An actress, a secretary, a C-O-O, and Donna always come prepared. Not that she isn't capable of spontaneity, but she at least makes sure she's planned for the fallout before the event.
Kissing Harvey isn't prepared. There's no plan for the aftermath.
The rooftop perhaps isn't the best place to collect her thoughts and settle the drum still beating in her chest. But he'd been left standing in her office with her necessities to leave, and all the other options are too close to the tug that may pull her back. They're too accessible to him. She is still working out whether she wants to be accessed by him. Whether or not she hopes he will try to find her.
Somehow in the quick seconds before she thought the bold move would exact clarity. One thing is now clear. Feelings between them had been brewing in a pressure pot for thirteen plus years. Which leaves her with an even murkier understanding of the situation that's them.
The door creaks and bangs closed. She sucks in a breath, gripping her fingers into the wall of the rooftop, trying to ground herself for the words to come.
He stalks toward her, stopping abruptly as if he doesn't trust being too close. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened?"
His tie is askew, his hair messed. He's affected whether by anger or emotion, or just that her hands had invaded the parts that made him appear the most composed.
She doesn't answer at first. She's having a hard enough time deciphering the answer for herself, let alone lend herself to crutch him when their recent distance puts her out of practice.
He sets his jaw and settles a glare at her. "Donna, I deserve an explanation."
She searches the mass of square lights in neighboring offices, wondering if any of the rest are facing moments as big as they are. She frowns but turns because he's never going to let the night rest. "It's something that was long overdue and I needed an answer."
"You want to fill me in on that? Because I just got blindsided."
"It hit me I didn't want to wake up one day and regret never seeing if I felt something with you."
He stalks closer. "Did you somehow forget, I have a girlfriend for godsakes. And you better than anybody know my feelings about… what my mother did."
"I wasn't thinking about her, or even you and that's why I apologized. This was something I needed to find out, for me."
He shoots her a look that's some kind of cross between what the fuck and actual concern for her sanity. He perhaps looks even more appalled because he's selfish and doesn't understand her being first without him. Which should be her clue but she's insufferable when it comes to giving him a break.
"And what do you know now?" He's challenging her, but the break in his voice and the swallow that follow clue her in he's at least somewhat affected. It's clear what he's asking. He's not asking for her, he's asking to help him process his own response.
"No Harvey. You're not going to use me to gauge your own feelings."
"Like you just used me?" His eyes are wide, his temples pulsing. He's panicking. He wants to know that his risk is something that's under his control. And if one thing was clear when he responded back to her, it's that he's not fully under control when it comes to her. But she can see through his entire being he's not ready to admit that tonight, or maybe ever.
She's not sure how she's ended up here, in a place she can't fix or turn back from without being the emotional mastermind and she's so shaken herself she can't pilot the giant ship that's become the two of them.
Setting her shoulders, she blinks back tears, holding her head high to face him. "It hit me tonight, our chance, if we ever had one, was slipping away. I couldn't live without finding out." Her shoulders rise and fall, because despite of telling herself and Mike she is sure, she's opened up a wound she's not sure she can ever heal again. "But maybe that was a mistake."
He falls back, and his lips waver. "Maybe." He sounds unsure because the man can't ever hold on to her, or let her go.
The word scrapes into the damage already done, and she needs space again. She wipes at her face, and forces herself to step away. From him, from the night, and from trying to make love stick from a man that had sent her more signals than currently installed in the entirety of New York city that he'd never have the guts to go all in with her.
If it wasn't so late, she'd want to walk the way home, but instead she boards a cab before she can wonder if Harvey has regrets.
She needs someone. A friend. She's just self-carved the rest of Harvey from inside her and it leaves her raw, empty, and vulnerable in a way she's never felt before.
With shaky hands she texts Rachel.
I kissed him.
Rachel: OMG. Where are you? What happened?
Donna: In a cab, heading home.
Donna: I think I've made a horrible mistake. I know it's late and I don't want to keep you.
Rachel: I'm coming over to spend the night. And I'm NOT taking no for an answer.
She wants to be selfless and argue. She knows Rachel's day was also rough. Instead, she accepts her offer, her limit of arguments for the day maxed.
Donna: I don't know how to thank you except with pricey wine when you arrive.
A gift from Harvey. Her letting go of him has become a habit, but the abundance of his generosity at least makes the emotional burning ritual of him a bit easier to repeat. She's grown more than weary of their symbolized tune though, and tonight she may have permanently scratched the record of Donna-and-Harvey with deeper cuts than his Miles Davis.
As soon as Donna's door opens to Rachel the tears flow. She's been holding them in the whole night and the pressure to spill everything breaks free. Rachel drops her overnight bag and holds her. Rachel is a soft landing, the contrast in PSL's world of hardness.
Guilt washes over Donna because she's the emotional empath, and she knows what it's like to have your stores depleted by someone else, and damned if she ever wants to use Rachel in that way.
But soon the details of the night start to spill.
Donna pours them both copious amounts of wine and sinks into her sofa, leveling. "He kissed back. He wanted me. But I didn't want to chance us going too far before we had time to process. In the end, he still didn't fight for me."
"I still can't believe you did it. How did you leave things?"
"I told him maybe it was a mistake. Maybe this is my final signal he'll never be ready."
Rachel frowned, her shoulders falling as her eyes took time to trace Donna's face. "Remember what you told me with Mike? You said to give him time. Maybe you need to do the same for Harvey?"
"I'm so done with resets."
"I know. But maybe you don't have to reset?"
Rachel hadn't felt the heat between them. She couldn't know how easily he let her slip away, twice, in spite of that heat.
"Don't take this as me trying to change your mind. But you know him. You know his history, and that he's with someone. You said you talked to Mike yesterday, and you had a huge conversation with Louis. Harvey may need a moment to catch up." Rachel's voice was gentle, but prodding.
Donna swallowed back more wine, knowing her best friend's words held truth. "I'm just so exhausted from hurting myself because of loving him."
She hadn't meant to let the words slip. To herself, or especially Rachel. She'd verbally rationalized them away for years but apparently the night wouldn't let her stop making revelations.
It's the second time that night she's made a declaration ending in the other person's mouth hanging open, only Rachel has the sense enough to respond. "I'm so sorry."
They finish off the bottle of wine and curl up in Donna's queen bed together well beyond the midnight hour. Donna fades in and out of sleep in waves until her alarm jolts them awake the next morning.
Thanks so much for reading! That finale has invaded too many of my daily thoughts, so even though I'm sure I'll be so far off the mark, I had to let my imagination free for awhile while we wait. As always, I own nothing.