Author's Notes: I've always seen Harvey Specter as the man that Lana Del Rey talks about in a lot of her songs. This chapter has pepperings of her song lyrics. I'm not going to use the events that we know are happening in 7.13, just because where's the fun in that? This is my alternative take on the end few episodes. Let's hope we get an amazing Darvey development this season, because God knows we need it...

. . . ...

Chapter Two

… …. . . .

Kiss me hard before you go

Summertime sadness

I just wanted you to know

That baby, you the best….

. . . . .

*~Two Weeks Previous~*

.I guess this is the perfect time to tell you...that when I kissed you, I finally knew why I'd spent all those years beside you. Why I stayed. I lied, Harvey. I did feel something. Maybe more than even I knew. Maybe I'd felt it for a very long time. And when you began to kiss me back, I knew that it was too much. You were with Paula. And I'm sorry for that. For risking your relationship just to figure that out. I just never counted on it ever affecting you, too. And now...it doesn't matter I guess. I hope you chose well, Harvey, and I hope she makes you happy. I really do. Just be happy. I only ever wanted the best for you. But it's too much for me to stay. Jessica has offered me an 'out'. I'm taking it.

All my love,

Donna ~

...I lied...

Harvey had almost blacked out, running along the edges of autopilot. Sharp and direct in his pursuit. To the elevator. To the cab. To the airport. Paying the cab driver, he pressed forward, her letter in his hand the entire way there. Half an hour ticked by in sheer seconds until his eyes had glazed over at the large suspended table of flight numbers, yellow dots, an assortment of words and letters and status updates that scrambled in his mind. He struggled to see clearly until he got to the barrier, a ticket to somewhere unrelated hanging in his other hand.

It was only when he ran to the gate, his heartbeat faltering, staring eyes wide at the empty gate. His eyes flicked to the large windows, a plane taking off into the night sky.

It had left, taking Donna Paulsen with it.

Twelve hours... the concept flicked through his mind on repeat.

It would take only two hours, maybe three with check in, but it's already half past nine, and in all honesty, he needs this. He needs to move forward, and keep moving before he gets too scared. Before she begins to hate him. Before it's really too late.

His hands flick down to his phone, automatically fishing it out of his pocket.

Just twelve hours, and at this time of night...with barely anyone on the roads.

He could...pick up a car,

And then just...go.

A straight line, from New York straight through to Pennslyvania, Ohio, and then onto Chicago.

He'd be in the windy city, before the work day had even warmed up. Before she had even settled into the city.

Of course, flying, meant he could sleep some, recharge his batteries. But he had to get to her. Too late seemed too rash, and too early would mean he'd hit her fury head on.

And what the hell would sleep really do? He was too wired, too anxious. He knows how that would end...with him, slightly drunk on airplane booze, crashing Jessica's place at some god forsaken hour, demanding an address so he could wake up someone even less deserving of the intrusion. He'd already hurt her past the point that he worried they could never come back from. So he has to do this right. He's never felt like this before, so on edge and anxious and impatient. Suddenly every single thing in his life has forced itself out of the way, leaving him at the epicentre, staring at the slowly fading image of the woman that he had lost from his life for the third time in his life.

He hails a cab from JFK and stuffs the white envelope into his pocket.

When the wind hits his knuckles, the cool breeze flying past his cheekbones, he knows he made the right choice. The perfect choice.

It always was her favourite.

Copper tinged.

Classic.

Priceless.

. . . . .

I drive fast, wind in my hair, push it to the limits 'cause I just don't care

I've got a burning desire for you, baby

(I've got a burning desire)

I'm driving fast, flash, everyone knows it

I'm trying to get to you, baby

I'm feeling scared and you know it

. . . . .

The open road emerges quicker than he had anticipated. Thank god he hadn't drunk a thing all night, or else he'd really be dicing with the bad side of the coin.

The lights are few in between towns, Teterboro airport and Willbrook racing past his vision in a blur. He doesn't acknowledge the road signs until the i80 turns into the i90 and Whiskeyville pops up on the sat nav. He could use a drink, a little something to abate the adrenaline coursing with a perplexity through his frayed nerves.

