Unfinished Symphony
Suits100 prompt #71 - Harvey finds a letter from his father.
(Main) Pairing / Character - Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Gifset by @loyalty2waystreet
Writing by @novemberhush
Word count - 3,654
Thanks to the amazingly talented, wonderfully supportive and endlessly caring @loyalty2waystreet for surprising me with this gorgeous gifset at a time when my motivation was waning. I absolutely love it! It really inspired me to keep going and I’m sure you will all agree with me when I say how beautiful it is.
Thanks also to Aqua and Erin for undertaking to organise the Suits100 event in the first place, and to whoever originally submitted this particular prompt. I hope what I’ve done with it doesn’t disappoint you too much!
He had first found the letter when he’d went to clear out his father’s place in the weeks after his death. It was a rented apartment, the family home having been sold off following the divorce and the proceeds divided between Gordon and Lily. Harvey could easily have kept the place on, but it had never meant anything more to Gordon than a place to hang his hat and rest his head. It had never been ‘home’ to either him or his eldest son and Harvey therefore held no attachment to it. All he cared about were the parts of his father it housed.
The record collection that had inspired Harvey’s own and which was even more extensive. His saxophone and other varied instruments. All the memorabilia commemorating a life soaked in music. Photos, ticket stubs, posters. The hat his father swore had been given to him by Thelonius Monk himself. These were the things Harvey cared about. Not the four walls that surrounded them.
Gordon’s will had been straightforward enough. All his money was split evenly between Harvey and Marcus, except for a few small bequests here and there to a handful of old friends and charities close to his heart. As for everything else, well, there were some items of sentimental value left to Marcus. Their grandfather’s watch, for example. (Harvey didn’t mind in the slightest. It wasn’t to his taste and he’d always hated the old buzzard anyway.)
There were a few other things, but the bulk of it, mostly musical in nature, went to Harvey. Marcus raised no objections, never having shared his father and brother’s love of music.
And so Harvey had found himself spending a weekend packing up his late father’s belongings, all his worldly goods, the mementos of a life, tucked away safely in boxes to be transported to Harvey’s condo. Donna had offered to help, Marcus and Jessica too, but this was something Harvey had felt he needed to do alone. Which meant there was no one there to witness him stumbling across the envelope in the desk drawer, addressed to himself in his father’s flowing handwriting. No one to hear the way his breath caught in his throat or see how his hand shook. To glimpse the tears he blinked back.
He sat there for a full half hour, just staring at it as if he could divine its contents without actually opening it, but eventually he’d carefully peeled it open and extracted the letter inside. The letter that began:-
To my dear son, Harvey,
Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…
And that was as far as he got before the tears refused to be blinked back any longer and the dam broke. The letter was put back in its envelope, never read beyond the first paragraph, once he was all cried out. Whatever his father wanted to tell him, Harvey wasn’t ready to hear. He wasn’t ready to hear what he felt sure was his father’s final goodbye to him.
Life went on. Harvey’s career flourished even as his personal life became one long string of meaningless encounters with anonymous strangers and the occasional hook-up with Scottie whenever she was in town. The firm was his unit, Jessica his general and Donna his trusted second-in-command. Louis was Forrest Gump. With less gumption. Harvey didn’t see what more he could need.
And then one day another anonymous stranger walked into a hotel suite, dropped a briefcase full of weed at his feet and soon Harvey didn’t know how he’d survived this long without him.
Now, six years later, that blue-eyed stranger was no longer a stranger, but Harvey’s loyal lieutenant and junior partner in the firm. Mike Ross, ex-con, attorney at law and all-round bleeding heart. He’d also just taken it upon himself to pack up Harvey’s old office and transfer everything into his new one, recently vacated by Jessica, apparently. Or at least that was the only explanation Harvey could come up with for why he came to be standing in what he could have sworn was still his office, looking around and wondering just what in the hell had happened to it and all his things.
“Mike, what the fuc-”
“Relax, Harvey, your stuff is fine. I just moved it all into your new office, seeing as you were never gonna get around to it, so I could take possession of mine.”
