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It was just a normal day for Mike Ross.
It wasn’t anything anybody needed to worry about, nothing at all. Nope. Nada.
Except when his hand hesitates on the door handle of Ray’s Mercedes for a second, then two seconds, then three, Harvey knows something’s up.
And when Mike’s eyes go cloudy, the way they do when his head fills with picture perfect memories that are usually beneficial, like when he remembers a tiny, life altering detail in a case file, or the exact serial number on a document, Harvey gets concerned.
Mikes breathing has picked up, his hands started shaking and his skin is pale and sweaty. Harvey takes a step closer, raising a hand to his associates shoulder.
His breathing is ragged now, inconsistently consistent. His head is shaking absentmindedly, tiny shakes like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. Harvey’s pretty sure he isn’t.
Mike takes a shaky step away from the car. Bad idea.
His legs give out, his traitorous knees buckling, sending him to the ground almost immediately.
Harvey reacts quick, reaching out with him other hand and slipping it behind Mike’s back, stopping him just short of the grimy sidewalk.
“Mike?” He asked, staring into the watery blue eyes.
Mike is muttering to himself, something that sounds like ‘nononono’ over and over again, and his voice is quivering and his hands are still shaking and he makes no sign that he even knows where he is.
He probably doesn’t.
~•*•*•~
He’s in the back seat of the car. His seatbelt is digging uncomfortably into the skin of his neck.
His forehead is pressed up against the cold car window, he’s watching two droplets of water competing to reach the bottom of the glass. Rain is tearing down on the car, a drumbeat of droplets hits the metal roof at a rapid pace like a snare.
It’s gray outside. Lights of the city are flashing by and he can hear the sound of tires driving through water.
His parents are in the front seat. His dad behind the wheel, seatbelt tucked behind his back, shrugged away due to discomfort but not unbuckled.
Useless now, either way.
His mother is crying, her seatbelt isn’t on, never is when she’s in the car.
She’s screaming something, something that sounds like it could shatter the windows if it weren’t for the competition of the swirling wind that was currently trying to shove their vehicle off the road.
His father yells back, taking his hands off the wheel to gesture angrily.
The windshield wipers are frantically trying to keep up with the water, swishing and swooshing, back and forth, but they’re really doing no good.
The windshield is still drenched, and the best Michael can make out of it is colorful shapes and bright lights of approaching and receding vehicles.
The screaming is loud, it usually is, even from his bedroom he could usually hear it.
But surrounding screams don’t drown out the loud, sudden, scream from his mother.
“JAMES!”
His father throws his hands back onto the wheel but it’s no use.
Headlights are approaching rapidly and Mike can tell that they’re not on the right side of the road anymore.
He tried to turn the wheel, but Mike knows it’s no use. They’re hydroplaning. The car in front of them doesn’t slow, doesn’t turn, it keeps coming at a rapid pace, and all Mike hears is the deafening scream of his mother.
~•*•*•~
Mike can vaguely feel hands on his shoulders, squeezing him hard enough to feel a little uncomfortable, not that he can tell.
His head is spinning and his ears are ringing with the sound of his mother’s screams. He hears a steady ‘nonono’ and thinks it might be coming from him.
“Mike, breathe, kid. You’re alright, I’m right here, you’re safe.” He hears muffled words from in front of him, probably the source of the hands on his shoulders. He blinks slowly, clearing the fog from his vision.
He’s on the ground, there are people, people walking past, rushing to get to their locations. There’s a person, one, right in front of him. His hair is neat and his suit is pressed and clean.
“Mike, you need to breathe!” The person urges. Mike looks down at his chest, expecting to see blood, or water, or a restricting seatbelt strapped across it, but he sees nothing. No movement, no breathing.
Oh.
He should do that.
He brings a hand to his throat, massaging it roughly. He can still feel the bump from the seatbelt scar, still feel the phantom pain of the rough fabric slicing into his skin.
He lets in a sudden intake of air. It stings his throat and his lungs as it makes its way through his body.
“Good. That’s good Mike, take another one for me, okay?” The voice asks, something scarily close to concern seeping through the vibrations.
