"Donna, stay."
The ferocity in his tone and his gaze startle her, her feet suddenly feel as heavy as lead, making it impossible for her to take one single step. Not to the elevator, not to him. Not back, not forward.
She was just stuck. Stuck in between her better judgement and the hope, that her better judgement would play tricks on her. Or her heart.
One or the other, one would have to give in. And apparently now she has to decide which one it will be.
Harvey observes her carefully as he waits for her reaction, but at least she doesn't storm out of his apartment as she intended. So far, mission accomplished.
Now it was the time for her to make a move, but for what feels like an eternity, she just stands there, her hazel eyes locked in his, and bit by bit, he runs out of patience with her hesitance, irritated by her incapability to give it a chance, give him a chance.
He was still mad at her about what she said about Scottie, among other things, but enough was enough. If she can't decide, then he would just make the decision for her.
He gets up from the chair, his moves careful and in slow motion, as if she would be a young and scared deer, blinded and paralyzed by the headlights of an approaching car.
He minimizes the distance between them, a hint of turmoil flashing up for a split second behind her reluctant glance as he gets close enough for his nostrils to be tingled by her perfume.
He reaches out his hand, awaiting her smooth and silky skin under the touch of his fingertips as all of a sudden her handbag starts vibrating.
Her eyes widen in surprise, before breaking the contact with his, reaching inside the bag for her cell phone.
"It's Rachel."
Harvey watches as her features fill up with concern, answering the call.
"Hey, Rach, are you ok?"
"Wait, what?"
"Who called you?"
"Who the hell is Clifford Danner?"
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Two weeks ago
"What the fuck? Who was that? Clifford! I'm calling the cops!"
Clifford Danner almost drops the dishes he was carrying back to the kitchen, the last deed before his shift ended. It has been another long and stressful day at the Diner, the only place he could get a job after he was released from prison a while back.
After spending 12 years of his life behind bars for a crime he did not commit, things finally were set right. Unfortunately even though he was innocent, still no one wanted to hire a con man.
But he readjusted. Things were going good.
He met a girl a couple of months ago, Charlize, and she did not mind him working at this place, or his tiny apartment, or that most of the time the only dinner he could offer her was some leftovers from the kitchen.
She worked at this donut shop down the street, and he used to hang around for a coffee and a donut before his shift, basicly just for the sole purpose of watching her and scratching together some courage to ask her for her number.
And then one day, the miracle happened. Along with his bill, she slipped him a note, with the number and a smiley, saying Call me! So he did. Things were good.
But his bosses screaming indicated that this was about to change.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Could I speak with Daniel Hardman please? Tell him it's Cameron Dennis calling. I wait."
Cameron Dennis strikes over his moustache, impatiently nipping on his scotch, while the unnerving being-on-hold music plays out of his phone.
He just got a quite interesting call himself, from one of his former confidants at the D.A.'s office.
He might not work there any more, but after the era of being the District Attorney himself, he still has a few contacts left. And one of them had some interesting news for him.
The annoying music stops abruptly, as Hardman picks up.
"Mr. Dennis, your call is quite a surprise! I surely did not expect it. How can I be of your service?"
"Well, by all means, it is a surprise for me too, but as it came to my attention that you have some unsettled differences with a mutual friend, I just might have something that would help you deal with him."
"I don't know what mutual friend we are talking about Mr. Dennis, but if the matter concerns your former protegé Harvey Specter, I would propose a private meeting."
"I don't think that will be necessary. I just want to inform you that a young man named Clifford Danner was arrested yesterday night for stealing money from the cash register of his workplace, and he would need a good lawyer. So I thought of you. As chance would have it, this young man spend half of his life in prison, falsely accused of murder, and Harvey Specter was the attorney in his case. Apparently some new evidence appeared and the boy was released. But I bet he has one or two things to say about Harvey Specter."
"Yes, this young man surely will need a good lawyer, and I think I can help him. Thank you, Mr. Dennis."
Hanging up, a mischievous smile, half covered by the moustache, distorts Cameron's face. Maybe now Harvey Specter will finally pay for what he did to him. It was about time.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Mr. Tanner! What a lovely coincidence! I didn't expect to meet you here!"
"Cut the bullshit, Hardman. I told you I never want to see your ugly face ever again, so what do you want? You don't seem like the boxing type to me."
And truth be told, Hardman looked really off in his 3 piece suit among the sweaty and muscular clientele of Tanner's boxing studio.
He just finished the 3rd round with his clearly weaker opponent, who was already on the edge of passing out, when Tanner just got warmed up.
He grabs his towel to wipe his face from the sweat burning in his eyes, before getting out of the ring, facing Hardman.
"We need to talk, Mr. Tanner."
"There is nothing to talk about."
"I make it worth your while, trust me Mr. Tanner, you might like to hear it."
"Not here. Give me two minutes."
Tanner goes over to his locker, taking out his hoodie, before heading back to Hardman, ready for whatever this asshole was up to now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Specter."
"After all we've been through, you can call me Harvey."
Clifford takes a sip from the coffee in front of him, his eyes shift through the little 24 hour open café, almost empty at this time of night, just a couple of people in garbage man uniforms sitting in the back, apparently enjoying their early breakfast before work.
"So, Clifford, can I call you Cliff?"
"What? Sure, whatever."
The sugar he pours into his coffee gets absorbed by the bitter brew, before he takes another sip.
