You go back to her
And I go back to black
They've got a new ritual now.
Every day, without fail, Harvey comes by her office at the end of the day after he's finished up his work for the night. He calls it evening up the score, after she'd spent so much time in his domain over the years.
Today she senses his presence and looks up from her file to see him leaning against the doorway. Even though she's had a few weeks to get used to this, the flutter of excitement (and a touch of nervousness) that appears in her stomach at the sight of him has yet to fade.
"Hey."
"Hey you," she smiles back, as he approaches her desk. She takes a second to admire her favorite suit of his, the gray three-piece with a hint of shine. It's a type of glance that used to feel illicit, just like every time she found an excuse to fix his tie or smooth his lapels. Now it's just an everyday privilege of being together.
"What do you feel like eating tonight?" he asks, rounding her desk and stepping behind her chair. His hands find her shoulders and start to work away the tension of a long day, and she sighs in appreciation.
"Hmmm?" The feeling of his touch and the nearness of him are making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
"Dinner? We haven't had a proper date night in a while," he says, sounding disappointed by this development.
"We went to Per Se on Saturday, you know."
"And that was five days ago," he says, as if that explained everything. His palms start to work their way to her back and an involuntary moan escapes her lips. "Lean forward."
She complies with his request, resting her forearms against the desk, but can't resist giving him a bit of sass. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a lot going on here. You make it sound like we're an old married couple who never leave the house," she teases.
"Oh, my mistake, Donna. I thought we'd been married for the past thirteen years."
She looks back over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "If that's the case then somebody's been a very errant husband."
"Don't worry, he knows," he smirks in response. "And he intends—" She groans and arches her back as his hands press deeper into her skin. "—to spend the next thirteen making up for it."
His fingers work their way down her sides to her hips, kneading and caressing every inch, while his thumbs trace circles down her spine to her lower back. "If you intend on making it to a restaurant tonight you'll need to…ahhh…stop that," she says breathily, clutching at the arm of her chair for support as her body becomes increasingly supple and she begins to crave a different kind of release.
Harvey chuckles and withdraws his hands with one final squeeze of her waist. Brushing her hair to one side, he presses his lips to the exposed freckles on her bare shoulder and murmurs tantalizingly in her ear. "To be continued, then…"
She starts to rethink dinner and has half a mind to sit him down in her chair and start returning the favor. But she'd skipped lunch today to fit in an extra meeting, and can only survive his ministrations for so long without sustenance. He steps out from behind her chair, offering a hand to help her up. Some days she might give him a hard time for this and tell him to stop being so damn chivalrous, but right now she appreciates the assist.
"So, dinner? How about Carbone? Haven't been in a while."
Carbone. The name sends an entirely different type of chill down her spine. It takes her right back to her lowest moment, when she'd almost been driven to the point of no return.
He can sense her hesitation, but from the confusion in his eyes she's not sure he's made the connection. "We don't have to go there, I just thought…"
Objecting would require either a lie or an explanation that she doesn't want to give right now. So she forces a smile. "No, that's perfect. I know how much you love it." It's all in the past, she tells herself. She'd never been the type of woman to resent her partner's exes. And yet…there was something about that particular ex that always managed to bring out her deepest insecurities.
"But do you love it?"
"Of course," she assures him, determined to get over it. She reaches for her bag with one hand and takes his arm with the other. "You've got yourself a date, Specter."
Somehow, she manages to get so lost in him at dinner that she forgets where they are. Forgets to wonder whether he remembers bringing her here and if he did, why he'd want to retrace their path, or even go anywhere near it.
But she forgets because every time he smiles in her direction, her heart still skips a beat or two. And every time his thumb lazily brushes her wrist across the table, her skin still tingles with anticipation and longing. It's unfamiliar territory for her, because rather than fading as time passes, with Harvey the feelings only seem to intensify with each new day.
And so the three hours pass like three minutes, and before long they're getting up to leave. He takes her hand and they head in the direction of the door. That's when she spots him sitting on his own at the bar. The salt and pepper hair, the beard exactly the same as it was.
Mark.
She closes her eyes, willing it to be her imagination, just a look-alike stranger. But when she opens them it's still him, and it's too late to escape unnoticed because his eyes are drifting in their direction. A look of recognition cross Harvey's face—they'd met only once, but she had a feeling that he'd never forgotten any of the men she'd been with. She eases her hand out of his, not wanting to make this encounter any worse, but the action only draws Mark's attention there. All of a sudden he's sliding off his stool and making his way toward them.
