never find himself in this position. But what was he supposed to have done with Mike? Should he have just ignored the pain he'd heard on the other line when his calls had finally been answered? Or should he have just called an ambulance and left Mike there? He knew Mike had no one, other than his ailing grandmother and some pretty terrible "friends".
His phone beeped, and he lunged for it.
Found the bar.—Vanessa.
Harvey started to type a response when he decided to just call. He was pretty sure he heard light snoring from the bedroom, so he wasn't worried about waking Mike.
"Harvey," Vanessa said seriously.
"Tell me you have something."
There was a sigh on the other line. "You're not going to be happy."
"Tell me," he growled.
"Well, you told me the guy bought your associate a beer, so I figured they must have been at a bar. Well, I canvassed the area around Mike's and found the place. They remembered seeing Mike, said he put down at least five beers before he left. There was a guy who bought him the last two rounds, but he paid in cash and no one can give me a description beyond 'He was wearing a fancy suit.'"
Harvey closed his eyes in an attempt to collect his emotions. "So, I take that to mean you haven't found him?"
"Sorry. I can keep looking, but I doubt I'm going to find much. I…I went to his place." There was a brief pregnant silence and he could hear the horror she must have felt. "It looked…bad. I'm sorry, Harvey. I really am. If you find any more information, let me know. I'll do what I can."
"Thanks," he gritted out. Realistically, he knew he shouldn't have expected much, but he'd still allowed himself to hope she'd find the guy.
"And Harvey? It's on the house. I insist. This bastard deserves anything we can give him."
"I'll call you if I find more," he said and hit 'End'. He liked Vanessa, and she didn't deserve any of his misdirected anger. He'd just have to wait for Mike to tell him.
Harvey settled into the couch and tried to get some work done. He'd need to be ahead of schedule if he wanted to keep an eye on Mike.
He just hoped they'd both get enough sleep. After all, tomorrow would be an interesting day.