Chapter Text
“This isn’t a good idea, Harvey,” Donna warned him, one cool autumn night early in Mike’s tenure at Pearson Hardman. He’d just sent Mike home after the kid had found a precedent that would blow their case out of the water in court the next day, and he was in a pretty good mood as a result.
“That kid is going to be your undoing one day,” she continued soberly, completely out of sync with his current mindset.
“I know associates are idiots, Donna, but I think I’m competent enough to prevent one overgrown puppy from burning the whole firm to the ground,” Harvey smirked, tossing a baseball with one hand and leaning against his desk with the other.
Donna had her purse slung over her shoulder and she was buttoning up her coat, ready to head home for the evening. She shook her head, expression serious. “I’m not talking about him wrecking the firm — I mean you, Harvey.”
Harvey’s heart rate jumped up slightly — had she somehow uncovered Mike’s secret? — but he schooled his facial expression.
“He hasn’t even had a case in housing court yet. It’s going to take time to mold him into a reflection of me. And hey, at least his suits fit now — that’s a start.”
Donna sighed, exasperated. “I’m not talking about his case record or his outfits or your reputation. I’m talking about the fact that you have had your gaze set on becoming a managing partner of this firm for years now.”
“So? What does Mike have to do with that? I’m going to become managing partner, Donna,” he said with complete certainty. “Hell, I just became the youngest senior partner ever here. Things are going great.”
Donna was unimpressed by his swagger. “You’re adding another variable into the mix, Harvey. You have multiple priorities now — pushing your career forward and protecting the kid.”
“I’m not going to protect Mike Ross, Donna,” he scoffed. “I look out for myself and myself alone.” Upon seeing her expression, he quickly amended his statement. “And you, of course. I look out for you, too.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Harvey. Having that kid around is going to change things, you mark my words.”
Harvey shrugged and dismissed this warning as paranoid.
It wasn’t until a few years later, when Jessica finally asked him to become managing partner, that he truly understood what Donna had been trying to tell him all along.
***
After his mom ran off, Harvey’s dad had become the center of his universe. When Gordon had died during Harvey’s first year of law school, Harvey had been given custody of his fifteen-year-old brother, Marcus.
“You should give him to us, Harvey,” a distant aunt had tried to convince him. “He shouldn’t be crammed into a studio apartment with you while you’re studying 90 hours a week and living off canned soup.”
Harvey’s fingers had twisted angrily in the phone cord. He wasn’t sure what he resented more — the fact that his aunt acted like Marcus was an object to be passed around, or the fact that she was right. He wasn’t the best guardian for his brother. Marcus deserved stability and attention, two things that Harvey couldn’t supply.
He should’ve nodded and sent Marcus to live with Aunt Jess and Uncle Bill in New Hampshire.
But he hadn’t.
***
It was never going to last forever.
Harvey knew this from the start, but he didn’t think about it enough. He pushed it off as a problem for the distant future. He took Mike’s presence for granted.
The cracks began to show after a few months. Rachel, Donna, Jessica, Louis — all either knew Mike’s secret or suspected it to some extent. There were a few close calls. Some of the associates probably wondered why they’d never heard of Mike when they were at Harvard, especially given his uniquely talented mind.
The truth was going to come out eventually, and it was going to end with a jail sentence for Mike.
Harvey should’ve ended it. He should’ve sent Mike packing with a good reference, should’ve used his influence to help him get a job as a consultant or a financial analyst. Something that would put Mike’s keen mind to use and keep him challenged. Something that didn't require a legal degree.
But he hadn’t.
***
“Mike is hiding something,” Donna observed, another late night in Harvey’s office six months after her first warning about Mike’s role in Harvey’s life.
“Yes, Donna,” Harvey said sarcastically. He was thumbing through a contract and only half-listening. “The fact that he’s not a lawyer. We’ve been over this, remember?”
Donna glared. She’d found out Mike’s secret recently and still hadn’t quite forgiven Harvey or Mike from keeping it from her.
“Not that, Harvey. Something else.”
He looked up sharply at this. “Did he get hit by a car while biking again? Because I warned him to tell me if that happened.”
“Harvey,” Donna said. “I’m telling you, that kid has another secret he’s keeping from us all.”
Harvey waved her off. “The kid is an open book, Donna. The only thing he’s hiding is that he loves pop music, and he’s not doing a very good job of hiding it.” He grinned, thinking about how he’d stopped by his associate’s cubicle the other week and heard him passionately tapping his pen and humming along to a Lady Gaga song. (Harvey hadn’t said anything, because he didn’t want to admit that he also knew who Lady Gaga was.)
“Do you know when his birthday is? Do you know how old he is? Has he ever told you anything about his parents?”
