Chapter 9

Mike steals a breath, feeling like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders as he exits the court-room, but the relief has come at a cost, and his chest constricts as he navigates to where Donna is sitting, waiting for the news about Stampler.

"They found him guilty."

"I know." She doesn't glance up from her hands, having clawed together enough faith to believe the system would deliver justice. B, but the conviction won't give her closure. Stampler's sentence is meaningless, just like the ramifications for council. Neither of the verdicts will bring Harvey back. It's time to move on, and she pushes up from the wooden seat with a sigh, realizing there's nothing else left to say.

"Donna, wait." Mike grips her elbow lightly, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I need to show you something." She tenses under his hold, and he drops his hand, not wanting to spook her. For weeks, he let her get away with shutting him out, Rachel's worry compounding his guilt, but Harvey had given up his life to protect Donna, and he'd been honouring the sacrifice—keeping her out of danger, but now it's time he made things right. "It won't take long… Please."

She glances away from him, down the hall to the light filtering in through her escape. Mike fought to avenge Harvey's death, but she didn't ask him to. She doesn't owe him anything and being around the man still hurts—maybe more than it did before. He's not a photo that can be stashed away or a piece of jewellery she can take off. Mike's real, a constant reminder that her husband is gone, and she finds his gaze again, a half-hearted apology on her lips, but his pleading expression changes her mind. They've known each other a long time, and she's only seen the look he's wearing a handful of times—when he really needs something. "What is it, Mike?"

"You'll see." He motions in the direction they have to go, relieved when she accepts the explanation, and he falls into step beside her, knowing he can't make up for what happened, but hopefully he can give her a sense of closure. They continue the rest of the way in silence, until he stops them at a large, elaborate wooden door. He isn't going inside the private chambers. This is where his role ends, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, signalling she should go ahead.

His evasiveness makes her nervous, and she doesn't budge. "Mike, what's going on?"

He smiles gently, the feeling coiled in his chest bittersweet. She'll have all the answers she's searching for soon enough, but it's not his place to reveal them. He doesn't know what will happen when she walks through that door, but the choices they've each made have carried them this far, and he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "I love you, Donna. Remember that, okay?"

He pulls back, and she feels even more anxious, uncertainty burning a hole through her resolve, but he leaves her to face the fear alone, and it's not like the feeling is new. She's been on her own since the night she lost her husband, and she takes a deep breath, steeling herself, because at the end of the day, she has nothing else left to lose.

Her fingers close around the jewelled handle, and she pushes forward, her heart racing as she takes in the richly decorated room, and the man who doesn't belong in it, leaning casually against a large Oakwood desk. He's wearing a timid smile, but her lips are numb, unable to return the gesture as her vision greys around the edges. A rush of dizziness threatens to drag her down, but she's suddenly jolted back by two firm hands latching onto her.

"Easy. I've got you."

She has trouble focusing, but there's no mistaking his voice—the smell of his cologne as it washes over her. Harvey Specter can't be replicated this perfectly by her imagination, and she blinks through her confusion, hot tears spilling across her gaze as she flings her arms around his neck, squeezing him against her body.

He grips her tightly, conflicted, almost afraid of crushing her thinner frame. The notable difference stabs through him, worry leaching off his relief, but the apprehension keeps him clinging on because God, he's missed her. It's been a lifetime since he held her, and he wishes they could stay like this—that he didn't have to explain himself or why they had to be separated. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. She's all he thought about while he was under the FBI's protective detail. Each day he spent agonising over whether he had made the right decision, and if she was okay. He knew what he was putting her through, hated himself for it, and the guilt gnawed away at him. Now Stampler's been convicted, he's hoping the hardest part is over—that Donna can understand and forgive him, but when he forces himself back, swiping his thumb over her gaunt cheeks, he's not sure how he's going to forgive himself. "I'm so sorry, Donna."

The whisper wraps around her confusion as she stares at him, wondering why he's apologizing—how it's possible he's standing in front of her at all. She went to his funeral, is still mourning his death, but half of her has no interest in getting answers. He's here. That's all she cares about... or it would be, except the way he's looking at her—eyes filled with regret—chokes the question out of her. "How?"

He swallows thickly, knowing it's better to admit the truth and come clean before she lands at the conclusion herself. "The FBI had the firm under surveillance. When I woke up after the surgery, they were already waiting to take me into protective custody."

