Harvey walks into the office. He knows that she will still be there. She is always there. He spies her through the glass of the observation window. She is sitting in a chair leaning over the exam table eating dinner. He opens the door and walks in with the typical announcement of repulsion that he has used through out their history together.
"How in the hell can you eat in here?" Harvey musters all the swagger he can to enter the room without a giveaway as to his true purpose for being here.
The woman looks up with a warm smile. A smile that he has missed. "Harvey, do you know the quality of the disinfectants that we use. This is the cleanest room in the whole damn city." On cue, she pops a spoon into her mouth. Harvey reacts by shuttering at the thought of having dinner in the autopsy room. "It has been a long time Harvey... what brings you to the tombs? You lost?" Her tone is appropriately sarcastic. It has been a long time since he has talked to her and the disconnect is completely on him. Harvey concedes that he deserves the edge in her tone.
Before Harvey is one of his dearest childhood friends. They were thick as thieves when they were younger. Marcus, Iggy and him were the three musketeers throughout their lives, now when compared to their youth... they are almost strangers. Entering her exam room, Harvey gets flashes of his DA days when he would find himself down here looking for his sanity or bitching about Cameron. Harvey takes in his old friend. Iggy has a deep purple pixie hair cut. She is dressed in her scrubs and lab coat with her ever present Dr Marten boots. Her sleeves are rolled up just enough to reveal the edge of her sleeve tattoos. Dallas Friday is as she always was... the human manifestation of Harvey's rebel heart. The roots of his own swagger were born of his friendship with Iggy.
Dallas Friday is now called Iggy by everyone who knows her which is short for Igor. Igor is the nickname that Dallas picked up from the NYPD and FDNY when she started with Medical Examiner. Harvey liked the name so it has stuck with him as well. Hell at this point, even her parents call her Iggy. She reminds him a bit of the character Abby on NCIS but Iggy is the original... anything else is a poor imitation. Iggy grew up down the street from him and Marcus. She was between the two of them in school. She was the rebel wild child who was usually the reason that him and Marcus were in trouble most of the time.
Iggy never let him get away with anything. She called a spade a spade. She is smart and savvy. She will tell him the unabashed truth and most of all, Harvey trusts her with everything that he is and right now he isn't sure who he is anymore. Harvey walks up and leans on the examination table in front of her still feigning disgust at her dinner venue. "Well don't you look like hell." Iggy sits back in her chair and surveys her old friend. Harvey looks like he has been hung over or out to dry. Marcus has told her of the goings on in the Harvey Specter universe over their last dinner. She has read the headlines for herself about the trial. She sees Marcus all of the time when she goes home, they are still close. Hell, she eats dinner at Marcus' restaurant at least twice a month. The topic of conversation has been the chaos of Harvey's well orchestrated life tumbling down around him on her last few visits.
With the remark, Harvey can see the change in Iggy's expression. She realizes that something is wrong. She has tended him after more than one altercation in his lifetime. Iggy reads him like a magazine. It is after nine, so Harvey knows that Iggy is likely wrapping up her day. He needs her help. He needs... He just needs someone. Harvey tries to look away in a moment of regret for letting her see him like this. Iggy can tell from his movements that Harvey is actually hurt.
"Hey." Iggy reaches for Harvey. "Harvey." She reaches out and touches his arm to capture his attention as he retracts. Harvey does not look directly at her. He can't. He is overwhelmed. He is ashamed. He did what he did to protect Mike. This is all his fault. The emotions have been released. Now, he has to find a way to live with it. He wonders if it was a mistake to come here. Iggy's tone is commanding yet kind. "What happened?" With a continued lack of response from Harvey, Iggy does the one thing she knows will illicit a response. Iggy pushes on his rib cage with her fingertips, hard. With what can best be described as a yelp of pain. Harvey buckles to his knees with Iggy catching him in her arms on his way down."What the.. Damn it, Ig."
