#marveynetwork

+

Harvey throws the file down onto his desk. “Goddammit, Aaron.”

The associate nervously steps up to the front of Harvey’s desk and says, “He didn’t give me a choice.”

“How many times have I told you? There’s always another choice.” 

“I can fix it.”

“No.” He shakes his head, a clear dismissal. “I’ll take care of it. You’re done.” 

“Harvey-”

“You’re done.”

Aaron retreats from his office with one more look thrown over his shoulder, his tail between his legs. Ridiculous.

“You realize the associate pool is quickly dwindling.”

Harvey looks up and catches Donna’s eye through the glass of his office wall, her hand on her hip and her finger pressed against the intercom button.

“I don’t need your judgment, Donna. I need an associate who can do their damn job.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to decompress once in a while, you know.”

“If I didn’t spend three quarters of my time fixing their damn mistakes, I might be able to.”

There’s a silence that goes on entirely too long, and then she finally says, “I’ll find someone else.”

She’s judging him, hard, and Harvey can’t find it in him to give a shit.

“Good. Try to find someone who doesn’t need their hand held.” He picks up the file on his desk. “I’m going to fix another mess.” He strides out of his office, and as he passes her desk, he says, “Maybe one of these days I’ll actually get to do my damn job for once.”

+

It takes a good seven hours to placate the clients and undo Aaron’s shitstorm of a mess, and when he’s finally through, all he wants to do is strip out of his suit, pour himself a few fingers, and sink into one of his armchairs.

He opens the door to the balcony to let in a little air as he passes by, strips down in no time, and slips into a t-shirt and jeans. He’s just bent over his turntable, Billie Holliday in hand, when he hears the bright, quick notes filter down into his condo from outside the open patio door.

He puts the record down and walks over to the patio door, listens for a minute inside before he steps outside. The piano is a little louder out here, and Harvey sits in one of the lounge chairs on his patio, stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle. He leans back and closes his eyes, and rests the tumbler of Scotch on his belly as he listens to the notes go faster, get brighter, start to take shape, almost as if he can see them dance behind his closed eyelids.

This must be his new neighbor.

+

It doesn’t take Harvey long to realize that his neighbor plays the piano a lot. And that he’s very, very good.

Some mornings he wakes up to notes filtering in through his patio door, gentle songs that turn quick and bright, that welcome the rising sun, that greet Harvey with a Good Morning. He falls asleep to slow, soothing songs, songs that sound like the stars coming out. 

There are classical pieces that must have taken months to master. There are pop songs that probably took ten minutes. Harvey smiles every time he hears Elton John or The Beatles mixed in with Chopin or Beethoven.

There’s one piece the pianist hasn’t played yet, something Harvey would love to hear.

So he thinks, why the hell not?

And he sticks the note to the front door of apartment 23.

+

A tentative knock sounds on his office door and he barks out, “What?”

A meek associate peeks his head into Harvey’s office, as if Harvey’s office walls weren’t made of glass, for god’s sake. As if he could somehow hide himself from Harvey’s current mood. After fixing yet another stupid associate mistake this morning, Harvey’s patience level is hovering somewhere close to negative 14. This associate better start speaking, and fast.

“Mr...Specter? I’m, um...I’m Harold? One of the associates?”

“You’re not sure?”

“No, I...um...I am. I just...”

Harvey feels every single last ounce of patience he has melting away. “Why are you in my office, Harold?”

He hurries toward Harvey’s desk and holds out a folder. “I noticed Jimmy was working on the Carnahan case for you? But he didn’t...um...he missed some precedent.”

Harvey takes the folder. That’s exactly the mess he was smoothing over. “So you took it upon yourself to do work on a case you weren’t assigned?”

His voice is small, meek, and he winces when he speaks, like he’s waiting for a reprimand. “I didn’t want you to go into the meeting tomorrow unprepared.”

Harvey sizes him up. Harold needs a lot of work, but he’s just saved Harvey a lot of work tonight, and he’s already proved himself more competent than Jimmy and Aaron and whatever the hell the rest of their names are, so Harvey can ignore that for now. 

“How long will it take you to go through the entire Carnahan contract?”

He hesitates. “You want me to work on the Carnahan contract?”

Harvey sighs audibly. His patience level is going down again.

“I can have it by five.”