But then again maybe it was the adrenaline that was keeping him upright. Keeping him going. Of course, in truth, it's her that keeps him on course. The last time he had seen her, so angry and overcome, asking him, nay, pleading with him to fight for her. To put her first once more. He should have seen that moment for what it was. Instead, he had been blinded by her lie. One of many. He shakes the thought from his mind. He can't be mad, really. She was the one thing in the world that kept him sane, and level and true. She kept him honest. She would be the only redhead to ever orbit his world and there was a very strict and simple reason for that.

He thought he'd made things so clear…

He shakes the idea from his mind, hating himself in one fail swoop. He had been an asshole for so long, misunderstanding her. Her every word, her every ideal. All she ever wanted was for him to be happy and loved, as she watched from afar… and so bittersweet that all the time he had been trying to swallow the feeling of wanting her… all the questions and insinuations and responses she had missed, and how exactly?

Was it the case that he was...far, far more subtle with her than he had ever fully considered?

And yet every moment, had felt like his heart was open against a knife. Like her eyes could bore into him and pick out every single truth that his heart could offer.

Could it be that the one thing she couldn't see the truth of, was him? Was how he felt about her? How much he felt about her?

It panics him further, his foot pressing firmly against the accelerator as he sees 'Toledo Express Airport' flash past his peripheries.

His eyes are like two beads of subtly sparkling onyx in the dark.

. . . ...

Don't break me down

I've been travelin' too long

I've been trying too hard

With one pretty song

I hear the birds on the summer breeze,

I drive fast, I am alone in midnight

Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,

But I, I've got a war in my mind

So, I just ride, just ride,

I just ride, just ride

. . ...

He hits some bad weather into Michigan, engaging the roof in a daze. It hasn't been as bad as he'd imagined, pumped full of adrenaline and a half dozen drive-thru coffees on the way, have him very much with his eye on the ball. He could do that. Fitness and endurance had always been his strength. Much to his detriment, he realises. He had been bitter, and held it, never realising where it came from. Every push, every nudge of hers towards another woman, had only made him more stubborn. Scottie, Zoe, Esther. The pressing… It had all culminated in this bitter resentful note in his head that she had just been placed beside him to torture him, to press him into these relationships, and yet, whenever he'd asked about her, about her picture in all of this she immediately deflected. She balked for the hills, until the one moment he'd finally given up trying to understand her and then...there she was, suddenly in his office, her head turning at why he had left her apartment in haste...

He had left that night, to offset a whim. Of course he had wanted to sleep with her...she had been sat there, satin clad, with a plunging neckline, them both swimming in relief and red wine and of course he had wanted to kiss her. He had looked at her lips, slightly glossed and red wine tinged, and in that moment he had wanted to press her into the formative line of the couch and do what his instincts and heart had told him to do, but...how was he to know? How was he to know that she had wanted more in that moment? She'd spent a decade dating other men and pushing him towards other women...how was he to know that she suddenly wanted him for more than a simple exaltation? For more than a flippant relief of that one situation?

How,

Was he to know?

And then….

She Left.

And his world turned to darkness and shame and panic and resentment.

Paula had picked him out of stubborn refusal and a dark cloud.

He had been wrong. Admittedly… but he had also been longing.

For the one woman in the world who had left him. And instead of explaining herself. Instead of giving some part of herself over to him, she had told him that she loved him, and then walked away from them.

What was he to do with that, past the anger and the confusion, except grasp for straws and hope that he could still keep her in some semblance of his world? She had all but exiled herself from his kingdom, only to betray him in the worse kind of way.

Would she have found what they had had, with Louis? Honestly?

It had taken Paula to realise that that idea, in and of itself was wrong. That that kind of idea in his head was unhealthy, and restricting. But now...now he knew only one thing.

That what he felt back then trumps all coherent reason now.

He loves her, immeasurably, it seems.

His world isn't whole without her.

And now,

He is coming to collect. In full.

. . . . ...

