Warnings: Contains mentions of violence.

...

Several whiskeys in, and the sting of an empty apartment is still like a vice clamping Harvey's chest. He arrived home to find Donna missing. No note, but her things were gone, leading him to suspect she went willingly. In his gut, he knew something wasn't right when he left her this afternoon, but the unexpected betrayal of her absence blindsided him. He's pissed, angry at her for running. But the resentment he feels towards her falls flat in the face of the worry suffocating him. Fearing for her safety, he had no choice but to phone Cahill and bring the SEC prosecutor into the loop. Unfortunately, there's nothing either of them can do until the morning.

He's on the verge of giving up his futile wait—hoping she'll come to her senses—when a knock cuts softly through the silence. His heart skips, wishful thinking and hesitation colliding as he stands on wobbly legs and moves to the door.

The drinks are obviously catching up to him, because he's not just unsteady, he's worried he's hallucinating when Donna's fiery red hair floods his vision. However, he quickly deems she's real and is forced to swallow his cynicism. At least a part of it. Her bag is noticeably absent, uneasiness making his voice hoarse as he grips the door frame. "I didn't think you were coming back."

His bluntness chips at her inner turmoil, and Donna nervously averts her gaze, questioning whether she should have. "I didn't, either," she chokes. For the second time in as many hours, she's doubting her ability to make rational decisions. Confronting Michel had been a reckless and stupid mistake. The moment she laid eyes on his furious temper, she realized trapping herself back in their relationship was just as much a risk to her life as testifying would be. Her ribs are still burning from the wrath of his outburst, but she can't bring herself to apologize to Harvey. Michel let her go with a warning—that if she turns over the evidence she has, their deal still stands. But she doesn't care about the threat. Finding out Michel knew nothing about Harvey was worth the confrontation. So, for that reason alone, she isn't sorry.

Hearing Donna validate the fear she didn't intend on coming back creates a bitter taste in his mouth. Leaving him to wonder if she was okay, with no consideration for his feelings, drives another stab of hurt through his chest. But her intentions aside, she's standing in front of him now. He just hopes she has a damn good reason for putting him through hell. "So… Why are you here?"

He scowls, and she can smell the whiskey on his breath, accepting his emotions are close to the surface. She doesn't blame him for being mad, but unlike when she confronted Michel, she isn't afraid of Harvey's anger, and she hides a wince as she shrugs her shoulders. "Cable was out at my place."

His expression remains bleak, and she regrets attempting to joke. There's nothing funny about the situation. When she turns herself in to the FBI tomorrow, she may never see him again. She might not even make it through the witness protection program. But, while she was laying at home in her bed, unable to sleep, the hollowness gnawing at her insides wasn't from expired food and wilting plants. She missed Harvey, wondered if he was aching with the same emptiness, and she couldn't bear the thought that if he was, she caused his suffering.

No matter the consequences, her regret won't subside until she's completely honest, and she breathes in as deeply as she can, starting with the rawest truth. "I missed you."

The answer catches him off guard, his heart welcoming the confession while his mind tries to fight, falling in hard and fast, but his walls weaken regardless. "I'm not your keeper, Donna. But a note, something, would have been nice. Do you have any idea how worried…."

He trails off, blaming alcohol for the loose rant.

After spending the past few hours going crazy with worry, he's not about to turn her away, and his frustration relents. "Come inside."

She hesitantly nods, and he ushers her in, closing the door behind her.

From the threshold, he failed to notice anything physically wrong. But as she steps into the light, he sees her palm briefly settle against her ribs. The injury hasn't bothered her in days, and he gently cups her elbow, his concern fuelled by information he doesn't have like where she was today. "You're hurt."

She glosses over the worry in eyes. If she allows herself to get swept up in them, she'll drown. All she can do is be honest, and she uses a bold statement to distract him. "I'm the reason Michel's back."

The tactic works.

He drops her arm, his gaze narrowing with confusion, and her heart beats faster. Afraid she'll crumble, she relies on small increments of the truth to keep herself talking. "There are lawyers drawing up contracts to appoint Michel as the CEO of my father's company. The handover wasn't supposed to be announced for weeks, but Vasquez moved up the timeline. He's trying to make me look culpable, so I won't use the evidence I have."

