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Harvey walked briskly across the lobby of his building, barely acknowledging the doorman’s greeting. Using his key he entered his private elevator, hand clenched so tightly around the handle of his briefcase his knuckles were white. The moment the doors closed behind him, shutting out the rest of the world, he started to shake. He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the cool metal of the doors, letting out a shaky breath. He felt too hot, his clothes were too tight and there was a restless ache in his bones, one he couldn’t seem to soothe. Just a few more minutes, he told himself, you can hold it together for just a little longer.
Finally, finally, the elevator dinged and opened into the living room of Harvey’s penthouse condo. He stumbled into the room, letting numb fingers drop his briefcase. He stripped off his tailored jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, uncaring. He started moving, walking haltingly down the hallway toward the master bath, shedding clothing as he went. He felt unbalanced and heavy, like the world had readjusted its center of gravity while he wasn’t looking. “God damn it, Harvey, get a grip,” he told himself as he leaned heavily on the doorframe of the bathroom. He pushed himself upright, desperate to wash this day off, to do something to ease the ache inside him, the fevered tightness of his skin. A hot shower, maybe a bottle of scotch, something, anything but that.
Harvey’s eyes burned and his vision started to blur. Blinking fast he adjusted the water temperature to just this side of scalding and stepped into the shower. He turned his face into the spray, letting the water wash away the tears as they fell. He leaned against the tiled wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor, the water rushing over him. Harvey let out a harsh laugh that came out more like a sob at the thought of anyone from the firm, anyone at all, seeing him like this. To the world he was Harvey Specter, senior partner and golden boy of one of New York’s most powerful law firms. He was the best damn closer in the city, always in control, three steps ahead of everyone else, fazed by nothing. This morning he’d been fine, everything had been fine, until suddenly it wasn’t. In a single phrase he’d felt all his control slipping away, his carefully constructed world shattering into chaos.
Harvey stepped out of his office with the intent of murdering Louis. Really, it would be justifiable homicide, no jury would convict. No one approached him; a few even scurried to get out of his way. He stormed into Louis’ office and with one glare the paralegal speaking to Louis hurriedly gathered her papers and fled the office.
“Harvey, what a lovely surprise. You know I always enjoy our little chats, but was it really necessary to scare away Amy like that?” Louis said with a sharp grin. Harvey gripped the back of one the chairs in front of Louis’ desk to stop himself from punching the little troll in the face.
“What the actual fuck, Louis? You have all the associates working on the Stark-Xavier merger. All of them.” Harvey growled.
“Well, yes. Two of the firm’s biggest clients in a corporate merger? We need to ensure that it goes smoothly.” Louis answered smugly, leaning back in his chair.
“You knew goddamn well that I had Mike working on the Levine case. I needed those briefs an hour ago.” Louis knew as well as Harvey did that the entire case was resting on finding a pinprick-sized loophole that could save Mr. Levine’s company and his dignity. Harvey had dropped twelve boxes of contracts, counter-contracts, amendments and codas at Mike’s cubicle that morning and made it clear that he was not to leave his desk until he’d found that pinhole. And Harvey had just spent half an hour trying to convince Mr. Levine that Pearson Hardman was still the best firm to represent his interests and the man was still threatening to take his business to Wakefield – Cady. Louis shrugged.
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your own cases, Harvey. Jessica must be so disappointed with her newest Senior Partner. Maybe she’ll realize - ” Harvey spun around and left the office abruptly, before Louis finished that sentence – Harvey was certain that if Louis did he really would punch the bastard. He knew Louis still felt burned by Harvey’s promotion but he’d never dreamed that he would go so far as to sabotage a high profile, volatile case.
After leaving Louis Harvey stalked through the halls of Pearson Hardman, not going anywhere in particular, just going. It had been a stressful week, Hell, a stressful month, and it had been wearing on him. Somewhere on the third floor he clenched his hands in his pockets to hide the fine trembling. There was a tightness in his chest that had been growing for days, weeks, it was squeezing the breath out of him, leaving him gasping and shaking. Harvey needed to get out of the building, leave now, before he suffocated.
Harvey turned and headed for his office, he just needed to pick up a few things and then he could be gone. He was nearly there, so close, when he heard someone call his name.
“Harvey, in my office.” Harvey grimaced. If it was anyone but Jessica he could get away with ignoring them, but as it was he changed course and stepped past Jessica into her office. She closed the door gently behind him.
“I need you on the Stark-Xavier merger with Louis. Mr. Stark wants to take another look at some of the clauses and Louis is busy handling the Xavier board,” she said as she walked back to her desk. The muscles in Harvey’s shoulders tensed up so hard it hurt and the little shock of pain let him focus enough to nod calmly. His hand was on the door handle when Jessica added, “The Levine case – I don’t care how you do it but you will fix it. You have three days.” That was when Harvey broke.
