Harvey walked through the firm as if he owned the place, going straight to the elevator and straight up. Even in jeans and an old dress shirt, he oozed charisma, confidence, experience. He knew he was drawing gazes, and threw some charming smiles at the cute associates. He knew very well the effect he had on women, and he used this to his advantage. No one questioned that he was right where he belonged.

Until he got to the receptionists.

She looked up at him over her glasses, moved her chewing gum around in her mouth, and said, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I believe you can. I'm here to talk to Daniel Hardman." He gave her a huge white grin, an extra dose of charm on top.

She gazed at him, unmoved. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Um, I work here."

She looked him up and down. "Not wearing that you don't." She turned back to the computer.

"Look, I'm just wearing this so my client feels comfortable. Now, it's really important that I see him."

She glanced over her shoulder at the office whose blinds were closed. Harvey pointed. "Is he in there?"

She didn't answer. Harvey headed for the door.

"You can't go in there!" she called.

Harvey ignored her and went into the office. He was surprised to find not only Hardman, but the other half of the company, too.

Jessica and Daniel seemed just as surprised to find such a scraggly young man standing in the doorway of a closed-door meeting.

"Hi," Harvey said with a slick grin. "I have something important I need to say-It might be better if I closed the door."

Hardman opened his mouth to say something, but Jessica cut him off. "Well, close it then."

Harvey shut the door, winking at the receptionist as he did so.

"I heard you talking to Bailey," Hardman said. "You told her you worked here."

"Well, I do. In the mail room." He stuck his hand out. "Harvey Specter."

Hardman shook it. Harvey turned to Jessica. She ignored his outstretched hand. He put it down.

"Well? What are you doing here, Mr. Specter?" Hardman asked, exchanging an amused look with Jessica.

"You'd be surprised what you hear down there, in the mail room. Like someone in the firm leaking information to a rival."

Hardman's face grew serious. Jessica leaned forward.

"Are you saying that you heard someone in our firm leaking information to another firm?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm not sure who it was, but he was talking to someone about a merger. A pharmaceutical company, I think. Based on the detail he was giving, and the fact that he was talking in secret to someone in the mail room, I'm assuming it wasn't just a conversation between coworkers."

Pearson and Hardman glanced at each other.

"Look into it," Harvey said."I guarantee you'll find something."

"Alright," Jessica said with a dangerous smile. She leaned forward. "And I guarantee you that if I don't, you're going to find your ass out on the street. Are we clear?"

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Harvey said with a shrug.

The two watched him leave.

"Who the hell does that kid think he is?" Hardman muttered in unbelief. He looked over at Jessica, saw the look on her face. "What?"

"I like him," Jessica said.


Harvey took the familiar walk through the cemetery and to his father's grave. He was about to pour them both a glass of expensive whiskey when a loud sob made him pause. He was in a cemetery, so it shouldn't have concerned him, but there was something in the sound, something desperate and broken, that made him walk to the source.

Harvey froze when he saw them-and it wasn't just the fact that he was sitting in front of a grave with a gun to his head. He was shattered, empty. Harvey had never seen anything like it, not even in his most desperate clients.

"Hey," he said quietly. The man jumped. Harvey walked forward, his hands in front of him. "Hey, buddy. What's goin on?" His voice was gentle.

The man looked up at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Just a guy." He shrugged. "It's not important. Why don't you put the gun down for a minute and just talk to me."

"Are you-are you my guardian angel?" the man asked through tears. The gun in his hand was trembling.

Harvey couldn't help but smile at that. "See it how you will. Now could you please put down the gun? So we can talk like proper men?"

The man nodded slowly and set the gun on the ground.

"That's better. What's on your mind?"

"What's on my mind? Well, you see this grave? It's my brother. He was all I had, see. He was always there for me, always had my back, always made sure I was safe. It's been three months. Three months without him. I can't-I can't do this anymore!"

Harvey, against his better judgment, sat himself on the ground next to the man. "My dad's under the ground not far from here. I know what it's like to lose someone close to you. But you've got to pick up and go on."

"Easy for you to say. You're wearing a seven hundred dollar suit."

Harvey leaned forward. "You think that money makes it easier? What, you think that after I found out he was gone I could just use my money and buy myself one last conversation with my father? Money does not do shit when you lose someone. You just have to get your ass up and go on. If you think you don't have anything to live for, find something. Learn to watch out for yourself."

The man nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you." He looked over at the gun he'd set at the ground, took out the clip, emptied the bullets onto the ground. "Thank you."


It wasn't as classy a bar as Harvey was used to. In fact, it was pretty damn crappy. But the higher end bars didn't show the Yankees games, and Harvey loved watching them with the guys (the guys being the sad, drunk regulars). He took a swig of his beer and stood up.

"Where ya goin, Harvey? Can't stand to watch your team get beat?"

"Oh, they're not getting beat. They're gonna kick the Red Sox' ass. I'll only be gone a minute; I have to use the men's room."

He walked to the back of the bar, ignoring someone's rather rude comment about his manhood. As he neared the bathroom, he heard sounds of an altercation and went to investigate.

He followed the sounds and went out the backdoor into the dank alleyway behind the bar.

