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Riders on the Storm

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Harvey's fingers squeeze into a fist as he listens to the conversation seeping through the walls of Jim and Clara's kitchen, the sound mixing with pelting rain and gushes of wind rattling the windows.

Like all hell has broken loose.

After their impromptu wedding, Donna had insisted on telling her parents the news in person, and he hadn't had any objections. On the contrary. After all, despite their past, he and Jim were on good terms. And he'd always liked Clara Paulsen. Besides, he could understand his wife's desire; eager to visit Boston next and show Marcus how he'd found a lasting home for their grandmother's ring.

But their buoyant anticipation had lasted but a minute, because her mother had immediately figured out what was going on. And with rings on display for the world to see, the happy surprise had been ruined.

And things only escalated from there.

If he'd had the capacity to separate himself from the situation, he might have been able to appreciate the veiled fright driving his in-laws' behavior; fear of their daughter giving up everything she knows to move across the country. With him. Of all people.

Donna had already sacrificed so much for him in the past, and he was sure that history was still not forgotten. Or forgiven.

Apparently, her parents weren't so keen to have him as their son-in-law, after all.

And then Jim really let himself go, accusing Donna of robbing him of his only chance of ever walking his daughter down the aisle.

Harvey had been by her side when she'd apologized with an unsteady voice. He'd also tried to soothe her by gripping her hand; whispering to her it was okay her parents were upset. But she'd demanded he give them some space, and so he'd reluctantly retreated into the kitchen, knowing she didn't want him fighting her battles.

Unfortunately, being cast out has the added bonus of reminding him he was clearly not a part of this family to begin with.

His insides churn. Goddamn Jim Paulsen. He thought they'd made nice, but Jim is still the egocentric, self-serving bastard he's always been. How can any father not be overjoyed that his daughter got married? That she's happy? Sure, they hadn't planned on tying the knot. Not yet, anyway. But only because he hadn't had the chance to properly propose. If he had, perhaps, he would even have asked Jim for her hand. As a gesture. But instead, he'd let himself get swept up in the moment and he'd proposed without hesitation—something his own dad would have lauded him for.

Maybe it is his fault Donna is once again at odds with her father. Maybe the unbridled energy crackling down his spine isn't only anger and frustration. Perhaps there's some guilt in there as well. Essentially, he prevented Donna from having the wedding she always wanted. He put her on the spot. He even asked her multiple times—the idea so pressing, he couldn't imagine a life where they weren't married.

Considering all that, she might have seen it as an ultimatum. Now or never.

To date, they haven't discussed that moment at Louis' wedding. But that's because she had said 'yes'. And she's been happy. She really has, he reminds himself.

Suddenly, there's a tug on his arm and his name is called out and he's pulled towards the entryway.

"Let's go, Harvey. Bye, Mom," Donna snarls.

Harvey has trouble keeping up with his wife as she sprints out the front door and down the driveway, seemingly unfazed by the heavy droplets of water lashing their faces.

Before he has a chance to round the car and open the door for her, she's shut herself inside, leaving him standing out in the rain.

Her hasty exit and ghostly face have him rooted to the spot. Something's wrong.

He pauses before opening the driver side door, unsure of how to navigate the situation as water slowly starts to seep into his jacket. Then, through the almost invisible windshield, he sees her wiping her cheek, and his hand lingers on the handle. But before he pulls the lever, his feet take him back up to the house in long strides.

He rings the doorbell aggressively, and when Clara answers, he breezes past her, straight into the living room.

"How dare you?!"

He towers over Jim, who's slumped in his recliner.

"You have some nerve coming back in here," Jim sputters. He sits up, casually glancing at the pool of water silently forming on the carpet around Harvey's feet.

"I have got some nerve?" Harvey barks, pointing towards the front door. "I have a devastated wife in the car because you can't even put your own pride aside to be happy for your daughter."

"I never said I wasn't happy for—"

"You didn't say you were, either!"

"Harvey, this is between me and my daughter," Jim says, rising.

"The hell it is. You just can't stand the fact she married me."

"You and I certainly had our differences in the past, so yes, you wouldn't be at the top of my list, but that's not up to me," he replies, leisurely trying to leave the room.

Harvey blocks his exit, his hands balling into fists. Instinct has him wanting to go for the jugular, but he doesn't need Donna's psychic powers to imagine the ramifications of such an act, and so he keeps himself from physically assaulting his father-in-law. Instead, he inhales, counts to ten, and scrambles to find a path out of this godforsaken situation before he breaks something that can't be mended.

On some level, it cuts deeply to recognize Donna's parents don't deem him good enough when the fact remains, they barely know him. And he is goddamn worthy, because she chose him! But this is not about him. It's about Donna, and he wants to yell at the man for hurting her; for being a lousy father who doesn't deserve her love and devotion. And to think he actually started to respect the guy. But no more. He's done giving Jim Paulsen the benefit of the doubt. "You better apologize to her," he growls, "or I swear to God, I—"

"Harvey!"

Halting immediately at his wife's voice, Harvey drops his hands and peers over his shoulder to find Donna in the door opening, Clara by her side.

"Let's go," she demands.

He wants to protest; yell at Jim some more. But instead he hangs his head, shoots the man a look he is sure conveys his contempt, and stomps off without looking back.