"Okay, Cliff. Tell me what happened."
"I- I fucked up man."
"You fucked up how? Just tell me from the beginning."
Harvey tries to stay calm and not rush things, his tone patient and soft, aware that if he would pressure him too much he would close up like an oyster.
"Someone stole money from the place I was working at, and of course they accused me first thing, as I'm an ex-con, right? So police came and shit, I was put into custody, and I was already thinking I'm totally fucked, right? Who believes an ex-con, right? And then out of fucking nowhere, this lawyer appears, promising he would get me out of this, and he would do it for free, pro bono he said, if I would accept his offer. So I said, sure, of course, what the fuck, right? These public defenders aren't worth shit, they don't give a fuck about you, if you're innocent or not. And I know first hand, as you might remember. So, I'm thinking, this shit is great, especially as he mentions you, being an old friend and all. I'm thinking, Jackpot, you sent someone to help me out, right? To pay your debt. So, I'm like, sure man, be my lawyer. And then the real fun began."
Clifford looks down, seemingly observing the black substance in the cup, holding it in between both hands, warming his ice cold fingers. After a deep sigh, Clifford decides to continue.
"So, he is my lawyer, right? And then, out of fucking nowhere, he starts talking bullshit. Like, if I don't tell him anything about you, how you fucked up my case or held back evidence or shit, he will make sure I go to prison for 10 years for stealing that money. And I didn't even take it! So I'm like, dude, I don't know shit, what the fuck, right? And he says, ok, fine, think about it, I will come back. And then he doesn't show up for several days man, and then this other motherfucker shows up in my cell, this huge bad bass aryan brotherhood dude, swastika tattoo on his chest and shit, saying he will kill me like the pig that I am first thing after my hearing, and that I better should come up with something to tell my lawyer. So I just panicked, ok man? I fucked up."
Clifford lets go of the cup and rubs his forehead, as if he was trying to erase the memory.
"I understand. What did you tell him?"
"I told him about Mike Ross being a fraud. I - he told me that, and I didn't mean to rat him out, but I was scared man, and it was the only thing I knew that would probably make this asshole back the fuck off. So I told him. And next thing I know, I'm released from custody, and a big check waits for me in my mailbox. 5000 $ man. In my name! But then I told my girlfriend, and she talked some sense into me, and then I tried to call Mike, to warn him and shit, but his girlfriend picked up, and now, we're here."
"What was the lawyer's name?"
Harvey's blood vessels almost explode as he hears the word "Hardman."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"So, this Clifford Danner is the one? But what now, Harvey? Hardman knows, the D.A. is investigating, it doesn't go away just like that!"
Donna, accompanied by Rachel, resides on the couch, both equipped with a glass of Chianti, her eyes following Harvey's agitated pacing in front of them, just interrupted by the frequent reach for his scotch glass placed on the couch table.
"I convinced Danner to file a blackmailing suit against Hardman. So far, it's his word against Hardman's, but either way, he will claim he only made the accusations against Mike up, so we need to make this whole shit bulletproof. I already called Lola, she will do her part, the only weak spot is the Harvard file room. We can't just go in there and put Mike's file where it's supposed to be."
"No, we can't, but someone can."
Harvey's going up eyebrows manifest his disbelief about Donna's announcement, his tone filled with doubt.
"What are you talking about, Donna? Who outside Harvard could pull this off?"
Donna takes a sip from the Chianti, before she answers his question with utter conviction.
"Louis."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Louis, sound asleep in his bed, is brutally ripped out of his current dream, which involved some unpleasant fight with his sister, and god knows why, also a banana played an outstanding role in it.
Anyway, the vehement ringing of his cell phone interrupted this very bizarre product of his subconsciousness, and puzzled him, wondering who might be calling at this godforsaken hour.
He focuses his eyes on the caller i.d., and huffs angrily before answering the call.
"Donna, dear god! It's four in the morning!"
Donna, nonchalant as ever and not even slightly impressed by his harsh tone, replies instantly.
"You can just call me Donna, Louis, that will suffice."
Louis tries to roll out of the bed for a more upward position, but the satin bed sheets wrapped around his legs hinder his attempt, which results in a fierce struggle for half a minute, before Louis has to accept his devastating defeat.
"Louis? Are you having another heart attack? You sound like you are fighting with a lion, or with a coronary disease, and both versions deeply concern me."
"What? No, I'm not fighting a lion, Jesus, Donna, you... you... Mmh... Are you gonna tell me you will not come to the office today? Because Jessica said..."
"Louis, I need you to do something, and you will not like it."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Louis, what the hell are you doing here? It's 7 in the morning, I need to go to work!"
"Hello Sheila. Nice to see you too. Can I come in?"
Sheila Sass, only wearing her bathrobe, opens the door wide enough for Louis to slip through, followed by a deep sigh, before slamming the door shut, her glance infuriated.
"Louis, please, I think I made myself clear enough last time, this will not work. I'm sorry, but you better go."
"It's not about that. It's complicated."
"What's complicated? Louis, I really don't have the time, I still have to take a shower and..."
"Remember the time I was in the Harvard file room? We had candles, and made sweet sweet love..."
"Yes, that was nice, but it doesn't change anything, Louis, what..."
"I did something, Sheila."
Louis clears his throat, feeling like a lump was stuck in between his vocal chords. God, what was he about to do?
"What do you mean you did something?"
