Rated: M

AN: Thank to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for teaching me how to use words :D And to Beth (NAhavenbb) for the brilliant ideas. I know this story has a lot of angst, and I really appreciate people sticking with it :) Rest assured, there are lighter times ahead. I'm just as eager to get Darvey back on the right path :) This chapter does come with an M rating (sorry for the spoiler!). As always, thank you for the comments and feedback! Hope everyone is taking care and staying safe ❤

Chapter 11

Harvey tears a hand through his hair, navigating the brightly lit reception area, heart pounding as he searches for someone to give him answers. The nurse who called wasn't able to disclose what happened to Donna over the phone, just that her condition wasn't critical, which in his mind could mean anything. He's been in a fluxing state of panic since she failed to turn up after work. The last time she hadn't responded to his messages she was in trouble, and visions of Stampler seeking revenge had filled his head, leading him to contact anyone he could think of, including his handler at the FBI. When he got word she was in the hospital, he bolted out the door and is still trying to catch his breath as he sinks trembling palms over the counter. "Harvey Specter... My wife was admitted. I was told to come straight here."

"Do you have ID on you, sir?"

He scrambles for his wallet, flipping it open to show the nurse his license—willing her to hurry the goddamn hell up, and tell him what happened.

"Thank you, Mr. Specter." She smiles politely, bringing up his wife's file on the screen in front of him. "Mrs. Paulsen suffered a panic attack that was brought on by severe dehydration. She's been giving fluids, and the doctor has requested she stay in overnight for observation, to run some routine tests on her liver and kidney functions. It doesn't look like there was any permanent damage sustained by the amount of alcohol she consumed, but he wants to make sure there were no other underlying causes that contributed to her condition."

Harvey frowns, none of the explanation making any sense to him. Donna's been having a few extra glasses of wine a night, but for her to go out and get drunk, have a panic attack… He slides his hand up over his face, fighting the sting of moisture pricking his gaze. She's okay—that's what he needs to focus on. "Can I see her?" he asks roughly, clearing his throat.

"She's in ward D, room 407." The woman nods toward the waiting area. "Her friend over there can show you the way."

Harvey's head whips around at the mention of another person, his frustration and panic culminating at boiling point as he leaves the desk, storming towards Ethan. "What the goddamn hell happened!?"

The actor dives his hands into his pockets, steeling himself against the aggressive approach.

When Donna collapsed, he acted fast, scared at seeing her limp, lifeless form, and while he was waiting for the ambulance, the gravity of her situation hit him hard. She's not grieving anymore. Or at least, not in the kind of way getting blind drunk and blowing off steam can fix. She's facing something different this time, and he regrets not paying more attention, but her husband lashing out won't help either. "Harvey, calm down…. She's going to be fine."

He stops just shy of the man, confusion propelling his anger. "I didn't ask if she's going to be fine, I asked what the hell happened?"

Ethan flinches, careful not to mention anything that might make things worse for Donna. When he went in to see her she was mortified. They agreed the kiss was a mistake, and he told her she has no reason to be embarrassed, that she shouldn't give it a second thought. But the last thing she needs is Harvey getting worked up over the incident. "We went out for some drinks, she was tired… I guess they just caught up with her."

"Bullshit." Harvey stares the man down, looking for an actual answer. A couple of drinks don't add up to his wife landing in the emergency room. He can accept she needs space. What he can't understand is how she wound up drunk and in the hospital when she was with someone who should have used an ounce of goddamn common sense. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You couldn't have fucking called?"

Ethan firms his jaw, tempted to tell the asshole there's a reason Donna didn't want to be at home, but he bites his tongue, trying to smooth things over for her sake. "She lost her purse at the club, and the nurse wouldn't give me your number."

"You know what she's been through." Harvey glowers, refusing to accept the excuse. "You let this happen, and I don't give a shit—"

"You're right, I do know what she's been through!" Ethan finally snaps, challenging the man's arrogance. "I was there, you weren't. So, pull your head out of your ass, Specter, because this... is on you."

"What did you just say to me?" Harvey steps up, balling his fists, and ready to take a swing at the man, but security enters his peripheral, and he sucks in a shaky breath, gathering his restraint.

Ethan squares his shoulders, knowing it's time to cut his losses. The one thing they can both agree on is that Donna comes first. "I said... you're goddamn welcome."

Harvey flinches as the man shoves past him, and if it weren't for the burley guard hovering, he'd be half tempted to haul the pipsqueak back, but he flicks the adrenaline from his fingers, instead setting off to find his own way to Donna's room.