He takes another breath, and then another, and then the world slows its spinning and his chest is moving again. He can still feel the pain in his throat, but when he pulls his hand away from the long pink scar, there’s no blood lingering on his fingers like he expected.
He looks around him, head swiveling, trying to find the source of the voice.
He stops when he sees it. The familiar face with an unfamiliar expression woven into it.
“Mike?”
Oh.
“Harvey?” His voice sounds raw, displaced, unused. Or maybe overly used. He doesn’t know.
“Hey, Mike.” Harvey exhales, his shoulders dropping with relief. His face is still screwed up in a twist of fear and concern, but he looks a little less pale now.
“What…?” He trails off, swiveling his head again to check his surroundings.
People are still rushing by, taxis are being called. Ray is leaning against the Mercedes with his arms crossed, looking like he wants to run up to Mike and ask a billion questions.
But there’s no rain. No screaming. No blood, no fire, no smell of gas, or loud booms that echo through his ears.
“—ike!”
He snaps his head forward, his hand has somehow found its way back onto his throat and he’s running his fingers over the pink scar again.
Harvey’s eyes are reflecting his own fear, probably for a different reason.
“Mike, can you stand up?” Harvey asks him, his hands sliding down from his shoulders to his biceps.
Mike nods, not moving his hand away from his neck. Harvey’s eyes catch the peculiar placement but he doesn’t say anything about it.
He stands up, leaning on Harvey with more weight than he’d like to.
When Harvey moves him to the car again, Mike stops. Harvey turns his head, raising a questioning eyebrow, but Mike just shakes his head rapidly, eyes locked on the passenger door.
“No.” He rasps out. “No I’m not getting in there.” He says, taking a step away from the car, Harvey following.
“Mike I’m going to bring you back to my apartment—“
“No Harvey, we…you cant— I’m not getting in that car- w-we’ll crash, we could get hurt- or, or we could die or—“
Harvey cuts off Mike’s rambling, understanding dawning on him later than he’d like to admit.
“Okay. Okay Mike, we won’t get into the car.” He soothes, voice softer than he’s ever heard it himself. He casts a glance a Ray, who frowns slightly but nods anyway, walking around the vehicle and sitting in the drivers seat.
When the engine starts, Mike flinches under Harvey’s hands, but doesn’t move as he watches the car pull away.
“Alright, Mike, c’mon.” Harvey slings one of Mike’s arms around his shoulders and wraps his own arm around his waist.
Mike doesn’t say anything, just nods as he runs his fingers across the scar again and starts taking steps in the direction of Harvey’s apartment.
~•*•*•~
Harvey kicks the door closed with his foot and walks Mike over to the couch in his living room.
He lets Mike collapse onto the cushions and sits beside him, slipping off his shoes with his toes. He discards his suit jacket on the back of the sofa and slips Mike out of his own.
He glances at Mike’s hand whilst he does so, he only moves it off his neck when he has to raise the hand to slip out of his sleeve, but it goes right back when he’s done.
“Mike, are you with me?”
Mike nods, but his eyes are still foggy and his posture is stiff.
He slides a hand onto Mikes cheek and turns his face in his direction. Mike blinks slowly as his eyes focus back on the present.
“Hm?” Mike hums, tilting his head curiously at his boss.
“Mike, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Harvey asks carefully, not wanting to trigger another panic button or whatever it is that sends Mike crashing back into his memories.
“Mm? Yeah…sure…” he says, fingers running up and down what Harvey now sees to be a raised pink scar, stretching diagonally across his throat, close to his collarbones.
“Can you tell me what this is from?” Harvey asks, gesturing to the scar. Mike looks up, narrows his eyes, but nods in the end.
“My…my mom and dad…” he starts, scrunching up his eyebrows in a moment of thought. “They died, when I was eleven, in…in a car crash…” he says quietly, a moment of vulnerability Harvey has never seen from his genius associate.
Harvey’s breath hitches slightly, but he listens to his rookie.
“They- it was raining, heavy, and they were screaming at each other…they were always screaming,” he says, “usually about me. What school should I go to, what friends I have, whether or not I’m an inconvenience,” he grumbles, his eyes screw up again. Harvey runs a thumb across his cheek, drawing his attention back to him.
