Index of Terms
The Order: A vampire organisation made up of eight councils in Phoenix, Chicago, Denver, Seattle, LA, Austin, Miami and New York. The Order acts as a government to vampires and maintains the secrecy of their race from humans.
Consensuals: Humans contracted by The Order for vampires to feed on.
Initiation: The process of officially swearing a human into The Order so they can gain full access to information and records.
Debriefing: Wiping a human memory.
Source-blood: Blood of the First Vampire.
Warnings: Contains themes of violence, torture and horror.
AN: As always, thank you to Yvonne/Southsidesister (darvey_love) and Beth (NAhavenbb) ❤️
Chapter 6: Ambush
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For the first time in years, Harvey wakes up from a deep sleep, his mind groggy but his own again as they start their descent into New York. He can still sense the blood of The First Vampire that's being kept under Mike's watchful guard, but he no longer feels her influence conflicting him. Destroying her tomb and the power that had been manifesting there for centuries was necessary. He was only just able to ward off his impulses, where Darius would have let them flow freely, becoming unstoppable.
He sits up with a grunt, glancing around the cabin. Mike is stirring too, but Donna is already up, smiling at him with a teasing grin.
"What?" he pouts, raking a hand through his spiky hair.
"That's the first time I've ever seen you sleep." She bats his fingers away, smoothing down the tufts that are sticking out at odd ends. "You looked—"
"If you say, cute—"
"Peaceful," she finishes, resting her palms over his shoulders. "It was nice to see you relaxed for a change, that's all."
He's tempted to point out he'd be more relaxed if she stopped landing herself in danger. But as much as he hates to admit it, he needed her and Mike with him in the cavern. If they hadn't been there to ground him, he's afraid the First Vampire's influence would have led him to act rashly and he wouldn't have been able to control himself.
"See?" She smoothes her thumb over the wrinkles digging in his brow, her lips twitching into a frown. "This is what I'm talking about."
He sighs, clutching her waist. At work, he's an arrogant optimist. Going into a case, he truly believes it can be won;his opponents beaten without breaking a sweat. He's channeled his past into becoming the best closer NYC has seen. But his day job doesn't compare to the atrocities he witnessed and, in some cases, even helped Darius enact.
He wouldn't call their mission in Paris a walk in the park, but getting in and out was easier than he'd expected. Almost too easy. They can't afford to relax. "We need to be careful."
"I know that, Harvey."
Her eyes are soft, full of reliance. But he's spent nearly a decade studying them with lingering looks. Whenever he suspected her of deflecting, he'd been too scared to question her, afraid of where the truth might lead. Now, he doesn't want them to hide from each other. Jessica said she's a part of this war whether he likes it or not. And after seeing her suffer through a second vision, he can't keep denying the power that's growing inside her. "The Bloodkeeper thing… how are… I mean, is it… Are you okay?"
He stumbles over the question in typical Harvey fashion, but she appreciates him asking. If they were home by themselves, she might even search for the words to tell him she's confused, scared, relieved she could help. But it's all a mess in her head, and when Mike shifts on the leather behind her, waking up with a yawn, she decides the conversation is one they can have later. "I'm okay."
Her smile seems forced to him, but he pockets the observation for now, motioning for her to sit beside him and buckle up.
"I was just having the craziest dream—oh." Mike glances around the cabin, his 'dream' cementing around him. "Frogs. There were lots of frogs."
He clears his throat, and Harvey lets out a low chuckle. He has to hand it to Mike. The kid is doing a far better job than he did with his first patent claim. And he makes a mental note to check in with him, just as soon as they figure out what to do with the source-blood.
They land on time as dusk is settling, and Harvey sends a message to Jessica, telling her to meet them back at his place. He wants to catch her up before they tell The Order what they found, and God knows he could use a hot shower, but the second his shoes hit the tarmac, he feels a gust of wind blow past him, knocking his and Donna's packs to the ground, and fear lurches in his stomach as the blur materializes holding her a few feet away from him.
"Well, you three certainly took your time daliancing." Darius squeezes his arm around Donna's chest, grinning maliciously at his former soldier.
Harvey lunges forward, but Mike grabs him with a hard tug, panic rushing through Mike's body as Darius' eyes fall on him with an amused gleam.
