The Devil You Know
Category: AU/Drama/Angst
Summary: A night out celebrating Mike Ross' second year as an associate proves Harvey Specter does have a sentimental side. But when they stumble on a woman who is the victim of a mysterious assault, will Harvey finally see caring can be more than just a weakness? Or will his heart be betrayed by the beautiful and enigmatic redhead? Darvey AU.
Warnings: Mentions of violence, and subsequent injuries.
AN: This is something different I'm trying. It's an AU multi-chap where Donna and Harvey have never met (until now). If you're not into AUs, I'm throwing you a parachute backpack to jump out now :) It's set roughly around S2. And thank you to darvey_love and NAhavenbb who helped me build and develop this fic.
Chapter 1
...
It's after midnight, the streets of upper-end Manhattan largely expelled of people late on a Wednesday night.
Since Mike Ross is technically Harvey's 'date' for the evening, there's an unlikelihood of needing to stay poised to impress, and Harvey loosens the bowtie around his neck, freeing himself of the constraint. With summer blooming, he can feel the humid shift in the heavy air. Although, his body temperature jumping a notch could have something to do with the joint he just puffed, and the whiskey chaser he used to mask the taste of tobacco. He's never indulged Mike in a real night out before, but the reward was duly earned. After two years working as his associate, the kid deserved to reap the benefits of an evening in the company of NYC's most elite.
"We just smoked a spliff with MJ!" Mike is a bundle of energy, clapping his hands together as they stroll down the street. "That was awesome!" He raises his palms toward the sky, thanking the deities for his good fortune.
Harvey rolls his eyes at the enthusiastic display. "You know you're putting thirteen-year-old fangirls to shame, right? "
"We just got high with Michael freaking Jordan." A bounce inflates his step. "I am the Queen B, yo!" He whoops, grinning to himself when he sees Harvey smirk. As star-struck as he is, witnessing Harvey shed his stoic facade has been the highlight of the evening. His first few months at the firm, he thought his boss hated him. It took him weeks to realize that Harvey paying him any attention at all was actually a sign of respect. Now they're Starsky and Hutch, Butch and Sundance, Batman and Robin! And the night isn't over yet. "What's next, Baby? Underground poker with Al Pacino? Private jet to Vegas?"
"Jesus Christ." Harvey unbuttons his collar, trying to release more of the stuffy warm air. All he wants to do is go home and relax in his air-conditioned condo, so he throws the kid a bone. "A cab back to mine and we order in pizza."
"Wait, seriously?" Mike stops. An invitation back to Harvey's famed bachelor pad is like a ticket to the Taj Mahal, and his eyes light up. "You're not messing with me."
"Just don't make me regret it," Harvey calls over his shoulder, hiding his amusement as Mike scampers to catch up, swinging a low fist pump. Harvey shakes his head. When Mike started at the firm, he didn't want anything to do with some Harvard-brown-nosing-shit getting in the way of him winning cases. If it hadn't been for an elevator journey and a suitcase of weed spilling at his feet, he wouldn't have given the kid a second glance. The bumbling associate then wormed his way out of being fired on the spot by telling him not to go to trial, backing up the reason with evidence that everyone else had missed. When the elevator doors parted on the ground floor, he told Mike to flush the drugs and be in his office at 8am.
After a rocky start, and more than a few irritating mistakes, Harvey's actually grown fond of the kid's quirkiness. Though the sentiment is challenged when Mike suddenly reefs his arm, pulling him to a standstill. "What are you—"
"Shhhh…" Mike shushes him, his eyes darting around. "Did you hear that?"
"The sound of paranoia? No, I didn't," Harvey quips." They're not ambling through the goddamn Amazon. They're in the streets of Manhattan, and he flaps down the crinkle in his suit. "I can actually handle my weed."
He's about to step forward when an audible groan spills from a nearby alleyway. And damn Mike's inquisitive nature. The kid is moving before he can usher a warning, and he snaps his arm out, swearing Mike has more brains than sense as he hauls the associate back. They should call the police, not stick their noses where they don't belong. But Mike shoots him a pointed 'what if it was you' look, and he growls his frustration. "Stay here," he warns. His judgment might be slightly impaired, but he can still handle himself in a fight if there's trouble, and he clenches his fists, calling out into the tunnel of darkness. "Who's there?"
Several crates topple near a dumpster—probably a stray cat thrashing about. But before the reasonable logic drives him away, a distinctly feminine voice whimpers beneath the debris. He follows the noise, jolted by concern when he spots a woman struggling under the wooden planks. He instantly moves to help, lifting the boxes and kneeling down.
She scrambles back and he throws his palms up, raking his eyes over her bloodied face. "I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Harvey Specter. I'm a lawyer."
Her eyes dart frantically around, her vision swimming as she tries to focus. A lawyer. She's vaguely aware it's not the most trustworthy profession, but his blurry features aren't threatening. With a gasp, she curls her fingers, holding them against her racing chest. Her body is screaming in agony, but she's alive
Harvey searches over his shoulder for Mike. The kid's silhouette is illuminated under the streetlamp, and he calls out. "It's okay, Mike. The woman startles again, and he turns back to her. "Don't worry, he's my associate. We'll get you some help."