Harvey put his pen down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “He had a bad childhood. He’s allowed to be quiet about it.”
Donna sighed. “I hope that’s all it is, Harvey. But I have...a feeling about this.”
Harvey kept his expression neutral, but he felt his stomach sink like a stone. Donna was never wrong when she said she had “a feeling” about something.
But surely she was wrong about Mike hiding something else.
***
There were signs, but Harvey ignored them.
Mike could memorize 700 pages of legal documentation in a single night, but he sheepishly admitted that he didn’t know how to iron after Harvey snapped at him for wearing a wrinkled shirt. Harvey found himself joking, at least once a month, about how Mike’s baby face won over middle-age clients left and right. And — for Christ’s sake; how could he have missed this?! — Donna, examining the hem of Mike’s pants with a critical eye, remarked that it seemed like Mike had grown an inch taller in the time that he’d been at Pearson Hardman.
And then — it was something Harvey didn’t like to think about or remember — there was a time when he and Mike went out to dinner after a long Sunday afternoon of prepping for court the next day.
Harvey was wearing jeans and a sweater, but Mike had shown up at Harvey’s apartment in a suit that afternoon. They worked steadily for hours, building their case and reviewing their arguments. Around 7 PM, feeling struck by an uncharacteristic sense of indulgence, Harvey suggested that they walk to a nearby pub for pizza.
“Careful, Harvey,” Mike beamed, blossoming, as always, from the barest hint of human kindness bestowed upon him. “Someone might think you’re buying me food because you care about me,” he sing-songed obnoxiously.
Harvey rolled his eyes. “No, I care about you not fainting in court tomorrow.”
Mike stuck his tongue out at Harvey then, and it threw Harvey right back to when Marcus was a teenager. Come to think of it, outside of the stiff, professional context of Pearson Hardman, Mike didn’t look too much older than Marcus had after Harvey had taken custody of him, even when wearing a suit.
Brushing this stray thought off, Harvey grabbed his jacket, rolled his eyes when Mike admitted that he hadn’t brought a jacket of his own, and shoved a spare coat at him. Mike pulled it on, and it instantly made him look like a child playing dress-up in his father’s closet. Mike was actually about the same height as Harvey, but he was slimmer, so the tailored jacket dwarfed him.
Chastising himself for all of these odd comparisons, Harvey led the way down the block and to the restaurant.
He watched, half-disgusted and half-impressed, as Mike plowed his way through a medium pizza all by himself before eyeing Harvey’s leftovers hopefully.
“They’re impossible to feed at this age, eh?” The waiter said to Harvey with a friendly wink and a nod in Mike’s direction. “Bottomless pits the size of the Marianas Trench, that’s what I used to say to my wife when our boys were teenagers.”
Harvey gaped at the man for several long seconds before he recovered enough to speak.
“Oh, he’s not — I’m not—”
But the waiter had already dropped the bill in front of Harvey and departed, so his words simply faded into the background chatter of the restaurant, unheard and unacknowledged.
Across the table, Mike cracked up silently.
“Not a word,” Harvey warned sharply, tossing a fifty-dollar bill onto the table and tugging up the zipper of his jacket with more force than strictly necessary. “And shouldn’t you be offended, not me? He wasn’t calling me old; he was calling you young. ”
Something crossed Mike’s face for a minute — something guilty and vulnerable. It was a look that would have Harvey relentlessly pushing for answers if he was in court or deposing someone.
It all seemed so obvious in retrospect, but Harvey missed the signs.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to see them.
***
It all went south at the exact same time, as things always seemed to.
They were working on a case that was teetering on the verge of danger. Jessica had ordered Harvey to take on the trial of a wealthy client’s daughter, Melinda Granger. Melinda claimed that she’d been wrongfully kicked out of medical school due to a false accusation of academic dishonesty, and she wanted to sue the school. It would normally be a very open-and-shut case — the sort of thing that Harvey had handled dozens of times in his career.
But when they had their initial meeting with Ms. Granger and she walked into the conference room at her father’s office, Mike’s hand reached under the table and his fingers clenched around the cuff of Harvey’s jacket in a vice grip for a brief moment. Mike remained unusually silent and pale for the duration of the meeting, not even smirking or scoffing when Ms. Granger not-so-subtly tried to ask Harvey out for drinks.
At one point, Ms. Granger left to get them some water, and Harvey turned to Mike.
“Ex-girlfriend or something?” He asked Mike with a sly grin.
“What? No,” Mike exhaled. He suddenly looked exhausted and frightened. “I took the MCAT for her, Harvey.”
Harvey paused for a moment, pondering the weight of this new variable. “At least that pretty much settles the question of whether or not she actually cheated in her classes.”