"Donna." He stops short, staring from her to Harvey and back. "Wow. I see you finally got what you wanted." He says in a cheerful voice, but it's clear from his edgy smile that this isn't really a congratulations. The 'finally' grates. Mark had never felt like an interim solution to her, yet apparently that was how he saw it. Her eyes gravitate to his left hand. No ring.
"I guess you did too."
She can feel Harvey's gaze on her. A wave of embarrassment hits from the fact that Mark hasn't acknowledged him in any way.
"No. I didn't, actually," Mark says bitterly. "But it seems like that was a lost cause from the start."
Since Harvey appeared at her door that night she hadn't had one ounce of regret that it didn't work out with Mark. But at the same time, she never wanted him to think ill of her. "I'm sorry?" she says, not quite believing he would be so blunt.
"You know what they say…" He shakes his head and his eyes drift to Harvey as though sizing him up. "Fool me once, shame on you…fool me twice—"
"Mark," she interrupts sharply. "You should go."
"Ah, yes. You enjoy the tease, Donna, but not the follow-through."
It feels like a smack in the face. How did she ever think he was a good guy? Sensing Harvey growing tense beside her, she glances over to see him opening his mouth to say something. The last thing she needs is for him to involve himself in this conversation and make things worse. She shoots him a warning look that says, I can fight my own battles. Mark means nothing to her anymore, and she should let his comment roll over her like the insignificant remark it is. But she can't resist defending herself.
"And thank god for that," she says coolly.
Now it's Mark's turn to be offended. But mostly his expression is one of regret. Regret that he ever tried to make it work with her, or regret that she'd slipped away from him again, she's not sure. "Well, I guess we're done here. Have a nice life, Donna." And he brushes past Harvey, a little too closely, leaving her shaken and anxious.
She looks nervously to Harvey, who's rooted to the same spot, staring after Mark. "What the hell was that?" he says, bewildered.
"Nothing, he's just…jealous."
"Yeah, but…after all this time? What did you mean, he got what he wanted too?"
She frantically casts around for an explanation. They can't have this conversation right now. Definitely not in public, and definitely not before she's had a chance to calm herself down and gather her thoughts.
"Um, he…never wanted to get married," she invents. "He wasn't wearing a ring."
Harvey looks surprised, and maybe a bit unconvinced, but he finally gives her a hint of a soft smile. "His loss, Donna. And I can say with absolute confidence that that asshole didn't deserve you."
Feeling faintly numb, she manages a nod. His hand moves to the small of her back and caresses it gently, reassuringly. "C'mon, you. Let's go home. I think we left some unfinished business at the office earlier…"
The smile that forms at the recollection doesn't quite reach her eyes. Trying to clear her mind of the memories and images coursing through it (Carlyle. Connecticut. Carbone. 508. August 3) she fixes her attention on Harvey as he guides her out of the restaurant and mentally reprimands herself.
Everything you ever wanted is right in front of you. Don't look back.
She knocks softly on the door. It swings open after a few seconds and he's standing there in jeans and a white shirt, looking just as apprehensive as she feels.
"I-I didn't know if you'd come." Mark stammers. His eyes drift downward, as though he's suddenly realizing all the implications of his invitation.
"I didn't know if I would either," she admits.
"But…here you are." It's more of a question than a statement.
"Here I am."
He takes a step back to let her in, his eyes now fixed on hers. She hesitates for a split second, then steps over the threshold. The room feels uninviting. Cold. Beige.
He glances quickly toward a bottle of whiskey on the desk. "Um…do you want to…"
She shakes her head. She's already drunk enough tonight to work up the courage to come. Slowly unbuttoning her coat, she slides it off her shoulders to reveal the black lace underneath. She'd figured if she was going to be bad, she might as well go all the way. Because after all, being good hadn't gotten her anywhere. Being selfless, supportive, loyal—all useless, it seemed. All taken for granted. Her heart unclaimed; her body, unwanted.
Mark exhales and runs a hand through his hair. "Jesus. Donna…" His eyes brazenly rake up and down her body and she knows she shouldn't feel good about this. But lately she's had enough of being complimented on her wit or resourcefulness or problem-solving skills. Right now, what she needs is to be desired.
"I know this isn't exactly how you—"
She pushes aside his reservations. "Don't talk, Mark. Just fuck me."
His eyes widen slightly at her command and he's still for a moment. Then they both move at the same time, meeting somewhere in the space between them, their lips bruising against each other in a searching kiss.