Down on the west coast,

They got this sayin'

"If you're not drinkin', then you're not playin'"

But you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

Down on the West coast, I get this feeling like

It all could happen,that's why I'm leaving

You for the moment, you for the moment

You're falling hard, I push away, I'm feelin' hot to the touch

You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much

But something keeps me really quiet, I'm alive, I'm a lush

Your love, your love, your love

. . . .

His brain fully wakes up to farmland, Indiana, the amber stream of light piercing through mottled blue cloud over the outskirts of Gary. He's refuelled at least five times now, every time the promise of a little extra mile for the gallon. He had begun to understand the night, in all it's quiet and reverence. But the day… The day, is like a blank canvas.

His Mother found promise in such a thing.

But for him...it terrifies him.

. . .

I've seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

Will you still love me

When I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I've got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

I've seen the world, lit it up...

. . . . . .

He knows he's finally hit Chicago, when the tone changes, from beat up trucks and cropped farmland into an urban concrete jungle of sorts, emerging slowly with every passing mile, dozens of chrome pylons streaking into the sky, the grass short and corn-tinged in colour against a greyish sky. More lorries and heavier set cars overtake his slightly slower pace. He frowns, pressing his foot on the accelerator once more. Chicago isn't the most obviously beautiful city. He's sure it has it's charm, in a way, but the idea of Donna remaining here seems disjointed somehow. Chicago is no destination for a woman like her. She is Manhattan through and through. Like him. He swallows a lump in his throat, guilt starting to seep in at the chain reaction that has settled unnaturally around him.

Wolf Lake Memorial Park springs out and around him, as he continues along the i90. He stops at the Toll Bridge, a row of unmanned concrete buildings halting his journey. He rolls down the window to slot some spare change into the yellow machine to his right, sighing at the action as the wind hits his face with a sharpness.

It's Official. He has made it to Chicago.

He sets off again, his attention flicking to the rear view mirror. He frowns, observing the red rings around his eyes that are slightly puffy, with a blue tinge framed underneath them, and his hair slightly askew where he's rubbed it in frustration at various stages of the night. Teamed with the five o'clock shadow on his jawline, it's clear that he isn't himself. How can he be...

She is the only one he'd lose his shit over. The only one who can pull at him. With her, it was different. It is different.

Suddenly he spots the eight thirty six on his watch. He is behind schedule. He has to press on.

Only half an hour to go.

. . . . ..

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to your finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine
Walking through the city streets
Is it by mistake or design?
I feel so alone on a Friday night
Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you're mine?
It's like I told you, honey

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why
Keep making me laugh
Let's go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime

. . . . ..

Donna Paulsen wakes up with nagging feeling in her gut, that's only partially overtaken by the unnatural spring in her step.

She had run away. She'd left him and all of them behind.

It had been deliberate, and unnatural, and therefore an unknown quantity in her mind.

But it is enough to give her a fresh start.

Jessica has been..well. Jessica. A woman of finite meanings but very few words.

She had welcomed Donna with open arms the night before, promising a different role and an entirely different experience, but one that would never make her feel less than her worth. But something has still caught at the redhead. As if the older woman knew somehow. As if she had been privy to the events in her life, when she had touched down, sealing this life altering change.

She sips at her takeaway coffee in the cab ride over from her hotel to Jessica's building on the corner of West Washington Street, and North Le Salle, the anticipation of change brewing in her gut.

The cab slows against the curb, as she pays the driver, opening the door to plant one high-heel against the dirty sidewalk. She looks up at very different building, brownstone, understated, serious.

She reminds herself.

That this city and this building are her home now.

. . . . . .

Baby, you're no good for me

You're no good for me

But baby, I want you, I want

Diet mountain dew, baby, New York City

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love?

. .

He had managed to park around the corner, knowing the address from a text Jessica had given him a few months back. A sheer jolt of luck in his favour, as he marches towards building of 30 North La Salle.

He frowns, ignoring the staunch brownstone and its tall, almost stubborn ascent into the sky.

This isn't her home, he thinks gruffly to himself.

