Steph Rewatches Suits - Mike and Harvey Moments, 1.01 Pilot (6 of ?)


Steph Rewatches Suits - Mike and Harvey Moments, 1.01 Pilot (1 of ?)

"You go, I go" Part 5
*You go, I go* Suitsfic, gen, Harvey&Mike, K+, no general warnings. Season 3 Back-6-ish AU.  I ship Darvey, not Scarvey, so no Scottie. This short fic is going up in shorter, semi-unsatisfying sections.  Keep them wanting more, they said. This one is all Donna&Harvey.
(I do not own Suits, and unfortunately I can’t claim Harvey as my own either).


Harvey walked out of Jessica’s office feeling drained, physically and emotionally.  He hadn’t given himself time to process the finality of what he’d done.  He had to remain strong for Jessica—to keep his composure so she could keep hers.  She could be angry with him; his very calmness would infuriate her—but she couldn’t let her mask slip, lest anyone notice that she wasn’t the aggrieved managing partner but rather his literal partner in crime.  The charade was exhausting when it felt like his world was crumbling on top of him.

His next confrontation was unlikely to be a stroll in Central Park, either.  His back stiffened unconsciously as he strode toward his office.  If he was lucky, Donna would take an extended lunch for once, and he could pack up the important things before she got back.

She was there, waiting for him, looking stricken and agitated.  “Harvey,” she said, “where’s Mike?  He hasn’t been here all morning, and I just overheard a rumor in the associates’ pool that Jessica fired him.”  She was practically shivering with worry, and he wanted to calm her but he couldn’t find the words.  “Please, Harvey, tell me you’re going to go to Jessica.  Whatever he did, it can be fixed, right?”

Harvey shook his head.  “Jessica didn’t fire Mike.  I did.”

“What?!”  The flash in her eye was classic Donna, and he moved to avoid the verbal dressing-down he knew was coming.

“Louis found out about Mike.”

“Oh, no!”  If Donna had looked stricken before, she now looked positively horrified.  He had effectively tongue-tied her, it seemed, and he steered his shocked secretary to a seat on the couch, acquiescing to his role as the breaker of bad news.

“I fired him for his own protection,” he said gently, having taken a seat opposite her.  “I told him to get lost, leave New York if possible, or at least become very hard to find in case I can’t stop the firm from pursuing criminal charges.”

“Oh, Harvey.”  Donna’s eyes were misting and if it were anyone else Harvey would have offered her a box of Kleenex he kept on hand for upset clients, but of course Donna wouldn’t want to be reminded of any human weaknesses so he refrained.  He hoped she could hold it together when he told her the rest of the news.

“That’s not all, Donna,” he said, ashamed of the tremble he felt in his own voice.  Donna seemed to choke a little but nodded for him to go on.

“I’m leaving Pearson-Specter,” he said.

Better to pull the bandage off the wound quickly.  He held her gaze even while he would rather be looking anywhere else, fidgeting the hands that he instead held calmly in front of him.  Donna nodded again, quickly, and for a moment her face twisted and he thought the tears would brim over, but she managed to hold herself together and said, “I want to go with you.”

“You can’t,” he said immediately.

“I don’t care what firm.  I’ll take a pay cut.  Just don’t make me stay.”

“I can’t.”  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Donna, I’m not going to another firm.”


“I admitted everything to the partners.”

“Louis turned you in to the bar association?”  She looked furious, ready to go tear Louis Litt into tiny pieces.

“He didn’t have to.  I turned myself in.”

“Harvey.”  Her spark of anger was quickly turning back to devastation.  “You actually—“

“I couldn’t risk Louis or one of the partners investigating; Jessica would have been totally exposed.”

“Jessica.”  Donna’s laugh was short and harsh.  “What has she done to deserve that kind of loyalty?”

Harvey smiled sadly, thinking of the kid in the mailroom again.  “Enough.”

Donna swiped the back of her hand across her damp eyes, then flung it toward the room full of Harvey’s things.  “Then I had better get the packing tape, because you do not know how to box things so the glass doesn’t get shattered.”


