Hi everyone! So this chapter comes from multiple requests I've had from people to write something based off of this line from TBAH: "Tanner was trying to use you to get to me. And other people will do the same to you in the future."

Pretty sure it's from like chapter 13ish if you're looking for a reference. This takes place sometime before the epilogue of TBAH: Mike is back to living with Harvey, but hasn't officially been adopted yet.

Mike's age: 14 ½

"Hey, Harvey! Guess what?!" Mike shouted, bursting headlong into Harvey's office without bothering to look through the glass walls first. "Grammy and Henry Morris are coming back for Thanksgiving! They just called—" He froze so quickly that he almost tripped over his own feet when he realized that Harvey was in the middle of a meeting with a very important-looking client. "Oh. I mean, um. I'll just be going—sorry," he stammered hastily, backing up towards the door with flushed cheeks. It was almost seven o'clock at night, so he had automatically assumed that Harvey was alone and working on some briefs.

Harvey was giving him an exasperated look from his desk, but it was the client that Mike was more focused on. He had turned around when Mike had come crashing into the office, and he was now scrutinizing Mike with hard, cold eyes. He was a fairly nondescript middle-aged man, well-dressed and clearly wealthy, but something about him instantly made Mike feel uneasy—he just had a calculating look about his face that made Mike think that he was up to no good for some reason. Mike gave a little wave and awkwardly side-stepped his way back out the office door, proud that he had managed not to trip and go sprawling at all during that exchange. He'd had a recent growth spurt and was finding that his large feet and long legs were his own worst enemies nowadays.

"Nice to see you, Mike!" A cheerful voice said right next to his ear and his heart missed a beat, still slightly unnerved from his encounter with Harvey and the client.

"Jesus, Donna," Mike exhaled, staring at his father's secretary who had somehow materialized right by his side in the darkened hallway. "What are you still doing here?" She hadn't been at her desk when he'd come in, and it was past business hours so he'd just assumed that she'd gone home.

Donna laughed at his surprised reaction. "I was just heading out, but then he came and I thought I should stay." Her tone sobered as she looked the glass walls of the office, and Mike didn't need to follow her gaze to know who she was referring to.

"Who is he? A client?" Mike asked, following Donna over to her desk. She began organizing stray papers and cleaning up for the evening and Mike sat in her very comfortable swivel chair and spun himself around.

Donna shook her head, her expression troubled. "The opposite, actually. That's Lukas Hawthorne, and Harvey is suing him."

Mike thought that name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. "Lukas Hawthorne," he repeated slowly, his memory sifting through years and years of information he had read and stored away. "Hang on, I read a newspaper article about him awhile back…he's the guy who started that really popular nightclub in the Lower East Side, right? The article was from September 3rd two years ago."

Donna was staring at him, her eyes wide.

"What? He's that guy, right?" Mike asked, confused.

"Yes," Donna said slowly, still looking astonished. She seemed to shake herself. "I'm sorry; I just forget about your memory sometimes until I actually see you use it."

"Oh," Mike said shyly, fighting to keep a pleased blush from spreading across his face. "Thanks." He cleared his throat. "Why is Hawthorne here, though? And why is Harvey suing him?"

"You can ask him yourself," Donna said, nodding her head towards the office. Mike looked and it seemed like the meeting was over. Both men were standing, and Hawthorne was putting on a long, black jacket that made him look like an undertaker or a mob boss. Mike still didn't know why he found the man so intimidating—all he was was a nightclub owner, not some sort of evil mafia member.

"I'm sorry you didn't get what you came for, Mr. Hawthorne," Harvey was saying as he opened the office door, his tone frosty and overly-polite.

Hawthorne didn't seem bothered that he hadn't gotten what he'd apparently wanted from Harvey. He looked over at Mike as he walked past Donna's desk, his eyes just as cold and calculating as before. He smiled at Harvey, his features oddly snake-like. "Oh, I'm not sorry. This meeting was…enlightening, and I'll get what I want eventually, one way or another."

Then he was gone.

The three of them—Mike, Donna, and Harvey—all remained in silence for a moment while Hawthorne plausibly was in earshot.

"Well, that was incredibly creepy," Mike said solemnly, half-expecting Harvey to flick his ear for bad-talking someone in a professional setting.

But Harvey just nodded, looking thoroughly discomfited himself. "I don't trust him," he said, frowning thoughtfully. "And there was something very off about him in that meeting." Harvey seemed to shake himself before turning to Donna. "What are you still doing here? Don't I pay you enough already? You're not getting any more overtime money out of me."

