The next day, Harvey walks into Donna's office just after lunch. She looks up at him, and sees a smile on his face that makes the tension she held in her body melt away. "Good news?" She asks, although she already knows the answer. He nods, rounding her desk and then leaning against it, "Mike got a name and phone number, we called and we have a meeting in an hour." She smiles at him, glad that the first big hurdle is taken.
Harvey notices Donna visibly relaxing. Her shoulders drop slightly and the tight lines on her face fade away, making room for the exhaustion caused by the night she spent mostly sleepless. He offers her a soft smile, "I just wanted to let you know." She nods, leaning back into her chair, "thank you." She smiles, genuinely grateful. After her initial hesitation to talk to him about her fear, she was glad she had shared it with him. Especially now that he's looking at her with his warm, brown eyes. "I'll keep you updated," he promises, after which he leaves her to her work again.
A few hours later, Donna runs into Harvey and Mike just when they get back from their meeting. She doesn't need them to say it didn't go as well as they hoped, she can see it on their faces. Harvey nods curtly at Mike, who then takes off, leaving Donna following Harvey towards his office. He closes the door behind her – the nature of this case asking for a little more privacy than they usually need – before meeting her eyes, "he can't do anything at this stage."
"What do you mean?" Donna folds her arms over her chest. Harvey just shrugs, "the threats aren't signed, we have no concrete evidence that Hawkins is behind this." "Who else could it be?" Frustration laces Donna's voice. Harvey understands, he reacted similarly at first, "legally, we can't prove anything. The cop – Arthur, he believes us, he agrees that Hawkins must be behind it. But his hands are tied at this point."
Donna huffs, "so now what?" Harvey approaches her, bringing his hands to her arms, "now we continue working on the case, we keep Arthur updated and if anything happens we call him immediately." She meets his eyes, a fleeting glimpse of desperation visible in her hazel pair, "so we just wait until Hawkins really escalates the situation? Until something happens? How fucking bad does this have to get, Harvey?" He flinches a little when he hears her voice wavering, despite her strong words. His thumbs rub gentle circles on the bare skin of her arms, "I don't like it either," he admits, "but Arthur is right, there's nothing we can do."
Two weeks later, nothing has happened. No more threats and nothing else that suggests Hawkins is plotting something. The more time passes, the more Harvey relaxes. They got a cop involved and the letters have seized to come. He figures that perhaps Hawkins got wind of it and ran scared. Donna, however, is another story. She is still on edge, and Harvey is getting a little worried about her. Sleepless nights are alternated by days at the office that end after midnight and have her crashing into exhausted sleep. She keeps to herself and holds off his attempts to talk to her.
Until now, Harvey accepted Donna's distance, thinking she might need some time to sort it out for herself. But he knows her better than anyone and he knows that she can also drive herself crazy if left to her own devices. So he walks into her office, gently smiling at her, "any chance you'll finish up early tonight? I thought maybe we could have a night in? I could run you a bath, maybe give you a massage…" He trails off, winking suggestively at her. His words elicit a small smile from her, and she nods at him, "that sounds nice, Harvey. I'd like that."
A few hours later, Donna clears up her desk for the night. Harvey had to head out for an impromptu meeting a while ago, but he promised her he would be home in time and pick up groceries on the way. She slips her coat on, packs her bag and walks outside. The evening air is cool on her face, a relief after sitting inside all day. She takes a deep breath and makes the decision to walk home. It might take a little longer than hailing a cab, but she likes the fresh air and honestly, she could use a moment of peace and quiet to clear her head before going home to Harvey and a conversation he most likely wants to have with her.
Donna digs through her purse, looking for her keys while she exits the elevator. A sound in front of her catches her attention and her head shoots up, a relieved breath involuntarily escaping her lips when it's just Harvey. Her relief, however, is quickly replaced by worry. His back is turned towards her, but something about him is off. His shoulders are tense, he can't seem to get his key in the lock and he hasn't heard the sound of her heels.
"Harvey?" Donna calls for him as she approaches him. He spins around, keys dropping to the ground. He closes the distance between them and then pulls her into a crushing embrace that almost makes her lose her balance. He moved fast, but before he buried himself into her, she saw bruises and blood on his face and knuckles. "Thank God you're okay," he mumbles against her neck. She almost pulls away from him again, ready to ask him what's going on, but then she tunes into his hold and feels his body trembling and she just wraps her arms around him.
Donna's hand runs slow circles over Harvey's back while her head is spinning with questions and worry. She manages to hold Harvey for a few more seconds before pulling away, "let's get you inside." She squats down to take his keys and then unlocks the door. She lets Harvey enter before herself, resting her hand on his back. She steers him towards the kitchen and stops in front of the kitchen island, where he slumps down on one of the barstools.
