A/N: Hullo, here the next chapter, but before it, I'd like to take the opportunity to answer the question that was asked by a guest reviewer. First, thank you for your review, and no, I don't believe we've have seen her actually in jeans before. After she got fired in Season 2, there were times she was seen in causal clothing, such as yoga pants, but not actually in jeans. But that was an intentional choice, and the reason will probably be obvious with this update.

Thanks for the comments, guys. I appreciate each of them.

Chapter Two:

The next morning he walked into Pearson Darby Specter purposefully, dressed flawlessly in his best suit, complete with a dark tie and dark shoes, all the shields he had raised for the battle. The only remnants from the previous day were the plasters on his knuckles, and a small scratch above his eyebrow that was already bruised.

Mike walked out of opposite elevator at the entrance to the firm. "Hey, are—" Mike started as he trotted next to him, trying to keep up with his hurried pace.

Harvey held his hand up, his eyes still fixed ahead. "New day, new game," and he had already lost enough time thinking about the past. He made a left turn and emerged on the corner where his office stationed; people were already buzzing around, preparing for another workday-fight. "If they want a trial," Harvey remarked, voice rasping, "then they will get it."

"Harvey—"

"Get Katherine, there's a meeting in ten minutes in the second conference room," he interrupted the young associate again.

"Katherine?" Mike asked, astonished.

Harvey finally spared him a glance. "Why the surprise," he asked, "I thought you enjoyed working together."

Mike laughed incredulously, as his voice thinned, "Oh, that was a very loose way to describe it," he commented.

"Rachel returned?" Harvey asked.

"No, not yet. Her flight is due—"

"Then Katherine it is," he finished. He stopped in front of his office, and his head snapped to left. "Where is Donna?"

Mike turned to the left too, and stared at her empty cubicle. "Uh—perhaps she called in sick?" the young man mused.

"To who?" Harvey asked irritatedly. "You?" New day, new game. She wasn't supposed to play the sick card. She was supposed to show up like he did, like nothing had happened, prepared for another battle. It was a game they had been playing for years, and it wasn't time to change the rules now. "Go gather, Katherine," Harvey said, without another glance at the younger man. "I'm gonna see you in ten minutes."

Perhaps, he had been expecting too much from Donna, he thought as he walked into his office. But it was Donna, she always knew what he needed. And right now, he just needed her. He needed things to be how they'd always been. They were a team, and teammates didn't let each other down.

He picked up the phone, and called one of the three numbers he knew by memory. The line rang, rang, rang... "Come on, Donna, answer it," he muttered at the grating ring tone. God, he didn't have time to deal with this. Not now. The phone continued to ring as his anger increased, and when she finally picked it up, he all but shouted, "Didn't I tell you I'd see you in the morning," his eyes skid to her empty space, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm not—sure," Donna said, in a strangely hesitant voice.

His brows knitted, as his annoyance was fueled even more by the non-Donna-like answer. "What do you mean you're not sure?"

"God, please, no more screaming," she whined. "I'm battered, hurt, I passed out on the pavement—"

What the hell? "What?"

"Bloodied—"

WHAT THE HELL? "Bloodied?!"

She was silent for a few seconds, only her harsh breathing could be heard over the line, then she whispered, "Oh my god!" A pause, then another teary, broken, "Oh!My!God!"

Panic rose its ugly head but he managed to press it down, and asked with a voice he hoped not only was soothing but commanding, "Donna," he started, "Donna, stay calm, and tell me where you are."

"Oh, god," her words mixed with her cries then all the logic left his mind, and panic overruled. "Donna! Goddammit," he yelled, standing up from his seat, listening to the silence, "Donna! Donna! Donna! Donna, TALK TO ME!"

But she wasn't, she wasn't talking. "Do—" The line went dead before he could finish her name.

He found Mike fifty two seconds later walking into the conference room, still trying to reach her on the phone. "Mike," he called as he entered after him listening to the metallic voice of the recording telling him that the number he was calling couldn't be reached.

Thank you, Captain Obvious. "Hey, I still have another four—"Mike stopped in the middle of his sentence, "What's the problem?"

"Donna—" he replied shortly, "She's—in trouble."

Mike raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh—you're—"

"Call the police," Harvey cut him off. "Her phone is offline. Then call Judge Patterson to get a trace ordered."

"Harvey—aren't you exaggerating—"

"She was crying—"Harvey said.

"Well, you know how she can fake it," Mike pointed out.