"I might have stolen a file."
"WHAT?"
Sheila's eyes darken up, her voice shrill.
Louis swallows his integrity, knowing that after his made up confession, there would be no hope for him and Sheila anymore, but as there probably was none in the first place, but still hope for Mike, he would at least put all his theatrical capacities into this scene.
"I just wanted to check the file of this one associate, Mike Ross, and then I heard you come back, and I didn't had the time to return the file to its rightful place, so I just hid it in my briefcase, and I thought we would surely repeat this memorable night and I would have the opportunity to undo what I did, but we broke up and now, I still have the file, and someone made accusations about Mike Ross, so the D.A. will start to dig, and maybe subpoena the file, and you will get in trouble and lose your job because you let someone unauthorized into the file room. And I don't want you to pay for my wrongdoing, Sheila, I still really care about you!"
Sheila's face reaches a dark red colour, her fuming stare piercing him through to the bone.
"What the fuck, Louis? How could you do this? I trusted you! You pig!"
She comes at him like a fury, her nails, fists and knees the weapons of choice, leading to his defeat.
After another blow to his crown jewels, he manages to stutter some understandable words, before a second kick leaves him breathless again.
"I'm sorry, Sheila, I - I have the file right here, j - just put it back and no one has to know, please! I don't want you to lose your job and credibility because I made a mistake and broke your trust!"
"No, I surely won't! Give it to me and get the hell out of here, you monster!"
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As the elevator doors open, Harvey steps out and marches through the hallways of Pearson Specter Litt, as a quick check over his shoulder confirms. His name was still on the wall.
They did not make it official yet, so it was only consequential no one removed his name so far.
Still, it leaves a sting on his heart, seeing his name up there.
After a decade of working here, his final goal reached by becoming named partner, he had to give it all up, leaving the place where he felt home for the first time since he found out about his mother's affairs, robbing him of the safe haven he used to call home before.
But what's done is done, and he has some unfinished business ahead.
He reaches Jessica's office, a little bit nervous she would just send him to hell with his request, which would be indeed extremely counterproductive, as she was an essential part of his plan.
He enters her office without knocking, her head rises up in an instant from the file she was studying, astounded by the sudden and unwelcome breach of her area.
"Jessica."
She can't quite suppress the surprise that distorts her features, but her voice keeps steady and cool.
"Harvey, I did not expect you here. Especially not at this early hour."
"We have to talk."
She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, fixating his eyes with hers.
"I was assuming that. So, Harvey, I suppose you wouldn't be here if you wouldn't have a solution for the Mike Ross situation. Let's hear it then."
A smirk flashes over his face, as apparently she was not about to kick him out of her office just yet.
"First I need you to do something for me. And Mike."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Donna takes her place behind her desk, shaking her head in astonishment as of how much work could pile up in just one day of her absence.
After the sleepless night, and the almost sleepless night before, she didn't look her best, but after the extensive use of concealer and a little bit more blush than usual, she at least looked presentable.
Last night has been a long night, with Harvey coming and going, while her and Rachel did their part in the scheme.
Around 5 o'clock Rachel fell asleep on the couch, or more like passed out, while Donna handed Louis the forged documents for Mike's file that he should plant in Sheila Sass' sacred documents room.
Even Professor Gerard did his part after a call from Harvey, faxing them a handwritten copy of an evaluation he supposedly did on one of Mike's essays for his class.
The end result would withstand a critical look, Lola made sure of that.
If only Louis would not sabotage their entire strategy.
Speaking of the devil, or better to say, Louis, who just showed up around the corner, approaching his office.
He looks deranged, his face covered by some deep scratch marks.
"Jesus Christ, Louis, what happened to your face? Did you get a new cat? Or was I correct in my assumption about the lion fight?"
"What? Oh, that. That was Sheila. She, mmh, how can I put this? She didn't take it so well."
"A lion indeed." Donna mumbles, as he maneuvers himself around her desk and into his office, Donna following him and closing the door behind her, wired up and impatiently awaiting the circumstantial narration about the outcome of his mission.
"But will she plant the file? Did it work?"
"Yes, Donna, it worked." Louis sighs, his face turns bitter for a moment.
"And Mike owes me big time, and you, and Harvey, and Rachel. I expect at least first row for the entire upcoming ballet season! And maybe some Broadway shows. And, I don't know yet. As I said, you all owe me. Big time."
"You'll come up with something, I have no doubt, Louis. And everyone will be happy to fulfill your every request."
Relief is overcoming her like a warm wave, as of this moment she would even agree to go to another mud bath with Louis, grateful for his sacrifice.
Louis carefully sits down behind his desk, as apparently his face was not the only thing that suffered from Sheila's anger.
Donna makes a mental note to get some ice, already headed to the door, as Louis interrupts her pace.
"So Harvey took care of the rest?"
"Lets hope so. He's at the D.A.'s office right now, clearing things up about Clifford Danner and Mike. If all works out, Mike should be out in no time."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Mike Ross, you have a visitor!"
The brusque voice of the stocky guard, the one who also was responsible for bringing meals, shakes Mike out of the catatonic state he was in since he called Rachel yesterday.
He didn't touch any those meals, or made any attempt to look alive.
He even overheard the guards consulting with each other, whether to inform a psychiatrist before he would attempt suicide on their watch.