When Donna starts to move away to get the first aid kit, Harvey's hand encircles her wrist and he holds her in place. He looks at her with large brown eyes, silently taking her in. Then he closes his eyes, "thank God you're okay," he whispers again. Her eyebrows knit into a frown, "Harvey, what happened?" She steps closer and slips her free hand around his neck, gently running her fingertips through his short hair. He leans into her touch, but doesn't answer her question.
"Did Hawkins do this?" Donna presses. Harvey's head drops and she knows she's right. Anger surges through her, mixed with fear and concern and about a million other things. She wants to know more, she needs to know. But Harvey seems so vulnerable that she's a little scared of pushing him. Her eyes trail over him, over the bruise blooming around his left eye. Over the torn skin at the end of his eyebrow, leaving trail of blood running down his cheek. Over his split lip. Over the drops of blood on his white shirt. Over his hunched position and his swollen, scratched knuckles. After a while, he opens his eyes, and even in there she can see it's not right. His eyes are glassy, unfocused and she realizes he probably has a concussion.
Once again, Donna tries to move away. Harvey tightens his grip on her wrist, "stay," he pleads with a low voice. She looks at him, concern clouding her features, "I'm just getting the first aid kit, Harvey, not going out to make him pay." They both know he wasn't afraid of that, reacting impulsively and with violence is more his style. But still he doesn't let her go. He needs her close, but his head is pounding and spinning and he can't seem to get out the right words. She covers his hand with hers and gently peels his fingers away from her wrist.
Donna hurries getting the first aid kit, her heels making her quick steps sound through their apartment. She opens the kit on her way back and sets it down on the counter. She pours alcohol on a cotton ball and carefully cleans the cut in his eyebrow. He flinches and pulls back a little, but she cups the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair as she continues cleaning away the blood. He lets her, but his hands come to her waist, pulling her in a little closer. Questions still burn in her head, but she sees now he needs a little time to process himself.
After cleaning up Harvey's face, Donna dabs at his scratched knuckles. His hand is swollen and it looks like he fought back quite ferociously. She looks at him, swallowing a bunch of questions before asking one, "can you move your fingers?" She's afraid something might be broken, but he obeys quickly and quite smoothly, although he winces in pain. She takes his hand in both of hers and presses a featherlight kiss to his knuckles before looking at him again, "are you hurt anywhere else?" She gestures to his suit, which covers up the rest of his body.
Harvey tugs at his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt, but his movements are clumsy and uncoordinated. Donna takes over, quickly undoing the buttons and opening up his shirt. When she sees his torso, she can't hold back a soft gasp, although she quickly schools her features. A large bruise spreads over the right side of his ribcage. Another one blooms over his left flank. Already, the bruises are a multitude of colors, ranging from red to purple so dark it's almost black. "Harvey," Donna breathes, a trembling hand reaching out to him, fingertips lightly tracing over his skin.
"What the hell happened?" Donna's question is soft, but firm. Harvey is not getting out of answering this time and he knows it. He pulls her a little closer again, until she is standing between his legs. His hands move to her back, tracing invisible patterns, reassuring himself that she is here and that she is safe, "I'm so glad you're okay," he mutters. Her hands are on his biceps, and she squeezes softly, "what are you talking about? You're the one who got beat up, Harvey."
Harvey swallows, eventually meeting Donna's inquiring gaze. "I had that meeting," he starts, the details a little fuzzy in his hurting head, "I walked back, to pick up groceries. But before I got to the store I was pulled into an alley. Some guy told me to drop the case. I said I wouldn't, he tried to convince me otherwise. With his fists. I fought back, but then there was another guy. I got a blow to the head," he exhales slowly, trying to remember the sequence of events, "I think I was out for a second. Next thing I knew I was on the street. They kicked me, just once. Then they said I better think about it again. They said they knew where we lived and maybe they would have more luck persuading you." He looks at Donna, "I was so worried they hurt you."
For a few seconds, Donna doesn't know what to say. Then she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. Her thumbs stroke circles over his arms, "I'm taking you to the hospital," she decides. "No," he protests, shaking his head. A wrong move that leaves him in pain, dizzy and a little nauseous. She cocks her head sideways, silently admonishing him, "you could have broken your ribs. Or your hand. Or have a brain bleed." She tells him. "No," he repeats, "I've had enough boxing injuries in my life to know what's okay and what's really bad. This is fine. I just want to sleep."
Another moment passes, but then Donna nods slightly, "okay. But I'm waking you every two hours to make sure you're not dead." She moves her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. Suddenly his eyes seem to clear a little, panic setting in, "I need to call Mike. And Arthur. We need to-" "-you don't need to do anything. I'll take care of it," Donna reassures him, "why don't you take a shower, clean up and relax a little. I will call Mike." Harvey releases a breath, looking at Donna and hoping his eyes convey all the words he cannot manage to string together right now. She leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "it will be okay."