Rated: M
AN/Warnings: Nothing too heavy but there is an implication of non-consensual sex. I wanted to throw a warning in just to be on the safe side :)
XVII.
Donna takes a deep and unsteady breath, staring at Harvey's front door. She's not the kind of person who balks at difficult decisions. Or at least never used to be, and she wipes her eyes, making sure they're finally dry.
Lily had passed suddenly.
A heart attack while she was teaching one of her art classes- doing what she loved, which is only a small comfort to Donna.
Although she'd never met the woman, tears of empathy had poured out after talking to Marcus. She'd been in the kitchen when he'd called, making lunch and preparing for her leave to end. She'd been both excited and nervous over the prospect of going back to work, but things had finally seemed like they were on the upward swing when Harvey's brother had delivered the shocking news.
She'd abandoned the food not able to stomach it. For the first time in over a decade, Marcus had reached out to her after his immediate family. Harvey knew something before she did, and while that hadn't been important, the repeated sound of his answering service clicking over had left her unsure what to do.
She'd waited, hoping he would get in touch, but her phone had remained dark, the screen only lighting up with her failed attempts to contact him.
She'd left things as long as she could, in case he needed some space, but concern drove her here, and she braces herself against whatever is waiting inside. She doesn't knock, using her key instead. If Harvey had wanted her here, he would have asked, but that doesn't deter her from entering. She's always anticipated his needs better than he can decipher them, and she blinks at the darkness drenching his apartment. For a moment she thinks he might not even be home, but then the stale smell of whiskey washes over her, and she notices a soft glow coming from around the corner.
She shuts the door, her feet leading cautiously to where he's sat hunched on the couch. There's a near-empty bottle of Macallan with no glass on the coffee table, and she's not sure if he even registers her presence, but he doesn't so much as flinch when she sits beside him.
"I'm so sorry, Harvey."
A rough sound escapes his throat, something her heart can't digest.
She knows he's in pain and tentatively reaches out, running her hand over his shoulder and guiding him towards her. He doesn't resist, his damp lashes fluttering against the crook of her neck, and she squeezes him tightly.
She's never lost a parent and he's lost both. She can't imagine the sense of isolation he's feeling, but he isn't alone. She's here. Ready to help however she can.
He breathes in her scent with a shudder, the familiarity almost too much to handle. He's drunk, on the verge of letting the flood gates open, but he isn't ready for it to all come barreling out. Years of estrangement and anger, grieving his father, and now his mother- it's all buried too deeply. He forgave Lily but there are still words that were left unsaid, things he'll never get the chance to say that threaten his flimsy composure. He's teetering on the brink of losing it, and pushes Donna's arms down, trapped like a deer caught in headlights under her pleading gaze.
Don't shut her out. That's what she's silently begging, and the pressure is suffocating, causing something inside him to snap. She's all he has left in this world. He can't lose her too and seeks out her lips, prising them open and drowning himself inside her mouth. She gasps at the force but he swallows the burst of air doing anything he can to tune out his loss. He sinks on-top of her, pushing down with his weight and withdrawing his tongue in a desperate bid to seek out more. He lands at her neck, scraping his teeth over the exposed skin and sucking her pulse point, groaning as desire replaces the emptiness that's been pitted in his chest all night.
Donna closes her eyes tightly, trying to calm the panic racing through her. His touch is like fire setting her needs alight, but fear is at the helm of her hesitation. She wants to do this for him, with him. It's just sex, but her body feels small and inadequate, ambushed beneath his powerful muscles. The last time they did this she'd exuded confidence, brandishing a can of whipped cream like it was a trophy to be won. Now he's moving so fast she can barely keep up, her hands shaking with nowhere to go. He steals them, pinning her wrists into the cushions as he covers her mouth again, and she kisses him back, willing herself to be okay with what's happening
She loves him.
Trusts him.
