Chapter 12

Donna inhales the aroma of caffeine between her grasp, willing herself awake as she soaks in the sunlight drenching the apartment through their large bay windows. She's almost a little too hot in Harvey's t-shirt and slacks, but her fingers are still stiff, the warmth taking longer to circulate to her hands and feet. She's been trying—eating more like the doctor said and sleeping whenever her body demands rest, but the physician warned her it could be a few weeks before she starts to feel normal again. By then she and Harvey will be back at work, and she doesn't want to waste the time they've been given.

Having breakfast in bed or watching a movie on the couch isn't exactly the honeymoon either planned to take when things calmed down, but she's relieved, not wanting to venture out when she has everything she needs right here.

On the few occasions Harvey's had to go anywhere, she's been left riddled with anxiety, to the point she's actively encouraging him to shop on-line, which—as her gaze falls to the slew of packages by the door—she realises may have been a mistake.

Her lips curve at his enthusiastic spending. He's home, and the past week every moment she's spent with him has been filled with love; the kind that's light and easy and stands on its own.

They've talked more about what his life was like in witness protection, how she spoke to Marcus and probably remembers more of Harvey's youth than he does. There have been softer tears, and laughter, and stretches of silence where they just hold each other content with the quiet, and she's been slowly watching the worry start to evaporate from his features.

He has more energy to spare, but the months took their toll on him too. Without the aid of an alarm he's not always the first up anymore. Not every movement stirs him awake, like when she rose this morning, but it usually doesn't take long for his subconscious to seek her out, and when she hears a shuffle behind her, she instinctively leans back, resting her head against his shoulder.

He winds his arms around her, still a little groggy, and lifting the cup in her hands, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid.

She pulls it down from his mouth with a smile, clutching it to her chest. "There's a fresh pot in the kitchen."

"That one doesn't taste like you," he murmurs, brushing his lips over her skin and catching her waist with a squeeze. "Good morning."

She feels him grin and is overcome by a wave of calm as her gaze stretches across the horizon. "It's a nice day, we should have breakfast out on the patio."

He wishes he could, wanting nothing more than to stay wrapped around her, but he's already running late, and still needs to shower. "I have a suit fitting… but I can bring us back lunch, instead," he suggests, nuzzling his chin over her shoulder.

"You're going out?" she asks quietly, burying her frown inside the coffee cup.

"Just for a couple of hours." She kept his favorite suits, but they're a little snug around his broader muscles, and he's going to need a few extras for when he starts back at work next week. "I won't be long."

She nods, breathing in slowly and exhaling over the rim of her mug. "What about your guy in New York?"

"What about him?" He furrows his brow, confused.

"I don't know, can't you just have him fly some over." As soon as the words leave her mouth she knows how ridiculous they sound, but rather than take them seriously, he lets out a low chuckle.

"Donna, that's a six hour flight every time I need a new suit."

"You can't put a time limit on style," she justifies, lifting the coffee to give him another sip. She knew they'd reach this point eventually, having to face reality again, but it feels too soon. Whenever he steps out, the memories of living alone are vivid in the deafening silence, and she subtly tries to discourage him. "What if this new guy tries to dress you like Mike?"

"Then I'll know I'm in the kid's section of Nordstrom and get out of there." He smirks, finding the joke funny, but she doesn't share the amusement, and he loosens his grip, his mouth twitching with concern. "Everything okay?"

She winces as his hands turn her around, but she forces a smile as she meets his gaze. "Yeah." He slants his head to the side, trying to determine if there's something going on, and she doesn't want to keep what she's feeling from him. They're finally back at a place where they're talking openly, and her eyes drop, searching for a way to explain without worrying him. "It's quiet without you. Reminds me of…"

She trails off, absently glancing to the hideous new rug he purchased online—a surprise, to fill the space where he was injured with a new memory. The moment he laid it down, he realized the design didn't go with anything and offered to return it, but the clash of colors are at home now, and she relaxes, tilting her head up. "I miss you, that's all."