"Interesting company you've been keeping. Has the world changed so? That our kind would keep humans in their arsenal?" The ancient vampire recognizes the lanky stranger from the last time they were all in the same building. At the time he thought nothing of the beanstalk, but his nostrils flare at the powerful scent concealed by the mortal's pack. He knew Harvey would scurry off to find the First Vampire's blood, and he taunts his former soldier with a smirk, in no rush to reap his reward. "I can certainly understand your fondness for this one." The Bloodkeeper struggles harder as he sweeps her hair to the side, propelling a laugh from his throat. "She is feisty, isn't she?"
"Enough!" Harvey growls viciously, the veins in his temple bulging as he bares his fangs. "Let her go, now!"
"Of course." Despite the assurance, he lifts his large hand to her exposed neck, cupping and squeezing her sternum with a cruel grin. "In exchange for the source-blood."
Donna gasps, trying to shake her head, but Darius' grip is too tight.
Rage seethes through Harvey, every fibre of his being screaming to drink the blood himself, to give them a fighting chance, but Darius will snap her neck before a drop even gets close to his lips. They don't have a choice, and he hisses at Mike. "Give it to him."
"Mike, don't—"
Darius chokes Donna's plea, and Mike feels nauseous as he shakily slides the pack off his shoulders. All three of them would make the ultimate sacrifice rather than hand over the bottle, but he can't make that decision on Donna's behalf. And in all likelihood, if anything happens to her, then Darius will move faster than Harvey and get the blood, anyway.
With shaking fingers he pulls out the flask, hesitating before throwing the end of their existence over.
"So fickle, these humans." Darius keeps hold of the Bloodkeeper's throat, taking great delight in her hoarse whimper as he brutally yanks her arm back with a sickening crack. "So easy to break."
"Mike!" Harvey snaps, his fists wound so tight he can feel his own bones splintering.
Donna hears Harvey yell something else, but the words are lost beneath a rush in her ears and the burning sensation in her lungs. The tarmac grey's in and out, her vision spiraling, and then suddenly her knees slam against the hard gravel, her chest heaving as air rushes back in and pain tears through her wrist.
Harvey dives without thinking, launching his arm around her body to take her weight.
Mike doesn't move, staring in horror as Darius drinks the blood, fire igniting his eyes like the sconces in the chamber. Mike weakly grips the knife in his pack, doubting it will do much good, but then he blinks, and Darius is gone—a menacing laugh ringing in Mike's ears. He spins around, half expecting to have his neck snapped, but there's no sign of the vampire. No gust of wind, nothing. It's like he just vanished.
His gaze reels back to Donna's rattling gasps and drops beside her and Harvey, his pack and the knife clattering on the ground.
"What took you so goddamn long!" Harvey snaps his fury at Mike. The man should have given Darius what he wanted the second he was told to.
"The blood?" She ignores Harvey's fussing, cradling her arm and panicking at Mike's forlorn look. She didn't see what happened, but he shakes his head with a heavy sigh, and she knows it's already too late.
"Forget about that," Harvey instructs. There's nothing they can do, and he's more concerned with the angry marks around Donna's neck and the pain she's in. He can't heal broken bones or bruises, not directly. He needs to make an incision first and turns for the knife he heard drop.
"Ah, guys…" Mike points to the blade which is now pulsing with an orange glimmer. "It definitely wasn't doing that before."
Donna stares at it with wide eyes, feeling Aafiyah's power emanating from it. If Darius absorbed her blood, then it's feasible a few drops clinging to another object could create a new vessel—a weapon against him. She tries to reach for it, doubling over when a jolt stabs through her arm. "Ow, dammit!"
"Easy." Harvey grinds his jaw as he helps her up. He can feel the essence, too. But the hope is tainted by his anger. He swore he wouldn't let Darius near her again, and he snaps a harsh glare at Mike. "Put that thing away!"
Mike scrambles the object into his pack, glancing around the empty tarmac. "He is gone though, right?"
Harvey answers with a firm nod as he extends Donna's arm, flashing his fangs. Far from being a coward, Darius is a sadist, fuelled by revenge and addicted to games. Killing them now wouldn't be anywhere near as satisfying as toying with them first. He bites down, his teeth breaking Donna's skin, and his gaze holds a silent apology as her eyes spring with moisture. But he moves quickly, slicing his thumb and spilling his blood into the two puncture wounds. "It's going to take a little longer to heal the bone."
