While Donna falls asleep almost immediately, Harvey's mind won't shut off. The small lamp on their bedside table is still on, and now he won't reach for it, to scared to wake her with his movement. The soft light enables him to see her, and he gladly uses that opportunity. It has only been a few days, but they have been through hell. She has been through hell. He noticed it took her some time to find a comfortable position, and he can only imagine how hard that was with her bruised body. She seems peaceful now, curled into him, but the look in her eyes – the hurt and fear and emptiness – is still clear in his head and he knows she has a long way to go. But for now, he is just relieved she was able to fall asleep so quickly. He nuzzles his face into her hair, and then closes his own eyes too.
Hours later, Harvey jolts awake. For a moment he is disoriented, but then he notices Donna sitting straight up, gasping for air. He puts his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch and pull away. "Hey," he soothes, sitting up as well, "it's okay, it's just me…" She turns her head, and he finds her hazel eyes dark with fear. She looks him up and down a few times, and he stays silent and motionless, careful not to scare her any more. Her chest heaves with rapid, strained breath, until she seems to realize that she's safe and she lets out one long sigh before closing her eyes for a moment.
Donna reaches for Harvey, her hand trembling as it wraps around his. She squeezes tight, reassuring herself that she is here, with him, and that she is safe. He gently squeezes back and then moves closer to her. Very slowly and carefully, but she tugs at his hand and then his arms quickly wrap around her and he holds her close. She clings to him, feeling like she is about to burst, but unable to articulate her emotions or even cry.
After a long time, Donna feels Harvey's breathing grow slower and deeper. She, however, is not close to sleep at all. She collapsed from pure exhaustion when they first went to bed, but now her head keeps spinning. Fragments of memories fly by, and every time she blocks one out, another one appears. She tries to focus on her breathing but she is barely able to. Vaguely, she is aware of Harvey beside her, and the Donna corner of her mind noticed his worry and the way he tried to stay awake until she drifted off. She would have like him to stay awake, but, in that same empathic corner, she realizes that he has also had a few hellish days, and he needs the rest.
Donna's head keeps going round and round. Even when she tries to focus on her breathing. Even when she tries to ground herself by resting her hand on Harvey's chest. Even when she listens to his calm breathing. Even when she feels his chest rise and fall. She can't sleep and she is spinning out of control and terrified, even though she is also so, so, so tired. But somehow she doesn't want to wake Harvey. Because she doesn't want to bother him. And a teeny tiny voice deep in her head tells her he would want her to wake him, but everything else inside her stops her.
Around six in the morning, Harvey rolls over in bed. He opens his eyes a crack, just enough to see the soft light of dawn, before closing them again. He reaches for Donna's warm body, but can't feel her. He reaches again, eyes still closed, blindly fumbling around. But she is not next to him. For a second, his sleepy brain wonders where she is, then the past few days rush back to him and he shoots up, eyes wide open. He has thrown the blankets back and flung his legs over the edge of the bed when he sees her. Standing in front of the large windows, the curtains pulled to the side just a crack.
"Hey," Harvey's voice distracts Donna from the never-ending stream of thoughts inside her head. He comes up behind her and lets his hands run over her arms, careful to avoid the large bruise over her right shoulder. She leans back against his chest, "sorry," she tells him, "I didn't mean to wake you..." She closes the curtain again, instantly reducing the room to dark shadows that make her tense and nervous. That was originally the reason she had gotten out of bed. She hadn't slept in hours, not since she woke from that nightmare, but it was the dark that was making her restless and honestly also a little – or maybe even more than that – afraid.
"It's okay," Harvey notices Donna tense under his hands, and reaches past her to open the curtain again. She breathes out a long sigh, keeping her eyes on the city that's slowly coming to life. They stand in silence for a while. Not uncomfortable exactly, but with a lot of tension and unspoken words surrounding them. "Talk to me," Harvey eventually whispers. Not pleading exactly, but very close.
Donna hesitates. She feels safe with Harvey. Safe knowing he is with her. And even safer with his hands slowly running up and down her arms, her back against his chest. But the fear from the past few days still runs through her blood. And she doesn't want to talk about it. She wants to push it all away and forget about it as soon as possible. Even though she knows that she should talk about it and work through it. She can't even bear thinking about facing it. But Harvey deserves something.
"You saw most of it," Donna squeaks, "the threats and..." She trails off. Harvey softly squeezes her arms. She doesn't have to say it. She's right, he saw it. He presses a soft kiss into her hair and stays quiet. "He took me... Here. In the kitchen. Drugged me... A needle, with some substance." Subconsciously, her hand travels to her neck, where Harvey now sees a tiny mark he hadn't noticed before. Donna takes a shaky breath. "I woke up in that basement," she mutters, now starting to tremble as images flood her brain, "they kept me drugged most of the time. Until they-they... Needed me."
