To Build a Home

Mike's Memory Is Nifty

"Mr. Tanner," the judge said sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Travis Tanner looked flustered, and Mike fought to keep a grin off his face. He had burst into the courtroom half an hour earlier clutching the copy of the reports that Rachel had made, triumphantly passing the bundle of papers to Harvey before sliding into the seat the Grammy had saved him.

Harvey had then called Tanner up to the stand as a witness and read the reports out loud to the courtroom. Sure enough, Tanner's face had gone ghostly white as soon as Harvey had opened his mouth and began reciting the incriminating phrases verbatim: "...factory machinery in dangerous state of disrepair...employee injuries may be sustained...not fit for operation...working conditions don't comply with federal law..."

"Your honor, Mr. Specter clearly got a hold of these reports through some manner of illicit activity. Some type of trespassing," Tanner suggested, looking like he was trying and failing to keep some kind of control over the situation. His fingers were twitching slightly.

The judge arched his eyebrow. "So you admit that the reports existed the whole time and that you hid them away?"

Tanner opened his mouth, realizing his mistake. He looked like he was about to protest vehemently, eyes darting around the courtroom wildly.

"Let me remind you, Mr. Tanner, that you are under oath right now. I suggest that you don't perjure yourself," the judge said sternly.

Tanner froze for a moment, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi truck.

"Yes," Tanner finally admitted quietly, too far backed into a corner to do anything about getting out of the mess he had created. "They were supposed to be shredded! I don't know how he got his hands on them!" He shouted angrily, pointing at Harvey.

The courtroom erupted at this game-changing revelation, and the judge continuously banged his gavel in vain, trying to regain the attention of the various McKinnon employees, witnesses, and reporters gathered there.

Mike accepted a quick hug of celebration from Grammy, who was sitting next to him, and a pat on the back from Henry Morris, who was on his other side. Both were completely cane and walker-free. They were looking robust and healthy, and Mike felt a surge of happiness seep through his veins.

The pandemonium continued on— Mike supposed this was pretty big news. After all, they had been expecting the trial to last weeks or months, not mere hours. Sure, there were still logistics to be figured out, testimony to be given— but McKinnon had lost. There was no way they could come back from this and gain any sort of credibility with the jury after their head lawyer openly admitted to tampering with evidence. Hopefully they'd just come up with a settlement offer now and they could get this whole ordeal over with and put it behind them.

But then Mike realized with a sudden jolt that now that this was over, he was going to move back to the apartment with Grammy, who was glowing with health nowadays. He wasn't sure how to categorize his feelings on the matter— he had really missed seeing Grammy on a daily basis and he was incredibly grateful that she was all better, but at the same time...things were going to change between him and Harvey. No matter what Harvey said about wanting to spend time with him after he moved out, it was still going to be different. Harvey was 30 years old, after all— he probably didn't want to spend his Friday nights watching Star Trek re-runs with a 14-year-old that he had no legal claims on. Sure, he'd probably see Harvey here and there, but it would be weird not eating breakfast and dinner with him, or working on homework at the table while Harvey wrote briefs across from him, the sound of soft jazz in the background.

And Mike didn't like change— after all, changes hadn't done him much good in the past. It had been a change when his parents died; it had been a change when he got sent to live with the Jensens; it had been a change when Grammy had fallen and broken her hip. Sure, change wasn't all bad or anything, but Mike preferred consistency and routine— he had learned that life had a way of messing with things that were important to him, so consistency went a long way in making him feel like he had some tiny semblance of control over his often tumultuous living situation.