Chapter 3. Beta'd
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Over an hour in, and Donna is fussing. And he, in direct contrast, is trying to get her drunk. Which isn't the easiest of tasks, when she's wound tighter than a dynamo. Following Donna about, whilst she fusses at things; the music - something nineteen forties, with a hint of old school jazz - the food, - brought out by the Caterer at appropriate intervals, a mixture of classic cuisines and fan favourites - and talking to the people that she knows or has met before, and all the in between.
Occasionally she introduces him, before jumping to the next task. It's a great attempt at hosting, but a pretty lousy attempt at relaxing, in his opinion.
He understands her need to keep going. If you keep going and don't stop, then you don't have to deal.
The only problem is that watching that happen, in a person that you care about, is difficult. He wants to quash her pain, and eliminate her anguish. Maybe even witness her laugh a few times, in a memory of her Father.
He finds himself alone for a moment, in the kitchen. He spies a bottle of his favourite tipple waiting for him, separate from the main stock of drinks that the Catering staff have at their disposal. He smirks, knowing it's her doing, and pours himself a top up into a glass nearby, leaning against the counter.
"So….you're the famous Harvey Specter," A voice regards him, as he looks up to see a rather curvy blonde with a white and red dress scrutinising him. He stands to attention, until he spies the ring on her left hand, and then firmly relaxes.
The last thing he ever wants to do, is to get hit on by another woman at Donna's Father's wake.
"Perhaps," He says coolly, holding out a hand for her to introduce herself.
"Pepper Paulsen. Nice to finally meet you." She says, shaking his hand.
He double takes, smiling. "Wait? Pepper...as in Pepper Potts?"
"Oh…" She says, a note of interest in her voice. "So you're a nerd and a lawyer." She regards, that genetic witt dragging through the family. "Interesting." She smirks. "And it's Penelope..." She explains. "My husband Peter, is wandering aimlessly." She adds. "I thought he was in here." She explains.
He's only half convinced of her reasoning.
"No Tony?" He smirks, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the information. "Pete and Pepper Paulsen?" He regards. "That is a bit much."
"Pete and Pepper Paulsen-Waite, I'll have you know. But, if you love that, then wait until you hear what our kids are called…" She plays.
He wonders if she's joking, laughing anyway at the mere idea of such a thing.
"I noticed you were out on a limb here." She observes kindly. "Has Donna not introduced you to anyone yet?" She asks, inferring the crowd behind them.
"I know her Mother...and I've spoken to a couple of people," He defends.
"She's stressed out, isn't she?" She observes, looking behind herself as they both witness Donna ferreting around the room.
So omniscience really is a thing in this family? But somehow, strangely only for the women...
"I think she's trying to keep herself busy…" He explains. "Personally, I'm trying to get her drunk, as she requested earlier." He notes.
"Wow...bold. I don't think Donna's ever been drunk in front of the family before." She says, thinking on the statement.
He frowns then.
The family oriented Donna doesn't quite seem to be the one that he's known all these years.
He wonders if it's a combination of losing everything and striving to be more that changed her in this regard, or just the fact that she's never really been herself in the city. He can't seem to decide on either, at this point.
"Oh, she's fun…" He assures the woman. "She gets the party going, that's for sure."
"Really?" The woman frowns. "I mean, don't get me wrong she's a comedienne, but never the life and soul of the party." She clarifies. "More a...witty addition."
"Donna is...Donna. She's..."
"...she's what?"
"She's one of a kind, that's for sure." He says.
"I have a feeling that you know her better than we do?" Pepper infers, giving Harvey an interested look.
"We've spent, the last...decade, about twelve foot away from one another. So, if I don't know her by now, I never will." He tells the woman. Something catches him about his own words though.
Another piece to the puzzle.
"Well then...you might just be the perfect Partner in Crime, for what I have in mind." She says.
"Yeah? And what's that?" He asks, smirking with a guardedness.
"We're gonna help her...unwind a little...within the socially acceptable bounds, of course."
"Believe, me if you know how...I'll follow your lead." He says. "She gave me free reign to plough her with alcohol, anyway."
"Okay then. That settles it," She says, beckoning him with a devilish smirk.
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They find Donna talking with an older man, a strained look on her face as she nods repeatedly to a string of slowly drawn out sentences.