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"You go, I go" Part 8

*You go, I go*

Suitsfic, gen, Harvey&Mike, K+, no general warnings. Season 3 Back 6-ish AU.  There is no Scottie.

This is a short fic, and this is its final episode, in which things are not actually resolved.  And that’s okay.

I do not write for Suits, which explains everything, of course.


By the time Harvey reached his apartment, it was night.  Becoming a former lawyer seemed like it took as much work as becoming a lawyer in the first place had, what with the statement he’d made to the bar association, the stopover at Goldman & Atwater to retain legal counsel that wasn’t Pearson-Specter—that wasn’t Jessica—and the meeting with his CPA in which he determined that with frugal living he could keep his apartment for four months before he’d be forced to downsize, or leave Manhattan.  Harvey said goodbye to Ray, his boxes of office things stacked unimportantly at the curb, and watched the car drive off.  He wouldn’t be seeing the trusted Indian driver again; he’d worked out the fact that without a steady call for it, a car service would be more expensive than the occasional taxi.  It felt weird to see the man go, knowing he could no longer just call him whenever he needed a ride or someone to talk about jazz with during one.

Harvey hefted two of the boxes and started toward his private elevator at the back of the high rise.  He would load the boxes into it, then take it up to his apartment.  As he approached, he was startled to see someone seated, leaning against the glass.  Harvey approached, warily; this was a good neighborhood, but New York was New York—until he realized it was Mike.  His knees were drawn up and he looked cold.

“What are you doing here?”

Mike just shrugged as he rose to his feet.

“Okay, then, you can help me move these boxes in.”  Neither of them spoke until all the boxes were safely stacked around Harvey’s living room.

Harvey surveyed the damage and decided he didn’t feel like dealing with them any further that night.  He would tackle the job of finding a new home for his signed basketball collection and his record set in the morning.  He turned to his helper.  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, a little more sharply than he’d intended to sound.  “Shouldn’t you be on a bus to Montana, or something?”  he could hear the note of aggression in his tone, which told him he was probably transferring his anger about giving up the job he loved onto Mike, who was really only indirectly responsible—no, Harvey had to admit to himself, Harvey Specter was, as usual, to blame entirely for what happened to Harvey Specter.

Mike shrugged, then pointed to the boxes he had helped carry.  “That’s the stuff from your office, isn’t it?” Mike said.  “I didn’t believe you’d actually do it—I didn’t think Jessica would actually let you do it.”

Harvey sat down heavily on the dark leather couch.  “I didn’t give her much choice,” he said.

Mike plopped himself down on the couch next to his former boss and stared out at the dark window.  “I don’t know how to leave it,” he said at last.

“Leave what?”

“This life,” Mike replied.  “Being a lawyer, you, Rachel—Rachel was relieved when I told her I got fired.  She thought that meant we could be together without having to worry about… it… anymore.”

Harvey looked down at his hands.  Pretty soon he was going to have them memorized.  “I wish it were that simple,” he said.  “I went to the state bar and told them everything.”

Mike looked sharply at the older man.  “Oh, man, Harvey.”

“Everything except who you are,” Harvey added.  “Although they could figure it out pretty quickly.  I told them I hoped that if I turned myself in they wouldn’t see any need to come after you, since I was the one who talked you into the whole thing.”

Mike frowned.  “Harvey, I talked you into it.”

Harvey shrugged.  “That’s not the way I remember it.”

Mike stared at him for a long minute before he realized.  “You mean, that’s the way you’re going to remember it.”

“Same difference.”

Mike shook his head.  “Harvey, you don’t have to do this.  They’ll take away your license.”

“Mike, they’ll take away my license even if I try to convince them you were blackmailing me into it.  I’m the lawyer, I’m the one they’re going to come after.  I’m just trying to limit the damages.”

Mike nodded slowly.  “What are you going to do if they take away your license?  I mean…”

“I don’t know.”  Harvey watched the cars in the darkness below, streaming by with a sense of purpose that contrasted with the few, faint, motionless stars visible in the Manhattan night sky.  “Learn how to leave it, I guess,” he said.  “The life, the job—“ he didn’t add ‘the people’; he wasn’t any more comfortable with goodbyes than Donna was, he supposed.