They all knew he was joking, but Donna didn't smile. "Be careful around this case, Harvey. I don't what Hawthorne's deal is, but I don't like him. And my intuition never fails. Remember when you started dating that French model and I told you all she was after was your money but you—"

"Okay, that's enough of that story," Harvey interjected, looking slightly embarrassed as he glared at Donna while Mike looked on curiously. "Mike and I have to get going, anyway," he continued, hastily keeping the subject away from his failed romance. "It's getting late and we still need to stop for some groceries before we make dinner."

Donna bid them goodnight and they went their separate ways: Donna, to her evening yoga class, and Harvey and Mike to the grocery store that was just about a mile away from the apartment.

"So are you going to tell me who Hawthorne is and why he acted like I murdered his entire family every time he looked at me?" Mike asked as Harvey rummaged through the milks to get the one with the latest expiration date printed on it, a determined sort of look on his face.

Harvey was generally very open about his cases, and he and Mike frequently bounced ideas off of one another in the evenings when Mike got home from class and debate and Harvey finished work. That was why he was so surprised when Harvey just shook his head in the negative.

"I don't want you getting involved in this one," he said firmly, still examining milk dates. "And he looks that way at everyone."

"So what did he do? Why are you suing him?" Mike wheedled. "I'm not getting involved, I'm just curious," he promised, crossing his fingers behind his back.

"I saw that," Harvey said. Mike rolled his eyes—Harvey hadn't even turned away from the refrigerated section he was buried in. "And that too," Harvey said with a smirk, finally choosing a milk and standing up straight. He tapped on the glass door of the refrigerator. "It's reflective, genius."

"Speaking of things that end in '-eflection', let's talk about the fact that you're deflecting my questions," Mike said, raising an eyebrow at Harvey challengingly.

"Hold this, will you?" Harvey said, holding the milk carton in Mike's direction. "I had my hand in the refrigerator for too long and now I can't feel it."

"I don't see why you always have to take the newest milk from the back," Mike sighed. "I'm pretty sure it messes up the grocery store's stocking system, and we could have been home and eating dinner by now." He reached his hand out to take the gallon from Harvey anyway when a sudden idea struck him. "I'll only take it if you tell me about the case," he said, smiling triumphantly at his—well, he didn't know how to mentally refer to Harvey exactly now that they were living together again—his guardian? His father?

Harvey rolled his eyes and passed the carton to Mike, shaking out his frozen fingers. "His name is Lukas Hawthorne, he owns a nightclub, and the surrounding neighborhood wants the club shut down. I'm suing him on their behalf. Pro-bono, because Jessica is requiring all the partners to do one pro-bono case a quarter. End of story."

"Come on, you have to give me more than that!" Mike exclaimed, shoving the milk back into Harvey's arms so that he was forced to either take it or allow it to fall on the floor. "Why do the neighbors want it shut down? And why don't you want me involved? That sounds pretty open-and-shut to me."

Harvey put the milk down on the belt of a check lane and began unloading their other groceries. "I'm only telling you this because I know you won't leave it alone until I do. Just to be clear, this is not me inviting you to help me with this case. I'm just telling you so I don't find you snooping through my files later."

"Okay," Mike said slowly, flashing a polite smile at the weary-looking cashier. He suddenly noticed a young boy and his father one lane over—the boy was maybe about four, and his father was just paying for some groceries. The cashier passed the boy a sticker when he handed the father a receipt, and the boy proudly stuck it on his shirt, puffing his chest out and showing his dad.

"I got a sticker!" The boy declared. "You have to be really good and big to get a sticker!"

The father's gaze softened slightly and he bent down and scooped the boy up with one arm, the groceries in the other. "Not too big," he said.

"Earth to Mike," Harvey said, snapping his fingers right in front of Mike's face.

Mike blinked and quickly turned back to their own groceries, pretending not to have been zoning out. But it was too late, and Harvey had already followed Mike's gaze to the father and son who were now leaving the store.

His gaze softened slightly too, almost like the way the father from the other check lane's had. Mike didn't want to read into it too deeply, but perhaps the yearning look that had probably crossed his face for a moment there was what made Harvey keep talking about the case.

