As of yet unbetaed. English isn´t my mother language, therefore there may be some mistakes.

I tried to research as much as possible. Because it has been some time since I last saw Suits, please excuse any discrepancy between my story and the series.

WARNING: Grief/Mourning. Implied/Referenced Self-Harm.

Mike stared at the umbrella.

It was an ugly thing. There probably wasn't a single person on this planet who would call this umbrella with its garish pink colour beautiful. But to Mike it was. Not because of its appearance, there he was in complete agreement with the rest of the world, but because of what this pink represented.

Harvey and Mike left the courthouse after they had won another case. It had been a divorce with subsequent custody battle that they had only taken because the client was a long-time client of Pearson & Specter and had asked for it as a personal favour.

"You!" Harvey and Mike turned around when they heard the incensed voice behind them. It was the wife – or rather ex-wife now – who just had lost the rights to her child.

"It´s your fault that I lost my son!" she screamed at them.

"Ms, it´s not our fault that you were so stupid to cheat on your man with a boy twenty years younger than you," Harvey smirked.

"Stupid fags!" the woman cursed and threw her umbrella at them. It didn't reach either of them, but fell on the ground halfway between Harvey and the woman, who wrinkled her nose at them in disgust, turned around and haughtily walked away.

Mike was about to say something when Harvey bend down and picked up the umbrella.

"At least we have our own gay-pink umbrella now," he said with a bright smile. Mike smiled right back.

It had become their ritual after that. Every time before a trial one of them would take out the pink umbrella from the cabinet and throw it at the other. It was Mike and Harvey´s can opener. Never had Mike felt so secure – so alive, carefree and happy – as in the moments when they had done their little ritual with the gay-pink umbrella. He was relatively sure that even Donna knew nothing about it.

"Mike," Donna´s voice was sounding strange. Bereft of the mirth and strength it usually displayed. Mike looked up from the papers he was currently working on and looked at Harvey´s secretary. She looked crestfallen, her skin pale and her eyes shining with tears.

"Donna, what happened?" Mike asked as he stood up and walked around the table to stand in front of the crying woman.

"I just got a call," the red-hair sobbed. "I-I-It´s Harvey. He had an accident."

Mike stood up, the umbrella still clutched tightly in his hand. He looked out of the windows. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon. Now the whole of New York was submerged into darkness. Mike could see the skyline of Manhattan and its artificial lights illuminating the night. So many people down there, and yet here he stood, feeling so lonely.

"…the car came from the side and crashed into them…"

"…internal bleeding…several ribs broken..."

"…dead on impact…"

"…there was nothing we could do…"

"I hate this day." Mike turned around and saw Jessica standing in the doorway. She looked as put together as always in her white costume and the immaculate nails. Sometimes Mike wondered if Jessica wasn't even human because she looked still the same as she had when he had been nothing more than a terrified associate bumping through the world of law. Not even time itself dared to cross the Iron Lady of Pearson, Litt & Ross.

"On any other day I can work as if nothing happened," she continued. "But every year when this day comes around I look into this office and expect to see the man that I picked from the mail room and sent to Harvard looking at me with that stupid grin of his." At the end of the sentence her voice broke. It spoke more than thousand words about their relationship that Jessica allowed herself to be vulnerable in Mike´s presence. They had come a long way over the past few years.

"Sometimes I look up from my desk and expect him to stroll in and brag to me about his latest impossible win," Jessica said as she stood beside Mike, both looking down on the city. "I expect Louis to storm in and rant about something stupid Harvey did – and Harvey countering with something about Louis' wife."

"God," Jessica sighed and a single tear run down her cheek. "How I hated those stupid comments!" Mike nodded. Harvey had been the only one ever to think of them as funny. "But then I remember that Louis has a wife now – had one for five whole years – and their currently in the process of 'adopting' another cat."

"He and Sheila are definitely…special," Mike commented, twirling the umbrella in his hand. Jessica just raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, why are you still here?" she asked. "And not home with wife and children?"

"The same reason you are still here and talking to me," Mike answered. "This –" he made a gesture to indicate the whole room "–this is better than a grave." He turned his head and looked at Jessica.

"I remember every single thing he said to me," Mike said. "Every single thing we did together. I remember that he stood right here – the basketball signed by Michael Jordan in his hand – and told me about the first case he handled as an associate."

"Harvey told you about that?" Jessica asked with a faint smile on her lips.

"He did." A moment of silence.

"There will never be another one like him," Jessica stated. Mike didn't say anything. There was no need to add something to an absolute truth. Jessica turned around and was about to leave the room when she put on of her hands on Mike´s shoulder.

"Don't stay too long," she said. "There are other places you should be. There´s a family waiting for you." Then Jessica left the room. Tomorrow neither she nor Mike would take about what had happened. Like they did every year.