He pushes her hair back with a soft sigh, internally debating whether to postpone the outing, and maybe his return to the firm as well. She settled on the minimum of the three weeks leave the doctor ordered, and Mike agreed he could take as long as he needs, but he's stuck between a rock and a hard place, conscious of the stress the firm is under. Since the case with ASYNCS made headlines and Donna finally came clean about the media blow-out, he's aware Mike needs him back on board. But Donna is his first priority, and he rests his hand lightly over her shoulder. "I can take a few more days."

She claps his hand, wishing it was an option, but tacking on more days isn't the answer. "No, you can't." She smiles gently. When the subject reared one night, both of them too tired to shield their fears, they spoke about returning to New York, going somewhere safe and familiar, but they agreed to give Seattle a second chance, which means there's no sense delaying the inevitable. "Besides, who's going to pay for all the stuff you keep ordering?"

"It's cheaper to buy in bulk," he defends, tugging her closer, and turning serious again. "I'm just a phone call away, alright?"

She steels herself against the nerves churning in her stomach. She doesn't want to think about him leaving, not until he has one foot out the door, and she bites her lip, palming his chest. "Did I ever tell you about the button you asked me to get replaced?"

Her eyes glimmer with mischief, and he suddenly doesn't care how late he is, cocking his head with a smirk. "Please tell me this is one of those sexy secretary stories I love."

She takes his hand with a wicked grin.

Back when she was his secretary he never wanted to be bothered with details about her job, but after they got married, he admitted the reason he didn't ask was because knowing how hard she worked was secretly a turn on.

"I think you're going to like this one," she winks, depositing the mug on the counter as she leads him through to their ensuite.

…

The weekend passes in a blur of too much food, tangled limbs, and long, lingering kisses that are perfect but leave Donna restless in the hours before Harvey is due to start back at the firm. Her thoughts spiral around the soft sound of his breathing, every danger he's faced rearing up to torment her. Stampler, Forstman, Huntley, Malik—anyone who's gone after Harvey plays in her head on loop, the reality of his work hitting home harder than it ever has before.

All the other times she was right beside him throughout the danger. She never worried that he was in too deep, trusting he would come out on top, but the thought of him stepping into someone else's firing line, again, squeezes the air from her lungs, making her dizzy with panic.

There's always going to be another high roller, someone who rocks the boat, and she thought she could handle the uncertainty, but nausea wraps around her fear, and she climbs out of the bed on shaky legs, barely making it into the bathroom before her stomach heaves up the meal Harvey cooked for dinner. She retches until there's nothing left but bile, tears of frustration stinging her gaze as she pulls herself up, flushing the toilet and rinsing her mouth with water.

She turns off the faucet and catches her pale reflection in the mirror, searching for something, anything familiar, but the only time she feels close to being herself is when Harvey is there, chasing away the anxiety and exhaustion that suffocates her whenever she's alone.

She keeps leaning on what the doctor said, that it would be a slow process, but she's been doing everything the man instructed, and deep down it doesn't feel like anything has changed.

A shuffle sounds from the bedroom, and she breathes out slowly, composing herself before finding her way back to bed.

Harvey's hand winds around her waist, helping to calm her racing heartbeat, and she tries to relax—forget about the morning that's looming, but she only manages to doze, never falling asleep for longer than a few minutes at a time, until dusk starts to fill the surrounding room.

Then suddenly, she's jolted awake to an empty space, full daylight streaming in, and she startles, panicked Harvey has already left, until the sound of his voice registers from the doorway.

"Hey… I was just coming to wake you."

He steps inside, dressed in a new suit, and she searches for something to say, but her throat feels raw and dry, and incapable of making any noise.

The coffee he's holding lands on the dresser, and he frowns, worried by her wide gaze. "What is it, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head as the mattress dips, not wanting to admit this is all too much, that she isn't ready for him to go back to work, but the thought of him walking out the door is more terrifying than putting a dent in her pride, and she finds her voice through a hitched gasp. "Don't go."

He's not sure what to make of her sudden turnaround. Up until now she's been on board with him starting at the firm again, but her trembling shoulders make it clear she's not joking around, and he grasps her arm with a gentle squeeze. "Just let me call, Mike, okay?"