Mike seemed to read his thoughts.  “I’m not leaving New York, Harvey.”

“Mike, I can’t guarantee they don’t come looking for you.  I really think you should go somewhere else, at least until things calm down a bit.”

“No,” Mike said, turning to face him.  “I’m staying.  If they take this thing to court, you’re going to need to your number two on the case.”

“Mike, I’m not dumb enough to go pro se over my law license.  That’s like baiting a judge, especially if it goes to the D.A. as a felony case.  All judges think lawyers are crooks.”

“Okay,” Mike said, “but you better bet I’ll be in that courtroom, and I’ll make sure that judge knows I can take full responsibility for my own actions.”

“Mike, you do that and you’ll probably go to jail for five years.  For me, maybe one.  Probably a fine.”

“And your law license,” Mike pressed him.

Harvey looked away, but the tightness around his eyes told Mike he wasn’t telling him everything.  “Harvey,” Mike said.

“They already suspended it,” Harvey said quietly, calmly.  “No judge is going to give it back, even if it doesn’t go to the D.A. as a felony charge.”

Mike gulped.  “Harvey, I am so sorry,” he managed.

Harvey shook his head and ran his fingers through his now-uncoiffed hair, feeling the tension drain through his fingers even as the weight of what had happened that day set in.  “Forget it,” he said.  “Like I said, my idea.”

Mike shook his head too, knowing that changing Harvey’s mind was fruitless.  “I’m going to be there,” he said again, emphatically.

Harvey evidently realized Mike’s mind wasn’t likely to change either, because he leaned back into the leather cushions and a half-smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.  “Okay,” he said, “I guess we’re still in this together, then.”

Mike leaned his own head back and looked up at Harvey’s tall ceiling, across which the evening shadows reached and the dull light from the streets below them faintly played.  I guess we are, he thought to himself.

There was a knock on the hall door of Harvey’s apartment, then the sound of someone letting themselves in, followed by the click of heels in the hall.

“Come in, Donna.” Harvey’s voice was gravelly but steady and unsurprised.   Mike sat up and turned his head; it was Donna, and she was carrying a box in her hand.

“I figured you men would need this,” she said, holding it out to Harvey.

“Chunky monkey?” Harvey said, taking the ice cream box from her.

Mike blinked.  “How did you know—“

“I would find you both here? I’m Donna,” she said, but her response, while arch, was gentler than usual.

Harvey headed for the kitchen.  “I’ll get three bowls,” he called.

Donna kicked her spiked heels off onto the rug and sat down, and Mike leaned back into the leather again and breathed.  It was going to be okay.  Not because Harvey would keep his license, or Mike wouldn’t go to jail for five years, or Donna wouldn’t have a new boss at Pearson-Whatever-It-Called-Itself who could never replace Harvey; all of those things might happen, but they would happen tomorrow.  Tonight they were eating chunky monkey, and they were all together, and they would face what came together; and it would be okay.




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I might eventually write a sequel to this.

"You go, I go" Part 7

*You go, I go*

Suitsfic, gen, Harvey&Mike, K+, no general warnings.  Season 3 Back 6-ish AU.  There is no Scottie (“He’s dead, Jim.”)

This fic is still short, but I’m dragging it out as long as I can.

(Harvey’s voice): “Previously, on Suits…”
Donna: “I’ll grab the can-opener.”
Harvey: “I’ll get the thumbtacks.”

I do not own Suits or its characters.  I am merely borrowing them and promise to return them, mostly unharmed, in time for the June season 4 premiere.


Donna finished writing ‘fragile—this side up’ on the box that held Harvey’s crystal decanter set and put the marker down.  She looked over at Harvey, who had just piled the last few items from his bottom desk drawer into a mostly-full last box, and was reaching for the tape roller.  “Hold on a minute,” she said; stepping quickly outside, she dug in her own desk drawer for a moment and returned.  “Here, Harvey,” she said, holding out the shiny metal can opener.

