She goes to Danbury on a Tuesday.

It is a Tuesday just like any other except it is the seventh that has passed since everything went to hell. The seventh week she has worked to repair the very thing that used to bind them. The forty-third day she has spent watching those she loves suffer and sweat yet still drift away as though their strings have been cut. So, today on the forty-fourth – she goes to Danbury.

She goes because she cannot live another second so filled up with worry that she feels she might burst. She cannot step foot in the ghost town that is Pearson Specter Litt and know without a doubt that he will still be there. She hasn't seen him leave in days - hasn't heard his voice spare a few times. She cannot bear to see the look on his face once more as she rounds the corner into his office and catches him clutching his chest, tie loosened and hanging around his neck like the albatross that is his guilt, sweat dripping down his face and his eyes – those eyes – wild and panicked. She knows she cannot stand the shame in his eyes when he realizes she has seen. Worst of all, each time their eyes meet she cannot help but hear his agonized words rising up from her memory.

" Because it's my god damn fault! "

She goes because she fears that the ties that used to bind them all will strangle him. Fears that she will lose the man she loves and has always loved, even if he is so broken that he cannot give her the everything he doesn't believe he deserves. She isn't foolish enough to think that the mourning period for losing your best friend and the very thing that embodied the accumulation of your life's work in one fell swoop isn't longer than the average. On the contrary, she expected Harvey to be marked by this forever. She did not expect to watch him disappear before her eyes a little more each day that passes.

But, despite the crippling fear that grips her each time she looks at him, it isn't Harvey haunting her dreams anymore. It is the puppy. His face appears amongst flashes of concrete and cold metal. His voice punctuating the gruff voices, expletives and the sounds of violence. She dreams of him as a small child - the sickening crunch of metal and of bone - his parents gone in an instant. She dreams of him as a grown man, his grandmother taken before he has the chance to say goodbye. She sees him as a loyal man – the man he is - whose dreams and shot at Harvard are taken away by someone he considered his closest friend. She sees the brilliant, compassionate lawyer. A friend, her friend… and his. Perhaps the first real one Harvey has ever had and certainly the only that he has ever loved like a son. Lastly, and without a doubt the most heartbreaking, she remembers him as a groom – his beautiful wife sobbing behind his back as he turns and walks towards his fate. That is the image that she sees most often when she closes her eyes. The sound of Rachel's sorrow is her likely lullaby when the exhaustion finally wins and she drifts away.

People used to tell her that her strength, compassion and capacity to love were her greatest assets. These days she feels as though they may be the end of her. So, to Danbury. For the puppy and for him – for help and though she would never admit it, a little bit for her as well.

He shouldn't really be surprised that she appears just when he needs someone the most. That's her trademark after all – that intuitive way that she can read a person and know what it is that they are hiding and what it is that they need most. Though, if he is being honest with himself, he is a little bit disappointed that her face is the first that appears from the world he left behind. It's been seven long, lonely weeks. Seven weeks of unanswered phone calls and unopened letters. Seven weeks since he has looked into the big, brown eyes of the woman who was supposed to be his wife. He is desperate to get that look of hurt and disappointment out of his head – desperate to replace that memory with something –anything- else. Something he can hold on too to get him through the weeks to come. On second thought, perhaps he should be happy that it is Donna and not his scorned fiancé sitting in front of him…

"Don't they have razors in the commissary? " Donna starts, cutting into his thoughts, one manicured eyebrow arched high. Mike runs a hand loosely over his chin, over the dark stubble that had accumulated and shakes his head.

"Sharp edged objects are sort of frowned upon in here. " He replies sardonically.

She takes that in for a moment in silence, giving him the opportunity to observe her for once. He can tell his comment has thrown her off balance. She isn't the same unshakeable Donna that he remembers – not by a long shot.

"How is she? " He asks, though he knows already knows the answer and can't explain what prompts him to ask. She just tilts her head ever so slightly to the right as if she is just seeing him for the first time.

"This place is dulling that hot shot brain of yours if you have to ask me that. "

He deserves that. Deserves all of it.

"And Harvey? "

She falters. Her eyes well with unshed emotion, a single tear dropping down onto her alabaster skin. She swipes at it impatiently -angrily, he thinks - and laces her fingers on the table in front of them as if seeking to hold on to what shred of composure she has left. Mike watches them tremble atop of the cold expanse of metal. Inwardly, he curses himself. He should've known of all the things to make her break…

"Harvey is lost. They all are. " She finishes. " That's not the only reason I'm here, you know. "

He nods, conceding. He knows but again, for her to ask the question would be pointless. He is so very far from okay and they both know it.

"He's having panic attacks again. Nearly every day. Maybe more –… I don't know. He hides them from me. He can't focus! He never leaves. He doesn't work, doesn't try-... he is just there. Just existing. The firm is… " She wavers again, casts her eyes up to take in Mike's face – pauses, perhaps remembering the lie that had got them here before continuing. " Well, there's nothing left. No one. Rachel hasn't been back. Jessica and Louis have been canvassing clients, trying to reach out to everyone that left… The things they're saying about him… He blames himself, Mike. I know he does. He thinks he ruined your life. "

" He didn't-... That couldn't be farther from the truth. " Mike cuts in earnestly. " If anything, it's the other way around. "

" I'm-… I'm afraid we're going to lose him. Afraid that I'm going to lose him. "

She stops again, unable to continue. They sit in silence as he processes, feels some of the weight she has been carrying around with her every day since he walked behind these gates. He was so stupid – so selfish to think that he was the only one suffering. Why should the real world stop turning just because he placed his on pause?