"The nightclub is ruining the neighborhood—it was always a poorer area, but now with the crowd that the nightclub brings, things have taken a real tailspin. The community is worried about their local businesses suffering, and nobody wants to move there anymore because it has a reputation for being seedy at night. Hawthorne's nightclub also apparently has broken a lot of health code violations, and they've been warned numerous times to clean up their act or face shut-down," Harvey explained, swiping his card and signing the card reader as the cashier slowly bagged their stuff, a vacant expression on her face.

"Again, why am I not supposed to know about that?" Mike asked, still confused.

Harvey looked at him for a moment, seeming to be debating with himself. "There was a body found in a dumpster in an alley outside the club last month," he said bluntly after a moment. The cashier looked up, briefly interested, and Mike felt his eyebrows shoot up. That explained why Harvey was wary to let him around this case—he very rarely dealt with criminal law, preferring to stick with corporate law since his days at the DA's office.

"Hawthorne claims to know nothing about it, but the community is scared, and I don't trust him. I don't know what's going on there, but it's probably best for everyone if the club gets shut down. Anyway, Hawthorne came to me today to ask me not to sue him—which is stupid, because I already set the deposition date and he knows I'm serious about it. I'm sure he had some other motive for coming, but I don't know what yet."

"Donna's right, Harvey," Mike said seriously. "If this guy is somehow involved in a murder, you need to be careful. He probably has great motivation to stop this trial from happening, and it sounds like he has the money and resources to make your life hell if you don't back off."

"And this is why I didn't want to tell you," Harvey sighed, passing a brown paper bag to Mike and taking the other one himself. "I'm not backing down and I'll be fine. Let's talk about something else—you mentioned that your grandmother is coming up for Thanksgiving?"

"Not much to talk about," Mike said distractedly, still worrying about the Hawthorne case. "Grammy called and said that she and Henry were coming for Thanksgiving. Do you think that Hawthorne—"

"We're not talking about Hawthorne anymore," Harvey said firmly. "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about."

"Fine, then," Mike said grumpily. "If we can't talk about Hawthorne, then let's talk about your failed attempts at wooing a French model."

Harvey winced. "That's a low blow, kid," he said.

But he casually rested a hand on Mike's shoulder as they left the store, and if Mike thought about it, it almost reminded him of the little boy and his father from the check lane next to theirs. He told himself not to think about it too deeply, but the thought remained there, warming him from the inside out. Did people see the same thing when they looked at Harvey and Mike together? Did they assume that they were father and son the way he'd assumed about the duo next to them was?

He had no idea at the time, but this very same question would soon prove to be very dangerous.

And as they walked through the parking lot, joking about dating models, both of them completely missed the pair of eyes following them and watching their every move.

At first, Mike thought it was just a coincidence.

It just seemed so ridiculous, like something that would happen in a movie or a crime show.

And yet, he was pretty certain that the black car was following him; that it had been following him around for a good week or so now.

He hadn't noticed it at first, but he'd had to stop his bike on the way to school Tuesday morning when his water bottle fell out of its holder in his backpack and into the street, and the car had been behind him then. It had looked vaguely familiar on Thursday when he'd pulled up in front of Pearson Hardman, and now as it followed him on his bike ride back to the apartment Friday evening, he definitely recognized it.

He could feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck, his stomach churning and his hands becoming clammy as the realization sunk in—someone was really following him. Unless he was being completely paranoid and it was all just a coincidence, but no—he risked craning his neck around to casually glance at the car and he instantly recognized that license plate. Perhaps whoever was stalking him thought they were being subtle, but they'd clearly never followed someone with an eidetic memory before.

His hands were sweaty as he gripped the handlebars of his bike and debated what to do—should he avoid going back to the apartment? It was almost eleven o'clock at night and he was on his way home from watching movies at Rachel's with Rachel and Harold. He really had no place to go to this time of night, but he knew he shouldn't lead whoever was following him right back to his home—that was asking for trouble. But then again, if they had really been following him for several days now, they undoubtedly already knew where he lived.

And maybe they'd been waiting for the ideal time to stop merely following him and actually do something to him. He didn't know what, exactly, but he suspected it wouldn't be anything good. He forced himself to pedal faster, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was alone late at night on a completely deserted road with someone following him.

His heart was beating very rapidly as he turned the corner to the block that the apartment was on, and he knew that it was more from genuine fear than exertion. He no longer cared about luring whoever was following him away from the apartment—he just wanted to be at home right now, safe in Harvey's presence. Harvey would know what to do in this situation; he always did. He knew that he was fifteen and was probably too old to be this scared, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something very bad was going to happen if he didn't make it to the apartment as fast as possible.

