AN: Thank you so much to all of you that have stuck with this story despite me taking forever to update. I really hope to have the next chapter up more quickly. Thank you a million times to Steph and Jo for being not only amazing betas and friends, but my inspiration to keep on writing! Love you girls! Hope you enjoy and leave a review! ~ Aimee

Chapter 5:

"Shit!" Mike sets his drink down. "I'll be right back," he calls over his shoulder as he rushes toward the door. "Check on Harvey!"

Mike follows Donna out the door of the bar and attempts to catch up to her before she can hail a cab.

"Donna!" he shouts. When she turns to face him he can see the stream of tears. "Donna," he repeats. This time with concern and empathy. "What happened?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Mike." She raises her hand toward the street. "I just want to get home."

"Let's just walk for a bit, okay?" He reaches for her hand and tilts his head, offering a tentative smile.

Probably too tired to argue, she takes his hand and follows his lead down the busy Manhattan boulevard. Mike fights the urge to ask her again what happened with Harvey, deciding it's probably best to let her talk when she's ready.

Turns out he played it perfectly.

"I don't know what the hell is happening," she blurts out.

Donna doesn't make eye contact. She just watches the stream of cars passing them by. And rather than commenting, Mike just waits for her to continue.

"Harvey and I…" she pauses, opens her mouth, and then sighs. "How the hell am I supposed to make sense of any of this?"

"By simplifying it," Mike finally speaks up.

She scoffs. "Nothing about this is simple."

"Yes. It is." Mike stops and turns toward her. "He loves you, Donna. And you love him."

"Why now, Mike?" He can see the pain in her eyes. Sense the fear in her tone. "What if he's just afraid of losing what we have? That's not the same thing as love."

"And what if you're just running away?" Mike waits until Donna looks up at him. "What if Stephen is just a safe place to hide? That's not love either, Donna."

Mike braces himself for an angry retort and is completely taken aback when she simply bites her lower lip and averts her eyes. Bullseye.

"It's a lot to take in, Donna." Mike wipes a stray tear from his friend's cheek and pulls her in for a hug. "Let's get you that cab." Donna leans into him and nods into his chest.

Moments later, Mike is opening the backdoor to the yellow taxi. "Promise you'll think long and hard about what it is you really want." He plants a soft kiss on her cheek. "I just want you to be happy. But it's not up to me what that means."

Donna nods at him in understanding. "Thank you, Mike." She gives his hand a light squeeze and lowers herself into the cab.

…..

Donna sits up in bed with a jolt. Her breathing, shallow and choppy. Her heart, pounding wildly in her chest.

That damn dream again. Only this time it was worse. Much worse.

Harvey proposed, down on one knee just like all the other times, only this time, she said yes! She cried yes and threw herself into his embrace. Her heart, bursting with joy. But when she pulled back to look into his deep brown eyes, the eyes were blue and hollow. Instead of Harvey looking back at her, it was Stephen.

She grabs the glass of water on the nightstand she'd used to take a sleeping pill a few hours earlier. Finishing the remnants of the cool liquid in one large gulp, she rests her head against the headboard behind her.

She can't shake Mike's words from her mind. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she'd asked herself the very same question many times. Always quick to dismiss or deflect it, only to have it return the next time she thought of Harvey. Or woke up from that fucking dream.

She was in love with Stephen, wasn't she? Or was he just a replacement for the man she thought she could never have? And even if that were true, could anyone really blame her for trying to move on?

But now… everything's changed.

Even though Donna hasn't let Harvey get the words out of his mouth, deep down, she knows. She knows him better than anyone, and she has always been able to read his thoughts and feelings about anything. Anything, except her. But that invisible shield he'd always used to keep her at arm's length is finally down. The armor he donned day in and day out, shed. And when she dares to look into his eyes, she sees the love she has always longed for. But instead of being the way it was in her dreams, where she just drops everything and runs to him, she's petrified. Frozen in place. Unable to breathe.

…

Harvey wakes the next morning with the sun beating down on his face and his head threatening to split in two. He hadn't slept for shit, and the ridiculous amount of alcohol he'd consumed in an effort to dull the pain, was still coursing through his veins. Was it possible to be drunk and hungover at the same time?

Somehow between nightmares of Donna at the altar with Stephen and multiple trips to the porcelain throne, he'd gone from depressed, to hopeless, to downright pissed off. He'd actually fired up his laptop to look at flights back to LA. He would never do it, walk out on her on the happiest day of her life. His stomach heaves, but the idea of running, running fast and far, has definitely crossed his mind.

