Hey guys! Sorry it's been a little while, it took me a bit of time to write this, and then I spent even longer contemplating whether or not I should actually upload it... Let me know what you guys think! It's quite a heavy topic/subject (one that comes up quite often in TV shows about prison) so here's an advanced warning/trigger warning for mentions and SLIGHT but barely covered descriptions of rape.

Three uncomfortable nights had gone by since Mike's arrival in the prison. He hadn't slept for two of them. On the third night… The expression on Lennox's face as he stared Mike up and down had been burned into the younger man's brain. He had been terrified of falling asleep, of being left vulnerable (more vulnerable than he already was of course) and he had been right to be. Now, on his fourth day at the prison, Mike was struggling hard to keep his nausea at bay as he tried, once again, to not appear weaker than he already did.

What made the whole thing worse was, because of a processing error, Mike hadn't been able to make calls or compile a visitor's list. They had promised him that it had been a genuine mistake, and that it would be fixed by the end of the week, but until then he was going to have to do without. As if Mike hadn't already been lonely enough. He'd managed to keep to himself over the past three days. He ate amongst others, but at the end of the table, near the door – not far enough away from other inmates to appear weak or isolated, but far enough away that, as of yet, Mike hadn't had to hold a conversation consisting of more than a couple of sentences.

However, as much as Mike was longing to avoid the other prisoners, he was pining for a friendly voice. His heart was heavy, and he could feel himself slipping into a place he hadn't been to since the months after his parents died. He was alone, so totally alone, and he had nobody. And the worst part was, he deserved it.

Four days in, and still lacking in any outside communication, Mike had given up. The bell for visiting hours rang, piercing a hole into Mike's heart, because all he wanted was to walk out into that room and see Rachel, or Harvey, or Donna. Hell, he'd even see Louis if it meant he could talk to somebody not wearing orange or blue. He missed speaking to someone without counting his words, and working hard not to offend someone. He missed the luxury of speaking without any danger of being hurt for what he'd said.

Mike laid chest deep in his thoughts, waiting and begging for the bell to ring out again, and announce the end of visiting hours. He couldn't stand the thought of everyone else meeting the people they loved, hugging them, and sitting down to talk about everything and nothing, only half appreciating the luxury they were allowed. They were probably cursing the fact that they were only allowed a small amount of time, not appreciating the fact that they were getting any time at all. Mike hated them. He hated everyone in here. He felt hot tears running down his face as he felt all the anger and hopelessness and sadness he'd been feeling since he walked away from Harvey at the prison gate began to well up inside of him like a pot boiling over. And the thought of his third night… That third night was burned in his brain, and he couldn't get it out, he couldn't get it out, he couldn't…

With his eyes closed and his vision impaired, Mike's hearing was acute enough to pick up footsteps walking down the hall towards him, and the distinct shift of a prison guard's gait (accounting for the gun attached to their left hip). Mike swiftly sat up, trying to compose himself before the guard reached his cell. Nevertheless, despite the fact Mike was upright and the tears had been wiped from his eyes, the guard stopped. Mike swallowed, as if he hadn't had enough on his mind already…

"Ross?" The guard asked questioningly. Mike had never seen him before, which led him to believe that the guard was looking for confirmation that he had the right man. Mike nodded slowly, trying to treat the guard with as much respect as his defeated spirit could muster.

As he tried to meet the guard's (whose name tag read "Burrows") eyes, Mike suddenly registered how flustered the guy looked. He was panting slightly, and his movements were more erratic. Whatever Burrows had done, he'd just got a pretty stern telling off for it.

"You've got a visitor," Burrows reported, and suddenly anything else the guy said didn't really matter. Mike stood up fast – not caring how desperate he appeared, and rushed past the guard towards the visitor's lounge, while Burrows called after him, trying to regain some authority in his voice.

"ROSS! Other way, I've been instructed to take you to a private visitor's room."

Mike remembered a room like this, from an interview with Clifford Danner. His heart sank suddenly, at the thought of walking in there to see just another lawyer or reporter or even the unrelenting Gibbs, trying to get him to turn on Harvey once again. He walked a little more slowly in the opposite direction this time, praying that he saw someone, anyone he recognised, who could offer him some small comfort.

ONE HOUR PREVIOUSLY

It had been a long time since Donna had seen Harvey so damn pissed. She watched him storm around the reception of the prison, making no move to stop him because the rage he was expressing was the same rage she was feeling herself.

It had been four days since Harvey and Mike had left what was supposed to be Mike and Rachel's wedding. Four days since Harvey had then appeared at her door, struggling to disguise the tear tracks on his face. Four days since she'd been without Harvey. It wasn't like the man had seen Mike all day every day, but the lawyer seemed lost without him. It was different to when Mike had left to become an investment banker, and even different to when she had left him for Louis, because both times, Harvey had known they were safe.