She's sleeping when he enters, all the anger and frustration he's feeling caving as his gaze washes over her still form. He needs to call everyone and let them know nothing more sinister was a play, that she just...

He shakes his head, not sure how to finish the thought for himself, let alone what to tell Rachel and his handler. He overreacted. Two months in witness protection has played havoc with his ability to think rationally as well, but he doesn't know how to admit his wife would rather cripple herself with exhaustion than be at home with him, and Ethan's accusation hits hard.

I was there, you weren't.

He's not mad she reached out, but learning Ethan was the person she turned to, stings. The fact she was with the irresponsible asshole tonight is something he's afraid to try and make sense of, but he's more scared of the state she wound up in. Eight weeks without her had been soul destroying, but seeing her like this, he's starting to get an idea of what she felt thinking their future had been ripped away.

A ragged breath catches in his lungs, his hand clutching around the phone in his pocket. When he dials, he bends the truth to protect Donna, tells everyone she fainted at work, but that she's being taken care of. Though the fact he doesn't know what she needs hangs over him as he sits in the chair beside her bed. He's stuck. Completely lost without her guidance, like when she moved to Louis' desk, but this time he wants to fight.

He just isn't sure she still wants him to, and that terrifies him more than anything.

…

…

Donna steps inside their apartment, her stomach in knots as Harvey closes the door behind her. She woke up during the middle of the night to find him sprawled across her hospital bed, and she can only imagine what he went through when she didn't show up after work, but by that point she was too far gone to think about how worried he would be. She let him sleep, wracked with guilt, until the sun had risen, and the doctor came in with her test results, diagnosing her with severe anemia and a vitamin deficiency, which he claimed is the reason why she's been exhausted. But it's more than that, and she knows it, like Harvey's silence during the cab ride home, that left her wondering if he's angry or just as exhausted as she is, and when he places his lips to her temple with a quick kiss, she flinches at the calmness beneath his voice.

"You should get some rest," he says, pulling away. "I'll make us something to eat."

"I'm not hungry." Food is the last thing on her mind, her heart aching at the distance stretching between them. She screwed up, and can handle him being mad, but instead of challenging her, he turns around with a defeated look, and she can't hide the truth any longer.

"Ethan and I kissed last night." She blurts out the indiscretion, scanning his gaze for something—anything—that's real, but he just stops, averts his eyes, and throws out his hand with a shrug.

"Okay..."

"Okay?" Her voice hitches, a new tension straining between her temples as she moves to stand in front him, but a headache doesn't compare the pain coiling inside her, the dread that swells in her throat at his fast dismissal. "That's all you're going to say?"

He breathes in roughly, every attempt to swallow air like a hammer cracking his chest open. Two months, and the only thing he never thought about was the possibility of her being with anybody else. He hadn't let his mind go there because there's no way in hell he would have sought comfort in someone else's bed. And he blinks, his vision clouding over as the weight of her wedding ring sits heavily in his pocket. "Do you have feelings for him?"

He mumbles, and she doesn't understand why he's being like this, when the man who walked out on her two months ago would be furious. "I care about him as a friend."

He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek and swallowing thickly. "Are you sleeping with him?"

She winces, not sure which hurts more—the fact he thinks she would have betrayed their relationship so quickly or that he seems ready to accept that she did, either way. "No, Harvey, I'm not… but you were dead, so it wouldn't matter, right?"

He stares at her, struggling with a response. Of course it would goddamn matter. It does matter, and his heart tears at the thought of her being with anyone else. But she didn't just go out last night and do something stupid. She landed herself in the hospital, a warning she isn't okay, but when she storms past, his frustration finally winds up and around his concern. "The way you've been acting, Donna, I may as well still be dead." She freezes, turning on her heel, but he doesn't give her a chance to interrupt. She's the one daring him to open the flood gates, and he steps forward, meeting her glare. "You think being away was easy for me?" he accuses, his voice climbing several decibels. "I knew what I was putting you through and I hated myself for doing it, but I didn't think you'd weigh up fourteen years and decide to give up on us, I thought—"

"You thought, what?" she asks, snapping her arm around the apartment. "That I'd magically know you were coming back?"

He breathes in sharply, averting his gaze, and her eyes widen, a humourless sound spilling out of her lips. "Oh my god…. you actually did, didn't you?"

