Every time I watch The Other Time(S3xE6), I always imagine and hope for an episode where Mike and Harvey play baseball together. Thus, this is my way of coping while the show makes me wait for my wish to come true.

No character death, except those who've already passed.

On the Third Row from the Top of the Graveyard

The number three has been an unnatural presence all throughout his life starting with the third day of November of 1972 when his mother gave birth to him. He's three years old when his father takes him to his first Yankees game and he makes it three innings before having to go to the bathroom which leads to missing Mickey "Mick the Quick" Rivers hit a two-run triple off the third pitch. He makes little league the next year and is assigned the third digit despite his desire for number one, but when he hits his first home run in their third game the numerical three remains underneath his name on every jersey after that.

His younger brother, Marcus, is born during the third month of the year and by the time Harvey makes Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman they've had three fights between them come to blows in which Harvey had the advantage in every single one due to boxing experience and three inches of height.

The thing is, Harvey Specter doesn't consider himself superstitious, so by the time he's at Harvard on Jessica's dime he's forgotten about the importance of the number and plays by his own rules. He graduates fifth in his class, works for Cameron Dennis for two years, and enters Pearson Hardman as a second year associate. But the week he made Partner, he missed three phone calls from his father and Gordon Specter died of a heart attack before his son found the time to return any of them. The eldest Specter is buried on the third row from the top of the graveyard and Harvey makes it three days before he finds himself sitting at the base of it with a bottle of Macallan 18.

It's all to say that when Mike Ross appears out of nowhere four years later, Harvey is vaguely aware of himself trying to connect anything about the kid to the numerical number that seems to dictate his life when he least expects it, but aside from trivial things that Harvey just knows boils down to the kid's own damn fault, he can't find a connection.

That is, until the third time Mike requests a day off for the third day of November.

He doesn't even ask why, just nods his head, grabs a file off his desk he hadn't even bothered to look at yet, and walks out of the office like he's got somewhere to be. Mike doesn't come into work on Harvey's birthday and the only acknowledgement of the date is Donna sitting down in front of his desk and sliding a file across the top.

He opens it to a police report dated November 2, 1992 detailing a car accident caused by a drunk driver resulting in the deaths of James and Nina Ross who leave behind an eleven year old boy. He only moves his eyes to glance at his assistant which prompts her to reach forward and flip to the second page in the folder. He drops his gaze back down to find the address of where James and Nina Ross are buried and feels a strange weight across his chest when he reads plot numbers on the third row from the top of the graveyard.

Ray drives by the cemetery only because Harvey wants to take the long way to the courthouse to kill time, and through the tinted window, Harvey catches a hunched figured sitting in between two stone markers undoubtedly on the third row from the top.

By the time Mike's second year rolls around, Harvey's forgotten all about it until Mike walks into his office on the second of November and asks for the next day off. Harvey only nods and walks out of the office with half an excuse that leaves Mike squinting at Donna perched at her desk for an explanation he won't receive.

On the third of November, Mike doesn't show up for work and Harvey takes the long way to the courthouse on his birthday.

By the time it happens a third time, Donna's made sure to keep the third of November clear on his calendar and neither Harvey, Mike, or Ray, show up for work on Harvey's birthday even though the name partner of Pearson Specter still takes the long way to the courthouse just without any intention of actually getting there. Instead, he parks his car outside of the cemetery where there's a hunched figure in between two headstones and takes three breaths before grinding his jaw with the decision to step out of the vehicle.

He's not sure how long it takes to get there, but he knows it takes even longer for Mike to realize he's there and maybe even longer than that for the abrupt redness that explodes on the skin of Mike's ears to disappear.

"What, uh... what're you doing here?"

Harvey stuffs his hands in his pockets while tilting his head to the side with his all-knowing smirk, because he needs to find some semblance of normality in an otherwise unfamiliar situation. "Three years in a row, you think I wouldn't notice?"

"No. I know you noticed - the first year and the second. This isn't exactly the part of town where Lexus's just happen to pull up out front," Mike replies with a straight backbone, but he just can't quite get the heat in his ears to simmer down.

Harvey molds his mouth into a straight, tight line, his own way of keeping his ears a respectable skin tone, and nods his head while looking around the grounds. "So?," he asks, and Mike hunches, backbone just a little bit weaker physically and figuratively.

He settles his gaze back on the younger man, mouth back at ease because he's past the part where he thought his associate might have a gun loaded with something more than just blanks, past the part where Mike might begin to think he cares.

