Life in alphabet


Harvey Specter & Mike Ross (AU)

Summary: Some glimpses of the lives of Harvey Specter and his protégé, Michael Ross, after a tragic accident tests each other's loyalty, recounted from the alphabet. A scene, a letter, an instant; life is an unordered alphabet. Sometimes it's not about what the mentor teaches the protégé, but what the protégé does for his mentor. [AU since season three] [Bromance, not slash] Hurt!Harvey and Protective!Mike for a change.

Author's note: Actually, the characters are a pretext for writing and the kind of relationship between Harvey Specter and Mike Ross portrayed in the series is perfect for telling this story that, as you will see, is a divergence from the plot that we were presented in the series over nine seasons, although I will try to be as faithful as possible to its essence. I'm interested in recovering the human aspect of the series. In this vignette, Harvey is 48 years old and Mike 32 (although they never explicitly say his age on the series, I wanted to portray him a little older to emphasize the paternal aspect of their relationship). Thanks to Vergil for his support as editor of this story; I promise one day to make him a very rich man (?). I'm not an English native speaker, so… sorry for the grammar.

Disclaimer: Suits characters don't belong to me, they're the property of their creators. I use them to tell the stories my crazy little head contends.


D for Drinking [Part One]

"I shouldn't have drunk that much", Harvey reproached loudly trying to keep his diction clear, without success.

Mike laughed lightly, trying to keep his way and push the chair down the less damaged part of the sidewalk to avoid sending his boss to the ground. He was not doing it very well as he saw the older man's shoulders staggering with the cracks of the asphalt and the strength of his muscles clinging to the arm supports.

"Come on, Harvey, don't be bitter. We were celebrating something big: you should have drunk more; you should have drunk until you lost consciousness", Mike answered.

"And exempt yourself from your first day of work tomorrow? Don't even think about it. You're my most expensive investment, kid, I want to start collecting my winnings".

By the time they got to the corner, Ray was already waiting for them.

"Funny night, uh?", he asked both, while opening the limo door for them.

"More than funny, but the funniest part comes now", Harvey replied, and although Mike tried not to hear the tone of bitterness in that statement, he couldn't help it. The nominal partner made several attempts to move from the wheelchair to the car but failed because of lack of strength in his left arm and the overwhelming effects of alcohol. He couldn't even separate the bottom of his body from the seat.

"I can't", he sentenced after the fourth attempt to get up. Mike and Ray knew that the transferring process wasn't something they should look at, at least not if they wanted to avoid a killer look. They turned to see Harvey only because of the frustrated confession.

"It doesn't matter", replied the newly named junior partner. It was the most natural thing; he had done it in the best and worst days of Harvey after the accident, and for him it was nothing to be bothered or ashamed by, nor even under the scrutiny of curious passers-by. Harvey didn't think the same.

Mike stood in front of his mentor's wheelchair and crouched down to his height.

"You know what to do, Harvey. Come on, hands on my shoulders. Ray, can you help me with the chair?".

"Sure thing, Mike". The driver positioned himself behind the expensive wheelchair to prevent it from betraying them and making a false move.

"I'm so fuckin' drunk. I hate you, rookie".

"I know, so am I, but I'm no longer a rookie. Junior partner, remember?"

"Unfortunately, I remember, and you don't know how sorry I am. I think I'll call Jessica..."

Harvey tried to raise his arms, but they didn't answer him the way he wanted. Embarrassed, that was the word he was looking for.

"Old man, you've never been so proud of anything in your life like me being New York's youngest junior partner".

The kid raised his boss's arms and placed them on his shoulders, while wielding him by the back to lift him from the chair to the leather seat. Harvey tried to entwine his hands to give some support to his pupil even though he felt his fingers clenched from the cold —where the hell did he leave his gloves?—. Undoubtedly it was difficult because of the difference in weights —Harvey lost muscle mass in his legs in the last three years, but he won it in his chest and arms, and was still taller than his protégé— and because Mike was just as intoxicated as him and barely coordinated his movements; however, translating moves required ability and not force and, for Harvey, the younger one was able to have and exploit both. Mike left him sitting well, accommodated his suit and coat lapels, and helped him insert his motionless legs into the interior of the car.