He still won't look at her and unshed tears burn as she absorbs the sheer audacity—that she was somehow supposed to have figured out his plan when waking up each day had been the bare minimum she could manage. She didn't get to say goodbye or have the chance to read anything in Mike's face, because seeing their friend had cut deeper than she could stand. She lost her husband when the doctor looked her in the eyes and told her without an ounce of hesitation that he hadn't survived, and she motions to the floor, at the carpet she had to replace because it had been soaked through with his blood. "You were gone. You bled out, right here in my arms and I had everything ripped away from me that night. Our life together, our future. Only I didn't lose you, Harvey, you left me."

Moisture spills across her cheeks as his devastated gaze flicks back to her, and she knows how much pain he's in, how each word is slicing through, twisting the knife deeper, but the effect is just a fraction of what she felt for months, all because he made one stupid damn decision without her. "You swore you wouldn't leave, but you did. You left me." A sob swallows her heartache, her knees shaking with exhaustion and she tries to smother the sound, but can't. She wanted him to fight, for everything they lost, for them, but she doesn't have the strength to do the same, and her legs buckle, her shoulders convulsing as she sinks to the ground.

He isn't close enough to catch her, but his knees take the impact of the drop as he crashes next to her, hauling her into his arms, and threatening to break right alongside her. He can't stand seeing her like this, her hot tears already soaking through his sweater, and he squeezes her tightly, fighting visions of the nights she spent crying alone without him. "I'm sorry, Donna… I'm so sorry."

"Say you'd take it back." She sobs the plea, begging him to give her the one thing she needs. Because she isn't sure how to be with someone who could hurt her this badly and do it all over again—no matter how noble his intentions had been.

"I would." He doesn't hesitate, prepared to say or do anything to stop the pain she's in. "If I could, I'd take it back," he whispers hoarsely, choking on the reassurance. Not because it's a lie, but because this is the only time he's ever questioned his instincts when it came down to the wire to protect her. Even after Liberty Rail, when his behavior resulted in her leaving him, he's still not sure he would have acted differently. Those mistakes paved the way for them, but ending up here isn't something he saw coming, and he runs his hand through her hair, sinking his lips over the soft strands as he lets her cry.

For the first time since he's been back, she feels a shift between them, and maybe it's her walls finally crumbling or that he isn't holding himself together either, but she trusts him in a way she hasn't done since the night he decided to put thirteen years of mistakes behind them. When he showed up at her door, his eyes told her everything. She can't see his gaze now, her own blinded by moisture, but when he shifts them against the wall, she moves with him, letting the grief she's been bottling up pour out while his gentle caresses try to calm her.

Neither of them say anything for a long while, and she doesn't feel compelled to, the rise and fall of his chest the only comfort she needs as her hitches slowly start to subside. Eventually her breathing evens out, and her attention falls to where he was shot, the last time she shed this many tears over his body. "Would you really take it back?" Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as she fights the doubt rising up again.

The soft vibration against his shirt startles him, and he steals a moment to decide on a completely honest answer. Hard truths have always been the reason they've worked, but he doesn't know for sure what he would do. What he can settle on is that, god forbid, if they're ever faced with a similar situation, he wouldn't make the same decision knowing how much this one cost her. "I thought you'd be okay."

She can hear the honesty behind his evasiveness, and the assurance is close enough to what she's searching for to give her a second's reprieve. He's always put her first when it really counted, and his life in exchange for hers was an anomaly, but maybe she let him down too. She wasn't as strong as he needed her to be, but rather than hide the fact, she owns up to everything she had to face. "I wasn't."

He glances down at the admission, seeing it as the opening he's been waiting for, and he forces aside his guilt and jealousy, trying to understand why she pushed away everyone she cares about, and turned to a twenty-something actor who doesn't know the first thing about her. He could almost justify the friendship if Ethan had helped in any way, but seeing the state she wound up in tonight, and hearing what happened between them—all he has is a rejuvenated hatred for the man. "Why Ethan?" he asks, not letting her go, but not disguising his frustration either. "Why not talk to Rachel or Louis, god, anyone else?"

She can tell he's still walking on eggshells, worried about broaching the subject, but she's glad he is, hoping they can finally start clearing the air. "Everyone else reminded me of you, and that hurt too much." She's not expecting him to understand, but Ethan was the only person who didn't judge her for being devastated or angry. He met every emotion with alcohol, provided an escape and an outlet. He was there, and maybe the excuse sounds trivial now, but compared to everyone else, he offered her a safe space to grieve in—one where she didn't have to pretend she was fine. "He's not exactly your biggest fan," she says candidly, but being serious. "I guess in a way that helped."