Mike pulls their famous metaphorical trigger with, "What do you mean?," but both realize it for the soft click of an empty chamber that it is. Harvey's taught him options when what to do when there's a gun to his head, but they're still working on holding his own.

"I mean," Harvey starts in a fair way, unwilling to shoot an unarmed man, "The date on the marker is November 2nd, you always show up on November 3rd."

"Is there a question?"

Harvey may have tried to be fair, but Mike seems to realize that it's Harvey that holds the gun in this situation and he's still young enough to bring a knife to a gun fight for just a few scrapes.

Harvey rolls his eyes, but gives Mike the satisfaction of giving in even though they both know Harvey could have won. "Why today? Why not yesterday?," his tone gentle in a way that causes Mike to look up at him as if he's just realized Harvey never had any intention of forcing this out of him for some selfish purpose and hunches over further, running a hand through his hair.

"I can remember everything about them. The way they looked when they were completely happy, the way they sounded when they were mad, the way the smelled when they got home from work. Any moment of any day that I was with them, I can tell you, but what I can't tell you is what they were like on November 3, 1992. I can't tell you if Dad spilt coffee on his shirt before heading out the door because he tripped on one of my shoes lying around, or if Mom said she was taking me to school in five minutes for us only to leave fifteen minutes later. I can't tell you, because I can't remember it and I can't remember it, because it never happened," Mike explained, finally losing the redness of his ears for all the color to only drain from his face. "It's...it's the only way I can see them, the only way they can exist, today, the day after the accident."

Mike's focus is back on the ground, his hand still running through his hair trying to make it look like he's simply doing it for that purpose and not to avoid Harvey's gaze, but the older man just watches him, just like that moment before he told Mike about his mom cheating on his dad when they were stoned.

"Every year, on the anniversary of the day that...Jessica made me partner, I go have a drink with my dad," Harvey says, and when Mike's head shoots up at the fact that Harvey is actually sharing personal information without fighting off cotton mouth, the older man raises the corner of his mouth slightly in a silent warning of, "Don't".

"He died that day, before I could tell him. If he hadn't, we would've shared a bottle of Macallan 18 and every year after that."

Mike nods, and although it's a small movement, it's a big understanding.

"Come on," Harvey says, taking his hands out of his pockets to clap them together and nudge his head in the direction of the car.

Mike raises an eyebrow, but stands regardless, playing into the puppy analogy they've tied around his neck without ever realizing it until Harvey grins. His mouth works like a fish around an, "Okay,but," to refute, but Harvey's already leading the way back to the car.

"Uh...what're we doing here?"

"It's a baseball field. What do you think?" Harvey responds while opening the trunk and pulling out a bat bag and a bucket of baseballs.

"Not... playing... baseball."

"Why not?"

"Because...you're you and ...well, you're you," Mike explains, but at the look Harvey gives him he quickly adds, " and it's the middle of the week and we should be at work."

"You asked for the day off," Harvey shoots back shutting the trunk and heading towards the field with Mike following closely behind.

"Did you?"

"My name's on the door and you think I ask somebody if I can take the day off?"

"Which means you took the day off after Donna cleared your calendar," Mike counters, as he grabs the bag of bats being pushed in his direction.

"Remind me tomorrow to tell Donna about that time you brought Norma coffee for two whole weeks because you thought she would help get Louis off your back."

"Actually, your name's on the door so you can do whatever you want, with or without Donna," Mike quickly corrects. "Let's play some baseball."

Harvey rolls his eyes, but takes the bucket of balls to the pitching machine set up on the pitcher's mound and loads some into it. Walking back, he pulls out a bat from the bag Mike had placed against the fence and gets a feel for it in his hands.

"You know that Donna already knows about you bringing coffee to Norma," Harvey says over his shoulder as he takes his hitting stance at the plate. The soft whoosh of the baseball being shot out of the machine cuts off anything Mike was about to say and Harvey swings for the fence, sending the ball three inches short of it.

It's forty minutes past six in the afternoon when Harvey finally sits down on the bench in the dugout as Mike boasts about his third over the fence home run while enthusiastically running the bases. Harvey watches him with an amused smirk before pulling two beers from the cooler underneath him and waits until Mike plops down beside him and accepts his can before opening his own.

"Cheers," they express simultaneously, and drink in silence for a while.

