|No Chinks In Me
Author: WeAreTomorrow PM
RE-POSTED. Harvey Specter is not a nice man. What changed? Harvey/Mike. Slash.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Harvey S. & Mike R. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 812 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 24 - Updated: 07-18-12 - Published: 03-02-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7889951
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is more or less what I thought (hoped) would happen at the end of season one. What actually happens in season two is a lot more realistic but, hey, the eternal disappointment of a fangirl.
One gets used to it :P
No Chinks In Me
…you are like a pretty mirror, let me crawl beneath the surface…
Harvey Specter is not a nice man.
Lawyers can't afford to be soft. Can't afford to be naive. Morals don't win you any court cases and, sometimes, neither does truth.
To work at Pearson Hardman is to accept that. Is to accept that the good guys rarely win and, well, they're not really fighting for the good guys, are they? Sure, they do their pro-bono cases, grudgingly, for the image.
It's all for the image, all for the personal gain.
The best closer in New York needs a mind sharp enough to cut glass and the ability to talk circles around a compass. The very best needs to have the talent to tear someone apart on the stand, no hesitations, no chinks.
A tailored suit is his armor and his confidence, the perfect accessory.
Harvey Specter is ruthless because anything less is failure and if there is one thing that he cannot do, it's lose.
So he learned to cut his emotions out. To tune them out like the traffic at night.
Harvey Specter is not a shining white knight, coming to the rescue of justice and the little people who need him. At best, he is a man well dressed in gray, a mercenary sold to the highest bidder.
Everyone at the firm understands this. Everyone.
And then, well, there is Mike Ross.
His associate, his slobbering little puppy, who couldn't be anything but moral if his life depended on it.
God knows his job does.
You see, Harvey Specter watches out for one person and one person only.
And that person isn't supposed to be Mike Ross.
(But damn if he remembers until afterward.)
"If Mike goes, I go," He says and means it.
He realizes with grim surprise that he is willing to risk everything on this kid, this stray he picked somewhere on the road to the top.
Where is he going now?
The direction isn't up, not anymore. Unless this is taking the high road, if this is what they mean when talk about good deeds and selflessness. Harvey would laugh, if the situation wasn't so serious.
He is essentially threatening to throw his mentor and one of his only friends to the dogs in order to keep his own puppy, his brilliant college drop-out, his reformed druggie.
It's possible the most selfish thing he's ever done.
Jessica looks for weakness and finds only steel and maybe a little bit of desperation, a little bit of apology. She squares her shoulders and nods.
Harvey has her backed into a corner.
"Is the kid really that good?" She asks him, quietly, "Is he worth it?"
"Yes," Harvey answers, without hesitating.
Jessica hands him the phone and tells him to make the call. He takes it from her and dials.
"I-" he says and stops, "I'm sorry, Jessica."
"Make the damn call," she snaps and smiles.
"Systemic oversupply," Mike answers.
Jessica leans back in her custom-made leather recliner and smiles at him, impressed. They've been here two hours and she hasn't been able to make him do more then stumble, and that from nerves.
They've done everything from the very first courts in Athens to affidavits to the pros and cons of a bench trial.
Smart, she thinks with approval, and pretty.
"One more question," Jessica says, watches the way the boy's shoulders sag in what could either be relief or disappointment, "And then I'll let you go."
Mike nods and closes his eyes, preparing himself.
"Why is Harvey Specter risking his job to keep you?"
His eyes snap open.
"Excuse me," Mike asks, nonplussed, "He what?"
Jessica smiles to herself smugly, pleased with the answer. The associate's eyes are wide and honestly disbelieving, staring at her like she's told him that Harvey was an alien instead of a white knight after all.
She leaves him there with a knowing look and a handshake.
It's the smart ones that never get it, Jessica thinks and laughs.
And if Donna would be willing to place a tiny wager…?