Which apparently already happened not so long ago with the outcome that a guard named Dave was fired and lost his pension fund. As no one wanted to follow Dave's footsteps, they decided to remove all sharp objects from Mike's reach, resulting in serving his meals as sandwiches and passing by his cell quite more frequently than they did with the others.
So Mike wasn't surprised as the guard was once again checking his cell, but he was definitely surprised by what he just heard.
"Who? I said I don't want to see anybody."
The guard, clearly alleviated as his prisoner finally showed some response, bestows Mike with a leer grin as he answers.
"Some sharp looking lady claiming to be your lawyer. Get your ass over there. I don't have all day."
He opens the cell, navigating Mike through the hallway, his hand in a tight grip around Mike's arm. They come to a halt in front of the very same interrogation room Mike has been before when they first brought him in.
The door squeaks again, as the guard opens and closes it behind his back, leaving Mike and his visitor alone.
"Jessica."
"Mike."
Jessica gets up from the only chair in the room, her path directed towards the astounded Mike, her motions smooth and controlled, her high heels clacking with every step, echoing in an unnaturally loud manner in the small room.
Mike swallows hard to find back his voice, still stunned by her appearance.
"What are you doing here?"
Jessica closes the distance between them, aligning her lips with his ear, her voice muted, but far too firm to be just a whisper.
"Listen to me, white boy, and listen carefully. Five minutes from now, you will say that you changed your mind about representing yourself, and that I am your lawyer now and that you would like to have a talk with me, client confidentiality included. That is what's going to happen, and I don't want to hear another word coming out of your mouth except I want to see my lawyer. I hope I made myself clear. So, see you in five minutes, Mr. Ross."
She takes a step away from him, giving him a strict look, before reaching for the doorknob, attempting to leave.
"Jessica, what..."
"What did I just say? Not. Another. Word."
She leaves the room without another comment, expecting her instructions to be followed as she was used to. Exactly five minutes later, just as the guard is about to propose to guide her out of the building, she hears the knocking. Mike Ross was demanding his new lawyer.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After a lecture about civil rights and the threat of suing the shit out of every person who dares to deny them a room without a one-way mirror, Jessica managed to get them exactly that.
Even smaller than the one before, but at least equipped with two chairs, the both of them now only surrounded by the grey walls and protected by the lawyer/client confidentiality, Mike starts to vent off his anger and confusion as soon as the door closes.
"Jessica, I don't understand. I don't want a lawyer, I don't..."
She stops his tantrum with the simple gesture of rising up her hand and shaking her head.
"Shut up and listen. If you go down, everybody goes down. Me, Harvey, Louis, Rachel, and the firm. And all the people whose cases you worked on, go down with you too. You think you can avoid that, but let me tell you, the D.A. is like a shark that smelled blood, and he won't stop by just biting off a finger. He will bite off the entire arm. I can't let this happen, and neither can you. Harvey pulled some shady tricks out of his sleeve, and I prefer not to know what he did, but he is close to make this whole affair go away. So, I need you to trust me and Harvey. I understand you want to redeem yourself, and I really don't care what you will do after this is over, you can wipe floors as a janitor for all I care, but you can't plead guilty. Or this won't stop until every single person you ever dealt with will be destroyed. Along with you."
"But..."
"No, Mike, there is no but! This is what will happen, if you continue with this your way! You won't be able to let everybody else off the hook if you don't fight! And we can fight this. It is almost over. Even if something goes wrong now, we are equipped with enough ammunition to pass with reasonable doubt in court. Maybe even with lack of evidence, if it gets rough. But either way, everything will go to shit, if you plead guilty. So, this is exactly what you will not do. What you will do, is exactly what you are told from now on. Wrap your head around it, boy, I have to set up a bail application hearing for you while Harvey convinces the D.A. for the charges to be dropped as the only testimony is inemissible in court. Enjoy your last day behind bars, and dear god, Mike, just eat something before the guards call a counsellor. They already bothered me with your mental state and honestly, you do look like shit. So do me a favour and try to look presentable for your hearing. We don't want the judge to deny bail just because you look like a follower of the heroin chic."
"Jessica, I..."
"Whatever you got to say, you can say later. But I personally would suggest a sentence that starts with a thank you."
An indulgent smile is playing with the corners of her lips as Jessica exits the room, leaving the perplexed Mike to digest the turn of events by himself, that against all odds played out in his favour.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Donna was afraid to leave her desk, just in case Harvey would call.
The whole morning she spend sitting on pins and needles, waiting to hear from him.
Jessica wasn't back yet either, and Donna really was not accustomed to be left in the dark.
Rachel walked by her desk every three minutes, until Louis had enough and ordered her to check some files for his newest case, the both of them now working side by side in his office, Rachel still lifting her head and throwing Donna a questioning look from time to time.
Maybe every five minutes now, which was an immense improvement.
As the phone finally rings, showing Harvey's number on the display, Donna jumps up in her chair, almost dropping the phone as she picks it up in a hurry.
"Donna, where is Louis? Nevermind, I don't need Louis, just please confirm that he was able to plant the file!"
"Yes, Harvey, he planted the file. I suppose this means the D.A. took the bait?"
"Yes he did, under one condition, and that was lack of evidence. So let's just hope it all looks legit, because if it doesn't, we are all basically fucked."
"You owe Louis a mud bath and a ballet visit, I hope you are aware of that? Sheila really wasn't happy and left some evidence of that all over Louis' face. And on some other, more private parts."