The headstone was a simple thing: Just a block of black stone with Harvey´s name in silver on it. There was no date of birth and no date of death. Donna had told him that Harvey hadn't wanted strangers to know his age and pitying him for dying too young or congratulating him for growing too old.

"You weren't supposed to die," Mike whispered. All the other guests had already left after much crying. But Mike hadn't – couldn't – because there was still something that was holding him back. There was still something left to say even if there was no one there anymore to hear it.

"You were always there when everything else was lost to me," Mike continued, the first tears running down his cheeks. "You were there when Grammy died and I had nowhere else to go. You were there when Rachel kissed Logan and when she left me for good. You were the one to help me up when I was down. When I screwed up and didn't know what to do I always knew that I could count on you to protect me and help me out of the mess I created.

You gave me direction; you gave me a purpose – you made my life have a meaning again." Mike was sobbing now. "And now that you´re gone I don't know what to do anymore. Donna, Jessica – hell, even Louis – they look at me like I would fall apart at every moment. And they are right. I feel like I´m breaking. I want to shatter; I want to fracture, because maybe then it won´t feel like my heart is ripped out of my chest at every moment that I´m awake.

I haven't smoked, don't worry. I know that you would be pretty disappointed of me if I did. But sometimes I look at the razor blade in my hand and wonder: If I hurt myself strong enough will the pain in my heart stop?" Slowly Mike kneeled on the ground, one hand touching the gravestone.

"But then I remember that you wouldn't want me to live like this. So I force myself to move on. I want to make you proud. I want you to look down upon me one day and be proud to say that you were the one that made me the man I am today." Mike halted for a moment.

"I loved you Harvey. I still do."

The records Harvey had amassed over his lawyer carrier were still in the same place. Everything else had changed, but no one had touched Harvey´s most precious treasure. Mike led his fingers glide over the covers until he found what he was looking for. The Spinners. The ghost of a smile hushed over his face when he remembered that particular talk he had with Harvey. Mike walked over to the record player. When the needle touched the black vinyl the sound of Harvey´s favourite band echoed through the room.

Mike opened the door to his apartment.

"Scottie?" he asked disbelieving. The woman looked up. Her hair was completely dishevelled and her face was tear stained. She looked like a complete mess. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" Scottie asked. At first Mike wanted to shut the door in her face but the pained look on her face made him pause. Instead he stepped aside and allowed Scotty to enter.

"I just – I couldn't stay in the hotel room," she started after they had sat down on Mike´s battered couch.

"Not after…after…" She didn't need to say what she meant.

"You know how they always say, that you never know what you´ve got until it´s gone? Guess what? It´s true," she said hoarsely. "I had him once and I let him go because I thought he would always be there. I pulled some questionable moves on him, I hurt him but I never realized what I had – what he meant for me – until now. He was this constant, since the first year of law school and the only one truly equal to me. He had a big part in making me the woman I am today and I he never knew. He never knew what he meant to me; what he was to me, because I never told him – because I took him for granted." She sobbed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Mike asked, his voice raw. Scottie looked at him, her gaze so desperate and broken.

"Because you´re the only one who understands."

They sat on the couch until the sun set the next morning – crying and talking to chase away the ghost of the man they had both loved and lost.

"Mike, what are you still doing here?" Mike turned around to look at Donna who was standing outside the door with folded hands.

"Same procedure as every year, James," Mike said and Donna cracked a smile at the reference. He knew that Donna had her own way to grief on that day and that she didn't want to talk about it. She may be his secretary now, but there was no question as to who was the boss in this relationship.

"Where are the children?" Donna asked.

"With Scottie," Mike answered and Donna shock her head.

"If there is something I would have never seen coming," she said, "then it´s you and that woman starting a family."

"Stranger things did happen," Mike replied.

"I go and freshen up and when I come back you better be ready to leave," Donna warned and walked away. Doing as his goddess commanded Mike silenced the record player and switched off the light in the office.

One last time he looked at the gay-pink umbrella – his small little piece of past times – and put it back into the cabinet.

When he walked through the doorway he turned around and looked into the now empty and dark room. His gaze wandered to the letters next to the door. Michael James Ross – Name Partner.

It had been seven years since Harvey Specter had died and it still hurt sometimes. But Mike truly believed that Harvey would be proud of how his life had turned out.

After all, he was honorary godfather of Mike´s children.

"Ready to go?" Donna asked. Mike looked at the corner office that was both – his past and his future – and smiled.

"I´m ready."

I had this sudden desire to write a MCD-story with a rare pairing and I hope it turned out alright. I just go and cry in the corner now because of FEELINGS.

Comments and Kudos are love 3