Her brain is screaming no and her body's screaming yes, and the only way she can keep her body in charge is by surrendering herself to his touch, closing her eyes and forgetting that there's a Mrs. Meadows somewhere out there. That she's come to his hotel room dressed like a hooker and that she'll probably go home feeling like one too. She loathes herself a little more with every second. But then he starts kissing his way from her ear to her shoulder and his hands slide to her hips. As he presses his own need into her, every last remnant of protest in her mind melts away.
So she gives in.
Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she thinks that if she can't see the man caressing her body then maybe, just maybe she can convince herself that it's anyone else. Or someone else. Someone who hadn't touched her that way in thirteen years, and probably never would again.
She pushes the thought away. It's unhelpful.
His lips are on hers again but then she feels him pull back, breathing unsteadily. "Donna…look at me," Mark whispers, cupping her face with his hands.
She wrenches her eyes open and recoils from his embrace when she sees Harvey just behind him, standing at the foot of the bed.
Harvey!? Why was he here, and how could she not have noticed him before?
"Mark, what's he—" She looks back and forth between the two men in confusion.
"What are you doing, Donna?" Harvey says, with alarm.
"How did you—" She suddenly aware that she's almost naked, and yet he seems to be looking in every direction but at her. In her haze of confusion she wonders whether it's because he thinks he shouldn't, or because…he doesn't want to?
"I feel like I don't even know you anymore," he says with disgust, taking a step backward. "Sleeping with a married man?"
"No!" She gasps. "It's a mistake, I won't do it—it's not who I am—" He's only a few feet away, but it feels like there's an ocean of distance between them; a space that can never be bridged.
"Well, I'm glad that realization came to you at the eleventh hour." His eyes are glassy. Somehow it's even worse than anger, the disappointment etched in his face.
"Please, don't hate—" she sobs. Waves of despair threaten to drown her.
"We're done," he says dismissively. "How could I ever be with someone who would—"
"What?" She says, desperately trying to understand. "But we're not…you're with her—"
"That's right, he is." Donna jumps out of her skin as Paula suddenly appears beside her, where Mark had been just a second ago. "It was so lovely of you to come, Donna. But the only one Harvey wants tonight is me," she says sweetly, and Donna watches, horrified, as he steps toward them with his gaze directed on the other woman beside her.
"I—" She gulps for air as her head starts spinning, and feels herself falling into oblivion as everything fades to black.
She sits bolt upright in a panic, drenched in sweat. Taking deep, staggering breaths, she looks frantically around the room.
Harvey's condo.
Not a hotel room.
And Harvey himself, lying next to her in bed, regarding her with concern.
"Donna? Are you okay?" He reaches out to stroke her upper arm reassuringly.
"I…nightmare," she mumbles, burying her face in her hands and sliding back down under the covers. Every muscle in her body is tightened with anxiety, and it feels as though she's just run a marathon.
It didn't happen. You walked away. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to.
She starts shivering through the thin fabric of her nightgown and he wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. "Hey, you're okay…you're safe. What happened?"
She collapses into the warmth and security of his chest and tries to calm her racing heart. "Nothing, I'm fine…just a very bad dream..."
But he's not that easily convinced. "I just wondered…you were…saying things," he hesitates.
"What?" she exclaims, horrified at the thought of revealing everything she'd just imagined.
"You…you said Mark a few minutes ago," he says slowly, his voice a mix of confusion and hurt.
Panic rises inside her, but she strains to keep her face neutral. "Oh…Harvey, trust me, it wasn't anything good. It must be because we ran into him today, that's all. Let's go back to sleep?" she pleads, snuggling against his body. Breathing in his calming presence, she tries to comfort herself with the knowledge that they're both exactly where they want to be.
He leans back and looks at her with an expression that would be inscrutable to anyone else, but she can sense the faint tension around his eyes. "Donna, is there something…you're not telling me about him? I always thought he was a nice guy, but now…having nightmares…I'm worried about you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" He brushes the hair back from her damp forehead and rests his hand against her cheek. The cool touch on her skin instantly relaxes her.
But the fact that he's being so considerate and understanding is only making her feel more guilty about where she'd found herself in her dream. She remembers his anguished reaction and panics at the thought that his empathy might not extend to the image of her possibly breaking up a marriage.
"Harvey, it…took me back to a really dark place. I don't want to go back there. Let's focus on the present, and the future? We have so much to look forward to," she pleads.