She nods, heat flushing her cheeks as he stands up, pulling his phone out, and taking several strides across the room. She is too mortified to listen to their conversation,, and she drags her knees up, focusing on breathing and quashing the nausea rolling around her stomach again. By the time he's finished the call, she's able to gather her thoughts more clearly, and she wipes her eyes as he settles on the bed. "You weren't here when I woke up, and I just..." She stops, swallowing thickly. "We were supposed to have breakfast together."

"Breakfast?" he echoes, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. The spread is already laid out for them, ready to eat, but she didn't come close to a full-blown panic attack because she thought he forgot their plan.

"It was stupid." She shifts her gaze to her hands. "You should go, I'm fine."

"Donna, hey… look at me." He covers her knee, waiting for her head to tilt back up. After their conversation last week, he thought she was okay with everything, but nothing about the way she's holding herself says she's fine, and Mike had been adamant that they could handle things for a few more days without him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"The firm—"

"Survived this long. It can wait..." He promises, sliding his fingers down to clasp her ankle. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

She isn't sure how to tell him what the problem is because she isn't sure herself. Even when he was gone, she managed to muster up enough confidence to force herself through the days. But waking up alone after her restless night jolted her back to those mornings—when the crushing realization he was gone hit her with full force, and she's still trying to shake the same feeling of despair that's lingering, buried in her chest. "I used to think it wasn't real," she admits, wiping her eyes. "That you were in the shower or out getting coffee. I woke and you weren't here, I just…"

She shakes her head, and a sigh pulls in his chest as he shifts on the bed, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "I'm right here," he assures, holding her as she sinks into the embrace. In hindsight, he should have thought to wake her before getting up. It hadn't occurred to him because she's been fine, or so he thought, but the past few days she's been rising earlier, and he wishes he'd made the connection sooner. "I was making breakfast… I didn't think."

"You didn't know," she murmurs, not trying to make him feel guilty. Most mornings she wakes to a warm, content happiness, but there are still a few rare moments her groggy mind confuses reality, and she takes his hand with a squeeze, grateful for his understanding. He should go to work, but he's already called Mike, and the temptation to keep him home for one more day is impossible to ignore. "You made breakfast?"

He nods, resting his head against her shoulder with a small smile and squashing down the vestiges of his concern that are lingering. He's never going to complain about getting to spend time with his wife, but he does make a mental note to pay more attention to how she's feeling, not just rely on his instincts to tell him when something is wrong.

"You know," she muses, fiddling with his tie. "You're a little overdressed for breakfast."

"Really?" He lifts an eyebrow, palming her waist as she sits over his lap.

She smiles, the panic in her chest unwinding as she slips the silk out of its knot. "Uh, huh."

"That's funny, I was thinking the same about you." He leans in to kiss her, deciding that tomorrow, he's going to start the morning differently—just like this, so there's no room for any doubt. His job is important, but Donna means everything to him, and when she pulls back, shrugging off her top, he's captivated by her teasing smirk and naked breasts.

"Better?" she asks, grinning when he rolls them over, and hovers, shedding his jacket. When he reaches down to kiss her, she helps pop the buttons of his shirt, casting aside her fears because they're both safe, and she doesn't want to think about anything else, yet. She just wants to be with him and forget about the world for as long as they can.

…

Rachel smooths down her skirt, nerves tingling through her as she knocks on Donna's door.

The last time they spoke was the night of Rockabye Hamlet's launch party, and their pleasantries had been buffered by Louis. All she's wanted to do since Stampler's conviction is call her best friend, but the few messages she sent are still marked as unread on her phone. Even though Harvey started back at work four days ago. The few times she's run into him have been brief, but today he sought her out, worried that Donna had decided to take more leave and isn't adjusting like he thought she was.

Initially, she'd been frustrated by the interaction, having spent months trying to pick up the pieces he shattered and falling short. Then he surprised her, shrinking under her anger and ready to retreat, when she stopped him. Her own hurt is still raw, but unlike the people she cares about, she's always found forgiveness to be something that overrides pride or embarrassment.

Maybe she gets upset more easily but she let's go more quickly.

