Chapter 7

"I know life has been hard for you-"

"I'm Rachel Zane. I'll be giving you your orientation."

"– but you're not a kid anymore –"

"If they find out I lied about you going to Harvard, they'll take away my license."

"– and I want you to promise me you'll start living up to your potential."

"You set me up."

"You care about me. –"

"Come on. You know I don't want to live in a world where we're not tight."

" – I saw you smile when I showed up for work this morning."

"You may have had the courage to get this job, –"

"I've only ever had one person who told me what I needed to hear... –"

"–but you don't have the balls to stick it out when it gets tough."

"– Maybe it's time I started trusting somebody else."

Mike woke up with a gasp. He felt as though he'd breached the surface of deep water, left somewhere convoluted for somewhere clear. At first he noticed only the muted silence of a penthouse apartment, high above the noise. After a few slow breaths, Mike let out a soft, breathy chuckle. In the silence he'd noticed something else. He wasn't afraid. No nightmares. He brought his hands to his face to cover his stupidly relieved expression. No nightmares. He pushed himself up and took a deep breath, dropping his hands into his lap.

He was alone in the bed, alone in the room, but a quick touch to the other side of the bed said Harvey had left recently. The sheets were still warm. Mike checked his watch and then ran a hand through his short hair. He'd slept peacefully for three hours.

A white t-shirt had made the cut at Mike's apartment, and Mike pulled it on before trudging out into the rest of the living space. He was trying to make sure his hair wasn't sticking up when he spotted Harvey on the other side of the bar... in the kitchen... with the frying pan out.

"Are you going to cook?" Mike asked. "What's for dinner?"

"Pancakes," Harvey answered bluntly then threw a glance at Mike that dared him to make a joke. "Sit down."

The stools along the bar were almost too high, but Mike settled into one comfortably. Maybe Harvey did know how to cook. He had all the ingredients for pancakes aligned neatly by the stove. Instant pancakes didn't take much, but since Harvey didn't seem the cooking type, this was amazing to Mike already.

"Pancakes? What are you, twelve?" Mike asked.

"No. I'm a god damn adult. I can eat whatever I like, and I happen to love pancakes. Now shut up. We've got more important things to discuss." He gave Mike an intense look before he focused on mixing the batter together. Mike just smiled. Grammy used to make breakfast for dinner all the time when he was growing up. "So...Tell me about the car."

Mike took a slow breath. He should have known this was coming. "It was a Corvette. A ZR1. Custom light tube under the front. Freshly painted blue." He clasped his hands in front of him on the counter and kept his eyes on Harvey.

"How do you know it was fresh?" Harvey asked.

Mike smiled wryly. "Cause I could smell the paint once the car stopped after it hit me."

Harvey's face was priceless – concern and anger mixed together – but priceless. It made Mike's chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his bruised ribs. Harvey always fought for him. He'd kept Mike sane, kept him on track... and Mike remembered that now. If that was his first week... how much had Harvey done for him since then? How much was Mike missing? How sold was his entire life to this man?

"So," Mike began and looked away from Harvey. The older lawyer looked away too, vigorously stirring the batter and then turning around to spray the frying pan. "I didn't see the license plate. I mean I only saw the front. It wasn't a numbered plate though. It was one of those stylized plates. It had two guns crossed. I think it was a Guns N Roses plate... And that's all I've got."

Harvey didn't speak for awhile. Mike heard the slight sizzle as the batter hit the pan, and again. Should Mike repeat himself? Was Harvey disappointed? No. That wasn't something Harvey would be disappointed about. Then wh-

"Someone tried to shoot you today." Harvey's voice was so cold, and Mike shivered in the wake of it.

"I noticed," he said.

"What the hell did you and Trevor get up to that has people trying to kill you over it?" Harvey asked. His voice was a growl. "And don't try and tell me Trevor isn't part of it, because he is. Hell, maybe that's why we can't find him. Maybe they already got to him. Maybe he's dead."