He relaxes slightly, as he enters the lobby, streaking through the lobby and into the elevator, glancing only briefly at the 'Pearson & Malone' listed for the Twentieth Floor. The elevator ride is slow, and not seamless like in his own building. He frowns again, heavier this time, straightening at the impatience that starts to grow. Feelings start to force their way to the surface as the elevator doors open. He glides out of the doors, meeting a reception, simple and monotoned.

He pauses, the flash of red streaking across his eye.

He half-smiles to himself, expelling a sigh that seems to shed all reservation in his mind.

She is here.

In front of him.

Her red hair curled and faultless against the passing air.

She is dressed in a streak of white and black.

Her eyes wide and surprised as she stops, dead in her tracks against the sheer sight of him.

. . . .

Because I'm crazy, baby

I need you to come here and save me

I'm your little scarlet starlet

Singing in the garden

Kiss me on my open mouth

Ready for you

. . . . ..

He quirks his eyebrow, trying at some semblance of the old them.

She frowns, looking down at her hands.

His teeth clench together in disappointment, yet still, against the sound of his heart, the beats slightly unsteady as he levels a slow and reeling breath.

Just as she starts to turn he breaks out of his stillness, taking a step towards her, as people, also grey and slightly tilted against the early hour and his lack of sleep wander around them, like schools of fish.

Nobody knows them here. Here, they have no reputation.

"Donna," He says, his eye charted a course he has no real business following.

Her words come like a well rehearsed defence. "If you're here to ask me to come back to work with you, the answer is no, Harvey...and...how dare you." She reams off, her words hardening against the sheer sigh of him.

"I'm….not," He grabs her hand, pulling her out of her own focus and closer to him as he lowers his volume. "Donna...you left, just like that...and I…."

"I told you Harvey, I can't do this anymore. And what Jessica's offered me...it gives me a chance to start over. I ha-"

"Is that what you really want?" He presses, interrupting her. "To start over?" He frowns, frustration and tiredness setting in.

She huffs, straightening. "Harvey...since when has it mattered to you what I really want?" She plants, lifting an eyebrow.

He double takes. "Are you kidding me?" He says, his pitch raising instantly.

"Harvey. I am not doing this with you, right now. This is my first day." She stresses, looking around them both.

"Meet me...at lunch?" He says tiredly, irritation grinding the gears in his voice as he thinks about the possibility of sleep impending.

He sees the wheels turn in her mind, that indent of a frown matching his.

He takes her silence for a conformation. "I'll text you where I am." He tells her, a heavy tone clapping down on his words. "If you don't show," He warns.

"I don't know when I'll be available." She says stubbornly, straightening in the highest heels he's every seen her wear. So high she almost towers half an inch above him like Jessica used to.

He's ashamed to admit how it makes him feel like a little boy.

"I mean it." He insists boldly, before turning on his heel, his hands clenching into fists.

He has to leave now, before he doesn't something he'll regret later.

. . . . .

Donna's mind is reeling from his sudden appearance. She should never have discounted the possibility of his arrival so soon after her departure. It's typically him - impulsive and riding on his emotions in times of stress. If she were honest with herself, she would have expected him to have touched down last night and come crawling. He is the inevitable man-child of his upbringing. This is essentially him, throwing his toys out of the pram, because she's chosen, once again, to put herself first, and over him.

It only cements in her mind, that Chicago is the best choice she could have ever made.

She doesn't tell her new boss of her old Bosses appearance,

Hoping that his arrival in Chicago has gone - as yet - unnoticed.

... . . .

She frowns after Jessica offers her a long lunch to get acclimated with her new surroundings, the message from Harvey having been sent around eleven am and blaring in neon lights against the home screen of her cellphone.

She reluctantly hails a cab, crossing north and over the DuSable bridge to the Peninsula Hotel. As the cab pulls up to valet, she gets out, paying the driver and ignores the rather beautiful facade. It's regal and typically Harvey, she thinks to herself, as she crosses the threshold, making her way straight to the elevator. She draws in a breath, their last conversation turning over in her mind. She doesn't allow the questions to surface in her mind.

She's made her decision. There is no going back. She's just paying the piper, is all.

. . . . . .

His eyes snap open, his mind foggy when he hears the knock at the door. He looks about himself, shirt crumpled and suit pants messy as he clambers off of the bed and makes his way to the door. There isn't time fix himself.