"Donna, it's me. Open up," he says, his expression full of worry. She briefly registers the fact that his eyes haven't left hers since she'd woken.
Distressed by having to keep something from the man she loves, but knowing that choosing honesty could cost her, she can barely form a cohesive thought. "To you…I don't know if I can….about this…"
"What does that mean?" He's wounded by her remark. And she doesn't blame him. But…
"Harvey, you mean everything to me. I can't handle you being disappointed in…" Tears begin to well at the corners of her eyes as she recalls the last time she'd disappointed him, and how it had nearly torn them apart. But it didn't, she reminds herself. Because he'd forgiven her. Unconditionally.
His face softens and he gently reaches for her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb. "Donna. You've never been a disappointment to me in thirteen years, and you're not going to start now."
"That's not true, I…" His unwavering gaze is suddenly too much, and she has to avert her eyes in shame.
"Listen to me." His fingers tenderly lift her chin until their eyes meet again. "You once said that you wished I'd be there for you, the same way you'd been there for me every single day of our time together. And you were right. I never forgot that. I know I've got a lot of catching up to do, but I want to be there for you now. Please?"
She's touched by his earnest tone and his remembrance of her words. But the context in which she said them only brings back more painful memories. She realizes with a sigh that the only way to rid herself forever of the thoughts haunting her is to talk through them. "Just…promise to let me finish, before you react?"
"Okay," he says uncertainly.
Suddenly the bed feels like a cage and the duvet seems to be suffocating her. Restless, she pushes it off and sits up. He does the same, angling his body to face her, and waits for her to speak.
There's no turning back now, and she doesn't want to anyway. And that thought calms her.
"Today…wasn't the first time I saw Mark since we broke up. We…had a…thing. Last year."
"A thing," he repeats, seeming almost amused by her choice of descriptor. "As in, you dated again?"
"Not exactly…" she trails off. She's knows she coming off evasive but she's trying to pick her words carefully, not wanting to upset him more than necessary. Really, was there any word to describe what had happened between them? A flirtation? An almost-affair?
"Donna, it's OK," he says reassuringly, resting a hand on her thigh. "We weren't together then, you didn't need to hide that from me."
"But I was ashamed," she says in a voice that's almost a whisper.
"Why?" The furrow of concern in his brow deepens.
"Because he…" She hesitates, but there's no avoiding it. "Was married."
"What?"
"Wait," she says anxiously, moving her hand to his chest. "Let me explain. After we…reconnected, he said he didn't want to lose me again. I told him that I wasn't interested in that kind of relationship, but then…" She falters. Now she's arrived at the part of the story that she'd give anything to erase from her memory.
He pulls back from her cautiously and the increased distance between them sends a chill through her body that's mirrored in her heart.
"Then…what?" he prompts.
She wonders where to start. How to explain the torment she'd felt that day. "Do you remember…your two-month anniversary with Paula?"
From the startled look on his face, she can tell he hasn't yet connected the dots to the source of her pain. "Not particularly. I'd rather not relive it. What does that have to do with—"
"I saw her in your office that day—"
"What?" From the horror in his face, Paula clearly hadn't mentioned this encounter.
"She came in to give you your anniversary present, but you were out for the day. I said if she needed any restaurant recommendations, you loved Carbone. And it turned out she already had a reservation there."
Realization spreads over his face. "I…didn't even remember that dinner. Is that why you weren't sure about going there tonight?"
She nods apologetically. "I thought it meant that…maybe she knew you as well as I did. And it hurt. Because you'd let her into your life in a way that you'd never done for me."
There it was, all her insecurity laid bare. And some might call it jealousy but it had been so much more than that. Betrayal came closer to the truth.
"Donna, she asked me where I wanted to go for dinner. No one could ever know me as well as you do," he says, his voice laden with guilt.
"I think I knew that deep down, but still, it was her that you were celebrating with, not me. And I just—something inside me broke that day," she says quietly, looking down at her hands. "I needed to be wanted, more than anything. So when Mark invited me to his hotel, I went, but—"
Her eyes flit to his, needing to gauge his reaction. There's no anger in his eyes, only sadness and remorse.
"But I didn't go in, because I realized…that I deserved more and being with Mark wouldn't do anything to fix the pain of seeing you with someone else."
It's new to them, this level of honesty. And it doesn't quite come naturally yet. But she knows it's what's been missing from their relationship in the past. The vague language of being bothered won't cut it anymore.