She absorbs the information, realizing he means witness protection, not some screw up at the hospital or miraculous return. He's been alive, hauled up in a safe house somewhere, while she's been going through the worst two months of her life, and the guilt in his expression can only mean one thing—that he chose to leave. "No..." she utters the word to herself, refusing to believe he went voluntarily. The man she married would have fought, done everything in his power to stay with her, but the moisture glimmering behind his eyes challenges the belief and betrayal pits in her stomach as she takes a step back. "You did this."

The sudden distance between them is more crippling than the accusation, but he stays where he is because she's right. Initially, he'd been adamant against going into custody—had flat out refused, only to be coerced by his handler reminding him of Drake's threats. He almost lost Donna twice, and was faced with an impossible choice, but no one forced his hand. He went willingly to protect her, and after everything they've been through, he's not going to start lying to her now. "I did it to keep you safe. We had to make sure there was no chance of Stampler targeting you or anyone else."

We.

The implication rings in her head, Mike's word's flooding back to her.

I love you, Donna...

Of course he goddamn knew. She'd pushed Mike away, and he'd let her—no doubt warring with his own guilt, and she stiffens, her eyes stinging at the onslaught of revelations that keep knocking the wind out of her. "So, Mike knew… Did Rachel?"

He flinches at anger vibrating through her voice, but he knows without a shadow of any doubt, Mike didn't tell his wife, for the same reason he didn't—to protect their family, and he shakes his head. If he had his way, Mike wouldn't have been dragged into the mess either. The FBI went over his head on the matter, and he was livid, but as soon as Mike signed the disclosure agreement, the wheels were in motion and he couldn't stop them. "I didn't want Mike involved, Donna. That wasn't my choice."

She sucks in sharply, torn in two by her emotions—the anger she's been harbouring that now seems justified, but also the elation that Harvey's standing in front of her, alive and able to defend himself. She thought she'd never see him again, but here he is, suffocating her with all the reasons why she loves him; his honour, his loyalty, his goddamn stubbornness, and a humourless laugh smothers the sob building in her chest. All she wants to do is wrap herself back up in his arms, but she pulls herself together, fighting the urge to break down. The timing of his appearance obviously isn't a coincidence, but she doesn't know if that means he's been released from custody or he's going to disappear again, and her voice wavers, trembling with uncertainty. "What happens now?"

He catches the flash of fear in her gaze, and wishes more than anything he could take her home, but it won't be long before he can meet her there, she just needs to trust him—the realization she might not be able to twisting uncomfortably in his chest. "I still have to take care of a couple of things, but I'll be at the apartment as soon as I can."

"Okay." Relief floods through her, but she doesn't want to leave, terrified if she walks out the door she won't see him again, and her feet refuse to cooperate, keeping her trapped in place.

He reads her hesitation, his gaze swimming as he risks reaching out his hand, blinking fast to stop himself losing the slither of control he's gripping onto.

She stares down, tentatively brushing his fingers, until he firms the hold with a gentle tug, and she moves into the embrace, loosely clutching his shirt. But she knows they're only prolonging the inevitable, and breaks the contact first, trying to protect herself against having to walk away. "I'll see you at home."

He nods, and she forces a watery smile, her legs shaking as she leaves him inside the room, her emotions threatening to spill over when Mike approaches her with a coffee.

"Donna, I—"

"Don't!" she snaps the warning, her heels clicking around the peace offering.

Mike winces as she storms away from him, but knows better than to go after her. It's understandable that she'll need time to process everything, and when Harvey appears in the doorway, he hands over the beverage he's cupping, taking in the man's concerned expression with a heavy sigh. He'd warred with himself over how much of Donna's struggle he should reveal, eventually deciding it was more important to get Harvey back home to fix the situation, but it's blatantly clear he'd edged carefully around the truth, and he dips his head, ready to apologise, when Harvey stops him.

"It's not your fault, Mike." He takes a mouthful of the beverage, detesting the sweetness, but forcing it down past his guilt. The only thing Mike did wrong was signing the non-disclosure agreement and involving himself, but if he hadn't, they wouldn't be standing here right now. Mike's help has been instrumental in putting Stampler away, and he's not sure he'll ever be able to properly thank the man, but he offers his reassurance. "You should go home, be with Rachel. She'll understand."

Mike isn't so sure, having been in a similar situation once before, and this time he hadn't just lied. He'd watched two people he cares about suffer and didn't put a stop to it. But the ordeal is over now. There's no more hiding, and Stampler can't hurt them anymore. Deep down he knows they did the right thing, he just hopes Rachel will see it that way too.

