Harvey stabbed the end button on his cell in a fit of irritation. He'd just spent an enormous amount of money on a cab to get to Mike's crappy apartment, and waded through the dingy halls, up creaky stairs, past piles of rotting garbage bags, and a door that reeked of weed, to stand before Mike's door.
And now Mike wasn't answering his phone.
Harvey had already tried knocking, but there was no answer, and when he leaned his ear against the door, all he heard was an odd rumbling noise. Maybe Mike had turned the TV on and couldn't hear his phone. Maybe it was nothing. But it meant that Harvey was ignored, and Harvey Specter was not to be ignored, unintentionally or no.
"Mike!" he called, banging on the door once more. "Mike! Open the door!"
He thought he heard a dull thud beyond, accompanied by a muted yelp, but after a few more seconds of waiting it was clear that Mike wasn't coming to let him in.
Harvey repeated his previous attempts to get Mike's attention, but to no avail, and now he could smell something faintly smoky in the air. He looked down at the broken sealing on the bottom of the door and saw thick black smoke curling through, disappearing into the crappy hallway.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Harvey's stomach as he realized what must have happened.
He knew the kid had been trying to tell him, as ridiculous as it was, that he could suddenly start fires, but Harvey hadn't been willing to listen. To be fair, it's not like he would have believed the man anyway. Apparently his very expensive tie was a sacrifice that had to be made. Harvey had taken one good look at Mike's face before the man ran off, and then he'd taken a good look at Donna's face and took off after him.
The assistant was uncharacteristically concerned for Mike's well-being, and if that tendril of smoke that was now steadily creeping through Mike's door was anything to go by, it was with good cause.
Harvey gave the door knob a good twist, but the thing was locked not to mention searing hot. And judging by the state of Mike's building, he would be surprised if Mike had less than three locks on his door. That left him one option.
Harvey took a step back and kicked at the door knob with his extremely expensive Italian shoes, trying to remind himself that Mike's life was more important than his favorite pair of footwear.
After a few more kicks the door flew off its hinges, splintering where he'd ripped it from the door frame. He forgot all about his clothes as he was confronted by a room so heavy with smoke and flames that he could barely see. He called Mike's name, trying to maintain his focus and hastily find his associate.
He heard a stream of terrible coughs coming from the far corner. Of course Mike would be all the way across the room. At least he was smart enough to have stayed low.
Harvey crouched down and took out the handkerchief he carried with this suit, placing it over his mouth to prevent inhaling tons of smoke. He crawled quickly over to Mike, who was blinking bloodshot eyes curiously up at him.
His associate looked absolutely terrible. He was covered in ash and sweat and tears, and there were scorch marks on his left leg. The bruise on his head from earlier (which Harvey had noticed but not commented on) was looking especially nasty, and Mike was clearly having trouble breathing and staying conscious.
"Mike," Harvey said for the second time (he could tell Mike was on the edge of passing out), resting a hand on the man when he'd gotten close enough. Mike's eyes rolled up to look at him, blinking back tears and squinting at the sight of Harvey.
He gave his associate a tug, but he realized that Mike was out of power; he wasn't going anywhere on his own. Harvey frantically took a look at the apartment, or what he could see of it through the haze.
Mike's kitchen was a bright flash off to the right, and the couch was burning steadily. Something on the floor that looked like it was attached to a pole was also on fire, and Harvey wondered if maybe that explained the crash and yell he'd heard before and why Mike's pants looked burned.
The apartment was gone. There was no way he could stop the blaze, but he could save Mike. He scooped up the thin frame of a man in his arms, feeling glad that his adrenaline was pumping liquid strength into his veins, and he hurriedly made his way out of the room.
Mike gave a weak struggle in his arms, but Harvey held fast, not willing to let him go until they were in the clear.
When he got to the front door he found it to be a jagged mess of wood that was now being kissed by the nearby flames from the sofa, and Harvey was on the wrong side of it.
He looked around for a different path, but there was no way he'd make it by backtracking; the flames had followed him out and there was no way to go but forward. Trying to hold his breath as he inhaled the ash hanging in the air, he steeled himself and leaped through the flames, shoving out the door and emerging through the smoke to end up in the hallway.
But all he found that he cared about was Mike. He didn't even think about the state of his favorite suit, or that he'd probably destroyed his lungs and risked being burned for someone else. He only held tighter to the limp body in his arms until he realized that it wasn't breathing.
Harvey dropped Mike to the floor, kneeling above him. The associate flailed his limbs in a panic, and Harvey knew that Mike couldn't breathe, that he was suffocating. He didn't think he'd ever be able to erase the memory of the sounds Mike was making as he gasped desperately for the somewhat smoke-free air.
He whipped out his phone and dialed 911, shouting the words fire, ambulance, and the address of Mike's building before setting the phone down. He could faintly hear the operator trying to talk to him from the tinny speaker of the device as he leaned over Mike, shaking with anxiety at what he was about to do.
C'mon, kid. Don't give up on me, he thought as he looked at Mike, took a deep breathe, and forced air into the man's lungs.
…
Mike woke with a start as he burst from the flames that were chasing him. He felt dizzy and confused, and he could feel the sweat pouring off of him in waves. He winced at the feeling, anticipating another fire to crop up, but there was nothing.
That's when he noticed that he was snugly being held against something just as warm as himself, but it was soft and plush. He realized dazedly that it was pulsing too, and he blinked his itching eyes open to find himself surrounded by black-sleeved arms, and a leg on each side of his own.
Mike stared curiously at the arms, and wondered who they belonged to. He tilted his head back slowly, feeling utterly exhausted as he took in a short, sharp breath, and saw a Harvey-like creature peering down at him.
"Thank God," he thought he heard the not-Harvey say. It sounded far away, like they were underwater.
He panicked for a minute as he began to worry about setting this figure on fire, but the arms tightened comfortingly around him, and a soothing voice calmed him, willed him to quiet.
Mike sagged tiredly, wondering where they were. It looked like the hallway of his building, but there was less smoke than he vaguely recalled there being. He heard a loud bang and found he was too tired to even startle at the noise. The arms around his waist held fast, and he heard the not-Harvey's voice again.
"Took their damn time getting here," the voice rasped. When Mike let out a series of scratchy coughs and futilely struggled against the hold, the voice added, "It's okay, kid. It's just the fire department. Everything's going to be alright, okay? Take it easy. Shhh. That's it."
Mike relaxed wearily into the source of the voice, following its instructions to rest. He was sure he saw the familiar yellow uniform of the iconic firemen before his vision was replaced with darkness.
So this is just about the end, here. Should be just one more chapter left! Once again, thank you all for the wonderful reviews and favoriting/alerting of this story! Seriously, it makes me very happy to see all of your responses! :) I'll try to have the next bit up soon!