"Let's have a look shall we." Iggy taps the table. Harvey looks at her with an expression that is hard to gauge. "Not here, Ig." Iggy acknowledges Harvey's request for a more private setting. "Give me a minute." Iggy pops out of the exam room into her office. She returns a few minutes later dressed in an elegant fashion. Her clothes rarely reveal the artwork present on her body. Her hair may be deep purple but that is the only outlandish thing about her outward appearance when she is all business. Harvey laughs as a comic book reference pops through his head. A head which is beginning to ache with the beating he recently took from Mike. He and Marcus had always joked that Iggy was pretty much one science experiment away from super villain and she actually has a lair.
"Had court today?" Harvey motions to the outfit. Iggy smiles. "Yeah, this morning." Harvey helps her with her coat as she grabs her briefcase. Iggy says her goodnight to the staff and heads out into the night with Harvey. Always the gentleman, Harvey opens the door for her to get into his car. Ray pauses waiting for instructions. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come over Harvey." Harvey casts a gentle glance her way. "I needed to get out of the house and think for a while. Do you mind if we go to your loft?"
Iggy acknowledges his request as Harvey gives Ray Iggy's address in Brooklyn. She can see the winces with every sway and bump in the road. Harvey is quiet on the ride and he is thankful that Iggy is allowing him the space at the moment. She was always comfortable with silence. The events of the evening are running on a endless loop in Harvey's head. He wishes that he could turn them off.
Iggy lives in Greenpoint, Brooklyn which was once an artsy neighborhood filled with artists and alternatives. It is now an upcoming address to have in Brooklyn much to Iggy's annoyance. It has been formally invaded by hipsters. Harvey always loved Iggy's loft. It is an old brick building situated overlooking McCarren Park. Iggy fell in love with the place despite the hellish commute she normally has to get to Manhattan every day for work. From the moment she moved in, Iggy had told Harvey so many times that it was worth every second of subway hell and every time he walks inside, he understands.
The interior of the loft is all brick, wood and exposed pipes. It was a disaster area when Iggy moved in. Iggy saw the potential and the good bones. The restoration has been a labor of love ever since. Iggy's tastes are European. The furnishings are warm and comfortable covered in rich fabrics with elegant design. Iggy has always had an entourage of artists in her circles of friendship and the space reflects it. The space is the polar opposite of his penthouse with its minimalist pallet of metal and glass.
He is drawn towards the centerpiece of the room The large arching glass window that spans her living room which overlooks the trees in the park. It is the actually the top of the windows from the apartment below. It was why Iggy said yes to the disaster area so many years ago. It is like an enormous nature painting that changes with the seasons. Right now, his penthouse is the last place on earth he wants to be.
Iggy returns from her room with her medical bag draped over her arm and two drinks in her hand. Harvey walks over to the large grey overstuffed sofa that is positioned across from the window. He takes a seat as Iggy hands him the glass. He takes a sip to realize that it is Macallan 18. He holds it in his hands for moment before taking another long drag as he thinks how much he needed that. As he holds the glass, Harvey notices the cuts on his hand from the glass he had thrown earlier that very evening appreciating the irony.
"You look like you could use the good stuff." Iggy takes a seat on the immense coffee table across from him as she pops open her medical bag. Iggy looks him over with scrutiny noticing the cut over his eye, the mark on his jaw and the fatigue of his movements. She also looks at his hands without a defensive mark on them. "So you going to tell me who you let beat the crap out of you?" Iggy dabs the cut over Harvey's eye. For a moment Harvey is stunned that Iggy picked up small such details. "How... how did you know I didn't fight back?" It occurs to Harvey who he is talking to, the Deputy Medical Examiner of the City of New York, Manhattan. "Ah Harvey, hello... coroner... It's kind of my gig to pick up on those things, gun, badge and all." Iggy tugs at his jacket to release the buttons. "Open up and let's see this." Harvey reluctantly stands to take off his coat and begins to unbutton his shirt with strained effort. Iggy helps him slip out of the shirt before lifting up his t-shirt. "Well some one knows how to throw a punch." Harvey is almost relieved to hear those words. Mike knew how to hit. That is a good thing. Iggy's touch is firm but gentle as she examines him and cleans his wounds. He still has the tang of iron in his mouth from the blood. Iggy summation is what he figured it would be... a couple of bruised ribs. He didn't come for the diagnosis. He came for the company