“If there’s so much as one scratch on any of my records, rookie…”
“I know, I know, you’ll feed me to the fishes, yadda yadda yadda,” Mike said, rolling his eyes with a smirk and leaving Harvey nostalgic for the good old days when he could intimidate the kid with a single look.
Before he could try out any more threats, though, Mike reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced an envelope.
“By the way, I found this when I was packing up your records. It fell out of the sleeve of one of them. Thought it might be important.”
He held the envelope out for Harvey to inspect, but he didn’t need to look to know what it was. His father’s letter. Hidden away inside one of his favourite records, never forgotten, but pushed to the back of Harvey’s mind along with all the other things he didn’t want to deal with. Like his feelings for the man sitting in front of him. The engaged to someone else man sitting in front of him, Harvey reminded himself. But one emotional crisis at a time, right?
“It is important,” Harvey croaked, voice suddenly thick. When he didn’t elaborate further Mike cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say Go on, I’m listening.
With a sigh, Harvey gingerly took the letter, staring down once again at the familiar handwriting.
“It’s a letter my father left for me,” he murmured. “I found it among his things after he died.”
Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus. That must’ve … Christ, I mean, I bawled my eyes out when Father Walker gave me one of my old childhood books that my parents had written a message in for me, but this … he left you this, knowing he’d be gone when you read it. That must’ve been pretty intense, finding it like that.”
“Yeah,” Harvey agreed.
“Yeah.”
Silence fell between them then, but Harvey knew Mike well enough to know that mind of his was far from silent.
“Spit it out, Mike. I know you’re dying to know. It’s okay, you can ask.”
Mike hesitated for a second, an aborted denial hovering on his lips, before giving in to his innate curiosity.
“What’s it say?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get beyond the first paragraph,” Harvey replied, a wry smile on his own lips.
“What?? Why not? Come on, it can’t have been that bad. Loving parents - and by all accounts that’s what your dad was - don’t leave their kids letters telling them how disappointed they were in them or how they never wanted them to begin with. They tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. Why wouldn’t you want to read that?”
Harvey shrugged. “I didn’t always give him reason to be proud of me.”
“Bullshit!” The vehemence in Mike’s voice startled Harvey, causing him to jerk his head up and stare at Mike as intently as he’d been staring at the envelope.
“You can’t seriously think your dad left you a list of all your faults and misdemeanours, Harvey, come on.”
“No, I know, you’re right, it’s stupid. I guess I … I …”
“You weren’t ready to say goodbye.”
As usual Mike had cut straight to the heart of him in a way only he could.
“Yeah.”
“Are you ready now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I know it’s a letter, but this feels like the last conversation I’ll ever have with him.”
“Maybe. But I’d lay odds on it being one you’ll feel better for having.”
“You think so?”
“I do. And you wanna know something else? I’m jealous of you right now.”
Harvey’s forehead creased in confusion. “Jealous? Why the hell would you be jealous?”
“Because I’d give almost anything for one more conversation with my mom or my dad or Grammy. This is a gift, Harvey. Open it.”
Nodding, Harvey did just that, but stopped as Mike got up and began to walk away.
“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay? Don’t you want to know what it says?”
“Yeah, and you can tell me when you’re ready. If you want to, that is. But this is a conversation between you and your father and it should be a private one. I’ll be at McGinty’s nursing a whiskey. There’ll be a glass waiting for you if you want to talk afterwards. Or not. We can just sit and drink. But right now it’s father/son time and I don’t want to intrude on that.” He strolled towards the door, turning before he left to add with a smirk, “Besides, I’m pretty sure your pride can’t handle me seeing you cry like Louis after sex.”
Harvey returned the smirk with one of us own. “And how do you know Louis cries after sex, rookie?”
“Please. It’s Louis. Of course he cries after sex. And before. And durin-”
“Okay, okay,” Harvey interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Just have the scotch ready, wiseass.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Mike retorted, standing to attention and saluting.
Harvey huffed a laugh before a thought struck him. “Hey, not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s late enough as it is. Won’t Rachel mind you dragging me to some faux Irish bar to sit around drinking cheap scotch all night while the patrons get misty-eyed and sing songs about the homeland while you try to get me to spill my guts?”
