"Mr. Sorkin?"
"Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin, you are five minutes late. Is there a reason I should let you in?"
And then it happened. Instead of blushing or stammering or pompous condescendence, Donna watched the disheveled young man straighten slightly. The wickedly contagious grin on the young man's face cracked even Donna's best poker face (though she would swear under oath that only one corner of her mouth barely twitched). And those eyes. That gleam was absolutely Harveyesque.
Rick Sorkin then considered her with mock gravity. "Donna," (and how did he say her name like he knew her personally?), "Harvey has been interviewing the douches I put up with for the last few years. He desperately needs a hug. And maybe a glass of scotch."
Then the kid took a step back and met her gaze. In silence, the two sized each other up, considering. Donna heard Harvey's footsteps approach from the room behind Rick and she saw Rick tense briefly. A blink later, the kid was composed again, and regarding her with one eyebrow raised in question. In answer, Donna leaned around him and gave Harvey an overly theatrical wink. When she turned back, Rick stuck his hand out and said, "Pleasure meeting you, Donna."
Donna shook the intriguing young man's hand.
Then Rick Sorkin took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned around, his grin replaced with an expression much more vulnerable and sincere.
"Hello, Harvey."
As Donna watched, transfixed, Harvey's jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and his hand went to the door frame for support. For several heartbeats, the two men stared at each other in silence. When Harvey finally spoke, just one word, his voice cracked in half-whispered reverence.
"Mike."
10 minutes earlier…
Rick Sorkin carefully toweled his face dry. He looked at his pale reflection in the Chilton hotel's bathroom mirror.
"You can do this."
And he really could do this. For eight years, Rick Sorkin had worked towards a job at Pearson Hardman. For eight years, Rick Sorkin had waited to meet Harvey Spector. For eight years, Rick Sorkin had planned this meeting, rehearsed possible conversations.
Rick Sorkin wasn't worried, because Rick Sorkin had nothing to worry about. He became a certified genius at age 17. He graduated top of his class at Harvard Law. Rick Sorkin could easily get a job at any law firm in New York City.
But Rick Sorkin hasn't always been Rick Sorkin. Eight years ago, Rick Sorkin was Mike Ross. And eight years ago, Mike Ross cried as he clung to Harvey Spector, his mentor, his older brother, his best friend. Eight years ago, Mike Ross said goodbye to Harvey Spector and let the US Marshalls put him into the Witness Protection Program. Eight years ago, Mike Ross ceased to exist, and Rick Sorkin started his sophomore year of high school in an undisclosed location.
Rick Sorkin wasn't worried about his job interview, but Mike Ross was desperate to finally see Harvey Spector again.
Rick took a deep breath and straightened up. With one last encouraging nod to his reflection, Rick grabbed his briefcase from its place on the black countertop and walked out the door.
Harvey closed the door after letting out LittClone 7. He slumped against the wall and scrubbed a hand over his face. Jessica really knew how to torture him. Every potential associate Harvey had interviewed so far was like mini-Louis: unimaginative, annoying, and full of himself.
With a sigh, Harvey prepared himself for the next hopeful minion. Donna should be done harassing her latest victim. It was best not to keep her waiting.
When Harvey looked into the other room, he immediately noticed a change in the atmosphere. The young man had his back to Harvey, but Donna regarded the newest interviewee with interest. Harvey felt himself smile when Donna leaned to the side, careful to keep herself in the young man's vision, and winked. Harvey's respect for any man who could impress Donna went up even further when the man, instead of ignoring Donna and honing in on the powerful senior partner now in the room, offered Donna a handshake.
Then the young man turned around.
Striking blue eyes met Harvey's gaze. Those eyes held a thousand emotions: hope fear, pain, anxiety, longing, love. Those eyes were the same eyes that Harvey considered every morning, eyes that stared out of a picture Harvey kept hidden, tucked away in a battered copy of Treasure Island for eight years. Those eyes had given Harvey strength, perspective, and hope whenever he desperately needed them.
If there had been any doubt left of the young man's identity, it was completely erased when the young man said Harvey's name. Only Mike Ross spoke Harvey's name just that way, with those precise inflections, with such deep emotion.
Mike's gaze left Harvey's, shifted toward the room full of interview subjects, and Harvey realized he had spoken Mike's name out loud. The next moment, Mike was next to him, pulling them into the privacy of the interview room. Some part of Harvey's consciousness noticed Donna moving around her desk to close the door, but Harvey was more concerned with Mike.
The young man hovered, one hand still on Harvey's arm, his eyes questioning, vulnerable, and uncertain. Harvey realized he needed to react soon, needed to reassure Mike, so he did the only thing that made sense: just as Mike started to draw back into himself, Harvey closed the distance between them and pulled Mike into a desperate hug.
Harvey held the young man tightly, felt Mike's hands gripping the back of his shirt. He pressed his lips against the top of Mike's head and whispered Mike's name into soft blond hair. When he felt the drip of a hot tear against his neck, Harvey realized that he was crying as well.
In the back of his mind, Harvey remembered that Mike wasn't safe, that Mike shouldn't be here with him. In the back of his mind, Harvey knew that he and Mike were going to have a long, painful, and complicated conversation in the near future.
For the moment, however, Harvey was happy just to hug Mike even closer.