She watches him apprehensively, waiting for his verdict.
"Donna…I understand."
"You do?" She sighs in relief.
"I felt the same way when I saw you with Thomas. It didn't 'bother' me. It tortured me."
"But…it didn't make you go off and sleep with your ex," she says hesitantly. When had they switched places, to the point where he was the more emotionally responsible one?
"You didn't do that either," he reminds her. "And even if you had, I would forgive you." He's unexpectedly calm and she can barely believe his measured reaction, her dream too fresh in her mind.
"You really mean that?"
"As I recall, I didn't check whether Thomas was still in the picture before I came inside."
No, he hadn't. Despite that, she feels as though she doesn't deserve to get off this easily. "But…we'd only just started dating. Isn't it worse when we're talking about a marriage? Someone's family?" she says tentatively.
"Donna, you have no idea how much I regret this, but…if I was the reason you were in such pain that you contemplated doing something like that…I can't possibly judge you for something that was my fault." His eyes are heavy with the burden of thirteen years of forced loneliness, of missed opportunities and regrets.
The weight lifting off her shoulders triggers a rush of feeling, and the words tumble out of her. "I thought—in my dream, I made the wrong choice with Mark and you were so disappointed in me…and she was there too and she said that you only wanted her, not me…"
No explanation is needed to specify who she is. His expression is one of gut-wrenching remorse. "Donna, if I had known that you…" He shakes his head, looking tormented. "I've always wanted you. More than I've wanted anyone else."
"Not in that way—" she objects.
"In exactly that way," he says in a low voice, releasing a wave of longing somewhere deep inside her.
"Then why didn't you…make me yours?" she whispers.
"Because…for a long time, sleeping with a woman was a finite thing to me. With an expiration date. And I needed you to be…infinite."
She stares at him in awe. Every time she begins to doubt the depth of his feelings, he always manages to say or do something to show her exactly how he loves her.
"Harvey…" she says softly, eyes glistening with tears. "You've been my forever since the day we met. I'm so sorry I ever doubted you—"
"No, Donna. You've shown more faith in me than anyone I've ever known. Despite knowing my flaws better than anyone." He sighs and his gaze falls downward, disappointed in himself. "And maybe that scared me a bit, that I've never been able to hide anything from you. If you doubted me, I deserved it. I'm sorry for every time that I hurt you."
"I know you never did it on purpose. But…" She probably shouldn't broach this topic, not when he's just given her his forgiveness. But the question has been eating away at her. "Harvey, do you think, if I hadn't kissed you…you'd still be with…?"
"No," he says with conviction.
"How do you know?"
"Because sooner or later, I would have kissed you."
His words startle her. She wasn't expecting that. "Even though—"
"Donna, you have no idea how many times I had to struggle not to kiss you. When you told me you were coming back to me I wanted to gather you in my arms and never let go." He reaches up and lightly touches a strand of her hair. "The night you helped me hang my mother's painting I wanted to tell you that not only are you my family, but I want us to be a family together. After Jessica left, you held my hand, but I really just wanted to hold all of you. And when—"
Unable to resist him any longer, she leans over and cuts him off by pressing her lips to his. As if to show her how much he meant it, he kisses her back with intensity, hands joining behind her back and pulling her in. The tension has finally dissipated from her body and she just feels completely, deliriously, happy. Some days she still can't believe that everything they have is real. That she can lean on him now the way he's always leaned on her, and he won't just hold her steady; he'll help take away her burden too.
She draws back slightly, until their lips are just brushing. It would be too easy to lose themselves in each other now, with the emotions of their confessions making everything feel more visceral, more urgent. But she needs to know one more thing first. "Harvey, does it…change how you think of me?"
"No, Donna. I know you have zero intention of sleeping with him or any other married men in the future. And that's all that matters now," he says, running his fingertips down her sides, her skin tingling at the touch.
"Well…I'm hoping there's one married man I'll get to sleep with," she says, her eyes dancing suggestively.
His eyes widen in surprise. "Are you proposing to me, Paulsen?" he says in mock astonishment.
"Oh no. You're not getting off the hook that easily, Specter." She gives him a playful tug by the hem of his shirt.
"Damn. I was thinking that was one thing I could cross off my to-do list."
She stares at him, taken aback by his openness. "Wow, you're going to be that honest about it."
His jaw goes slack and he appears to be temporarily stunned before he grins and plays along. "Saves time," he says in the cocky voice of his 28-year old self, his eyebrows jumping with intent.