A familiar warmth tingles through her body, but instead of absorbing the pain like it usually would, she feels a numbing sensation, her wrist still twinging as Harvey helps her up. But it isn't the injury she's worried about. After having fought to convince Harvey she isn't a liability, she just proved him right, and his silence as he collects their packs fuels her guilt.
"You okay?" Mike asks, pressing his hand to her back.
She nods, forcing a smile. But the truth is none of them are okay. And unless they can come up with a plan quickly, the rest of the world won't be, either.
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"How the hell could you let this happen!?"
Donna doesn't need super-hearing to overhear Jessica's harsh whisper echo through Harvey's condo, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment as Harvey defends himself from a few feet away.
"It was an ambush, Jessica. Darius knew we were going to be there. He would have taken the blood no matter what I did."
Jessica sends a hard look her way, and she shakes her head, clasping her hands together. Harvey's probably right, but the I instead of we doesn't go unnoticed, and she still feels like the one being scolded. Maybe she deserves to be. It was her idea to take the blood with them, and Harvey warned her about letting their guard down. Mike's plan to destroy the chamber could have worked. Even though it would only have slowed Darius down, maybe they could have used that time to think of a way to stop Darius before he got to the source-blood.
The urge to apologize bubbles up in her throat, but Mike, who's beside her on the couch, jostles the pack between his knees, interrupting the tense silence.
"Cool, glowy knife, remember? We can still fight him."
Harvey rolls his eyes, but for once, he doesn't berate Mike's optimism. He leaves that to Jessica.
"And did you happen to put a GPS tracker on Darius before he took off?"
Harvey grunts his frustration at Mike. "That was rhetorical."
Mike slumps in defeat, and Jessica sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. The Order sanctioned the mission after learning Donna is the Bloodkeeper, but she avoided mentioning Mike. Except now, they have no choice. It's not safe for him to go back to work or be left unguarded, and despite all their recklessness, as the only one of them not affected by the source-blood, he should be in charge of the knife. At least until they have a solid plan. "The Order will be ready for us in an hour. You three shower, get dressed, and be quick about it."
"We three?" Mike asks, his voice piquing nervously. "As in, we're all going?"
"He hasn't been initiated, yet," Harvey reminds her. He could give a shit about the rules, but The Order are going to be livid they weren't informed about Mike's full involvement, and they can't risk the chance he'll be debriefed out of spite.
"I think they have bigger things to worry about, right now. Don't you?" Jessica's voice is thick with sarcasm. Whatever the consequences, they won't be half as bad as whatever Darius has planned, which is why they need to stop talking and get moving. "I'll scout ahead. Make sure Darius hasn't caught wind of this."
She doesn't leave room for any argument, and Harvey huffs air into his cheek, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair as the door to his condo slams shut.
"Goddamn it!," he curses swiftly under his breath. Jessica's acting like they called up Darius and made a drop-off, but she didn't think to place security at the airport, either. But deep down he knows she's right. He should have anticipated the ambush, and he's livid with himself for underestimating Darius. "I'll take a shower first."
Donna watches him gruffly stomp across the room, his heavy foot-fall tightening the knot in her stomach, and she breathes in deeply, still wracked with guilt.
"Hey." Mike presses his palm gently over her knee. "We couldn't have known Darius was going to be there."
"We?" she snorts bitterly. Maybe he or Harvey couldn't have known, but she's the Bloodkeeper. Darius was inside her head. And if she knew how to control her powers maybe she could have predicted his ambush. "I should have—" She stops abruptly, eyeing the pack he's clutching. "Mike, give me the knife."
He tightens his grip on the bag. "What for?"
She rolls her eyes at his hesitation. "Back in the cavern, all I had to do was touch the tree and I had a vision. Maybe I can use it to see where Darius is."
"We'll, sure… I guess. I just mean," he stumbles over himself, "shouldn't we wait for Harvey?"
"What if I see something that could help Jessica now," she reasons. Every second they waste is time they don't have, and she fixes Mike with a pointed look. "It's not an exorcism. I'll be fine."
"Okay." He finally agrees, unzipping the bag and placing the knife between them on the coffee table. "They're just memories, right?"
"Right." She nods."What's the worst that can happen?"
"Seriously?" He's tempted to steal the object back and not tempt fate, but she throws him a small smile and he sighs. "I really wish you hadn't said that."