"I guess I will get the chance to see it for myself."
Donna, irritated by the voice not coming out of the phone but located somewhere behind her, turns around, just to face Harvey, the cell phone in his hand, ending the call, a bright smirk emerging on his face as he caught her by surprise and completely off guard.
"Jesus, Harvey, how cheap was that? The oldest trick in the book? I was expecting more of you, I really did. You disappoint me. Really disappoint me, Harvey."
Her ironic tone and her grin though prove her words wrong, along with the sassy sparkle in her eyes.
"Did you hear from Jessica? We must tell Rachel the good news too!"
"Not yet. But I'm sure Mike gave in. I mean, who can withstand Jessica's authority, right? Except me of course."
"Yes, except you, of course."
The sarcastic intonation of the last part doesn't go unnoticed by Harvey, but he decides to let her pass with it, just this time.
"So what now, Harvey?"
"Now, we wait and see how the plan unfolds. If we push too hard it will look suspicious. I bet Jessica already filed a bail hearing by now, and if that goes as I expect it to go, then Mike might be out by tomorrow. For now."
"The file looked legit, Harvey. It should withstand the investigation."
"I must admit, Lola did an amazing job. But I'm not used to play the odds, I play the man. And now I'm breaking my own rule. Playing the odds is just..."
"Risky, with uncertain outcome."
Donna's eyes narrow as she completes his sentence, as it strikes a sensitive nerve of her own dilemma of a more private nature.
"Exactly. But well, some things are worth the risk."
Donna looks up to him, his face serious, and she wasn't quite sure if they were still talking about Mike's case, his severe and incisive glance asserting her suspicion.
She breaks the eye contact, as the sudden confrontation with the subtext of her hesitation lingering in his words makes her doubt her well fabricated reasons, when she notices Jessica passing by at the other end of the hallway.
"Harvey."
Donna's alarming tone makes Harvey turn around and meet Jessica's gaze.
Jessica slows down her pace, before she just almost unnoticeably nods, raising her eyebrows in anticipation for a confirmation as Harvey answers with a nod as well. With a slightly amused smile as a direct response to that, she continues her path to her office, and out of sight.
"OK, now you can tell Rachel."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harvey pushes the elevator button, and both their eyes flash over his name in Pearson Specter Litt.
"So, I guess this is it."
"Your name is still on the wall."
"It would have never been there without you, Donna."
The torment over the end of more than a decade working with him infests her like an ulcer, when the realization that it is a real end this time hits her with the force of a bullet of a heavy-caliber gun, shot from a short range straight to the chest.
Even in the past 3 months, after she started working for Louis, it never felt like he wasn't part of her daily life.
The ties that bond them over the years were always more profound and far beyond a simple work relation and the thought of never seeing him march through the hallways of the firm ever again almost tears her up.
The elevator doors slide open, and with one last smirk, the one reserved just for her, he enters the cabin.
Her heart is about to burst, but she can't find the right words, only able to whisper one single word, yet still disclosing it all.
"Harvey."
Harvey senses her desolation, perceiving the slight hints of tears accumulating in the corners of her hazel eyes. Now indeed was the time, the last time, for her to decide.
"You know, it just occurred to me, that you and I are not working together any more."
The doors close, shutting out his provocative grin, leaving Donna behind, her lips parting to slip a surprised "Oh."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harvey is about to exit the building, as his cell phone vibrates, showing a new message on his voicemail.
That was quick, he thinks, turning around to the elevators, expecting to see Donna appear out of one of them.
He was certain that she got the implication behind his words, and now it is her turn. He made his move, calculating the risk of her not taking it so well, but he was pretty damn sure that in the last two days he displayed his intentions very clear.
Even a monkey would get it right, and as she was Donna, she had it figured out within a nanosecond.
Or so he assumed.
But since he was watching the people come and go in and out of the elevators, and Donna wasn't one of them, for the past ten minutes or so, he checks his voicemail.
He wrinkles his forehead as he hears Tanner's voice.
"Hello, Reginald, long time no see. We should catch up, we have a lot to talk about, trust me. Maybe this afternoon? Let's say 4 o'clock at Barney's? I expect to see your ass there on time, otherwise you will regret it, and your little friend Mike will regret it even more. And please do me a favour and don't wear one of your poofy suits, just something casual. We don't want to drag more attention to our little rendezvous than necessary. See you later, Reggie!"
The message ends with a beep, leaving behind a baffled Harvey.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Tanner."
"Reginald."
Harvey throws a vicious look at his counterpart, who placed himself on the opposite side of the table, leaned back and legs crossed, a half empty beer bottle standing in front of him.
"So, why don't you tell me what the fuck you want, as this cryptic message you left on my mailbox does not justify why I should be regarding your smug face for more than a minute. So you better hurry or I might be intrigued to wipe that arrogant grin of yours out of it."
"Ah, Reginald, as aggressive as ever. So refreshing indeed. But well, as I'm not willing to look at YOUR smug face longer than I have to, let's cut the foreplay and come to the real deal. I have something for you, a little gift so to speak. I know, it's a bit early for christmas presents, but anyway, I think you will like that one."
Tanner takes out a dictaphone out of his pocket and slides it over the table to Harvey.
"What the fuck is that? Some sex tape? I might have nice hair but trust me, I'm not interested in hearing your moaning while you get your balls caressed, sorry."
