A/N: Just a Jarvey moment post-finale. It was easily one of my favorite episodes and I was so grateful for the beautiful Jessica and Harvey moments (among many other moments) in the episode. It gave me all the family feels, and that's probably what satisfies me most while watching shows. The title is based on the subject matter of the episode and it so fits all these beautiful, broken, lost souls that are the Suits characters. In case anyone wondered what it meant. Anyway, I haven't actually written anything for them in a while. So this is something. Enjoy! Or not. Either way, reviews are welcomed.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own disillusionment with the world around me, so my imagination is a saving grace. But damn I'd love to own Jessica's wardrobe. I'm just saying. No beta. Errors are my own.

~O~

She looked so vulnerable sitting there. Her dark eyes glossy and her face crestfallen. She looked worn down, tired, and beautiful. She looked absolutely beautiful. He spent the entire day reflecting on his past, his mother, and his father, Donna. He also thought of her. He thought of how Jessica was always his rock, so steady and consistent and available whenever he needed her. She was always his confidant and his friend. She was always his family.

She pledged that to him the day she first hired him, the day she told him she'd pay for law school, the day he had a breakdown after damn near failing his first memo, the day he screwed up and almost got fired during his clerkship the summer after second year. She reminded him the day he graduated, the first day he started at the A.D.A's office, and the day he came back to work with her. When she wasn't telling him, she was showing him.

He realized earlier that day just how much she had done for him throughout the years. Not just for him, but for many of the people at the firm. The firm was her life. It was her friend, her lover, her family, her everything. She was so close to losing it all and he never saw her quite that resigned. She accepted it. Gracefully enough, even though it was crushing her soul. The second he found out what was happening he knew it was killing her, that she was hurting. It didn't even surprise him when he found out about her slight breakdown from Donna. A crack in that tough exterior of hers. It didn't shock him, but it made him enraged. He could take a lot of things but he couldn't take Jessica Pearson hurting. She didn't deserve it.

It was still killing him that she was hurting right then. He could see it. But at least she had her firm back. Even if he had to fall on his own sword for it to happen. He'd gladly make that sacrifice for her. She beared the cross of his many sins for so long that relieving her of the burden, the weight on her shoulders of him being him, seemed like the most honorable thing he could ever do for her. He was pretty sure it still wouldn't be enough. Not in his eyes.

Finding out Mike was leaving too was shockingly a final straw for her. She sat before him, elbows resting on her knees, rubbing her forehead, eyes shimmery, and brows furrowed. He had to bite back a laugh. Jessica may have thought of the kid as family, but their relationship was nothing short of tumultuous. Sometimes Mike didn't give her the respect that he definitely should have, and sometimes she didn't hesitate to let him know that he was expendable if she had the choice, and yet the moment she found out the kid resigned too she looked like she had just been sucker punched in the solar plexus.

"I don't even..." She muttered under her breath. She grabbed his glass just before he could take another sip and gulped back the remainder of dark liquid before he could as much as protest. Her face contorted at the burning in her throat and chest.

"I don't accept this," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't, Harvey."

"My good scotch? Sure as hell looks like you do," he shot back quietly, going for light.

He figured the best way they both could get through this weird moment was with humor. She may have still been in shock over what he did, but hell, so was he. Finding another position at another firm shouldn't be an issue for him, his reputation preceded him, but he couldn't wrap his head around not being at Pearson anymore. He couldn't imagine not being with Pearson anymore. Jessica was the most consistent and stable thing he had left in his life.

"Please don't do..." She paused and turned her head away from him. He watched her hair fall over her face shielding it from him for a moment. The way her voice cracked made a lump form in his throat. Suddenly it was too hard for him to swallow. "Please don't do that, Harvey."

He stared at her long and hard, at the highlights in her hair he didn't notice until just that moment. Her eyes were bright and sad. Her body folded into itself as she hugged herself tightly. No sign of that luminous smile let alone that trademark smirk that he attempted to put on her face. She looked like she just lost her best friend. He supposed that in a way she had. His heart constricted and for a brief moment the room spun. He turned away from her and stared at an invisible speck on his father's album cover, silently coaching himself to breathe. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep it together if she fell apart on him. He wasn't sure if he could breathe through the urge to actually cry.

"There has to be another way, Harvey," her voice bordered on pleading with him, and it surprised him and crushed him all at once. "There's always another way!"

"Maybe there is Jessica, but this is the best way I could come up with." He couldn't muster the Specter special. She'd know he was faking it anyway. He managed a sad half grin, but instead of her giving him one back, her eyes grew cold and hard.

"Bullshit Harvey! You don't lie down and take it. You fight! That's what you do. That's what we do... that's, that's who we are. You fight! You never take the dive! You don't give up!" Her voice was harsh and bitter. There was a familiar angry edge that reminded him so much of the bad-ass warrior he admired.

He sighed, sullen and weary. "I'm not giving up Jess, I'm giving in...I'm-"

"Forgive me if I don't see the difference!" She growled. Her hands shook in anger, or anxiety, he wasn't sure which.

