Alright, let's discuss Harvey's outburst. The last thing I wanted was for people to think I support any sort of violence, especially domestic violence. I don't. That was not my intention. So if I hurt you or made you feel uneasy, I apologize. But I'm not changing my work. I knew it was a risky scene, that it would push people to the edge, but that is what writers want. That their work causes emotions. This is still just fiction.
Thank you for the criticism and all of the reviews. Positive or not, it's what gets me going. I am so incredibly grateful to all of you for the kudos and comments. You all rock.
I hope this makes it up.
Ride the tide
She sat staring into nothing, feeling only the warmth of the cup of tea in her hands, legs resting sideways on top of each other. The reddish marks around her glistening eyes were evidences of the night, along with the frail demeanor that made her look like a porcelain doll. She occasionally took a deep breath, looking at them as if she had something to say (maybe she just remembered to breathe), only to sigh and sip her drink, the taste of chamomile soothing her tongue as she fell back into silence.
Rachel sat on the other end of the couch, giving her some space. Mike took the floor, his back against the wall and his head resting on the tv rack, both refraining from saying anything but the necessary for her comfort. More tea? Are you hungry? Can we get you anything else?
It wasn't until hours later, sometime close to midnight, that her voice made both of them jolt upwards, like parents to a crying newborn in an inversion of roles neither saw coming. Rachel discreetly moved closer and Mike's eyes blinked several times as they focused on her, still half asleep.
"Vinny," she said without raising her look to the two people around her. "I couldn't think of his name."
Rachel and Mike looked at each other, their faces pure confusion.
"Who is Vinny, honey?" Rachel asked in a delicate but questioning tone, probably giving away how concerned she sounded. The younger lawyers had dozens of questions, they not only wanted but needed to know everything that happened, yet none of them dared to ask her. It was too soon. The pictures on the floor spoke for themselves, giving them a reason for Harvey's outburst. But they weren't enough to explain how they had gotten there in the first place.
"From Superior Glasses," she added, staring at the floor. "Leave a message. He'll be there at 6 am if you say I'm the one asking."
Rachel's heart sank and she tried to hide her frustration, understanding Donna was thinking of fixing the glass door. Pure efficiency was her comfort zone, the place in her mind where she lodged her thoughts to defend herself. It was typical, predictable.
"You don't have to think of that now, honey" she offered, a sympathetic look on her face.
Before she could say anything else, Donna cut her off.
"Because I should be thinking about my half naked pictures on the floor or a garbage can destroying my door? Or how my relationship is ruined before it even had a chance to begin or better," she added harshly, "how this entire goddamn city is going to find out about my past? Is that what I should be thinking about?"
It was enough to push Rachel back as she looked down and pressed her lips tightly together, leaning back on the cushion in a defensive move. It wasn't on purpose nor was it personal, she knew.
"I'll call them," Mike chimed in to ease the mood in the room, his male fix-it brain glad to have something to do. He took pride in being a sensitive guy, but even for someone like him, this situation couldn't be solved in a simple conversation. Rome wasn't built in a day is what they say, so a phone call to repair one part of the problem was something he was happy to make.
"Mike?" Donna called as he stood up. "The pictures. I don't want anyone to see them. Not yet, at least," she said as the images of the mess on the floor flooded her mind again.
"I have them," he said, "I picked them up after you walked to the elevator with Rachel."
She rehearsed a smile, glad for his insight.
Mike pat his pockets searching for his phone, but couldn't find it. He hadn't touched it in hours, making him think he had left it in the cab on the way to Donna's, but luckily remembering he had put it in his computer bag, together with the pictures. As he took it out, his screen showed 13 missed calls and several text messages, all from Harvey. He looked at Donna from the corner of his eyes, not wanting her to know.
"I, uh...I'm gonna step out in the hallway, make the call, get some air, I'll be back in a bit," he said, getting a nod from Rachel.
Mike didn't need to read all the text messages as he headed downstairs to know who he would see as he stepped out.
"Hey," he barely managed to sound casual as he saw a disheveled Harvey standing right outside.
"I knew you'd be here," Harvey muttered. The tie sat in his slack's right pocket and Mike noticed the missing button on his shirt, probably from how fast Harvey must have yanked it out. The collar was stretched out and he had certainly never seen the messy hair before.
"We didn't want to leave her alone," Mike explained. '"How long have you been here?" he asked, still clearing all the texts, unable to face him.
"I don't even know," Harvey shrugged.
"You look like shit, by the way," Mike added the insult, thinking he was even being too nice.
Harvey chuckled. "I feel like it, too."
They both stood in silence for what felt like several minutes. Harvey leaned against a pole, thinking about what to say next, how to even begin telling Mike what had happened, wondering if he should even try to apologize. Mike stared at his phone screen, googling Superior glasses, his thumb hovering over the number he had to dial, taking a lot longer than he should have. He knew Rachel would worry if he didn't come back soon.