"No." She grimaces, folding her arm around her throbbing side. "I'm fine." The lie falls flat when she tries to move. Pain explodes in a burst of stars, and she cries out sharply—snapping her jaw shut. She can't afford to have anyone asking questions. Taking several breaths, she grits her teeth, then manages to roll up onto her knees. "Please... just go."
He stiffens, appalled when he realizes her injuries can't have been from a fall. From the way she's holding herself, he guesses she has at least one or two broken ribs, and fissures of anger start to tear open as he assesses the laceration on her forehead. She's likely concussed, and he ignores her plea to leave. "Can you tell me your name?" he asks, trying to coax her into trusting him.
She shakes her head, screwing her eyes shut.
She's stubborn, he'll give her that. Fortunately, he knows a thing or two about negotiating. "If you can't remember your own name, then I'm not going anywhere."
She groans a frustrated sigh. "Donna… Satisfied?"
"Not by a long shot." If she knew who he was, she'd know he doesn't give in that easily.
Her eyes flutter open, her teeth sinking into her cheek at his probing gaze.
Even if she could tell him what happened, she won't. He's putting his life in danger by refusing to leave, and his expression may hold concern, but his eyes are clouded with caution. She knows how to read people, and a man like Harvey Specter doesn't act out of compassion. Which is good. He should trust his instincts and steer clear of her problems.
Her lips quirk, the sad ghost of a smile filling him with a foreboding sense of warning. She's telling without words it's okay to leave, that he should, and the depth of understanding that passes between them catches him off guard.
Mike watches Harvey hesitate and fumbles to find the phone hidden within the lining of his jacket. He finds the pocket, his eyes still trained on Harvey, waiting to see if the man is going to do something. The woman may claim she doesn't need their help, but it's obvious she does, and when Harvey remains stationary, Mike takes action for him. "I'm calling an ambulance."
"No!" Donna snaps sharply, trying to pick herself up, but the jolt sends a wave of dizziness hurtling through her.
Harvey instantly reacts, catching her arm and wincing when her nails pinch in into his skin with a desperate plea.
"He'll kill me."
The fear in her eyes penetrates his chest with an unyielding grip. He has no reason to trust what she's saying is true. They could go to the police, get her protection, but the conviction in her sudden tears is so strong he barks at Mike. "Hang up the phone."
A 911 operator rings in Mike's ear, and he quickly covers the speaker with his hand. "Harvey—"
"Do it."
She relinquishes her visceral grip on his sleeve, relief ebbing through her choked gratitude. "Thank you."
He pushes her silent warning outside the reach of his worry. Maybe he shouldn't be involving himself, but Mike was right to do something. "Where can we take you? Where's safe?"
Her heart pummels the realization she has no money, no ID, and no friends she can reach out to.
He watches her pale skin turn almost translucent, and he's hit hard by her eyes reflecting the realization she has nowhere to go. He knows what that's like—to be without family or people to turn to. As it is, his trust is only placed in a seldom few, and he makes a bold and snap decision. "You can stay with me."
"No."
"What?
Both Donna and Mike answer at once, but he ignores their protests. "I have a guest room. You'll be safe there until morning."
She shakes her head. He doesn't understand—she isn't safe anywhere. "I can't."
Her flash of determination holds him captive, but her sheer will isn't going to change his mind. Leaving her hurt and alone isn't an option. She probably wouldn't even make it a few steps on her own, but if she wants to challenge him, he's prepared to let her try. "Here's the deal. You walk out of here right now… I'll pay for a hotel—you'll never see me again."
She sinks her eyes closed, building her strength. He's setting her up to fail, but she doesn't have a choice. He's right about the fact she can't stay where she is. Tugging her arm firmly under her ribcage, she bits her lip to distract from the pain, drawing blood as she hauls herself off the ground. The alleyway rolls in a vicious spin, and she clutches the dumpster, fighting a haze of black spots. Nausea swims in her stomach, but she wills herself to stagger forward.
She can't give up.
Can't —
Her knees buckle and Harvey swoops in to catch her, his hands tangling in the ruined silk dress as he gingerly lifts her into his arms. She mumbles something in her semi-conscious state—probably a protest. And he turns, meeting Mike's wide gaze.
"Please don't tell me you're serious?" he begs.
Harvey ignores the question, his muscles flexing from the added weight as he carries Donna toward the light.
Mike almost trips over his feet following him. "You can't take her home, Harvey. She needs a hospital."
Donna wrestles weakly at the suggestion, and he shoots Mike a glare. He's being impulsive, not negligent. He can think of at least two practitioners who owe him a favor, and he hushes Mike's concern. "I'll find her a doctor."
"This is insane." Mike flusters his hand. "We don't know what sort of trouble she's in."
"Even more reason to help." Harvey stops, sweating in the muggy heat as he pinpoints the nearest cab.
"Okay, what has gotten into you?!" Mike snaps. They did a little weed at the party, but not nearly enough to account for the way Harvey's behaving. His mentor doesn't lift a charitable finger for anyone, not even to do pro bono work. He has no idea why Harvey's going out of his way to help a complete stranger.
Harvey shifts the woman in his arms, her soft murmur making him more determined to get her some place safe. If he had an answer beyond that to give Mike, he would.
But he's the one who found Donna—she's his responsibility.
At least until morning.