Prompt #41 by cassie_ether: "Donna and Harvey have to spend Christmas Eve in a haunted house. Any genre, so long as there are a couple of scares ;) Can be pre or post canon."
"N-nope. Ab-solutely n-not." Harvey's teeth chatter violently as he stands clutching his coat, whippets of snow lashing his windburn cheeks. Donna is a step ahead of him, the torch on her phone illuminating a decaying, chained gate. Beyond the ominous rust lies a rickety old house, at least three stories from what he can see through the raging blizzard, but the structure is clear enough in his mind. It bears an eerie resemblance to the dwelling in The Amityville Horror, a movie Donna picked for them to watch on Halloween, and he flinches when she ignores his protest, fiddling with the bulky padlock.
"The c-car isn't t-that far." He tries again to dissuade her from breaking into the property, the effort rewarded with a tightly pinched glare. He can hardly blame her for the response. Even if they could find their way back to the rental in the poor conditions, they can't do anything about the flat tire until the weather improves. All they'd wind up doing is draining the car's battery to run the heater, compounding their problems in the morning. Seeking shelter was a unanimous decision. He was just hoping for a nice, friendly family living on a farm, not an unwelcoming house that Michael Myers would feel at home in. "M-maybe we should check up t-the road," he stutters, in one last-ditch attempt to avoid every horror movie cliché he's been privy to since he started dating Donna.
If her eyeballs weren't frozen she'd roll them, and she exerts the energy she has left, yanking down the lock and unfastening it from the chain. After taking a wrong turn off Route 81, somewhere near Scranton, they're practically in the middle of nowhere. She doesn't blame Harvey for getting them lost. The storm came up out of the blue, and at the time it made sense to look for a motel off the highway. But the battery on her phone is nearly flat, and there's no guarantee they'll find another shelter within walking distance. Their safest option is the one right in front of them, and she leads the way, battling against overgrown shrubbery as she makes a beeline for the creaking porch.
Harvey races to stay close, shielding his face as branches scrape against the windows, the sound irritating his teeth as he follows Donna up to a tired and worn wooden door. He catches her arm with his frozen fingers, steering her back. Even though all of his instincts are against going inside, he forces himself to be chivalrous, testing the knob. It turns easily, vindicating his irrational fear that the house is probably haunted, but Donna doesn't share his hesitation. She bumps him as she barrels through, frantically rubbing her hands together as they step into a dark, run down lobby.
"Hello?" she calls out, holding up her phone to light the space. The sound of her voice echoes in a large living area to her left, the room housing some tattered furniture and a blocked off fireplace. To her right is a smaller room, and a large hallway with more doors as far as she can see into the darkness. Directly ahead of them is an enormous staircase, leading up to more pitch blackness, and all the worn signs indicate whoever lived in the house moved out a long time ago.
"This place is huge," she murmurs as Harvey shuffles closer. "We should—"
Bang.
The front door slams closed, and she jumps, spinning her torch around.
Harvey squeezes his eyes shut, trying to slow his racing heart as he grumbles. "Just the wind, right?"
She nods, slapping off her wet gloves and bundling them into her pocket. The place is creepy, but it's dry and shelter from the blowing gale. They can make do for the night, and she nudges her husband's side, attempting to wipe the scowl off his face. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?"
"I don't believe in Santa, either." He approaches the door hesitantly. "But that hasn't stopped us from driving up to see your parents for Christmas." With a quick breath, he turns the knob, surprised that it isn't locked. He was half expecting them to be trapped inside, but the only thing stopping them leaving is the howling storm outside.
He closes the door again, and she smirks."Satisfied?"
"That this place is haunted? Yes." He removes his own gloves, resigning himself to the fact they're staying.
"Trust me." She grins, stepping forward to dust the ice off his jacket. "Nothing here can be scarier than my mother cooking a roast."
He chuckles, but it isn't Clara's cooking he's worried about. Although he cleared the air with Jim, this will be the first time he's meeting the man as Donna's husband. He didn't exactly call up to ask for permission, and now he's culpable for Donna's fib. Back at the car she rang and said they were waiting out the storm in a hotel, and he can only imagine how Jim will react when he learns the truth. "On second thought, maybe we should spend the holidays here."
She laughs softly, reaching up on her toes to kiss him, and drawing in any spare warmth he can offer.
