Summary: To add to the strain with everything else going on, Harvey Specter is tasked with hiring a new Associate. He picks a human…who's also not even a Lawyer.
RE BETA'D AND TWEAKED AS OF 20.01.16
Donna/Harvey and Other Pairings along the way. AU.
As mature as themes can get on here.
If you want a Soundtrack to the Opening, type 'DJ Fresh Dig this Vibe' in Youtube. Enjoy.
The Associate
By Atheniandream
"Good Evening Mister Specter," Says a guard; standing to attention as Harvey Specter saunters casually into the glass lobby of his apartment block; his hair slicked and shiny against the bright fluorescent lights as he swipes his entry card into the elevator console.
"Don't you mean 'morning'?" He looks at the guard with a sharpened smirk.
"Of course Sir; my apologies." The guard stiffens.
"Don't let it happen again." He says, his voice even; his brown eyes sharp but flat as he glares at the guard. "You run on our time, remember that."
"Of course, Sir. Have a good day."
"I always do." He smirks, stepping in the entirely glass elevator.
The ride up is always too slow, too regulated to the dirge of human speed. He waits for the elevator to rise; a gradual view of his apartment appearing. The square footage is very large; with tinted wall to wall windows. He'd settled on UV tint as opposed to the Holographic imagery of the day; pointing out to the architect that there was no use in pretending that the sun wasn't there. A glass staircase divides the room in half, securing the mezzanine level. It's light and open and lavish in its sharp angular form and perfectly chosen artworks of Miro and Pollock amidst the contemporary furniture.
The elevator stops with a ding; its release smooth as the doors open. When he hears the muffled cries of someone withstanding pain and the smell of a vaguely-20 something year old, he rolls his eyes, tired of what the sound suggests and sets his briefcase down, turning into the nearest bathroom.
The light is glaring; the dust motes floating around the air-conditioned room distract him as he pouts into the mirror. He hasn't aged a day in forty-five; his slight frown line unchanging; the mole above his eyebrow still the same size as it always was. He squints, noticing that one of his contacts is askew. It doesn't matter anyway; as he leans forward, a hand going into the side cabinet to bring out a container. He flips the tiny plastic container open and pokes a finger into his eye, taking out the brown contact and placing it in the container; doing the same with the second before splashing his face with cold water. He's gotten used to wearing them over the years; a formality that's become a daily routine necessary for maintaining a mainstream path with the rest of the world. He remembers that he had dark brown eyes when he was younger; human and pliable; it only makes sense to maintain that sense of history, even if his history was re-edited decades ago. He stares into the mirror again; the white and blue glare of his pupils bending the light around them with iridescence; seeming to shimmer within the confines of a sharp blood-red line around the outside of the iris. He's not sure which way he prefers them; he has never quite gotten used to the idea that they aren't really his but the product of a seemingly DNA-changing strain of viral disease. But he's thankful none the less for the perks that come with it; a striking look is an easy bargain. It's the anti-UV foundation he has to put on every day that makes him snarl every morning before.
He exits the bathroom, moving closer to the quiet sloshing sound in the lounge; glancing to see a pair of bare arms and long brown hair dripping down the back of his black leather couch as he puts his steel coloured suit jacket and polished black shoes into the closet. He lets out a frustrated growl.
She's making a habit of picking people up,he thinks to himself. This could be the start of a problem…
He returns to the lounge; moving around the couch this time with an immediate frown when he spies wavy copper hair and the blue silk wrapped lady in question laid on his white carpet with her fangs in the side of a young girl's thigh; the likes of which is pouting and yelping quietly, her fingers digging into the back of his couch; most likely ruining the fifty year old leather.
"Donna?" He queries.
He gets no reply, watching her throat squeeze gently and her lips lap up stray drops of blood as it misses it's connection with the white carpet. Her hands play with the girl's calf; tracing little patterns as she sucks harder and harder; her large barely concealed breasts heaving against her privately contained frenzy.
It occurs to him that he should get off on watching her. Maybe he's grown old, but it only worries him; maybe makes him a little jealous, even, that her attention isn't reserved just for him anymore.
"Donna." He repeats, firmer as he stands above her. She should know better than to completely ignore him; regardless of how engrossed she is.
An instant eruption of anger flares up in him as he grabs her throat and in a flash of movement his other hand grabs at her waist, turning her to him. She arches her back as he pulls her close. She snarls at him from being stopped mid-feed, her eyes flashing at his as his face darts to the girl.