“It was raining, and loud, and windy. And my seatbelt was too tight. It locked after I got in the car…I reached across the seats for something…a book, I think.” He says thoughtfully.
Harvey places a hand on Mikes thigh and squeezes it gently.
He’d deduced that the trigger of the panic attack was getting into the car, even though Harvey had sat in that same vehicle with Mike on plenty of different occasions.
But he didn’t know this. And his listening ears were cranked up.
“My mom was screaming, loudly I think, but not as loud as when she screamed for him.” He says. Him. His dad, probably.
“And then what, Mike?” He asks softly.
Mike looks into Harvey’s eyes. The pain his those beautiful blue eyes is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Seeping and raw. Clear like a chest that had been cracked open only to spill out rocks and dirt instead of coins and rubys.
“And then we kept going. We didn’t stop, we didn’t slow down, we didn’t move out of the way. We just kept going, until we hit the car in front of us.” Mike says, voice flat but full of an emotion he hasn’t had much experience with.
Anger.
“He didn’t do anything. The car crashed. Into a police car, can you believe that? My parents died and crashed into a police car on their way out.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head.
“Mike…”
“And then, next thing I know, the car is on its side. My mom isn’t there, there’s a hole in the windshield, my dad is slumped over and bleeding from…everywhere.” He says, his eyes foggy again.
~•*•*•~
The rain is louder now. He’s screaming, he thinks, but he can’t hear it. He can’t see him mother, his father isn’t answering him anymore.
His neck hurts but he can’t move it. He’s cold, and wet.
He can smell gasoline.
He thinks he hears sirens in the distance, but he might be hallucinating. His classmates tell him he’s crazy sometimes.
He thinks he’s bleeding, because the windows aren’t open but his clothes are soggy. He can’t look down though, his neck is held in place.
He hears voices around him. Strong sounding, gruff. Like his dad. His dad, who’s not answering him.
“…driver is unresponsive…”
“…kid in the back…”
“…get the crowbar…”
The door above him…wait, that should be next to him…no matter, because it’s being pried off the hinges with a screeching sound that overpowers the wind and reminds him of his mothers screams.
Where is she anyway?
A head peeks in through the gap in the vehicle, a bright yellow helmet in covering his face.
“Hey, kid! My name is Marcus, I’m a firefighter. Can you tell me your name?” Marcus yells at him, but Mike can’t turn his head to look.
He tries to speak but it comes out in gurgles and his throat hurts again and is that blood?
“Okay, okay.” Marcus says, “can you move your hands, kid?” He asks through the wind.
Mike tries. His hands move up and he shows them to the firefighter.
“Awesome, kid. Can you try to unbuckle your seatbelt for me?” He asks loudly.
Mike moves his hands down to where he knows the buckle sits. He pushes on the little red button until it clicks and suddenly the pain in his neck is enough to send him screaming.
The belt is zipping across his body. It’s digging into his throat like a razor, retracting like one of his dad’s tape measures.
He hears the firefighter swear, loud enough for him to hear past his screams.
The pain recedes suddenly, not gone, but less active, and he realizes that the seatbelt isn’t pressing against him anymore.
“Great job, kid! Good, can you try to stand up for me?” Marcus asks him, and Mike just wants his mom, so he listens to the man.
Maybe his mom is out there.
His hands find the ground, which is covered in glass that scrapes against his palms, but he pushes himself to his feet anyway. His throat hurts and he can’t turn his head without screaming out, so he doesn’t do that.
“Okay, I need you to trust me, kid, and lift up your arms for me.” Marcus says, and Michael does it. He lifts up his arms and he feels gloved fingers wrap around his wrists, and suddenly he’s being pulled up up up.
He gasps in a breath of the fresh air, sending another spike of pain down his throat.
Marcus is carrying him, he’s running away from the car. He can vaguely feel stabbing pains shooting through his leg, but he ignores that.
Marcus runs by another car, this one is upright, normal. Its lights are flashing and the front is crumpled in.
Just as he registers being set in an ambulance, he hears a terrifying boom from where he just escaped, and his face is suddenly too warm and everything is suddenly too bright.