With a slight shrug, her fingers hover over the blade, and she can feel the power thrumming beneath them. Not as strong as in the chamber, but still unlike anything she's experienced up until then. For a brief second she hesitates, mourning how just a week ago she was a normal, ordinary human. But if doing them can help Harvey, she has to try. So, she lays her hand down and is absorbed by a white flash.
Baltimore, Maryland, 1897
"No, please, don't—"
Hands that aren't her own reach out toward the begging woman, cutting off her scream with a sickly snap, and Donna tries to slam her eyes closed but can't.
When she saw Epiphanios and Aafiyah in the cave she was an observer, but this is like her first vision of Epiphanios. She's trapped inside a host, but instead of feeling grief, a white-hot rage burns through her body like fire.
She's hungry, starving for chaos, not the blood sprayed across the walls. There are bodies littering her feet, their dresses from a long time ago, although she can't pinpoint the era and doesn't want to. The smell of death is suffocating, and just like the sob tearing in her throat, she wants out. But the sound stays trapped along with her mind, her eyes forced to watch as a young man runs into the room, shouting, tears streaming down his face.
God, no.
She futilely pleads with the host to spare him, willing at least one living soul to be spared, but his appearance only incites the rage boiling through her.
In a flash, she's before him, a fist slugging out to rip the man's heart clean out of his chest. The host turns with an angry snarl, and right as the dead man's body hits the ground, she sees familiar but almost unrecognisable, cold, hard eyes staring back through a mirror spattered with blood on the wall.
She chokes at the image of Harvey, not a day older than he is now, breeding so much callous fury into the slaughter she can't escape. Physically, there's nothing she can do, but she still feels suffocated, betrayed by a gaze that she once thought would protect her at all costs.
She goes rigid inside her mind, terrified, and the need to scream builds like a dam about to burst.
...
Donna's torn from the memory, gasping for air as moisture burns her cheeks. Thinking she's going to be sick, she catapults her head between her knees, shuddering breaths wracking her body.
"What is it? What did you see?" Mike asks frantically, concern welling behind his worried gaze. "Was it Darius?"
"It was me." Harvey clenches his jaw, his clothes damp and his hair dripping as he stands frozen in place behind her. He felt her connect to the memory—the night he took on the Specter name as his own. He relived the gruesome scene alongside her, and he balls his trembling hand into a fist as he addresses Mike. "Shower. Go."
Mike glances between Harvey and Donna, hesitant to leave. But if there's one thing he learned long before he found out about vampires, it's not to get in between them.
He quickly places the knife away before scuttling off the couch, and Donna tries to control her breathing, wiping her eyes as she sits up straighter. What she saw was horrific. But it wasn't her memory to invade. She had no way to escape it, no idea Harvey was present, and she feels even more guilty as she glances up at him. "I… I'm sorry… I thought I could help find Darius. I didn't mean to—"
"Stop." He finds the courage to move his feet forward. "You're not the one who should apologize," he says, moisture pricking his own gaze as he slumps wearily in the chair across from her. "I'm the one who…"
He can't bring himself to finish and doesn't need to. They both saw what happened, and he dips his head shamefully. "I've done a lot of terrible things, Donna, but that night… It isn't fair that you have to live with it now, too. I'm sorry."
His voice cracks, and he doesn't look up, but she doesn't need to be inside his memory to feel the pain radiating from his hunched over body. She isn't naïve. He may have been reluctant to talk about his past, but he's always been open about it and who he was before they met. She just never expected to see it for herself so vividly, or to feel the rage that was consuming him for so long.
She can recall one night, late in the DAs office, after a few too many whiskeys, when she dared to ask what made him change. He told her about a baby he found, and then about Gordon being a direct descendent of the infant. And he even shared with her the painful story of his own son—Thomas. She can fit enough of the pieces together to realize that the massacre she saw was the turning point for Harvey, and queries the story he told her. "The baby? That was the same night."
He nods, a hard lump nestling in his throat. "I took his name, protected him." A sad smile touches his lips. "He lived until he was 53." Old for that time period, but still not an age he can justify. "I'll carry the debt I owe him around for the rest of my life."
She stands up on shaky legs, approaching him cautiously, but the man in her vision isn't who he is now. She can't ever justify what he did to that family or however many others, but the good found a way to take hold and spread. He helps people, through the firm and The Order. He's trying to make the world better, and that's the man she's in love with. "I can't forgive you, Harvey." He glances up, a worried look in his eyes, and she smiles gently. "I can't… Because it's not my place to." She kneels down, brushing the dampness from his cheek. "All that anger and hatred, it doesn't fit inside the person you are now."
