A/N: So here we are, we finally made it. The final chapter. I'm falling asleep at my computer right now so it's not quite what I wanted it to be. But it says what I think I wanted it to and it pretty much ties all the loose ends. I hope it lives up to expectations. If I read it tomorrow and it's terrible, I might edit it and repost, but here's hoping that's not needed...THanks as always to all the readers, reviewers and lurkers!

Donna's heels clicked loudly through the courtroom hallway. She'd had a hell of a time with one of Harvey's pickier clients who'd insisted he needed an appointment today regardless of what else his lawyer had going on.

Well Donna had set him straight on that sure enough.

The only place Harvey needed to be today was right where he was. Right where Donna needed to be.

And Mr. Dawson would take his four pm appointment for next Tuesday and he would like it.

Donna flipped her hair off her shoulder as she approached the courtroom where the Baker trial was taking place. The security guard started to stand to stop her but, upon seeing the look on her face and remembering her from previous days during the trial, he merely held a finger to his lips and pulled the door open for her.

Donna gave him a thin smile as thank you and obviously I know to be quiet nitwit and made her way inside.

Mike was on the stand, looking for all the world to be about 12 years old and staring at the defense attorney like he'd just insulted his mother.

And really, he had.

Donna took the seat right behind the partition separating the room where Jenny usually sat. But the blonde had been called away on a family emergency and Donna had been planning to attend the last day of the trial anyway. With a deep breath, she turned to face Mike and attempt to glare a hole in the back of opposing council's head.

"As you can see, Mr. Ross," Lawrence Dobson handed Mike a piece of paper, which the younger man glanced at with a grimace, "the DNA that was found in your mother was not your father's, or Mr. Baker's."

"That doesn't sound like a question." came Mike's terse response, using all his willpower not to ball up the stupid white paper and stomp it under his foot. Over Dobson's shoulder he saw Harvey set his jaw and give him a minute shake of his head.

Settle, Mike. Take it easy.

Mike took a deep breath and shifted in the chair.

I'm trying.

"You're right," the lawyer nodded, pacing slowly with one hand in the pocket of his brown suit. "Here's one. Are you really telling me that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are 100% sure that the man you saw that night was Theodore Baker? That there's simply no chance whatsoever that you're ten year old mind saw something else instead of the truth, or that the memory of that night hasn't warped even slightly in the past fifteen years?" The man asked, and his eyebrows would have been at his hairline if it hadn't faded significantly toward the back of his head.

"Objection your honor, badgering the witness." Harvey leapt out of his chair.

"Overruled council. Sit. Down," the dark woman glared over her glasses at him. She'd had enough of this fancy lawyer objecting to just about everything the opposing council said to this kid on the stand.

Mike raised a subtle eyebrow at Harvey.

Now who needs to settle down?

Harvey gave a tiny roll of his eyes and smirked.

Shut it.

"Mr. Ross? An answer to my question?"

Mike slowly brought his eyes back over to the prosecution and sighed, tilting his head, "Honestly?"

"Well, you are under oath. I'm sure I don't need to remind a lawyer of what that means."

Mike nodded, pursing his lips, a dangerous edge in his eyes.

"No. There's no chance."

"Now Mr. Ross-"

"You wanted me to answer honestly, Mr. Dobson, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me do so." Mike cut the man off.

He glanced at the jury before continuing.

"Honestly, I wish there was. Its been fifteen years, you're right, and I still remember it like it was this morning. I still remember the panic in my father's voice when he yelled for my mom to call 9-1-1. And I remember the way she screamed when he..." Mike swallowed hard and continued bravely, looking over at the Harvey, who nodded.

Go on. You can do it.

"When Baker raped her." Mike's voice cracked over the word but he bulldozed forward. "I wish, Mr. Dobson, that I could close my eyes at night and not see my mother's blood on the bedroom wall. And I wish I didn't see Baker's face every time I breathe. If it weren't for this damn memory maybe I wouldn't find it so hard to sleep at night."

He took another breath, letting his eyes roam over the audience in the courtroom, to Donna and Harvey and Todd. He shook his head.