He's just about ready to get up and head home when Mike quietly says, "Thanks, Harvey," and both know it's for more than just a bat and a beer.

Harvey nods and waits three more minutes before telling Mike he was the one who told Donna about his coffee relationship with Norma.

A year later, Mike's running the bases like it's the bottom of an extra tenth inning in Game 7 of the World Series and it might as well be, because he's bet Harvey a week of having to strike up a conversation with Norma every morning that has to last no less than five minutes and they're neck and neck coming around second base. It's when they make it to third that Mike starts to realize that he's lost either way, because with no one to be the judge, the decision is ultimately left to Harvey. However, his legs seem to be all in because there's no stopping now and his boss isn't slowing down either. Instead, they're halfway down the third baseline when they glance at each other and know it'll be too close to call fairly, so both of them decide to win by a slide and end up in an awkward heap across home plate.

It's not until the last bit of dirt is spit from their mouths and the dust settles back down on the diamond that they burst out laughing and agree to split the bet between them with Mike getting three days and Harvey the other two, and the conversation with Norma only has to last three minutes instead of five.

It's the third year, and it's a silent tradition between them. If Donna knows about it, she never mentions it, but always makes sure the calendar is clear on Harvey's birthday. Louis has his suspicions, especially after Norma decided to add Harvey and Mike to his Christmas gift list last year with a post-it note saying, "They're a delight to talk to in the morning." Jessica simply gives Harvey a knowing look the day before.

Mike's already ran the bases for two home runs, decided to field the balls as Harvey bats in order to rob him of one of his, but otherwise be a tangle of limbs failing to reenact historic outfield catches, and they've made a bet that involves Louis' stress balls, a camera, and a picture frame kept at the bottom of Donna's desk drawer which Mike doesn't win, by the time they're sharing a beer on the bench in the dugout two hours before they usually do.

They sit in their normal silence, Harvey enjoying it while waiting for the usual, "Thanks, Harvey," but this year is different as it never comes and he should have known.

Instead, Mike stands up from the bench, slaps him on the shoulder, and tilts his head in the direction of the car. "Come on," he directs, and Harvey wants to protest, but he has an image of himself telling Mike that two years ago and decides he should show the same level of trust.

He knew where they were going by the time they got to the train station, but still doesn't refuse. He reasons with himself that he follows without question because Mike looks like he's bordering between having an anxiety attack or being extremely proud of himself and he just wants to see which way he falls, but a part of him knows it's more than that and if he wasn't against having emotion he might read more into it.

It's when they finally make it to their destination that Harvey starts to regret his decision to let a puppy lead off his leash, but said puppy takes three shot glasses from his pocket and pulls a bottle of Macallan 18 out of a brown paper bag like he's finally all grown up. Harvey can only watch as Mike sets the three glasses up on the marker and pours the drink as if he's watched Harvey do it for the past six years.

Mike takes one in his own hand with fingers a bit unsure of the uncharted territory they're trying to figure out, but a heart unwilling to be thrown off course, and extends one to Harvey, leaving the third to the company he's traveled all this way meet.

He's respectful of the man he's never met, even going so far as to tip his glass in a silent cheer towards the gravestone before turning back to Harvey. "I know it's not the day you made partner, but he probably would've wanted to share a drink with you anyway," Mike says, raising his glass in Harvey's direction. "Just like my parents would want me to remember and care about something that actually happened. So thanks, Harvey, and Happy Birthday."

Harvey can only nod, accept the toast, and tip his glass back because he finally realizes that he's celebrating his birthday for the first time since his father died and a part of him wants to throw a punch at the kid in front of him for making him do this, but before the anger can seize him, Mike starts asking questions about his father. Did he like baseball too? Did you guys play together? What did he look like? Please, tell me he's not the reason you were styling your hair like a douche when we first met- I mean, what? No, I didn't say that. Can I hear some of his music sometime?

And somehow, someway, he admits to himself that Mike reminds him of Marcus, asking all kinds of questions he thinks Harvey absolutely knows the answer to, with a heart on his sleeve left unprotected, and he finds himself wishing his dad knew about three sons instead of just two. But as Mike turns to the headstone and asks out loud for stuff he can give Harvey shit for like Gordon Specter is sitting right in front of them alive and well, Harvey realizes on the third row from the top of the graveyard that his dad probably does.

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!

And if there's ever an episode where Mike and Harvey play baseball together, it will forever be my favorite and I'll die of happiness.