…

…

The thought of breaking the truth to his wife carries Mike home, his hands itching as he tosses his keys in the bowl by the door, stepping into the lounge where Rachel is waiting for him. They'd talked about her going to the hearing, being there for Donna, but things have been so strained recently, he'd convinced her that today wasn't the time to try and breach the distance. He knew if Stampler was convicted, there would be a lot of revelations coming to light, and now, he needs to put his own marriage first.

"Hey, how did it go?" Rachel glances up from the book she'd been using as a prop to mask her thoughts. Ever since Mike left this morning, she's been questioning the decision to stay at home, wanting to be there for Donna, but not sure how. She's had her phone within arm's reach, just in case the woman called, but the screen hasn't lit up once, and she takes in Mike's stricken expression with an apprehensive breath. "What happened?"

He moves further into the room, dumping the bag strapped across his shoulder. He was worried Donna might break the news first, and he's grateful she didn't, but that doesn't make a confession any easier.

"There's something I need to tell you."

She places the novel down, her body tensing as he lowers himself onto the couch. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he seems to be waging an internal conversation, and she covers his knee with a gentle but serious squeeze. "Mike, you're scaring me."

He swallows, deciding to let the truth blunder it's way out. "Harvey was at the trial."

She frowns, not sure if he's being cryptic or means something else. "I don't understand."

"He survived the shooting and has been in witness protection." He twists his hands together, being as straightforward as he can with the explanation."We've been working with the FBI, building the case to put Stampler away, and when they turned over a conviction today, the feds released Harvey from custody. He's back, Rach." The smile on his lips is soft but genuine. There may have been a cost to the operation, but they're also getting something in return. "Donna was there, she knows."

Her eyes widen in shock, trying to grapple with what he's telling her. She'd watch him grieve the loss of his best friend, but his behavior had always felt off to her. Every time she pressed him, he didn't want to talk, and she put his evasiveness down to just needing space, but now she knows why, and the realization hurtles through her. "He's alive... and you knew."

Mike nods, being completely open now he isn't restricted by the feds or any danger lurking. "Three days after the funeral… The FBI contacted me, and I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before they would tell me anything. I found out he was alive, and that's when they asked for my help in nailing Stampler."

"They asked?" she accuses, not sure what she's supposed to be feeling or how to react. On one hand, she's surged with relief, beyond happy that the shot hadn't been fatal, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Harvey being alive this whole time. She knew nothing about Mike going after the Mayor or being involved in a federal case. He kept his involvement a secret, and what's worse, he put himself in danger when he could have trusted her, and Donna for that matter, to help. She had to watch her best friend mourn the loss of her husband, the man Donna has been in love with for over a decade, and all Mike had to do was come forward to save her from the pain she was in. "You saw what losing Harvey did to Donna, and you didn't say anything. Not one word."

He can hear the anger lacing her words, finding his own voice with a waiver. "I know." He's well aware of the pain he could have absorbed if the stakes hadn't been so high, but both Donna and Harvey had nearly lost their lives. He wasn't going to be the reason anyone else got hurt. "If Stampler found out Harvey was still alive, he would have gone after Donna first, then Marcus or the kids. She had to look like she was grieving."

"She was grieving," Rachel gapes at him, still not able to fathom how he or Harvey could have weighed up the odds, and decided it was better to have Donna go through the ordeal of losing her husband. They could have found another way. At the very least, not waited right up until the moment a conviction was passed. "What if Stampler had been cleared?"

"That was never going to happen." He and Harvey didn't risk everything to come out swinging on a whim, but that doesn't change the fact his wife has every right to be angry. If Donna had been the one to be taken into custody and he'd been left to console Harvey without knowing the truth, he would be just as protective. The difference is Harvey wouldn't have been okay. Donna suffered the worst out of anyone, but if anything had happened to her instead of Harvey, then they'd be sitting here grieving the loss of the two people. "I wanted to tell you, god, Rach, you have no idea how much—"

The apology wedges in his throat, not sure there are words to make her understand, but she needs to know he did the best he could with the situation that had been thrust on him.

"What about you?" She wipes at the tears stinging her gaze, her frustration not just over Donna. He'd put himself in harm's way, had been in more danger than anyone playing both sides, and the anguish she's seeing in his expression is the first sign of the toll the ordeal has taken. All these weeks and he's been dealing with everything alone, the pain in his eyes softening her resolve. "What if something had happened to you?" she asks again, steering her anger towards Donna's husband instead. "Harvey didn't have to agree to any of this."