Mike stilled, the smile faltering on his face before falling away completely.
“No, Rachel won’t mind. She won’t even know. She’s staying at her parents’ place for a while. We, ah … we’ve decided to take some time out from our relationship.”
“What?? Since when?”
“Since I suggested we postpone the wedding. Again.”
“Mike, I … I don’t know what to say.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true. His heart had a few suggestions. Like, Please tell me it’s over for good. And, Tell me you don’t love her. Or, Am I the reason you keep postponing the wedding? Please say yes. But something stopped him from saying any of that. Harvey told himself it was his honour, because wishing the end of someone’s relationship was almost as bad as physically interfering in it, but he suspected at least part of it was cowardice. He didn’t want to hurt Rachel, true, but he didn’t want to risk Mike’s rejection either.
“You don’t have to say anything, Harvey. It’s on me. I’m the one who can’t commit to her.”
“Why not?” Harvey asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. His heart applauded even as the rest of him quivered with fear. The question hung heavy in the air between them and Harvey fell back on his favourite fail-safe to defuse the tension - humour.
“What? You get a better offer or something?”
Mike didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there and looked at Harvey, long and hard, a searching, scrutinising look on his face that left Harvey feeling stripped bare.
“Not yet,” he finally replied, voice low and hoarse. And with that he was gone, leaving Harvey with more questions than answers. He suddenly wished he had that drink in his hand already. That thought reminded him that he already had something in his hand. His father’s letter. Foregoing the scotch for now, he sank into the nearest chair, took a deep breath, and began reading.
To my dear son, Harvey,
Hey, kid. If you’re reading this then you’ve either been snooping in my desk or I’ve gone to the great Blue Note Café in the sky without telling you all the things I should have told you when I still had the chance, all the things I’ve put in this letter. And as you were never much one for snooping I’m guessing it’s not looking too good for your old man right about now…
I’m sorry to do this to you, son. I should have told you all these things face to face, but somehow I never got around to it, and now the doc is telling me my old ticker ain’t doing too good and it feels like there’s so much to say that I don’t know where to begin.
First things first, I suppose, so let’s get the obvious out of the way. At least, I hope it’s obvious. I love you, Harvey. And I’m proud of you. I’m so, so proud of you. I think you know that. Jesus, I hope you know that. I hope I told you that enough when I was alive. I hoped it showed in everything I did and said when we were together. I think you know. I think you know.
Secondly, it wasn’t your fault, you know. You know what I’m talking about. Your mother’s infidelity. I know that as far as the rest of the world is concerned you appear to lay all the blame for the break-up of our marriage at your mother’s door, but you don’t fool me. I see the little boy, hiding behind his anger, using it as a shield to deflect attention away from the fact that he wonders if it was his fault, wonders if he did something to drive her to it. You didn’t. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. There was nothing you did to cause it and nothing you could have done to prevent it. You were a child when it started. Hell, for all I know it started before you were even born. But I do know this - it was not your fault. Okay? You didn’t make her cheat. Get that through that goddamn head of yours.
And stop beating yourself up about being the one to tell me about it, too. Truth is, I think I always knew, deep down. I just didn’t want to admit it. I knew your mother was unhappy and I turned away and pretended not to see. Because I was afraid of losing her. I loved her, and I wanted her to be happy, and she wasn’t. And that made me feel like a failure. But instead of letting her go, I clung on. I told myself it would be okay. If we could only make it to Thanksgiving we’d be okay. Or to Christmas. Or your birthday. Or our next anniversary. But I was kidding myself. When you love someone, and they don’t love you back, it’s never okay. It’s soul destroying. But keeping someone tied to you when you know they’d rather be free, that’s killing the person you love, slowly but surely. A little part of your mother died with every passing year and I did nothing to stop it. I did nothing to help her.
I pretended that all she needed was a little space from time to time. So I agreed to tour with anyone who asked me. I told myself that she missed me as much as I missed her when I was on the road. But her voice on the other end of the line was always cold when I called. Except when we talked about you and Marcus. She always loved you two. Her beautiful boys, she called you. You remember that? Her beautiful boys. But you were mine, too. My beautiful, proud, stubborn, hard-headed boys.