His eyes scan everything urgently.
His car is on fire, the rain isn’t doing its job, it’s not putting it out. He sees his dad, he’s not moving, not screaming like you’re supposed to when your entire body is aflame.
Mike doesn’t scream. He has a large piece of gauze pressed to his throat and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
He thinks there’s something wrong with his leg, and when he looks down he sees the biggest piece of glass he’s ever seen, and it’s lodged into the outside of his thigh and it’s stuck all the way in, exiting through his knee.
He looks up to stop himself from gagging.
Firefighters are running around, a few are working together to hold a hose that’s pointed toward where the car just exploded. Marcus is sitting next to him, and a large lady is inspecting his throat and his leg.
Mike taps Marcus’s leg, and he pulls off his helmet and looks down.
His hair is brown and messy, he looks about 24 and he has handsome features and brown eyes.
“You okay kid?” He asks him, but Mike doesn’t respond. He can’t speak right now. He just holds his hand out expectantly and nods when Marcus places his arm there.
He turns Marcus’s hand around so his palm is facing up and writes shaky letters into his palm.
‘M O M ?’
Marcus frowns and gives him a sorrowful look.
“If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you what I know.” He negotiates. Mike nods and writes.
‘M I C H A E L R O S S’
Marcus nods.
“Okay Michael.” He says. “Your father is in that car right now, the one we just put out. My buddies are extracting him. Your mother was not wearing her seatbelt when you crashed, and she must have went through the windshield.” He explains, his hand is rubbing circles in Mike’s back.
Mike nods. He thought as much.
‘D E A D ?’ He writes, and watches Marcus’s face screw up.
“Mike, I believe your father is dead. I do not know anything else about your mother.” He says.
Mike just nods and lets go of Marcus’s hand.
Marcus’s walkee goes off.
“…Specter this is Carson, I’ve got a female, code 30, are you on scene and able to make your way to me?…”
“…this is Specter confirming on scene, I’ll be right there…”
Marcus stands up and gives Mike a fist bump before turning and walking into the rain.
~•*•*•~
Harvey stares at Mike with a fist covering his mouth and his eyes watering.
Marcus.
“Mike.” His voice is shaking in that way it rarely does.
Mike looks up from where his was rubbing his knee.
“Hm?”
“The firefighter. Marcus…” he says, clearing the rasp out of his voice. “Did you hear his last name?”
Mike looks at him with furrowed brows for a second before his eyes go hazy again.
When Mike snaps out of it, he looks up at Harvey with wide, shimmering eyes.
“Oh my god.” He says, voice quivering. His hands are shaking again so Harvey reaches out and takes them in his own.
“Mike, what was it?” He asks quietly, searching Mike’s pale face.
“He- his walkee went off in the ambulance…he was called to my
mother—“ Mikes voice cracks on the last word and his eyes fill with tears.
Harvey’s breath hitches and he reaches out to cradle Mike’s cheek.
“…Specter, this is Carson, I’ve got a female, code 30, are you on scene and able to make your way to me?” Mike says slowly, the words roll off his tongue slowly, like he’s taken aback that he remembers them. Harvey looks into Mike’s eyes, Mike keeps speaking. “…this is Specter confirming on scene, I’ll be right there…” he says softly, looking into Harvey’s watering eyes.
Harvey takes a huge, slow breath.
“I think my brother saved your life that day, Mike.” He tells him, his voice slightly raspy but laced with pride.
Mike nods his head, tears spilling freely out of his eyes.
“code 30,” Mike says, “victim deceased. I read that, when I was ten, in a book I got from the library.” He shakes his head and brings a hand to the scar on his neck again.
“I’ve remembered them longer than I’ve known them.” He says, his voice isn’t louder than a whisper.
“Oh, Mike…” Harvey whispers. And the dam breaks. Mike is crying, sobbing actually. His throat is raw and tears are streaming down his flushed cheeks. “You’re okay, kid. You’re okay.” He says, wrapping his arms around Mikes waist and pulling him close.
Mikes forehead leans against Harvey’s chest and Harvey brings up a hand to rub comforting circles on Mike’s back.
