chapter 2

'tell me how to feel about you now'

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Special thanks to alyssa (donnaandharvey) for being the best beta/support system and to ruthie (popexpaulsen) for being a member of the circle of trust. This chapter is dedicated to lamia (donnapaulsen) for a multitude of reasons.

—

Tell me how to feel about you now

Oh, let me know

Do I suffocate or let go?

—

She's pacing.

She's fidgeting. She never fidgets.

She walks to the kitchen, then back the few steps to the couch, then shuffles down the hallway, making the rounds. She can't seem to get her bearings. If the floor opened up underneath her and swallowed her whole, she wouldn't be the least bit surprised.

Usually in times like this, when she's overwhelmed and overtaken and can't quiet her thoughts, she'd be feeling the pavement under her feet as she traipses across the city streets. Not this time.

She's tethered to the inner recesses of her apartment as if she was being physically trapped. Instead, she just feels mentally trapped. She feels confined. So she paces. She wears holes in her floor, attempting to quite literally walk the thoughts out of her mind. They're fighting to get out. She's fighting to get out, but it's no use. She can't fight this any longer. She's been fighting for thirteen years (maybe twelve and half).

As she makes yet another lap around her kitchen table, she goes back to just a few hours ago. Was it only a few hours ago that Thomas knocked on her door? Was it only mere moments ago that she was asked a question that seemed to crawl within her insides and wring her stomach into literal knots?

—

"Who are you to him?"

"So if you can't tell me who you are to him, maybe you can tell me who he is to you."

—

"We're undefinable," she whispers with a shake of her head. "No, you aren't undefinable, Donna, you both just refuse to define it." She breathes out on a sigh. How do you even begin to define something, or rather someone, that holds that much magnitude in your life?

There's can openers and coffee, open cases and late night scotch, fleeting 'i love yous' and purposeful 'i need yous'. There's dancing and longing looks. There's strawberries and whipped cream. There's friendship and longing. There's kisses and protection and confessions. There's car rides, flowers, breakfasts and questioning glances. There's love.

—

"Donna, you told him because you love him."

—

She takes yet another turn around her coffee table and fumbles with the buttons on her cardigan. She's never been this lost before. She's never felt this much before. It feels like she's standing on the edge of a cliff of her own making, attempting to decide whether she should just jump or steadily make the climb back down the mountain. Stay the course or take the leap? So many questions she can't answer tonight. She doesn't like that. She always has the answers.

"Except when it comes to Harvey," she rasps out.

Harvey. "Oh God, Harvey," she whispers as tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she remembers exactly what is going on outside of the door she's barricaded herself behind. First, the firm was being sued because of her mistake. Now, it's Harvey. It's Harvey that sits in an ethics hearing where he has the potential to lose the one thing in his life that makes him, him.

As she wears yet another hole in the floor of her kitchen with her pacing, she wrings her hands and then wipes away the one tear that she let slip out of frustration. Harvey could lose everything he's worked for. Hell, Harvey could lose everything they've worked for.

—

"We just made partner."

—

She couldn't bring herself to go. She couldn't stomach sitting in that room, watching Harvey face off against Daniel Hardman. Again. She couldn't watch him lose everything. Especially not when the cogs on the wheels of her brain are jammed to a screeching halt (while simultaneously feeling like they're spinning so fast they might snap). She just wanted to protect him. She always just wants to protect him.

He protected her. He went to Thomas. He went to Thomas and threw himself on the tracks for her, begging Thomas to help tie him down. She realizes then that, of course she knew what that meant. That meant Harvey would lay down his life for her. She knew that. But, how do you convince the man you're seeing that there's another man in your life that takes up space? That there's another man that you can't seem to cut out of you?

Well, she figured out how to say that didn't she? God, what must Thomas think? After all this?

—

"But then Harvey came to me, and all he seemed to care about is you."

—

She continues her loops around her couch, narrowly avoiding the corner of her end table, and twists her left hand into her thigh. She needs something tangible. She needs to feel something other than the swirling whirlwind of emotions that are cascading through her mind. With a deep breath she makes a decision. She can't do this anymore. She just can't.

This is it. This is the final straw. This is the leap off the cliff. She always thought she'd be leaping off the edge of this precipice with Harvey. Instead, she's making the decision to jump alone.

She loves him, of that much she's certain. Harvey's a part of her. He'll always hold a piece of her heart, but she can't keep dancing this dance. She can't keep continuing to walk three steps forward just for Harvey to walk them two steps backward.

She thinks she could be happy with Thomas. Thomas was a good man. He was solid and strong and comfortable. He cared for her, surely, but more importantly, he wanted her. And he told her so. Often. She felt wanted by Thomas. She can't even remember the last time she felt wanted by Harvey. Needed? Sure. Protected? Yes. Wanted? Not since she felt him kiss her back that hazy night in her office. The night when she just had to know.

Now, she knew. But knowing isn't enough, and feeling all this turmoil is more than enough. She's going to choose happiness this time. "Well, happy enough," she whispers. She can be happy enough with Thomas, can't she?

As she makes one final loop around her couch, she finally stops. She sits.

The finality.

She feels it.

She tucks her legs underneath herself while literally and metaphorically cozying up to the idea that the line has been drawn in the sand. Happy enough. And, happy enough sounds a hell of a lot better than miserable without.

—

"Donna… Donna - please"
"I love you Harvey."

—

Lifting herself slightly off the couch, she reaches for her long forgotten glass of wine and takes a sip, feeling the burn, though it doesn't burn nearly as harsh as the thought of having to remove the Harvey shaped piece of her soul that has long since taken up residence. Her fragile heart and that piece of her soul will just have to learn how to coexist in the knowledge that they'll be separate from now. That they'll no longer be a united front, but two separate entities.

She can do that, can't she?

As the swirling and twirling thoughts in her brain finally start to settle, she takes yet another sip of the red wine she loves and decides that tomorrow is the beginning of a new journey, and for now it's enough.

She downs the remainder of her wine glass and takes the all too familiar walk to her kitchen, places her wine glass in the sink and prepares herself for a restless night sleep. Removing a piece of yourself takes effort and this effort will be in the form of many restless nights.

As she trudges to her bedroom, she passes one last fleeting look at her front door. The front door, the metaphorical barricade she's been hiding behind all evening. She thinks of all the times Harvey has come knocking, seeking comfort, seeking her advice. She remembers whipped cream haziness, shredded resignation letters and all the times she'd wished he'd come knocking. She sighs.

Making her way into her bedroom, she settles herself in bed. She rearranges herself against the pillow and attempts to distract herself with the most recent novel she's reading. She knows it's a lost cause, but she needs the distraction. Even though she'd decided happy enough is enough, she still worries about the consequences of the ethics hearing. She doesn't like not knowing things.

She hasn't touched her phone all evening, but she's not about to pick it up now. She hates not knowing things but after everything she's been through with her thoughts tonight, she's not in a place to speak to anyone, let alone Harvey, who she knows has attempted to ring her at least three times.

Resting against the headboard, she finds her place within the fictional world of the story she's residing in, which somehow, doesn't seem nearly as interesting as where her mind has taken her tonight. Just as she gets to the end of the page, she hears it.

Knock, Knock
Knock, Knock
Knock, Knock
Knock, Knock

—

You keep me up with your silence

Take me down with your quiet

Of all the weapons you fight with

Your silence is the most violent

—

Thank you so much for reading! This chapter took a lot out of me and I'd love to hear your thoughts! I love you all!