I'm sorry for the delay. School has been killer. I'm more stressed than Mike. And that's saying something. Because the kid is going to get gray hairs.

Any who, Make sure to R&R. I promise that the next update won't be late.

MAKE SURE TO POST YOUR ANSWER TO THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:

How much of Mike's time in the middle-east should I write? Or should I skip it all and do flashbacks?

Disclaimer: I am disclaiming.

Oneshot series is coming out soon. Followed by a new story of mine! Check the bottom for a sneak peek of my new story. It's interesting to say the least.

Enjoy my late, horrible story! Don't kill me for being so late!

25 and an early chapter!

3,

Red

Mike was hung-over. Not just hung-over, but hung-over after drinking half a bottle of tequila, the only liquor he could find in his shitty apartment. He was up to his neck in things he needed to file, print, scan, and edit, and didn't know how he would finish it all before he had to leave. And to top it all off, the four caplets of painkillers he had taken were washed down by a nice big cup of coffee, just adding to the horrible Hangover, Caffeine high, exhausted state he was in.

Just a typical day at work for Mike Ross.

He sighed, running his highlighter over another series of lines, marking them so Harvey could read through it. He tried to ignore his pounding head as he did so, but it was to no avail, as the strong scent of overpriced, men's cologne filled his nostrils. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouse, willing himself not to vomit. It wouldn't have ended well if he did.

"Mike, great to see you've returned from Harvey's lap," Louis sneered, his nasally voice making Mike's headache worse as seconds passed, "I need you to file the Mcallaster briefs for me. Then, you need to start on the Rozen case. The court date is set in three weeks and I expect you to-"

"I can't"

"Be there at... Excuse me?" Louis' voice seemed to raise a few notes as he realized Mike had spoken.

"I can't work on the Rozen case. I'll file the briefs but that's all I'll do for you." His voice was cold, no emotion displayed in the words that should have held a little sympathy, especially when talking to a boss.

"And why the hell can't you? Don't tell me it's Harvey. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't just work for him, you work for me as well! I ought to have a word with him. You know, he's just so-"

"I can't do them, Louis," Mike sighed, remembering the way Harvey reacted. Denial, anger, realization. Mike stopped highlighting the paragraph he was working on and looked up at the illegitimate senior partner, "because I won't be here in three weeks."

Silence, when left to be the communicator between two complicated forces, was said to be comfortable. It could translate the earnest emotions, more so than even words. Some silence was good, especially for the fool who garbled nonsense and spoke around the foot in his mouth. However, the same soothing peace could be decoded as nothing more than absolute nothingness. It was the noise of the dead, of the liar, and of the fearful. More often than not, silence was the trigger to thought, for it left nothing to block out reflection on the past, present and future. Good and bad, light and dark, power and weakness; it was in contemplation that one chose how to proceed.

This silence was treacherous.

Every associate in the bullpen turned to stare at the argument. While they all listened with half an ear every time Mike decided to take a stand against the 'dictator', this time, it was all eyes, all ears, every associate. Mike ran his hand over his face, looking up into the beady eyes that stared at him so intensely.

"Vacation, or..."

"I'm fulfilling obligations I had before I was at the firm. God willing, I'll be back eventually."

"God Will-" Louis shook his head, letting out a dry laugh, "Mike cut the shit."

"Louis, can we discuss this in your office?"

The ratty man let out a laugh, the nasally sound making Mike's sensitive ears ring slightly. He winced looking up at the man as he spoke, "Just say it here, Ross. Or did you master tell you to keep a secret?"

"Harvey didn't tell me anything," Mike snapped, "I just thought it would be nice to give you my letter of temporary leave in person, instead of handing it to you in front of your flying monkeys. But, since you've insisted." Mike dug into his desk, grabbing the envelope hidden under some briefs. He handed the folded paper to Louis, letting go of it the moment the older man's hand wrapped around it. "I've been called back overseas. I'll be reporting to Lejeune on the fourth."

"Overseas? Wait, isn't Legeune a military base?" The look on Louis' face conveyed confusion. Confusion and shock. He saw Kyle and another associate glance at each other in the corner of his eyes. Mike was surprised for a moment that Louis actually knew what the base was.

"A marine base, yeah. Which is why the Rozen case isn't something I can do for you."

Louis remained silent for a moment. He opened his mouth, before closing it again, as if he was deciding against something he was going to say. He seemed to bounce on his heels for a moment, before speaking, "You're kidding, right? We're lawyers. We're the top of the top, the Kobe, not the Angus."

"The what? Louis, I was a marine before I was a lawyer."

Wheels in Louis' mind seemed to be turning. Suddenly, bushy black brows curled into each other, and Louis narrowed his eyes, looking at Mike with an accusatory look, "How were you a marine and a Harvard student at the same time?"

Mike could feel his heart enter his throat, eyes wide, he was about to mutter some lame excuse when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Louis, go bother an associate who doesn't have an expiration date."

Harvey.

Mike looked over his shoulder, meeting the dark brown eyes of his mentor. His gaze flickered back to Louis, who sniffed, "What, Mike? Your prince charming has to come save you every time you're in distress?"

"Isn't that how the stories always go?" Harvey turned to Mike, who looked at the older man, relief evident in his baby blues, "I needed the Dumont files done half an hour ago."

Mike turned quickly, looking through his messy desk before pulling out a large manila folder and a smaller green one, "Here, I finished the Anderson briefs as well. The loopholes I found are circled."

"Good boy. Grab whatever you're working on today and take it with you. If you can't work in the playground with the little kids without a rat squeaking at you, you can work in my office."

Mike bit his lip to keep from smiling as he gathered his highlighters and folders, ready to spend a nice day with someone who wouldn't assault him with questions.

That's it. I know, crappy. But bear with me. He'll deal with the associates in the next chapter. Two more before Mike kills some terrorists!

REMEMBER THE NEW POLL.

How much of Mike's time in the middle-east should I write? Or should I skip it all and do flashbacks?