He feels Pepper beside him, leaning in conspiratorially. "That's Uncle Frank. He's like five hundred years old. I'll distract him, and you get her in the kitchen." She says, before sauntering over to the redhead and the man with liver spots and a worn in frown.
"Hey Cuz." He hears the woman say boldly. "Uncle Frank, I've been meaning to ask you…"
He slides against Donna's side, taking her hand and ignoring the strange look on her face at the two point plan as he escorts her out of the lounge.
"What are you…" She starts, frowning boldly.
"You need a 'time out'…" He says to her face, before tugging her to move with him towards the kitchen.
She stops by the kitchen island, as several catering staff move past them, a look of reservation on her face. "Harvey...I need to mingle...and host." She explains. "It's my job."
"Donna, You've been hosting for two hours. I've not seen you eat or a drink a thing, and the wake is going fine." He says. "Take a moment," He orders, handing her his glass.
She gives him a look, before taking a small sip, and handing it swiftly back to him.
He gives her a withering look, downing the rest of the contents of the glass.
"That all you got?" He goads, walking over to the counter, to pour another three fingers of whiskey.
"You realise I only drink that stuff because of you, right?" She checks, pointing to him.
He gives her a look, before placing the glass down.
"Okay, what do you want? But it has to be something you can take in a shot."
"Harvey," She says, her voice candid as she pointedly ignores the passing waiters. "I don't know if you've noticed, but this is my Father's funeral?"
"And this morning, you told me to 'get you drunk'. At the wake. And right now you're wound tighter than Louis on his worst day." He observes.
"That...is bullshit." She says boldly.
"Seriously...there's only two ways of getting you to relax right now, and only one of them is appropriate for a wake." He says.
She arches an eyebrow then. "Well...it depends if just friends that throw their keys in, or if Grandpa decides to join." She says with a sly wink.
"Uh...you're gross." He says, scrunching his face. His expression towards the point remains steady, though, as he watches her gradually give in. "So?"
"Fine...Tequila." She says, huffing.
"Tequila it is…" He says. "Stay right here," He points to her feet, before gliding out of the room with a smirk.
He wanders up to the Bartenders - if you can call them that. They're pretty much children behind a white table cloth in a dead man's lounge. He's sure all they know how to do is pour things out of bottles. Hefocuses on the face of a youngish blonde guy.
"Hey, I need a bottle of Tequila, for the Hostess?" He says, opening his wallet and pulling out the two cleanest fifties that the kid has probably ever seen in his life, pointing them at the young man.
"I don't know if…" The kid stutters, looking underneath the table for a moment.
"Come on kid, give it up." He encourages, watching as the young man's hand rises, handing over the bottle of Tequila with a worried face.
"No one will know it's gone, trust me." He says, taking the bottle and one glass, and looking about the various people spread out in the room.
This was not a Tequila crowd.
He walks to the kitchen, watching her hands slide onto her hips and her head tilt, giving him a challenging look.
"That," She points. "Is not a shot."
"I like to think this has more potential than just a shot…" He remarks, a slight croon in his voice as he pours a double measure of the orangey liquid into a glass, before handing it to her, and doing the same with his own. He places the bottle next to the whiskey.
"To your Dad," He toasts.
"To Fathers." She adds, raising her own glass.
His smirk falters, before the genuine sentiment pools into his eyes. "To Fathers." he agrees, chinking their glasses. "You need to shot that," He reminds her, before downing his own, his expression turning sour at the bitter taste.
He's more occupied with her lack of expression, as he sees her down the entire thing without so much as blinking.
"How do you do that?" He asks her.
"Easy...Tequila is awesome." She says, observing her empty glass as she licks her lips.
He smirks. "Whiskey's better." He counters.
"We're just...two different people, Harvey." She muses, playfully.
"We're two sides of the same coin, and you know it," He counters, boldly. Her eyes flash with something, that he feels the need to cover instantly. "Time for another shot," He says, moving to the bottle.
She smirks at him, then, rolling her eyes at his insistence.
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Donna Paulsen
The past week has been a strange one, to say the least .
Her Father had died. Abruptly. Suddenly. Without real explanation - An aneurism, apparently. Plain and simple.
And just like that, lost to the world.
She had only spoken to him the week previous. He had been fine. Chirpy. Finally retired. Finally giving up the need to be Gordon Gekko. Everything seemed to be settling in for him.