He breathes in sharply, wishing he could believe what she's saying is true. But when Darius carved his insignia into her back, when his Maker threatened her not a few feet away, he felt the same anger running deeply through his veins. He can still feel it, a low hum in his gut that the source-blood could have easily unleashed. "Back in the chamber—"
"You fought," she reminds him, remembering his tight grip clenched around his hand. There wasn't one second she doubted her faith in him, and he shouldn't be questioning it either. "Darius is threatening the people you care about. The way you're feeling, that's not hatred, Harvey. It's love."
She drops her arm, and he instinctively catches her fingers, forcing himself to exhale. She should be cowering in fear from what she saw, not giving him a goddamn pep-talk. And during the last few days, he's seen just how much he's taken her for granted in the past. After everything she's been through, she's still the one comforting him, and he reaches down, trying to reciprocate. "Are you okay?" he asks, finding his voice with more confidence. "The truth. Because I don't think any of us are right now."
His forwardness surprises her, and honestly, she doesn't know how to answer him, but he tugs her gently and attempts to put what she's feeling into words. "Ever been on a rollercoaster? Those big ones that stop right before the drop?" He nods, and she suspects he's lying. Even with nearly 300 years under his belt, he doesn't strike her as a fairground kind of guy, but she indulges his attempt to try and understand. "My sister would peer over the edge, getting more and more excited. I was always terrified. I'd focus on other people; their faces, what they were saying, who they were with. Anything so long as I didn't have to think about the ride." She smiles at the memory, because no matter how much she hated the pause, she kept getting back on. "Then the drop would happen, the adrenaline would kick in, and I'd be fearless again. It sounds stupid—"
"It doesn't." He can see the association exactly as she's describing it. With everything she's faced and only a few minutes here and there to stop and catch up, it isn't any wonder that she's scared. And distracting herself with other people's feelings is something he's seen her do time and time again. But she doesn't have to do that around him, not anymore. "I get it."
She scoffs, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she calls his bluff. "You've never even been on a rollercoaster, have you?"
He hasn't. By the time they became mainstream, he was too old for cheap thrills. He never had siblings, and he finds it interesting that she does, because he's never heard her mention a sister before. But he clings to the part of the conversation that's the most relevant. "No," he admits, pulling himself up and resting his hands lightly against her waist. "But there's only one place I'd be looking, and it wouldn't be over the edge." He can't tell her not to be afraid, because he is. Darius has been a step ahead of them every time so far, and now his Maker has the power of the source-blood flowing through his veins the odds of beating him aren't in their favor. But he's not thinking about the drop. He's thinking about the woman in his arms who always puts everyone else first. "We're in this together."
She lifts her gaze, searching his eyes for a diffusion—Donna, I don't want you involved or Donna, this isn't your fight, but when all she sees is acceptance, his reluctance to endanger her buried beneath a gentle smile, she realizes, human, vampire, Bloodkeeper—titles don't matter. They do.
She hears Mike clear his throat before entering, and she takes a step back, turning toward his timid approach.
Deeming it safe, he finds his spot on the couch again, relieved there's no more tension in the air. "Shower's all yours."
She brushes Harvey's arm with a light squeeze. "I'll be quick."
He nods, watching her disappear into her bedroom, and he motions towards the decanter by the window. "Want one?"
"Is the Pope Catholic?"
Harvey smirks, moving to pour them both a finger of scotch. Now he knows how Donna's coping, he wants to ask Mike how he's handling everything, but when he returns to the table with two drinks, they clink awkwardly on the table. He's shit at being empathic. With Donna it's different. She has a way of drawing words out of him, but he has no idea where to start with Mike, and he lops back in his chair, clearing his throat. "So…"
He pauses hesitantly, and Mike grins over his glass, shaking his head. "Seriously? We almost died. Might have started the apocalypse, and that's the best you can come up with?" He takes a gamble, easing his way in the banter, but it pays off when Harvey reaches for his drink.
"Remind me again why I hired you?"
Mike snorts, nodding behind him. "I think we both know you didn't. Donna did."