"You know," she muses, "the last time you said that, I don't recall that it saved us any time at all."
"That's because you weren't receptive to my proposal."
"Well, that was because I didn't like the terms of that one. The next one you come up with will be very well received," she says with a knowing smile.
"Donna, what…"
"You always say that good lawyers only ask questions they already know the answer to. So…I just wanted to make sure you know what the answer is." Her tone is earnest. Despite the levity of the moment before, she hopes he'll understand how much she means it.
Harvey looks slightly dazed as he replies. "Are you saying…"
"Yes. I am."
He's quiet for a second, apparently lost in thought. "Good," he says thickly.
"Good," she agrees, giving him the smallest of nods.
No more words are needed, because the moment of understanding that passes between them says everything that could be said. He pulls her into an embrace and their foreheads rest together, their breaths mingling as they wordlessly share everything they feel.
After a minute he moves to leave the bed and she resists, wrapping both palms around his arm and leaning into his shoulder. "Stay."
"I'm not going anywhere. Just want to show you something." He goes to the dresser and removes an envelope from the top drawer. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he hands it to her and wraps an arm around her waist. "Read it."
It's addressed to Harvey, with a Boston return address. Intrigued, she extracts the letter and begins to read as he watches her expectantly.
My dear Harvey,
You've just gone back to New York and I'm sitting here gathering my thoughts about what it means to have my son back in my life after I thought I'd lost you forever.
Your forgiveness means more to me than you'll ever know. And I'm afraid I have to ask for even more of it, for suggesting that our faults were equal in any way. It was unfair of me to place any blame on you when I was the cause of the pain you were feeling.
She looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, Harvey…you don't know how proud I am of you for getting on that plane…this is so…"
"I know, Donna." He takes her free hand and intertwines their fingers. "Keep reading."
I have so much admiration for the man you've become, and while I can't say I've played a role in that lately it's clear that there's someone in your life who has.
You said that someone very special to you convinced you to come, and although I don't know her name, I owe her more than I'll ever be able to repay. Please tell her that. From the pride in your face when you mentioned her, I can see you won't be letting her go any time soon. I hope to meet her someday so I can express my gratitude in person (and maybe call her my daughter-in-law?)
Overwhelmed with emotions, she's completely lost for words. "Harvey…you said that…about me? Even before we…" she trails off weakly.
"Yes." He gently wipes a tear from her cheek.
"But did you tell her…that it wasn't like that between us?"
He shakes his head, his eyes soft and full of adoration. "Wasn't it?" The corners of his mouth curl upward into a smile. "Nothing she said was wrong. But it took me too long to understand just how right it was. All of it."
She's not sure her heart can take much more, but Lily's letter has utterly captivated her attention. She rests her head on his shoulder and turns her eyes back to the page.
I know I'm being presumptuous here, but I'm not sure when I'll see you again, so I wouldn't forgive myself for not saying something. Because of my mistakes, you may not see that marriage is a beautiful thing. But it is, Harvey. You deserve to be a husband and a father. Although there are no guarantees in life, when you find that special person as you have, it makes all of the challenges and hardships worthwhile.
I've said enough—all that's left to say is thank you, thank you, thank you. To both of you.
Missing you already and hoping to see you again soon.
All my love,
Mom
The tears are flowing down her face by the time she's finished reading. "Harvey…" she breathes, turning back to look at him. It's all she can manage to say right now, but sometimes it's enough.
"I know it's early and we still have a lot to figure out together, but I want you to know that that's the future I see for us." He gathers both of her hands into his own and softly circles her knuckles with his thumb. "And I never imagined that with anyone but you. So…" He places a kiss on her forehead, his lips pausing after to linger just above her skin. "If you want that too, I'm all in."
"Harvey, all I want with you is…"
She remembers how a year ago, she'd been devastated by the realization that her soulmate was slipping away from her and into the arms of another woman.
How a few short weeks ago, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never find that kind of happiness. That her fate was to love more strongly than she would ever be loved. Her despair that because of something she did, he was lost to her forever—not only as a lover, but also as a partner and a friend.
And now, they had…
"Everything."
I've had a dream since I met you, every night
And you've been in my dream, wearing white
.
.
.
A/N: I've thought a lot about what Donna went through during 7x08 and this was my way of working through some of these thoughts and dealing with the trauma of season 7. If you got to this point, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :) And thank you to Wika for the feedback and encouragement, I wouldn't have got it done without you xx