"It's better than that. Just listen to it. Our dear friend Daniel Hardman payed me a visit a couple of weeks ago, and as this son of a bitch already tried to screw me over once, I had a little idea. I recorded our conversation before I told him to go fuck himself. Basically he tried to convince me to do his dirty work for him, but he explained his plans in every single detail before I cut him off. I thought it might come in handy for your blackmail case against him. Have fun with it and don't get a hard on just yet."
Tanner gets up from the table in the marginally derelicted bar where he set up their meeting, empty at this early afternoon, with only the bartender present, polishing some dull as obviously heavily used highball glasses, pretending to be working.
"Why are you doing this?"
Harvey interrupts Tanner on his way out, a mischievous smile appears on his face as he turns back around, answering the question.
"Oh, you know, it's nothing personal. I'm not doing this as a favour to you or Mickey boy. It's just, well, how can I put it, I want to see Hardman go down. And I just happened to have the weapon that will bring this asshole down for good. Knock yourself out, Reggie, and give me a call when I have to testify. I'll gladly do my part in destroying this motherfucker. Hasta la vista, baby!"
Tanner opens the door to the outside, the daylight finding its way through the crack, illuminating the gloomy bar in all its shady glory for a moment, before the door shuts close after him.
Harvey takes the dictaphone, waving for the bartender to order a double scotch and buy some privacy with a 50$ tip, before he lets the tape play.
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Harvey refills his glass, already for the third or fourth time. Might be the fifth. He stopped counting. The scotch leaves a bitter note on his tongue, although it is his beloved Macallan 18.
Even though the D.A. responded very enthusiastic to the recording of Hardman's criminal scheme, backing up the blackmail suit Harvey already filed, setting a date to bring in Hardman for an interrogation and promising to look into dropping the charges against Mike as they now evidently had no basis, Harvey was not feeling like a winner.
It was past midnight by now, and she didn't call.
Apparently she made up her mind, except she didn't come to the conclusion he hoped for, as it was the wrong one.
Standing on his terrace, the cold wind leaving a burning sensation on his cheeks, his eyes wander over the skyline, yet blind for the magnificent view, as he tries to figure out a way how on earth he possibly could forget about her. And he has to.
She moved forward, away from him, and even if she did not end up with Mitch, then she would eventually end up in the arms of another douchebag. But most definitely not in his.
She once said she has to live her life, and that's exactly what she was doing. He couldn't blame her for that, as he was doing the same all these years. Or at least he used to think he did.
Now, he was not so sure any more.
All the women, all the affairs, even the quite serious relationships he got involved in, meant less to him than having Donna by his side, even if just as his companion.
She was the most important person in his life, and despite it all, even despite her turn down, despite the chance she would not reciprocate his immersive feelings for her, he was not willing to give up on her just yet.
After another sip from his half empty glass, which he planned to refill once more, he takes out his cell phone, ready to contact Ray, so he would drop him off at her place for the ultimate showdown, ending their story one way or another, although he would prefer it wouldn't end at all, but finally start.
His thumb hovers over the display as he detects a movement behind him.
The tumbler almost slips out of his hand as he abruptly spins around, his eyes widened in dismay as he sees Donna behind the glass.
She enters the terrace, her eager eyes searching his, her features expressing her perseverance.
She wraps her green coat tighter around her body as the first ice cold blow of the wind hits her.
Harvey opens his mouth to mumble "Donna" but she preempts him.
"That didn't just occur to you."
She makes a step towards him, her auburn hair gets rumpled by the breeze, while Harvey tries to digest her words, and what they implied.
"No, it didn't."
The three seconds he needs for those five steps to close the space between them extend into an entire lifetime, his lifetime to be exact.
All those years, she was by his side, but he was too reluctant to admit his feelings, to her, or to himself.
He couldn't be himself without her, and the safest strategy to accomplish that, to make her stay, was to hire her as his secretary. But she still left, as obviously it might have been the safest way, but not the right one.
And she was right. As usual. And he would guarantee that she would not leave him once more by doing what he should have done the other time.
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Donna went home right after work, just for the first thing for her to see being the completely withered flower bouquet from Mitch residing on the table. The flowers didn't make it, and neither did he.
She throws them straight into the garbage, without any sentiment, before she opens the fridge, inspecting its content.
She didn't go shopping for quite a while, so the only eatable thing inside the fridge was some cheese, and a bottle of white wine. She chooses the wine, as the cheese already looks suspicious, and decides to just order in later.
Rachel went home too, as Jessica informed her about the bail hearing being set for tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock, and if everything would go as planned, Mike would return home as well right after it.
Louis melted eight packs of ice during the day, with the result that she teased him by calling him iceman after the 3rd one.
He wasn't very pleased by that, but she needed something to distract her from, well, what? Harvey's last words?
Besides, everyone's mood was curbed up by the good news regarding Mike, no one perceived her nervousness and too loud laughter as something else.
Also, she was quite an actress. She played her role so perfectly, she almost misguided herself. Almost.
Now, after the second glass of wine on an empty stomach, she is ready for facing the truth.
Harvey made an ultimatum. She was aware of that. And whether she was in on it or not, the time window for her decision was limited. Still, she was not certain of what her response should be.
She was just not sure. Not of his feelings for her, not of her feelings for him.
Yes, he told her he loves her, and now, apparently, he would also contemplate a more physical, not to say, romantic endeavour.