It was only then, that she truly lost him.
And so she spent a week cleaning his house, and arranging his things, and living in a world that she'd barely stepped into.
There is another strangeness, too, of Harvey, suddenly and inexplicably here, with her. Taking the weight of her duties and shouldering her burdens without so much as a complaint on his end.
She doesn't know what to do with that, in the wake of all of it put together.
He's holding her hand and comforting her, when no less than a week or two ago they had been spitting words in each other's faces and practically at each other's throats, to the point where their friends had to intervene, and draw up corners.
She'd even deleted his numbers from her phone. It had been an overstep, but a necessary one. She had been so angry, and so confused, and so heartbroken by his negative reaction to the kiss, that she had begun to finally and completely close the doors on him.
But now he's here, getting her drunk, and being kind and attentive, and displaying himself to her entire family like her significant other. It had caused her to fall in and out of trust with him over the course of the day. She was trying to move on. To establish herself as something outside of him, only for him to bring her back again. And it was only confusing matters the more he continued to be a Gentleman.
He is with Paula. She doesn't understand it. She feels like she's missing pieces of the puzzle, and she wants to ask him questions, important, life altering ones, but the fact is, she's standing in the middle of burying her Father, and honoring his memory.
She just doesn't have time.
And so there is a push and a pull and a resistance, to this different Harvey, still attached to old problems, and yet serving up solutions for her in her fragile state.
He had held her, at the service, when she couldn't take it anymore. When her heart had faltered her, and her Mother hadn't even bothered to be in attendance.
He was there for her. The only one, really.
Of course, Louis and Rachel and Mike had messaged, sending their love. But other than that, and when it comes down to it, she feels alone in the world, and yet all at once still silently attached to him. And for not the first time, he is here, beside her and focused on her entirely in one wonderfully beguiling situation.
Because he's still with Paula. She doesn't know everything, but she does know that.
She's slightly drunk now, after about an hour of Harvey very carefully topping up her drunken state. She's now witnessing her favourite cousin, Pepper, and Harvey in a battle of wits, as Peter looks at her with a humourous tiredness, the two fighting over the legislation of counterfeit law; something that Harvey is fully aware of in his line of work, and something that Pepper deals with in the day to day of her job as a Global Security Investigations Manager.
"Look, you can't base your entire ideology on the fact that the consumer is deliberately looking for a knock off," Pepper spouts, looking to Donna and her husband in disbelief, before eagerly immersing herself in her tirade against Harvey's counter argument. "A fake is still being produced to look like a direct copy, and that is a strict violation." She adds.
She sighs, sliding a hand on both of the debaters. "Okay Brainiacs, I'm going to the bathroom." She says, chuckling to herself for a moment as she slides down the hall.
She notices someone at the door, frowning at who would possibly not have knocked. She doubles back, judging the noise level. Perhaps, it's a neighbour coming to pay their respects, someone that her Aunt had missed off of the list. She walks towards the doors, opening them, and walking out to see who it is.
"Donna,"
She hears the words come out of Mark Meadows' mouth, as he stands there, distinguished looking and looking at her like he's been looking for her forever.
"Mark?" She frowns.
"Sorry, I know that I should have called," He admits, his soft eyes apologetic.
"Yes, you should have." She corrects.
"It's just...I heard about your Dad from a colleague, and I...I'm just...I'm so sorry." He tells her.
Her shoulders slump. The idea that he would be here, had fleeted in her mind when she had first arrived. He lived near Hartford, so there was always a possibility that she would run into him, after the last time.
Problem was, she didn't want to run into him, after the last time. Not after what she had almost done. Not after the look on his face had haunted her for weeks.
He moves to wrap his arms around her. But it feels weird. It feels wrong, as she takes a step back, her arms rising to deter him.
"Mark...you're married." She points out.
"We split up." He counters.
"What?"
It knocks her, then, the information turning her entire life on it's head.
"You were right, what you said." He tells her. "And I realised, I...I couldn't stay...in a relationship with someone when I was still thinking about you like that, I...it's always been you, Donna." He tells her, breathless and a raw yearning in his voice.
"Mark," She manages, her head full of feelings but no words left now.
"I came here to pay my respects, but I just…I love you, Donna" He pauses, his hands sliding to her face then, his lips descending on hers.