“She probably doesn’t remember me,” Mike said with a weak smile. “It was three years ago now.”
Harvey frowned. “I doubt you’ve changed that much since then.”
Mike shrugged ambivalently, picking at a string on the hem of his jacket.
“Stop that,” Harvey ordered. “Did she see you in person?” He asked, although he already knew what the answer was.
“Once,” Mike admitted. “To give me the money.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Harvey assured him, but they both knew his words were vacant — a rarity for Harvey Specter.
And he noticed that she watched Mike with a calculating expression during the second half of their meeting.
***
“I don’t like this,” he muttered to Mike as they left Granger’s and began walking back to the office. It was a chilly day. Mike was wearing a jacket that was too thin, because he was a ridiculous human being that couldn’t seem to take care of himself. Harvey didn’t openly offer any sympathy, but he chose the sunny side of the street for their walk back to Pearson Hardman.
“It’ll be fine,” Mike said with a forced grin. “I’m sure Granger won’t think twice about me.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Mike,” he warned. “You better back off and sit this one out.”
“Harvey!” Mike groaned. “I can do it. She might just get suspicious anyway if you suddenly pull me off the case.”
“I know you can do it, you idiot. But you shouldn’t do it. It’s a massive long-term risk for a short-term problem.”
“It’ll be fine,” Mike said firmly. “Besides, she doesn’t have proof of anything against me. And it would jeopardize her case to admit that I took her exam for her.”
“True, but if she’s unhappy with the outcome of this case and she sends off some kind of anonymous tip about you, someone might look deeper and realize you didn’t go to Harvard.”
Mike’s calm facade began to show some cracks. He tugged at his tie in a way that he only did when he was nervous. Harvey had been attempting to train him out of this annoying tell for the better part of a year now, but it seemed like he’d only made it worse.
“We’ll just have to make sure we win this case, Mike.”
Harvey didn’t mention that they both knew she was guilty of cheating.
***
By unspoken mutual agreement, they both stayed late that night, searching for precedents and poring through the case files.
“You usually make me do all of this research by myself, Harvey,” Mike remarked. “One might think you actually care about me.”
Research always invigorated Mike, and he seemed almost back to his normal self. Harvey would never admit to feeling relieved by this, but he slipped into their usual banter easily.
“I have to deal with enough rambling emails from you at all hours of the night; I don’t even want to know what kind of pen pal letters you’d send me with all that free time in prison.”
“Well, maybe if you actually understood memes, I wouldn’t have to write long emails explaining them to you.”
“Maybe you could just not send me things that aren’t funny in the first place.”
“I’m just saying; I know everyone thinks you’re so cool, but the younger generation is going to think you’re lame if you don’t get with the times.”
Harvey rolled his eyes. “Yes, because I care so much about what teenagers think of me. That’s the crowd I’m trying to impress.”
Mike shrugged in a what-can-you-do sort of way. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, man.”
Harvey shook his head, returning to his work. “Pick an album,” he said a minute later, nodding towards his record collection. He was feeling generous.
Mike’s grin turned into a true smile, and he carefully began to thumb through the records, selecting one and reverently carrying it over to the record player. When John Coltrane began drifting through the office, Mike glanced at Harvey, looking like a child who’d just handed his parents a report card for review.
His gaze was so nakedly eager for Harvey’s approval that Harvey looked away, always discomfited by his associate’s open admiration.
“Back to work,” he said gruffly. The kid needed to toughen up or he’d never make it in the legal world.
You’re the only person he looks at like that, though, a voice in his head that sounded like Donna said.
He glared at her empty desk and went back to work.
***
They still hadn’t found anything three days later, and he could tell that Mike was growing desperate.
“We should check through those emails again. She’s claiming that they discriminated against her because she’s a woman — surely one of these professors did or said something sexist at one point,” Mike said, pacing across his office. It was a Friday night after a week of late nights, and the kid looked a few moments away from collapsing into a dead sleep on the carpet.
“I already checked,” Harvey sighed. “They all came up clean.”
Mike swore under his breath, finally flopping into a seated position on the couch.
“Look, staying here all weekend isn’t going to help our case,” Harvey pointed out. “Go home, eat some real food and sleep.”
“No way! You said that when you have a gun to your head, there are 146 other options. We have to go through all of the options before Monday.”
“Yes, and what do you suppose happens if someone is holding a gun to your head and you faint from hunger and exhaustion?”
Mike looked about half a second away from stamping his foot petulantly. “I’m not going to faint —”
“Out,” Harvey said, grabbing his shoulder and steering him to the door of his office. “I don’t want to see you or hear from you until Monday.”
He ignored Mike’s crestfallen expression. Honestly, it sometimes felt like his associate was 26 going on 16.