Which is why she told Harvey to cover her appointments for the afternoon while she grabbed her purse and went downstairs to hail a cab. She's never been meek, just cautious and controlled, and Seattle has changed her. The city and Capstone Law prepared her for the unexpected, but she wouldn't have been able to handle the change without Harvey and Donna's sometimes harsh, but fair guidance, and when the door pulls back, revealing Donna's confused features, everything she's feeling pushes into a tentative but warm smile. "Hey."

"Hi." Donna swallows, clutching the wooden frame and searching for something else to say. But ignoring a text is easier than facing someone in person, and her chest tightens, tears wrestling with the lump lodged in her throat. After nearly three months of neglect, she didn't expect Rachel to turn up with a smile, so when the brunette steps forward sweeping her into a tight hug, she seeks out the comfort, gripping Rachel's shoulder's just as firmly.

The truth is, ever since Harvey came back, she's wanted to make amends, she just didn't know how. Living in a bubble was easier, but the safety-net she was relying on disappeared four days ago, when she had to finally face reality. It doesn't seem right to lay the burden on Rachel, not when she pushed the woman out of her life, but the unexpected visit trumps her guilt, and when the brunette pulls back, she finds the apology she's looking for, swiping her eyes with a shudder. "I'm so sorry, Rach."

"It's okay." She blinks away her own emotions, clasping Donna's hand with a squeeze. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Donna moves aside, bumping the boxes Harvey hasn't unpacked as she closes the door.

Rachel takes in the living area, the subtle differences that have changed since she was last here, and a hideous rug that is now the feature of the open space lounge. All the touches; a model Mustang, a weird looking statue and a new painting on the wall, have Harvey written all over them, and she turns to the pile of boxes piled up, reading his name on the postage stamps. "You taught Harvey to on-line shop, didn't you?"

Donna ducks her head, smothering the amusement warring with her awkwardness, but she covers the slip, folding her arms over her chest with a smirk. "I couldn't hide the internet from him forever."

Rachel finishes sweeping the room, her gaze falling back to Donna as she moves, folding herself onto the couch. "I see that." She places her hands in her lap, waiting for the woman to join her, and when Donna takes the seat opposite, she can't help but be struck by her friend's sunken complexion. Even while Donna was grieving, she still fought to keep up an appearance, but only a few weeks ago Harvey had been beside himself with worry, calling everyone because his wife hadn't turned up after work. Harvey's excuse had been that Donna had fainted on set—that she was fine, but Rachel hadn't believed the assurance then, and she doesn't believe it now. "Donna, what's going on?"

Her tone is worried but direct, and Donna shakes her head slightly. "Nothing, I—"

"Please don't say you're fine." Rachel stops her, afraid that if they start on a lie, they'll never loosen the wedge between them. "Harvey told us you were in the hospital."

Heat flushes Donna's cheeks, and she chews the inside of her lip, not sure what to say. The simple answer is that she was just exhausted, but the longer version—the story Rachel's asking for— is complicated. Her behavior had been erratic, her mind a mess, and she's still struggling, trying to pick up the pieces. She wants to move forward, but that means being honest, and she rings her fingers together, breathing out a sigh. "Ethan and I kissed." Rachel's eyes double in size, and she quickly jumps in to explain. "We were drunk, and it was a mistake… but the next thing I remember, I was waking up in the hospital."

"Donna." Rachel places her hand over her friend's knee with a comforting squeeze. "What did the doctor say?"

"That I was anemic, fatigued." Not anything that's an excuse, she decides, her gaze washing over the brunette. At the time, she hadn't thought about Harvey's worry, or anyone else's, and a knot of guilt winds in her throat. "I should have called." She gives the woman a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Rachel assures her, going back over all the times Donna didn't tell her something or came to her after the fact. They've always been different. She needs people around her, but Donna is more cautious with her emotions, putting other people's needs ahead of her own. She honestly believes the kiss with Ethan was a mistake, and she would never judge Donna for anything, especially after what the woman's been through, but she is worried that the slip is still weighing on her friend. "Does Harvey know?"

"He does." Donna nods, relieved that in the very least, something positive had come from her poor choice of judgment. "We talked about it. He wasn't happy, but he understood."