"It wasn't an act!" he shouted. "She's somewhere she doesn't know, she just came around and she's hurt." He stopped, and turned to leave the conference room. "Mike, she wasn't acting. Call the police—now."

This time the younger man nodded, looking worried. Harvey knew he had a point, he'd seen Donna's acting skills firsthand, but Mike didn't know her like he did; she was in trouble. It was more than a gut feeling; he had never heard Donna like that, even the last year when he had cornered her in the bathroom she hadn't seemed so… lost. She had been on the verge of the tears, yes, but still holding herself up… He walked out. "Hey—"Mike called after him, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find her," he answered, without turning back. He was going to find her, and put everything back to the way it was.

Donna was a woman of routines. Every morning she had her breakfast from the same deli then picked up their usual cups of coffee from the shop next to the office. For lunch, there were only four restaurants she frequented, and she never ate anything heavier than a salad. For dinner, her options varied a bit, from fine dining to burger houses, but for causal drinking, especially the sort suited to getting rid of a terrible workday there were only two places that she preferred, thank god for small mercies.

Absently realizing just how much he actually knew about her daily routine, Harvey entered Johnny's. Johnny's was the type of corner pub that looked like it could have been the inspiration for Cheers, still even though the décor hadn't changed since the good old days it was nice, the people were friendly, the music wasn't terrible, and Johnny was the best bartender on the block. Her clothing choice yesterday suggested Donna had made it a Johnny's day, so the amicable pub had been his first choice. It turned out it wasn't his best deduction; Donna hadn't been seen in Johnny's last night.

Nodding briskly at the bartender/owner, Harvey walked out.

With its bright ambience, and eclectic clients, Ben's Den was the opposite of Johnny's; changing every year according to the latest trend. Sometimes Harvey wondered how those exact polar opposites could be her the most frequented places but as he learned over the long years he had known her, Donna Paulsen was full of surprises.

Nodding at a few patrons he knew from his own time there, Harvey walked to the bar. Behind the stall Eddie was on his daytime shift, a white rag hung over his left shoulder as he wiped the bar with another. "Hey, Harvey," he greeted him as he approached, and his hand momentarily halted. Eddie had once been a pro-bono client in the days he had been taking community cases, and he had felt gratitude to Harvey ever since, and wasn't shy about demonstrating it. "What can I get you, man?" he asked with a smile, as he resumed his cleaning, "There is just this awesome scotch we just got in."

Leaning to one of bar stools stayed up in the heels in the air, Harvey shook his head, "No. I'm not here for a drink. I was looking for Donna." Harvey paused as the man threw the rag under the counter. "Did you see her last night?"

"Donna—?" Eddie asked, taking the cloth that hung over his shoulder off too. "Yeah, she was here the last night... drinking heavily." He paused as Harvey frowned. "Is she okay?"

Harvey ignored the question. "Was she with someone?"

"No," the bartender shook his head, "No, she came alone."

"She talked to someone?"

"I dunno," he murmured, as on his face appeared a look of concentration. "Last night was busy. The gamblers in the block won, came out to celebrate—"He trailed off seeing Harvey's expression, but then said, "But I saw her talking to Philip, I think." He halted a second as he looked at Harvey hesitantly. "I think they left together, too."

His hands fisted along his hips. "Do you know who this Philip is?"

"Yeah," the man nodded skeptically. "Hey, is everything okay?"

"Where I could find him?" Harvey asked instead.

"Um—" the bartender hesitated, "Uh—why are you asking for him?"

"I'm gonna ask him a few questions, Eddie," Harvey grated through his teeth.

"What's this?" Philip Fields asked as he walked out from Jackson & Co.'s building on 50th Street in the business district, "Am I'm being sued or something?"

Ignoring his question, Harvey asked directly, "Where is Donna?"

The man looked lost for a second, "Who?"

"Donna Paulsen," he hissed, approaching him closer, "You were seen leaving Ben's Den with her." Recognition lit the man's eyes, as he looked at Harvey. "What did you do to her?" he asked, fury firing his voice.

"Whoaa..."The man took a step back. "I didn't do anything to her." The investment banker took another step, getting in his personal space back. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"We don't know," Harvey said curtly, "She's been missing since last night."

"Oh."

"They say you left with her," Harvey said, his tone now heavily accusing.

The man, on the other hand, chose to ignore that. "I left Eddie's with her. Then we parted our ways. I—" he halted, giving Harvey a look, as if to evaluate the situation and Harvey himself, then he said, "I asked her to come with me but she declined." He sighed briefly. "I asked to walk her to home then, but she declined that too, said she wanted to be alone." He paused again. "She was having a hard night."