Mike slammed his hands down on the counter. Harvey stopped speaking, but he didn't turn around. "Stop it, Harvey. Stop saying bad things about Trevor as though they make you happy. He's my oldest friend." His stomach felt ill after the words left his mouth. Friend? His mind scolded him. Friend? What kind of friend let you take the fall? What kind of friend got you into drugs? What kind of friend –?

He closed his eyes. Harvey said Trevor tried to ruin his career. He couldn't remember the specifics of what Trevor did, but he knew deep down that Trevor had put a permanent headstone on their relationship.

A plate was set in front of him, two fresh and perfect pancakes sitting in the middle. A tub of butter, a fork, and a bottle of syrup appeared beside it. Mike looked up at Harvey, shocked. He was leaning close, and Mike's brain whimpered.

"The only thing that bastard has ever done that made me happy, Mike, was get the hell out of your life," Harvey said, voice quiet but intense. "You were drowning, and he was the anchor."

"That boy is an anchor."

Mike felt cold as his grandmother's voice rose up in his memories. He didn't like it. "Yeah well... it was about time I started trusting someone else."

Harvey's smile was unexpected... and painfully brilliant. He nodded his head, pulling away from Mike and back toward the stove. Mike prepared his pancakes, picked up his fork, and shoved half of one in his mouth all at once.

Was it possible they'd been together before the accident? Harvey hadn't said they were – had introduced himself as his boss, not his boyfriend. He hadn't held Mike's hand in the hospital or bought him any gifts. There had been no 'get-well-soon' flowers or teddy bear or anything when Mike had woken up. But what if there had been a relationship? What if Harvey just wasn't mentioning it to keep the stress of it out of Mike's mind? Was he worried about how Mike felt? Was he worried Mike didn't like him like that anymore? Because Mike definitely had a hankering for some Harvey. But Mike wasn't mentioning it in case Harvey hadn't known, so maybe Harvey wasn't mentioning it because he didn't think Mike knew. Mike chewed slowly as he stared at the outline of Harvey's shoulders and back and biceps and goodness-

"I love-," Mike began, around his second pancake, before realizing he was speaking. He swallowed heavily, and Harvey turned to look at him expectantly. Mike shook his head. "-pancakes," he finished when his mouth was empty. "Good choice for dinner. Major points."

"I've been known to have a good idea or two in my lifetime," Harvey answered with a smug look and a teasing note before turning back to the stove. Mike wasn't sure what he'd done to cause Harvey's mood to lighten so much so quickly, but a vision of them in Harvey's office, standing as equals for the first time, Mike in a brand new suit, came to mind... and he was pretty sure that had something to do with it.

He smiled at the memory, a small lift of his lips. He remembered it. He remembered that day and the one before it and the one before that. He remembered touring Harvard. He remembered meeting Rachel. He remembered meeting Louis. He remembered meeting Harvey. A laugh escaped Mike and he covered his mouth but couldn't stop grinning. When Harvey turned around to check on him, Mike's eyes were off somewhere else, running through the memories and relishing each small detail he could recall.

This was his dream from last night! He'd suspected they were memories, pieces of his missing life, but this was so much more substantial. He knew Harvey. He'd won him over in a fraudulent interview and gotten a job at a law firm and holy crap. He really was a lawyer! And he knew all those people he'd seen in the office that morning, the ones who'd come by his desk to ask him if he was alright or tease him about coming in with Harvey. He knew them all!

And he knew Harvey. He knew him and that little proud look with that little warm smile the day Mike came in after giving away the last plan B he had to go back to his old life – a life he didn't want to live. He knew Harvey. Mike knew him.

He stood from his seat on the stool and turned around to look at Harvey, who'd come around the bar to check on him. When he locked eyes on Harvey, the worry in his boss's eyes shifted into hesitation.

"Harvey," Mike said, clear and certain, and that hesitation faded into shock.

