Life in Alphabet
Harvey Specter & Mike Ross (AU)
Disclaimer: Suits characters don't belong to me, they're property of their creators. I use them to tell crazy stories.
G for Guilt
Funny how guilt works. It deceives us, deludes us, lies to us unscrupulously, whispers poison in our ears, enchants us with images of what never was, but that it is convenient for it to make us believe that happened.
Guilt is torture fast and slow, simultaneously; it shows us universes of what could have been, blaming us for what it is, the hell in which we are sunk in the here and now. Mike's hell was an uncomfortable plastic chair, blood-soaked clothing that wasn't his, uncertainty about the whereabouts of his beloved mentor, fear of being called upon to face the raw and painful truth, and the fervent desire to return, return to the past and stop that car, at any cost.
The minority partner wondered too many "What if…?"; what would have happened if Harvey hadn't found him lying in his office chair overcome by sleep, what would have happened if his mentor hadn't answered the call on the street, what would have happened if Mike hadn't walked away from him to buy himself a stupid lunch. Then, the young man decided unilaterally that the accident was his fault: he should have gone to sleep in his apartment so that the older one did not feel obliged to help him wake up, he should have kept him company while he answered the phone, be by his side, just like Harvey always did, and to push him out of the fatal reach of the moving car, he must have called emergency services first and risked keeping him conscious by whatever means at hand. Maybe he shouldn't have moved him because the risk of paralysis increased exponentially with movement.
Mike was sure that Harvey was dead. In the ambulance his heart stopped twice, which in itself already meant that he would not be the same again if he survived, neither he nor his heart, and as no doctor had come out to give him any information about the condition of his mentor Mike he supposed that he had succumbed to the seriousness of his injuries and no one deigned to tell him who clearly seemed to be his son, because this was a bitter drink capable of depressing the strongest of men, even men of sciences.
Then Mike stood frozen in the chairs in the emergency room, his pants and shirt smeared with asphalt dust and blood, undaunted and, at the same time, personifying horror in his pale features, in his hasty features. Those who entered the room saw a trembling soul, with cold-clad lips, with carmine betraying death without a single word.
Yes, in Mike's mind the idea appeared that Harvey died, he no longer existed, he was not on this plane of existence, and then every other thought disappeared; his body became a shell, a victim of shock, of the immeasurable pain caused by the loss. How did you allow yourself to lose someone like that? In a brief oversight, the person he admired most, who had given him a new opportunity, an alternative path, with whom he had begun to grow up, was taken painfully from him, with terrible cruelty. There was an immeasurable emptiness, a vulnerability from which he could no longer escape, a true orphan. Harvey was his family by choice.
It was that shell of a person that Donna found, alighting with the impression of the call that declared: Donna Paulsen, you are an emergency contact for Harvey Specter, right? Mr. Specter had an accident. If you can, come to the New York Memorial as soon as possible. She did not give credit when they told him that a car had hit his boss: he was still alive, according to the operator, but in critical condition; a machine and an irresponsible man had been enough to extinguish a bright, vibrant, and powerful life.
Donna found Mike turned into a broken creature, with tears streaming down his cheeks, his clothes gnawed and burning with other people's blood.
"Mike, darling… what happened?", the secretary asked, love and pain blended perfectly in her tone of voice. She got no response; she wasn't expecting it either. At the recognition of her voice, Mike began to tremble fearfully, alarming the newcomer, because then the bubble of the nightmare in which only he and Harvey were trapped burst; it expanded to embrace them all with what it meant to lose the nominal partner.
The associate began to cry inconsolably, placing his face in his hands; he felt that the sadness did not fit in his chest and escaped from his lips. People in the waiting room recognized the scandalous implosion of a collapsing world alongside a life that is about to die out. Mike thought of his parents and cars and irresponsible drivers and the bad luck of losing those he loved to hot metal traveling thousands of miles. Misery threatened to extinguish his inner light completely, because only a man as miserable as he lost three parents in the same abrupt and brutal way.
