When Harvey enters their apartment, he is met with silence. He walks through the hallway and notices a trail of Donna's belonging on the way to the bedroom; her coat over the armrest of the couch, her purse on the kitchen island, her heels in the middle of the room. It's not like her; usually she keeps the place tidy – they both do. The little seed of concern he already felt grows a bit, and he makes his way towards their bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible.
The room is cast in the warm light of the setting sun streaming through the large windows. Donna, however, is lying on the bed with her back to the light, fast asleep. She is still wearing the tight, black dress she wore to work today and she hasn't even bothered to get under the covers. Make-up stains on her cheeks betray tears that have run down.
Suddenly, Harvey's heart aches in a whole different way. Until now, he had been so occupied with his own pain that he didn't have space for hers. But now he sees it clearly. He can't ignore her pain anymore, and he doesn't want to either, not when he is seeing her like this. He looks at her for a little while longer, also noticing her pale skin and the bags under her eyes that makeup couldn't fully conceal. He hesitates for a moment, torn between waking her and allowing her to get some rest.
For a few minutes, Harvey stands next to the bed. He leans back against the wall and just watches Donna. His mind is a mess. He is still angry and hurt. Those feelings don't just disappear. Because what she did, was not nothing. Keeping a baby and an adoption from his was not nothing. Just thinking about it, his hands unconsciously ball into fists. But then his eyes fall on her sleeping form again. On rundown makeup and the tension that's visible even in her sleep. And he realizes he hadn't even given her the opportunity to tell her story. He sighs, war still raging in his head. After another look at Donna, he gets his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room, the device to his ear.
Donna is awoken by a warm hand brushing over her arm. She blinks a few times until her vision clears. But even then she isn't sure she's seeing clearly. Harvey is squatted down next to the bed, his face in line with hers, brown eyes warm and brimming with concern. "Hey," he murmurs, his fingers continuing to trail light patterns over her skin.
Donna rubs her eyes, suddenly realizing she must have makeup stains all over her face. She pushes herself up, ignoring the – still heavily present – pain in her head. She looks at him hesitantly. Behind the throbbing, confusion starts clouding her brain. She doesn't understand why Harvey is next to her now. Why he has woken her up. For a moment she is afraid he is finally ready for a real confrontation instead of freezing her out. But if that were the case, he wouldn't be stroking her arm in such a gentle way and he wouldn't have such a soft look in his eyes.
Harvey's hand leaves Donna's arm for a moment, to push a few loose strands of hair out of her face. Her eyes trail his movements. Eyes that are bloodshot and look at him wearily and maybe also a little scared. He can't blame her for that. He can barely understand the turn his emotions made himself. His hand falls back to her arm, he needs a form of contact, after depriving himself of that for the past few days. "How are you?" He softly asks.
The words are a mistake. Harvey knows it as soon as they leave his lips and Donna visibly tenses. The question is too big to be asked in such a casual way. "How is your head?" He amends. She swallows, then shrugs. "Better," she mumbles, never really meeting his eyes. But even in the lines of her face, and the way she lets her shoulders sag, he can read so much. Sadness. Fear. Defeat. He blames himself for doing that to her. Although – he reminds himself – she is the one who made the first mistake. She kept a – literally – life-sized secret from him for years. She messed up, badly.
Donna takes shallow breaths, her eyes bouncing all over the room. The past few days she has felt unsure of herself, something she isn't used to. But it's nothing compared to the way she feels now. She doesn't even have a clue as to what she feels and what is going on. She bites down on her bottom lip, quickly scanning over Harvey's face again. He seems to be genuinely concerned about her. And immediately she feels guilty for the little white lie she just told him about her relentless headache. Another lie. A little voice in the back of her head tells her. And at that, her head feels like it might explode. She takes a slightly deeper breath, meeting Harvey's eyes for a second. Behind the softness, she can still see a darker glow. A certain frustration and anger. Emotions that he is entitled to, but that she had expected to be a lot more prominent.
Silence hangs heavily over the room. But Donna doesn't dare to break it. She is too afraid to say the wrong thing. To set Harvey off again. Especially since she doesn't know what changed to make him look at her and talk to her again. She runs her hand through her hair, taking another deep breath. Trying to find something to say to him. But she doesn't know how to start. She doesn't even know if he wants to talk. So she stays quiet, until he opens his mouth. "I ordered pizza," he softly tells her.
Harvey sees the uncertainty in Donna's eyes. Uncertainty that is hard to miss. "With extra yellow tomatoes," he adds, hoping she understands what he means with that. A look of surprise crosses her features, immediately followed by disbelief. His heart aches a little more and he realizes the past few days have also taken a huge toll on her. He isn't used to this unsure version of her. He stands, and then offers her his hand. She takes it – after an awkward moment of motionlessness.