Harvey lets his hands slide down and around Donna's waist, pulling her tighter into him; letting her know that he is with her. That she is safe now. And a million more things that he can't really express in words. He looks out of the window, the bright, rising sun in sharp contrast with the dark mood in their apartment. Donna yawns, and he refocuses his attention on her, "did you sleep? After that nightmare?" He asks her, concern in his voice.
"No," Donna softly admits, "I couldn't." Because every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that basement. And giving herself over to the sleep pulling at her would feel too much like having to sink into that drugged unconsciousness. But she can't say the words out loud. Doesn't know how to. So she leans her head back against Harvey's shoulder and lets herself be held by him and just hopes he understands – even a little. And he seems to, because he plants a kiss on her temple and doesn't ask any further questions, only stays with her in that moment of relative peace in the morning sun.
After waking up at six, the morning seems endless, but somehow the hours also slip by. Harvey and Donna stand in front of their bedroom window for a long time, just soaking in the waking city and being able to hold each other close. They stay like that until Harvey's stomach starts grumbling, and he slowly unwraps himself from Donna. He gently turns her around, "are you hungry?" He asks, even though he is pretty sure of the answers. She shakes her head, just as he expected. He takes her hand, careful not to hurt her bandaged wrist, "I'm going to make breakfast anyway, because you do need to eat something." She barely reacts to that, letting him lead her to the kitchen.
Just for Harveys sake, Donna manages to swallow a few bites of toast and half a banana. After that, even the thought of eating makes her nauseous. Strange, really, when she hasn't had anything to eat for days. The coffee, however, is not a problem. The warmth from the cup on her hands is soothing and the sweet note of vanilla comforts her. It's familiar and feels safe. It also clears her head a little, pushing aside some of the exhaustion that clouds everything.
Despite the coffee, Donna feels like she's moving through a hazy mist all morning. Harvey tentatively leads her to the couch, where she curls up in a corner while he turns on the tv. He zaps* through channels, settles on something he thinks she might like, but eventually changes it to the replay of a sports game when he realizes she isn't watching anyway. She has withdrawn into herself entirely, knees pulled into her chest and arms wrapped tight around her legs.
"Hey," it is around lunchtime when Harvey finally breaks the silence that still feels palpable, despite the sounds coming from the television. He wanted to give Donna time and space, but after hours he is just scared she is drifting further and further away. She looks at him, although there is a delay in her reaction. He takes her in, pale face and dark circles under her eyes. Maybe he should try to get her to eat something, but he thinks she might benefit more from getting some sleep. "Maybe you should go back to bed," he carefully suggests.
For a while, Harvey sits on the couch, until it gets too much. Until he feels like his emotions are swallowing him. Then he forces himself to eat some lunch and he takes a long shower, which relaxes him a little. He pokes his head into the bedroom, but it doesn't tell him much. Donna is lying with her back towards the door, so he can't make out whether or not she is asleep. He stands there for a while, leaning against the doorframe. But he doesn't go in, hoping she is asleep and not wanting to disturb her if she is. Eventually, he turns away, leaving her to rest.
It's only a little while later when Harvey hears soft footsteps behind him and Donna quietly makes her way back towards him. He has just ended a phone call with Rachel, to keep her updated and to ask her to get some groceries, considering they barely have any food at home. He looks at Donna, silently inviting her to talk. But she doesn't, she just curls into his side, carefully resting her head against his shoulder. Her hand comes up to his neck, gently running through the short hair at the base of his skull. "You showered," she murmurs, noticing the dampness under her fingers.
Harvey nods, turning his head to look at Donna. She looks just as tired and out of touch as before. She meets his eyes, but it's almost like she's not really there. She runs her hand through her own hair; greasy after not washing it for days. "Maybe I should take a shower too," she realizes. Harvey tilts his head a little, surprised but also glad for her sudden bit of initiative, "I think that's a good idea," he tells her, "if you feel like it." She nods, that faraway look still in her eyes. Without saying anything, she slowly gets up again, and she makes her way to the bathroom. Harvey stays in his place on the couch, listening to her moving around the bathroom and then the water starting to run.
With the tv turned back on, Harvey tries to relax for a little while. Maybe a shower will do Donna some good. He hopes it will, because she definitely needs it – and deserves it. She takes a long time, the water keeps running and running and running. At first he stays patient, but eventually he gets restless again. He knows she tends to take a long time, that she loves the warm water on her body, that it soothes her when she doesn't feel well. But after twenty minutes, he feels like it's taking too long, even for her standards.