Okay folks! We're almost at the end! Just so you all know, I've been asked by several people on the meme for an epilogue, so there will be an epilogue to be posted in the near future after chapter 9. I don't know when I'll have this done, so you'll have to be patient. Let me know, however, if you have any questions that you wish to be answered if they haven't been already dealt with post-chapter 9. I will try to work them into the epilogue for you. Hope you like this one and sorry for the delay. I was busy all day viewing Mt. St. Helens and hanging with my aunt and uncle's four aussies. Mike would be proud! ;P
For the next week, Harvey felt completely off his game. He couldn't stop thinking about Mike, first off, and Donna had forced him to admit that he liked the kid as more than just a good joke.
And there was something about the blue-eyed psychic, though Harvey seriously doubted his supposed abilities. Whether or not Mike was capable of ESP, the kid was good with animals, a talent Harvey sorely needed at the moment.
His home life was broaching on more than just unpleasant; his living room was still in ruins, he was without a TV, his priceless artifacts had been destroyed, and he didn't even want to talk about his Star Trek collection.
He still had no clue what had come between Stuart and Oscar, but he was certain it needed to be resolved immediately, before any more of his invaluable sentimental treasures were sent to wait for him in the afterlife.
Donna had promised Harvey that she'd speak to Mike on his behalf, but only regarding the state of his pets. Beyond that she had refused to aid him. He'd gotten the feeling that she was enjoying her role as third-party observer a bit too much. Not that he could do anything about it. Mike was her friend, after all, and Donna…well, Donna was Donna.
By the end of the week he was hanging onto his sanity by a tattered thread. He just hoped he wouldn't return home to find that his pets had developed gun powder in the middle of the day and bombed the hell out of his condo.
It was a particularly hot Friday afternoon that week, and Harvey was extremely busy trying not to die of heat stroke in his office. The air conditioning had failed earlier that morning and Jessica and a few of the building's other powerful occupants were doing everything they could to get it fixed before they all melted. But of course, in New York, that meant that the repairmen were only moving a fraction of a second faster than normal, which was virtually not at all.
Harvey had been attempting to get the final casework done for Jason Pullman's case at the exhibit, when the heat literally caused his pen to explode. At least, he blamed it on the heat. Ink had splattered all over the files and across his pastel blue shirt that Rene had made for him just yesterday. And of course, it was so hot that Harvey feared if he removed his shirt to exchange it for a fresh one, that he'd never want to put the shirt back on after he got it off.
He lazily patted the files on his desk with a tissue in a fruitless attempt to salvage the papers, wondering idly why Donna hadn't rushed in with his replacement suit. He glanced out of his office to see an unfamiliar man chatting amiably with her—and Donna never chatted amiably with anyone except Harvey or his mother.
The man was wearing the cheapest suit he had ever seen, with shoes that matched only in price range. His hair was an unruly blond mess, and he seemed too skinny in the untailored fabric. It wasn't until Donna stood and opened Harvey's door that he realized the man was Mike. He tried not to let flashbacks of their last disastrous encounter plague him as he avoided the man's gaze.
"Harvey, Mike's here about some business."
He tried to convince himself that he didn't care that Mike was here at all, but the heat was making it difficult to think. Yes, it was definitely the heat. Without looking up from his papers, Harvey said, "It's customary to call and schedule an appointment."
Mike fidgeted nervously. "Donna said to come in whenever…"
Harvey looked up at him finally, edging closer to his desk in an effort to hide the ink stain on his shirt. Mike looked uncertain of himself. He was, like everyone else in the building, sweating from the heat, but his eyes were focused everywhere except on Harvey. He kept tugging at his horribly skinny tie—another fashion travesty. Harvey ignored the images of a Mike who was sweaty for entirely different reasons that were flashing into his brain.
"Umm, so do I—"
"Have a seat," Harvey said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.
Mike sat down quickly, back rigidly straight, knee bouncing up and down slightly. He finally let go of his tie and clasped his hands together, twiddling his thumbs.
"What can I do for you? Are you under investigation by the fashion police?" Harvey jested.
Mike glared. "No. One of the veterinary hospitals I help out is being wrongfully sued for malpractice."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
Mike swallowed. "Whatever you can. Please."
Harvey stared at Mike, considering his options. He'd of course need to know the specifics of the case. He'd already decided he'd help Mike. He just needed to know how. He ran his thumb up and down the length of the pen in his hand as he stared at the blond.
Mike's eyes flicked from the pen to Harvey. "You know that's leaking, right?"
Harvey frowned in confusion before studying the pen in question and discovering a huge swatch of ink across his hand. He swore and ripped a wad of tissues from the box on his desk.
Mike was clearly trying not to smile, and it made Harvey annoyed at how happy the sight made him.
"Donna!" he called distractedly.
The redhead was nowhere to be found, unfortunately. Harvey swore again.
"I was uh, also hoping you could maybe pay me?"
Harvey glared at Mike.
"You know, for all my services."
Harvey looked down at his black-stained hand, then at his ink-spattered jacket and decided the suit was ruined before pulling out a new pen. "What's the damage?"
"Uh, well, I usually charge about $50 per animal—"
"For the hospital," Harvey interrupted.
Mike blinked at him. "Uhhh, well," and there was a pause where it looked like Mike was doing some intense thinking. Then he started rattling off all sorts of legalese that sounded to Harvey a lot like a brief.
Harvey eyed him suspiciously. "Is that supposed to impress me?" Not that he'd admit that he was impressed.
"No. That's what my suit was for," Mike smiled back, and Harvey wasn't sure if he was joking or not.
Harvey turned his gaze back to his desk and started scrawling the first few lines of "Ring of Fire" down, hoping he looked insanely busy. "Well, I'll think about it. I assume they can't afford my services or else they'd have bothered to arrange a meeting with me, which means I'd have to do it pro bono. And I don't do pro bono."
Mike looked like he was about to deflate. He sank into the chair a bit and turned to glance at Donna's empty station like she'd be able to hand him the world. "But Donna said—"
"I'll think about it. I need to see the particulars first, so why don't you send them over and then we'll discuss the case more?" Harvey wasn't going to do this without securing another meeting with Mike.
The blond seemed to perk up a bit as he realized Harvey was actually going to help him. "Thank you, Mr. Specter." Harvey winced at the formalness of the name.
"Harvey," he corrected.
"Harvey."
The awkward silence was beginning to filter into the room, so Harvey gave the kid one last glance. "Why don't you schedule another meeting with Donna. We'll talk then."
Mike nodded and allowed his gaze to rest on Harvey's scattered and partially drowned papers.
He stood and peered over at Harvey's files. Harvey gave him an annoyed look, but the kid didn't seem to be paying any attention. His eyes were zipping across the page and Harvey briefly feared the man was having a seizure.
"Who typed that, a monkey?" Mike scoffed.
"Close enough." The associates aren't as hairy, Harvey thought. "Why?"
"Because there are about seven typos on that page alone. Not to mention the egregious error in citing that precedent case on the third to last line."
Harvey reread the third line from the bottom and noticed Mike was right. They'd cited the wrong case name. But how did Mike know that?
"How did you know that?"
Mike shrugged. "I like to read," he supplied mysteriously. Mike turned to leave and Harvey discreetly admired the kid from the back as he staggered out.
"Donna!" Harvey called again, this time satisfied when the assistant pushed into the office with his spare suit.
Once he'd changed shirts, he let himself collapse atop his desk only after Mike's retreating form had completely disappeared from view. It only took a couple more minutes for him to realize he'd just placed his new jacket's sleeve in the puddle of ink.