Donna gives a forced smile at the front desk, before signing her name, etched in black ink below a slew of others that have come before her. A visitor's badge is handed over, and she's pointed towards the elevator.
She nods, swallowing the fear that she was somehow violating some shared promise she'd never actually made just stepping inside his building, let alone traveling up to his floor, her name scrawled in ink for anyone to see, the proof that she had been there.
With a deep sigh, she steps in with a several others, all wearing business attire, and she finds herself pulling her coat a little tighter around herself, hoping that no one notices that the snag in her sweater, or the dirt on her boots. Details that she'd never minded before, but seemed magnified in the presence of those with money. Like a beacon was shined on her to highlight everything she lacked.
It didn't help that Harvey had acted as if he didn't even know her the other day in front of her work. She'd been trying to focus on her final rehearsals before her opening night, but she couldn't help but fumble through her day, knowing that despite coming to see her nearly every single day for years, at the end of the day, she was just the woman that he pretended not to know when he was with anyone from his real life.
It beginning to become more and more clear to her that she was just an escape. She'd somehow created this little corner of the world where Harvey felt he could disrupt her life with all this hope that someday, maybe, they'd have something more, and then he got to slip back into the real world, where he was powerful, and rich, and important, and she dissipated into obscurity.
She was trying to make a name for herself, running herself ragged, rushing from her shifts standing on her feet all day, to rehearsals that lasted late into the night. By the time she got home, she practically collapsed into her bed, still dressed, too exhausted to even eat.
So when she'd gotten a call from Rachel, who she'd met in a yoga class a couple of months back, asking if she wanted to go for lunch, she'd jumped at the chance to actually take a breath and catch up with a new friend.
However, as soon as she'd realized that that would require her to venture to Harvey's place of work, the breath she'd released, became stuck in her chest, tightening until she felt she could barely make it out of the elevator into the halls that he walked every single day.
Rachel had just started working there a few months ago, and although she knew that Donna had an acquaintance that also worked there, she had no idea it was Harvey. And based on his earlier reaction, she knows she made the right choice in not telling anyone about…whatever it was they were.
Wandering the halls, glass offices and conference rooms, leaving little privacy, greet her as she makes her way through the maze. Not one person stopping her to ask if she needed help or even really noticing that she existed.
She shouldn't be surprised when fate seems to have her bypass Rachel's office, instead finding herself staring at the name of the man who refused to leave her dreams staring her in the face.
A wall of records sits on one side, and she smiles to herself, knowing full well that even with all those albums, he likely played his father's more often than anything else. She's tempted to go in, run her fingers over the spine of all the covers, cataloguing which ones she'd heard of, and which ones she knew he loved the most.
Looking back at the empty desk of Norma, she decides to just leave him a note. Walking back to Norma's area, she looks for a post-it and pen through the mess that didn't even pretend to be organized. There were papers strewn everywhere, her discarded lunch sitting in a corner. Seeing everything in such disarray, she laughs at how Harvey might have downplayed just how scattered she was.
Sitting in the chair, she swivels around, until she finds what she's looking for.
Looking up, she sees the man from outside the restaurant. His unruly hair more slicked back today, but he still has that smarmy grin on his face, this time aimed at a woman in a skirt, nothing but a file separating them, and the way she smiled back at him, Donna had no doubt what was going on between them.
Biting her lip, she averted her eyes, and picks up the pen.
"Well, if it isn't the waitress," she hears before she even knows someone is standing in front of her. She stills, dropping the pen on the post-it, hopefully covering up what she'd written.
"Excuse me?" She bites out, looking up to find that voice from before. The man who'd approached her with Harvey, staring icily into her eyes, and she tenses.
"So you do know Harvey," the man says it like it's not a question, there's no denying it now that she's sitting in front of his office.
"As much as I know any customer," she shrugs, refusing to let this man know anything more than he'd already been able to discern from her just being here.
"And yet, here you are," he cockily grins at her, his eyes gazing over her, and she straightens refusing to give into this creep. "I do hope you signed in downstairs," his brow raising along with his tone, and she narrows his eyes at him.
"Hardman," she hears, and doesn't know whether to be relieved or cringe at what she had been hoping to avoid.
"Harvey, I was just talking to your waitress here," Hardman sneers, and she can see Harvey's jaw clench, the last couple of days clearly having taken a toll on him, an uncharacteristic scruff outlining the frustration radiating through his jaw.
"She's here for an appointment," Harvey easily lies, and Donna stands, moving to stand behind him, closer to his office.
Hardman doesn't drop his sneer, instead it gets bigger, taking over his face.
"Is that what you're calling it these days?"
Harvey's hands clench into fists, and she wants to reach out, slip her hands between his, if only to stop him from doing something he might later regret. But Hardman turns at that last dig, and Harvey practically pushes her into his office.
"You know he's sleeping with that woman out there," Donna says, hoping to break the tension, and it works for half a second, Harvey peering out of the office to see who she's talking about.
"Monica?" He asks, and she shrugs, not sure of her name. But he seems to be filing away her observation for later, a curious look on his face, before he's focused back on her.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, stepping dangerously close to her, blocking her from view of anyone passing by.
She stares up at him, his brown eyes practically black with worry, not anger, as he traces over her, as if making sure that no harm had come to her in the brief instance she'd been left alone with that man.
"I.." she stumbles, unable to find her words. "I was meeting Rachel for lunch," she remembers, having completely forgotten what she was meant to be doing there. Shaking her head, she pulls the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.