Harvey frowns, failing to understand while she's just telling him this now. Both he and Jessica were abundantly clear about leaving no stone unturned. At the very least, Donna should have mentioned the plan when he informed her about Michel. "Why in God's name would you keep that from me, Donna?" He flings his arm, causing her to shrink back, and the panicked reaction turns his insides cold. "Please tell me you didn't go see Michel."

"You don't know him like I do, Harvey." Even if visiting Michel was a mistake, the encounter opened her eyes to the person she was before the whole mess started—the person Harvey sees when he looks at her. "I was scared. I thought convincing him I had no intention of going to the police was safer than trusting the FBI. But I'm willing to take that risk now. I want to testify. That's why I came back."

The fear she's openly wearing is the reason he connected with her the night he found her, and he swallows his questions, her trembling shoulders enough to convince him that her poor judgment resulted from panic. He's witnessed people with less harrowing circumstances buckle under the pressure of facing a trial, and his own guilt looms as he steps forward. If he'd trusted his gut and stayed with her, not just dropped the news and left, maybe she would have opened up. But he's sure of one thing—the injury she's nursing is new. "What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter." She pushes his errant hand away, because if she accepts his comfort, she's likely to buckle. As much as she wants to fall into his arms, she came here to tell everything, and the last confession rides on her lips. "You need to know—"

"Stop," he cuts her off, fixating on the color bleeding from her cheeks. He can accept she's wary about being touched, and he hovers at a safe distance, angry at anyone who would dare make her feel threatened. But her explanations can wait. She needs to take a moment. And while he's reluctant to beg, if he's learned anything from their past arguments, it's that being soft yields the best results when it comes to swaying her stubbornness. "Sit down, please."

She screws her eyes shut—dizzy and exhausted as his plea washes over her. She shouldn't give in but convinces herself that if she follows his outstretched hand, he'll be more inclined to listen.

He trails behind her, and when she sits, he tentatively perches beside her. She looks uncomfortable, her tightly pinched features drawing him slightly closer. Relieved when she doesn't flinch at their proximity, he drops his tone to a whisper, asking her for permission to help. "Let me see."

She breathes out slowly, with a reluctant nod that turns out to be a mistake. Because as she rolls up her shirt, the careful glide of his palm over her skin makes her momentarily forget the words he forced her to swallow. The gentle touch is welcoming, soothing, even when he lightly pushes down.

He glances up, relieved to find her expression with the same mild discomfort, suggesting her injuries aren't as bad as before. And while he hates they're here again, that someone hurt her and he was powerless to stop it, his focus isn't on his anger, but rather making sure she knows—without a shadow of any doubt—that his interest in her no longer has anything to do with the case. "When I didn't know where you were tonight… You scared me."

She reaches for his hand, but instead of finding the strength to push it away, she clings to it, trapped in place by his locked gaze.

"You can come to me about anything, Donna. Tell me you believe that."

Her lips tremble as his eyes search hers for the honest truth. The irony is that she does believe him. That's why she showed up at his doorstep, prepared to face his judgment. Only now she's wedged between his hope and her guilt. She can see how much running off hurt him—that he was genuinely afraid—and she can't bring herself to crush the faith he's leaning on. "I believe you."

Relief is visible in his features, his small smile springing tears that cloud her vision. But before she can sweep them away or turn down his compassion, he lets go of her hand, sliding his arm around her body, and she crumples into the hug.

He tries to be careful, but she nestles deeper, and he instinctively tightens his hold. Forgiveness isn't something he parts with easily, but the hours he spent not knowing where she was, is what his life would look like if something worse had happened to her. He won't stand for that. Even if they're forced apart in the short-term to keep her safe, he'll find a way to be there and support her. They're in this together now, and he presses her shoulders back, finding her gaze again. "I won't let anything happen to you, Donna."

"I know." She feels safe and empowered by his promise, her resolve muddling with her emotions. "Everything is just... complicated."

He smiles at her hesitation. Everyone warned him not to trust his instincts—that he was heading for trouble. But against all odds, Donna came back to him, and as far as he's concerned, that means betting on her was worth the risk. "You've been a complication since we met. Have I complained?"

He reaches out to brush the moisture from cheeks, his smirk drawing out a hitched chuckle as his thumb slips below her ear. Keeping silent will only make tomorrow harder, but she selfishly ignores the protest ringing in her mind, dancing her lips closer to his mouth. His breath is warm as it tickles her skin, and she realizes he's waiting for her to make the first move this time. And the truth she's able to part with is that she's falling in love with him and doesn't know how to stop.