"How is she?" it was the only relevant question on his mind, coming before anything else that needed to be discussed. It was all he managed to say at that moment.
"She's ok," Mike said quickly. "You know, given what…" he began to say but stopped himself as he watched Harvey's head drop down and a long sigh come out of his mouth, as if he had been waiting for that information to finally let go of an imaginary cord around his neck. "I…" Harvey tried, but his feelings choked him. "I lost it, Mike."
Harvey's eyes couldn't hold the tears and his voice failed him again. He turned slightly sideways, trying to recompose himself, or hide his face from his friend, guilt and regret spilling out. "I need to see her," he finally whispered.
"Harvey, I don't think it's a good idea," Mike urged him.
"Mike, please..."
"Go home, man" He turned around to go back in the building. "You'll talk to her another day."
"No, I have to see her," he begged, his hoarse voice stopping Mike by the door.
Harvey felt like his body was giving up, he had walked for hours after hitting a bar or two, knowing no amount of alcohol would drown the sound of his screams or the noisy door breaking and the glass spreading on the ground like a waterfall meeting a lake. All he wanted was a bed to throw himself down and lay until he felt whole again. But his mind refused to let go. He needed to see her, to look in her eyes, make sure she was all there, physically intact, even if for a second. He desperately needed to replace the last image he had of her for anything better than her scared face, to hear her say anything other than the deafening moan she had let out when he grabbed her shoulders. If he had hurt her, had even slightly bruised her, Harvey wasn't sure if he'd ever be the same, if he'd ever make it through tonight.
"Mike, look," he began, pulling all the strength from within, knowing he'd need to convince Mike in mere seconds. "if I don't get the chance to see her tonight ...I... I am going to sit on this sidewalk until you and Rachel leave and then I'm going in, whether that's gonna take another two hours, two days or two weeks, I will stay…" He paused for another breath, "I will stay."
Mike didn't know what exactly called at him, maybe his friends' eyes shot red, or the desperation in his tone, or maybe because he was a sucker for the prospect of Harvey and Donna as something else, or even just as they are, it was probably all of these, but he let out a breath amid a curse and signaled for Harvey to come in, knowing he'd get in trouble for this. But at some point they'd have to figure out what the deal was with those pictures and what in the world had happened that night, and Harvey was no help in his current state of mind. Neither was Donna.
They headed upstairs with Mike going in ahead of Harvey, who waited in the hallway. As he entered the apartment, Rachel leaned against the stove, watching for the water to boil to make more tea and Donna stood by her dining table, curtains pulled open as she looked out the window, arms crossed in front of her.
"Did you call?" Rachel asked as the kettle started to whistle.
"Not yet," Mike responded, not looking at her. He walked towards Donna.
"Why not? He heard Rachel say but his next words were not directed at her.
"He's here, Donna," Mike said quietly. "He said he has to see you."
For a second Mike wondered if she had heard him over the increasing noise of the kettle and over Rachel's loud interference. "You've got to be kidding me, Mike!"
Donna didn't move, but Mike had to walk back quickly to the door to stop Rachel from going outside.
"She's not talking to him!" Rachel practically hissed.
"Rach, this isn't our call, I under…" he held the door knob and tried to get her to lower her tone, unsuccessfully.
"Mike you saw what happened!" she spoke over his voice.
Donna turned on her heels to face them, before her voice interrupted their argument.
"Let him in," she whispered, bleakly.
Rachel stood incredulous, staring at her friend, then back at her fiancée, moving her hands to rest on her waist as she bit her lower lip in resignation. In a swift move, she turned the flame off and headed with decisive strides stopping in front of Donna, her mouth opening and her finger up in the air, ready to give her a piece of her mind.
"I'm sorry," Donna spoke softly before her. "I didn't need to be rude to you before."
Rachel's shoulders dropped and her hand moved to rest over her heart as she gave up on saying whatever she was about to, taking a deep breath.
"It's fine," she said, sweetly, like only she knew how, all of her resolve evaporating in seconds. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
Donna nodded, putting her hand over her friend's chest, squeezing Rachel's hand.
"Do you want us to stay?"
Donna shook her head. "He's my…." she began to say but stopped herself unsure of how to complete her own sentence when so many words seem fitting. Problem? Friend? Enemy? Love? "Harvey. It's just Harvey," she finished to the best of her ability.
He's my Harvey, Rachel smiled thinking how that sounded, realizing that her statement carried so much history in it that she had nothing to worry about. It's just her Harvey.
Donna had time for one last deep breath until Mike opened the door and Harvey felt all eyes on him. Over all of her anger, Rachel couldn't help but soften at the way he looked. Guess I'm not the only sucker, Mike thought as he watched her, but saw it better to keep the comment for himself.