While Harvey was stunned, Mike was overcome. He wrapped his arms around Harvey and pulled him into a tight hug. He laughed into Harvey's shoulder, leaned his head against Harvey's. His chest was burning, and it felt so good. Harvey's arms found their way around Mike eventually and drew another happy laugh from Mike.

"Jesus Christ," Mike said and let out a short sigh. "I know you... Harvey, I know you."

"Your memory-?" Harvey asked, pulling away to look into Mike's eyes. Mike hoped he saw the recognition there.

Mike shook his head. "Not everything," he said. "It's just... the interview and that first case and Louis trying to scare me away. I remember that leap of faith when I gave Trevor the drugs. I remember being a lawyer. God, you don't know how much easier this is going to be for me now."

"Did you not trust me before?" Harvey asked. He smiled a little and raised his hand to ruffle Mike's hair, but he ended up just sort of setting his hand on Mike's hair for a moment before pulling away.

"I did. I mean, I was trying. But now it's like the difference of looking at a photograph of the Grand Canyon and actually going. Harvey, I –." Mike paused, voice caught in his throat. His relief was so intense, his joy so strong, his memory of that tense moment of longing during dance lessons so clear that he wanted to just move forward and kiss Harvey, but he held it in.

They hadn't been in a relationship. Mike realized that. Harvey was smooth around him, but when it came to physical touch he was disjointed. Harvey was kind but not loving. They were close, closer than an employee and a boss ought to be... but Mike was realizing this crush of his was probably just that – a silly one-sided boy crush on the cool older guy who had no idea.

"Me too," Harvey said when Mike failed to continue. Mike wondered what Harvey thought he'd been about to say. He wondered if he'd been about to say anything at all. What was Harvey agreeing with? Something positive, since Harvey was smiling.

"I can do this," Mike said decidedly and nodded.

"I never doubted you for a second." And Mike was utterly certain that Harvey was completely serious. Loyalty. Trust. He'd only grazed the surface of their relationship with this spot of memories. How much more would he gain if he kept trying? Kept living with Harvey? They may not have been together, but Mike knew he wanted whatever it was they'd had back.

Mike hadn't asked Harvey to sleep with him again when night came, but he really wished he had. His mind told him it was wrong to pull Harvey into his bed for his own benefit when he didn't think Harvey felt anything similar to his own love-struck emotions. His logical side told him that was selfish, that was the quickest way to blow his cover and be a douche at the same time. So he'd held it in when they parted for the night and tried to get comfortable in the queen size sheets that threatened to swallow him whole.

He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm his nervous heart. No nightmares, he told himself. No nightmares tonight. Just like earlier. He took a second breath. Then a third. He imagined sinking into his pillow in the stillness of his room, slipping away into a delicate and comfortable darkness, and felt the edges of his mind blur with the promise of sleep.

"Where'd you hide it, Ross?!"

His gasped for air, his eyes springing open. Gravel bit into his cheek as he rolled himself over on the side of the street. His chest hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe right. Why couldn't he breathe? Please say he didn't have broken ribs. He could die from trying to breathe if he had broken ribs. The guy was a silhouette in the car lights, kneeling down to Mike on the asphalt. He lifted Mike's hand, the one not holding onto his throbbing chest, into his own.

"Tell me! Where did you put it?"

No. Mike shook his head. No he wouldn't give it to them. It wasn't theirs to take. The guy growled and jerked his hand. The sound was like a rubber pipe falling out of place, a sort of suction noise, but all Mike could hear was his own scream. Someone covered his mouth to block the cry and tears pricked Mike's eyes. The pain snapping through his every nerve was worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

"Tell them where it is, Mike!"

Trevor, his face lit up by the headlights and yet covered in shadows, moved around the edge of the pack. Was he sorry for this? Was that what Mike heard? Was Trevor feeling bad? It's too late for that, he wanted to scream, but he could barely manage whimpering. He thought of Harvey, imagined him stopping a situation with a pen and paper, imagined him stopping this situation too. Harvey could save him. Harvey could –

"No use holding out, Ross. No hot shot lawyers here to save you this time!"