His jaw clenched, as he nodded. "What did you talk about?" Harvey continued his interrogation.

"Mostly about her boss," the man answered with a ghost of smile on his features, then continued, "What a dick! Poor girl, she just should dump that son of bitch and move on."

His jaw twitched, and his hands started to itch, then Harvey realized his hands had pulled into fists again. "What did she say?"

The man shrugged. "You know the usual. It's not about what they say, more about what they don't."

Harvey really wanted to hit the guy. "You saw her last in front of Ben's Den?" he asked instead.

"Yes," the man answered with strong emphasis. "If you check the security cameras, you'll see it," then he frowned, "By the way, who the hell are you?"

He ignored his last question. "I will check it."

"Good," he said, "Now, I'd like to stay and chat further but I need to go in." He extended his card. "That's my card. Give me a call once she's turned up."

Giving the man another look, Harvey took the card.

The man then turned and walked away, and Harvey called Mike. "Did you call Judge Patterson?" he asked as soon as the phone was answered.

His associate didn't falter. "Yeah, she's pulling some strings with the police. We'll have it in half an hour, I believe."

He nodded. "Good. Ask for Ben's Den's security cameras too. I want to see them."

"What?"

"The pub on the corner of 48th," he told Mike the full address then asked, "Did you start calling hospitals?"

"Yeah, Katherine is making the calls," Mike informed him, "but nothing has turned up so far."

As he nodded, he heard a chirp. "I have another call," Harvey said, "I'll keep in touch."

He took the other line. "Yes?"

"Mr. Specter?" a female voice asked.

"Yes," Harvey said again.

"Mr. Specter," the anonymous caller said, "I'm calling from New York General," his heart stopped beating for a moment. "You need to come here ASAP."

He had always hated hospitals, hated the pristine white assaulting his corneas, hated the heavy antiseptic scent burning his nostrils, hated feeling lost and confused, hated seeing how weak everybody was in reality, that the power they thought they had was just an illusion that disintegrated rapidly within these walls.

The hard sole of his designer shoes echoed on the floor as Harvey ran to the reception desk, his mind hardly processing what was happening. "Donna Paulsen," he said out of the breath to the woman waiting behind the desk, "She must be in the E.R."

The receptionist nodded, as she took the phone silently, and a look of pity lit her eyes. Harvey almost snapped at her not to look at him like that. "Dr. Anderson," she said softly, "Mr. Specter is here for Ms. Paulsen."

A few seconds later, the doctor walked to them interrupting his drilling of the receptionist for answers. "I'm sorry, I can't, sir. Dr. Anderson will answer—" she shot a relief look at the approaching doctor, "Dr. Anderson."

The middle aged doctor extended his hand. "Harry Anderson," he introduced himself.

"Harvey Specter," he took the hand. "Is Donna okay?"

The doctor nodded as he led him away from the reception desk. "Yes, she's okay," he replied. "Someone found her, and called 911, and you're the emergency contact listed on her phone—"Anderson explained, motioning him to the left side.

Harvey closed his eyes and let out a breath. "What's happened? She told—" his voice faltered a second, "she told me she was bloody."

The doctor gave him a look. "She's fine, Mr. Specter. And she was lucky," he said ominously.

Harvey felt like screaming. "What happened?"

Anderson seized him again. "Mr. Specter, what's your relation to Ms. Paulsen?"

The advocate and former DA in him recognized the signs; he had seen this many times, he had heard this many times but the man in him, the man who had seen Donna just last night, had seen her walking away from him, didn't want to believe it. "Doctor, what happened to her?"

"She was," the doctor started empathically with the years of practice, "raped."

Harvey held the wall, and tried to breathe.

The world was a blur, and he still couldn't believe this was happening to them. It happened to other people, the people he saw in the D.A's offices, or pro-bono cases, this happened in the newspaper's inner pages, or in the gutters of the city, but it couldn't be happening to Donna, not to Donna, please not to Donna. "She's fine," the doctor repeated again. Harvey snuck a glance at the reflecting glass panel next to him and saw his white face staring back at him.

"She—she said there was blood," the advocate in him emerged, and he questioned, voice strained, and stern, trying to keep control of his erratic feelings and his breath.

The doctor nodded, his face a mask of professionalism. "Tissue damage," he halted giving Harvey a side glance, "sustained in the assault."