But she was not quite familiar with his intentions to let this thing between them progress. And the thought that if she would, in the end, she would end up heartbroken, because she misinterpreted his intentions in the first place, was still oppressing her.
She might be Donna, and she could read Harvey, and just for the sake of being thorough, everyone else too, but when it came to the susceptible entanglement between him and her, she was just clueless, like every other woman on this planet.
It was her weak spot, and she did not have many of those.
But he was her weak spot for a reason.
Drowning the third glass, to manifest this specific thought, she gets up, approaching her wardrobe to exchange her sweatpants for a jeans, and her t-shirt for a low-cut beige cashmere pullover. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that she looked like shit, but within 2 minutes she remedied the damage.
Equipped with some light brown boots and a green coat, she leaves her apartment.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seven taxis drove by Donna's waving arm, before she could actually get one to stop, providing the ride to Harvey's apartment.
Two blocks away from his place, she gets cold feet, not literally but metaphorically, as the previous doubts crash through her conscience like bricks through glass.
She instructs the driver to stop in front of a bar they just were about to pass by, getting out of the cab and into the crowded bar.
She has difficulties to find a non occupied seat, the place bursting with people, filled with loud laughter and by this time of night, most of them drunk, or on the edge of it.
It was exactly what she needed right now.
Finally she spots an empty seat, squeezing herself in between a group of heavy make-uped young girls in very short skirts and very high heels, drowning tequila shots like lemonade, and if she had to guess she would say the oldest one was 22.
She orders a margarita, and while the salt crystals merge with the strong drink on her tongue, she has to ask herself what the hell she was even doing here.
Things could have went a different path after he said those exact same words on her porch all those years ago. If he wouldn't have fucked it all up just two days later.
Maybe, just maybe, there could have been a future for the two of them, back then.
And maybe, if things would have gone their way, they would live in the suburbs by now, or in one of those huge city apartments, with one or two, and maybe even three little ones running around, painting doodles on the overpriced wallpaper, and smearing tomato sauce on the white designer carpets.
Years have passed since this moment in time where their story could have made a u-turn. But it didn't.
She takes another sip from her margarita, as she notices a handsome middle-aged man beside her, his demeanor flirtatious, his bright smile, crowned with very white teeth, directed towards her.
"May I buy the next drink for the lady?"
Is this how she wanted her life to continue? Dating men, for whom she just had lukewarm feelings at best?
Men, who were charming, and good looking, and nice, but it was this one tiny thing they were not.
They were not Harvey.
And maybe this time, their story would go the right way.
"No thank you, I was just about to leave."
Donna empties her drink, searching her handbag for the purse, as she sees Harvey's key card in a side pocket.
She maneuvers herself through the crowd to the exit, the cold fresh air a blessing after the steamy bar.
Instead of taking a cab, she decides to walk the distance to Harvey's place, giving her the opportunity to put her thoughts in order, before facing him.
Even if it wouldn't end well, she owed it to herself to give it a try.
Otherwise, there was no moving forward.
With or without him, he would haunt her heart for the rest of her life, and if now there was at least a small chance for them, she had to take it.
Irreparable damage included.
His apartment building shows up in front of her, and while her heart increases its frequency, her pace slows down.
She looks up to the 16th floor, the lights are dimmed, but still on. The wind tangles the loose strands of hair into her eyes, covering her sight.
Pulling out the key card out of her bag, she takes a deep breath, the cool air burning in her lungs, while she navigates her steps towards the entrance.
Stepping out of the elevator, she can't detect Harvey at first, as she was expecting him to be warned by the buzzing of the elevator engine. As apparently this was not the case, she continues her path through his loft, but he also wasn't in the living room. When she finally locates him outside on the terrace, through the glassed windows his silhouette being more an insinuation than a shadow against the opaque sky, she hesitates for a second.
The resoluteness she felt just moments ago deviates and makes room for the tension to take over.
In the corner of her eyes she spots the scotch bottle placed on the kitchen counter, and she takes a big sip straight out of it, trying to prevent herself from just turning around and leave. But not this time. Not like he did.
She is about to step outside, as she sees him turn around to her.
The wind up here was much more intense than down on the street, and she pulls her coat closer around her body as neither the thin pullover nor the light material of the coat protected her from the freezing breeze.
She notices his astonished gaze, his lips forming to pronounce her name, and she knows, she has to speak now or never.
"That didn't just occur to you."
This fucking wind blows her hair into her eyes again, covering her view, and she can't tell how he reacted on this repetition of this dance they had so many years ago.
She makes a step towards him, hopefully getting out the breeze by doing so. Instead, it just gets worse.
But either way, he replies, performing the next move in their tango.
"No, it didn't."
Finally the direction of the wind changes, and she seeks his eyes, answering all her questions and erasing all the doubts she still had at that point.
He was the man for her, always had been, and, always will be. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she was here now, facing the truth. It was a goddamn long way though that lead them right where they both belonged.
He makes a step towards her, then another, their eyes intertwined, the suspense and the butterflies in her stomach almost killing her. She has been with him before, but this was different. It was more. And they both knew it.
Her lips part for a sharp inhale as he closes in, leaving merely an inch between them.
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Harvey's heart palpitates as he closes the last few inches between them, his hand reaching out to strike back her hair before he lets his fingers slide into the red locks, pulling her closer.