She glared at him, livid, and he smirked because that was the Jessica he was used to. It gave him a spark of relief. He could take her angry, but he could never take her defeated. This was a victory for them, albeit one that came at a high cost. Defeat shouldn't be their default feeling.

"You have covered my ass and saved my ass more times than I can physically count. You've helped me more than anyone else I have known. You've sacrificed everything for this place, for these people, "he paused long enough to watch a wondrous display of emotions flicker across her face as she processed what he said.

"This is your dream, Jessica. This firm is all of your hard work, sweat, blood, and tears. You've...you've given up your family and your marriage and love with foolish men who can't accept you enough to ever deserve you..." he raised a brow when she inhaled sharply and tightened her fists at her sides.

"You have defied the odds, you've broken glass ceilings, and you've exceeded goddamn expectations. You have worked your ass off for this! You've earned this! This is yours! You know it's yours!" He gesticulated at the office around them and gave her the most piercing gaze he could muster.

"I'll be damned if I let anyone take it away from you! You have always sacrificed for me. You have always done things for me. Probably more than I even know. I don't say it often. I don't express it as often as I should, but I appreciate it and I appreciate you. And I meant what I said, Jess. It's time that someone does something for you. It's time that I do something for you. I'm willing to sacrifice for you, just let me do it."

She sat frozen in place, and if not for the shattered look in her eyes and the tremble of her chin, he'd almost believe that she didn't hear a word he said. She bolted from her seat abruptly. So quickly he recoiled from the action and tensed. She walked away from him, except instead of leaving his office she ended up in front of his desk. Her back was to him as she leaned forward onto the desk, palms planted firmly on each side of his copy of his resignation, her hair falling over her shoulders. He couldn't see her face, only her reflection in the windows.

"But I don't need you to," her voice was so small, he could barely hear her, but there was a hint of hopelessness that made his jaw clench. Even when he was helping her he was still hurting her, and it was enough to make him pissed off all over again.

"I know you don't need me to. But I need me to," he replied evenly. "I want to. I have to." He shrugged as if she could see him, even though he knew part of her retreating to the window was so that she wouldn't. He shimmed out of his jacket and pulled off his tie. The room suddenly felt too small and stifling.

"You're the chess master, Jessica," he couldn't reign in the fondness in his voice. He wasn't sure he would have wanted to even if he could. "You play chess while everyone else is playing checkers am I right?"

She scoffed, the only acknowledgment that she gave him.

"I know the Queen always protects the King," he says lowly. His face contorted as he tried to remember the basic rules of chess, God knew he never paid attention whenever she tried to teach him. "This time, the King is sacrificing himself for the Queen." He frowned when she didn't have any sort of response. He went for one of their inside jokes instead. "What's a Queen without her King?" he asked, as he forced a hint of a smirk. At best he hoped she'd respond with the standard "Historically better." At worst, he expected a glare. He got neither.

A long silence fell over them as his father's music played in the background. He studied her frame; still bowed over his desk like she was praying to a God he didn't consult with nearly enough. Maybe he should have had a chat with the big guy before he sold his soul to Satan, but then again he had been dancing with fire for years like he was invincible and he was long overdue to get burnt. God was probably laughing at him.

"Harvey..." She choked out.

He couldn't remember the last time the mere utterance of his name made his heart plummet to his feet. He was on his feet and across the room within seconds. She still wouldn't turn to face him, but one glance at her reflection looking back at him and he understood why.

He had one of the best views in the city and yet he couldn't take his eyes off the heartbreak clear as the bright sky across Jessica's face. She closed her eyes upon his approach but not before he could see the tears, her glassy eyes like the lush earth soaked by raindrops. Her lips parted as she quietly regulated her breathing and choked back a strangled cry, drops danced across her cheeks leaving wet streaks.

He stood so closely behind her he could feel the heat of her body against his and smell that sweet scent that was uniquely hers. He inhaled deeply, ignoring the way her hair tickled his nose. He was surprised that she didn't tense up at his presence. She did hold her breath, before opening her eyes but she avoided his piercing gaze in the window.

"What am I going to do without you?" She asked quietly. She shrugged her shoulders and they finally locked eyes with each other's reflections.

The pain he felt was nothing short of gut wrenching. He exhaled a rush of air as he stared at her, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her in all the time that he had known her. They didn't talk much about their feelings. It was one of the things that made them so them. They understood each other. They were so similar. They internalized their thoughts and feelings and used sarcasm as a defense and coping mechanism and to hell with anyone who didn't understand that. They didn't say things that they could best prove through actions. They didn't emote. They concealed but didn't feel, hid behind confident facades and iron wrought armor.

He had been through a lot with Jessica, ups and downs, good, bad, and ugly. But he couldn't recall a time where he could see everything she was thinking and feeling all over her face. She was so open. Granted the day clearly took a toll on her and she since gave up maintaining her tough exterior and keeping walls that rivaled fort Knox up.

Jessica Pearson was openly crying.