***
Mike didn’t show up on Monday morning, however.
“Donna, where are the Gonzalez files?” Harvey called, deftly tossing a baseball and catching it. It was 9 o’clock, and while Mike had been a few minutes late before, he’d never been over an hour late.
“I already called Mike twice, and he didn’t answer,” Donna replied over the intercom, demonstrating her terrifying ability to be two steps ahead of Harvey.
“I didn’t know it took multiple years to house-train a puppy,” he grumbled, half to himself and half for Donna’s benefit.
He grabbed his own phone and texted Mike.
I know you need your beauty rest, kid, but if you’re not here by 9:30, I’m giving all your work to that associate you hate.
It was pretty mild as far as warnings went, but Harvey couldn’t deny that he had a bad feeling about this. Maybe Mike had been cornered by Melinda, or maybe he’d been hit by a car on that stupid deathtrap that he insisted on riding to work.
Maybe —
The phone rang. Harvey waited until the third ring to answer.
“Where the hell —” he started hotly, but he stopped immediately when Mike began babbling on the other end.
“It’s Grammy, Harvey, they’re saying she had a heart attack —”
“Okay, okay, slow down. Are you at the hospital?” Harvey asked.
“I’m riding my bike there now,” Mike sniffed.
“Jesus,” Harvey huffed, imagining Mike weaving carelessly through rush hour traffic while talking on the phone and panicking. “Well, pull over and stop riding right now. Tell me the nearest intersection and Ray will pick you up.”
“I’m fine, Harvey, I’m not that far away —”
“Okay, you know what? If you’re going to protest, I’m going to come along with Ray to ensure that you do as you’re told.”
Donna looked torn between laughter and concern.
Mike was silent for a second. “Harvey, I’m fine. You don’t need to —”
“Address. Now. I’ve put a large investment of time into training you, I won’t have you dying in a bike accident. It’s not dignified.”
Mike sighed and grumbled an address.
“I’m pretty sure Ray could’ve handled picking Mike up and taking him to the emergency room, Harvey,” Donna said in a knowing tone that he hated to have directed at him. “But I think it’s sweet that you’re going to go sit with him. I’ll cancel your meetings.”
She smiled beatifically and left before he could finish spluttering a weak rebuttal.
***
They didn’t hear anything until 4 PM. After a tense morning, Mike had been allowed to see Edith briefly, and then she’d been taken in for emergency surgery. Harvey had spent most of the day replying to emails on his phone and reading paperwork that he’d brought with him. Mike had been frantically reading about heart attacks, until a nurse finally arrived to tell them that Edith was awake and doing well after her surgery.
Mike bolted upright and practically sprinted after the nurse. He turned around at the threshold of the emergency room, however, frowning back at Harvey.
“Aren’t you coming?” He asked.
Harvey paused for a moment before slowly rising and following after his associate. It took him another minute to realize that he felt...nervous. He didn’t like hospitals — it reminded him too much of when his dad had died. But he was also nervous to meet Edith Ross.
Probably because it was easier to keep his distance from his associate when said associate’s problems were merely hypothetical, instead of flesh-and-blood people.
He straightened his tie before following Mike into the ICU room.
Edith Ross was lying in a hospital bed, wrapped in tubes and looking tiny and frail. Harvey was easily able to school his expression into something neutral from years of practice in court, but internally, his heart sank as he took in her pallor and raspy breathing.
Since Mike was only in his twenties, he’d been hoping that Edith Ross was still relatively young and in good health. But perhaps she’d had children at a late age, or maybe Mike’s parents had had him at a late age, because the woman on the bed must’ve been in her eighties. And even though she’d made it through today’s heart attack, Harvey guessed she didn’t have much longer to live.
He wondered if Mike knew all this or not. His associate was a blur of nervous motion, adjusting his grandmother’s blanket, peering at all of her monitors with a worried frown, and holding a cup of water and straw up to her lips.
When she was finished drinking, she turned her head slowly toward Harvey. “Now, Michael,” she rasped. He and Mike both had to lean forward slightly to hear her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to my visitor?”
Mike jolted in surprise, as though he’d completely forgotten Harvey was there in his worry for his grandmother. “This is Harvey, Grammy. Harvey Specter.”
“Ah, of course. So this is the famous Harvey Specter I’ve heard so much about?”
The tips of Mike’s ears went pink, and Harvey smirked. “Famous, eh?”
“She means infamous, because I complain about you so much,” Mike grumbled.
Edith smiled, but she looked exhausted. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a few seconds before she seemed to jerk herself awake with some effort.
“Michael, would you run and ask the nurse for an extra blanket? I’m feeling rather cold.”