"And I get it. My parent's marriage wasn't perfect. I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing that, so thanks," he tossed an accusing glance at the defense attorney, his heart twisting in his chest at the thought of his mother with another man.

"But to answer your question. Yes. I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt what happened that night...I'm not any more sure now than I was when I was ten years old that Baker is the man who killed my parents. Because there wasn't a doubt in my mind back then about what I saw, and there isn't one now. Theodore Baker raped and killed my mother and father and there's only one place he belongs more than a maximum security prison." For the first time Mike pulled his eyes over to Baker. The man's face was red, an angry snarl on his lips. Mike spoke his next words cold and quiet, meant only for Baker's ears.

"And that's death row."

"Now remember, Mike, if the lawyer asks you a question you're not sure how to answer, what do you do?" Todd Nevins was standing, pacing the length of his office, trying to cram in some last minute trial prep with Mike before the hearing the next day.

Mike rubbed his eyes with both fists and answered around a large yawn, "don't fidget. Tell the truth."

Todd nodded, satisfied with the answer. He tugged at his tie, loosening it and then pulling it off altogether, tossing it onto his desk.

"And where do you look when you're answering a question?"

He waited, but no answer was immediately forthcoming.

"Mike?" Todd asked and came around to the other side of the couch the small boy was sitting on to see more than just the top of his mop of blonde hair. A smile curled under his bushy mustache at what he found. Shaking his head, he took his suit jacket off the arm and draped it over the child's body. Mike had curled up in the fetal position and was pressed back into the arm of the couch, face relaxed in sleep.

"I guess that concludes trial prep for today," he muttered, and got up to find the number to call Mike's grandmother among the piles of paper on his desk.

"Todd?" A sleep muddled voice called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you b'come a lawyer?" Mike slurred, not even opening his eyes.

Todd sat down beside Mike on the couch and clasped his hands, thinking.

"I guess I…well I wanted to help people." He said, thinking of the numbers of terrible criminals he'd put in prison over the past twenty years. He smiled, remembering some of the looks of gratitude grieving families often gave when they felt justice had been served.

"I thought doct'rs did that."

Todd looked over at Mike and slowly reached out to smooth the blonde hair off his forehead. He sighed.

"Other people do too, Mike. In whatever way they can."

Mike shifted, burrowing deeper into the arm of the couch.

"Todd?"

"Yeah," Todd answered back, out of habit. The kid was nearly dead to the world.

"Thanks for helpin' me an' Grammy. Maybe I'll be a lawy'r too someday."

Todd felt a place in his chest warm at the sleepily spoken words and the innocent, awestruck adoration Mike seemed to doll out so easily.

"You know Mike," Todd said quietly, "I have no doubt you'll excel wat whatever it is you decide to put that incredible mind to."

Mike stood close to Harvey when the jury reentered the courtroom to deliver their verdict. It had been barely two hours. Harvey, Mike and Todd and the new prosecutor from the DA's office were ushered into a conference room on another floor of the courthouse when the jury was dismissed for deliberation. Mike had sat at the table staring out the window the first hour. Eventually Harvey had bullied him into eating a half an applesauce and Jenny appeared at some point and held his hand for the rest of the time.

Mike didn't remember anything else, though if he tried he could quiet easily pull up the memory to match each moment, but it was like watching a movie about his life. He felt unattached and floaty in the memories. Like they weren't really his. Except the anger. He remembered the anger.

He wondered if it would ever completely go away.

Mike fidgeted beside him and Harvey looked over to give him a warning glance, Mike stilled but didn't look him in the eye, afraid he other lawyer would read his mind.

He clenched his hands into fists and jammed them into his pockets, ignoring the burning sensation on his neck that told him Baker was in the room. He watched the jury members file inside, trying to decipher the looks on their faces. He wasn't sure what he'd do if they didn't read the verdict he was expecting.

It probably wouldn't matter. He had the best lawyer in the city on retainer.

And who would convict him for murdering the man that killed his parents anyway?

Mike felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and instinctively pulled it out to glance at the screen.

He frowned, recognizing the number and wondering what it could be about.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

Mike swallowed past the lump forming in his throat and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"We have, you're honor. In the appeal for Theodore Baker versus New York City," The small woman in a thing grey pants suit glanced up at Mike and he inwardly cursed her.