Mike is sobbing, though he seems to be actively trying not to, and Harvey has tears of his own running down his cheeks.
“You’re alright, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He murmurs, brining up his other hand to card through Mike’s hair.
They sit like that for some time, crying to each other, Harvey whispering words of comfort into Mike’s ears.
The crying stops, eventually, and Mike is curled into Harvey’s side on the couch. The position is more vulnerable than Harvey’s ever seen Mike. He looks soft and shattered. Recounting the memory that Harvey knows is crystal clear in his mind has taken a lot out of him, and his eyes are drooping with exhaustion.
“Okay, darling, let’s get you into bed.” He whispers, sitting up and pulling Mike with him gently. Mike stands, he wraps his arm around Harvey’s arm and walks beside him to the bedroom.
Harvey helps Mike with his tie, slipping his fingers through the loop and undoing it easily. Mike’s hands are still shaking, so Harvey undoes the buttons of his shirt and peels it off him.
He lays Mike down on his bed and carefully covers the man with his blanket. He’s almost asleep already, his breathing is slow and his eyes are fluttering closed. Harvey smiles at the sight. He shuts of the lamp and turns to leave the room, but is stopped by a warm hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Stay?” Mike asks him.
And it’s Mike who asks him, so Harvey nods his head even though it’s too dark for Mike to see, and slips into bed beside him.
“Would you want to see him again? Marcus?” Harvey asks quietly, rubbing circles into Mike’s back. Mike turns around to face Harvey, their faces are so close he can feel Mike’s breath on his nose.
“Yes. Yes I want to see him. I never got to thank him.” He says with wide eyes, he’s nodding his head.
“Okay. Tomorrow, I can call off work for the both of us. We can visit him, but there’s something you should know.” He says gently, rubbing Mike’s cheek with his thumb.
“Hm?” Mike hums the question. Harvey takes in a deep breath and exhales.
“He’s in the hospital right now, fighting cancer.” He whispers, and Mike’s face shifts to concern and worry.
“Oh, I’m so sorry Harvey. H-how long?” He asks.
“He beat it once, a few years back, but the most recent diagnosis was a few months ago. They— I-It’s terminal, they think…” he whispers, bringing the heel of his hand to his eyes and pressing there.
His hands are covered by slightly smaller ones that bring them away from his face. Mike is looking at him with so much compassion that Harvey can only blink back at him.
“You’ll be okay. I’ll be here.” He says, running a finger down his chin.
Harvey nods, looking into Mike’s soft, caring eyes.
He doesn’t even have to do it, because Mike closes the gap for him, and presses their lips together softly.
Harvey leans in more, kissing him back with vigor.
They break about a few seconds later, breathing heavily.
Mike has a grin plastered on his face, and Harvey wants to get rid of it desperately, so he leans in again and kisses it right off. They break apart again, Harvey grinning this time at the flush on Mikes cheeks.
“Go to bed, Mike.” He says with a smile.
Mike nods and closes his eyes.
~•*•*•~
The two men walk into the brightly lit room of the hospital side by side. Mike has a hand on Harvey’s lower back and is rubbing circles in a soothing manner.
Harvey explained his relationship with Marcus to Mike, how they weren’t close growing up, how they fought, how he was nervous to see him now, especially with the diagnosis.
Mike understood, and he’s been comforting him the entire trip to the hospital, reassuring him that everything would be alright.
Harvey steps up to the counter in the room and nods in greeting to the nurse that smiles at him.
“I’m here to visit with Marcus Specter, I’m his brother.” He tells the woman, who nods and begins clicking away on the keyboard. She smiles when she looks up next.
“He’s in room 324.” She says.
Harvey nods his appreciation and lets Mike walk them down the hall.
Harvey pauses outside the door, his body displaying a nervousness that is so unlike Harvey Specter that Mike actually files the image away in the folder labeled ‘Harvey’ showing emotions’ in his brain.
“You okay?” Mike asks him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it once.
Harvey exhales deeply and nods. “Yeah, you ready?” He asks.
“Let’s go.” They knock on the door and open it when they receive a semi-cheerful ‘come in’.