Mike let out the most pathetic noise his body could produce as he spotted the glint of a metal bat being held in someone's gloved grip. The hand was still covering his mouth, another hand holding his arm to his aching chest. He couldn't move. It hurt too much.

"You've got about two minutes before I lose my temper."

The knife shone so bright in the night. Mike was dizzy with pain, and blood rushed to his head in fear. Even the rush of adrenaline through his veins wasn't enough to help him shake off the hands holding him down, and the knife was coming closer. So close.

The tip of the blade broke through the skin on his shoulder, and his plea was lost in the leather glove that sucked up anything he could possibly say.

"Mike!"

Harvey's voice was so loud, even over the rush of blood in his ears. Mike's hand shot up to cover his shoulder and block it from the knife. His eyes opened and he found his panting breaths unhindered by mysterious hands.

"Mike?" Harvey was there, bent over him on the bed and holding his free hand – being careful of his mended finger.

"Harvey," Mike panted and found himself winded, his voice harsh. He felt like he was vibrating. His forehead knit together and he flattened his lips out, trying not to start crying. He wasn't in pain. He wasn't in danger. All of that panic and tension was in the past. He didn't need to cry. "Harvey," he gasped again, this time sucking in air afterward.

"It's okay, Mike. It's-," Harvey trailed off, gently pulling Mike's hand from its vice grip on his shoulder. Mike struggled to look where Harvey was staring, but he already knew what was there – had seen it in the mirror at the hospital.

Mike's sleeve had been pulled down, showing off his shoulder. A two inch scar blotted the skin there, still pink but mostly healed. Harvey reached out slowly to trace around it, and Mike winced in fear of pain that didn't come.

"Minor lacerations," Harvey murmured.

"Harvey." It was the only safe word, the only thing he knew he could say with any sort of assurance that it wouldn't get lost in translation between his brain and his mouth, but it seemed to be the only word he needed.

Harvey looked away from the wound with obvious force of will. His eyes met Mike's, and they were angry and protective and conflicted and that was all it took for Mike not to care about boundaries or what relationship they did or didn't have in the past. He reached out and pulled Harvey down. He was scared and Harvey was safety. Harvey would keep the nightmares at bay.

Unlike last time, Harvey barely hesitated at all before wrapping his arms around Mike. Mike needed this. He needed Harvey. He didn't know what Harvey's motivations were for taking him in after his accident, but Mike needed him. Harvey's voice brought him out of the darkness. Harvey's warmth kept the nightmares away. Harvey's arms stopped his panic.

"Harvey." He mumbled the name into the man's chest. Harvey shook his head, his cheek against Mike's hair, and Mike took a deep breath, holding back the panic still hiding in his throat. Harvey shook his head again, and Mike wondered what words he wasn't saying. What could he even say? Did Mike want him to say anything? No. He wanted Harvey to go back in time and stop him from leaving the office that night – to stop Mike from going home to whatever disaster Trevor had started.

But that was impossible... So right now all Mike wanted was for Harvey to stay with him, to stay with him every night until his memory returned and he could sort this all out. He didn't care how selfish it made him. He needed Harvey here. He couldn't take the nightmares.

Preview chapter 8:

Harvey didn't know what he expected when he walked into work that day, but it definitely wasn't a revolving door of concerned employees. All were asking the same question – how is Mike?

"Maybe Mike knows," Donna suggested and Harvey shot her a dangerous look.

"Mike barely remembers Pearson Hardman. How would he know where Trevor is?" he asked

"Hold up. Say that again," he said.

"Which part? That was kind of a long spiel." Donna's eyes raised up as she went back over everything she'd said in her mind.

"You said he thinks I can fix anything, that I'm his hero," Harvey clarified

He was halfway to the door when Mike spoke again. "Where's Grammy?"