Mike almost tripped in his rush to accommodate her request, nodding and vowing to find her at least three of the hospital’s warmest blankets.
Edith smiled fondly after him as he left the room before her gaze shifted to Harvey, growing serious.
“Mr. Specter —”
“Harvey,” he interjected.
She nodded. “Harvey. Look after him, will you?”
Harvey shook his head, denial automatically rising to his lips. “Mrs. Ross, I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet again —”
But she held up a hand to stop him. He recognized the intelligent light in her blue eyes.
“I don’t have much time, Harvey. I survived this heart attack, but the doctor says I have congestive heart failure. Mike is going to have a hard road ahead of him, and he’s going to be alone.”
“I’m sure Mike’s friends will —”
But his words trailed off, sounding stupid and vacant even to himself. Mike’s friends? Like that selfish idiot Trevor?
“He needs you, Harvey. He still won’t tell me exactly what kind of work he’s doing for you, but such a change has come over him this past year. It’s the first time in six years that I’ve seen him genuinely happy. You’ve given him a purpose, and he’s going to need that purpose in order to keep moving forward when I’m gone.”
This speech seemed to have cost her dearly, and she sank back into her pillows, looking wan and exhausted.
“Promise me, Harvey,” she whispered, her expression imploring. Harvey, who had stared down countless hostile lawyers and clients and judges, had a hard time holding her gaze.
He’s not my responsibility, Harvey wanted to snap. He’d already given Mike a job — plucked him from tough circumstances and given him the chance to turn it all around. What more could he possibly owe his associate?
The door swung open and Mike hurried in, but Edith’s gaze never left Harvey’s.
Finally, Harvey blinked and looked away, giving a small nod. As he pushed back his chair and stood, he reassured himself that the promise wasn’t binding — he knew contract law inside and out, after all, and a head nod to a vague verbal question meant absolutely nothing under the law.
“Looking after Mike” could entail any number of things. When Edith did pass away, Harvey could make sure Mike got time off for her funeral, and that alone would be “looking after him.”
It didn’t have to mean anything. Mike could fend for himself.
“You’re going?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” Harvey said, pulling on his jacket. “I have court in the morning.” And several meetings to make up for that he’d missed today, although he didn’t mention that.
Mike nodded, looking anxiously between Harvey and his grandmother. “I might be a bit late —”
Harvey shook his head. “You’re off work the rest of the week. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Mike opened his mouth to protest, then looked at his grandmother and seemed to think better of it. “Thanks,” he said simply.
Harvey just nodded. As he exited the room, he pulled out his phone and called a client who’d left him a voicemail earlier.
Work was a useful distraction, but he couldn’t quite shake the foreboding feeling that settled over him as he left the hospital.
He had a sense that something monumental had just occurred, and he couldn’t feel the aftershocks or understand the true extent of the fallout yet, but it was coming for him soon.
***
Harvey dove into his work the next few days, thankful for how busy he was.
Things weren’t going well with the Melinda Granger case, however, which made it hard not to think of his associate.
He had a meeting with her on Thursday afternoon, and he could tell she was displeased by the argument he planned to present to the school’s lawyers the next day.
“Listen, my parents don’t pay an exorbitant retainer fee so you can throw a Hail Mary at the wall and hope it sticks,” she told him. ”I want at least $1 million for my troubles.”
Harvey bit back his frustration and impatience. Not only was Melinda guilty, she came from wealth and had no need of more money.
“I’ll do my best to make it happen,” he told her, plastering his best “number one closer” smile on his face.
“No, you won’t do your best to make it happen, you’ll make it happen. Or else.”
Harvey’s eyebrows shot up and he assessed his client carefully, surprised by the shift in the conversation’s tone. He was an expert judge of body language and character, and the way that Melinda was leaning back in her seat and smirking at him reminded him of a predator toying with its food.
“Or else what?” He asked, injecting levity that he didn’t feel into his tone. “You’ll go to your parents and complain? They didn’t seem too happy with you the last time I spoke with them, Ms. Granger.”
She skillfully ignored the dig — maybe she should consider cheating her way into law school when this was all said and done.
“Or else,” she said, drawing the words out smugly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to let your little secret slip — perhaps to someone here at Pearson Hardman. Or perhaps to someone from the media — who knows?”
Harvey’s blood turned to ice in his veins. He could see it all in an instant — headlines questioning the firm’s legitimacy, casting doubt on every case Harvey had ever touched before. Mike in an orange jumpsuit, being carted off to prison.
He’d found himself backed into all sorts of corners before, but it was surprisingly hard to put on his mask and keep the conversation going this time.
“I don’t know what you're talking about, Ms. Granger,” he said with as much detached calm as he could muster. “There is no secret.”