His arms stiffen, obviously not liking the explanation, but she turns, finding his gaze with complete conviction "Last night was a mistake."

He sinks his teeth into his cheek, believing her, but also recalling the time she said the same thing about kissing him. He knows that was different, but he needs to paint a picture of what happened, otherwise the assumptions will eat away at him. "Did he kiss you?"

She slants her head, surprised that's where he's focusing his attention. "Does it really matter?"

"No… maybe, I don't know." He shrugs his hand, falling short of a real answer, but he still wants to hear how it happened—to be sure he doesn't need a reason to lie awake at night worrying.

"It's all a blur." Her face flushes red with embarrassment, scared she can't give him the information he's looking for, but stumbling out of the women's bathroom hadn't been her finest moment, and all she can really remember is suddenly realizing the man she was kissing wasn't her husband. "It didn't mean anything."

He sighs, believing her, and maybe she's right, because the act of infidelity is something he always thought would be clear cut—that whoever initiated cheating was at fault, but they're dealing in shades of grey, and he wants to move forward. But that doesn't mean he can pretend the slip didn't happen. "It meant something, Donna."

She feels him tense and doesn't claim he's wrong. "You're right," she admits, the air heavy as it expels in a fast breath. Being drunk and confused aren't excuses for the state she wound up in. The reason is far more complicated—fear at the helm, but if they stand any chance of moving forward, then she needs to be completely honest. "I was afraid to come home... because I was scared if I let you in, I'd lose you again."

The same level of uncertainty reverberates through him. He's been terrified she wouldn't be able to forgive him, that he put her through too much, and he shakes his head at the irony—that they both want the same thing and that's what's been driving them a part. "I've been worried you didn't want me back."

She frowns at the apprehension in his expression. Things have been strained, but she's spent every night, bar the previous evening, clinging on—forcing herself to ignore her pain because she needs him. Maybe bottling up her hurt was wrong. But she's been doing the best she can and thought he could see she was trying. "Why would you think that?"

He reaches into his trouser pocket, pulling out the ball of tissue he wadded around her ring. Even if she doesn't want to be wearing the jewellery, hiding it back in the drawer had felt wrong, and he uncovers the band with a shrug. "I found this…"

Heat crawls up her neck at his discovery and there's no point denying she knew where it was. It was the last piece of their marriage she hasn't been able to pack away, but why she hasn't been able to put it on, either. Because she's scared the second she does, her heart will be vulnerable to broken promises, again. But she can't love him by half. Since the moment he showed up at her door—admitting his desires with a single look—it's been all or nothing, and she lifts onto her knees so she can take him in properly. "I love you, Harvey, and I want us to be together."

Hearing her voice, the sentiment sends a jolt rushing through him—despite still trying to gauge what she means, whether there's a 'but' coming or a condition, and he swallows, running his thumb around the ring. "I can hang onto this for a while?"

She clasps his wrist, keeping it raised in front of her. Waking up in hospital had been jarring, but her heart wasn't hit by gut wrenching sadness of facing an empty room. He was there beside her, his arm draped over the sheets, gripping on to something she was terrified might slip away when they opened up to each other. But he's still here. Looking at her like she's all that matters, and she takes the object from his grasp, gazing down at the gem surrounded by the cluster of smaller stones. "I hurt you, too," she whispers softly, holding her breath. She didn't deliberately set out yesterday to scare or drive him away, and he's handling what happened with Ethan better than she expected, but she needs to know if he can move past the kiss, and she forces her eyes up to meet his.

Her guilt ricochets through him, and she doesn't have to say anything. He can read the plea for forgiveness, the silent question asking if they're okay—and as far as he's concerned, she made a mistake that he's already put behind them. He broke her trust first, made her think he wasn't coming back, and if he thought she was hiding something—that her relationship with Ethan changed while he was gone—then they'd have a problem. But the first thing she did when they got home was tell him the truth. If she can forgive him for weeks of secrecy, he can accept she wasn't thinking clearly, and the ghost of a smile twitches his lips. "I don't think we need to keep score."