"Ready, Batman. Time for retreat".

Harvey laughed because, honestly, what did he have left? A warm feeling overwhelmed him when he heard the habitual nickname: he was no longer a superhero and Mike still managed to make him feel like one with his unconditional recognition and admiration; his fierce, almost devoted loyalty; his respect and even with his constant challenges; his willingness to learn and, at the same time, to show him how wrong he can be, and even with his superfluous pop culture commentaries. Harvey didn't want to admit it, but those comments helped him to feel, even for a moment, that nothing changes, even though everything changes, and to realize that, although some things between them were different from the accident—who protects who, who cares for whom, who watches who— Mike still considered him his mentor; someone worthy, able to teach and guide you not only through your career, but in your personal life.

"Thank you, Mike", Harvey he said, and felt a lump form in his throat as he saw Mike secure his seat belt. It must have been the winter air what made his throat feel funny. Yes, it was probably that.

Mike went up to the other side of the automobile as Harvey put his head against the backing; the world was spinning, and he was at risk from falling because of dizziness. Ray started the car, not before giving them a funny look through the rearview mirror.

"Do you want to go somewhere to keep celebrating?", Ray asked.

"No, we're going home", Mike replied, and they both knew he was referring to Harvey's apartment.

"Are you serious? No beautiful, fleeting woman to share this victory with?"

"I told the kid to go with the barwoman who kept looking at him, but he insisted on going with me to the apartment because he's a sense and sensibility guy who thinks this day is just to celebrate with his master about his recent admission to the Jedi council", said the eldest man while rolling his eyes.

"Wait a minute, are you serious, Harvey? Will you finally stop calling me padawan and I'll be able to sit at the table and go to the partner's kitchen where they have those chocolate-covered bars and those Irish cream capsules?"

"Yes, of course, but if you touch my blueberries, I'll go through you with my light sword", Harvey replied with a smile on his lips.

"Maybe it's for the best you to go with him", the driver said, "so you'll make sure he gets to his bed and not the one of that women at the golf club".

"What can I tell you, Ray? That's who I am: I take care of my elders", Mike said without malice. However, Harvey felt the comment drilled deep into his mind, evoking memories he preferred to encapsulate and not revive every time he looked in the mirror. Oh, because he is the best to deceive himself; in fact, besides Donna, Harvey is sure he is the only living being who can deceive himself. Even if he tried, the images are there: Mike Ross's blue eyes, colored red, retaining the tears and his face twisted in panic, crying out for help, while he lays on the asphalt, dying from a burst lung and artery, and tells his pupil that everything is going to be fine, that he will be the best lawyer in New York, that it doesn't matter that he will not be there to scold him and remove get him out of the mud; Donna's voice on the edge of his hospital bed, when she thinks he has lost consciousness and does not listen to her, her soft touches and caresses in his hand and forehead; the doctor's words about not being able to stand up again to kick other dumb lawyers' asses, that there will be headaches, memory loss and tremors and weakness in the left hand because the nerves are irreparably damaged; Rachel's cries, full of pain and frustration, saying vociferously that he can't give up because that will destroy Mike, and she won't let that be the cause of the decline of a future legal genius, and because he's also taught her so much in such a short time that she's learned to appreciate him in his arrogance, and finally, his associate's resolve not to let him sink into depression, telling him that he promises to be his legs, his left hand and his memory —of that one he has to give away— and whatever it takes as long as he keeps closing deals and showing the world who is the best conciliator in New York. He also remembers the sacrifices —how to forget it if it's one of his earrings, which he can't ignore every day when he sees Mike come to the office?— Mike doesn't admit it, he doesn't like to talk about it, and being honest Harvey doesn't like it either, but it is long clear that the kid has set aside his dream of becoming a lawyer to help the ordinary citizen rather than the big American corporations, in order to stay in Pearson Specter Litt and help him continue to be a nominal partner not only functional, but who exceeds any expectation.

Mike sensed the change in Harvey's expression from relaxed and drowsy to tense and melancholy, with his pupils fixed in the window, and decided to confront him immediately, fearing that it would be some discomfort in health.

"What's the matter, Harvey? Do you feel pain?".

