Harvey spends a good ten minutes just staring at the tapes in his hands.
They’re really here, he really has them. Tangible memories of his dad are few and far between now, but this, finally having these tapes, being able to hear his dad whenever he wants for the first time in years, means the world.
When he eventually stands up to pack them back away he notices a white sheet of paper lying innocuously at the bottom of the box. Curious, he picks it up and unfolds it.
You know I never would have done anything to these. And I’m so sorry I took them from you. I’d ask if maybe, once this is all over, we could listen to them together, but the truth is I don’t know when this will end, and if we’ll ever be okay again.
You didn’t make me, Harvey. You found me, you helped me, and no matter what I’ll always be grateful for that.
Harvey’s first instinct is to pick up the phone and call, to tell Mike he’s sorry, to promise that he’ll cut Logan loose and swear that they’ll be fine. It’s fleeting but overwhelming in its intensity, and his hand is halfway to his phone before he remembers himself.
For better or worse, this is where they are now. And nothing is going to change that.
So he puts the tapes away, picks up the box and heads home.
It takes two years.
Not the case, the case takes another month from that day. But it takes two years for Harvey and Mike to be okay, to mend their bridges, to forgive each other and move on.
Two years of anguish, of lashing out, of hurting each other because that’s all they know how to do now. The world moves on without them - Donna falls in love and is married within two months, Louis gets his name on the door, Rachel leaves Mike and moves into an apartment near school (at which she is top of her class), Jessica is offered a judgeship - and Harvey and Mike are both painfully stuck.
Harvey hates the feeling of inertia that has permeated his life. But it’s been so long, and the hurt runs so deep, he doesn’t know how to fix this, how to fix them, if Mike even wants to anymore.
Life has gone downhill fast, and Donna’s not here to whip him into shape when he needs it, and even though he’s technically still excelling in his job it just feels so empty.
Everything just feels so empty.
It takes two years, and it’s not Harvey that finds the courage, but Mike. He turns up on Harvey’s doorstep one evening, wearing jeans and a hoodie and an anxious expression. Harvey is rendered speechless. Mike hasn’t shown up here for over a year, and they haven’t seen each other at all for nearly four months. And yet, here he is.
"So, I was thinking…" Mike says.
"Yes?" Harvey asks, apprehensive and cautious and maybe just a tiny bit hopeful.
"Do you wanna listen to your dad’s masters?"
Harvey moves aside and lets him in. Mike doesn’t leave for three days.
"I believe people are inherently magical and good."