Chapter Text
In the same way that a shark must keep swimming to breathe, so too does Jessica Pearson search for better ways to run her firm.
Manhattan is the concrete jungle. It's a brutal environment, harsh competition where only the ruthless survive for their own personal gain. High stakes. Long hours. Hunting each other for sport. Only the most cutthroat make it out of the climb.
But it's not the climb that Jessica's interested in. Anyone can climb. Anyone can have grit. Anyone can make it out alive. What she's interested in is longevity. Stagnation is self-abdication. Lawyers have the tendency to stay at the top once they reach it, making their bed and laying in comfort. Believing themselves as god beyond the clouds, far above the war that happens below them. That's not how Jessica operates. Resting on your laurels only kills future crops.
This is why she called for a partner's meeting.
Seated at the head of the library, she watches as her partners, junior and senior, trickle in. This angle gives her the leeway of watching everyone walk in, allows her the vantage point of the entire hallway the way royalty forces their audience to talk down the aisle before kneeling to them. Their expressions vary from intrigued to impatient, all tinged with expectation. It's not often that Jessica calls for a partner's meeting, even less so in the middle of the work day when there's always a backlog of files to sign and cases to close. But it's Jessica. And they always answer to Jessica.
Louis comes in and strolls to the very front, takes the seat closest to her.
"And a happy Wednesday to you, Jessica," he greets. Tries pushing the chair so he's closer to her. Doesn't budge. Gives up. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this meeting? Do we have attackers on our shore? You know I'm ready to step on the front lines at your command." She blinks at him. He gives her a double-thumbs up. "Nope, yeah, got it."
In typical fashion, Harvey is one of the last to arrive, walking at his usual easy pace. He's mastered the art of being just the right amount of late. It comes as no surprise that Mike is walking alongside him, a now-seemingly permanent fixture to Harvey's right. He's speaking animatedly about something, faux-punching Harvey with two fists while Harvey is faux-blocking him with one. When they get to the door, Harvey shoos him off. Instead of heading back in the direction of the bullpen, Mike takes his post on a sofa just outside the library's glass door, cracking open a folder and settling in.
"Jessica," Harvey nods at her pleasantly, before proceeding to stare at Louis. "Get out."
Jaw dropping, Louis takes a second to find his words. "You can't be serious."
"I'm Jessica's right hand," he says. "Right hand, right seat. Move."
"And I got here first."
"Dibs is your argument then? Not sure if that'll hold up."
"You're the—"
Jessica gets on her feet, the two of them quieting instantly. "Stooges," she informs them. "I've hired stooges."
Before they get the chance to rebuke the statement, she starts circling the room, heels soft against carpet. From the corner of her eye, Harvey reluctantly takes her seat, Louis attempting to scoot as far from him as possible.
"Good morning." Her voice is loud and clear, eyes scanning each face around the room. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules. I wanted to give everybody here an update on where Pearson Hardman is, and I'm very pleased to tell you all that we've secured more clients and closed more cases this fiscal year than in the past two combined. Billables are at an all time high, and, after a recent partner-based survey, we're in the top three firms in Manhattan."
A polite round of applause goes around, Louis clapping the loudest. Harvey, however, doesn't so much as twitch. A quick internet search could tell them this. No reason for Jessica to call them in just to tell them standard Pearson Hardman information.
"Keeping this in mind," she goes on. "I have noticed a significant drop in pro bono cases. Less on-time submissions. A lower overall client satisfaction. These are not one-time mistakes. These are choices made by people who are growing lax. Bad habits that are being picked up by everyone in this room. By partners. By my own people. Everyone here is the best of the best, but I wonder if you are still the best. Even the finest swords will rust if submerged in salt water." There's a pause. "Does anyone know what happens in the first week of September here in our firm?"
Realization dawns on Harvey's face like a swarm of locusts. Louis' hand shoots up. "Moot court for the associates."
"Thank you, Louis." Jessica smiles. It is not kind. "Two weeks from now, for the first time in the firm's history, partners will be participating in a mock trial against one another."
The silence is heavy with disbelief.
Nicholas, one of the firm's oldest partners—on the verge of retiring, specializes in property and being an asshole—lets out a disgruntled, "You have got to be kidding."
"And what about this is a joke?” Harvey scoffs immediately, not even letting the gripe linger. “That your billables haven't looked good since '06?"