He still has two whole days to get through before the wedding and the idea of the looming Bachelor Party tonight is enough to make him dive off the hotel balcony.

He reaches for the phone on the nightstand that has been incessantly buzzing for hours, as he runs a hand through his tangled hair. Eighteen text messages. All from Mike. And three missed calls.

Fuck.

As he skims quickly over the increasingly irritated messages his mind slowly comes into focus. He and Mike were supposed to be meeting up with a couple of old college buddies for breakfast. The clock on his phone display reads 11:17. Breakfast had been at 10:00. Moaning and dropping the phone onto the floor, not bothering to respond to Mike, Harvey heads toward the bathroom for a shower. It's the only thing that sounds remotely good to him at the moment.

He makes it about 5 feet from the bed when the hotel room door flies open and he's met with three booming voices, causing him to wince in pain.

"Damn!" Stu cries out with a chuckle. "You look like shit on a stick Specter! And not the halfway decent kind they sell on the streets here in New York." He covers his mouth and shakes his head. "But the crap they pass off as edible out there on the west coast."

Harvey doesn't even turn toward his obnoxious friend. He just braces himself on the door jam to the restroom and waits for more punishment. It's what they do. It's what they've always done.

"Lay off the poor guy, Buzzini," Tanner chimes in with mock sympathy. "He's the Maid of Honor in Donna's wedding to another man. If that's not a cruel fucking twist of fate, I don't know what is." Both men laugh hard enough to make their eyes water.

"It's great to see you, assholes," Harvey grumbles without looking up. "So glad you invited yourselves in." He steps into the bathroom and turns on the shower just as Mike begins berating the other two for their callous behavior.

…

Breakfast plans are quickly amended to lunch, and despite the initial razzing from his old friends, Harvey manages to enjoy himself. Marginally. If nothing else, it takes his mind off Donna for a short time. Almost two hours to be exact. The men talk about work, sports, the glory days… they laugh, they reminisce, they catch up. And for a while, it feels good.

"So," Tanner says with his eyes locked on Harvey's. Before he gets out his thought, Harvey gulps. He knows what's coming. "What's the plan, Harv? You're not actually going to stand by and watch this happen, are you?"

"Don't be a dick, Tanner." Mike pipes in, his voice a little loud for the crowded patio.

"What?" Tanner retorts in Mike's direction. "Are you honestly going to sit here and say you think this wedding should happen?"

"Tanner—"

"It's okay, Mike." Harvey cuts him off. "Listen," Harvey looks between Stu and Tanner, "I know you guys are just looking out for me. And I get that everyone else seemed to know how I felt about Donna long before I did, but this wedding wasn't my idea, and it's certainly not about what I want." Harvey takes in a deep breath as the reality of his words seems to be taking hold. "This is what Donna wants, and regardless of how I feel about it, I have to respect that."

The men sit quietly after that. No more smart remarks. No more laughter. Harvey gets the feeling that Mike has something to add, but he never speaks up, and Harvey thinks it's probably for the best.

….

Donna's Bachelorette Party is small and low-key, just as she had planned. One of her closest girlfriends, who also happens to be a coworker, has an amazing rooftop bar on top of her apartment building. Reservations for non-residents are next to impossible and Donna has only been here once, but she was struck equally by both the vibe it gives off and the view it provides. It is the perfect venue for her last "girl's night" as a single woman, but she isn't sure her vibe is exactly what her friends had been expecting.

She's quietly taking in the aforementioned view while sipping her third glass of champagne. With the alcohol slowly dulling her defenses, her mind drifts back to the day Harvey Reginald Specter walked into her life.

….

"Class, I would like to introduce a new student to everyone."

Donna doesn't even bother to look up. She has her nose buried in the latest Nancy Drew novel and lately, new kids seem to be coming in every other day. Back in elementary school, she loved meeting new students. She was always the first to ask them to play or sit next to them at lunch. She'd even been named "Most Friendly" in her 5th-grade yearbook. But this is seventh grade, and she isn't a little girl anymore.

"His name is Harvey Specter and he has moved here to Boston all the way from sunny California."

Did she say California? Now that gets Donna's attention. She's never met anyone from California, and it's her dream to move to Hollywood and become a famous actress. More of a plan than a dream, really.

