TW: panic attack
Donna wakes in the middle of the night. She slowly opens her eyes, but the dark around her reassures her she still has time to sleep, although she isn't sure what the quality of that sleep will be. Lately, she has been waking frequently, the days spent at home providing a monotone rhythm that doesn't challenge her and has convinced her brain that sleep is not that important anymore. She pulls the covers up a little higher and rolls onto her side, towards Harvey's side of the bed. They always fall asleep entangled in each other, but during the night they occasionally roll away. She still doesn't feel his warm body and she reaches her hand over the mattress, trying to feel where he is. But her husband isn't there and the sheets are cold, telling her that he has been out of bed for a while. She sits up, her eyes trailing through the dark room. She can't make out much, but when her eyes find the door, she is pretty sure it's open.
After a moment of hesitation, Donna pulls the covers back and steps out of bed. The hardwood floor is cold under her bare feet, but she is more concerned with finding Harvey. Usually, he is a deep sleeper. Once in a while he is disturbed by nightmares - a little more frequently since the pandemic started - but in those night he jolts awake with such big movements she wakes up too. She makes her way through the door, and once in the hallway she sees a faint light under the bathroom door. Maybe he just needed to pee? But no. Then he wouldn't be gone so long the sheets turned cold. She knocks on the door, twice, softly. "Harvey?" She tentatively calls out, "are you okay?" He doesn't respond, and she doesn't hesitate in pushing the door open.
Harvey is on his knees in front of the toilet. His forearms rest on the cold porcelain and his head is bowed forward. Donna kneels beside him, noticing the fast, uneven pattern of breathing that makes his ribcage expand. She carefully rests her hand on his back, feeling how warm he is and how damp the fabric of his shirt is. "Harvey?" She softly asks. He still doesn't respond, and she doesn't know if he can't or won't. What she does know is that the wheezing and gasping for air is not okay. Her hand strokes up to his neck, finding the hair at the base of his head drenched from sweat. She has never seen him like this, but she thinks she knows what's happening. He is having a panic attack.
"Hey, Harvey," Donna runs her fingers through his hair as she calls for him again, a little louder this time, "can you look at me? Please?" It takes a few moments, but then he lifts his head. She is taken aback by the ghostly pallor of his skin and his bloodshot eyes. She moves her hand to his cheek, stroking over his clammy skin, "can you hear me?" She asks, meeting his eyes and hoping she doesn't look as terrified as she feels. He nods vaguely before his eyes squeeze closed. He lifts his right arm from the toilet, tugging at the neck of his shirt, "can't… breathe," he chokes out. Donna covers her hand with his, intertwining their fingers, "I know," she whispers, "but it's going to be okay. You're having a panic attack, Harvey, but you're going to be okay."
Donna's head is spinning. Back when she learned he had panic attacks, she read up on them and searched the internet for ways to help him if he ever had one in her presence. That never happened, and over the years the information has slowly started slipping from her mind. She tries to concentrate and remember but seeing her husband so anguished isn't helping her focus. "Harvey," she squeezes his hand, "open your eyes, please? Look at me." She waits, unsure whether he evens hears her. It seems like an eternity passes, but then his eyes meet hers.
"Okay," Donna breathes. She gives Harveys hand a soft squeeze and strokes the thumb of her other one softly along his jawline. "It's a panic attack," she softly reminds him, "I know it's scary and you feel bad now, but it will pass," she holds his gaze, "it will pass. You'll be okay." He nods, indicating that he hears her, but then he tugs at his shirt again. He still feels like he is being suffocated and the dizziness and rising nausea are not making it any easier to believe what Donna is saying.
"Harvey," Donna saw him withdrawing into himself just the tiniest bit, and she can't have that. He needs to stay present, stay with her. She takes the hand he has placed over his chest, and moves it to her own, over her heart. Then she deepens her breathing, looking at Harvey as she does, "can you feel that?" She asks, receiving a feeble nod in return. "Good," she tries to smile at him, tries her hardest to put on a steady front. It won't help him if he sees how much this is freaking her out.
Donna takes a few deep breaths, still holding Harveys hand over her chest. "Can you breathe with me?" She asks him. He nods again, but his attempts only end in more gasping for air. "Okay, shh, it's okay," Donna soothes, "I'll help you, alright?" He is slightly swaying back and forth by now, his eyes becoming more and more unfocused. But he is still looking at her, and he nods.