That has Nicholas shrinking in his seat. Harvey shoots her a wink and she continues without missing a beat. "I will be calling out everyone's names and who you'll be up against. You'll receive your case by the end of the day. Questions?" This time, the silence is from resignation, seething it may be. How she loves the sound of it. "Wonderful. Once your name is called, you may leave. I'm sure you all have plenty on your plate. Anderson, you're with Ron."
She starts listing the names, a carefully curated list she puts together that clashes with prickly partners and holds weaknesses in the limelight in a way that only she can. In pairs, the room starts emptying out, a mixture of dismay and confusion wafting in the air, until she gets to the final two.
Despite his aggression and arrogance, Harvey would rather walk across coals before questioning Jessica in a public setting. They know better than to air out dirty laundry. In private—
"I can't believe you're making me agree with geriatric Nick." He pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s kept his mouth shut for the duration of the meeting, but now there's a twitch to his jaw and irritation in his eyes. "But really, you have got to be kidding."
She chooses not to sit, enjoying how she towers over them. "Not at all. Every single partner has something they excel at, and a weakness that can bring them down. I prefer an anticipatory approach than a reactionary one."
"So now we're playing mock trial?" he asks. "Instead of, I don't know, focusing on our real trials?"
Jessica tilts her head. "Do you think this will be easier than real court, then?"
Harvey leans back, considering. Pearson Hardman only ever hires the cream of the crop. There's a reason they've thrived despite the brutal attacks from Daniel. Every partner here can hold their own with ease against most firms, only truly contested by a handful here in Manhattan. Everyone has a winning streak. Knife-on-knife sharpening is the quickest you can go from blunt to cutting.
"Fine," he concedes. "But let's not play around and throw me under the bus with the rest of them. Unlike the rest of those airheads, I actually am good at my job and I think my sword is perfectly unsalted. There's no use in wasting my time playing make-believe when I can be raking us real clients and winning us real cases."
"Now, wait a second," Louis cuts in, holding up a finger. "In case you forgot, I'm still here—"
"I did actually forget, yes."
"And I take deep offense that you think going up against me would be wasting your time."
Harvey yawns. Checks his watch. "Well."
Incredible. It's as if it writes itself.
With what looks like a concentrated effort, Louis schools his expression. "And when I beat the hell out of you," he tells him through gritted teeth. "You're going to be so sorry."
"That's a nice thought." Harvey gets up, buttons his lapel with one hand. "Too bad I have to depose Nutri-Inc in fifteen minutes. If you'll excuse me—"
"Sit," Jessica commands. There's no room for argument in her voice and Harvey knows better. He sits, but he doesn't look happy about it. "That, right there, is why I saved you two for last."
"Because you want us to lose out on Nutri-Inc?" he asks, guileless.
"Because you're a jerk," Louis mutters.
"Because you both are forgetting that the real threat isn't in here, but out there." Jessica sighs. "This pesky dick measuring competition had its charm the first, I don't know, four years, but I'm getting real sick of it."
Jaw-dropping, Louis splutters. "What the hell did I do wrong here? I'm being abused!"
"Maybe make it less easy for me?" Harvey offers, and to his credit, he did seem at least half-sincere. "Trust me when I say this, it's not as though I relish in being an ass to you all the time. But you just give me every opportunity to be and for the sake of everyone on the planet, I have to take that opportunity. You've got to see where I'm coming from."
"Jessica—!" Louis tries, but she holds up a hand.
Harvey Specter is an arrogant bastard. She knew this before even Harvey knew this. But his arrogance stems from legitimacy. Positive results that compounded over time, confidence growing exponentially that can’t help but build up on itself until it becomes a fortress. Louis Litt is a genius. A finance wizard who would have an exceptional career in mathematics if it wasn’t for his genuine love of the law. But he doesn’t have an inch of spine in him; he’d jump at his own shadow if he ever stepped into the spotlight.
"I have had enough." She stares them both down. "I'm hearing what you're saying. Harvey, you no longer have to go against Louis."
His expression brightens and he flashes her his closing smile. "Thank you, Jessica."
And she flashes him hers. "Because now you'll be working with Louis."
Like twin fish, they both gape at her. Then they start speaking over each other in unison.
"Fuck that, Jessica—” Harvey swears.
