I've been sitting on this for too long, fiddling with it, and the series has moved on. I started this fic shortly after 7.10, but still feel that I haven't quite got it right. I know that I'm taking these characters a bit out of themselves, in a bit of a role reversal. I'm not sure it worked. I had this vision and I wanted to try to capture it. Please review, I would love to hear your ideas.
The cool night air fills her lungs, as she instinctively wraps her arms around herself against the chill. She isn't even really sure how she got up here, all she remembers is running away. Her breathing is scattered, her eyes darting in a dozen directions. She turns her face up to the sky, with one overwhelming thought filling her senses, Oh my god, what the hell have I done?
This rooftop isn't far enough, but this is where she ended up. She doesn't have her handbag, her keys, or her phone, so it's not like she could go anywhere else.
Her eyes crash shut, but hot tears flood in anyway. Images flash into her head… her arms around his neck, her mouth on his. The thing she swore she would never, ever do, and goddamn it, somehow she just did it! The softness of his lips, the subtle scratch of his evening stubble, the scent of him still lingering in her lungs. She touches her fingertips to her lips, her hands trembling. What the hell have I done?
Her brain will not stop replaying the scene, she can't turn it off. It's too raw. That moment when his initial shock wore off, and she felt him respond. His mouth pressing fully into hers, his hands on her hips, pulling her into him. That was not just her imagination, that really happened. They both felt it, like a match to gasoline. Woosh, every pretense gone in that second.
Years of pushing her feelings away, and it was all for nothing. In one moment of weakness, she had demolished a dozen years of work that went into the carefully constructed facade that was her relationship with Harvey. The kiss left no room for doubt. How can she ever go back to pretending?
She tries to slow her hectic breathing in an effort to calm down and think. She knows that Harvey is going to be furious. She knows that she had no right to do what she did, to put him in the situation he's in, and she is well aware that her brief apology is simply not going to be enough. That nothing she could ever say might be enough. Unbidden, her tears slip down her cheeks. She wipes them angrily away. She needs to plan, not cry. There has got to be a way out of this mess. Her mind is spinning, she can't focus.
And before her next thought can form, she feels his arms slide around her from behind. His hands smoothing across her belly, pulling her gently back against him. She stiffens in surprise, what the hell? Why would he… this isn't right. She knows this man, and he should be outraged by her flagrant crossing of the line! Instead, he says nothing, just holds her against him, his warmth and strength enveloping her. She picks up notes of sandalwood in his cologne, feels his warm sandpapery jaw brushing against her right temple. He takes a deep breath, as if breathing for both of them, as she stands frozen in his embrace.
The silence between them is unbroken, as Donna struggles to make sense of what's happening. She can feel his body heat through the thin material of her tailored black dress, the rhythm of his breathing, and in spite of herself, she starts to relax. Her shoulders start to sink, the trembling in her limbs subsides, and her hitching breath falls gradually in step with his. She crosses her arms around her own waist so that her hands can rest on his. They stand together, looking out at the highrise forest that surrounds the rooftop. Somehow, the hurricane of questions and recriminations in her mind starts to die down.
Tentatively, she lets her head rest lightly back against his shoulder, and his thumb rubs gentle circles on the backs of her fingers. She has to try to explain.
"Harvey, I'm so - "
He cuts her off with a gentle, "Shhhh, it's okay. We're okay."
She doesn't understand. He should be angry. How the hell did they ever get to this spot, where he's calm and handling everything, while she spins out of control? HOW can he be so calm, after what she did? He should be demanding answers, she should be apologizing, he should be pushing her away, she should be trying to talk him down. She knows this man, or she thought she did. When has he ever taken time out in a crisis to comfort her? When has it ever crossed his mind that she even needed him to comfort her? Of all the times over all the years, how could it be possible that he would pick this moment to suddenly put her needs above his own? So many questions, no answers. She gives her head a slight shake of disbelief.
Harvey pulls her even closer, dropping his chin to rest his cheek against hers. Holding her in wordless intimacy. There would be a lot to talk about. Problems to solve, decisions to make, and apologies for both of them to make. But for right now, this is all that needs to be done.