Donna hugged him, releasing her own tears, accepting her own misery. Seeing the blood of his boss staining the suit of that young man, she knew that nothing would return to the innocence of what it was, to the story of two men whose lives crossed by chance and intertwined thanks to an inviolable, sacred loyalty, and that they found in that friendship a powerful engine to reach the top of the peaks. It's over, and it's over for everyone: the vacuum that Harvey would leave in the firm would be able to absorb them like a black hole and push them to their respective limits. There was no way that Mike would ever recover from that loss, as similar as his parents' at such a young age, so painfully familiar and close.
"It'll be okay, Mike. Harvey is very strong", Donna tried to comfort him, stroking him behind the nape of his neck and holding one of his shoulders. According to the operator, it was unlikely that he would be okay, but Donna was confident that Harvey would be unable to leave such a boy to his own devices.
"No, Donna, he isn't", the puppy sobbed, not even looking at her, fighting the suffocation of his chest.
"Harvey will get out of this. You know him; it's… indestructible", the woman mentioned, without any confidence, but trying to give him the last hours, perhaps the last minutes, of hope. She herself was shedding uncontrolled tears because she recognized the complacent lie.
"Before losing consciousness, he told me I was better… he's wrong… I would be better… if he was here. Donna, I can't… I can't do this". The young man buried his eyes in his hands in despair, hiding himself from the world. He imagined a coffin, flowers, the burgundy rosary on the senior partner's gray suit, because Mike wouldn't let them bury him in black; he saw an empty office, a chair without its occupant, a car without its skillful and overbearing driver.
"Mike… Don't give up; don't write it off so soon. Harvey will fight, I know, until the last second… ", she replied, knowing in advance that whatever courage she might instill in the child would vanish as soon as she saw the medics appear through the emergency doors.
"What ... what am I going to do, Donna?" If Harvey dies… ", Mike reasoned, his voice cracking and still shaking from head to toe.
She did not respond, because she could not think of an action plan, an alternative, a scenario in which death did not equal destruction. Considering the death of her boss is so painful that the mere thought suffocates her. She only knows that if that happens, she will have to be very strong, because there is no way that Harvey's not-adopted-son-but-yes will be, nor that Jessica will be, and that perhaps the one who can withstand the storm with less damage is Rachel and it is she who will help her solve the mass of chaos and paperwork and tombstones.
"I should… I should have seen the car, Donna", the younger muttered, still hunched over himself, a creature full of anxiety.
Donna stopped him in his tracks: "Mike, look at me". She raised his sorrowful face, finding in those eyes a lost child, invaded by the fear of loneliness, wounded by the affection never confessed and, even more worryingly, full of guilt.
"Mike, none of this is your fault. You weren't driving high. You can't keep those feelings for yourself", Donna begged, knowing in advance that guilt is corrosive, capable of seeping through any slit of thought, excruciating, and boiling hot inside her gut. Guilt has a life of its own.
"He… found me on the couch… and said… said I needed a coffee and a bagel… God, why did I accept?", Mike tormented himself once more.
"Listen to me: it was a mistake, but from someone else, Mike. Not yours. We're going to face this together and even if Harvey…", she paused, steadying herself to verbalize one of her worst fears, "even if Harvey isn't with you, you won't give up. I'm not going to let you give up. You are his legacy".
The associate hardly hears her. He imagines himself far from the pain, from suffering, from anticipated loss. After a few minutes of shared silent crying, Donna found a way to distract him. There was a lot of blood and it was not helping Mike's mental health. Maybe she should write to Rachel and ask her to bring the young associate some clothes.
"I can't move from here, not until they tell us how he is ...".
"Mike, please. At least... splash some water on your face".
"Donna, I don't want to see myself in the mirror. I must wait here. I need to know how Harvey is", the young man insisted again.
"So go get some coffee. Please".
Yes, coffee. Mike stands up like an automaton.
"I... I begged God night after night after the accident to give me back my parents, no matter the cost. I never thought I would have to… ask for the same thing, again. Donna...", it was the last thing Mike said, before heading off to the bathroom.
In a low voice, Donna begged as well.
Thanks for reading and leaving comments in the last chapters. I will waiting your feedback and love this time too!