Spirits In My Head

Category: Drama/Angst

Summary: Faced with the prospect of losing her, Harvey realises just how much Donna means to him.

_

I got guns in my head and they won't go.

Spirits in my head and they won't go... but the gun still rattles, the gun still rattles, oh

- Spirits, The Strumbellas

xx

Harvey stares at the gun in Hardman's hand, the city lights behind him blurring through the floor to ceiling windows. Donna is between them, zipties pinching her pale wrists to his chair and fear coils around his anger as Hardman circles her with a taunting voice.

"Are you in love with her?"

Harvey's mouth parts but no sound escapes and he flinches when Hardman lashes out striking Donna across the side of her face. She jerks in the restraints and he feels physically sick, an acidic bile rising up in his throat.

"It's a simple question-" Daniel spits, digging the barrel into the redhead's shoulder. "Are you?"

Donna looks straight at him, her eyes wide and pleading. He doesnt know how to get them out of this and panic swells in his chest when the safety clicks off. "Yes." Desperation forces the word out, his gaze never leaving Donna's. Whatever happens he needs her to know it's the truth and his own expression breaks with regret. He should have told her. He was going to but then Kessler had shown up and he'd let her walk out.

He thought losing her to another man was the most painful moment of his life.

He was wrong.

"Please." The only person who's ever heard him beg is sitting across from him but it's directed at Hardman, his voice hoarse as it swells in his throat, "let her go and I'll give you whatever you want."

"How generous." Daniel leers at him, dragging the gun to rest at her temple. The only thing he wants is for Harvey to suffer a long and tormented life at his hands. "Unfortunately I'm not here for anything of monetary value." He feels the women beneath him quiver, a whimper spilling from her lips and he bends hovering close to her ear. "Don't worry my dear, I'll make it quick."

She tries to pull away from his hot sticky breath but has nowhere to go and panics when his hand clamps over her nose and mouth cutting off her airways. He wants Harvey to see her struggle and tears burn her gaze when the need for oxygen makes her writhe desperately against him.

"Stop it." Harvey commands, instinct driving him to take a step forward.

Hardman baits him with a sadistic smirk, waiting until her eyes start to flutter before finally lifting his hand. Her lungs fill with a rush of air and his finger hooks around the trigger with a sharp tight squeeze-

-BANG-

Harvey shoots up in bed, a loud crash of thunder barely registering above the drumming pulse between his ears. It was just a nightmare but he can still see her terrified eyes, feel the splatter of blood across his skin and he pulls free from the blankets shaking as his feet hit the floor. It's so vivid he's almost sick on the carpet and he stretches for his phone not caring that its two o'clock in the morning. She's the person he calls when he needs someone and right now he needs to know she's okay.

-BEEP-

"I'm not here right now but if you want me to call you back say something interesting..."

"Donna, I-" he stops, swallowing sharply. She's probably with Kessler and a new wave of anxiety clamps his chest making his vision swim. He's in the throws of a panic attack and pushes up with a hard curse drawing the phone from his ear to catch himself against the wall. The devices crunches beneath his hand and again when it hits the floor. He doesn't care -just has to move- and stumbles his way to the bathroom where he promptly empties the contents of his stomach. He wretches until there's nothing left to throw up, leaning back and panting heavily as he rests his flushed cheek on the cool tiled wall.

Donna's okay.

She's with somebody else but she's safe and he tries to draw comfort from the fact but can't, counting the breaths as they rasp painfully in and out of his lungs.

He sees her struggling again, the life draining out of her and hears the gunshot with every bang of thunder that echoes through the apartment. The crimson is burned into his memory and he drags himself into the shower like he can somehow wash the invisible blood from his clothes.

It could be minutes or hours he stays like that, fully dressed, leaning against the wall for support until a sound breaks through- and then she's there silhouetted in the doorway of his bathroom. She doesn't move frozen like a ghostly apparition and for a second he thinks he's dreaming again until she jerks forward letting go of any reservations.

He should do something but is still in shock, his expression twisting with confusion as her hand reaches around him to turn off the faucet. She's wet from the storm, her hair curling slightly at the ends, and she looks tired- a sigh spilling from her lips as she pulls him out handing over a towel.

He takes it but doesn't use it, his voice hoarse as stands dripping in front of her. "You didn't have to-"

She shakes her head and he stops. Not now is the hint and he swallows roughly, a tight frown on his lips as she steps from the small space. She returns a few moments later with dry clothes, telling him to get changed, and he waits for her to leave again this time pulling the door closed behind her.

He takes his first proper breath since waking up and dresses quickly, dumping his wet slacks and t-shirt in a heap on the sink. Tidiness isn't a priority and he finds her in the kitchen with two brewed cups of tea, her eyes carefully concealing her worry as she glances up over her mug.

"Feel better?"

He nods, embarrassment flushing the back of his neck and he drops onto the barstool dragging his drink across the marble countertop. "How did you know?"