He shivers at the icy feel of her lips as he cups her cheek. It's no surprise that she's cold, but in a thinner coat she's obviously suffering worse than he is, and he pulls back with a furrowed brow. "You're freezing."
She rolls her eyes. They both are, but pins and needles are slowly seeping into her body, which has to be a good sign. Out of the elements, all they have to do is find a way to warm up and they'll be fine. "There might be a working fireplace upstairs," she suggested, slipping her hands down to check her phone. "My battery is getting low, so one of us should look for candles and matches."
They agreed to keep his phone off for emergencies, but he slips it out, feeling more comfortable holding the weight in his palm. "We shouldn't split up." She throws him an indignant look, but he stays firm with his caution. They have no idea what could be lurking in the darkness, supernatural or not. "Kitchen is probably down that way," he says, taking her hand and staring down the bleak passageway.
"Come on then." She gives him tug, holding up her torch and leading the way. When they get back to Seattle, the first thing she's going to do is tell Mike and Rachel about his sudden and cute apprehension of the paranormal.
They pass several closed doors, and one that's slightly ajar, but she doesn't stop to investigate her curiosity. Harvey was right. The hallway opens into a large kitchen with rusted pots and utensils scattered around, giving her hope the previous owners left behind what they need.
Harvey lets go of her hand and picks up a dusty ladle off the bench, smirking across at her. "This looks like your old kitchen."
"Very funny." She fights a grin, moving to the nearest set of drawers, rummaging around in them while he checks the cupboards above her.
Crash.
A noise explodes behind them as they're plunged into darkness, her heart racing as she frantically presses her phone's dead screen.
"What the hell was that!?"
The light from Harvey's phone shines directly in her face, and she uses his arm to pull herself up. "Sounds like something fell over."
He swears under his breath, his chest hammering as he pulls her behind him. "Stay close to me." He carefully creeps forward. The sound came from the hallway, and he's sure he saw something move a split second before Donna's phone died. As he nears the threshold, his light moves over a door that's now wide open, and every muscle in his body twists with petrified fear as two wild eyes jump out in front of him.
Squeak.
The raccoon lurches onto its heels, and Harvey grips the wall as the adrenaline flooding him leaves in a rush. With another squeak, the animal scampers into the room, and he quickly closes the door. The bloody thing almost gave him a heart attack. "It's okay," he calls out, walking back. "It was just a—"
He stops as his beam falls over the empty kitchen. "Donna?" His nerves start pounding again as he glances around. There's nowhere she could have gone. The only entrance is through the hallway, and his voice rattles as he calls out. "This isn't funny."
He feels a bellow of air across his neck, and he spins, sure he catches a glimpse of her fiery red hair disappearing in the darkness. Right when he's about to step toward the fleeing shadow, a firm hand clamps down on his shoulder.
"I found candles." Donna smiles proudly. She had to squeeze herself into the slim pantry to reach them, but there were also matches, and she grins holding up the box.
"Jesus, Donna." He swipes a hand across his face, trying to shake off the unease clenched in his stomach. Whatever he thought he saw was obviously just his mind playing tricks, but he doesn't like being at the far end of the house and away from the door. "Let's get out of here."
She feels bad for startling him, and she doesn't argue, following behind him.
They enter the large living space, and she bypasses a torn old couch, kneeling down on the floor instead. Harvey hovers above her with his torch, looking around the room, and rolling his eyes at two perfectly placed candelabras on the mantle. "Of course."
"What?" She glances over her shoulder, watching him move across to the fireplace.
"Convenient," he huffs, picking up the dusty silverware. It's like the house is inviting them to go traipsing through it, but Donna doesn't look fazed, shaking her head with a smile.
Once all the candles are lit, he turns off his phone, sliding into his pocket and helping Donna up. "We could just stay here," he suggests, lifting the candelabras off the floor and handing one over. "I can think of a few ideas to keep us warm."
He smirks. But her Christmas to-do list didn't involve sex in an abandoned house, and she'd rather not get naked in a room with three inches of dust covering everything. "If you're scared, you can stay here," she teases, baiting him into following her.
He sighs, catching up to her, and she smiles as he takes her hand again, surprised that, at the base of the stairs, he offers to go first.
"Your father will kill me if you fall through a two-story building," he grumbles, testing his weight on each creaky step.