"Get out, now." He says roughly. The girl snaps out of her supposed daze, hobbling to gather her clothes before disappearing down the hall in a mass of tangled hair and tanned skin.
She relaxes then, her fangs disappearing and her wild look replaced with a scrutiny as she licks her lips.
"That was mean." She says pointedly, her nails reaching out to scratch slowly at the nape of his neck.
"Stop bringing back strays." He says; an evenness in his voice as his hands tighten around her waist, bringing her back to standing.
"She was pretty. And she offered." She says, her eyebrow twitching in a challenge.
"I'll bet she did." He muses to the contrary. "And what's wrong with Rachel…? You get bored?"
"Rachel's tired. You know I want to change her soon so… I thought Misty was a nice change of pace."
"Misty…really?" He gives her a disappointed look; until something gains his attention. "Wait a sec…you're changing Rachel? I thought she was a pet?"
"Of course; but she's the best paralegal Pearson Specter has… and she wants to be a lawyer; she could be useful. Plus… she's so darn cute I just can't resist."
"What is it with you and brunettes?" He asks, tempering his frustration through a wave of intrigue.
"I know you how much you like them." She smiles, the devil in her eyes.
"I'm not the one bringing attractive takeout to our home. Why don't you ever bring a man back?" He replies irritably.
"Because you're the only man I want in this house. And…you know I'd end up wanting to fuck them."
"I'll never understand your fixation; playing with your food." He says, examining her. She barely keeps still long enough for him to look at these days.
It brings a sadness to his tone.
"I didn't want it to get your back up. I know how you hate being second best." There is sarcasm in her voice that he knows she is playing on.
"You want to stop getting my back up; use a cup once in a while." He says irritably; pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he looks down into her eyes which gradually redden as the blood seeps into her system.
It seems to be enough; that steely look in her eye begins to wane.
"I'm sorry, Harvey." She says; her voice lingering as she softens into him, a foot coming between both of his as she pulls his head back with a yank; her tongue trailing the length of his throat leaving a feint blood soaked smear from where her tongue has been. "Forgive me?" She asks. It brings a softness to his eyes, just a flicker before he retaliates, grabbing her hand and gently releasing it from his hair, before his lips find hers; hungry and wanting.
Suddenly he pauses, his eyes spying something on the floor and digs his cell phone out of his pocket speed dialing like he's done it a hundred times; or more specifically; ninety-four times so far.
"I need someone to clean up the carpet. Donna's been fishing again. And make sure the girl walking around is taken care of. I don't want to see her on Channel ten in the morning."
"So… how was work?" She says, coy and wholly aware of the need for a subject change as she traces his jaw with her black polished fingernails.
"I missed you." When she looks to him, she can already tell what he's thinking. "I know...I'm not allowed out yet." She reams off the words like a niggling instruction,er
Her faked innocence annoys him then, for her complete lack or want of understanding in the moment.
He sighs, his face twitching. "Not after the Rachel fiasco; No."
"We'll get her changed; and then we can all go back to work like a happy little family." She suggests; a limp attempt at placating him.
"You need to learn how to behave, first." He fires, his eyes flashing.
"Why?" She frowns.
"Because…you're brand new."
"Brand new? Harvey…I'm 39. I read the warning label…" She pushes against him, her slightly bloody hands fisting his shirt.
"Actually, you were 38…but in this world you're still considered young. And as much as I love you; you're skipping out in the day to lure beautiful women to our apartment. You need structure; you can't just suck on any hot peace of ass that waltzes past you on tenth. Are you even wearing contacts when you're out?" He winces slightly at her need to make things messy now that she's joined his side. She's used to be so…neat; organised. Honest.
"Do sunglasses count?" She replies with a playful smile.
"You need to have etiquette. You used to have manners." He lectures.
"I used to have a heartbeat and a higher tolerance to sun, but my blood sucking Boss changed me, or did you forget that one little detail?" She hisses.
Her words cut; but it's not the first time she's made a play for his shortcomings.
"Yeah, I'm starting to wonder if that was a good idea." His finger and thumb pinches the top of his nose; his anger rising once more before he abates it. "Just…don't lose who you are, okay?" He says tenderly; playing with the errant strands of her wavy hair; eliciting a silvery purr from her chest.