"Donna, I'm-… "

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike glimpses movement – a figure in orange approaching quickly. Mike surveys his surroundings. There is one guard in the room, standing by the door. At least eleven inmates, all eyes on Donna – including the imposing man approaching. Donna is oblivious at first, rummaging through her purse for a tissue until a hand reaches out to caress her hair.

"Well, hello red. "

Mike rockets to his feet as Donna recoils, eyes settling on the figure in front of her. She is shaken, stumbling backwards out of her chair, bracing herself against the wall behind her. All colour has left her face. The last person she expected to see today was him.

"You. " She spits. "What the hell are you doing here? "

Stephen smiles, a grotesque smile that seems too big for his face and much too jovial for their surroundings. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he drinks her in. The sight makes Mike sick to his stomach. A single look at the other inmates is all that it takes to confirm his suspicions. Danbury wasn't dulling his mind at all. He knew what was to come.

"Well, I could ask you the same thing but… " He gestures towards Mike. " I don't need to be the great Harvey Specter to figure this one out. I heard you were here, Mr. Ross. Apologies I'm just welcoming you now. I promise it will be worth the wait. "

"Touch her again, and you'll be sorry. " Mike snarls.

"Careful, Mike. You're starting to sound like him. "

"If that's supposed to be an insult-… " He trails off, glancing at the guard who pushes off the wall and approaches cautiously. " You're a bit off your mark. I am his associate, after all. His right hand. I consider that a great compliment. "

Stephen's smile falters and then falls, deepening into a scowl.

"Well now, let's be honest. We're all friends here. You're not an associate at all, isn't that the point? Isn't that why you're in here with all of us in the first place? You're not a lawyer. You never were. "

"He's twice the lawyer and twice the man that you have ever been. " Donna interjects with a hiss, her voice coloured with her repulsion. "And so is Harvey. "

Stephen turns again, raking his eyes over Donna's body. The other inmates have closed in on them now – flanking Stephen. Mike realizes with sudden alarm that two of the inmates have hands on the guard and his radio is laying in pieces at his feet. Mike silently says a prayer to whatever god there is that the guards are watching the surveillance feed.

"Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me love. Gentlemen! " Stephen yells, hands in the air – one raised and leveled at Donna. " Let me introduce you to the stunning Mrs. Harvey Specter… or at least, she wishes she were. You will remember Harvey Specter, eh lads? You see my love, most of these fine, upstanding young men have been put in here by or as a direct result of the actions of that piece of shit. "

It doesn't take cunning or a photographic memory to figure it out - their intentions. He knew that Stephen Huntley had been incarcerated at Danbury but he had been naïve enough to think that he might not ever run into him. Nevertheless, Mike knows he only has one shot – the element of surprise. He lunges suddenly and swings with more force than he thought he could muster. He can both feel and hear as he connects, as his knuckles collide with Stephen's jaw. The force of the blow knocks him on his ass, he observes with satisfaction but his victory is short lived as strong hands grip his arms, holding him in place as Stephen gets to his feet. His expression is murderous. He looks quickly between Mike and Donna.

"You even hit a bit like him, Ross. I should know, shouldn't I? But it won't do you any good. You're out numbered and out of your league. " He runs a hand across the spot where Mike connected with his face. " Really, I couldn't have planned this any better. I only meant to come for you – the second most important person in Harvey's life. Imagine my surprise to find the first here as well. Call it a two for one. "

It happens all at once. The guard crumples. One of the inmates grabs Donna roughly from behind. Mike swears, struggling to free himself - unable to stand to the terrified expression on her face. He lunges again. Inexplicably, all he can hear is Harvey's voice in his head, screaming her name. He will be furious. Stephen's fist connects with the back of his head - a sucker punch, he thinks - and the world dims. He is being hit from all directions. An uppercut to the jaw, a punch in the kidneys. A kick to the ribs, then the head. He can makes out the catcalls of the inmates, punctuated by Stephen's laughter. The last thing he hears is Donna screaming his name...

The news calls it a riot. Twelve inmates, one guard and a single visitor. It is the only thing to catch Harvey's focus in weeks. He turns towards the sound of the television, his mouth going dry. There, pictured in the small box at the top right of the screen, is Danbury Federal Prison.

"Donna! " He bellows without tearing his eyes off the screen. "DONNA! "

There is no answer. He looks up finally, taking in her empty desk and the time reflected on the clock on the far wall behind it. It is almost 9:30 – no way in hell she wouldn't be here by now. She hadn't left in weeks - hadn't had so much as a snack break since well before the trial. The reporter's commentary intercedes his thoughts, reminding the viewers that Danbury Federal prison is the home to many federal inmates, including most recently that of Pearson Specter Litt's former junior partner, Mike Ross convicted of defrauding the New York City bar association.

"The female visitor currently being held hostage inside the institution with Mr. Ross is purported to be an executive assistant at Ross' former employer, the law firm of Pearson Spector Litt… "

The glass of amber liquid in his grip shatters. The room begins to spin. He feels as though the world has fallen away beneath his feet. He doubles over to catch his breath – glancing quickly at the screen as her beautiful face fills it. His chest constricts and he claws at it, seeking some relief as on the table in front of him, his cellphone comes to life and begins to ring…