Things Mike Ross Wanted To Say To Harvey Specter But Never Did.

Harvey learns about Mike. (4)

Mike began that god-awful day with a fall.

He really is a good bike rider and (luckily) always wore a helmet, even if it made Harvey smirk every time he took it off. But when a runner bumped into him a little too hard while he was looking the other way he couldn't help it – he spilled over into traffic, hands coming up just in time to break his fall.

"Damnit!" He muttered, swiping at his now-dirty suit and glaring at the ground as if it was its fault he'd been born with absolutely no balance to speak of. "Now where…" His bag had fallen a couple of feet away, spilling some of its contents but not, thank god, the folder of papers he'd brought home from the office the night before. Maybe he'd be able to go on with his day after all.

Except that when he scooped everything into his bag, Mike realized that not only was his phone cracked, it now refused point-blank to turn on. Getting a replacement definitely couldn't happen before the end of the day, and he sighed as he got back on his bike, praying that Harvey wouldn't try to call him any time soon.

"You broke your cell." Harvey said, raising an eyebrow as if people didn't break their cell phones every day. "And how did you do that?"

"I fell off my bike."

"Were you hit by something?"

Mike clenched his jaw, but he wouldn't broaden that smirk by telling Harvey that a hundred and ten pound college girl had been enough to send him to the ground. Harvey smiled anyway, which just made Mike confident in his previous assumption that Harvey could read minds.

"Just get a new one by the end of the day," Harvey had said, flipping him a phone that had come seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm not always this nice."

"Don't I know it," said Mike, making a mental note to get his phone fixed and then letting the whole incident slide from his mind with nothing more than scraped palms for memories.

Donna had just finished scheduling a dinner meeting at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city of exclusive restaurants when she got the call. Still flushed from her victory – not every secretary could have arranged for a dinner in the privet room on the seventh floor of Bergdorf's –she'd answered the phone with a sing-song, "Harvey Specter's office, how may I assist you?"

"I was told I could use this number to get into contact with a Mike Ross?" The woman on the other end sounded tired, strained.

"I know Mike Ross," Donna said, wondering who the hell Mike could have given this number to. She knew that the poor puppy was more than a little afraid of her (which made him kind of sweet) and would not be directing people to her willy-nilly.

"This is the Shady Oaks retirement home. His cell number isn't working, or I would have told him directly." The woman hesitated, and Donna prompted her with a discreet cough, "I'm very sorry to have to deliver the news, but his grandmother had a severe stroke an hour ago and has passed away. Can you give him the message? And be gentle. He was always a dear to his grandmother."

Donna tried not to let the shock betray her in her tone. "Of course. I'll tell him right away. Should he go down there?"

"Most like to pay their last respects, and there is the funeral to attend to." The woman on the other end sighed, "That poor boy."

Donna echoed the sentiment to herself as she hung up the phone. What to do? How do you go about telling someone that their grandmother died? From some of the things Mike had said about his life, Donna gathered that his grandmother was a big part of it.

She was lucky that Harvey happened to be coming up the hallway right then and she stood up, happy for the help. "Harvey…."

"What's up, Donna? Louis asking you to set him up on a blind date again?" He looked up from the brief he was reading and his brow furrowed when he saw her face. "Hey. What's wrong?"