When Donna's eyes find their way up to the mature-looking boy standing in front of the class with his head tilted down and his fists jammed in his pockets, she has to consciously close her mouth. It's November, and after a Fall full of cloudy, rainy days, most of the kids she sees are various shades of pasty white. Harold, or whatever his name is, has olive-colored skin and hair that is sun-bleached blond at the tips like one of the cute boys from Baywatch.

"Would anyone like to volunteer to show him around today?"

Donna has to fight all her instincts and basically use her left hand to keep her right one from shooting into the air.

"Does anyone have drama, second period?" Mrs. Bennett continues looking at the boy's schedule in her hand.

"Donna does." Mark, the boy next to her, calls out before snickering behind his hand.

"Great. Donna, please show Harvey where the auditorium is after class."

Harvey. Not, Harold. Check. What the heck kind of name was Harvey, anyway.

"Of course, Mrs. Bennett," Donna responds in a voice that's a little sweeter than her usual tone.

That's when Harvey first lifts his eyes from his shoes. When they meet Donna's, she is immediately struck by the depth of them. Something about the rich brown color makes it hard to look away. He just stares at her for what feels like minutes until she eventually breaks into a shy smile.

He only scowls in return.

When class is over, Donna gathers her books and practically chases him down in the hallway.

"Hey!" She calls after him. "Harvey!"

He stops on a dime when his name echoes off the locker-filled hallway.

When he slowly turns around to face her, his annoyance is palpable.

"I'm… um... supposed to show you where—"

"Look, Dana. My school in LA was three times this size. I don't need a damn tour guide."

He stalks off and leaves Donna speechless. She didn't even bother to correct her name. Donna has never heard a boy use language like that at school before. And not that she'd admit it out loud, but it was 'damn' hot.

…..

"You okay?"

Donna smiles at the soothing sound of Rachel's voice but doesn't avert her gaze from the city lights.

"Just thinking. Taking this all in," she responds, honestly.

"The view or the occasion?"

"Both." Donna laughs softly at her friend's insight into her double meaning.

"Did you speak to Harvey today?" Rachel knows she's taking a chance with bringing him up, but she'd avoided the topic all night. Most of the girls here don't even know Harvey, and the few who do can't see past their own lust for him to notice Donna's feelings. It's been Stephen this, and London that, and Rachel fears the window of opportunity is closing permanently.

"No," Donna replies curtly.

Knowing exactly what Rachel is getting at is only compounded by the haunting memory of the thought that had crossed her mind as she watched Harvey walk down that hall all those years ago. A thought she had buried deep, deep in her subconscious. Donna empties the contents of her flute into her mouth as the words ring loudly in her ears.

Someday... I'm going to marry that boy.

…

Harvey had taken a power nap and showered for a second time hoping it might improve his mood. It hadn't. When he hears Mike's knock on the door, he frowns in the mirror.

A limo would be picking them both up to take them to J. Bespoke. It's an upscale sports bar where Stephen's party is being held. Something about a Premier League soccer game. Harvey hates soccer. Well, in all honesty, until recently he'd had no real opinion about soccer one way or the other. Now, just the idea of it irritates him.

A limo is a little overkill if you ask him. What's the problem with taking a cab, for Christ's sake? But this is what Stephen arranged so he would play along and pretend to enjoy it. It's not his fault if he's a shitty actor.

A few minutes later the two men, dressed New York casual in dark jeans and pullover sweaters, are enjoying a warm-up cocktail on the way to the party. Apparently, limos do have their advantages.

The conversation is casual and light and Harvey is grateful for it.

"Who are you rooting for tonight? Liverpool?" Mike sips on the amber liquid in his glass.

"Honestly, I don't give two shits." Harvey chuckles, still working on that positive mental attitude. "Whichever team Stephen doesn't want to win, I suppose. Watching him see his team lose could keep me entertained, at least."

Mike nods in agreement. He's not much of a soccer buff either, but he'd like to see Manchester United win. Harvey doesn't need to know that, though.

When they pull up to the restaurant, Harvey finishes his drink in one pull and prays the alcohol will at least marginally dull his senses. He and Mike climb out of the back seat and find their way to the group inside. The bar has a semi-private room with TVs on all sides and a long rectangular table that runs through the center and booths along the outer edges.

Harvey hears Stephen before he sees him. Never has a voice grated on his nerves quite like this one.