“No?” She asked, quirking one expertly plucked eyebrow. “I met Mike Ross a few years ago; did he tell you that?”
“My associate’s personal life is none of my concern, Ms. Granger. If you have some sort of conflict of interest with Mike, I can assure you that he is no longer involved in your case.”
She continued, like a spider spinning a web to encircle its prey. “I have to admit; I was absolutely shocked when I saw him here. I mean, my parents pay big bucks to keep this firm on retainer, and you expect a certain level of professionalism, you know? But as it turns out, Pearson Hardman is perfectly fine with bending the rules to suit its needs. A child masquerading as a lawyer; that’s got to be a first. How many child labor laws do you think this firm has broken in the past year, Mr. Specter?”
Harvey didn’t want to give her any sort of reaction — clearly she’d use whatever he gave her against him. But he couldn’t help the way his brows drew together with confusion — he’d been expecting accusations of fraud, not a non sequitur about child labor law violations. Maybe it was a good thing — maybe she was just off her rocker and had nothing solid on Mike —
“Oh my god,” she giggled. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Ms. Granger, I think it’d be best if you were on your way for the evening,” Harvey said firmly, standing with the intention of shepherding her out of his office.
She stood too, but she made no move to leave.
“Your associate,” she whispered as though it was a delicious secret, “is a child.”
Harvey could only stare at her for a few seconds, and then he let out a startled laugh.
“Is that supposed to be a joke, Ms. Granger? That’s what this is all about? Mike has a baby face; I’ll give you that — but he’s no child.”
He wondered how she’d gotten the idea in her head in the first place. It was preposterous — Donna’s hair was red. Harvey loved the Knicks. Mike was 20-something years old. These were all basic facts of the universe that required no further thought or cross-examination.
“I’m afraid I’m quite serious, Mr. Specter. You’re forgetting that I’m the one who knew him three years ago. You want to know how I know I’m right?”
Half of Harvey didn’t want to hear this insane drivel, another part of him was intrigued. She sounded so firm in her convictions — so utterly convinced that she was correct.
She took his silence as an acquiescence to continue.
“His voice was still cracking the last time I saw him. And he was a good six inches shorter than he is now — maybe more. But you know the real kicker? He got off the bus for a local middle school when I met him to pay him.”
Harvey automatically shook his head in denial. She had confused Mike with someone else. She —
“Don’t believe me? Try Google, Mr. Specter. It was surprisingly easy to confirm — you might want to do something about that if you intend to keep this little secret.”
With that, she wrapped her talons around her designer purse, rose to her feet and walked away, her heels clicking, giving a final mocking wave before disappearing toward the elevator bank.
Harvey leaned against his desk and watched the lights of the city flicker outside, deep in thought.
This was…absurd. Stupid to even entertain. He would know if Mike was underage. He’d broken the law by hiring Mike, sure, but he hadn’t broken any child labor laws.
He let out a snort, dismissing the idea entirely. He decided to put this case completely out of his mind for the time being, returning to his chair and grabbing the stack of files that had been growing in the corner of his desk all week with Mike’s absence. The workday was over, but he was too troubled to go home and sit on his couch. He wanted the distraction of work — he craved the escape it provided him from his thoughts.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and began to read.
Except no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sink into his usual state of focus. The world didn’t fade from around him; he didn't lose track of time. Instead, he read the same paragraph five times in a row, not absorbing any of it, Melinda’s words running through his brain like a loop.
Voice cracking.
Six inches shorter.
Middle school.
Voice cracking.
Six inches shorter—
Something else was jumping to the surface of his memory.
What had Mike’s grandma said?
It’s the first time in six years that I’ve seen him genuinely happy.
Six years. Six inches shorter.
Six years.
Something about that statement had stuck out to Harvey when he’d heard it, but he hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
And yet…the math didn’t add up. Why had Edith said six years? If Mike was in his 20s and his parents had died when he was 11, shouldn’t she have said 10 years — at least?
It was probably nothing — maybe Edith had been confused at the time, given her recent surgery. Or maybe something else had happened six years ago that had a negative impact on Mike.
And yet…Harvey was trained to notice little details like that and follow them to their natural conclusion.
He felt foolish for wasting time on this nonsense, but he opened a private browsing window on his computer and went to Google. He had to know. He typed in Mike’s name, pressed enter, and held his breath.
The results were…completely underwhelming, much to Harvey’s relief. Mike Ross was a very common name, and the top hits were for a state senator in Florida, an amateur musician, and a professor at the University of Maryland.
Still, Harvey could admit that he wasn’t the most tech-savvy. He could be overlooking something. What he really needed was information about Mike’s parents and their deaths, but he didn’t know their names.