"Well…I have you for that." She whispers, her fingers playing with the silk of his tie.
"That's what I'm worried about." He looks at her, concern etching into his face all the way to his bones.
When he'd changed her, firstly he'd had no choice… and he thought it was for the best; the best way to keep her from succumbing to old age and weakness and accidents. He couldn't deal with her being a possible target any longer and she was level headed enough, sharp and sensible in her human life; it should have translated perfectly. But she was still young and feral and impulsive and eager to fuck the world at her own convenience. It had been so long since he'd been like that, lust-driven and impulsive that it was hard to decipher her personality from the animal-like hormones raging through her. Jessica would have his ass when she found out about her latest discretion; if she hadn't already been informed.
"Have you eaten, yet? You look tired." She says, in a flash of the old Donna. It throws him for a second; back to their old routines, with her arms around his neck and a concerned mothering look on her face. But the tempo of movements are wrong; her skin cooler, her eyes danger-filled. He sidesteps her, letting her arms drop to her sides and moves around towards the kitchen counter.
"Well…Harvey?" She repeats, her hands resting on her waist in frustration.
"I'm not hungry." He mumbles, a deadpanned expression as he pulls a bottle of Scotch out of the cupboard and a tumbler to match.
She appears beside him in a flash; her hand clamping over the tumbler as she places a kiss to the smear she left on his neck earlier. "Abstinence doesn't look good on you." She says sharply.
His eyes flick towards her now vivid red orbs and wishes for her old dark browns. "And here you are stopping me from having a drink." He can still see a few freckles through the porcelain sheen of her skin. It's a minor comfort. "You used to approve of my restraint." He notes.
"I used to eat eggs for breakfast Harvey. Roll with the punches." She fires at him; then abates it, softening. "It'd be more fun if we did it together," She purrs, sliding herself between him and the countertop. "I'll let you choose." She bribes, her fingers wrapping around the button of his pants.
He looks at her fully, his arms either side of the counter, face hardening. "No." He says, and means it. She snarls, moving away from. At the last moment his hand wraps around hers, pulling her back to him.
"Listen to me now; you get to keep Rachel, but you don't get to torture her anymore. Understand?"
"Harvey," She objects, a slight sneer and flame about her as she moves out of his grasp.
He catches her, yanking her arm. "Do you…understand?" He says, firmer this time.
"Fine," She says quickly; kissing him fully on the lips, if not a little rougher than usual.
"I only do it because I love you." He whispers, his hand cupping her cool cheek.
"You're such a pussy." She says, rolling her eyes.
He'll settle for that, as he watches her seductively glide out of his view.
It occurs to him that she needs so much more attention than she used to. He'd never thought about that before; the attention span, the need, the want to do nothing but eat and fuck and eat and play and fuck 'just one more time'. She used to be able to sit in a corner and read Vogue and he'd have to be the one to gain her attention. Again, she was young. Things could change. He wished they would change a little faster, even if he had all the time in the world.
He shuts a door behind him; padlocking the room from the inside. He turns when he hears her stiffen, an almost shriek covered by a rustle.
"Hey Rach," He says, level and somewhat cordial. He walks over to the young paralegal and frowns. Donna's been in here again; the evidence is stacked up. Rachel is covered in patterns up and down her bare legs…in her own blood no less. And she's shivering, for the little dress she has on. The blanket she had appears to be gone, leaving only a half-eaten sandwich and her double bed with no sheet. The room is windowless save for a small screen on the wall. It was supposed to be an interrogation room for intruders or a panic room, should the Penthouse ever be compromised. But since the Incident, and The Collectives' refusal to safeguard Rachel's wellbeing, teamed with Donna's ability to find her anywhere on the planet; Harvey was forced to keep her in the room, until he could teach Donna to behave properly; either that, or until her thirst for fucking everything up around her subdued somewhat. It was unfortunate, what demons poked out when you removed the thin human wrapper. Humans were often the immediate targets; things often became even more dire when the authorities refused to help those who truly needed protection from his kind.
"How are you?" He asks; a slight hint of care in his voice as he looks her over.
"You're kidding me, right?" She spits out, disbelieving and hunched on the bed but eyes looking no less steely at his.
"No. I like you Rach; you're a good person. I am…sorry about this."