When they get to the car, the downpour has morphed into a drizzle, but the temperature has dropped below zero. Or so it seems.

With a racing heart, Harvey slides behind the wheel, digging his nails into the leather as adrenaline rages through his tense body.

Goddamn Jim Paulsen.

He should have kept his mouth shut; should have let Donna handle the situation. But his instinct to protect her, above anything, had possessed him, and he'd charged inside, out for blood. But besides his ego feeling pretty good about his chivalrous act, the idea he made a mistake slowly begins to surface, and he glances over at his wife, her tear-stained face pale and contorted with fury. Worse yet, she doesn't acknowledge him, merely crosses her arms over her chest and stares out the passenger window.

The cold shoulder doesn't bode well, and even after all these years, he's ill-equipped to handle her silent treatment. So, he tries to bridge the divide, afraid his face-off with Jim is going on the ever-growing list of regrets.

"Donna…"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Harvey. Let's just go."

He sighs. "Okay," he says, heeding her unspoken demand, before turning the ignition.

Along with the engine, the radio comes to life, and a chatty news anchor breaks the terse silence with a positive weather report. And yet, inside the car, there's a heavy, gray cloud, bearing the threat of thunder.


The drive back to the hotel is cloaked in quiet, and when they step into their suite, Donna disappears into the bathroom.

He decides to give her the distance she clearly desires. But nothing has terrified him more than her needing space from him, and he lasts ten minutes before he loses his restraint and gently knocks on the door.

"Donna."

When there's no reply, he tries the handle and is surprised to find the door unlocked.

Being allowed in relieves some of the anxiety his insecurities had conjured. But when he advances further inside, the sight tears his heart in two. Donna is on the floor beside the tub, hugging her knees, eyes as red as her mane.

He wastes no time lowering to her level. "Hey."

His voice must have startled her because she lifts and slumps into his arms.

The grief unnerves him, but he pushes past his own apprehension and focuses on her distress instead. "I've got you," he mumbles into her hair, as her body rapidly rises and falls in his arms to the beat of her sobs. "I got you." This time, he hugs her as tightly as he can.

Suspended in infinity, he whispers, "I'm sorry."

She doesn't move, too many emotions tearing her into too many directions. Today, she realized just how much she loves her husband and how much she will miss her family. And her love for both has to co-exist if she ever wishes to be truly fulfilled.

"Don't make me choose between you," she mutters into the fabric of his shirt.

"I would never do that to you. You know that."

She nods, or so he assumes from the way her head moves, and all he can do is hope she's telling the truth.

An eternity passes.

"Why can't he be happy for me?" she murmurs.

"I don't know," he replies earnestly. "I really don't know."

Eventually her sobs turn into sniffles, but she clings to his chest, and he lets her decompress in his arms.

His mind is less inclined to relax, however, and churns with thoughts he'd rather shun. And he has to know if there's some validity to his own insecurities.

If she feels like she has to choose between her family or him, he's terrified that even after fifteen years, they may have rushed into things, and so he asks, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Marrying me?" He chokes on the words, and immediately Donna pushes off his chest to meet his gaze.

"No! I could never regret that," she says, measuring his expression.

His big eyes do nothing to relieve her rapid heartbeat, and she reaches for his hand, lifting then holding it against her chest.

His wedding ring gently rotates as she caresses the gold band with her thumb. "I love you, Harvey. And I'm glad we got married. I like being your wife."

She smiles, and for a fleeting second his heart flutters, but the sensation doesn't last long and returning the emotion proves impossible, so he focuses on where their hands meet instead.

"What is it?" she asks.

"I don't know. It just seems like you were better off without me, that's all."

"Harvey." When he finally meets her eyes, she continues. "You make me happy. Being with you is all I ever wanted."

"But is it worth it?"

"My dad can be stubborn sometimes, but we'll figure it out. He loves me."

Harvey snorts, wondering how anyone could interpret that man's behavior as love.

"Listen, I know you and my dad don't get along, but he's just scared."

"He's not wrong."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

He takes a moment, collecting the courage to say out loud what's been eating at him since this afternoon. "I took away your dream wedding by insisting we get married there and then."

Donna pauses, scanning his face. "Harvey. Where is this coming from?"

"We should have planned it. I should have given you time to plan for the wedding of your dreams."

She lifts her palm to caress his cheek, waiting for their eyes to meet. "Hey," she coaxes, a surge of warmth spreading through her when his sad eyes finally meet hers. "I said 'yes' because I wanted to marry you. You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do."

"But your dad should have walked you down the aisle. Your parents should have been there."

He swallows, and Donna's eyes well up. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"You tell him that next time you see him."

The statement reiterates that no matter what Jim Paulsen might prefer, they are a family and they will have to find a way to get along, because shutting the door on each other is an option no longer.

It's uncharted territory—the instinct to cut someone out far more appealing—but Donna's guided him through tougher storms, and with her as his compass, he's confident they'll live to see another rainbow.


A/N: I love me some angst and the more I thought about this scenario, the more it captured me. As always a big thank you to Cassie for reading this at least 4 times before I finally was done with it, and for Elle for being an extra pair of eyes I wouldn't want to miss. Love you girls. I hope you liked it. Please let me know your thoughts.