Harvey walks through the door with his hand in Mike’s, and Mike closes it behind them. When he looks up, he see’s the man in the bed staring at Harvey with wide eyes.
He looks almost exactly like Mike remembers. His hair is brown, his eyes are brown. His eye bags are heavier than when Mike first met him but his features are still handsome, if not slightly wrinkled.
“Harvey.” Marcus whispers, setting down the book he held in his lap.
The man wore regular clothes, no hospital gowns or anything.
Harvey took a step foreword, hesitant at first, then another, and another, and then he was wrapping his arms around his brother and sobbing into his neck.
“Hey, little brother…” Marcus says. He wraps his arms around Harvey’s shaking shoulders and Mike sees his smile a bit sadly. They stay like that for a minute, then Harvey lets go and wipes his eyes, standing himself up straight again. Mike grabs his hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
“You’ve brought a friend, then?” Marcus smiles, amusement is clear on his face. Mike notes how similar the two look, they could be twins if not for the slightly more square shape of Marcus’s jawline and the shade of brown of their eyes.
“This is my…associate.” Harvey says, nodding at Mike. Mike smiles, a bit nervously, and walks up to Marcus’s bed.
“We’ve actually met before,” he says, “I’m not sure if you remember though.” When Marcus raises an eyebrow, Mike holds out his hand, turning the arm he receives around the same way he did before so that his palm is facing up.
‘M I C H A E L R O S S.’ He draws the letters onto Marcus’s palm the same way he did that night. When he looks up, understanding is dawning on Marcus’s face. He pulls down his shirt collar to reveal the long scar across his throat.
“Holy shit, Mike?” He asks, eyes wide and full of disbelief. Mike smiles sadly and nods.
“I never got to thank you, that night, for saving my life. What with the whole, not being able to talk without blood spilling out of my throat thing.” He said, smirk filling his face. Marcus barked out a laugh and smiled.
“No need for a thank you, kid. How’s that knee doing, anyhow?” He asks with a raised brow.
“Man, I couldn’t walk for a few months after that, you know? Had to relearn completely. It still gives out sometimes, happened in court the other month, actually.”
“Oh, is that what that was?” Harvey asks from behind him, quiet, like he was actually asking himself. Marcus snorts and Mike chuckles softly.
“Yeah, Boss. Good thing you fucking grilled me for it, I don’t know how I would have lived without you telling me it’s inappropriate to faceplant in court.” Mike smiles at Harvey, who gives a contemptuous smile right back at him.
Marcus laughs from beside Mike. “So Harv, do you hold hands with all of your associates, or did this one just get unlucky?”
Harvey glares at Marcus, but casts a nervous glance toward Mike, who smiles and turns to Marcus.
“We’re actually together.” Mike tells him, assessing his face in case of any reaction other than something that resembles some sort of positive emotion. He doesn’t need to worry though, because Marcus huffs out a laugh and looks between the two men.
“It’s a small world.” He smiles, and Mike can sense Harvey relaxing behind him. “You two can sit down, you know? I have questions for both of you.”
Mike and Harvey sit in the cold plastic hospital chairs beside Marcus’s bed.
“You know, I wanted to be the one to break the news to you, Mike. When I left to assess the scene where your…mother was…” Marcus started slowly.
“It’s alright, I knew as soon as you got the call, what code 30 meant, and I already figured my father wasn’t one to survive a vehicular explosion.” Mike says casually. Marcus stares at Mike, then looks to Harvey with a raised eyebrow.
Harvey shrugs are Marcus and explains. “He’s a genius with an eidetic memory. First time I met him he corrected my legal knowledge whilst playing solitaire in an interview room.”
“I actually didn’t mean to walk in there. I was running from the cops with a briefcase full of weed and Donna sent me right in the interview room after I said that to her face.” He smirks while Harvey shakes his head in exasperation.
“Shit kid. Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you don’t even have a law degree.” He laughs and Mike looks at Harvey nervously. Harvey looks back, mouth zipped closed. Marcus’s laughter fades and then stops completely. “Michael Ross, you don’t have a law degree, do you?” Marcus asks with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
A nurse walks in then with Marcus’s lunch, and the three men exchange exasperated looks.