But it’s that pride and stubbornness and hard-headedness that has me worried now. (Not about Marcus. I know he’ll be all right. He has Katie and your mom and if anything good came from him being sick before it was that it taught him it’s okay to reach out to people when you need them. You, though, I’m afraid the only thing you’ll reach for is the scotch.)
You see, I’ve been talking to your mother. Her and Bobby both. I should have told you that. I should have told you it was all right to forgive her. To love her. But I was scared. Scared you’d think me weak for forgiving her. Scared I’d lose your respect. But it wasn’t fair to either of you. Maybe nothing I said would have made a difference, but I could have tried. So much time you’ve lost. Time you could have spent repairing your relationship. And now I’m gone and you’re going to need someone, Harvey. And if not your mother, who?
I know you won’t lean on Marcus. You take your role of big brother far too seriously to allow you to do that. There’s Jessica and Donna, and even Louis, of course. But you won’t open up to them. You won’t let them see you weak, even though they’d never judge you for it. And you know I like Scottie, but you need someone who does more than just challenge you, Harvey. You need someone you can let yourself be weak around. Someone you don’t have to appear strong to all the time. But to do that you’d need to let someone in, and that doesn’t come easy to you, kid. I guess you can blame your mother and me for that. You heard me talk about our great love so many times, and you saw the truth of that love, how it only went one way, and now you doubt it could ever be any other way. But it can, Harvey. It can. You just have to be open to it.
And here’s the thing. If I had it to do all over again, I would. If I could go back in time to that first night we met, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would still ask her if I could take her home. I wouldn’t walk away. I wouldn’t know how to. Because I don’t regret your mother, I could never regret her. And not just because she gave me you boys (although, of course, I’d never give you up for the world). I’m not good with words, but I’ll try to explain.
Before Lily most people were just … white noise. There’d been other women before her, but they were nothing more than background music. Easy listening. Safe, comfortable, predictable. But Lily, oh, she was a blues song and a country ballad. Soul and jazz and gospel. She was rock and roll and she was Beethoven’s Fifth. She was ‘Ode to Joy’ sung by choirs of angels. My lullaby. My national anthem. My requiem. She was it all. She still is.
Some people are their own magnus opus. A great work in and of themselves. I think your mother is one of those people. But most of us are works in progress. Unfinished symphonies just waiting for the right one to come along and complete them. Your mother completed me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t return the favour. She didn’t need me to.
You pretend you’re one of the ones who truly don’t need anyone else to come along and help them compose their life’s song, Harvey, and maybe you even believe it. But I know better. I know you. You’re the sweetest tune I ever produced, kid, but you’re an unfinished symphony. And somewhere out there there’s someone with all the right notes. You just gotta find them, and when you do - let them in.
Maybe it’ll be love at first sight, like me with your mother. Maybe it’ll take a little longer. But you’ll know it’s them when you find yourself breaking every rule you ever made for yourself. I swore I’d never fall for a groupie, but five minutes with your mother and I was already planning the proposal.
I would have went anywhere with her, put her above everyone I’d ever known, given up my life for her. Hell, I’d have even given up music for her if she’d asked me to. When you find someone you’d give it all up for, you’ll know. And you’ll understand why I never stopped loving your mother. It was beyond my power to do so. But even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t. Because your mother was the most beautiful song I ever heard and no matter how it ended I wouldn’t have missed a single note for anything.
You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life, son. Don’t start now. Don’t be afraid of loving someone. Life’s too short, take it from me.
I love you, Harvey. Never doubt it.
All my love,
Dad
Harvey let the letter drop to the desk in front of him as the silent tears that had been threatening to fall all through his reading of it finally found release. For maybe the first time in his life he understood what people meant when they said crying could be cathartic.
When he had pulled himself together enough to talk he didn’t even hesitate as he reached for his phone and hit Mike’s number. His dad was right. He was Harvey goddamn Specter and he’d never been afraid of anything in his life. He wasn’t going to start now.
“Mike? Hey, listen - how soon can you get to my place? The scotch is better there and I have an offer I’d like to run by you…”