Her insecurities shouldn't matter when they're here like this, and she tries not to wince when he slides roughly under her sweater, raking over her jutting ribs. He's either too drunk or doesn't care that they're more prominent, but she knows and can't chase the thought out of her head. She counts down in an attempt to disassociate her nerves, telling herself he needs this. A moment outside his pain where he doesn't have to think, only feel. It's within her power to give it to him but she has to relax, focus on finding a respite like he is.
He bunches the knit jumper, his mouth hungry as it devours anywhere he can access. She's perfect beneath him, the yearning to hold something tangible stronger than anything else he can comprehend. Her presence is intoxicating and a dull throb aches inside his trousers. If it weren't for the alcohol at play in his system he'd already be rock hard, and he gropes the swell of her breasts knowing he can get himself there.
A dryness burns her throat as his crotch starts to stiffen, and she breathes in, heat pooling between her legs out of its own violation. Her heart wants to give in but her mind is stuck on how his large hands are dwarfing her chest. When his thumb slips beneath her gapping bra, grazing and pinching her nipple, air stalls in her lungs and she trembles, forcing it out with an involuntary sob.
The sound is loud enough to startle him, his gaze lifting in confusion, and there's no way she can mask it as a sound derived from pleasure.
He knows it wasn't.
His face contorts like it's been hit by a freight train, and he jumps off her so fast he stumbles, knocking violently into the coffee table and sending the objects on its surface flying. The whiskey bottle smashes on impact but he doesn't register the breaking glass or the pain pulsing through his knee.
"Jesus Christ, Donna!" He snaps at her, anguish manifesting as anger and twisting around his guilt. She should have goddamn said something and he despises the small voice that hammers through with a reminder she did. Only a few days ago she'd told him she wasn't ready, and he'd just forced himself on her. It makes him physically sick, and he tears a hand through his hair, swallowing the bile that washes up in his throat.
The turmoil he's in cuts deeper than anything else and she hates herself for complicating what he's going through. He didn't do anything wrong. She's the one who put them in this situation. She's letting him down, not the other way around. "I wanted to, Harvey."
The determination behind her voice almost makes him believe it, but one look at her glistening tears tells him it's bullshit. She's doing it again. Putting his needs above hers and he can't do this. He's not strong enough to look after both of them, too fucking broken to piece it all back together.
"You should go."
He turns to where his phone had been flung, presumably to call for a cab, and she hunches up on her knees steeling herself against his stubbornness. This isn't about whether or not they have sex. He's hurting, and she wants to be here for him like he's been there for her the past few weeks. "I'm not going anywhere."
The insistence doesn't stall his momentum, and she works herself off the couch, reaching to stop him from unlocking the screen. When she'd been at her worst, her instinct had been to push him away, convinced she could handle everything on her own, but she couldn't, and so much has changed between them since then.
"I love you, Harvey." She says it out loud for the first time, hoping the words will lift his gaze, but his eyes stay locked on the device, and her attention drops to where his knuckles are turning white. He's fighting so hard not to let go, but bottling it all up will only make things worse, and she slides her thumb across the taut ridges, coaxing him back to her. "Let me take care of you."
A lump swells in place of any response, flashes of her pinned beneath him refuting the overpowering urge to bury himself in her arms. She hadn't just been uncomfortable. The choked sob that had spilled free sounded terrified and it rings in his ears making him pull out of her grasp. Lily had warned him about rushing into a relationship. The older woman had been afraid Donna wasn't ready, that he wouldn't be able to handle it, and knowing it's the last piece of advice his mother will ever give him burns through his chest with a vengeance.
"How, Donna?" He asks, slamming her with his bitterness. "You can't even take goddamn care of yourself!"
She recoils from the hurtful anger, upset and rattled, but that's not why she distances herself. Even if he is drunkenly spilling the truth, and does see her as a burden, that's not the real reason he's pushing her away. He's doing it to punish himself and reading him so clearly, ironically, gives her the confidence to keep from unraveling in front of him. "You're right. I should go."