Accepting her fate, she kisses him gently, then more forcefully, her body aching for his touch.

He pulls her closer, but as she adjusts in his lap, he swallows a startled whimper—reminding him that while she might be willing, she needs to heal. He breaks the kiss, her reluctant moan answering his desire. With the uncertainty of a looming trial, it feels like they don't have enough time, but they do. He isn't going anywhere, and he palms her spine, sliding his other hand through her hair. "Trust me?"

He winks mischievously, and even though she shouldn't let herself dive any deeper into the unknown, she smiles and nods. He responds, delicately sweeping her up from the couch, and she relaxes her hands around his neck as he moves toward his bedroom. "I thought you said you weren't Superman."

He chuckles, barely registering the slight twinge in his shoulder. "I wasn't going to blow my cover on the first day."

His smug grin deflates her guilt, a small part of her daring to hope that spending the night together, even if only platonically, will send tomorrow's tide in a different direction. Because she doesn't want to give up on them. She isn't sure she can. And when he lowers her onto his mattress, assuring her with a chaste kiss that he'll be back, her cheeks warm as she watches him leave to get changed.

Unclasping her bra, she tucks it under a pillow, making herself comfortable in his large bed. Earlier tonight, laying on her own, the expanse had felt endless. But as soon as Harvey slips in behind her, tucking her into his arms, all she feels is content, the gentle brush of his fingers as intimate as the unspoken promise of things to come—whether they will or not.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. But even though she's just as exhausted, she doesn't sleep, instead choosing to appreciate every moment with Harvey until it becomes light outside and she can't resist the thrall of rest any longer.

...

The next morning, Harvey stands at the breakfast bar, fully clothed and clenching his fist around the pen he used to scribble down the number Donna has to call. He contacted Cahill to alert the prosecutor that Donna showed up last night, never at all expecting he would be blindsided by the man before his first cup of coffee. But shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice-like numbness spreading through his veins.

Donna lied to him.

Not a tiny white lie or something seemingly inconsequential, like Michel angling to take over her father's company. Her bold deception about who she really is leaves him feeling repulsed, and he tosses down the pen, his arms shaking as he leans against the counter.

She had to know he would find out. A trial of any sort would reveal the true nature of her relationship with Michel, and he feels like a fool for believing she ran to the man out of fear.

A shuffle behind him alerts his body to her presence, and he throws a cold, hard look over his shoulder. "You're awake. Good."

She immediately stiffens, her lungs constricting at his impenetrable stare. She's seen him angry before, but never with such venom directed at her, and she doesn't bother denying the silent accusation behind his narrow gaze. "How did you find out?"

He scoffs bitterly, any chance Cahill was wrong vanishing at her indirect confession. "That you're engaged to Michel Vasquez?" he spits horsey. "The prosecutor for the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission was kind enough to inform me."

She flinches at his bitter sarcasm, her hope that their night together would temper his anger vaporizing as she avoids his gaze. But she doesn't blame his hostile reaction. If she had her time over again, she would have been honest with him from the start—ending their agreement— even if that meant giving Vasquez what he wanted. She's never felt as ashamed as she does now, and she has no excuse, or at least not one Harvey's likely to believe. The only thing she can justify is that she tried to right her wrongs, though she selfishly fell short. "I was going to tell you last night—"

"That's funny, Donna—" he cuts her off, turning around "—because when you said Michel had his sights on your father's business, I don't remember you mentioning he's your soon to be goddamn husband."

His facade slips, his emotions boiling to the surface, and he tears his gaze away from her. It's not like she didn't have ample opportunities to tell him she's romantically linked to Michel Vasquez. All their late-night conversations. When he opened up to her about his mother, he thought they were creating trust. But the entire time he was bearing his past, she was hiding the fact that her present consisted of sleeping with another man. "Is that why you ran to him? To set a fucking date for the wedding?"

Her feet recoil, backing and away from his anger. He would never lay a physical hand on her, but degrading her character by accusing her of cheating, when he knows she wants out of the situation, is unnecessarily cruel. "Everything I told you was the truth."

"Everything?" he barks, challenging her.

She takes a deep breath. Although she was honest, she kept the fact she was trying to protect him veiled. "If he found me here, he would have made your involvement personal. I wasn't going to risk you getting hurt."