He was so on edge that he almost crashed his bike when his phone rang in his jacket pocket, startling him so badly that he was pretty sure he now knew what a heart attack felt like. He pulled his phone out, his fingers shaking with relief when he saw that it was Harvey calling him. Earlier that evening, he'd had a call from an unknown number with nobody on the other line, and he'd just assumed that it was a missed call. But now…plots of horror movies flashed through his head, and he quickly accepted the call, eager to hear his guardian-father-whatever's voice.

"Mike?" Was the tense greeting he received.

"Hi, Harvey," he said, trying to keep the fear from his voice. He could see the apartment now, and the black car was idling at the other end of the block, clearly not bold enough to follow him right up to his front door.

"Where are you?" Harvey asked, sounding relieved that Mike had answered.

"I'm just pulling up in front of the apartment," Mike said. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Just…just come straight up," Harvey commanded, still sounding off.

"Okay, I'll be right there," Mike said, hanging up so that he could quickly lock up his bike. He headed up the front walk and the security guard let him in automatically. Mike flashed him a tense smile and used his key for the private elevator straight into the apartment.

When he stepped into the living room, he was unprepared for what a disheveled mess Harvey was. He didn't think he'd ever seen his guardian this agitated, and it almost made him forget his previous fear for a moment.

"Harvey?" He said tentatively, dropping his bag by the couch.

Harvey whirled around, sagging with relief when he saw that it was Mike. He gaped at Mike for a second, wordless and overwhelmed. His hair was askew as though he'd been continually running his hands through it recently, and he looked exhausted.

"Mike," Harvey said, flashing a weak smile in his direction. "How was your night?"

"What's wrong with you?" Mike asked, ignoring Harvey's attempt at small talk. Something was wrong with Harvey, and he wasn't about to let it go.

"Nothing, nothing…just a long day at the office," Harvey said, the same strained smile flashing across tight features. "The Hawthorne case again," he said, and there was something odd in the way that Harvey's mouth twisted when he said this.

They hadn't talked about Lukas Hawthorne and his nightclub since the grocery store last week but now a sudden, terrible thought occurred to Mike. "The Hawthorne case wouldn't have anything to do with why a man in a black car has been following me around for the past week, would it?"

Harvey swore loudly. "Someone's been following you? Christ, Mike, you should have said something." He exhaled shakily, and Mike realized that Harvey was…scared. He'd never seen Harvey frightened before and it made his own stomach churn.

"I only just figured it out," Mike said quietly, sitting down on the couch, his legs oddly numb. "What's going on, Harvey? I think I deserve to know."

Harvey sat as well, his face pale. "I think I understand what Hawthorne meant when he said the meeting was enlightening and that he'd get what he wanted sooner or later…Mike, I think he means to use you to get me to stop with the case."

Harvey pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it to Mike. "I had a lot of strange phone calls today. Someone would call and then when I'd answer, there wouldn't be anyone on the other line. And this was pushed under our door when I got home from the office a little bit ago," he said.

Mike unfolded the paper and felt his blood run cold as he read what was typed on the paper in bold, plain letters. "If the nightclub goes, so does your son."

"Harvey," he said quietly. "This is bad, isn't it?"

Harvey looked conflicted about how honest he should be with Mike. "Yes, it is bad. Clearly Hawthorne is hiding something big and he feels like he doesn't have anything to lose by threatening us. But you are not to worry about any of this, understood?" He said sternly. "I'm dropping the case."

"What?!" Mike exclaimed. "But Harvey, you can't! Someone died and that whole neighborhood is in danger if this continues. I have classmates that live there."

"Mike, I'm not going to put you in danger. I'll turn the information over to the police, and they can look into it safely," Harvey said rationally.

"And then when the police investigate, Hawthorne is going to know exactly who put them on his tail, and he's just going to come and hurt me or kidnap me or…do whatever he's planning on doing anyway," Mike argued, trying to keep his voice steady. This all felt unreal to him, like he was just having a nightmare that he'd somehow woken up in a Law & Order episode. "I think you need to keep your head down and just continue what you're doing to investigate the case yourself."