A relieved sound hitches in her throat, moisture stinging her gaze as she takes one final look at her trembling, naked hand, before sliding the ring back where it belongs, feeling a little disheartened by the loose fit. If she's not careful, it could easily slip off, but the worry is replaced by assurance when Harvey skates his thumb over the piece of jewellery. Being able to wear it doesn't compare to how much she wants it there, and she slides her touch tentatively along his arm, using his shoulder to gently guide herself over his lap. Her dress scrunches as he palms her waist, and she breathes in, her stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies. "Is this okay?

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, his heart pummelling his chest as she leans down, kissing him slowly, properly, for the first time since he came back.

His fingers give a light squeeze, gripping onto her sides, and she slides her tongue over his lips, tasting the cheap hospital toothpaste he'd rinsed his mouth with. But familiar hints of orange and spice lure her deeper, and she hums softly when he tugs her closer, exploring the kiss for himself and delving in with the same attention. Rampant hands move along her spine, and she shivers as they roam across her body, sensually cupping and groping through her dress, igniting a heat that isn't just want—it's need. Three nights in the same bed and she was clinging on so tight, there wasn't room to be intimate. She was afraid opening her eyes would cause him to vanish, but when she pulls back to look at him, framing his face, his eyes tell her there's nothing to be scared of.

He finally finds his voice, checking in like she did. "This still okay?"

She bends her head, muffling her answer against his throat and a tingle rushes down to his toes, every sense heightened to her soft nips and kisses as she tugs off his sweater and t-shirt.

"I've missed this." He breathes through a grin, caressing her breasts, her thighs—everywhere his touch can map as he slides down her zipper, helping remove her dress, and skimming his fingers over her undergarments like they're written in braille.

"Me or sex?" she asks, kneeling over him in her, the effortless banter misting her eyes. It's been too long since things were this easy between them, but she wants to hold on to the moment, not let herself get distracted by how much she's missed him too.

"You." He groans as her hot breath tickles his skin, tightening the pressure in his groin. "All of you." His confession slips out as a murmur, unable to deny how many nights he spent thinking about this moment, and he nudges his thumb beneath the lace of her panties, burying his nose in hair. "The way you smell, how you feel… the sound you make when I—" She hitches a gasp as his fingers brush her wetness, and god, he's missed that too—the way she's always ready for him.

She bites her lip as he pushes inside her walls with teasing thrusts, and she clenches around him with a whimper, digging her nails into his shoulder. She's played this game enough times to know how skilled he is at reducing her to a quivering, trembling mess, but the thought of climaxing alone twinges in her chest. She wants him spiraling over the edge with her, and she presses down on his wrist, moving his hand and raking hers over the tent straining his trousers.

He doesn't challenge her impatience as she unbuttons his pants, just bangs his head back, the dull knock failing to temper the fast throb that she frees from his boxers. She cages her fingers around him and—fuck. He breathes out sharply, pulling her up his body, and catching her mouth with a kiss. Self-restraint isn't something he can muster, not now they're finally on the same page, and he grabs her hips with a bruising tug, signalling he has no more interest in foreplay, either.

She slips out of her underwear and when she sinks on top of him, it doesn't matter whether his belongings are packed away or not. This is where he fits, and he instantly feels at home as her arms latch around his neck, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Her knees graze the carpet but the sting spurs her on, building the tension coiling in her stomach, and she can't breathe or think—only feel, until euphoria erupts and ecstasy ripples through her. He follows in an instant, releasing himself into her shuddering core, and wrapping his arms tighter around her frame as she collapses against his chest. He squeezes her shoulders, taking several seconds to collect himself. It's a moment he doesn't want to let go of, but he wants to make sure she's okay, and he presses a small smile against her ear.

"First time on the floor."

Something half-way between a sob and laugh catches in her throat, the stupidity of the comment flooding her gaze with happy tears, but she doesn't have the energy left to cry them.

He feels her shudder, and there isn't anything in the world that could drag him away from her, but the doctor warned him she needs rest, no strenuous activities, and he reaches for his shirt, covering her body with the item. With a gentle hand, he guides her off his lap, and pulls up his underwear, leaving everything else as he helps her up off the ground.

She leans her head against his shoulder and weighs up how much leverage he has before sweeping her up into his arms—figuring a night's stay in the hospital affords him the right to fuss. To his surprise, she doesn't protest. Just latches her arms around his neck with a soft smile.

"First time, bridal style," she murmurs, fluttering her eyes closed.

He doesn't mention it's actually the double time, not wanting to think about when he found her on the roof at Capstone Law. He did exactly what he promised himself he'd do back then—he kept her safe. And now, he's going to honor his other promise; he's never going to leave her again.