She isn't agreeing out of retaliation or to stir a reaction. She knows full well he won't try to stop her and there's no room for misinterpretation as she turns on her heel. As much as it's killing her to walk away, staying will only end in a fight that will fuel his hatred of himself come the morning. It's better they finish this now before they both say something they'll regret.
He stands motionless, his facade slipping beneath a harrowing sense of loss as he watches her leave. It feels like someone ripped his heart open, covered it with a band-aid, then tore it off again. The cold is real, seeping out as if he were slowly bleeding to death, and when the door closes softly, it shatters his frozen veins. He'd promised himself he would show Lily she had nothing to worry about. That Donna being his entire world would keep him from fucking things up, but he managed to screw all three of them over, and he doesn't know which is more painful.
That he just lost everything.
Or that he thought he was worthy of having it all to begin with.
Donna walks through the door to her apartment, a heaviness carrying her into the living room, and a twitch of regret makes her pull out her phone. One of Harvey's biggest fears is people leaving him, but she hadn't acted out of spite. She truly believes this is what he needs right now and sighs, glancing towards the kitchen, his accusation still playing on her mind.
You can't even take care of your goddamn self!
She winces, her stomach growling despite being wound in a tight knot. Not so long ago she wouldn't have bothered to rectify it, going to bed and choosing to sleep instead, but she forces herself through the archway, finding the sandwich she'd abandoned hours earlier and taking the plate out to the sofa.
The lack of freshness doesn't put her off. At least no more than the thought of eating something does, but a few bites in settles her nausea. There's nothing but crumbs left when Mike's name suddenly flashes up on her phone, and she answers, figuring his calls are being screened by Harvey as well. "He just needs some space, Mike."
It's not the reassurance Mike was hoping for and he nods against the receiver, silently cursing his best friend's stubbornness. He'd thought for sure Harvey would let Donna be there for him, but judging by the exhaustion in her voice, that's not the case. "Is he there?"
"No. He's not."
The confirmation propels his worry, and not just for Harvey. The man is suffering, and he feels for the guy, but he's also witnessed how Harvey deals with things. He lashes out and doesn't always think about how those consequences affect the people around him. "Donna, are you okay?"
Her eyes flutter closed, wishing he didn't have to ask. She used to always be okay no matter what Harvey threw at her, but now he and everyone else, including Mike, are looking at her differently. Like she's frail. But that isn't how she feels, not anymore. Every day another piece of the puzzle clicks into place, making her stronger, but she needs people to start trusting her again. "I'm fine."
A heavy silence hangs over the line, and she glances at the empty plate across from her, willing to accept she's also to blame. The lie has been used too many times for it to go unquestioned. If she wants Mike to have faith in her, she needs to be completely honest, not skirt around the sidelines. "Will be." She corrects, adopting a small smile. "I know I scared you, Mike, and I never wanted that, believe me," she exhales slowly, "but I figured out what's important along the way. Family is everything and I'm not planning on letting that go."
He's both touched and relieved by the promise, recognizing a strength and determination that was missing when he'd visited New York. It eases some of his concern, knowing that whatever Harvey's going through, having the new-old Donna back can only be a good thing. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that."
The strain around his tone softens giving her plenty of insight. He's been a constant support, and she's going to do what she can to return the favor. "I'll let you know when to call him."
"Thanks, Donna." His lips curve around the phone, and he glances at Rachel, who's sitting across from him, shrugging with wide, curious eyes. It makes him chuckle. "Hey, I've got someone here who I 'think' wants to talk to you."
Donna hears the playful slap across the line, eagerly awaiting to hear Rachel's voice. She's not sure how much detail she wants to give about everything that happened tonight. She hasn't fully processed it all herself, but the moment Rach asks if she's okay, the words start spilling out, and she remembers why the brunette is her best friend.
Like she'd just told Mike, they're a family.
At one time or another they all need help putting the pieces back together.