The velvet texture of her skin under his fingertips provokes his body to tense up from the electrifying sensation, and in a flash of an all consuming epiphany he realizes that his fate was sealed the moment he met her, all those years ago.
The regret of the time he wasted, depriving them both of something so much more than what they had beforehand, washes over him, as he searches her brown eyes, sensing the same devotion behind them as he has for her.
He can almost taste her as her breath merges with his own, her lips slightly parting, promising the land of milk and honey behind those rose coloured gates.
His eyes wander off to her lips, before he closes them, wallowing in the bitter sweet and almost lethal tension building up in him, the irrefutable contingence being just millimeters and seconds away.
He can feel her arms wandering into his open jacket, the touch of her hands still cold even against his shirt covered skin, her fingertips striking him in an almost meticulous manner, as if she would take her time to absorb every inch of his body before she tightens her grip around his back, pressing his body firmly against her own, and in this last second before his lips finally collide with hers, he mumbles
"I should have fired you years ago."
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Epilogue
3 months later
"Oh please, Harvey, don't be such a pussy! It's my wedding day! Drink, flirt, dance for gods sake! I know you were not born with two left feet! Come on!"
Mike tries to animate Harvey to join him on the dancefloor, where Louis was about to perform some crucial mixture of jazz dance and hip hop. It most definitely looked far too fascinating to avert one's eye, and Harvey was already close to record it on video with his phone to have proof of this exceptional occurrence. It was like watching a solstice, just much more fun.
"You go ahead, I would rather get another drink first and join in later. Besides, I think I should tape Louis, don't you think? If I would have known about his stage art performance, I would have made sure he would be on the guest list to some of my parties as well."
Rachel, looking absolutely enchanting in her strapless Valentino wedding gown, appears from behind,and grabs Mike's hand with the intention to pull him back to the dancefloor.
"Oh Jesus, Mike, come on, you can't leave me there alone with Louis, I think he made a move on me already! I will surely not dance a third time with this released kraken on my wedding day!"
Both break out in laughter, and Mike's face reddens up a notch more, already being pinkish before due to the vast amount of already consumed champagne and his previous dancing attempts.
While Mike returns to the dancefloor, more or less basically being dragged there by Rachel, he replicates the scene from The Fockers, pointing two fingers to his eyes, before pointing one finger at Harvey, whispering "I see you."
Harvey just rolls his eyes in response, replying "I'm surely not Gaylord in this scenario!" as someone taps his elbow.
"Hey there, handsome. I got you another drink. I thought you might need it before you hit the floor. And yes, you are Gaylord Focker in this scenario, I mean, Jesus Harvey, how much hair wax can a human being possibly put in his hair? Or are you going for an impersonation of Grease?"
"Yeah, right, flower girl, what kind of flower is this even suppose to be? You look like you catched Rachel's wedding bouquet with your head instead of your hands."
"For your information, that's a violet orchid, you botanic degenerate, and as you might remember, I did indeed catch the wedding bouquet, but with my hands."
"Yeah, the others had no chance. You were at least two inches above the rest of the candidates."
"I didn't put on those monstrous high heels without a purpose."
"Either way, I must say you look stunning. Even despite this flower thing in your hair."
Donna smiles, fumbling around the orchid affixed in her complex hair arrangement, her elaborate Vera Wang dress matching the dark and rich violet colour perfectly.
"Thank you, but I think I heard you mention that already, like once or twice, or more like seven times throughout the day."
She hands him over a glass of champagne, before tipping it with her own.
Harvey's sceptical look inspecting the glass doesn't go unnoticed by her, forcing up an explanation.
"It's a wedding! The time for scotch is later. Dear god, Harvey! Just drink it up!"
Harvey nips on the Crystal, a deep sigh arising out of his chest.
"You're such a pussy, Specter. Next time, I'll bring you an appletini instead."
Her eyes wander over the festive decorated Terrace Room of the Plaza, and she giggles as she sees another spectacular move of Louis.
Harvey watches her from the periphery of his gaze, contemplating to bend their contentious issue to his favour once and for all. They had this discussion before, and so far, she always won.
"So, do we tell them?"
"What, now? No, it's their big day. We won't steal the show."
Donna takes a sip from her champagne, as she hears him sigh again, this time more loudly and with hints of annoyance and frustration.
"Harvey..."
"Then how about a dance? You, me, and apparently The Temptations. That must have been Rachel's choice, but I surely appreciate it. Everything is better than another Bruno Mars song."
"That was Louis. I saw him bribe the DJ."
"So, you're in or not? Or do I have to ask Louis for a dance?"
"Don't kid yourself, Louis would dance you into the ground, especially to 'Locked out of heaven'. "
"I beg to differ."
Harvey takes Donna's hand, their fingers intertwine while he guides her to the dancefloor, his thumb brushes over the back of her hand, provoking a conspiratorial smile playing around the corners of her lips, while the melody of 'My girl' fills the atmosphere.
THE END
Dear readers, I just want to thank all of you for reading my stories to this point, the end of the trilogy starting with Ties, Ricochet and now finishing with Odds.
I hope you enjoyed it, had some fun, and it filled the blank space before the next Suits episode in January a tiny bit.
I never asked for reviews to this point, but as this is the END, please review all of "my" episodes to your liking.
I really enjoyed writing this, as it was my very first time writing anything, so I sincerely pray to all gods and demons you enjoyed it too.
Big thanks to all of you who read and liked my stories!
Kisses*polymorphine