 Harvey nods. When Harold doesn’t move, Harvey looks down pointedly at his watch then back up again. “You might want to get started.”

He scurries out the door, barely sparing Jessica a glance as he passes her.

“Terrifying the help again, are we?”

He gives her his most winning smile. “No more than usual.”

“How’s Carnahan coming?”

“I’m closing him tomorrow.”

She eyes him. “Good. Get it done. I don’t want any hanging threads before the benefit Saturday.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

This benefit was orchestrated in large part as a celebration of their new partnership with Carnahan Electronics, with an aim to fund raise an absolutely obscene amount of money for music programs across the city. It’s Elise Carnahan’s pet charity, and everyone knows the way to Frank Carnahan’s heart is to make Elise happy. All Harvey has to do is make sure the contract is impeccable.

It’s going to be a long night.

+

It’s so late when he gets home from the office that he doesn’t expect there to be any music, not really.

He’s still disappointed when nothing comes floating through his open patio door. He has to fill in the silence with a Coltrane album.

It’s not quite enough.

+

The contract is impeccable. Frank signs.

When Jessica grants him her nod of approval, he excuses himself with a handshake to Frank and gives himself the rest of the day off. He’s earned it, but someone else as earned something too, and Harvey stops by the associate bullpen and makes sure to give Harold his due in front of everyone for a job well done. He perks up considerably, like Harvey’s the first person to ever tell him he’s done a good job. Harvey gives him a quick once-over. He looks like he rolled out of bed completely clothed this morning.

Christ, this guy is going to take a lot of work.

But at least he actually knows how to do his damn job. Everything else, Harvey can fix.

“Do you have a tux?”

He’s guessing the answer is no, but people have surprised him before.

“I can get one?”

Harvey suppresses his sigh. Everything with Harold is a question. “Get one. And make sure it fits you. You’re coming to the benefit tomorrow.”

Harold stands, eyes wide, and Harvey hears the jealous gasps around them. Harold will be the only associate there. It’s a major win for him, and Harvey knows exactly what he’s done for him by offering.

“You want me to come to the benefit?”

“You earned it.”

Harold sputters out a heartfelt thank you as Harvey just nods and says, “A tux that fits, Harold.”

Harvey’s not holding his breath, but he can hope.

+

The deal is done, everyone’s happy, so he turns his phone on silent and enjoys the rest of his day. Harvey picks up lunch to go, then goes for a midday run through the park. When he’s done he pulls open the patio door as he always does these days and takes a long, hot shower, relishing the way the water pounds at his back.

There’s an afternoon game on between the Royals and the Blue Jays, so he puts that on, volume on low, and sinks down into the couch, a beer in hand.

Harvey hears the first notes come filtering down through his patio door when the second inning comes to a close and he stands, walks over to the open door and slips out onto the patio.

It’s the song he requested.

Harvey sits down and leans back on his lounge chair, sets his beer down on the patio. He closes his eyes and smiles as the notes flow into one another like a cascading wave: a beautiful, bright, expressive piece of music, that Harvey’s neighbor plays absolutely beautifully.

When the notes finally fade away, Harvey’s eyes blink open and he claps, loudly and unreservedly, his heart utterly full.

+

“Jessica,” Harvey says as he walks up to greet her, glass of champagne in his hand. “You look gorgeous.”

She smiles fondly then cuts her eye to the other side of the room. “I see you brought...”

She trails off at the site of Harold across the room, looking unsure and unkempt even as his tux, miraculously, seems to fit him. Small victories.

“He needs work, but he did most of the legwork for Carnahan, and he did it well. Besides, Carnahan liked him.” As if to punctuate this, Frank Carnahan walks over and slaps a surprised Harold on the back then pumps his hand, thanking him for the good work. “He deserved this.”

Jessica just nods, a knowing smile on her lips, then walks over to the stage to introduce their first performer for tonight’s event: a pianist from the New York Philharmonic she’d called in one of her favors to secure. He’s already standing by the black baby grande with a sweet smile on his face, looking at Jessica as she approaches. 

Harvey moves a little closer and just misses the tail end of their conversation, but he doesn’t miss the familiar way they look at each other, the gentle affection they have for each other. Jessica squeezes his hand and turns toward the room.