"Then please… just let me go, Harvey; let me…go." There is a panic, a whimper in her voice. She has one of those faces, child-like with dark eyes and hair and those lips that pucker like a child's that make your heart quiver if it's fortunate enough to win you over.
"I'm sorry Rach; Donna wants you on our team now. And you know I can't help but give her what she wants." He says tiredly. "You're here for your protection; you know I can't control her out there." He tries to explain.
"Please just kill me…or, let me go home, Please, Harvey." She asks him, her face tired with the continuous fear.
"She won't torture you anymore. I promise you that. She's not allowed to…defy me." He tells her.
He watches the cogs turn in her head as she stops pleading, lets a tear run down her check and the defeated look wash over her.
"I hope you're right." Her face levels; her eyes falling on her bound hands. "She's gone isn't she?" She asks, a solitary tear sliding from her face.
"No. She'll come back. It just...takes time. I'm sorry you got caught up in all this." He says, half-heartedly.
"I'm sorry I met you both." She replies, her voice trailing off into a disconnectedness.
Working in the day is frustrating, but necessary. The world turns in the human 9-5 and if the firm is to survive then they have to operate in both worlds. He shuffles in the elevator surrounded by humans and vampire's alike. Humans smell the strongest first; sweet and saccharin with a touch of spice. He used to love the smell; was obsessed with it even in his younger days, but nowadays it only seemed to serve a purpose of longevity; and Harvey Specter is and will always be about surviving: first and foremost.
He walks by his office just to see the weedy Cameron sitting at Donna's desk, a clinical edge to his typing. He spies Harvey and seems to retreat a little. "Uh, Sir, Ms Pearson wants to see you in her office right away."
He says nothing, merely changing his direction and rounding the corner. Jessica is waiting for him; poised on her sofa with that little tea set of hers from the Victorian Era surrounding her.
"Harvey. Sit." She says, gesturing.
"I'd prefer to stand." He replies, shuffling minutely.
He can see by the look on her face that she considers challenging him. He knows that she know better nowadays.
"I heard Donna got out again…" She says, her even tone betraying the edge of condescension.
"It won't happen again." He states, his jaw setting.
The pressure in her voice piques. "I told you that if you decided to turn her there would be consequences; and that you would need to keep a tight lid on it and a leash on her."
"I have. She got out; jumped off the roof apparently…I've fixed it now. She won't do it again. " He puts on his best game face, and hopes that his words are solid enough to convince his own doubts.
"It brings the kind of focus to the firm that I can't very well condone. Harvey, you have to look at the bigger picture here. If you can't control her…"
"She's mine. Got it?" He says, growling heavily. It's the only topic of conversation that brings out the demon in him.
"I'm not saying that she' isn't. But you need to put security on her whilst she's still fresh out of the box. Otherwise, it won't just be her coming back to bite you in the ass, Harvey. This firm is everything. Remember that." Her face softens then; apart from the reprimand, they've all been friends for years, and until the turning, Donna was only ever a hardworking professional asset to the firm. "How is she, generally?" She asks, sipping her tea.
"Impulsive; Headstrong; Vibrant." He says, sighing.
"That sounds like the old Donna to me," She smiles kindly.
"She's also cruel, testing and devious. It's wearing thin." He says; rubbing his hands over his face at the sheer frustration of it all.
"Well, you're just going to have to…suck it up, aren't you?" She quips, the corners of her mouth twitching.
He rolls his eyes at the pun, turning his back.
"You know I had no other choice." He calls back to her.
"I'm aware. Don't lose your head over her, Harvey. You've come too far." There is enough warning in her voice to stack up a Trojan horse worth of warnings.
But he's heard enough of what he already knows for a lifetime.
"Oh and Harvey?" She says, gaining his attention the moment he passes the threshold of her office. It's her habit of controlling at the very point you least expect. "You have a new Associate to hire by the end of the week. Don't forget."
"You realise I'm also the boss here, right?" He points out, his attention waning.
"That may be so, but whilst you're distracted, I'm revoking that privilege… for your own good." She says, an oddly tender execution of her words.
"Wonderful. End of the week?" He subdues the need to growl at her. It would achieve nothing, despite this bad mood he's got going on.
"Get Cameron to help." She notes, pouring another cup.
"I'll do it myself." He counters, subduing another growl.
Note: I love Stephen Dorff in Blade. There's something so elegant and modern about his portrayal of a new vampire. It helped.