"Harvey! Mike!" Stephen calls loudly as he approaches them. "Cheers, mates!" He nearly loses his footing and leans on Harvey for balance. "I'm a bit pissed already, and we've just started," Stephen whisper-shouts into Harvey's ear.

"Fabulous," Harvey grumbles to himself as he wipes the spit from his ear. But as quickly as Stephen had surfaced, he is gone again. So many friends to slobber on, so little time.

Mike orders the two of them another round from the scantily dressed server who barely looks old enough to vote, much less serve alcohol, and as she scoots her way through the mob of men, Harvey's skin crawls as he watches Stephen's head follow her. Something in his eyes, despite being across a crowded bar, gets under Harvey's skin.

"What is it?" Mike turns and looks over his shoulder. The scowl on Harvey's face not going unnoticed.

"Nothing." Positive mental attitude.

"That wasn't nothing that just flashed across your face. C'mon Harvey, it's me."

"It's his eyes."

Mike coughs on the sip of water he'd just taken. There is no need to ask for clarification. He knows what Harvey is getting at and it's exactly what Rachel had been discussing with him last night.

"The way he looks at women." Harvey continues, his voice dark and dangerous. "I just don't like it."

Mike sighs and nods in agreement. "You're not the only one."

Harvey's eyes snap back to his friend. "What did you say?"

Mike knows he's treading on shaky ground here. He'd made a promise to Rachel but he also knows the importance of honesty in these situations.

"Rachel told me last night that she feels the same exact way. She says the way he looks at her makes her uncomfortable."

Harvey clenches his jaw tightly enough to turn his molars into diamonds.

"Has she told Donna?" His voice is hoarse as he keeps his eyes on Stephen.

"She's tried."

Just as Mike is contemplating saying, there's more, the server returns with their drinks, and Manchester puts one in the back of the net causing the entire place to erupt in cheers and sneers alike.

When the yelling finally subsides and people return to their conversations, Mike spots a short, plump guy with very little hair and huge teeth looking completely out of place.

"Hi there. You looking for Stephen?"

"What?" He turns toward Mike cupping his ear. "I can't hear anything in here over this blaring basketball game!"

"Soccer," Mike says back, speaking a little louder.

"What?" The man says scrunching his face in confusion.

"It's soccer. You said basket— nevermind." Mike shakes his head and stretches out his hand. "Mike Ross. And this is Harvey Specter. "Do you work with Stephen?"

"Did you say Harvey Specter?" He looks Harvey up and down. "Oh my God. In the flesh, I can't believe it!"

He pulls up a chair and sits closer to Harvey than any straight man should.

"Can I help you?" Harvey leans back as his eyes dart to Mike, a silent cry for help.

"Louis. Louis Litt." He reaches for Harvey's hand. "I'm sure Donna has told you all about me. Just like I know everything there is to know about you." His smile beams from ear to ear and Harvey is fairly sure he's levitating above his seat. "Isn't it just perfect that her two best friends should meet this way? Just days before the wedding?" Louis actually reaches for Harvey's hand again but he pulls it back before he can make contact. It doesn't deter him one bit. "You know I wasn't originally invited tonight, crazy— I know, but I just wouldn't take no for an answer once I found out you were going to be here."

"Can I get you a drink, Louis?" Mike can barely stifle the laugh trying to escape his throat and the terrified look on Harvey's face isn't helping.

"A Chardonnay, thank you."

"A what now?" Harvey scoffs. And then it hits him. Louis Litt. Donna had told him about this guy. "Wait a minute. Louis Litt. The choir teacher, right? At Donna's high school?"

"Director of Advanced Vocal Ensemble," Louis replies with a hint of irritation. "I knew she talked about me." His face morphs into a smug smile.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, the three of them enjoy sharing stories. Harvey actually likes hearing about Donna at work and the way the students fawn over her. He's not the least bit surprised. Louis asks a million questions about their childhood friendship, and Harvey finds it surprisingly refreshing to talk about the adventures of their youth.

"You know," Louis says midway through his second glass of wine, "I always got the feeling from Donna that there was something… more between the two of you." Seemingly oblivious to the death stare he is getting from Mike, Louis continues. "I thought when I finally met you, it would be you who was marrying Donna." He laughs to himself and completely misses the pain that passes over his new friend's face.

Before Harvey can muster a reply, he notices Mike's usual dorky expression turn sour. "Who the hell is that?"

Harvey turns to look in the direction of Mike's glare and he feels his blood begin to simmer to a boil. Stephen has his hands on the hips of some brunette in a skin-tight black dress, and he appears to be whispering something that has her giggling and touching his chest.