Now, and for the past four days, Harvey had been tortured by the thought of Mike's situation. It wasn't even the thought of him in prison, really. It was the lack of communication and complete radio silence. Donna had tried to comfort Harvey, telling him that Mike was probably just adjusting, and trying to adapt to his new situation, and that he'd call when he was ready. But he didn't. It was only after Rachel called Donna on the fourth day, asking if either of them had heard from Mike, that Harvey had stormed down to the prison with a face like thunder shouting and swearing at anyone who would listen, and demanding to see his best friend. Donna watched on as Harvey ripped each receptionist to shreds, as they tried to tell him politely that there had "been a mix-up with the processing" and that he'd "be able to see Mr Ross within the next two weeks" but that he'd "have to be patient and please calm down."

Finally, after a lot more yelling, swearing and fighting, a disgruntled security guard agreed to let Harvey use a visitation room, but that he'd only allow one person to visit at a time. Harvey turned to Donna with an expression that was half protest and half pleading, and Donna understood immediately, backing off towards the waiting room the frazzled security guard was trying to direct her to, while Harvey stalked towards the visitation rooms with a walk that was half proud and half desperate.

Now, Harvey sat watching the door, his eyes unmoving and focussed, listening for any evidence of his friend's approach. He didn't know what he'd say when Mike arrived. There was so much he wanted his friend to know, so much he wanted to ask him…

But when the door opened, all trains of thought were gone from Harvey's mind. Mike shuffled in, and one look at him told Harvey he was already struggling beyond belief.

"Take the cuffs off." Harvey said without thought. He was rattled. For some reason, he hadn't pictured Mike wearing anything but a suit as he walked in. The orange jumpsuit exasperated Mike's pale skin, making him appear even sickly and small. It was baggy, and not suiting to the man's thin frame (was he always that thin?) and it seemed to hang loosely like shedding skin.

But the worse things about Mike were his eyes, desperate and pleading, hidden behind hollow circles and deep purple bags.

'It's been four days' Harvey thought to himself, desperately wondering how the hell he could've let this happen.

"Mike…" He started, unable to control his words, "what have they done to you?"

Mike had stumbled down the hallway, wearing the handcuffs they had so forcefully slapped on him, not even caring about anything except whoever the hell was behind that door. His wrists hurt, however, and he began to realise the cuffs were too tight. He felt constricted, fretting and panicking as he looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling the need to squint at the bright orange of his jumpsuit. He couldn't see anyone like this! He was a disgrace, and he was ashamed. But it was too late, he was at the door, and there was no turning back now…

It was Harvey. Sitting there in a perfectly arranged, expensive suit, leaning his head on his hands the way he so often did when he was thinking about something. Harvey, looking as normal and Harvey as the last time Mike saw him. The lawyer stood up, subconsciously buttoning up his suit jacket and walked towards Mike, looking him up and down. The cuffs on Mike's wrists started to burn, and his cheeks flushed slightly with shame. But he didn't care. It was Harvey. Harvey was here. And everything would be okay.

He barely heard Harvey demand that his cuffs be removed, he only felt their weight lift, and he was suddenly aware that the guard had left the room, closing the door behind him. And now he was alone with his best friend, and they could talk. Mike wasn't alone anymore. He felt tears spring into his eyes, and his throat felt thick, but before he could force any words out, he heard Harvey speak.

"Mike… What have they done to you?"

Mike moved to sit down, desperate for a way out of the conversation, but Harvey moved to block him, placing a hand on his shoulder and staring directly into the young man's eyes.

"Mike." He said, strongly enough to make Mike's head snap up to meet his gaze.

"I know you probably want me to sit down like I would with any other issue, and avoid it with humour and distraction and talk about the firm and who's screwing with who and which clients are stirring trouble…" Harvey broke off for a second, his mind flicking back to the turmoil that their firm (or the skeletal remains of what had been their firm) was in, before blinking it out of his mind. "But I can't do that – at least not yet. You need to talk to me."

A tear rolled down Mike's cheek, and without thinking, he pulled the older man into a firm hug. He was relishing every second. The feeling of Harvey's hands on his back, flat and supportive, the strength of Harvey's chest, the tickle of his breath on Mike's neck, and the all-round warmth of his body. Mike hugged his best friend like a soldier going to war – as though it would be the very last time. It wasn't romantic, or anything of the sort, but out of all the hugs Mike could remember (which, considering his memory, was a fair amount) it was the best hug he'd experienced in a long time.

And then they broke apart, and he was talking. He was telling Harvey about everything – about his cellmate, about how lonely he was, about how ashamed he felt to be dressed in orange, and how he never thought he'd consider fresh air a luxury. Even working as an associate, he'd still been allowed some time outside, he'd said, boasting a genuine, but shallow laugh from Harvey, who's face had sunk more and more with every word Mike spoke.

But by the end, there was still one thing Mike had left out. It lingered on the edge of his tongue, begging to be said. Mike wanted nothing more than to be able to force it out of his mouth. He wanted Harvey to know, because Harvey would know what to say, how to help. But he couldn't get the words past his lips. So they moved on. They joked about Louis, Mike asked after Rachel and her parents, and Harvey informed him that Donna was waiting on the other side of the wall, with an intricately thought out voicemail from Mike's fiancé stored on her phone.