Just get on with it already!

"The jury finds in favor of the original ruling and state that the defendant should continue to serve his original sentence of Life plus 20 years with no chance for parole."

The courtroom erupted immediately as the jury's ruling was spoken. A grin broke out across Mike's face so wide might've split it in half. Harvey's was one to equal it and Mike couldn't help himself, he threw his arms around Harvey in a hug and was more than a little surprised when the older man simply returned it before pulling away quickly.

"Thanks." He glanced over Harvey's shoulder at Todd and the DA, "all of you."

Todd just nodded and the laugh lines around Harvey's face crinkled as he said, "Don't go getting all mushy on us Mike."

Mike found himself wrapped in a hug from Donna and she held fast to him as they were herded out of the courtroom, making way for another case.

Out in the lobby his phone vibrated again in his breast pocket, reminding him of a voicemail. Mike felt his stomach clench and stepped away from Harvey and the rest, ignoring Donna's questioning look as he pressed his phone to his ear.

Slowly, Mike's eyes widen and all the color drains form his face. Donna felt him tense beside her and turned with a questioning look.

"Mike?"

"I gotta go." He said, suddenly frantic and already moving toward the door.

"Why what's the-"

"It's Gram." Was all Mike could say, his throat closing up on him. Seeing the man's obvious distress, Donna nodded, not needing any more of an explanation.

"I'll tell Harvey, we'll go with you."

Mike shook his head. "I've got to go. I gotta go now." His eyes flicked over quickly to where Harvey and Todd were surrounded by reporters from the media outlets covering the case. He figeted, already moving toward the door.

"Okay, just go Mike," Donna nodded, and took his hand and squeezed it once before giving him a push, "we'll be right behind you.

And with that, he was gone.

Harvey didn't blink against the flash of cameras or wince at the number of questions reporters flung into his face. He spoke with all the charm and charisma he was known for, and he held up his hands to calm the media frenzy around them.

"I think I speak for myself, as well as the DA and Mr. Nevins, the original prosecutor on this case who came out of retirement specifically to see this appeal through, when I say we are all more than happy with the outcome of the trial. Obviously the jury saw facts and wasn't swayed by the defenses attempt at deflecting blame from a notorious serial killer. We'd also like to thank the brave testimony of Mr. Mike Ross, without whom it's very possible we'd have a killer walking around tonight. Thank you."

Immediately the questions started up again but Harvey pushed through the crowd, ignoring them all. He'd already noticed Mike was missing and Donna's face was taut with worry.

"What is it?"

Without preamble, Donna took hold of his arm, moving them toward the door.

"We need to get to the Nursing Home."

Harvey was very composed. All about appearances. Never a wrinkle on his person, never a thread out of place.

Except right now.

Because right now he was almost running in his handmade Italian leather shoes, the soles slapping hard against the linoleum floors. The florescent lights overhead did nothing to hide the worry wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth and his hair was disheveled and unkempt.

Because right now Harvey wasn't composed. And he wasn't worried about appearances.

Right now Harvey was worried about the kid.

Today was supposed to be a win for them. It was supposed to be grins and high fives (bad taste be damned) and stuffed crust pizza and a beer together at a bar.

It wasn't supposed to be sad.

It wasn't supposed to be this.

When Harvey and Donna burst into Edith's room Mike barely spared them a glance. He was standing beside the bed, almost bent over, holding the woman's small, frail hand inside both of his own. His eyes were rimmed red, suit wrinkled and he was biting his lip while glassy tears gathered in his eyes, but didn't fall.

"Grammy please." He whispered.

Edith didn't open her eyes, but a small smile crossed her face and she slowly raised the hand Mike wasn't holding, it trembled as it moved to rest atop his larger ones. She was much paler even than the last time Harvey had seen her, he pursed his lips in sympathy and regret.

"I love you Mike."

Harvey felt Donna's hand slip into his and squeezed it when she buried her face in his shoulder. He could tell she was crying and he couldn't blame her, even from across the room they could see the kid's heart breaking.

Mike shook his head, leaning down further. "No Grammy, don't go." He took a sharp breath, his voice falling another octave into a whisper, no longer strong enough to hold up a normal volume. "Please don't leave me alone."