"I'm fine, Mike".

"I don't believe you. What's going on? Is something hurting you? It's your legs, isn't it?".

"I'm telling you that I'm fine"

"Did you bring your pills with you? I don't think it's convenient for you to take them now, but…"

"Mike...".

"How long do you think we should wait, Ray?".

"Mike, stop it!". Harvey didn't notice that he yelled until he saw the slightly wounded expression on his protégé's face and the discomfort in Ray's. Harvey regretted it right away: it was really fucked to ruin the party just because the alcohol made it nostalgic. It was unfair. Really unfair.

"I'm sorry, Mike, I... I think I'm a little tired, that's all", Harvey replied, removing the gray scarf from his neck.

"It's okay".

It wasn't fair to Jessica, Scottie, or Louis.

It wasn't fair to Ray, or Rachel, not Donna, much less Mike.

It wasn't fair to him, who had had the perfect life before all that. The curious thing was, however, that he still feels fortunate and, although he did not recognize it often, he was grateful that he had not died. At some point in that tragic fiasco he was not happy, and he came to reproach Mike for pushing him to hold on to live, even if he was motionless from the middle of the body down, but now he can be honest with himself and say he was lucky he didn't die, because it would have left behind a shattered Donna, a Mike Ross without his last name on the door, just as his talent and intellect indicated that would happen, a Rachel without her partner society at the firm where she worked her whole life, and without knowing the little ones that those two birds would end up raising. There was still much to see, hear, do, at least from the relative comfort of his two wheels, and despite the pain that would accompany him for life.

"Mike", Harvey cleared his throat.

"Yeah?".

"Thank you".

"What?", the new junior partner asked without hiding his surprise. Was Harvey having a stroke or something?

"I said: 'Thank you'", Specter repeated, without regret, because he really felt it and it overcame any attempt at stoicism.

"I mean, yes, I heard you, but why?".

Harvey sighed because that's what he hated about alcohol: it loosened his tongue, made him friendly with strangers, seductive with women, and even somewhat funny with friends; connected him to that emotional part, the one on the weak side of human nature.

"For pretending to talk to Ray in the rainy mornings so he can come by you early because you don't want to get wet on the bike, but I know you do it to help me get out of bed because you know the humidity gets my legs to kill me; for accompanying me to most meetings with clients and other lawyers, no matter that in the discussion they use it against you and want to put you in the face that you will never be more than Harvey Specter's colleague; for reading the reports aloud, arguing that it helps you concentrate, when we both know you do it because reading the documents causes me an unbearable migraine; for remembering what I cannot remember, there, just when I need to have it at hand; for helping me as much as Donna to being me and not to show weakness to others even when you know that I feel it; for having fulfilled for years your promise to be my legs, my left arm and my memory. I'm very proud of you, Mike, and the kind of person you are and the kind of lawyer you've become", Harvey said, still looking him in the eye.

Mike couldn't stop from being snitfully watered down.

Harvey had to carve to continue.

"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry to be a lousy mentor. I'm sorry our roles are now reversed, and you had to be the one to protect and take care of me, when it's my duty to do so".

"No, Harvey...".

"Please, just let me finish".

"I know it wasn't in your plans. I know it's not what I expected from my life, and certainly not what I wanted for yours, but I also know that I can't send you away or take you away from me; I tried and failed. I don't want to do it again. I just want you to know that you're always free to go and look for the best for you and Rachel, in the moment that you decide it, and I promise it'll be fine. I know you've had a goal and a dream for a lot of your life, and I'd hate myself for being an obstacle to you getting it".

"Harvey...".

"Mike, you don't have to say anything".

"But I want to. I'm not here because you need me, but because I want to be, Harvey. I've learned a lot from you all these years, and one of the things I've learned is that our aspirations and goals can change from time to time because we're sharks and we're constantly moving forward and changing. You gave me my dream, my family, and the opportunity to meet the woman I love; you gave me that second option when no one else gave a penny for me. I don't need to chase anything different to be happy. Besides, you're not a lousy mentor; you're strict, not too funny, a tyrant without compassion and you'll never let me eat your blueberries, but you're excellent. Better than Gandalf".