Wracking his brain, he leaned back in his chair. For someone so gregarious and open, Mike was surprisingly good at keeping the specific details of his life private. All he knew was that Mike’s parents died when he was 11 in a car accident. Their names weren’t something that would come up in everyday conversation, and Pearson Hardman wouldn’t have that kind of information in an employee’s file.
He could employ Vanessa to track the information down for him, of course, but he doubted it would be worth her time or effort to undertake such a wild goose chase.
His eyes fell on the record player, and he froze in place as a memory occurred to him.
Mike had been perusing through Harvey’s record collection one day early in his tenure at Pearson Hardman, and he’d paused on a Nina Simone one.
“My parents loved Nina Simone,” he’d said with a smile that was tinged with sadness. “My mom’s name was Nina.”
Harvey had let out a vague, disinterested hum and kept working — he hadn’t wanted to encourage that kind of closeness and familiarity with the kid, but clearly the moment had made an impression on him, because he still recalled it months later.
Before he could think too much about it, he typed ‘Nina Ross’ into the search bar.
This time, it was in the top few results that popped up on his browser. An obituary for Nina Ross. An article about a drunk driver killing two people in a head-on collision.
His stomach in knots, Harvey clicked on the article.
He drew back in his seat, shocked to find himself confronted with the image of 11-year-old Mike, smiling with his parents in a photo that must have been taken just months or weeks before their deaths. His associate was unmistakable, with his sandy hair and toothy grin, his smile untouched by the impending tragedy.
The victims, James and Nina Ross, are pictured here with their son Mike, 11, who escaped the collision with minor injuries.
The article’s dateline was from 2006. Harvey read and re-read that year over and over again, unable to deny the horrible truth that was dawning on him.
His associate was not only a fake lawyer — he was also 17 years old.
***
Mike had a truly unfortunate sense of timing — it would almost be comedic if Harvey wasn’t so pissed off.
“Oh, hey,” he said casually, wandering into Harvey’s office around 10:30 p.m. that night. “I didn’t think you’d still be here this late. Grammy got discharged today and she’s all settled in at the nursing home, so I figured I’d come in and get some work done.”
Mike was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie that had seen better days. Seeing him dressed like that in this polished, professional space was jarring, and he understood why Mike was always careful to wear suits no matter the day of the week or the setting. He looked like a high schooler visiting the firm on a field trip or a career day.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked obliviously, frowning as he took in Harvey’s expression. “You could’ve called me if something was up with a case —”
“Shut the door,” Harvey ordered.
Mike gave him a nervous, searching glance, hurrying to comply. “Oookay,” he said, drawing the word out. “Sounds like I’m in trouble. Am I in trouble? Listen, if this is about the thing with Louis and the bean dip last week, that was not my idea; it was Gregory’s.”
Mike’s rambling might’ve amused him on a different day, but now it just stoked the flames of his anger and betrayal.
“This isn’t a joke, Mike,” he snapped, watching as Mike stiffened. “Cut the bullshit. I know.”
He watched his associate’s reaction carefully. Mike might not have the best poker face ever, but he’d picked up a thing or two during his time at Pearson Hardman. Still, the way he tugged at the strings of his hoodie (in place of his usual tie) was a dead giveaway.
“The whole…the whole not being a lawyer thing? You’re just realizing that? Wow, and I thought Louis was slow to catch on,” Mike joked weakly.
Wordlessly, Harvey spun his screen around to reveal the damning article. Mike flinched at the sight of himself and his parents. It was probably a low blow on Harvey’s part, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I — I can explain. It’s not what it looks like —”
“Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like. Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t lie to me about your age.”
Mike’s eyes darted up to meet Harvey’s. For a second, the two of them stared at each other. Then Mike…Mike blinked and looked away, not denying it.
Harvey could hardly believe it. For the past few hours, some part of him had prayed that this was all just a misunderstanding. He felt that hope rapidly crumbling as the irrefutable truth began to sink in.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He shouted, slamming a palm on his desk as he rose to his feet, unable to contain himself.
Mike shifted nervously, his hands raised apologetically. “It — it got out of hand, okay? I told myself that it would just be for a month or two — just enough to save enough money for Grammy’s care and to pay for rent until I turned eighteen. Then I’d quit. But —”
“But what? Putting me in a position to be arrested and disbarred wasn’t enough for you? You wanted me to break child labor laws too?!”
Moving out of pure habit — from years of practice at intimidating some of the most powerful people in New York City — he stepped forward into Mike’s personal space.
Mike took a shaky half-step back, his eyes wide and pleading and so, so young.
And holy shit, Harvey was such an idiot for not seeing the truth sooner.
“I’m sorry,” Mike whispered, and his voice cracked tearfully. “I’m so sorry, Harvey. I never meant for things to go this far. What you’ve done for me—”
“You lied to me,” Harvey thundered.