Edith's eyes opened then and locked with Mike's. She remembered a time, once before, when he'd said that to her. His first night staying with her after his parent's died, Mike had pleaded with her to stay. Not to go. He couldn't be alone. He'd been trying not to cry then, too.

"Mike," she said quietly, wishing she had the strength to hold him, "I'm not leaving you alone." Slowly she turned and gave a meaningful look to Harvey and Donna, tucked unobtrusively in the corner of the room. Mike's eyes stayed locked on hers, afraid if he moved he would fall apart. "You don't need me anymore."

Mike's chin started to tremble and he took a calming breath to keep the sobs down, and instead rearranged their hands so both of hers were folded between his and he shook his head again.

"I still need you. I'll always need you." He said, his voice stronger than before. "Please."

"Mike," Edith again, "don't do this to yourself. I'm an old woman. I'm just glad I lasted as long as I did." She smiled and gave a slight nod, "I'm proud of you."

It was all Mike could do to keep his composure. He didn't want to cry now. Not now. If he cried now he wasn't sure he would ever stop and he'd promised himself at his parent's funeral he would never make his grandma see him like that again.

Slowly, he lowered his head until it rested on her shoulder, his eyes clamped shut against the tears that pushed forward.

"Tell Mom and dad," he started before his voice broke and he cut himself off again, "tell them…"

"Shh," Edith turned her head to kiss his ear gently and pulled a hand free to rest against the back of his head. "I will. And we'll all be watching over you Michael so…" she tapped his head to let him know she wanted him to look at her and he lifted his head. "don't do anything stupid."

Mike gasped out a laugh and nodded, taking a bit of comfort in the familiar banter. Edith's eyes closed, and this time, she didn't open them again.

"I'll do my best Grammy. I promise."

Harvey and Donna watched the exchange from across the room. After Mike's last words several minutes of silence passed before the two realized the old woman was already gone. Donna's makeup was smeared all across her face and Harvey's eyes were soft and gentle, as he watched Mike slowly extract his hands from Edith's and reach down to pull her white sheet up and over her head.

He heard Donna gasp, apparently realizing what Harvey had figured out a moment before and she slowly crossed the room to stand beside Mike. He was staring down at the white sheet, eyes and face dry, looking shell-shocked and young and fragile.

"Mike, are you-" Donna began quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.

Mike jerked away, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

Again, he sounded it. He even looked it. His face a mask of calm and shoulders relaxed as if Donna had just asked if he wanted a cup of coffee.

But Harvey was just about done with all this 'fine' bullshit. The kid may be fine when dealing with flashbacks of his parent's deaths and fine functioning on three hours of sleep for the past nine and a half months and fine pretending to be strong when forced to spend hours on end in the same room with his parent's killer and rehash their murders on the stand again.

But he sure as hell wasn't fine now.

Not after this.

"Mike," Donna looked startled the young man side stepped her again and suddenly made a move to get around her, and take three long strides across the room to get o the door. He brushed past Harvey, staring at the floor, looking for all the world every bit of fine he was pretending to be.

He might have gotten away with it too. If Harvey hadn't reached out just as he passed him and caught hold of Mike's arm, yanking him back so that he slammed into his chest and wrapped his arms around him, holding him in a hug before either of them really knew what was happening.

Mike struggled silently, trying to pull away, pushing against Harvey's chest because he could do this anymore. But Harvey held fast, not saying anything and suddenly the kid wasn't pushing against him, he was clinging to him as if Harvey was the only thing keeping him standing.

Maybe he was.

Harvey moved his hands to brace one against he back of Mike's head the way his grandma had done, the other pushed against his back, keeping him close.

He looked over his shoulder at Donna, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself beside the bed. She was crying again.

Harvey could feel the muscles in Mike's back, tense from trying to hold it all in. Of course the kid was being stubborn.

"C'mon Mike," Harvey whispered finally, "don't hold it in kid. It'll break you."

Mike shook his head at first, resisting like he had when Harvey had pulled him into the hug to begin with.

"I'm broken either way." Mike whispered and Harvey closed his eyes, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest and, not knowing what else to see, he just held him tighter.