Mike saw the tears in those brown eyes; not even one slipped. Harvey smiled the Specter's smile while patting his protégé on the knee. Afterwards, he relaxed his shoulders, recharged his back and enjoyed the trip.


The second time Mike helped him move, this time from the limousine to the wheelchair, was more complicated because the effects of whiskey were accentuated and, after the lapse of melancholy sincerity, they were again dominated by the uncontrollable laughs and the awkwardness typical of the early stages of drunkenness.

"You should have left with the beautiful blonde and save yourself from dealing with me", was the comment the junior partner received when he opened his mentor's car door.

"Yes, I would certainly have if I wasn't married to your sexy third-year associate", Mike said. Then he went to pull the chair out of the trunk, put it in position and put the brakes on. It was clear that on that second occasion Harvey was not going to be able to help him a bit, so the kid was forced to regain some space location and coordination. They were not going to finish both on the asphalt. He placed his boss's legs out of the car for a better foothold and put his arms over his shoulders.

"Do I have a sensual associate and had not been informed?".

"She's much younger than you; she could be your daughter".

"Liar; unless I was a father very prematurely, like eighteen years old. How old is Rachel?".

"I don't know, thirty-two, maybe".

"Did you marry a woman you don't know her age? You know what? Forget what I said: I'm not proud of you, you're not my son. I'll say you're adopted".

"And that... is... funny... because... in fact... I'm not your son", Mike said as he was pushing and trying to lift his mentor. He managed to move him and make him rotate, not without a huge effort, and leaving Harvey sitting not in the best way possible. Almost by custom he accommodated the coat and lapels of the three piece suit: on more than one occasion he had to translate Harvey before a meeting, deposition or trial and the older lawyer always insisted that he did not want to be seen in public with the suit unfit. Never.

"I can't have them anymore, kids I mean, but you know you are, in everything but blood and genetics. I think others suspect it because you're not that attractive".

The junior partner couldn't help but be moved by the admission so casually mentioned, which Harvey would never have shared if he were sober.

"If you say that is because you're more drunk than I thought", Mike told him as he squatted and lowered the wheelchair's foot breaks, and then helped Harvey in the task of putting his legs on them in view that his mentor was completely prevented from performing some coordinated movement.

"I am. It's your fault. It's still true".

"I'm more attractive than you, old man".

"Don't call me old".

"Then my old man, dear old man".

"Enough or I'll take you out of the will".

They both said good night to Ray, thanking him for being willing to pick them up late at night in an elegant bar, which was still of doom, and climbed up the elevator.

In Harvey's room, Mike lit the lamp, removed the mattress and brought the wheelchair closer to bed. He took off his boss's raincoat, jacket and tie, and repeated the transfer procedure, though this time, taking advantage of the softness of Harvey Specter's imperial bed, he dropped the paraplegic man without delicacy.

"Thank you for considering me and treating me like a sack of potatoes", the senior partner suggested irritably.

"A sack of potatoes doesn't complain", Mike replied. He accommodated Harvey's shoulders and head so that they were resting on the pillows and moved his legs to lay him along the bed. He crouched down to untie the needles and take off his friend's shoes. "Plus, you're a very rich potato bag with an excellent mattress".

"If that's how you treat Rachel, you'll be divorced before you become a senior partner".

"You're not here to know, but she likes my rudeness".

"Too much information".

"You got her into this".

Mike went to one of the closets, pulled out another blanket and threw it at his mentor with little ceremony. As he approached enough with the intention of turning off the nighttable lamp, the older man took him from the tie and forced him to lean slightly over him.

"Mike, congratulations. You officially sold your soul to Jessica and me".

"Thank you, Harvey. I wouldn't have made it without you. Now sleep because your drunk self is scaring me a little bit".

"Close the door, and don't touch the bar".

"Not promising anything".

Mike wasn't sleepy. He didn't used to sleep so soon after drinking, so he turned on the TV and among the pile of cheap and infomercial television found Men of Honor. However, food and drink, celebration, emotions and efforts to move Harvey from one side to side made a dent of his strength, and before arriving at the trial scene he had already lost consciousness on the couch.


TBC. Comments are welcome as much as grammar observations. Thank you so much for reading. Keep stunned for more!