Donna can almost feel electricity running through her body when Harvey softly squeezes her hand. He gently tugs, and she stands. Close to him, closer than she intended to, but her headache is making her a little dizzy and unfocussed. Suddenly Harvey lets go of her hand, and before she realizes what is happening, his arms are wrapped around her. She freezes, but then she wraps her arms around his waist and leans against his chest. He buries his face into her neck. "I want to figure this out," he whispers, his breath warm against her neck, "I don't want to fight anymore." "Me neither," Donna replies, her voice hoarse from the lump in her throat.
Harvey keeps his arms wrapped tightly until Donna. He feels her trembling against him. He rubs slow circles on her back, and she pulls herself closer into his body. They stay in the little embrace until the doorbell rings. Then Harvey lets go at the same time Donna pulls back. She wipes at her eyes, her gaze cast down. "I'll clean myself up," she mumbles before brushing past him into the bathroom.
Donna splashes some cold water in her face before cleaning off her makeup. She avoids looking in the mirror as she does so, not wanting to look at her own puffy red eyes. She tries to steady herself, taking another few deep breaths. When that doesn't work, she leaves the bathroom anyway, slowly making her way to the living room, where Harvey has put the pizza box on the coffee table and switched on the tv. She sits next to him on the couch, folding her legs underneath her.
After eating – the atmosphere still tense, but less so than the last few days – Harvey can't bear the silence anymore. "Are you-do you… Let's…" He stumbles a little, "is it a good time to talk?" He doesn't want to push her if her head is still hurting too much. She hesitantly meets his eyes, "yes," she tentatively replies, "if… If that's what you want. Whatever you want." She softly says.
Harvey nods, suddenly feeling restless and a little afraid of this conversation. "I'll clean up first," he mumbles, grabbing the empty pizza box and making his way to the kitchen. "Do you want some tea?" He calls out, already starting to boil the water. He grabs two mugs and her favorite flavor – he doesn't mind anyway. He barely ever drinks tea, but now he feels it might be comforting.
While Harvey is in the kitchen, Donna tries to steady her breath and calm her racing mind. Her headache is pulsing behind her eyes and she is starting to feel a little dizzy again, but she won't say that out loud. She is the one who messed up, so now she feels like she owes Harvey. And that means she'll have this conversation, no matter how horrible she feels.
"Here you go," Harvey softly says, putting the mug down on the table next to the couch. When he looks at Donna, he just catches her rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand, before quickly pulling her arm back. "Is your head still bothering you?" He asks her, sinking down on the couch. She avoids his gaze – and his question, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Donna?" He gently presses. She squeezes her eyes shut, but her wobbling chin gives her emotions away. "Hey," he softly says, shifting closer and resting a hand on her leg, "we don't have to do this right now." He assures her.
"We do," Donna protests, opening her eyes and meeting Harvey's, "if you want to, we do." He voice cracks, and she looks away again, "I already messed up too much," she adds, her voice smaller than Harvey ever heard. He blows out a long breath, unsure of how to respond. He softly squeezes her leg, "this conversation won't walk away," he carefully tells her, "it doesn't have to be right this second. It's Friday, we have the whole weekend ahead of us." He looks at her, her pale face and red eyes. She still doesn't seem convinced, so he squeezes her leg again, "a few more hours don't matter in the grand scheme of forever," he tries to assure her, but instead the tears that were filling her eyes start running down her face.
Donna inhales shakily, trying to keep herself from dissolving into sobs. She can sense Harvey's unease, so she scrambles for an explanation, "I'm sorry," she squeaks, "I just… I-I-I…" She takes a deep breath, "I'm so scared I ruined us." She admits then. Immediately, Harvey moves even closer, "you haven't," he tells her, his voice certain, "yes, you definitely messed up. And-and I don't get it. I'm hurt. And angry. But…" He shrugs, "I love you, Donna… And we need to talk about this. It's going to take time for me to get past this. But you haven't ruined us."
At Harvey's words, relief washes over Donna. She knows they are still a long way from okay, but at least now she knows there is a way to okay. Her shoulders sag and her head drops. She feels Harvey rubbing her thigh, "let's get you to bed," he murmurs. She is suddenly so tired. Too tired to respond. Too tired to get up. But he takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom. He closes the curtains while she automatically changes into her pajamas. And then he gets under the covers with her. He holds her close and runs his fingers through her hair as she drifts off to sleep.
So, they're not there yet, but at least they're not fighting any more :) And I promise, in the next chapter they'll talk and Donna will (finally) tell him the whole story.
Also, I miiiiiiiiiiiight write a little Christmas oneshot, kind of feeling it. But not entirely sure of what I want to write yet, so if anyone has something they want to read just let me know!