A slight blush covers her cheeks as he puts her safety above his fear of the unknown, leading the way up to the landing. There's another, narrower staircase, but the rest of the level is a rabbit warren of walls and corridors disappearing into dark corners and shadows. The space seems impossibly huge compared to downstairs and whoever designed the layout obviously had eccentric taste. But there's no point going further than necessary, and she nudges Harvey to the closest door.
Smash.
Shattering glass bellows behind him, his feet tripping forward into the room, and he turns around to make sure Donna's okay, when the door slams shut in front of his face."Dammit!" He lunges for the handle, finding it wedged in place, and he pounds on wood with his fist. "Donna!"
"I'm fine," she gasps, staring at the branches that came barreling through the window. "A tree fell down." She shivers as cold air rushes in, and she hunches over the candles to keep the lights from flickering out. The handle on her side rattles again, but the force of the wind must have jammed or broken the lock."Can you see another way out?"
He rests his forehead against the door, counting down from five to steady his fear. The last thing he wants to do is turn around. Every hair on the back of his neck is standing on edge, the feeling of being watched crawling over his body. But he takes a deep breath, slowly moving and lifting the candles to light the room. In one corner, an empty chair is sitting in front of a dusty piano, and on the other side is a narrow corridor leading to God knows what other creepy, terrifying rooms.
"Far left-hand corner." He calls behind him, muttering to himself, "and it's grounds for a divorce."
There's no way out that she can see from her vantage point, but there's a corridor she can take that should hopefully connect up. "I think I can go around."
He swipes his face in frustration. The last thing they need is for her to wind up lost or trapped in a room as well. "Stay there. It'll be easier for me to find you again."
Another gust of wind whistles through, almost blowing out her candles, but she doesn't argue with him. She won't go far, just somewhere she can wait out of the cold. "Be careful."
He snorts, the whole place creaking as he turns away from the grand piano, and the sensation of being watched grows as he propels himself over and into the small, narrow corridor.
Wherever it leads, he just hopes the feeling doesn't follow him.
...
Once around the corner, Donna comes face to face with two doors, and she bites her lip, weighing up whether to try them. She told Harvey she'd stay put, but the whole point of coming up here was to find a fireplace, so she tests the handle on the right, disappointed to find it locked. The left knob, however, turns with ease, and she peeks inside, finding a room that looks like a study or library. There are no books, but several empty bookcases stretch across the walls, and she places one careful foot ahead of the other, jumping when a bump sounds through the wall.
"Harvey," she calls his name, wondering if it's possible he's on the other side. But she's greeted by silence and keeps moving to where a passage connects the adjoining room. Ducking her head under a low beam, she swipes away a handful of cobwebs, coming out in what looks like it was once the master bedroom. There's a rusted iron frame sitting on top of a rotting tapestry rug, and she covers her nose at the over-pouring odor of damp mold.
The windows are sealed shut, and she doesn't know how water leaked in, but she takes a shallow breath, trying not to swallow the rancid air, when out of nowhere a hard push slams between her shoulder blades.
She shrieks, the wood beneath her feet splintering as the candles fly out of her hand, plunging her vision into darkness. Her palms hit the ground with a loud smack, pain reeling in her ankle as she tries to push herself up, but a smothering weight keeps her pinned down. Her heart races in her chest, her arms paralyzed by the unseen force, and she tries to scream, but the sound is stolen by a vacuum of dizziness as every muscle in her body goes limp.
…
"Donna!" Harvey cups his fist, shouting as loudly as he can. He tasked her with one simple request, but he isn't really surprised to be standing alone where they separated. His wife's fearlessness is something he admires about her. But on the other hand, there are times, like now, her stubbornness can easily rile him.
He just fought his way out several rooms that are probably going to give him nightmares for years to come, including one with a broken cott and a shelf full of creepy looking dolls. His hands and clothes are filthy, he's covered in cobwebs, and he didn't see any sign of a second fireplace. Wherever Donna went, he doubts she's having any more luck than he is, and he glances at all the different ways she could have gone. Up, back down, or through any number of shadowy corridors, but his ears pick up a faint voice in the direction he came from. He retraces his steps to the door he stumbled out of , finding another one to the left.
He tries the handle, finding it locked.
"Donna!?"
Growing frustrated, he's about to try a different way when a distinct click echoes near where his hand is hanging, and his fingers twitch nervously. His first assumption is that Donna's screwing with him, and he doesn't know if he's disappointed or relieved to find the handle still stuck, but he jiggles it harder, shouldering the door, and falling through into a room filled with empty bookcases. "Donna?"