She shrugs slightly, like it isn't a big deal she just up and left Thomas, hailed a cab and came striaght over. "You're voice was... different." She settles on the reasoning, taking a sip of tea. He'd only left two words on her voice mail but she'd heard the tremor beneath them, the way his breath started to hitch and when she'd tried calling back the service had been disconnected. That alone was enough to drive her out of bed. "You want to talk about it?"

Another boom of thunder crashes through the apartment and he flinches.

"Bad dream... " he offers turning the cup in his hands, "I shouldn't have called, I probably disturbed you and-"

He motions but doesn't say Kessler's name outloud, won't even look at her, and she puts her drink down with a sigh. "I came over, didn't I?"

There's a hint of frustration lacing her tone and he nods but can't shake the curiousity eating away at him. "Why did you come here?

"Why do you think?" She throws back annoyed at having to explain it. "I was worried about you."

"Yeah," he questions quietly, "Kessler worried too?" It's childish, a cheap shot and he instantly regrets it when her eyes flash with anger.

"You want me to go, fine." She was an idiot for coming in the first place, for thinking he might actually need her, and she steps around the island to collect her purse- flinching when he stands blocking her path.

He opens his mouth to apologise but another roll of thunder traps the words in his throat and instead of flashing back to his nightmare he drives his arms around her, the action taking both of them by suprise. He shouldn't be touching her but she relaxes into the hold and he squeezes her tightly breathing his fear out against the warmth of her neck. She shivers and he can feel the dampness of her clothes pressing through his light cotton t-shirt. He doesn't want her going back out in the storm, he needs her somewhere safe, and pulls back clearing his throat. "It's late... why don't you crash here. I'll take the couch."

Confusion mixes with her adrenaline as she stares at him, her body still tingling from the almost desperate hold he had around her. "Harvey... what happened?"

Her voice is soft, her eyes wide like they were in his dream and his fingers lift of their own accord brushing her cheek to reassure himself she's fine. "I lost you."

There's a weight to the sentence that makes her wonder if he's talking about the nightmare or something else and she pushes a small smile as his hand falls away. "I'm right here."

"Yeah..." he agrees gently, blowing out a puff of air. She's here, not in the way he wants but that's his own fault for waiting too damn long. "I'll get you some clothes to change into."

He leaves and she curls her arms around her stomach, her head telling her to go before things get any more complicated but her heart doesn't listen. He'd been about to tell her something at the firm tonight -before Thomas showed up- she's sure of it and now a few hours later he's back to having panic attacks.

That can't be a coincidence.

She likes Thomas, can actually see the relationship going somewhere but it won't not unless she and Harvey confront whatever is going on between them. If they don't then all three of them are going to get hurt and when he steps back into the living area she confronts him, standing like a deer trapped in headlights "Do you love me?"

He stops, glances up, and bunches the clothes in his hands.

"Yes."

There isn't a single beat of hesitation in his expression and she re-words the question. "Are you in love with me?" She asks expecting it to shake his confidence.

It doesn't.

"Yes." He admits, holding himself a little straighter. Maybe he shouldn't be telling her now she's with somebody else but it's the truth; he's in love with her and he wants more, even if it is too late.

She bites her lip, a huff of bitterness expelling beneath a short laugh, "but I'm seeing someone so it doesn't mean anything, right?"

There's anger behind the forced amusement and he flinches, abandoning the clothes in his hand on the sofa and taking two strides until he's directly in front of her. "Break up with him."

Her eyes narrow in confusion, her heart thudding in her chest at his close proximity. "What?"

"You want to hear me say it?" He doesn't give her time to answer jumping in first, "I'm in love with you Donna and if you want me to fight for you I will, just... tell me I still have a chance."

"I-" she stutters at his soft expression not sure whether to give in or pull away from his pleading gaze. After thirteen years the instinct to protect herself burns fiercely and she hates he can make her question everything with a single look. "God, you're an asshole."

He smirks, a wave of confidence washing over his hesitation. "So?"

She shakes her head at his arrogance. He can't just admit he's in love with her and expect it to change everything instantly. She's with someone and Kessler is a good, decent guy. "What happens if I decide to stay with Thomas?"

He stiffens but keeps his eyes level. "Then I'll tell you it doesn't bother me, that I'm happy for you." It would nearly kill him but he'd do it, if that's what she decides... there's just one thing he needs to know first. "Do you love me?"

She's slower than he was to respond but he told her the truth and she's willing to do the same. "Yes."

"Good." His exhale is slow as it lands between them and he takes a step back reaching for the clothes bundled on the sofa, giving them to her with a small smile. "I guess Kessler's going to have a fight on his hands then."

Her heart flutters when their fingers briefly cross and her lips curve as she folds the pile into her arms. They're still a long way from figuring it all out but it's a start and she steps around him, stopping with a quick glance over her shoulder. "It's not a fight if the game's been fixed."

It is, it's just not a fair fight and he waits for her to leave before indulging the grin on his face. She basically just admitted the odds are in his favour and to hell with sportsmanship. First thing tomorrow he's going into the ring swinging.