Eventually, both men were beginning to realise the borrowed time they were speaking on, and Mike was telling himself that this was it… The last chance he had to tell Harvey and get this out in the open… Harvey could help. Harvey would help.

"Listen, Mike, I know you've got something on your mind," Harvey said suddenly. Mike could have wept, right there, out of gratitude for Harvey being the first to bring it up, and sparing him the discomfort.

Harvey reached over, trying to grab the younger man's arms and force Mike to look at him.

"What is it?"

Mike swallowed. Now or never.

"You know… I told you about my cellmate… About his rules… And how I said he hadn't told me what they were yet…"

Harvey's face hardened and his heart seemed to drop as though it were made of stone, but he didn't break his gaze. He nodded solemnly and urged Mike to continue.

"I lied." Mike said simply, steeling himself for the story he was about to divulge.

"He… It was the third night, last night, and I was trying to sleep, y'know I hadn't slept all that much and I was finally starting to drift off and I suddenly felt the bunk shift… And he got down and he… He came over to me and… I couldn't… God, Harvey. I'm so ashamed. I feel disgusting – I can't get the memory out of my head," he was growing more and more distraught with each word. "I… Can't… Stop… Thinking about it." He finally ended, looking up into Harvey's eyes, only to feel his heart stop.

When he'd been considering telling Harvey, Mike's focus had been on the ways Harvey he could help him. He'd barely thought about anything else. And now that he stared into the eyes of his best friend, and he saw real darkness. His mind snapped back to the night Harvey had found out about Stephen Huntley, and the way he'd looked at Donna before they'd all watched him storm into the men's bathroom, returning sporting a fair array of injuries.

"Harvey- Listen I shouldn't have told you… It's no big deal, I mean, I can handle it-"

Harvey screwed up his eyes. Blood was rushing through his head with the speed of a lahar, speeding down a mountain and destroying everything in its path. All Harvey could hear over the sound of his own thoughts was his heart beating, and beating fast. How the fuck had he let this happen? Mike should never have gone to prison. Mike shouldn't be here. Mike shouldn't be sitting in front of him with tears streaming down his face, trying his hardest to act brave. None of this should be happening, but it was, and it was all Harvey's fucking fault.

"Not a big deal?!" Harvey's voice came out louder and angrier than he'd intended it, but he made no effort to calm himself. "Mike, you do realise what you just told me about was a crime, right?"

Mike turned the corner of his mouth up, in the faintest attempt at a smile.

"What're you gonna do? Send him to prison?"

But Harvey wasn't laughing. In fact, he was crying. He'd stood up and turned away from Mike, in the hopes that the younger man wouldn't notice.

"Mike… What do you want me to do?"

Mike hadn't expected that. He'd just assumed Harvey would know what to do. But this was… It was a good question actually. He'd felt so trapped, so helpless and so alone, and for once he actually hadn't considered how he could get out of it.

"I… Don't know…"

In two strides, Harvey crossed the room and swept Mike up in a strong, protective hug, that was unlike anything Mike had experienced before. The hug was fiercely impassioned, speaking hundreds of words in the space of a few seconds. Mike allowed his head to rest completely on Harvey's shoulder as he tried not to ruin the man's $3000 suit. "I'm so sorry," he heard Harvey whisper, and Mike found himself replying, over and over again.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay…"

"Is it?" Harvey said, pulling away. Mike swallowed. No matter how he answered that question, Harvey would know the truth.

"Look, Mike, first thing's first, I'm gonna do everything I can to get you out of that cell, and I'll have Donna draw up a –"

"No." Mike said, suddenly and far too loudly.

"Sorry," he began, immediately afterwards, "I mean, please get me out of the cell, please, but… Don't tell Donna. Don't tell anyone."

Harvey looked the man up and down, standing with his back hunched and arms shadowing his ribs, as if protecting himself from further harm.

"Okay," Harvey said softly, noticing that Mike was starting to fidget, the way he always used to when he was afraid ("afraid that someone was going to find out about his secret, mostly", Harvey thought). At that moment, a swift knock on the door startled the two men.

"Come on man, visiting hours ended almost forty-five minutes ago, cut me some slack and wrap it up will you?" The disgruntled guard outside the door sounded both nervous and pissed off, and Mike had some suspicion that being treated to Harvey Specter in a bad mood may have contributed to these emotions.

Harvey put a final hand on Mike's shoulder, squeezing it and looking directly into the younger man's eyes.

"You're not spending another night in that cell, Mike" he whispered, as the guard opened the door, "I promise."

And with that, Harvey was lead from the room, leaving Mike, once again, completely alone.

So there it is! I understand this is a very touchy subject and it's so hard to write something like this well, which is why I spent such a long time debating whether or not it was a good idea to post it, but there it is. I could very well take this down within the next couple of days, but it just all depends on how it's received. So on that note, please, please, PLEASE leave a review and tell me what you think about this, and whether or not you think I should keep it up... Hope you all enjoyed reading this! Let me know if you did/didn't enjoy it, I love hearing your feedback, good or bad! I hope to be updating soon! Bye for now 3