He flinches, assuming she means her fiancé is the jealous type. The association makes him feel nauseous, even though he's capable of believing she was worried about his safety. Her actions so far have shown she puts other people first, which is a heavy contender against his resentment. And what really happened when she went to see Michel plays on his mind. Last night, she refused to answer him, but her bruises aren't consensual, and a knot forms in his throat.

"Did he—"

He swallows thickly, the rest of the question sinking to the pit of his stomach. He isn't sure he can handle hearing she was forced in any way, and relief crashes through him when she shakes her head. But her scarlet cheeks quickly steal his reprieve. She was having sex with Michel—willingly—at some point, and he isn't sure how to respond. Whether he actually wants to know if the relationship was real or just a fabrication.

"It was never serious." Sensing his hesitation, she tries to explain. "He only proposed to make it seem more credible that I would make him CEO. Even before he went to Venezuela, I hadn't been in contact with him for weeks."

Harvey sinks back against the counter, but the shift doesn't relax his anger. She manipulated a man to her own gain, and even though he might have been able to understand and forgive her reasons, he can't move past the fact she lied to him about it. He thought he knew who she was—someone he was falling… Someone he cared about. But the person standing in front of him is more of a stranger now than the night they met. And just looking at her drives home how stupid he was believing he could have a future with someone he barely knows. "The prosecutor for the SEC is expecting your call," he replies gruffly, not interested in hearing any more.

Patting down his pocket, he makes sure he has his wallet and keys, and he doesn't look back as he strides to the door, slamming it closed behind him.

…

The storm cloud that's been raging over Harvey's head all morning finally erupts as he jams down the phone's receiver, and Mike winces, feeling a wave of sympathy for whoever just copped the lashing Harvey dealt out. He's about to turn away and retreat, not wanting to suffer the same punishment, when Harvey snaps at him.

"What is it?"

Mike takes a deep breath. After two years working for Harvey, he knows better than to antagonize the man's mood, but he's seen a change in the man since Donna entered his life. Harvey's been far less rash, even happy, but ever since his boss confided in him that Donna's case is now under federal jurisdiction, he's been slowly unraveling. Suspecting he's probably going to be fired either way, something that happens on average three times a week anyway, he uses the brief in his hand as an excuse to open the lines of communication. "Tantanbury signed." He steps into Harvey's office, and waves the file, placing it down on the desk.

"Great."

Harvey doesn't look up, and Mike sighs, building up his courage as he sinks into the chair opposite his boss. "How's Donna?" The man's scowl deepens, and Mike figures he can cross Harvey being worried about her testimony off his list.

The expression he's facing is one of anger, not concern, and he tries to weed out which other emotions Harvey is sheltering him from. "Did Cahill figure out why Vasquez' brother flew in?"

Harvey stiffens. His immediate instinct is to tell Mike to mind his own goddamn business. But the kid's going to find out what happened eventually, and he decides it's better to rip the bandaid off and get it over with. "He was looking for his fiancé," he scoffs bitterly. "Who, as it turns out, is staying with me."

Mike's jaw goes slack. "Donna's engaged?" Harvey's glare confirms the statement is true, but he quickly sees through the veil of Harvey's anger. He's reacting out of hurt, and Mike's first instinct is to show unwavering loyalty, but his gut feeling sits differently. "So, she's in a relationship, then?" He asks for clarity, because when it comes to infidelity, Harvey isn't always objective, and he suspects there's more to the story.

The way the question is phrased stirs Harvey's annoyance. Technically, Donna is in a relationship. But if he believes her version of events, he wouldn't exactly call her deception cheating. "It's complicated." He catches Mike's faint smirk, the reaction riling him up further. Just because the engagement is for show, it doesn't mean she's innocent. "Donna slept her way into stealing the evidence from Vasquez, and she lied to me about it. But if you want to throw her a goddamn parade, go right ahead."

The amusement falls from Mike's face as he shifts awkwardly. All he knows about Donna is what he's heard from Rachel and Harvey, and he's not condoning what she did or the fact she lied, but he remembers being told about her father's accident. Having lost both his parents unexpectedly, he can empathize with having a normal life one minute, then being thrown into chaos the next. "I'm not defending her. But Vasquez went after her family, Harvey."