The water was getting cold, the change bringing Harvey back to himself. His skin prickled from the heat, but the suffocating tightness, the ache, was still there. It was like the chaos had gotten inside him and it was making his skin crawl and he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to make it stop. He stood carefully and shut off the water. He was grateful as he reached for a towel to find that the mirrors had completely fogged over, that he wouldn’t be confronted with the evidence of his tears, even though his eyes felt tired and swollen. As he wrapped the towel around his waist his eyes darted to the cabinet under the sink. He stood utterly still, water dripping from his wet hair, his mind drifting back to the minute in Jessica’s office when the sharp pain that had skittered down his spine had given him a moment of clarity, enough control to get out of the building without breaking down. Then he found himself bending down, reaching to the very back of the cabinet before he’d even decided to. He pulled out a small black bag. Harvey sat, back against the steam-warmed porcelain of the tub, unable to tear his eyes from it. Slowly, oh so slowly, he opened it to reveal the razors nestled carefully, almost lovingly, within. Pulling out one of the immaculately clean blades, he watched the light glint off it. Then he set blade to flesh and pushed.
Harvey’s body tingled, but he felt loose, calm. There was a hot, sharp hurt in his thigh, the result of the razor biting deep into skin and muscle. He knew it would settle into more of a deep, warm ache in a few hours. Harvey watched blood seep sluggishly from one of the deeper slashes, pooling on the tile beneath him. He knew it was time to pull out the first aid kit and patch himself up, but for long minutes all he could do was run his fingertips, stained with his own blood, across the crosshatch of scars already marking his inner thigh. He thought about how these newest marks would heal, how they would stand out, angry and red, against the silvered white of the older scars. Closing his eyes he lost himself in the texture under his fingers, the story of his failures etched into his flesh, Braille only he could read. He sighed. He wasn’t happy, he was never happy after, just…empty. And for now that was enough. The guilt and recriminations would come soon enough. He was just leaning forward, wincing as the movement tore some the clots that hard started to form, looking for his first aid kit when he heard the elevator ding. Harvey froze, hand in the air.
“Harvey?” a voice called. Mike’s voice. Harvey remembered that part of his instructions that morning was that Mike get the revised briefs for the Levine case to him the moment they were done, no matter the hour, and fuckfuckfuckfuck how could he have forgotten that he’d given Mike a key to the elevator? And, oh God, he could hear Mike moving further into the condo, calling out “Harvey? Are you here? Donna said you’d gone home.” Harvey felt his eyes widen, he was frozen and he couldn’t breathe. Oh God, his heart was pounding, he could hear it, it was deafening. And holy shit, Donna, she could not find out and the bathroom door was open and Harvey’s vision was starting to grey out. He was hyperventilating, and he still couldn’t move and Mike’s hushed footsteps were in the hallway and then there he was, standing in the doorway, looking at Harvey with such open shock on his face that Harvey’s eyes started to burn. He let his hand drop to the floor and stared back at Mike.
“Oh, Harvey,” Mike said and why did it sound like he was the one about to cry, it was Harvey who’d fucked up, again, and then Mike was there, kneeling next to him. Harvey closed his eyes and tried to just breathe, and the moment was stretching out, trapping him in it, longer than any moment had the right to. Finally he heard the whisper of fabric as Mike removed his jacket, then sensed him leaning over Harvey to reach into the cabinet. Harvey slumped forward, letting his head drop to his chest, listening to the sounds of Mike opening the first aid kit, then tearing open bandages.
“Mike,” he pleaded, voice cracking.
“Shhh,” Mike said. “Just relax, Harvey.” Then there was a warm hand on the back of Harvey’s neck; thumb rubbing soothing circles into the knotted muscle. Harvey let him. He shuddered once when Mike started to clean the raw wounds, but with each gentle stroke, each moment Mike’s hand remained on his skin his breath came easier. There was a heavy lassitude spreading through his body, thick and syrupy, seeping through his mind, leaving him exhausted. He roused enough to lift his head when he felt Mike tying the gauze wrapping tightly around his thigh.
“Alright, Harvey. Let’s get you into bed.” Mike’s hand hadn’t left Harvey’s neck as he said this, nor when he took his hand. Harvey was grateful when Mike let him lean on him as he stood, he wasn’t sure he could do it on his own right now. Harvey let Mike lead him down the hall to his bedroom, let Mike tuck the blankets around him. He sighed when Mike ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly over his scalp. He was so very tired, he felt a little like he was floating and he knew there was something he should be thinking about, something he needed to say but then a soft voice whispered “Sleep, Harvey, I’ll be here when you wake up.” As the hand continued to card through his hair Harvey stopped fighting the weight of sleep that was pressing down on him. He was on the very edge of unconsciousness when he thought he felt the soft press of lips against his temple, but no, that couldn’t be right. Dreams like that didn’t come true.