A solid three seconds later Harvey could feel Mike shaking in his arms, followed quickly by gut wrenching sobs that Harvey felt ripping his own chest in two.

Harvey hadn't realized he was crying as well until he felt Donna's hand on his arm. He looked at her, locking gazes with her just for a moment before she leaned in and wrapped her arms around them both, he face back to being buried in Harvey's shoulder.

"Not broken." Harvey said finally, hoping Mike could hear him between his sobs, "we've got you."

Harvey, Mike, Donna and Jenny were all sprawled across Mike's apartment dressed from head to toe in black. Harvey had privately come to the conclusion that his funeral suit had seen too much action of late and he was ready to shove it to the back of his closet and leave it there for a while.

It was late and the apartment was dark, illuminated only by the glow of a streetlight outside and the blue lights flickering out from the television where an old Cary Grant movie was playing.

Donna was asleep in the chair, her feet in Harvey's lap after he gave her a foot massage because apparently the heels she chose to wore were a half a size too small (they were just so damn amazing and was it really her fault the store was all out of her size?). Jenny had come back and fallen asleep on Mike's bed right after they returned from the funeral, having boarded a red eye back from Ohio at four am the day before in order to be there in time.

The clock on the wall above the television read three in the morning. Mike was nursing a glass of whiskey, eyes wide open and unseeingly staring at the television while Harvey's empty glass was still clutched in his hand, resting on his knee.

"I asked you once," Mike began, his voice a startling interruption to the silence left in the spaces of the quiet movie, "if what we do really matters."

Harvey looked over at the other end of the couch, but Mike was still staring at the television.

"I remember."

Mike nodded, breaking his trance on the screen to look down at the drink in his hand. "I get it now. I mean, sometimes we're gonna make mistakes and somebody's gonna get hurt. But, I mean, for every one case that doesn't go the right way, there's four that go right. And maybe the person I represent one day will feel the way I felt today when that jury read the verdict. I think," he cleared his throat and finally looked up, "I think that matters."

Harvey smiled with the corner of his mouth and raised his empty glass in a toast to him.

"Good for you, Mike." He said sincerely and Mike's blush was visible even with the low light in the room.

"And I know you think my wanting to help the client, and wanting to be the good guy is something I need to grow out of but," he shrugged, remembering the lecture his grandma had given him just before he met Harvey, "it's all she ever wanted me to be."

Harvey nodded, because Mike was right, it was something he thought he should grow out of, especially if he was ever going to make it as a corporate lawyer. But he glanced up at a picture he'd noticed of Mike the first time he came over to his place all those weeks ago. Mike, no more than seven or eight, with white blonde hair and a goofy smile, framed by both his parents on either side. The kid's smile hadn't changed since the day that photo was taken, Harvey thought with a smirk.

"You know Mike," Harvey said finally, "I kind of hope you don't either." He got a mischievous glint in his eyes and raised a finger in warning. "But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna try to smack it outta ya'."

Mike grinned and Harvey shook his head and smiled, both returning to the movie. The next time Harvey looked over, Mike was fast asleep curled up on the couch and shoved into the arm of the couch and Harvey couldn't help but hope this time the peaceful slumber would last.

Harvey glanced at the coffee table and sees one of the books (in the sea of books) was set down face open, creasing the paperback spine. The pages were yellow and age-worn soft. He recognized the title as something Mike had mentioned before.

Hatchet.

It was the book he'd been reading the night of his parent's murders. He thought it odd Mike should be reading it again, but then, he wouldn't be the one to tell the kid how to cope with what he'd been through.

Curious, he picked it up and flipped it over, a slight smile quirked his mouth as he realized what it must have been that had the kid's attention after all these years.

He finished reading and sighed, nodding.

"Nite Harvey." Mike's sleep muddled voice carried over to him as Harvey slunk down further on the couch, putting his feet on the table to get more comfortable.

"Mike? Go to sleep."

And, Mike, never one to argue with his boss, did.

He was not the same and he would never be again like he had been.

That was one of the true things, the new things.

And the other one was that he would not die, he would not let death in again.

Page 123, Hatchet by Gary Paulsen

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