"I don't care why she did it, Mike," he snaps. He's not in the habit of judging people for making poor decisions. The reason he gets paid is because people do make shitty choices. But what he can't justify is how she sat beside him every night and never said a damn word. "She should have told me."

It hits Mike that infidelity isn't the crux of the problem. Harvey holds loyalty in high regard above anything else, and his clients respect that. But from everything he's seen, Mike knows Donna isn't just a client. "If she had told you she was engaged, would you still have taken the case?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Harvey takes immediate offense to the insinuation he only helped Donna because he thought he might get laid. He was trying to propel his career, not get in her goddamn pants, and he lashes out at Mike. "It wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference, you know that."

"I know you believed that back then." Mike challenges him, but trying to make Harvey realize the truth is like leading a horse to water, and the animal stubbornly refusing to drink. Fortunately, the fact Harvey hasn't already kicked him out means there's at least some part of his subconscious willing to listen. "You have feelings for her, Harvey. And before you tell me I'm wrong, think about it. There are eight million people in this city you wouldn't lift a finger for, but from the moment you met, you saw something different in Donna. And I don't think you're angry with her. I think you're mad because you want to forgive her. You just don't know how."

The comment infuriates Harvey, the irony being that Donna said something similar when they spoke about his mother. But even if he could concede that the kid is right, he won't. Instead, he swivels awkwardly in his chair, refusing to validate any part of the accusation as true, because there's no halfway. By now, Donna should have met with Cahill, and if he faces the fact she's probably already gone, his worry will manifest as guilt, and that's all caring is—a weakness.

Determined not to budge, he pushes the thought away, swearing when the universe seemingly mocks him—Cahill's name lighting up the display on his phone. "For fuck's sake." He growls under his breath, swiping the device off the table and answering the call. "What?... How the hell should I know?... No, she isn't. You're right, so do your goddamn job!"

Mike jumps, surprised the phone doesn't shatter when it hits the glass surface. He's almost scared to ask, but he does, fearful of the damage Harvey will do to the other objects within reach. "What happened?"

Harvey palms the edge of the desk, taking a moment to compose his anger—the guilt he was so afraid of seeping in regardless of his armor. "Donna didn't show up to give her statement."

"What are you going to do?" Mike asks, expecting he'll need to cover Harvey's afternoon, and he's confused when the man sternly shakes his head.

"Nothing." He's not going off on some wild goose chase. For all he knows, Donna could have changed her mind again, gone back to Michel—hell, she could be half-way across the country by now. And he ignores Mike's audible sigh. "Don't you have work to do?"

Mike gives up, lifting himself from the chair. He can't force Harvey to accept his feelings. He just hopes if the man finally does, it won't be too late.

The door to his office closes, and Harvey scrubs his face, warring with his inner turmoil. Last night, Donna was adamant she was going to testify, and if she went back on her word because he effectively withdrew his support, that's not his problem, it's Cahills. But she wasn't lying about being afraid, and she has every reason to be. Both of the Vasquez brothers are dangerous, and even though she isn't his client or his responsibility any more, he can't shut out the persistent gnawing that she's in trouble. He doesn't want to care, but he does. And bailing on her when he made a promise to keep her safe is an asshole move, even if she did lie.

Ready to act on a decision, he tucks his phone into his pocket, but the crackle of his intercom keeps him seated.

"I have a call on line one, Mr. Specter. They won't give me a name, but the caller insists it's urgent."

The timing is too serendipitous to be a coincidence, and he nods through the glass. "Put it through." The light on the console blinks, and he quickly picks up the receiver. "Donna—"

"261 11th Ave. Thirty minutes. Come alone."

The voice is male, deep and detached, but before he can ask any questions, the line cuts, and his heart pounds with brutal dread. Donna wouldn't set him up. If he's wrong about that, then he deserves to be made a fool of. But he is being led into a trap, and he can safely assume Donna is the bait. Slammed by the fact Mike is right, he doesn't question his options. Knowing there'll be consequences if he doesn't act, deflates his anger and his ego. Donna means something to him. And maybe he hasn't figured out how to forgive her yet, but he'll never forgive himself if something happens to her.

…

AN: Not sure if I'm team Donna or team Harvey in this chapter. Did he overreact? Should he forgive her? Will he get the chance? Thank you to everyone reading and leaving reviews! And to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for being an amazing beta!