The world shook again, and his control slipped. He clutched the first thing he found, the armchair next to him, and dropped himself into it. "She—" he forced out, voice barely above a whisper, faltering and cracked, "she didn't remember—"

"We took some blood for tests," the doctor answered, "I suspect drug facilitated sexual assault—"

"Did you talk with her?"

"No," the man shook his head. "She wasn't in any condition to answer questions when she was brought in. We sedated her. She's sleeping now."

"Did you call the police?" he asked, standing up, and fired at once, "Did you run the rape kit? Her clothes? Where are they? Did you send them for analysis?"

The man put a hand on his arm. "Mr. Specter," the doctor said soothingly, "We're doing everything according to the standard procedure. And we'll need to have her permission for the rest. We called her family, as well." Harvey pulled his arm back as the doctor went on, "and the police will be here momentarily." He paused for a second. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

Harvey glared at the man. "I want to see her."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "You're not noted on the release forms and in her condition, visitation has been restricted. I've told you as much as I'm allowed. You'll need to wait for the police for anything else."

The doctor walked away. He sat on the chair again, dropped his head back and closed his eyes. A woman wailed somewhere, and he heard the running footsteps and the metallic sound of rolling stretchers as shouts of 'I'm losing him, I'm losing him,' reached to his ear. He muted the voices, hearing only what was passing through his mind, 'I'm so sorry, Harvey' she said as he watched her walk away from him…

His telephone chirped. He looked at the caller. "Mike," he answered.

"I found her—"

"In New York General," he completed for him.

"Yeah—" Mike agreed, "How did you know?"

"They called me."

"They called you?"

"I was her emergency contact," he explained, as something seized in his chest again.

"Oh," Mike said, "We're coming, we'll be on our way—."

"We?"

"Katherine and I," Mike clarified.

Katherine… Harvey thought about it for a second, and lowered his voice. "Don't," he ordered. "Tell her that I'm here, and that everything is okay. Don't tell anyone else anything either."

"Harvey," the younger man asked worriedly, "is everything okay?"

"No," he said, "everything is not okay, Mike." He stopped seeing a police officer approaching him. "Drop Katherine, and come here ASAP."

"Mr. Specter," the dark haired man greeted him as Harvey stood up.

"Officer Rimes," the policeman introduced himself, and added with an empathic look, "My sympathies." Harvey nodded at the man curtly. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Wordlessly, Harvey nodded again. "When did you arrive at the hospital?"

"Ten minutes ago."

The policeman took his notepad and started writing. "How did you learn about the incident?"

"The hospital called me," Harvey responded, "I was her emergency contact."

The older man's eyes lifted at him over the rim of his notepad. "When was the last time you saw Ms. Paulsen?"

Instinct told him to say last night before she left the office, but the advocate in him knew better than that. A few hours and Officer Rimes would have the security tapes for the buildings around her apartment and he was sure whose face was going to end up there. "Last night," he said, "In front of her apartment."

"What did you talk about?" Rimes questioned further, the tip of his tongue picking out as his brows furrowed into a frown.

Harvey's voice turned sterner. "We didn't," he stated.

The policeman's eyes lifted up at him again, as he arched one eyebrow. "You didn't?"

"No," Harvey confirmed, "I only saw her as she left her apartment."

"Why didn't you talk to her, Mr. Specter?"

"I decline to answer."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?"

"In the office," he answered.

"In the office?"

"We work at the some company."

"What was the topic of that conversation?"

"I decline to answer."

"You're a lawyer, aren't you, Mr. Specter?"

His chin twitched. "I fail to see the purpose of this question."

"I'm just trying to determine the nature of your relation to Ms. Paulsen." Harvey looked at the man, his face blank, as if carved from stone, and the policeman asked again, "Mr. Specter, what's your relation to Ms. Paulsen?"

The question turned in his mind over and over, as the policeman looked back at him with the same expression, grim and hard, empathy obviously forgotten.

What was his relation to Donna?

It was a question that he had heard many times, and now standing there, Harvey understood that it was also the only question he had never been able to find a suitable answer to. Through ten years, Donna had been many things to him; his confident, his mentor, his Girl Friday, even his one-time-lover, never-to-mention again, but he had never known what he was to her. "Mr. Specter," the man urged.

His eyes moved from the man to the doors leading to where she lay. "I'm—" Harvey finally answered, "her lawyer."

All right, writing this one was really hard, not just because of the nature of plot, but because of standard health procedures in USA, and without the help of my lovely beta, I'd probably screw it up big time. If you think I still did, though, do not hesitate to tell.

Next, hopefully, will be Donna's side.

Till then, stay well.