Mike's phone pierced his ears, pulling him from his dream. He snorted awake, blindly snatching the phone off his nightstand. Without looking at the screen, he answered with a hoarse, "Hello?"
"Mr. Ross?" he recognized the voice on the other end, but he was still half asleep and couldn't quite put a face and name to the voice like he usually could.
"Yeah," he responded sitting up, running his free hand through his hair.
"Mr. Ross, this is Dr. Massey from the nursing home…" Now Mike was awake.
"What's wrong?" his heart was thudding against his chest, his breath quickening. He was jumping to conclusions, this could be anything. Maybe he forgot to pay his Grammy's bill. Doubtful sure, but he had been working a lot lately; he had his mind on other things. Maybe she needed to be moved to another wing. Not so doubtful, actually it would be the third time she was moved in two months. It could be any number of things, he was just being negative. Or he hoped…
"We're sorry Mr. Ross. We did all we could…" Mike was sure Dr. Massey kept talking, but he didn't hear any of it. She was dead, his Grammy was dead. He was supposed to go see her yesterday after work, but Harvey kept him late to finalize their game plan for the court case today. He was going to see her today during his lunch break. That was out of the question now…
His throat tightened, his vision blurring, but he refused to shed a tear. Not yet. So, to distract himself, he tuned back into what Massey was saying: "…official autopsy to pinpoint the cause of death, but in my professional opinion it looks like a heart attack. You're welcome to start making arrangements and we should release the body…" oh God, she was talking about Grammy's body. His Grammy's body. The woman who practically raised him since the age of ten.
Massey spoke a few more words before ending the call. Mike hung up his own phone, tossing it on his bed. He ran both hands down his face, his fingertips coming away wet. His Grammy was gone. She was gone just like his Pop-pop, his mother, his father. He was completely alone. He didn't even have Trevor to call anymore…
He could always call Jenny, but they hadn't spoken much since he decided to just be friends with her. He tried to make it work with her, he really did, but something just wouldn't let him take that next step. Or someone…
He shook his head, pushing back thoughts of Jenny and Rachel. They weren't going to bring his Grammy back. Nothing was going to bring his Grammy back…
It had been a week since his parents had been killed. Some gun wielding psycho shooting both when the mugging he was attempting went horribly wrong.
Mike hadn't been sleeping well since his parents' death. He had been too busy trying to sort through his emotions. Trying to determine just how he felt in the whirlwind that was his brain.
He knew he felt angry. Angry at the gunman for taking his parents. Angry at the cops for not finding him yet. Angry at his parents for leaving him and Grammy. A big, ball of anger that pierced his heart and clenched his stomach.
On top of his anger, he was also sad. They were his parents. Granted, he hadn't been getting along with his dad lately, but James Ross was still his father. He still loved him. And Marigold, his mother, with her honey, gold hair and gray eyes. He missed them so fiercely that it hurt worse than the anger.
He also felt confused. He was ten, read more books than kids years older than him, but could not figure out how God could take his parents from him. He was only a kid, he still needed them. He didn't understand why the bully Allan Hannah got to keep his parents, yet he didn't. It wasn't fair.
He wasn't aware when he started crying, but his cries aroused his Grammy. She came into his room, a worried expression on her face, and sat on the edge of his bed. She gathered him into her arms, running a hand through his blond hair, and shushed him.
Once he calmed down, he pulled away from his Grammy, running a hand across his face. He took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, "Why did they have to die, Grammy?"
"It was their time to go, Michael," Grammy responded softly.
"But why?" Mike knew he sounded like a five-year-old, but at the time he didn't care. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.
"I wish I knew, Michael. I really do…"
He didn't know how long he sat, locked in his own thoughts, but his phone rang again, pulling him back to reality. He picked it up, checked the screen, and groaned. He didn't have time for Harvey, not after what had happened. But he knew Harvey would just keep calling until he answered, so Mike took a breath, composed himself, and answered, "Yeah?"
"Where the hell are you?" Harvey's voice demanded. Mike ran his hand down his face again, glancing at his alarm clock, eyes widening at the time. He'd lost nearly an hour and a half.
"I am sorry, Harvey. It's just…"
"I don't want to hear your Goddamn excuses. Ray'll be pulling up to your apartment in fifteen." And Harvey hung up before Mike could say anything else. So, telling Harvey was out of the question.
Mike got out of bed, wondering how in the hell he was going to participate in a court case when his life had just been ripped apart. He'd be lucky if he were dressed by the time Ray picked him up. This day is going to suck…
Harvey glared at the building Mike lived in when Ray pulled up. Three floors, no elevator, in one of the worst parts of town. It was a wonder the kid hadn't been robbed, yet.
Harvey shook his head. He didn't have time to think about where Mike lived. The kid was late, they needed to be in court in half an hour, and Harvey was ten seconds away from storming into the atrocious building and dragging him out by his skinny tie.
The door opened, Mike slipping out. There was something off about the kid, something Harvey didn't like, but, again, he didn't have the time to dwell on trivial things. Perhaps after the case.
"Took you long enough," he said the moment Mike got in the car. Harvey's stomach tightened when Mike didn't respond in his usual snarky way. In fact, other than brief eye contact, something hidden deep in Mike's baby blues that Harvey couldn't quite pinpoint, the kid made no effort to acknowledge Harvey at all.
Later, Harvey silently snapped at himself when he made to ask Mike what was wrong. So, he looked away from his associate, tapped Ray on the shoulder, and they started driving again.
The whole way to the courthouse, however, Harvey couldn't get the nagging little voice out of the back of his head. The voice that sounded like Donna. 'There's something wrong with him, Harvey. Ask him, ask him, ask him…'
He tried to push the voice away, but it was like trying to push the real Donna away. Harvey couldn't. But they had a case to win, he didn't have time to get into Mike's personal life. Again, he'd wait until after they returned to the firm. Besides, Mike would be okay until then. It's not like it was something life changing…
Mike barely paid any attention to Harvey as he went round and round with the other lawyer. It was a fierce battle of sharp tongues and even sharper wits. But in the end one man was victorious.
Harvey Specter was extra smug as they got back into Ray's car. Mike offered him a weak smile, but nothing else. He laid his head against the window as the car jolted forward, not quite catching the worried glance Harvey flashed his way.
"You okay?" Harvey asked quietly, his voice just a pitch higher than the soothing tones of Eric Clapton coming from Ray's speakers.
"What?" Mike lifted his head to meet Harvey's eyes, spotting the flash of concern before it evaporated.
"I asked if you were okay," Harvey responded slowly, speaking to Mike as if he were dense.
"Be careful Harvey. Someone might accuse you of caring," Mike retorted, his voice more bitter than sarcastic. He didn't want to talk about it, not when it was so fresh in his mind. Perhaps later, but not now.
"Not caring, just curious. You're never this quiet," Harvey said his eyes flashing again, this time in annoyance, at Mike's comment.
"Can we not talk? Please," Mike questioned, really not in the mood for their usual banter. Something new flashed across Harvey's face, something Mike couldn't pinpoint, but the older man sighed and nodded. The rest of the car ride was filled with a heavy, uncomfortable silence…
Blame this on the fact that this show is so damn good, the characters are so frigging awesome, and I just can't stop publishing stuff. And I needed to get this out of my system.
So, let me know if I should continue, I do not own these characters, and I've gotta go.