“I’m sure most of you know Mike Ross, the principal pianist for the New York Philharmonic, but Elsie...I’m told he’s a special favorite of yours.” Elsie nods, a big smile on her face, her hand over her heart. “So I mentioned our benefit to him the other day over lunch and he insisted on helping.”

She smiles at him and Mike smiles back. “Music education, and arts education, is so important to me. I wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for Mrs. Monroe and PS forty-nine.” That gets an appreciative chuckle from the crowd and Mike smiles at them. “Music opens up worlds. Thank you for supporting arts education, and thank you for letting me play for you today.”

He nods at Jessica and sits on the piano bench and she steps off the little stage and comes to stand next to Harvey.

Mike’s hands barely start moving before Harvey recognizes the piece he’s decided to play.

Harvey could be mistaken, but the pacing, the quick finger work, the emotion...they all sound an awful lot like Harvey’s laying out on his patio, listening to his neighbor play.

No. It can’t be.

But it is. As Mike’s fingers play the last few, quiet notes, Harvey knows it has to be. That’s his neighbor.

Mike walks over to them and Jessica praises him, which Mike accepts with a bashful smile, ducking his head under her praise. He’s fairly young, or he looks it, with that fluffy hair and those bright blue eyes. His own eyes have skittered to Harvey in interest as Jessica introduces them, then walks off to introduce the next performer, a cellist.

Harvey means to just shake his hand, to say his name, but he has to know. “Apartment twenty-three?”

His eyes widen a little and he gives Harvey an obvious once-over, then hesitatingly, hopefully, asks, “Apartment forty-eight?”

Harvey grins and nods, and Mike almost lights up in front of him.

“You have talented fingers.” Mike blushes, ducks his head. “I’ve been listening to you for so long from my patio, I’ve wondered what it would be like to hear you up close.”

He looks up. “And the verdict?”

Harvey takes a step closer. “Beautiful.” He’s gratified to see the light dance in his eyes. “But maybe I should hear you again, just to make sure it’s not a one-time impression.”

This time Mike takes a step closer, and his eyes drop briefly to Harvey’s mouth. “Are you inviting yourself over?”

“Only if I’m welcome.”

+

The thing is, Harvey knew Mike could play, but he didn’t know Mike could sing. With Mike in his lap, Harvey latches his mouth on Mike throat and tries to coax out another groan, another moan, another note as Mike’s hands skitter across Harvey’s skin, find sensitive places Harvey didn’t even know he had.

“I know you know this, but I’m going to say it anyway. If your roles were reversed, if that car had hit you, then Mike-”

“Would’ve forced his way into my hospital room and never left my side,” Harvey said, smiling softly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t you think he’d want you there with him?”

“Yes!” Mike cried, moving closer still. “Is that what’s happening? Am I lying in a hospital room somewhere?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to handle seeing him like that.”

Mike’s mind was reeling. Was he still alive? Had his spirit just left his body, and somehow found Harvey? Maybe Harvey could take him back, reunite spirit and body, wake Mike up…

“Harvey, please. I need you.”

Harvey sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Donna furrowed her eyebrows. “You know what?”

“That Mike needs me.”

Donna opened her mouth as though she was going to say something but in the end thought better of it. Instead she smiled reassuringly at him, before picking up his jacket and leading him out of the apartment.

Mike felt wired, overcome with hope. He wasn’t dead! Sure, he clearly wasn’t in the best health, and his soul had been separated from this body, but still. It wasn’t over. He headed towards the door, and suddenly…

… he was standing in a hospital room. It was blindingly bright after the dim mood lighting of Harvey’s apartment. He looked down and could see himself lying in the bed, covered in cuts and bruises, hooked up to too many machines.

Mike didn’t blame Harvey for not wanting to see Mike like this. In truth, standing there, Mike kinda didn’t want Harvey to see him like this either.

No sooner had the thought entered his head did the door to the room open and admit Harvey. He looked pale and drawn, and Mike automatically took a few steps towards him before he remembered. Harvey couldn’t see him, he couldn’t hear him, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to feel him if he reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. So Mike just stood there, watched Harvey cross the room and gingerly sit in the uncomfortable looking chair beside his bed.

For the longest time Harvey didn’t say or do anything. He just sat there, unblinkingly looking at Mike. A tear silently streaked down Harvey’s cheek before he swiped it away, and Mike’s heart broke for him. For both of them.