He opens the door, his feelings branching in two as he witnesses Donna, crisp, tidy, elegant and reluctantly at the door.

She gives him a look of frustration, barging past him, muttering something akin to 'Let's get this over with," as he slams the door behind them both.

She turns on the spot, placing her bag onto a nearby chair.

"What are you doing here, Harvey?" She fires at him, like a thoroughbred straight out of the gate

"Donna. You can't just leave." He says.

"Funny. As that is exactly what happened." She remarks, all sharp angles and resentment.

It rises his ire, as he looks at her, ignoring the emotion in her eyes, almost so full they could drown him in one. "So...you've moved to Chicago, then?" He says boldly, almost too casually considering the circumstances.

"I told you. I needed a clean break." She states, her voice thin as she folds her arms to cement her point.

"Donna," He says her name, swallowing thickly.

"Don't Donna me, Harvey. You made your choice, and now...I've made mine." She says.

"I didn't expect you to leave the state!" He barks.

Her eyes widen then. Is it possible that this man is completely dumb to the facts? "So...you expect me to stay working with someone, who's chosen his girlfriend's wish to stay away from me, when we work in offices NEXT to one another?" She counters, the level in her voice rising to match his.

He frowns, fishing for the thoroughly crumpled letter in his breast pocket and shoving it into the space between them. "No, Donna. I expected that you would at least tell me to my face. Not leave me a god damned letter as a parting gift and jump on the next plane out of JFK!"

"Tell you what exactly? That I felt something? That I might have spent my entire life wasting opportunities to be happy, just to find out that the man I thought might-," She pauses, bailing on the words in her mouth. "The man I thought I could count on couldn't even find it in himself to put me first." She says, grimacing.

Her words sting, and alert him and he's so confused right now couldn't count to ten if someone asked him.

"Donna, she's my girlfriend." He reminds her, heavily. "I..." He pauses, the thought immediately draining the blood out of his face. Paula. He'd...forgotten about... He closes his eyes for a second, cursing his bad luck and addled state.

She double takes, the words knitting together. "Wait a second... you jumped on a flight out of Chicago, and not only does she have no idea you're here, but she's actually still your girlfriend?"

"I drove," He offers limply. "I..." He pauses, realisation dawning on him.

Her eyes widen, the information collecting in her mind with every second of silence.

She gathers herself finally, a held expression on her face. "Well….Harvey, This..." She gestures around them. "Is the outcome of your decisions." She says bitter-sweetly. "Deal with it."

He frowns, hit by the full force of her words.

She begins to move to the door, as his hand reaches out, clasping around hers. It's cool to the touch and silky smooth and it terrifies him just as much as it excited him. Her eyes flick to his then, livid, and shaken by his action. She seems to take one moment too long to rip her hand out of his grasp.

"Don't call me. Don't write. Don't ask Jessica where I am and do not show up at my door because I won't open it." She demands cleanly, every word cutting just enough.

He frowns, the pit of his stomach dropping several floors. "Donna," He manages through gritted teeth.

"We're done, Harvey." She half smiles, something unnatural and bitter-tinged. "Tell Paula she gets you all to herself." She says, disappearing behind the door in a flash of red and a click.

It takes two seconds for the bile to creep up this throat, before he has to sprint to the bathroom, releasing the last twelve hours from his mind.

He peers, blurry-eyed into the soiled toilet bowl, flashes of red caught in his mind, and his heart caught in his chest like cooked liver in branches.

He hadn't said a thing he wanted to. Not a thing he'd planned.

And once again, of course, she is right.

He'd completely forgotten about Paula, in all of this.

His girlfriend. Expecting him to be at her door...tonight.

He sleeps the day away in Chicago, texting Paula to reschedule before he drives back to the only city that would have him.

All he can think of, is how he'd done everything backwards, and how he had missed his chance now.

She was moving past him.

And before he'd had the chance to tell her that he loved her.

Completely.

. . . . . . ...

Harvey's in the sky with diamonds
And it's making me crazy
All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby

. . . . .. .. . . .