"No, but if he hadn't… we'd all still be in danger, and Stampler would be in his seat because of a rigged election." The defense isn't an excuse, but it is the outcome Harvey had set-out to achieve, and the best possible result. "I'm not saying he made the right call…" He lowers his head with a sigh."But he did this for all of us, and he didn't want me involved. I signed the disclosure before he knew anything about it." Not only had Harvey not wanted him involved, the man had been livid with his handler when he'd found out, but by that point his only two choices were to back out, knowing what he did or try help and bring his best friend home. "I had to, Rach. He could have been gone months, longer, if I hadn't helped. He needed to come back, for Donna, for us."

She can't say she's happy, but she is starting to get a sense of the impossible choice he'd faced. One of the reasons she fell in love with him in the first place is because he always tries to do the right thing, and even though his conscience had landed them in trouble the past, he wouldn't be the man she married if he didn't put the people he cares about above his own turmoil, and she can't fault him for trying to protect their family, even if she wishes above all else, he'd shared the burden. "Donna and Harvey are going to be okay, we will be too." She doesn't know how to explain the feeling nestled inside her—the hope that they can all find their way back in spite of everything that's happened, and that all their sacrifices haven't been in vain.

…

...

Donna's gaze swims with tears as she sits on the couch, huddled over a glass of wine, and nothing—holding onto the memory of Harvey wrapped around, his voice scratching her ear with heartache and regret. For months all she's wanted to do is hold him, bury herself in his arms and never let go, her heart broken with the need for just one touch, to hear something stupid fall out of his mouth—anything. She was granted her wish today, only to have it soured by his guilty admission.

He's been fine, safe, and out of harm's way this entire time. Living his life while she fought to find a reason to keep going on with hers. He left her, but something stronger and softer than anger pulses through her body when she hears his keys jingle in the door.

He's home, where he's supposed to be, and she takes a sip of alcohol, trying to calm her racing nerves.

Harvey rounds the corner, wracked with exhaustion as his eyes fall on his wife, his relief mixing with concern as he breathes her in. She's dwarfed by the couch and a large sweater, her pale features standing out against the dark leather. She's been crying, something he'd worried about endlessly during the nights he wasn't with her. He's never been able to stand seeing her upset, but not seeing her was worse. Imagining her alone with her grief had been unexpected torture, but he's here now, and he throws his keys down on the bench, moving towards the sofa. "I'm sorry I took so long."

"It's okay." She forces a smile as he sits beside, feeling the weight of his gaze wash over her, and she belatedly thinks she should have made more of an effort—tried to dress up for the occasion. But there isn't really an outfit in her closet that fits 'widow turns ex-widow', and she sets aside her glass, turning around on the leather cushion. He on the other hand looks good. His muscles are slightly more defined than she remembers, probably from working out while he was cooped up inside, but she doesn't dwell on who took better care of themselves. She just wants to feel the comfort of him smothering her, and he's obviously thinking the same because he opens his arms, and she wordlessly sinks into them, leaning her head into the soft beat under her ear—a sound she never thought she'd hear again. "Where were you?"

He presses his lips to her hair, wishing they didn't have to go into the details tonight. As far as he's concerned, all that matters is they're together, but she deserves answers—he owes her that much. "Arlington ."

The location stings, the notion he'd only been a few hours away harder to accept than if he'd been flown halfway across the world. Rationally, she knows it makes sense that he would've stayed nearby. He was working with Mike, so they would have been in close contact, and she swallows thickly, wondering when the younger lawyer found out, and trying to piece together the worst night of her life "When did you leave?"

"A few hours after I was admitted." The wound had been a clean shot, worse than it looked, and all he'd needed was a blood transfusion and a few stitches. The biggest delay was his refusal to go into custody, but as soon as he'd signed the papers they'd whisked him out. He sighs, running his fingers through Donna's hair, and frowning when she tenses.

"The doctor said—"

She stops, unable to grapple with the false version of events she'd been led to believe. Her hands had been covered in Harvey's blood, her clothes stained red, and the ambulance ride is still seared in her memory. The surgeon had been succinct and precise with his lie, and she clutches the fabric of Harvey's sweater, as if the grip will somehow wash away the anguish she felt having her whole world destroyed.

His own breath hitches as he squeezes her tighter. It wasn't until after he'd been on-route that the full consequences of his decision had slammed him, and hard. He spent the first two weeks in the safe-house sick and unable to eat, picturing his funeral—the pain he was causing her, and if it hadn't been for the FBI bringing Mike in, he's not sure if he would have been able to push through. As much as he'd been adamant against involving the man, he found his strength knowing he had a connection to Donna. Mike reminded him the fastest way to see his wife again was to pull himself together and work with the feds. So, he did everything they asked—the mandatory counselling session, rehab for his injury. He played by their rules and trusted the bureau, because that was the only way to get back home.