"Wow." The word is colored with surprise as Rachel sinks back. Obviously the circumstances behind the kiss were extreme, and she'd glad Harvey was able to move on, but when he mentioned Donna taking extra leave, she didn't have all the facts, and now she's trying to paint a clearer picture of what's really going on. "Is Ethan the reason you didn't call?"

"No." Donna shakes her head, fiddling with her hands again. She didn't call because she didn't know how. For two months, instead of talking to Rachel, she shut her friend out, ignored countless phone calls and texts. She's ashamed of how angry she'd been, how selfish, and she lifts her gaze with a sigh. "I hurt you… I wasn't sure how to make things right."

The honest admission once again comes as a shock, and Rachel shifts closer to the woman. "You did." She doesn't sugar coat the confession. Being shut out of her best friend's life was hard. Finding out Mike lied was equally as painful, but she forgave her husband because they all went through something harrowing, and she smiles softly. "But you were grieving, Donna, and I'm still here. There's nothing to fix."

Tears blur Donna's gaze, and she feels a weight lift off her shoulders as Rachel draws her into a hug. "Thank you, Rach." She squeezes her friend, jumping when a loud knock rattles through the apartment and the fleeting moment of relief is replaced by a knot of anxiety in her throat as she pulls back.

"Hey." Rachel frowns at the worry etched in Donna's expression. "You want me to answer it?"

She gapes, not sure either of them should get up, flinching when the sound comes again. She isn't expecting anyone, and Rachel showing up had startled her, but the women's soft knock wasn't anywhere near as jarring. "I don't..." She swallows thickly, her pulse skipping. The last time a stranger had been in the apartment, Harvey had been shot, and panic coils in her chest as the brunette pushes up.

"It's okay," Rachel assures her. "I'll check to see who it is first." Donna nods, her lips pulling into a thin line, and confusion furrows Rachel's brow as she moves to the door. She's never known Donna to be afraid of anything before, and Harvey's worry is starting to make more sense. Already uneasy, she peers through peers through the peephole, and isn't sure whether to be relieved or more concerned as she greets the two men, one of which is wearing a police uniform. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Brady and this is Officer Cromwell," he introduces them. "We're looking for Mrs. Paulsen. Is she home?"

Rachel glances towards the couch then back to the men. It's the worst possible time for an interruption, especially one that's going to cause her friend anymore undue stress. "Can I ask what this is regarding?"

The detective nods. "We have some follow-up questions for Mrs. Paulen concerning Ryan Drake."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. "He was arrested and charged." The men exchange a look, and she folds her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation. Stampler had given Ryan up, and Mike assured her the asshole was looking at least twenty-five years behind bars. She doesn't understand why Donna would need to go back over anything.

"Mr. Drake's lawyer is going to appeal the sentence based on the falsified statement that was lodged by Mrs. Paulsen." He folds his hands together. "We just need to make sure there are no inconsistencies in case Mrs. Paulsen is called on to testify."

"The F.B.I—"

"We're aware of their involvement, ma'am, and Mr. Specter's time in protective custody."

Frustration rushes through her, and her first instinct is to call Harvey, find out what the hell is going on, but Donna's voice sounds shakily behind her before she has a chance to open her mouth.

"It's okay, let them in." Donna swallows, her heart hammering in her chest as the two men step inside the apartment. She feels dizzy and sick with nerves, not sure how many times she can go through that night again. Each recount takes a piece of her, but she lied to the police, and the thought of Ryan getting his sentence reduced on a technicality rattles through her.

"Donna, it's going to be fine." Rachel squeezes her arm, letting her hand drop, and feeling doubt cling to her worry as she ushers her best friend forward, concerned by Donna's pale features, and stopping via the kitchen to pour a glass of water. She waits until Donna is seated before handing the drink over, eyeing the detective and officer wearily as she sits opposite him.

"Mrs. Paulsen." Cromwell hunches over to address both women with a tight smile. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we…"

AN: So sorry for the delay with this chapter! Thank you to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for being amazing with words :D And to Beth (NAhavenbb) and Sanjukta ( SANJUKTAKAR1) for the motivation and encouragement, along with everyone following this story 💖💖