Oh dear god, long time no see, I know, but the last episode totally had me swooning over Harvey and Donna again, and believe me, it's not an everyday occurrence for me. I don't "swoon" ;) Anyway, I thought how Harvey and Donna could start a relationship, and how they could adapt into their new roles, and this is, hopefully, gonna answer that question. This won't be a monstrous novel, and I aim to finish it very shortly, hopefully. Then who knows, I can even restart updating The Client, I've been working on that, too.
Okay, without further yammering...
Oh, no beta, and I didn't proofread, either, sorry. Just wanted to post it. I will give it a look tomorrow, but if you spot anything, please let me know.
Point of No Return
Chapter One
Almost eleven years in the apartment, and she'd never noticed before how the dark burgundy of her door was close to maroon or how many scratches its surface had borne over the years, the silent witnesses of the time had passed, and for the moment, she couldn't do anything but stare at it, as if to find an indication, of a divine guidance, because what she had just heard couldn't be true, it simply could not; Harvey Specter couldn't have just declared that she knew he loved her.
Because she didn't; most of times she ignored her feelings, sometimes she hoped there would be perhaps, perhaps more for it, when it was dark and she was alone, but she didn't know; she had never known.
A soft whimper escaped from her mouth, as her tears followed directly afterward. She didn't know exactly why she cried, perhaps because she was dazzled, perhaps because she was confused, but mostly because she was afraid, afraid what would happen next. Because this time she knew they couldn't pretend like it had never happened, she knew they couldn't forget the spoken words; so direct, so explicit, so precise that hadn't left any room neither for any evasion tactic nor for any retreat. Because this time she knew it was the point of no return.
She rushed toward the door —fifteen scratches over the dark maroon— and yanked the door open, barely aware that she was still in her pajamas and her slippers. It made no difference, it wasn't important. She had to catch him, before he crossed the proverbial line and she lost him again, she had to catch him. She wasn't sure what she would do once she found him, but that wasn't important, either. She just had to catch him first.
She couldn't. When she was out, he was already gone.
She looked around, her eyes darting over the pedestrian crowd to spot his familiar figure, her movements slurred, like suddenly the world had slowed its pace, or perhaps had even stopped moving, because suddenly she felt like she was made of stone, her limps listless and stagnant, much like her life, an endless repetitive treadmill, with no way out, and she had lost him the second time.
Her legs gave away, and she collapsed on the pavement, her tears running down like a flood, the world still slow and on mute, the only voice was in her mind, his voice...you know I love you, Donna...You know I love you, Donna...You know I love you, Donna...
But she didn't, but she had never.
She returned to her apartment, like a soldier turning back from a battle, shoulders sagged, steps dragged out, afraid to the sight that would greet him, because he knew his home wasn't the same, not because it had changed, but simply because he had.
She entered inside, and went directly to her bed, but waiting sleep was like Waiting for Godot, the beloved one that would never come. The irony was bitter, and it turned to acid in her stomach. That was exactly what she had been doing, from the day they had met, she had been waiting, always stagnant and listless, answering calls while he saved the world. And he thought she knew he loved her?
The anger suddenly burst out of her cracks, through the chinks over her armor, rising together with each memory that passed through her mind; the way he had let her go at the elevator, the way he had thought she had sold him out, the way he always kept her hanging on, the fury rose, and she clung onto it like a lifeline.
She jerked out of the bedroom, her eyes narrowed, her mouth set, her jaw squared, readying herself to face her opponent. He couldn't do this to her, she shouldn't let him do this to her. He couldn't say something like that then ran away without even looking back.
Coward. The stupid coward bastard. That was what she knew, with an absolute clarity. As undaunted as he was, when it came to his own feelings, he was a damn coward. And she was going to tell him that.
She stormed out of the house, still in pajamas and slippers, and still not caring one bit. Outside her building, she hailed a taxi, and told the driver his address at the Madison Av. The driver gave her a quick look over the visor mirror, but wisely kept his mouth shut, his eyes only hesitating for a second over her figure before he drew his attention back to the road. Craning her neck aside, she watched the city outside, the night fallen, the city that never sleeps preparing for another night.
However, the life was less lightless in his neighborhood, but the wealth still created a false sense security as the city of light shone at the other side, tempting and dangerous, like life itself. She turned her back on its calling, and stepped out of the city, her sudden heated fury leaving its place to a cool determination. She waved her head at the doorman in front of his building, but didn't give any further attention to the curious look of the man, instead walked inside with a slow but purpose stride.
She knocked his door twice, and her arms tight against her sides, she waited until he opened the door. And after a few seconds, he did, holding a whiskey glass in his hand, his vest off, his shirts first buttons were opened, his tie already gone, clearly burying his woes into his a few hundred dollars liquor.
His shoulder braced against the door, he looked at her, almost stupefied as he murmured, "Donna..."
"You stupid son of a bitch," she cut him off, hitting him as she entered inside, "You stupid coward—"
"Donna—" he said, still looking at her with that look, "what are you doing here?"
She shook her head, her anger rising again, "You can't do this to me, Harvey, you can't—" He tried to sound another Donna, but she didn't let him again, he had already spoken too much, and it was her turn now. "You came to my house, you said all those words, then—you practically ran away," she walked to him, so close to an inch, "but not before you told me you loved me—" Suddenly she realized she was about to cry again, "and that I knew it, but—" she shook her head, gulping through a lump in her throat before she spoke again, "But I don't, Harvey, I don't know it." She looked at him in the eyes, "And this is what you can't do this to me," she said, "This is—" but suddenly he did something that would put them much, much further into the point of no return, without no way back to what they had always known.
In a heartbeat, he closed the last inch between them, and pressed his lips over hers.
At the first contact, her body strained like she was suddenly electroshocked, and she thought of pulling back, this was madness, him and her it was more than madness, it was asking for trouble, and she knew it would most probably end in ruins, but the next second she realized she didn't actually care, not anymore.
If to be with him, she must be ruined, then ruined she would be.
She opened her mouth, and he dived in.