“I wanted to tell you the truth —”
“You can never be a lawyer here. Even if you go to law school and pass the bar someday, New York is dead to you. Pearson Hardman is dead to you. The entire East Coast is dead to you. I’m dead to you.”
It would only take one client recognizing Mike one time to topple the whole house of cards.
Mike shook his head despairingly, his eyes glistening. It made Harvey feel like an asshole, which made him even angrier.
“I didn’t have any other choice, Harvey,” Mike whispered. “My grammy’s care costs a fortune. And if child services found out how unwell she is —”
“That’s not my problem anymore. You are not my problem anymore. We're done. Now go,” he commanded, pointing at the door.
A clean break was for the best, he told himself.
He turned away, staring hard out the window. “You’re young and smart,” he said, forcibly reining in his temper. “You’ll land on your feet.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Harvey,” Mike spat out suddenly. “You’re just like the rest of them. ‘Oh, Mike, you’re so full of potential —’ ‘You’re going to go far with that brain —’ — but meanwhile, nobody gives a shit about how I’m actually supposed to ‘meet my full potential’ when I can’t even afford to keep the lights on because my grandma needs physical therapy and medications and tests —”
Clean break, Harvey reminded himself.
“The law doesn’t care about your sob story, Mike,” he said coldly. “And neither do I.”
Mike gaped at him, hurt plain on his face in the reflection Harvey could see in the window glass.
“You know what? Fuck you, Harvey. I don’t need you, and I never needed you!”
Harvey whirled around, stunned by the disrespect. After all he’d done for Mike this past year — after the way he’d put his neck on the line to hire him and keep his secret — Mike dared —
Mike looked poised for a fight, his chin jutting out defiantly and his fists clenched, his stance all teenage rebellion.
“Out, ” Harvey ordered, clinging to his rapidly fraying control before he said or did something he would regret. “Out. Don’t return here again, you hear me? You are never, ever allowed to set foot in this building again. We’re done. ”
Mike remained frozen in place for a long, painful moment. Then he turned and left, his head bowed. He didn’t look back.
Harvey wondered where Mike would go — what he’d do now — how he’d support himself and his grandmother —
Not your problem anymore, he reminded himself firmly.
***
Looking back later, Harvey could never remember what he said or did to get Melinda Granger her million-dollar settlement. It was a complete blur in his memory.
But he did it, because he was New York’s best closer.
He was pretty sure he went with Mike’s original plan — pressuring the university to consider how bad such a lawsuit would look if it went public, even if they all knew Melinda had cheated. In the end, it was easier for them to settle than to fight.
He’d gotten Melinda her money, and then he strongarmed her (by threatening to tell her parents the truth about the cheating) into signing an NDA so airtight that she’d be sorry if she ever uttered the name “Mike Ross” again in her lifetime.
After the settlement meeting, Harvey went home. It was late, but he couldn't sleep. So he slipped into workout clothes and hit his usual running path. He tried to fall into the mindless rhythm of exercise, but it didn't quite work.
Eventually he ended up pacing around by the pond in the park, his thoughts racing around in circles.
How could this have happened?
He’d always known that Mike was probably a few years younger than the other associates, but he’d assumed he was at least 22 or 23. With such a brilliant mind, it made sense that he might’ve skipped several grades as a kid. And Harvey knew that he hadn’t actually attended law school, so on some level, he’d recognized that Mike probably wasn’t 26 or 27 like the rest of the associates.
Maybe subconsciously he’d wondered if Mike was even younger than 22 or 23, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. After all, he already felt enough guilt that he was putting Mike in a position to be arrested. He’d known that he should call it quits — that the longer Mike stayed at Pearson Hardman, the higher the risks grew. That guilt was part of the reason why he’d avoided meeting Edith Ross for the past year — he hadn’t wanted to look her in the eye knowing that he was putting her grandson in a position to earn a prison sentence of 5-10 years for fraud.
But at least he’d thought Mike was an adult who could make his own choices and steer the course of his own life. Knowing what he knew now…
God, the entire rest of Mike’s life could get screwed up if this ever got out. For that to happen to a kid, just seventeen years old, full of so much potential…
It felt wrong to cut Mike loose and walk away. Over the past year, it had become second nature to step in and bail Mike out. But wasn’t that what had gotten them into this mess in the first place?
Harvey had known from the start that this arrangement couldn’t last. As much as Mike’s memory and quick mind were incredible assets, his lack of credentials was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in their faces.
Mike is young and talented. He has a bright future ahead of him. He’ll be fine without me.
These words had become like a mantra the past few days. Maybe if he repeated them enough, he’d start to believe them.