In the Ashes and the Dust
Category: Angst/Romance.
Pairing: Darvey
Summary: The seriousness demands an answer and Mike's voice is hoarse, the words rushing out in a panic. "I... I just got a call. There was an accident and-" he stops, swallowing dryly as the news falls into the expanse of space between them, "Harvey, it's Donna."
Warnings: Contains lots of swearing and character death.
AN: This is heavy on the angst and I don't want to spoil anything but if you stick it out there's a happy ending I promise! :)
Just the car that we ride in
The home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
As life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Peter Gabriel, I Grieve
･ﾟ: *･ﾟ* :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
Mike's cell clatters to the desk, the retracting hand combing up through his short hair. The air in the room feels suddenly heavy, musty, and the thickness clogs his throat making it impossible to swallow. Reality blurs and for a second the phone call didn't happen, phased out by a silent desperate plea, but the sharp stab in his chest pierces the false illusion.
It's real and he needs to tell Harvey.
He stands grabbing his phone and wobbling on unsteadily legs as his reach stretches for the door. The whole building feels like a house of mirrors, everything swimming beyond recognition as he stumbles his way to Harvey's office. Through the glass he can make out the man's torso obstructed by paperwork, stacks spread high across the usually pristine desk, and shock absorbs Mike's momentum bringing him to a standstill at the threshold. He tries to speak but the sound squeaks in his throat, the words lost under an awkward and abrupt cough.
Harvey's gaze drives up at the sound but his response is sharp and dismissive, "whatever you want Mike, it had better be goddamn quick."
A knot forms in the young lawyer's chest preventing the release of an explanation. The firm is in trouble. He knows that without reading into the sea of stacked folders. That's why the phones are diverted, why he received the call instead of Harvey, and why it's now his responsibility to deliver the devastating news.
Only he can't.
His hands are shaking, whole body clenched in shock, and he closes his eyes breathing in slowly to calm the rush of blood roaring behind his ears.
The continued silence ignites Harvey's irritation and his head shoots up again, about to snap, but the look on Mike's face stalls the pissy retort he has ready. Years ago he wouldn't have been able to decipher it or maybe it would have meant something else entirely but this isn't the kid overreacting. Something is wrong and he instinctively searches for Donna. If there's a problem she'll be in the vicinity but there's no movement in the shadows and his expression pulls into a tight frown. "Mike, what's going on?"
The seriousness demands an answer and Mike's voice is hoarse, the words rushing out in a panic. "I... I just got a call. There was an accident and-" he stops, swallowing dryly as the news falls into the expanse of space between them, "Harvey, it's Donna."
Her name seems to reverberate around the office, the rest of the sentence sticking awkwardly because he can't say it out loud. Can't bear the thought of putting a meaning to the call and making it real. He isn't ready to let Donna go but the pain in Harvey's expression drives the inescapable truth through him and he chokes out an apology, flinching when Harvey hurls defiance back in his face.
"No, don't you dare say you're sorry!" He pushes up from the desk in a surge of anger, searching again for the firms COO in the dim light. The shadows move of their own accord playing tricks with his mind and he lets them summarising he would know if something had happened. Feel it. It's a ridiculous notion fuelled by desperation that wouldn't hold up in any courtroom or judge chambers but he clings to the hope tearing his gaze back to the young man, "I don't know what you think happened, but-"
"Harvey." The plea falls heavily over the rant of denial. He wishes to god it weren't true, that he had made a mistake, but the police matched her ID to the body. Witnesses reported her stepping out from the curb and an APB has been issued on the licence plate of the car involved. Every detail is embedded in his memory, trapped with nowhere to go except out into the stillness of the office. "It was a hit and run," his voice is hollow and filled with anguish, "they tried to revive her but it was already too late."
Harvey's shoulders lift with a sharp intake of air the silence deafening as he turns to the window shielding his emotions.
Then he snaps.
The neat line of basketballs crash to the floor in a violent outburst and Mike flinches, his body poised to intervene when the office suddenly goes still, the sound of ragged breathing mixing with the out of sync bouncing balls.
Mike's heart breaks as Harvey sags catching his palms on the display unit but his sympathy falls flat under the weight of Harvey's furious tone.
"Get out." His fingers scratch the varnish curling tightly over the edge, gaze drifting to the city below. The lights are blinding driving a pain that radiates down through every muscle and crevice. He can't lose Donna. He can't be without her and panic swells absorbing his hold on reality, the whole word vanishing into a vast expanse of nothingness as he reaches for his tie desperate to loosen the pressure.
The release barely registers. Instead a rush of dizziness washes over him and he stumbles towards where he keeps an aged bottle of Macallan. Flashes of drinking together overwhelm him and fuel the need to obliterate every conscious thought. He wants to forget, to be alone in his misery, but Mike's presence is unwavering and he growls as the younger man steals the bottle from his hand. "I told you to leave."
Mike doesn't respond, the silence strained as he splashes the amber liquid into two crystal tumblers. Drinking wont help but it will numb the shock and at least one of them needs to keep it together. "Here." He slides the glass over and takes a sip himself choking back his anguish. It's like his parents all over again but he's older now and becoming morbidly seasoned to losing people he cares about."They said I... someone needs to go down and officially ID the body." He swallows the harshness of the statement leaving the rest of his drink. He cant fix this. All he can do is try to keep the situation from spiralling, take control where he can.
Harvey doesn't give a shit what they need. The whole fucking building could collapse and he wouldn't move an inch, save for scotch travelling up with the swing of his arm. He's been here before, the day his father passed away, and Donna was his rock wordlessly making arrangements so he had time to process and grieve. She saved him from himself and he wont do what Mike's asking, he can't.
The tension in the office is palpable and Mike takes the dead-air as a sign the decision lies solely with him. He can handle it but can't be in two places at once and steels himself against the protest he knows is coming. "I'll call Rach or Louis, you shouldn't be alone right now."
Right now.
Harvey bitterly replays the comment pouring more scotch into his glass. What difference does it make? The next hour, week, year... without Donna he'd rather be alone and swallows another shot with a tight wince. "Just go," he snaps, shrugging free of his jacket and letting it drop to the floor. He doesn't need a fucking babysitter and clumsily releases the first two buttons of his shirt fighting the urge to lash out at the papers stacked high on his desk. "I'm fine. I need a minute that's all."
'Like hell' Mike thinks mumbling the phrase out under his breath. The whole goddamn situation is far from fine but there isn't any point feeding an argument. He's going to call someone either way and he claps Harvey's shoulder, the small comfort brief but genuinely sincere. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't do anything stupid."
Harvey meets the instruction with a look of contempt, the warning clear without needing to explain it and when Mike reluctantly leaves he's hit by a split second of relief. It doesn't last. Instead the spark ignites his fear of abandonment of losing every one he ever gave a stupid, fucking damn about!
He reacts instinctively, the papers scattering and one of the glasses breaking as her name catches in his throat.
Every challenge he's faced, every situation he's ever moved on from pales in comparison. No shot at redemption, no chance for remorse or salvation. She's gone and so is everything he ever cared about. There's no coming back from it.
Not this time.
･ﾟ: *･ﾟ* :･ﾟ:･ﾟ