"I said no." He lifts his misty gaze to the ceiling, recalling how determined he'd been to stay with her that night. Before his handler had bluntly laid out the facts. "They told me dropping the case wasn't an option anymore. That if I made it through the surgery, Stampler was going to force a trial and blackmail the firm to lose, targeting you, Marcus… whoever was valuable leverage."

His voice wavers, and she knows the hesitation is because he would have backed down if it hadn't been for the imminent threat to his family. A promise that was reinforced by Ryan because of her mistake. Jessica hadn't covered her tracks either, and yet, she'd been the one punished, kept on the outs while Mike had been allowed to help. "I could have handled it." She lets go of him, tears of frustration stinging her gaze as she pushes up. "You could have trusted me."

He reaches for her waist, bundling the loose fabric to stop her pulling away. When his handler had presented him with his options, he wasn't just thinking about the shooting. His mind had returned to the night he'd found her near hypothermic on the roof at Capstone Law—put on display for him to see. He'd stayed awake for hours after he'd gotten her home safely, listening to the quiet sound of her breathing, and he promised himself, never again, but then she wound up staring down the barrel of a gun, and when the FBI confronted him, he knew he couldn't protect her without their help. He let her down twice, he wasn't going to make the same mistake a third time. "It wasn't about trust," he tells her gently. "I couldn't risk you getting hurt."

The heat from his palm keeps her still, and she swallows, understanding he acted with noble intentions, but shielding the truth hadn't kept her out of harm's way—it broke her. "I got hurt, Harvey. It just wasn't because of Stampler."

The rawness behind her voice cuts through him, and he isn't sure what to say, if he even has the right to keep defending his actions. If their situations had been reversed, he doesn't know if he could have mustered the strength she did, but he can't stand the thought of spending another night alone, and wears his vulnerability openly for her to see. "Give me a chance to fix this, Donna, please."

Her heart stutters at the tears forming behind his gaze, at the assumption she would turn him away, when she just needs to hold him close. She might be struggling with her emotions, but she hasn't strayed from his touch since he arrived home, and she doesn't want to. Forgiveness can wait, tonight she wants to go to bed and fall asleep in the arms of her husband.

She offers her hand, silently offering a truce, and he accepts the gesture, moving wordlessly up off the couch, following her lead towards their bedroom. A place that used to be their sanctuary, but as she flicks on light, he's hit by everything that's missing. Photos of the two of them, art they'd picked out together—all the memories he's been holding onto are gone, and he glances at the drawer where his clothes should be, realizing it's probably empty, too.

His life was put on hold, but hers wasn't.

She thought he wasn't coming back, removing him piece by piece to try and move on, and he has no right to feel the swell of pain that expands in his chest, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.

"There are some boxes in the closet." She breaks the awkwardness first, feeling guilty but not sure what to do with the urge to apologise, still too hurt to act sorry. Looking at constant reminders of him had been comforting in the beginning, but when they'd become too painful, she packed them away. She did what she had to, but winces when his lips brush against her temple.

"It's okay." He does his best to ease the tension, knowing none of this is her fault. His way of coping would have been different. He wouldn't have been able to let her go so easily, but it isn't fair to compare, and he forces a smile, brushing her hand—trying to pretend the absence of her wedding ring doesn't send another blow hurtling through him. "You should get into bed. I'll be there in a minute."

His touch leaving her stings, and she watches him as she crawls beneath the covers, her visions blurring while she waits for him to join her.

He stalls at the door to the closet, and shakes his head, deciding to leave the painful hunt until tomorrow. Instead, he strips out of his suit, tosses the pieces over a chair, and moves to be with his wife, sliding in next to her.

As soon as the mattress dips she clings to him, forgetting about everything else, and whispering through the darkness. "I missed you."

His heart skips as he holds her tighter. "Me too."

He doesn't have the first clue how to undo the damage he caused, her smaller frame more vulnerable than he's ever felt it. But she made it through the last two months, and so did he. Now they're together again, his only priority is Donna, and he's going to do everything in his power to earn back her trust.

AN: Thank you so much for all the comments and love for this story! I know the last chapter was a bit of a doozy, but Harvey is here to stay (or is he? hahaha). I was a bit nervous with the direction I decided to go in, but the support has been amazing ❤ Thank you to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for helping me get this out as quickly as possible. And to Beth (NAhavenbb) for so many wonderful ideas! Happy DarveyDay2020 everyone :D