“No,” Harvey remonstrated.  “You should keep that.  Pre-trial ritual.”

“Harvey,” she said, still holding it out, “do you think I’m going to care about pre-trial ritual with some loser of a lawyer who isn’t you?  Besides, why would I want to use the can opener that we stole from that diner to—“

“Okay,” he interrupted.  “I’ll keep it.”

“Good.  Then you’ll have something to remember me by.”

“Donna, I’m not going to forget you just because I walk out of here.”

They said nothing for a moment.

“I should call Ray.”

“I already did.  He’s downstairs waiting for you.”

Harvey nodded, hands in his pockets.  “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

Donna shook her head.  “No goodbyes, Harvey, please.”

“Okay.  Help me carry this stuff down.”

“Of course.”

A few minutes later, after Harvey, Donna, and a dolly full of boxes had made it down the elevator together, Donna watched her former boss climb in the backseat of the black Mercedes.  He rolled the window down.  “I don’t know what to say besides what you don’t want me to say,” he said.

She gave him a little smile.  “’Later’ will work.”

“Okay.  I promise I’ll ‘see you later’.”

The window rolled up and the car began to move.  Donna held up one hand in farewell.  “You better, you bastard,” she said to no one.


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"You go, I go" Part 2

*You go, I go*
Suitsfic, gen, Harvey&Mike, K+, no general warnings. Season 3 Back-6-ish AU. Still no Scottie (she’s been transported away to a parallel dimension or something.)
The short story bites are getting bigger, possibly.
(If I owned Suits, I would be as well-dressed as Jessica Pearson and drive a car as expensive as Harvey.  I don’t, I’m not, and I don’t.)


Mike had looked as shell-shocked as he had that day Harvey had sat him down in his office and told him he was proud of him instead of firing him like he planned—how had he described it to Donna?  “He does the talk, and the plan, and the what I would do, is just, whatever…”  He’d left.  He’d gone home for what was probably a sleepless night before his last day doing the job he was born to do, and Harvey was still in his office, still staring out at the sleepless city, just standing for one more night in this room.  This room.  It had represented so much five years ago—the culmination of a dream that had begun in the mail room of this very firm, and had with Jessica Pearson’s careful tending taken him to partner and now to Jessica’s second-in-command, with his own name on the wall by the elevators.

The kid in the mail room, however distant he might be from Harvey’s more recent life of high ambitions and bigger risks, would have been happy just for the chance to practice law, this thing they all loved; and now he was throwing it away.  He sat down at the chrome-and-glass desk, picked up a basketball from the window ledge, absently traced his finger over Michael Jordan’s signature.  Why had he done it?  Louis would ask him that, with a combination of smug horror on his face.  Jessica would say it was a rebellious need to act out, take risks, do something transgressive to feel alive—and as well as she knew him by now, she couldn’t be entirely wrong.  But he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t done it for the kid; for his little brother Markus who missed his chance at a scholarship because of leukemia, for the young Harvey who lost his major league pitching dream to a torn rotator cuff, or the kid in the mail room who was too poor to go to Harvard.  He might have done it for the kid.

Harvey set the basketball down carefully and gazed out through the glass walls, eyes resting distantly on the cubicle beyond, empty at this time of night.  Donna had understood, at least to some extent.  She must have seen something of what had put Mike over the top; she was practically the kid’s mother by now—but this—he wasn’t sure she would understand this!  She had understood when he left Cameron Dennis’ D.A. office, but that time he had had a safety net for both of them, and she had been able to follow him; and much as they had both wondered at the time how differently things might have turned out for them if he hadn't—if he wasn’t her boss—they had both known that he couldn’t work any other way, and she hadn’t wanted him to, because when it came down to it she was always as committed to his success as he was; which is why Donna Paulsen was not going to understand Harvey Specter, name partner of Pearson-Specter, resigning.


I wrote the run-on-sentences purely for the feels, I promise! Please don’t revoke my writer’s license…

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