For those of you who watch Suits, this is my tribute to what happened after the most recent Season Finale. Hope you like it. Be advised, there are some spoilers
The City That Never SleepsShe listened to the ice cubes clink as she gently swirled her half empty glass of scotch. Watching the amber eddies swirl in the tumbler, she placed it gently on the table next to his. Macallan 15, two fingers, neat. He was a creature of habit; it had only taken her one week of working with him to get his bar order correct. It had taken her years to learn the intricacies of him, which was exactly why she knew she needed to be here tonight. Leaning back on the couch in his semi darkened condo, she pulled her legs closer underneath her and shimmied the skirt of her bridesmaids dress down for warmth. Studying the lights of New York out the window, she let the exhaustion set in. After giving a teary Louis a hug, she had left the destruction of Pearson Spector and Litt, to check on Rachel. She had helped her take her dress off, and stroked her hair while she cried herself to sleep. She had carefully preserved the dress in its garment bag; there was no doubt in her mind Rachel would need it again. Now she had ended up here. He had given her a key many years ago after he had locked himself out of the condo and almost missed a trial start because he couldn’t get back inside. She had used it periodically as he needed her to throughout the years. Despite the fact that she had never let herself in without being asked to, she was completely convinced of her decision. He would need her tonight, but would be too proud to ask. She would take the asking from him. It was a couple of hours drive from the prison; he would have far too much time to think. A little twinge of fear gnawed at her. She had never seen Harvey quite so lost. He had tried to hide it as he got into the car beside Mike. From most other people, he had probably been successful. To her, the fear, failure and an unsettling overwhelming sadness had been plain as day. She shuddered slightly thinking about it. His eyes had confirmed for her what she had always know. At some point in the five years they had known each other, Mike had become family. Harvey was fiercely protective of family, and this would be his ultimate failure. Not even when his father died,, had she seen such despair. She shivered slightly reliving the moment. The distinctive grind of metal of a key in a lock pulled her from her reverie. He entered the darkened condo with the weight of the world on his shoulders, his white tuxedo shirt rumpled and unbuttoned and his double windsor long since loosened and untied. He looked about ten years older, his face drawn, his worry lines seemed to have deepened since she had seen him just a few hour ago. She stood to make her presence known. He started a bit, but understanding crossed his face and he managed a small smile in greeting. There was no need for an explanation, through that one glance, she knew he understood why she was there. That smile contained acceptance and thanks. Slowly, he walked toward her as she extended the readied glass of scotch in an unnecessary peace offering. Again, he managed a wan smile, taking the glass from her. He let his fingers linger on hers just slightly, taking fortitude both from the glass and her touch. He slid past her between the couch and the coffee table to sit on her other side. He allowed no space between them, his cool dress shirt resting against her bare arm. The closeness was not something he usually allowed, but something he desperately needed from her tonight. The honey colored liquid caught the twinkling lights from the window as he brought the etched glass slowly to his lips. The slight tremble in his hands was not lost on her. He sighed deeply and studied the city, the city that truly never slept. She watched a myriad of emotions swirl on his features highlighted by the glow of New York like a dark kaleidoscope of failure, despair, guilt, anger, and regret. She fought the urge to bolt, suddenly mortified by her intrusion on this very private man’s misery. Abruptly, he brought the glass back to his lips and swallowed the rest of the tumbler’s contents, as if willing the liquid to numb him faster. Placing the cup back on the table, he broke contact with her leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and t his forehead on his hand opposite to her, suddenly very interested in the grain of the hardwood floor. His lips formed a straight controlled line, while he clenched his jaw muscles to maintain control. Her heart tore in two as she realized the tension in his back and his shallow breaths represented Harvey Specter trying desperately not to cry. Gently, she made sure she was close enough to him that their legs brushed together, offering their version of consolation. Her touch broke his concentration just long enough for the first tear to fall. It slid slowly down his cheek to rest gently on the bow of his upper lip. He pursed his lips to rid himself of it. But the additional tears that followed its path betrayed him. Heartbroken, she gently wiped them from his cheek. He closed his eyes in defeat. Gently, he encircled her hand with his, drawing it to his lips. He kept both of their hands pressed against them; his lips wavered under their entwined fingers, and she felt them turn down as he lost his battle for composure. He trembled slightly as he drew in a shuddering breath. His despair unfurled in front of her as hot tear drops cooled on her finger tips with increasing frequency. With hitching breaths, he let his sorrow overcome him. She snaked her other arm around his back and drew herself into him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. She could feel his back muscles betray his silent sobs as he pressed their hands harder against his mouth to prevent them from escaping. Her body moved with his as he wordlessly poured his heart out to her. Each tear that ran down his cheek was an admittance to the guilt he felt for allowing this to happen; each muted a sob confession of his fear for who MIke would be in two years. She studied his face, tears still falling from his closed eyes, occasionally clinging to his eyelashes until gravity took over. His jaw was taught in a straight line, his nostrils flaring slightly, occasionally disrupting the path of a tear as it coursed down his cheeks. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that; him unable to contain his grief; her barely breathing. Eventually, he stilled, the tears slowed and his breathing steadied. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes still closed, never losing his grip on her hand. Gathering her into his arms, he lay down on the couch so her head rested on his chest. She curled into him as he swung his legs up to stretch out on the couch. Gently, he stroked her hair and she involuntarily snuggled closer to him, listening to his heart beat. Without warning she was impossibly tired, drained of even the ability to keep her eyes open. He seemed to understand this, and continuing his ministrations, she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. Not long after he watched her eyelids flutter closed for the last time, he too drifted off, into a sleep he knew would not have been possible without the incredible woman in his arms.