Louis' hands are clasped together, pleading. "Please don't put me with him, god do not make me work with him, I will call H.R.—"
"I'm calling the police, I'm filing a motion. I'm calling the U.S. goddamn government—"
Voice-perfectly levelled, Jessica speaks over them. "But don't you want to know who you're up against?" Their words peter out, curiosity overriding both of them long enough for her to speak. "Me."
Harvey's eyebrows shoot up. "You're shitting me."
"We're up against Jessica?" Louis whispers.
"If I win—" She tosses her hair back. "You two will have to stop fucking around and act like adults with each other. No complaints. No whining. No fifth grade behaviour. I want you to act like the partners I hired, not Tweedledee and Dum."
"Dibs on Dee," Harvey mutters. Already, his intrigue is rearing its head. Jessica's always pleased to see it. No matter how long Harvey's been doing this, his love of a puzzle never fades away, never one to back down from a challenge.
Jessica continues. "And if you two win, you'll never have to work together again."
"Uh," Louis hesitates. "Ever?"
"Never ever."
"Deal," Harvey agrees instantly. He steps forward and juts his hand out.
She gives him an amused look. "You don't want to hear the rest of the conditions?"
"It's two against one. What's left to hear?" Harvey wiggles his fingers, impatient. "Let's shake on it. We'll see how the mighty Jessica Pearson fairs in the ring. Maybe it's actually your sword that we should inspect."
"Oh, how brave you are, Mr. Specter." She shakes his hand, foreboding. "Especially when you've committed such a rookie mistake."
Harvey pauses mid-shake. Brow furrowing. Doubt clouds his vision.
Her smile only grows. "Call your guard dog."
He freezes.
"You wouldn't," he challenges, baselessly. As if burned, he tries to drop her hand. She only tightens her grip in response. "Shit." Then, without taking his eyes off Jessica, he simply says: "Mike?"
Immediately, the door opens. A head of fluffy hair and bright blue eyes peek through. There's a pen tucked behind his ear. "Yeah?"
Harvey straightens, voice tight. "Come here for a sec."
There's a moment when Mike hesitates at the threshold. Even with the many privileges Harvey grants him, joining a partner's meeting is not one of them. Nonetheless, he enters, brief still hand that's undoubtedly proofed, gazing warily at Jessica before taking his place by Harvey's side. To his credit, he doesn't shrink at her gaze.
Jessica softens her smile. "Mike, you'll be part of my counsel for the Pearson Hardman's partners mock trial."
Mike whistles, low. "Okay, lots to unpack there. Wouldn't want to be the sucker who's opposing." Harvey clears his throat. Slowly, Mike turns to him in disbelief. Blinks. "Oh, you did not just sell me."
Harvey looks torn between pissed and resigned. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I do." Louis whacks Harvey's arm, and it's telling that he doesn't even acknowledge it. "You made us lose our Robin—" At the reminder, Mike shuffles to Jessica's side. Harvey watches with a blank expression. "And now we're just two Batmans. What do we even do with two Batmans? It just doesn't make any sense."
"Then take off the mask and figure it out," Jessica snips. "Unless you both want to be Alfred?"
"How dare you," Harvey scoffs. In the corner of her eye, Mike stays quiet, fiddling with the pen in his ear. It sets Harvey off, apparently. "Got something to say?"
Once again, he glances at Jessica before answering. "Thinking about what strategy to use against you two." Harvey takes a heavy step towards him and Mike hums. "I'm under Jessica's tutelage. Basically under witness protection. You can't touch me." It doesn't stop Harvey from taking another step closer and Mike instantly folds, both hands shooting up in surrender. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"
"Don't get a big head. And you'll still be taking on your usual work load during this. Obviously."
"Obviously."
Louis leans forward, speaking low to Jessica. "I'm not sure this is the best idea," he whispers. Behind them, Harvey nabs the folder from Mike, skimming quickly over its contents before nodding. Good. Send it off. Mike gives an enthusiastic salute, to which Harvey responds by smacking him with the folder. "I mean, can we really trust that the two of them will really work against each other? We might end up knee-capping both teams if we go through with this."
Jessica matches his tone. "Then we better make damn sure nobody crosses state lines." Then, to the rest of them: "Does anyone have any questions?"
Mike raises a hand. "Is there a winning prize of some sort?"
Louis' chest puffs up. "Pride."
"Or a gift card, maybe?"
Harvey rolls his eyes. "If you actually manage to win, then sure."