"I have no idea, but I'm sure as shit going to find out."

"Harvey!" Mike pushes away from the table and chases after him, leaving Louis in his dust. He's not happy about Stephen's behavior either, but if Harvey punches him in the face, it won't help anything. Well, not in the long run anyway. He reaches Harvey's side just before he addresses Stephen.

"Easy now," Mike says quietly, a light touch of warning on his friend's shoulder.

"Stephen," Harvey growls but keeps his voice low, "why don't you introduce your friend to Mike and me?"

"Harvey." Stephen feigns excitement, his tone a little slurred. "Of course! Of course." He smiles his slippery smile and slides his hand to the woman's lower back. "Harvey, Mike, this is Holly Cromwell, a dear friend and coworker of mine. Holly, these are Donna's oldest and best mates, Harvey and Mike."

Mike can feel the hair on the back of his neck slowly rise up. Co-worker. Dear friend. He knows with sickening clarity exactly who this is.

"What a pleasure to meet you." Holly reaches her hand toward Harvey and lifts her eyes to his through her long, dark lashes. The gesture, the tone, the eyes… It's meant to come across as sultry, and she doesn't miss her mark.

Biting back his temper at the last moment, Harvey plays along. Not for this woman's benefit, or because he's the least bit interested, but as a test. He wants to see if it will get under Stephen's skin. Taking her hand, he lays his lips gently on the back of it. "Well, the night is still young..." The look he gives her is dark and dangerous. He is certain he feels her hand tremor as her breath catches. But it's the click in Stephen's clenched jaw that he was after.

"I wasn't aware women were invited to your Bachelor Party, Stephen." Mike chimes in. Aware of more than Harvey at this point, Mike is struggling to keep his rage at bay.

"Oh," Holly flutters her lashes, "I wasn't invited. My friends and I just happened to be in the bar tonight for the soccer match. I've never been much of a fan before, but Stephen here, turned me on to it last season." The way she turns to smile at Stephen has Mike clenching his fists.

"I'm sure he did. He's a very passionate man." The bite to Mike's tone is picked up by everyone in the small group and Stephen drops his arm from Holly's back. There is a flash of something in his eyes as they meet Mike's.

"I should get back to my friends, actually. You men enjoy your party." Holly turns toward Stephen and they exchange an awkward look. The moment is charged with silent tension before she finally leans in to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations again, Stephen," she says softly.

As she saunters off, Mike bites down on his tongue contemplating his options. Harvey beats him to it.

"What the fuck was that, Huntley?"

Stephen scoffs, "I should be asking you the same thing, Specter." Stephen leans in to keep his voice from carrying too far, his breath reeking of alcohol, "For me, it was a nice chat with an old friend, but for you, it looked like a good old-fashioned 'eye-fucking'."

Harvey's chin juts out as he balls his fists and steps forward so the two are almost touching. "That was a test, to see how you'd react." Harvey flashes a sinister grin. "You failed."

"I've never failed at anything in my entire life," Stephen growls back. "Anything you witnessed here tonight," his voice drops to whisper even Mike can't pick up, "was because I bloody planned it that way."

"You're a real piece of shit." Harvey's nostrils flare as his self-control wanes. His hand begins to tremble at his side, and Mike considers stepping between the two men before one of them throws a punch.

"You're getting married, Stephen, in two days." Mike turns the attention onto himself instead. "Don't you think it's time to put the playboy lifestyle to rest?"

Stephen slowly tears his eyes from Harvey's like he's fighting an invisible force field. When they meet Mike's, they are full of bitterness and distaste.

"I'm getting married, Michael, not getting buried six feet underground." His mouth quirks into a sleazy grin. "I am a red-blooded man, after all." Stephen lifts his drink from the table and downs the last of it. "You know," he turns back to Harvey, "a true art connoisseur knows how to appreciate and value all kinds of art, not just the pieces he keeps in his home."

The crowd in the bar erupts as another goal is scored on the big screen TVs surrounding them. Stephen belts out a cheer and high-fives anyone who's willing while Harvey just stews in the boiling hatred bubbling in his gut.

"And," Stephen brings his eyes back to Harvey's when the noise dies down, "in less than 48 hours, your favorite piece is going to belong to me."

Stephen winks, clicks his tongue, and then gives Harvey's shoulder a condescending pat before walking away.