Harvey chuckles. Mike has a point. Donna's always been his voice of sound judgment, and he knows how hard it must be for Mike sticking to their cover story when he's on the phone to Rachel. But he acts nonchalant as he broaches the subject. "How many times have you called your girlfriend since we left, sixteen, seventeen?"
Mike feels a twinge in his chest, but he brushes it off, not wanting to dwell on something he can't change. This isn't like lying about being a real lawyer. Telling Rachel the truth would put her in danger, and he glosses over Harvey's less than subtle fishing expedition. "You think that's funny… but my excuse for calling so late was you, out on the town and drunk off your ass."
Harvey chuckles, willing to tarnish his reputation for a couple of nights if it means throwing the man a bone. But the truth is, Mike keeping their cover might not be the worst of the man's potential relationship problems. If the council forces a debriefing, he'll fight like hell to stop it… But if they do, Mike could lose more than just his memory from the past couple of days. He doesn't know what other choice they have, but he wants the man to be aware of the situation all the same. "Mike." He turns more serious. "I don't know what The Order is going to do when they find out we lied."
The shift in Harvey's demeanor is clear, but Mike answers the stiffness with a shrug. "Can't be any worse than what Louis did when he found out I wasn't a real lawyer."
"I'm being serious." Harvey places his glass down, urging Mike to listen to him. But before he lists all the possible outcomes, Mike surprises him by cutting straight to the point.
"So am I." He isn't angry, just being honest without letting his doubts creep in. Right now Rachel is less than twenty minutes away, thinking he's at a conference in Boston, and he would give anything to be with her, but he's here, taking risks for her, because her fight gives him strength. Harvey pushes him to challenge himself, but Rachel's the reason he never surrenders. And he'll do whatever is necessary to protect her. "I don't care what they do, Harvey. I know what's at stake."
Harvey hunches over, his drink hanging between his legs as the ghost of a smile twitches his lips. Since the day Mike started, he's given him shit about working hard, rising above the bar other people set and even dressing the part. At first, he didn't care if Mike could meet his expectations. He took an expendable risk. Now they're here, four years later, and Mike isn't the product of all his efforts. The man sitting across from him is too compassionate for his own good, loyal to every admirable cause—which usually lands him in trouble—and he still insists on wearing cheap suits and skinny ties. But whenever Mike flirts with the dark side, making hard choices to benefit the greater good, the younger man knows himself well enough to find peace with those decisions. He's learned from Mike as much as he's taught the man, and honestly, if he could safely debrief him, he probably would: Do him a favor—send him back to Rachel and enjoy however long they might have together. Because when he's with Donna, he's not looking over the edge, but he is now, and he's just as conflicted as he was when he first thought about spilling his secret "I wanted to tell you."
"And I should be pissed," Mike admits, downing the last of his drink. Harvey's always preached to him that loyalty is a two-way street. But keeping Rachel in the dark, moving an entity that could be older than times itself, and handing over the source-blood in exchange for Donna's life—those are the choices Harvey was trying to protect him from having to make. The man's lived 300 years, and he's lived 30, so retrospectively, he's willing to cut Harvey some slack. "But I get why you didn't."
Harvey ducks his head—his silent way of thanking Mike for understanding.
"I am curious though." He waits for the man to lift his gaze again."In four years, you must have come close to slipping up. At least once?"
Harvey smiles. Truth is if it weren't for Donna, his cover probably would have been blown after a month. And they've had multiple close calls over the years, but he winks instead of revealing any. "Not even once."
Mike scoffs a laugh. "You're so full of shit."
"Why do you think I became a lawyer?" He grins, forgetting for a moment that they can't pour another drink and poke fun of the situation. As soon as Donna's ready they have to go, and when she does emerge, fresh-faced in jeans and a clean t-shirt, his body tingles with something; fear, arousal, adrenaline—a mix of all three? They agreed they're a team, and the safest place for her is under The Order's protection, but he still feels unsettled as the three of them prepare to leave. Which is why he catches her wrist, unashamed as he lets Mike take the lead towards his door. They don't know what's waiting for them on the other side, and he's voiced his fears and cautions so many times, he's starting to get sick of them, too.
He doesn't actually believe Darius is waiting in his building, but he does know he can't cross the threshold without savouring the one thing he almost lost today, and he captures Donna's lips, his palms splaying across her back until she needs to break for air.
A hazard of being human.
And a hazard he hopes they'll get to explore for a long time to come.