"In, one… two… three… four…" Donna softly counts, "and out, one… two… three… four…" She notices Harvey is struggling to follow her instruction, but he does manage. "In, one… two… three… four…" She starts again, "out, one… two… three… four… Good," she offers him a reassuring smile, before repeating the process again, and again.
Neither of them has any idea how long they sit on the bathroom floor, Harvey's hand on Donna's chest while she counts to four over and over again. But it works. Eventually, Harvey's breathing feels less strained and he easily follows into the rhythm Donna is counting for him. She notices him easing up, but she keeps counting for a while longer.
In the end, when Donna stops, a silence falls over them. Harvey drops his head, breaking eye contact with her for the first time in what feels like hours. She starts rubbing her thumb across his knuckles, keeping his hand over her heart – keeping them connected while she gives him a little time.
"Thank you," Harvey's voice is hoarse when he speaks. He lifts his head again, meeting Donna's eyes and hoping she can read everything he can't say right now. She lightly nods at him and gives his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. She brings her hand to his face, cupping his cheek, "are you okay?" She softly asks. He takes a moment to think about her question, "I don't know," he answers then, "tired…" He adds, because right now, foggy exhaustion is the most prominent in his head.
Donna stands, and then helps Harvey up, "let's get back to bed," she suggest, at which he just nods. He looks more vulnerable than she has ever seen him, and before leading him to the bedroom, she pulls him into a hug. He reacts immediately, clinging to her and burying his face into her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair and one hand over his back, feeling how damp the fabric still is.
A few minutes later, they are settling under the covers. Donna managed to convince Harvey to put on a clean shirt, but he refused a shower, too exhausted. Now, they are close together; Donna on her back and Harvey nestled against her side, his body molded into hers. She runs her fingers through his hair in gentle, rhythmic movements. His breathing is deepening, a sign that he is close to falling asleep. But she needs to know one thing first, "Harvey?" She gently asks, capturing his attention, "we don't have to talk right now if you don't want to, but… Is this the first time you had one again?"
"Mh," Harvey mutters something, but Donna can only feel the vibrations against her skin, not make out any words. "Harvey?" She prompts. He tilts his head a little, "this was the first," he tells her. "Okay." She lets out a relieved breath. She had been scared this wasn't the first one, and that he has kept them from her. It's an irrational thought, deep down she knows that. But there is this little seed of doubt that started growing when she realized if she hadn't woken up, she wouldn't have known.
"Donna?" Harvey asks for her attention, oblivious to what's going on in her head but nevertheless wanting to say something to her, "thank you," he presses a quick kiss into her neck, "for finding me. I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you, so I got out of bed, watched a rerun of some game on the sports channel. But my brain kept… buzzing. It's just…" He hesitates for a second, "the whole world has changed. And it's strange and scary and people are dying and-and," he takes a deep breath, feeling fear creep underneath his skin again.
"Hey, shh," Donna places a hand over Harvey's arm and softly squeezes, "you're right. This whole pandemic is fucking terrifying," she rubs his arm, "but we're okay. Our friends and families are okay. You are okay." He nods, comforted by the soothing tone of her voice. "Suddenly I couldn't breathe anymore… I was thinking… What if the world never goes back to normal? What if…" He shakes his head, not allowing himself to get swept up in dangerous thoughts again, "I started panicking and all I could think was that I shouldn't throw up on that new rug because you'd kill me. So I managed to get to the bathroom. But I'm so glad you showed up. I don't know what I would've done without you…" He admits, his voice dangerously close to breaking.
"Harvey…" Donna turns her head, quickly kissing his forehead, "two things. One, I'll always be there for you," she reassures him, her lips still so close he can feel her breath. She presses another quick kiss to his skin, "and… If you feel overwhelmed, or worried, or…" She stumbles a little, "anything. You can always wake me. You don't have to do it alone." He presses himself closer to her and tightens his grip around her waist, "I know," he quietly whispers. "And two," Donna softly continues, "know that I would kill you if you'd throw up over that rug." She chuckles and is glad when she hears that her quip elicits a soft laugh from him as well.
A comfortable silence falls over them after that. Donna feels her body growing heavy, her doubt quelled by Harvey's words. However, she doesn't succumb to sleep just yet. Instead, she checks on Harvey again. His body has relaxed into her, and his breathing is calm and even. Before, he seemed utterly exhausted and right now he is so close to sleeping that she isn't worried about him, despite what he just told her about the turmoil in his head. That is something they can talk about tomorrow. For now, he seems as okay as could be expected, and that's enough for Donna to finally close her eyes and let herself relax.