Author's Note: This story isn't beta-read yet. And since English is my second language, there might be some mistakes in grammar and punctuation for which I'd like to apologize in advance. Please, feel free to point them all out to me in the feedback. Although, if anyone is interested in beta-reading this, please let me know.

Disclaimer: They do not belong to me.

xxx

Seriousness of Intent

Despite his best efforts, he was painfully aware that he was being a dick again. Just like earlier today when he had brushed her off for seeking his comfort about the prospect of going to prison. But Donna threw him off his game lately.

Like two days ago, when she decided that it was a good idea to weasel her way into the Liberty Rail file room because she wanted to be the one who pulled the rabbit out of the hat for once. Considering the bigger picture, her behavior was no different than from what Louis did when he embezzled money for Charles Forstman. They both chose their own reputation, their own pride, over the greater good, over what was good for the firm. Over what was good for him.

Not that he couldn't relate to that. The narcissistic tendencies and the reckless behavior kind of came with the territory of being a top New York lawyer. Or with being a top New York lawyer's secretary, for that matter. But he would still be pissed as hell at her and call her out on her shit – just like she would do if their roles were reversed, and has already done a millionth times – if he couldn't still feel the sinking feeling of utter panic at the very thought of her going to jail over this stupid mistake.

Over this, of all the crap they had pulled over the years and had gotten away with. This, of all the little cover-ups (and the big ones, too), of all the times they crossed lines – legally and otherwise – this was what made him want to drop to his knees. This was what had almost brought him to his knees. And it belatedly occurred to him then, that it wasn't loyalty what made him want to drop to his knees.

And there it was. It was almost funny – certainly ironic. Nothing else had ever made him want him to drop to his knees before – and he was at a loss as to how he could've missed that for so long – even though he knew it had been there for a while now – before it blew up in his face.

How all of that resulted into him standing in her living room in the middle of the night confessing his love to her, like it was the most casual and obvious thing in the world, he still couldn't wrap his mind around.

He certainly hadn't planned for it to happen. Which was narcissistic and reckless behavior on his own part because he was aware that he put them both in a very difficult and vulnerable position. But you see, the thing is, she was different – as he liked to point out lately. She was his moral compass on these matters and she was the only person in the world he ever wanted to talk to about these things. Even if this time, this was actually about her.

And that is what made him a dick about it. Not only did he just tell her that he loved her without considering the repercussions such a confession could have, and therefore putting their working relationship as well as their friendship on the line – both things he values above anything else, and he knows she does too. But he also just expected her to have figured something out about him he didn't even acknowledge to himself until the sinking feeling of panic betrayed his cool and polished veneer and almost brought him to his knees.

You know why. Did she?

Let alone the fact that he, Harvey Specter, the man who walks into uncomfortable sticky situations for a living, walked out on her two seconds after that without so much as a nod implying that she, Donna Paulsen, the women who just happens to know these kinds of things for a living, could not possibly have not known that he's in love with her. - That he's in love with her. - That was their thing after all. He counted on her to figure these kinds of things out about him before he even did himself – if he was ever lucky enough to get there at all without her emotional input. "I can't be me without you." This, he knows, was true back then and it is certainly true now.

Harvey watches as the blurry lights of the dark city pass by the backseat windows of his car. He resists the urge to check his messages. He knows that there won't be any. At least not any important ones. Some disconnected part of his brain is astonished that the very same feeling of utter panic he felt before is recurring a second time today, and it is trying to reason with him that he is not one to panic. That is what makes him exceptionally good at his job. He doesn't panic – more or less on principle. Except for when it comes to Donna – because she, as it now becomes all the more painfully apparent – is just different in every conceivable way.

But if the fucked this up as bad as he things he did, he is going to lose her after all.