"And I think that I'm the one who makes the decisions around here, and I say that we're going to get rid of this case. It's not worth it, Mike. What am I supposed to tell your grandmother when they do something to you? 'Oh, sorry, they warned me what would happen if I kept pursuing the matter, but I just kept on anyway. Terribly sorry, Edith. Thanks for entrusting me with your grandson's life.'"

"Oh, so all you're worried about now is what to tell Grammy if someone kills me? Thanks, Harvey," Mike snapped. He knew it was a low blow and that that wasn't what Harvey meant, but fear was making his nerves short.

Harvey looked hurt but brushed it off, focusing intently on Mike, his gaze slightly unnerving. "You are not allowed to go anywhere on your own until this dies down, understood? I'm going to call Ray in the morning and get him to recommend me a driver for you. I don't want you biking for the next week or two until I know that Hawthorne isn't having someone follow you anymore."

Mike wanted to groan that this was unnecessary and overly dramatic, but then he remembered how powerless he'd felt pedaling down that empty street with someone at his heels, and he just nodded quietly.

"Hey, it's going to be fine, okay? These are all just precautions. Nothing will happen to you," Harvey said, perhaps seeing how bad Mike was at hiding his fear. "I already warned the security guard that someone had gotten into the building to leave this, and they know to be on guard from now on. And there's no way that anyone could get in from the balcony unless they were Spiderman. I know Hawthorne has a lot of money at his disposal, but not even he has a Spiderman to call up to do some kidnapping."

Mike smiled weakly at that, feeling slightly better.

That didn't stop him from sleeping with his bedroom door cracked open just in case, however.

"Mike, this is George. He's going to be driving you around for the time being," Harvey said, introducing Mike to Ray's friend, a kindly-looking middle-aged man with an impressive beard.

"Hi, George," Mike said, still not entirely thrilled with the idea of having a driver. Everybody at school was going to make so much fun of him if they saw him being professionally driven to school, and he had enough of that already.

"Just remember," Harvey said firmly. It was Monday morning, and he was on his way down to the precinct to talk to a detective there about Hawthorne, and then he was going to give up the case. He and Mike had argued about it all weekend, but Harvey had held firm. "You're not to go anywhere alone."

"That's okay," Mike said. "I'll just go alone. It's fine, really." It wasn't okay; not really, but he wasn't going to make Rachel drive him all the way home when she was sick. They'd just finished up with debate, and Rachel had thrown up in the bathroom. She hadn't been feeling well all day and now it seemed that she was coming down with something.

Mike had promised George that he'd just get a ride home with Rachel after debate—there was no point in George making the extra trip—it had been four days since Harvey had gone to the police, and nothing had happened, so Mike assumed all was well. Not to mention, he lived in the exact opposite direction of Rachel, and she looked terrible. He wasn't going to make her go out of her way to drive him home. He'd just start walking, and if anything suspicious came up…well, he had his phone on him, and this time of afternoon there were always people out and about in the street. He'd be fine.

Or so he hoped, anyway. He told himself not to be nervous as he bid Rachel farewell and told her to feel better. Stepping out into the late afternoon sun felt like something incredibly dangerous, and he knew Harvey would be furious if he heard that Mike was disobeying him. But Harvey would never have to know—Mike would walk home and then if Harvey asked, he'd say Rachel drove him home. End of the story.

As he walked down the street, he reminded himself that he'd done this walk hundreds of times before and that there was nothing to be afraid of. His nerves were still wound tighter than a rubber-band ball, however, and he reacted instinctively when George's familiar car pulled up in front of him. Without stopping to wonder how George had known that he needed a ride, he opened the back door and slid inside.

As soon as he closed the door behind himself, he knew that something was wrong. His instincts screamed at him that he'd just made a disastrous mistake, and the click of the door lock only confirmed this. When the driver turned around and revealed a face that was distinctly not George's he wasn't even surprised.

That didn't stop him from being terrified, however. He tugged at the door handle to no end, and the car took off, removing any chance he had of escaping the same way he'd come in. His heart was pounding with panic and he couldn't feel his limbs, oddly enough. Nothing felt real, but he knew that this wasn't a nightmare; that it was actually happening.

There was someone else in the car besides the unfamiliar driver, a huge, hulking man who looked as though he could snap Mike's neck in two with his pinky finger if he wanted to. Mike opened his mouth to scream for help, but then the man covered his face with a sweet-smelling white cloth and the world faded to blackness.

His last thought was that Harvey was going to murder him when he found out that Mike had gotten himself kidnapped.

To be continued...