"In here."
He hastens his strides, following her voice, and ducking his head under a low beam, grunting as more cobwebs cling to his face.
"Didn't I specifically say—"
The words freeze on his lips as he steps out, the light from his candles illuminating her body sprawled across the floor. "Donna!" He crashes down, lifting the narrow bookcase off her limp form. She must have passed out, and he shakes her gently, rousing her awake. "Where does it hurt?"
She blinks groggily, trying to remember what happened, the musty smell triggering her memory of being pushed. She jumps, crying out when her ankle twists between the rotting floorboards.
"Easy." He slides his hand down her calf, helping her turn at the right angle so she can pull herself free.
"We need to go, now." She doesn't care if she sounds crazy, wincing as she uses his arm to leverage herself up. "I'm serious. Someone was in here with me."
He stiffens, swinging his candles around the room for any sign of an intruder, but as he takes in the scene, and the collapsed leg on the bookcase, he doesn't think it was a person or a ghost who attacked her.
She follows his gaze, embarrassment crawling along her neck. But it didn't feel like a piece of furniture that knocked her down, and she balances awkwardly on her uninjured leg. "Can we please just go downstairs?"
"No argument here." He slips his arm around her waist, supporting her as she hobbles back the way they came. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, worried she might have a concussion.
She nods. Nothing hurts, aside from her ankle, and there's no real reason she should have fainted, but she doesn't dwell, focusing her efforts on getting down the stairs in one piece.
When they're safely on the ground level again, she sighs, the sound turning into a scream when a flash of lightning illuminates a man standing in the foyer.
Harvey's grip digs into her skin as he pulls her back, and she clamps her hand over her mouth, blood rushing between her ears as the shadow moves forward.
"I'm incredibly sorry, miss. I didn't mean to startle you. Damn thing." The older man rattles the torch in his fist, bringing the light back on, and pointing over his shoulder. "I saw a car back up the road. Noticed the gate was open. I'm the groundsman here, William Moore."
Harvey feels Donna relax, and he loosens his death-like grip on her when William extends his arm. Harvey takes it, introducing himself with a nervous rattle. "Harvey Specter." He clears his throat. "This is my wife, Donna. Our car broke down, and we were looking for somewhere to wait out the storm."
The older gentleman smiles warmly. "My cottage is around the back. It isn't much," he admits. ''But it's a darn sight more homely than in here. You're welcome to stay until morning."
"Thank you." Donna finally finds her heat flooding her cheeks as William's gaze drops to her ankle. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, instantly feeling bad for the damage she caused. "We were looking for a fireplace and I... tripped over some boards."
William lifts his head, glancing up over her shoulder. "She's an old house, nothing to worry yourself about."
"We're happy to pay for any damage, and for putting you out for the night," Harvey adds, not wanting to take advantage of the groundsman's generosity.
"Nonsense, Mr. Specter. Your money's no good here." He smiles again. "The path outside needs some work, too, I'm afraid. How's that ankle? Can you put weight on it?"
"I've got her." Harvey grins at the annoyed look Donna shoots his way. She's not helpless, but if she turns on her ankle in the snow, they'll probably both go down. It's safer for him to carry her around. "Complain and I'll make it a fireman's lift."
She resigns herself with a sigh, and he blows out the candles, putting them down so both his hands are free. She smirks, winding her arms around his neck. "If you drop me, I'm telling my father."
He hoists her up smugly. "Good. That way I can explain how his stubborn daughter didn't listen when I told her to stay put."
She pretends to think for a moment. "You know, maybe we shouldn't mention any of this to my parents."
He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. "Deal."
William opens the door, shielding his face from a gust of wind and snow. "Stay close. We'll have the two of you wrapped up and warm in no time. Follow me."
Donna snuggles her face into Harvey's chest, hiding herself from the blistering cold. Despite her teasing, she has complete faith in him, and she clutches his coat as he jostles her over the rough terrain.
Harvey squints through the poor visibility, navigating through overgrown branches and bushes, tempted to point out William might need to hang up his hat and find a younger groundsman to maintain the foliage. But he's relieved when a clearing pops up through the haze of the storm. As promised, a small cottage is steeped in snow, and when William pries open the door, he barrels inside, checking on Donna's shivering form. "You okay?"