She was crying for him, on his behalf, and it told him more than she could ever really put into words. He refused to tear his eyes away from hers, while tears flooded his own. He closed the little distance left between them as he pressed against her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his face buried in the crook of her neck for a moment before he pressed his cheek against hers. Her shoulders were tense as he massaged them before working his hands down her arms until he helped her unclench her fists from the death grip she had on his desk. He tangled his fingers with hers, as he enveloped her, their fingers splayed across her abdomen, her back pressed firmly against his chest.

"You will kick ass like you did before I came here, and like you did while I was here, and like we always knew you would after I'm gone. Because you're Jessica fucking Pearson and that's what you do," he breathed. "You don't need me, you know."

She shuddered when he spoke, but to his surprise she didn't attempt to break away. It was easily the most physically intimate they'd ever been, and it was no secret that she usually shied away from physical gestures. But in that moment she seemed content. Like he was holding her together and she was willing to actually let him.

"You cocky bastard!" She scoffed, and he felt it reverberate in his chest. He chuckled quietly and tightened his hold. "I know I don't need you," she shot back, that familiar mix of annoyance and amusement lacing her voice.

She took on a more serious tone and her voice got smaller and more sincere. "But that doesn't mean I don't want you. Here."

"Forgive me if I don't see what the difference is," he echoed, smirking when she elbowed him in the stomach.

"I can run a firm just fine without you. I can do all of this without you. I know that. I just don't want to." She admitted quietly. "Over the years you just became part of my plan. I never imagined going forward with all of this without you there with me. It wasn't just my dream anymore. It was ours. Together. As partners. Somehow I just let myself share it with you."

A small part of him wondered what it cost her to even say that, but she stood firm, her eyes giving nothing away as he studied her intently.

"We make a hell of a team," he stated, staring at their intertwined fingers. "This is probably a good thing. We were terrorizing the city. Maybe this way we won't be number one on everyone's hit list," he joked.

She shifted in his arms, craning her neck to look at him over her shoulder. Their noses were nearly touching as her dark eyes bored into his. She stared at him so intensely that he was afraid to move, or avert his eyes, or breathe. Hell, he couldn't even swallow. He was frozen in time.

She sniffled as discreetly as she could muster but he wasn't convinced.

"It will be denied if brought up down the road," she started, her voice cracked but she managed to give him a half grin. "But Pearson is really going to miss Sp-"

"Shhh," he cut her off. He pressed his nose against her cheek, ignoring the dampness and the salt from her tears.

"I'm your best friend Jessica," he whispered softly, his breath against the shell of her ear. She shivered against him and he held her tighter, choosing to not over think their predicament. "Things might change, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Who said you were my best friend?" She choked out, feigning annoyance. She raised a brow at him. "You don't know everything about me..." she teased.

"You're right. I'm your only friend. And God knows you're a woman of mystery," he shot back, with his customary smirk.

He stared at their reflection in the glass. The contrast between them made him smile, her soft brown skin against his. Her long dark hair pressed against his short light brown. Her strong feminine frame against his firm masculine one. Okay, and maybe she was taller than him. Maybe by like half an inch, but not enough for it to matter. He'd never admit it to her though. She stared back at him with those piercing dark eyes that always saw through to his very core being. If she was uncomfortable with the intimate position that they found themselves in she didn't tell him. They continued to stare at each other's reflections, the backdrop of the city skyline mostly ignored. The chatter of late night office shenanigans cancelled out by a comfortable and blissful silence that had fell between them.

"Fine," he whispered in her ear, his own brow raised. "You're my best friend. You're my family." He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss against her forehead. "You'll never get rid of me. You're stuck."

They stayed like that for a long moment, and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to let go. He was lost in her scent, in the warmth of her body and the light touch of her hair on his skin. His lips still tingled from where they met her hairline and temple. He could still taste her tears and feel her breath as her breathing fell in sync with his. He knew the second they broke apart the moment would be gone. He knew he wouldn't be the same. They already weren't the same. The moment they found themselves wrapped in was far beyond anything they ever experienced with one another, but neither of them seemed to mind it.

Jessica's phone rang, and she reluctantly pulled away from him to answer it. He stayed where he was, enjoying his view, quite possibly for one of the last times. Jessica's side of the conversation was short, but she turned around to face him, and he met her gaze. She was serious, guard up, impenetrable wall firmly in place, all trace of the vulnerable woman he was holding mere minutes ago gone. She was fierce, determined, a woman on a mission. Her no nonsense face like that of a Greek goddess preparing for war.

"It's Mike," she hissed, blood thirst in her eyes. "They got him."

She doesn't have to elaborate for him to know what she's talking about. His face flushes with anger, his blood boiling. They can't ever have one damn minute of peace. They had to always be on guard and prepared for a damn fight.

"How about one more for the road, kid?" That brow of hers arched and she shot him that cocksure smirk that told him she was prepared to play, and play hard. Jessica Pearson was a Chess master after all, and she took no freaking prisoners.

"I'll grab our coats," he said through clenched teeth.

~O~