Watching how Mike preens at the idea of a gift certificate, Jessica decides to run some caveat emptor. "Mike," she calls out, getting his attention. "Can I rely on you for this trial?"
Mike turns to her, reads between the lines of what she's really asking of him. In a flash, the boy in front of her changes. Straightens up, drops the easy expression. It ages him by a good number of years. "Of course, Jessica. What do you need?"
How many times has she overheard Mike ask Harvey that very question? In the hallways, in his office, in the kitchen. Glancing over at Harvey, she expects to see anger, maybe possessiveness. Instead, he's taking in Mike's open and sincere compliance, his willingness to do well for her. Watches how they lock eyes.
Harvey grins. All teeth. "Fine. I’ll play along."
Hook, line, and sinker.
State of Ames vs. Welles.
David Welles is an entrepreneur who converted an old gin distillery into a hand sanitizer manufacturing facility. When the state entered a public health emergency, the Governor of the State of Ames commandeered Welles’ facility to produce hand sanitizer for public use. Once the emergency ended, the equipment was returned, but the market for health products had all but disappeared. Welles was never compensated during this time. In a fit of rage—Mike added with flair—Welles sues the state under the Fifth Amendment’s Takings Clause, arguing that the Constitution entitles him to compensation.
After a long and heated debate on how to divvy up the suit, they decided to draw lots: Harvey and Louis back the defendant, while Jessica and Mike take on the plaintiff.
In two weeks time, both teams will go head-to-head in court. March 15th, Mike points out, enthralled. Ides of March.
Jessica smiles, directs it at Harvey.
The die is cast.
Louis enters the bullpen how he always does: like Jesus Christ descending on the third day.
He’s not an idiot. He knows he has an uphill battle of trying to get Harvey to respect him, much less like him. But he’s pretty good at knowing what people want. And when you know what people want, you become what someone wants. So it’s simple math:
Take whatever bargaining chip that Louis has over Harvey (A), multiply that by how Louis decides to present it to Harvey (B), and divide that by average caliber of Harvey’s erratic reactions (C). Even accounting for a margin of error, the rate of success is high enough to pursue. And pursue he shall.
As usual, the associates freeze for half a second when he comes in, the way a prey animal would enter mild paralysis during a hunt. He relishes in it, enjoys the shaky glances, how their heads duck as if engrossed in the work. Everyone freezes except one. Mike gives him a distracted wave before he continues typing something up on his monitor, an earphone in and a pyramid of empty energy drinks on the side of his desk.
Striding past Mike, Louis snaps his fingers. “Kyle,” he barks, and Kyle gets on his feet immediately, hand behind his back to hide that he was on his phone. “With me.”
“Sure, Mr. Litt.” Kyle starts hastily packing up his things unnecessarily. “What can I do for you?”
“Not for me—” Louis looks him up and down. Good enough. “For Harvey.”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Mike glance up from behind the cubicle.
“Mr. Specter wants a new associate?” Kyle asks in disbelief. “And he asked for me?”
“Yes.” Pause. “No. He’ll want one when he sees one.” Another pause. “Just shut up and follow me.”
Louis marches out, but not before he hears the exchange behind him. “No hard feelings, Ross. Always knew Specter’d get sick of you. It’s about time he gets an upgrade.”
“No hard feelings at all,” Mike replies easily. “You absolutely deserve this, Kyle. Tell me how it goes afterwards.”
“Whatever.”
The walk to Harvey’s office is short but Kyle uses every second of it smoothing down his hair, straightening his tie, clearing his throat. “Any advice?”
Louis huffs. “Let me do the talking.”
They rounded the corner and, perched on her desk like a benevolent goddess, Donna gives him a strange look. “Louis.”
“Donna.” He jerks his thumb back. “This is Kyle.”
“Okay.”
“Kyle is here to support us with the mock trial,” he finds himself explaining. Donna has that wonderful effect on him. Like he needs to work to exist around her. “He’s the best fifth year I have.”
Donna’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “And Harvey asked for support from…Kyle.”
Louis chuckles. “You don’t enter someone’s home without a gift. Kyle here—” he drags Kyle by the shoulder and presents him to Donna like he’s at TSA. “—Is a peace offering. He’s what’s going to make Harvey and I into a team. It’ll show him that I understand what he wants, and that I’m serious about this trial. It’s perfect.”