She peels herself away, nodding.
"I'll get the fire going." William shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on a hook by the wall.
Harvey gently sets Donna down, looking for somewhere she can sit, but it's too dark to see much with just the light of William's torch. He feels around, finding a chair, and he drags it behind her. "Here."
She lowers herself, still trembling as Harvey kneels down and takes her fingers in his, blowing air and rubbing their hands together. Behind him, she hears the sound of wood being piled, and in a few moments warm flames spark and flicker into life.
"There." William smiles at the quickly growing fire, pushing himself up. "There's a cot in the corner. Should fit the two of you. I'll take the couch in the other room."
Harvey's able to make out the frame, and feels bad for stealing the man's bed. If it weren't for Donna's injury, he'd insist she take the couch while he sleeps on the floor, but Donna, obviously thinking the same thing, doesn't hesitate to make the offer.
"We can sleep in the other room." She smiles gratefully, just happy to be feeling heat on her skin. "It's no problem."
"She's right." Harvey takes Donna's lead, squeezing her hand. "You've already done more than enough to help us."
"Don't be worried about these old bones." William chuckles, waving off their concern. "You two just get a good night's sleep."
"Thank you, William," Harvey says earnestly, wishing the man a goodnight.
Donna watches his shadow disappear, suddenly feeling exhausted and leaning back with a sigh.
"How's the ankle?" Harvey gingerly touches her shoe, undoing her laces.
"I think it's just a sprain," she hums as he carefully slips off her boot. Even though she's bone-cold, and his hands are no better, the dull throb would probably be worse if she wasn't freezing.
Her sock is dry, so he keeps it on, but he works off her other shoe, and he stands up, helping her out of her coat. He disrobes his own, stripping them both down until they're left in their t-shirts and undergarments. By the time she limps over to the cot, the air is already crackling with warmth, and he helps her under the blanket, climbing in beside her.
He tugs her into his arms, sliding his hand around her back. "Better?"
"Yeah," she answers sleepily, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. She blinks, trying to keep them open, but they fall shut, and the next time she opens them, daylight is streaming into the cabin.
She yawns, stretching as Harvey's light snore tickles the top of her head. But as she slowly moves into the land of the living, she frowns, shoving Harvey in the chest as she sits up.
"What—"
He startles awake, and she squeezes his arm, cutting off his confusion with her own. "Look."
He rolls onto his side, groggily trying to figure out what the problem is, when he sees what she's talking about. They didn't get a good look at the place last night, and William warned them it wasn't much, but the table across from them is dusty and worn. Cobwebs are hanging from a bookcase in the corner, and even though the fire probably died hours ago, there's no sign it was ever lit. No wood, no kindling, no ashes.
William's coat is gone from the door, but he manages a casual shrug, reasoning them out of her worry with a rational explanation. "William said he was the groundsman, Donna, not that he lives here."
She folds her arms over her chest. "So he just happened to stop by last night, out of the blue?"
Harvey chuckles, not sure what she's suggesting, but in the light of day, his irrational fear of ghosts isn't his biggest concern. "We should get back to the car. How's the ankle?"
She sighs, wiggling it under the blanket. To her surprise, there's barely a twinge. "It's fine. I should be able to walk on it."
"Good." He presses a quick kiss to her forehead, climbing out of the cot.
"Aren't you even a little curious?" she asks, watching as he collects their clothes. "William didn't even wait to say goodbye."
"He's probably up in the house checking the damage after the storm." He tosses her jeans and sweater onto the bed, shrugging on his own trousers.
She gets dressed, supposing Harvey has a point. And besides, they shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. If William hadn't shown up when he did, they both would have been a lot worse off, and she slips on her coat, testing putting weight on her ankle as she pads across the room.
She stops at the bookcase, picking up a dusty back and white photo, and she smiles at the kind eyes reflected back, until the whole picture pulls into focus. "Harvey." She calls him over with a shaky voice. "Come here."
He does up his buttons as he moves over to her, looking over her shoulder. In her hands is a spitting image of Willam Moore, same age, same warm grin, but the photo wasn't taken recently.
"His grandfather?" Donna tries to justify how the man looks identical to William.
"Yeah." Harvey clears his throat. "How about we get the hell out of here?"
She puts the frame on the dusty shelf, taking his hand. "We can send a thank you note," she agrees, because one thing's for sure.
Neither of them are going back into that damn house.