"What did he say to you?" He asks, glancing around as if someone is listening in on them.
"Nothing he didn't say to you," she assures, swallowing back the implied insult at Hardman's tone at her job. Years of hearing that tone having scarred over the stab that attempted to land a hit.
"Donna," he utters, closing his eyes as her names passes his lips. "Just…stay away from him," he warns, but it's not a threat, more a plea to keep her as far away from a man she had no intention of ever running into again.
She wants to reach out, soothe what plagues him from his brow, run her fingers over the unfamiliar stubble, but resists, the glass walls threatening to expose more than just an innocent touch, but that of a want that has been building in her for so long she's not sure it would ever go away.
"Okay," she whispers, breaking his gaze, and stepping around him to leave and find Rachel.
Donna's humming a song she'd heard earlier that day, the rustling of the take out bag she'd gotten before she'd closed up at work, in her hands echoing in the elevator as she rides up to the fiftieth floor. It had only been two days since Harvey had walked her home, and they'd hovered on the precipice of everything, and instead had teetered right back into awkward. She hadn't seen him since then, deciding to do what she did best, retreat back into complacency, statically standing still as waves of regret washed over her.
The lights are dimmed as she steps off the elevator, most people having long since taken off, but she knows that Harvey will be working late. Because what he did best was avoid through work.
She smiles to herself when she sees him through his glass office. He only has one light on, but she can see his silhouette, one hand holding his head up, jacket having been discarded, sleeves rolled up on his forearms, and a glass of whisky grasped in his free hand. There's a soft floating of music in the air, and she instantly recognizes it as his father's. Tears prick her eyes, as the music carries over her, but she fights them back, not wanting to make tonight about that.
She knocks on the glass, Norma likely having been sent home hours ago, so she's free to just walk right in, but she warns him.
He slowly looks up from the file in front of him, and she holds up the bag of food.
"I brought you dinner," she chimes, walking into his office over to the couch in front of his records.
Plopping down, she doesn't wait for him to get up, kicking off her shoes, and tucking her feet underneath her.
She cocks her head at him, wondering why he was still sitting in his chair, and he grins back at her, pushing his chair back and making his way over to her.
"Drink?" He asks, and she nods, words getting stuck in her throat the closer her gets to her. He pours her a glass, and their fingers touch as he hands it over, and she almost drops the the liquid onto the floor. Biting her lip, she pulls the glass to her mouth, and take a generous sip, seeing his look of mirth on his face at her.
"Don't judge me," she teases, and he throws his hands up in surrender, signifying he would never. Taking the seat next to her, she doesn't realize how close he is, until his leg brushes against her as he reaches for the take out bag.
She swallows, the sting of the whisky burning down the nerves that linger, and a fuzzy feeling that settles in her stomach.
"How hungry did you think I was?" He laughs, taking several containers full of fried rice, curry, and Pad Thai out of the bag.
She shrugs, not really hearing what he's saying, too busy focusing on the point at which his leg is touching her's, pulsing like a wound with its own heartbeat. Her grip on her drink becoming tighter, and she closes her eyes.
"What?" She utters, opening her eyes to find him staring at her, a stupid grin on his face, but she can't tell you one thing he's said.
"Nothing," he claims, what he'd said lost to her reverie, and he settles back on the couch, losing contact with her, and she practically lets out a sigh of relief.
"Tough day?" She asks, seeing the stress of the day in the wrinkles of his shirt, the clench of his jaw, and the music playing, an attempt to quiet his mind.
"You could say that," he mutters, and she leans back, mirroring his position.
She turns her head until she's facing his side, her curls hanging in her face, but she traces the line of Harvey's jaw with her eyes, the slightest hint of stubble peeking through at the end of the day, and she smiles.
He turns towards her, not but an inch between them, and he smiles, as if breathing her in, before reaching out his hand, hovering only for a second in trepidation, before pushing the curls back, unsure whose view he was clearing, her's or his.
His hand doesn't leave, instead gliding its way across her cheekbone, a trail he'd once slowly memorized, mapped by the freckles guiding his way. Her eyes flutter closed and she finds herself leaning into his palm, her kisses from the sun dotting his heart line, until she feels him move closer, his lips barely brushing against her mouth.
"Donna," she hears, and her eyes shoot open, jumping back from Harvey.
She turns around to see the smirk of a man she thought she'd seen the last of.
"I see you still know Harvey, quite well it appears," Hardman wickedly points out.
Harvey is off the couch before she can even look at him, his hands clenched into fists.
"Get out," he sneers, all but pushing the man out of his office, Donna frozen in shock on the couch.
"I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon," He goads, before slithering out of the office, the grin never once knocked from his face.
The stress she'd seen earlier on Harvey's face suddenly making sense.
"So Hardman's back," she says, stating the obvious. Harvey's head dropping before turning towards her. She stands, making her way to him, this time not hesitating to take his hand, unclenching his fist, until her thumb is running over his knuckles, interlocking their fingers, as she draws circles over the veins in his hands, feeling him relax beneath her touch.
"Donna," he whispers, in the intimate way that only he can, the sound she'd been expecting just moments before, in an almost kiss that had felt more real than dreams she'd been forced to leave on the wayside.
"It's okay," she says, not letting his hand go, refusing to take two steps back from the one they'd stepped forward into that night. But with the arrival of trouble, she knows it's only a matter of time before the next tragedy catapults them back to the start again.