“They said you’d want to hear my voice,” Harvey said at last, his tone low and rough. It was the best sound Mike had ever heard. “But I don’t know what to say. The whole drive over here, I kept thinking about it. What would I say to you, what magic words would bring you back to me. But there aren’t any words that will instantly wake you up, and I refuse to sit here and babble on about the weather or some shit. You wouldn’t want to hear that anyway, if you can hear me at all.”

“I can hear you,” Mike said desperately.

Harvey sighed. He eased forward in his chair and tentatively picked up Mike’s hand. Mike’s breath caught in his throat. He felt the touch like a tingling white light. “I can feel you,” Mike murmured. “Harvey, I can feel you.” He stepped closer. “Please tell me you can feel me too. I’m not gone, Harvey. Please.”

Harvey was looking down the bed towards Mike’s face. “You feel so real,” Harvey whispered. “Mike. Are you still here?”

“Yes!”

“There are so many things I want to tell you. Things I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Mike was torn between wanting to hear everything Harvey had never said and hoping Harvey would remain silent, that he would wait until Mike was awake so he could say it to his face.

“I give you my word, if you - no, when you wake up, I’ll tell you everything.”

Mike smiled softly. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Harvey reverted back to silence then. He still kept hold of Mike’s hand, idly running his fingertips along the back of his hand, and Mike’s skin tingled at the touch. Time lost all meaning, and though Mike didn’t know how this had happened, how he’d become separated from his body or why he wasn’t going back, he was strangely calm about it. He probably should’ve been panicking, worrying about never waking up, but being in Harvey’s presence was like a relaxing tonic, and he didn’t worry. Despite having no idea about the extent of his injuries or his prognosis, he just had this weird faith that he’d be okay.

As the hours passed two separate doctors came in to check on him. Harvey spoke to both of them in quiet whispers, as though Mike was simply asleep and he was worried about waking him. Mike didn’t listen in on the conversation. He didn’t want to know, not right now anyway.

Mike watched the room slowly brighten with the morning sun. Harvey was still holding his hand, but he was resting his head on his folded arm on the end of Mike’s bed, obviously tired from the long night. His eyes were still wide open though, staring at Mike like … like he was afraid if he closed his eyes Mike might not be there again when he opened them.

When the door opened Mike expected it to be another doctor. Instead Louis walked in the door. Harvey sat, withdrawing his hand. Mike instantly missed the presence of his touch.

“How’s he doing?” Louis asked with clear concern.

“Stable,” Harvey replied. In other words: no change.

“You should get some rest.” When Harvey looked like he was going to object Louis continued with, “I’ll stay with him, make sure he isn't alone. Go get some food, have a shower, take a nap. Come back later. Mike will need you at full strength when he wakes up.”

Harvey managed to give Louis a weak smile. “Okay. Just give me a minute.”

Louis nodded, quietly exiting the room.

Harvey took Mike’s hand again. Mike felt the flare of warmth at the touch. He desperately didn’t want Harvey to leave, suddenly scared that if he left something bad would happen. And honestly, at that point, it wasn’t that he was scared of dying. He was basically half dead already. It was just, if he did end up moving on from this life, he didn’t want to do it alone. In many ways Mike finally started living the moment he met Harvey. If this was his fate, he didn’t want to go through it alone, he wanted Harvey by his side.

Harvey’s eyes roamed over Mike’s prone form. There was nothing of the poker face he was infamous for in his expression. The pain he was clearly feeling was obvious and Mike hated to see it.

“Please wake up,” Harvey said desperately, but there was no change, the monitors in the room continuing their monotonous tone. Harvey let out a shaky sigh, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to the back of Mike’s hand in farewell.

It felt like Mike’s chest was exploding with warm, white light. He tried to say Harvey’s name, but he couldn’t speak. The feeling spread throughout his body as Harvey crossed the room to leave. Mike reached out to him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t --

Mike opened his eyes, taking in a large lungful of air. The machines he was hooked up to beeped loudly and when his vision came into focus all he could see was Harvey’s face, his watery eyes and shaky smile and blinding expression of relief.

“Mike!” he exclaimed, squeezing his hand. Mike no longer felt the same tingle when Harvey touched him, but that was okay, because this was real, and it felt a million times better. Mike tried to smile, but it hurt, now that he was awake everything hurt. “Thank God you’re okay.”