"Donna, what's-"
His distinct voice is like a bucket of ice water to the face, as she rips herself away from the wonderful man with his heart laid out in front of her, her lips moist and her heart beating loudly to witness two sharp cheekbones, and an shocked gaze, as Harvey's quick deduction of the situation in front of him percolates into his face.
His back hunches, almost like a dog, as his steely eyes look directly at a man he recognises immediately.
"Harvey...I just...can you give me a minute?" She asks, searching his suddenly locked down expression.
"Donna," He questions, heavily, his head shaking slowly against her words.
"Please." She pleads, her eyes boring into hers.
It takes him a second, before he backs away, flashing his gaze at the man one last time before going back inside.
Her heart bends a fraction, the worry that he'll suddenly leave confusing itself with the man that's stood in front of her.
She looks back at Mark, noticing his expression change as well. "So...he's here…" He says, nodding to himself, a the irony of the moment.
"Mark...you don't call me? You don't text? This is my Father's funeral. This is a lot…"
"Are you...together? You and Harvey?" He fires at her. It's the first time in all the time that she's known him, that he sounds just like Harvey.
She gives him a withering look. She is so tired of both of these men right now. "No, Mark, he, like you, decided to be with someone else rather than be with me." She snaps at him.
"Donna, look, I know what I asked you, was lousy, I get that…I do...but I'm here now." He says, planting the words. She doesn't answer, and so a thought seems to catch at his eyes. "Wait...Don't tell me that after all this time, you're still holding out for him?" He supposes.
"Mark..I kissed him. Okay? I kissed him...whilst he was in a relationship, and the only reason I did that was because of you. Because I thought, that if I wasn't meant to be with the guy from the best relationship of my life, then I needed to see if he was the love of my life." She says. "And the difference is, Harvey has been the perfect gentleman, and has been here for me all day, as a friend, even though I know that he fought with my Father every single time he met him. And unlike you, he didn't ask me to have an affair with him behind his wife's back. If anything...he's only here because he's being a friend to me." She says. "Because he's been there. For everything." She tells him. "And if I was holding out for him...then it would be because of that." She says staunchly.
"I…" He pauses, his face devoid of argument.
"Mark." She says. "I still love you. I always will. But I can't deal with this right now. I need to mourn my Father, and then figure out some things. So...I need you..to go home...and just give me...a few days. And then I'll call you. Okay?." She reasons.
"Will you?" He asks her, a doubt hanging in his face.
"Yes." She nods, her hand sliding over his beard. "I will."
He seems pained, and live-wired like she's never seen. She wagers that the break up is morning coffee fresh, and that he's out of sorts right now. But her words seem to settle him somewhat, despite that. He leans in, his hand sliding into her hair, as he kisses her cheek, his lips lingering long enough to tell her that he has her in mind.
"Goodnight Donna," He tells her.
"Goodnight Mark." She says, before turning on her heel and walking to the door.
She's not going to wait for him to leave. If she does, she doubts he'd ever leave.
When she walks back into the house, people are starting to make their way out, so she doesn't even have time to find him.
Her life is a mess. And entire shit storm of a mess.
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It takes half an hour to say goodbye to people. Thankfully her Mother had left pretty early into the wake, but it left her to be the one to give her thanks to the various friends and family for their attendance, in honoring her Father's passing.
She pays the Caterer, and the Bar staff, who disassemble their equipment quickly, and strip themselves from her Father's house.
She wonders if Harvey has left, until she spies his car still out front still. It brings her some relief, that he's not left yet.
But when she walks upstairs, he's not in the guest room. If she were honest with herself, she is too emotionally exhausted after everything, to even assemble herself enough to battle Harvey's reaction to Mark turning up out of the blue. To have him make up his own story to the outcome of his appearance. Especially after the things that she had said the night before.
So, she walks to her father's ensuite, and turns on the shower, the place where she's sure she can rid herself of the gambit of conflicting emotions that are streaking right through her.
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If walls could whisper
They would whisper to me
"We'll keep you sheltered my dear, but we can't set you free"
So dance with your demons and television lines
And if you must tell her
Then you better tell her tonight
And whilst you were sleeping
I sat in the dark
With all my offenses
The creases on my heart
And all these bad feelings
From my teenage boy brain
And for all of my offenses
I will count the grains of salt
For all the lies I told
'Salt' By Jordan Mckampna