If at all possible, Donna’s brows seem to climb higher. “And you think the key to Harvey Specter’s heart,” she glances over at Kyle, who gives her a smoulder. “Is by giving him Kyle. To replace Mike.”
Nodding eagerly, Louis grins. “Not a bad idea, right?”
Donna blows out a sharp breath. “Louis, this might be your best idea yet.”
“Really?”
“One hundred percent. I literally can’t imagine anything Harvey would want more than a replacement for Mike. Nothing he can ever want more.” Her eyes are glittering. She walks around her desk and opens the door for them. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Emboldened by Donna’s encouragement, he all but kicks Kyle through the door.
Louis would never admit this, but it's always a treat to enter Harvey's office. Tastefully decorated and so distinctly Harvey. The windows are large and looming, the corner allowing for the illusion that they’re in the middle of the sky, floating between heaven and earth. It probably adds to the god complex that Harvey seems to be nursing.
Harvey doesn’t even look up when they enter, focused on the mess of files around him. “Not right now.”
Louis is so giddy that it feels like his heart can burst. “You seem to be busy,” he observes.
“Yeah, no shit.”
“What if I said that I can help you with that?”
“This isn’t for the moot. We’re having another round of depos for Nutri-Inc. Mike should already have the line of questioning drafted, so—” Harvey waves a hand, pen still tucked between his fingers. “Go away.”
Louis clears his throat loudly. “I said, it would be nice if—” he shoves Kyle forward. “You had some help.”
Finally, Harvey looks up. Gives Kyle a once-over. Frowns. “Who is this?”
“This is Kyle.” Right on cue, Kyle steps forward, offering a hand to Harvey. “Your new associate for the moot.”
Harvey wheels his chair back out of reach. “My what?”
“Let’s not kid around here, Harvey. We’re up against Jessica and Mike. That’s nothing to sniff over. We could use an extra pair of hands and Kyle is one of the best I’ve got.” Louis gives him his best smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Mr. Specter,” Kyle says, unperturbed that his hand is still mid-air. “I’m very excited to work alongside you. I’m sure that I can fill Ross’ shoes no problem.”
There’s a long stretch of silence.
“Louis,” Harvey starts, voice low. “I’m only going to say this once, so please listen carefully.” The hair on the back of Louis’ neck rises. A polite Harvey is a dangerous one. “I won’t even begin to talk about how you want to increase our chances of winning by inviting someone new. That’s actually the least of my worries right now.”
“I—” Louis tries, but Harvey shakes his head.
“Not finished. What I want you to understand is that there is no instance that I would ever want another associate. I could be on death row tomorrow, and if my only chance of survival was to take on someone new, I’d ask you kindly to pull the lever.” Harvey sets his pen down. “I’ll let this slide, because as evil as you think I might be, I do want us to win this thing. But—” he levels Louis with a dark look. “You want to get on my good side? You don’t start off by replacing Mike Ross.”
Harvey gives Kyle an expression of distaste. “You.”
“Um,” he hesitates, complexion gaunt. “Yes, sir?”
“Get out.”
Louis has half a mind to at least escort Kyle to the door, both their tails between their legs. It doesn’t help that Mike is now leaning against Donna’s desk, both of them clearly watching this unfold through the glass.
Mike is practically glowing. “Hi Kyle,” he waves, pleasant. “And how’d that go?”
“Fuck off.”
“Is that all that Harvey said to you? He’s getting soft in there.” Mike’s eyes crinkle in delight. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Without another word, Mike slides past them, carefully avoiding Kyle who storms back to the bullpen, and enters the office with a familiarity so distinct that you’d think he lives there.
As the door closes, Harvey’s voice sounds over. “Was that the Kyle?”
“Yes. Oh my god, tell me everything—”
The door shuts closed.
Louis slowly turns to Donna, who’s giving him a beguiling smile. “You knew that would happen.”
“Yup.”
He stares, betrayal burning in his chest. “So why—”
“Louis,” she cuts him off, sighing. “If you didn’t know that would happen, then I can’t help you. My advice? Learn from this. Figure out why this happened and think about why Harvey reacted like that.”
Louis lets his gaze wander back to the office, watches how Harvey is talking, soundless but clearly attentive, and how Mike is leaning so far into his desk you’d think he’s a second away from just jumping over it.
It feels like Louis is missing something. And he’s going to find out what it is.