A man was holding a woman by the hair. She was crying, make-up running down her face, a bruise forming.

"Let me go," she begged, trying to get herself free from his grip.

"Shut up, bitch," the man spat, raising his other hand.

"Hey, buddy," Harvey said, stepping out. The door shut with a bang behind him. "Why don't you just let her go? Be a gentleman, yeah?"

"Are you lookin for a fight, pretty boy? Don't want to ruin that fancy suit of yours by getting it bloodstained, do ya?"

"Look, I really don't want anyone to get hurt. So let me call her a taxi, and then we can both go our ways."

The man shook his head, pulling the woman's hair. She cried out. "Nuh uh. That's not how this works."

"Fine," Harvey said, walking forward, taking off his jacket and setting it on the step. He rolled up his sleeves and pulled off his tie.

The man pushed the girl aside and cracked his neck. "You're gonna die, faggot."

"We're all gonna die," Harvey answered curtly. The man took a swing at him, but Harvey ducked easily and punched him in the ribs. The man staggered back a little, looking more surprised than hurt. Harvey didn't hesitate, punching him again in the jaw, the face. The man fell to his knees.

"Enough?" Harvey asked. The man didn't answer. Harvey walked to the woman's side. She was still crying and trembling. "Hey. You okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

She shook her head. He took her by the arm and walked her to the street, where he hailed a cab and gave her a few tens.

"Go home. I'll take care of it," Harvey said.

"Thanks," she said softly. She got into the cab, and Harvey tapped on the side and it melted into the crowded streets.

Harvey heard the man get up. Without turning around, he took his phone out with one hand, and pointed at him with the other.

"You! You stay down. I've just called the police, and if you move, so help me god I'll need to call and ambulance, too. And it won't be for me."


Harvey came out of his office. Donna was holding a can, glaring at it.

"Donna. What are you sulking about?"

"I have canned peaches and I can't open them," she pouted.

"Canned peaches?" Harvey said in disbelief.

Donna's eyes got watery. Harvey cursed inwardly. "My grandmother always used to buy me-before she-I'm sorry," Donna said, pulling a tissue from the box and dabbing at her eyes.

"Look, Donna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No, no," Donna said through her tears. "It's-it's okay. Really, I'm fine."

Harvey sighed. He knew how to handle clients and rivals and drunks-but crying women was not one of his fortes.

The next day, he came to work with a small gift-wrapped bow with a tie around it and put it on Donna's desk.

Donna looked at it, then at Harvey. "For me?"

He nodded. She smiled and opened it. Her expression turned to one of confusion. "…A can opener?"

"For your peaches," Harvey explained.

Donna nodded, trying not to laugh, and put it in her drawer.

"Thank you, Harvey," she said.


"Look, Mr. Hobson. Unless you settle, I will bring your entire company to its knees. And then behead it. I have all the ammunition I need right here. You don't stand a chance."

Mr. Hobson stared at Harvey with pure hatred. Harvey pushed the paper toward him. Mr. Hobson grudgingly signed it and threw the pen on the table.


Harvey handed the paper to his client, Mara Greene. She took it, read it, read it again.

"Is this…is this real?" she breathed.

Harvey nodded. "Yes it is."

"How the hell did you get them to settle?"

"Ms. Greene, a magician never reveals his secrets. But I will say this: I. Kicked. Ass."

Mara laughed and kissed Harvey on the cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Spector."


Donna didn't know exactly why she felt the need to go to Harvey's apartment that day. But as she walked to work, something urged her to drop in on her friend.

She took the elevator up to his apartment and knocked on the door. "Harvey?" she called. She opened the door. "Harvey?"

Harvey was slumped on the couch, several empty whiskey bottles on the floor, a full one in his hand. He didn't acknowledge his receptionist's presence. She strode to his side.

"Harvey! What's going on?"

He looked up slowly, his eyes glassy. "It's been a year today. A year. Did I tell you the last thing I said to him? The last thing I said to him was, "Sorry, Dad. I'm not going to make it. I have a big case I'm working on." A big case. A big case was enough to keep me from seeing my father for the last time" He hung his head and he cried.

Donna took the bottle from his hand and set it on the coffee table. He offered no resistance. She took his face in her hands and tilted his face up. "He knew you loved him, Harvey. And he loved you. Now, come on. You have a big one today, a chance to kick some ass and make yourself look good. Take a shower, get yourself cleaned up. I'll cover for you."

He shook his head. "No. No. I can't."

"Harvey, you're drunk. You know how depressed you get once you've had too many to drink. Now sober up and get your ass off of the couch and come to work. Or else I will kick your ass. So get up and be the Harvey I know and love."

Harvey smiled a little. "You love me?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Donna returned a small grin. "You're drunk." She stood and headed for the door.

"Donna," Harvey called. She looked at him. "No one hears about this."

"You know I'm the best at keeping secrets, Harvey," she answered.

Harvey arrived at work an hour afterward, fashionably late as usual, freshly combed, spry, a charming smile gracing his features. He kicked ass and made himself look good and gave Donna a silent thank you.

And he was the Harvey that Donna knew and loved.