Harvey walked past them, as if Mike and Rachel were mere ghosts, his gaze steady on Donna's, a wordless conversation happening then, just as their eyes met. The exchange was powerful, charged with an electricity that belonged to them only, a first contact that relayed he was now in a different skin, coming from another mindset than hours ago, unlike any other way Harvey had ever laid eyes on her; that she was in control this time, fragile but resilient, wearing a stronger coat than hours ago, but willing to undress to him. He stopped only inches away, his chest rising and sinking fast with his breaths, and before a word was said, he dropped to his knees and cried, his forehead leaning on her thighs and an I'm so sorry mumbled amid his sobs.
She let one hand rest on his hair as the other covered her own quivering mouth, Mike and Rachel closing the door behind them.
They stayed in the same position until both their cries subsided, until she wiped her burning tears from her face and nudged him to get up, thinking they had a lot to say and if any of them planned on getting any sleep tonight, then they better get started. She sat on a chair behind the dining table, a quick deja vu filling her memory of the night he cried wanting to turn himself in to Anita Gibbs. But this was different. As he stood up, she watched as his eyes seem to search for something on her, moving quickly from her shoulders to her arms then back up, until she finally understood what he was looking for.
"I'm not bruised if that's what you're wondering," she said. " I was in shock at... your reaction, not in pain."
Her remark didn't ease his mind as much as he hoped it would, the guilt digging deeper at him. "I...I would never, ever…" he tried to tell her, the thought of it making him sick, but her old habit of reading his thoughts came through. "I know, Harvey." It was still Donna making him feel better, but this time it had the opposite effect.
He removed his jacket and placed it on the chair, a move so familiar to her, she couldn't stop her heart from beating faster everytime he did that. It felt as if he lived there and his suit jacket always belonged to the back of one of her chairs, or the arm of the couch.
He sat across from her, still feeling like he should beg for forgiveness, say anything and everything he could possibly think of to get her to smile at him again, but apologizes need motives to become more meaningful. He would take it all back just to have her look at him like she did just hours ago with only her desk between them, such a short distance that he now wished he had rushed to close before being interrupted again. He desperately wanted the table to be the one obstacle between them again, but she felt as far as she had ever been.
"I wish you had told me," he finally broke the silence.
She turned her gaze back at him. "Did you want me to put it on my resume? she shot, setting the tone of the conversation.
"You're missing the point," he carefully accused. "That's not what I mean."
"Then tell me why," she said. "Tell me what I don't see, Harvey," and the way she added that bit washed over him. She was open, willing to hear him, in an altruistic skin only Donna showed and he couldn't not look at her and empty his soul on that table.
"You know everything about me," he began, and she knew she did. She knew his signature, his favorite designer shirts, which cologne he had on and his everyday rituals. She knew his fears, traumas and pains, as much as his pride, humor, ecstasy and gains. What was always intriguing to Harvey was how little she knew about how he felt for her, but that wasn't her fault. "Except that, to me, you're perfect."
Donna narrowed her eyes as a crippling doubt flooded her mind.
"What a sexist criticism disguised as compliment, Harvey," she gave him an ironic smile. "So the fact that I danced, and let that be clear, I said danced to other men for money makes me...less perfect?" She slightly rose her chin to prepare for his answer.
"No," he said without hesitation. "It just made me feel like you weren't... mine anymore. My Donna. The one I also know everything about. The one that is a part of my life, I...I felt betrayed."
He paused to look at her, meet her eyes again hoping he didn't sound insane, deeply wishing his truth could break through her.
"And I'm not saying that anything I felt justifies how I reacted. It doesn't. I was absolutely out of line and I would turn back time if I could. You know that If you said I hurt you, or that you're afraid of me now, I would forever feel like there was no punishment enough in this world for me," he said, swallowing the lump on his throat.
It was impossible not to see the guilt on his face. Donna looked away, folding her arms across her chest, angrily thinking that despite the whole showdown, still no one made her feel safer than him.
"It hurt, Donna. Seeing those pictures, those…" he blinked hard to erase the image of each photo.
"What hurt, Harvey? Just your pride? Or your heart as well?" she challenged him to confess, even though it was already undeniable.
The man he was before would have said it didn't matter. Before, he would have told her that how he felt for her wasn't the focus, or that she knew the answer even though she wanted reassurance.
"If you're asking me If I was jealous, the answer is yes," Harvey responded to the hidden message in her question. "I was sick to my stomach. I was blinded with hatred for every single one of those guys on those pictures, because every part of me wanted every part of you to myself."
Her heart couldn't help but feel a thrill at how different talking to him was now. He didn't hide himself. He was there, present, open and letting her in on how he felt.
"You think I'm one of your vinyls ? One of your cars? You can't own me," she added harshly and defensively, struggling to control her breath and to believe in her words. Doesn't he already? Hasn't he always owned you?
" And I'd trade it all for you. I don't want to own you, I just want you," he said and the arrogant smirk on his face made her want to slap him. Or kiss him. Donna felt dizzy at how fast her heart and mind switched control.
"Harvey, we're adults. You've been with other people, and so have I, this isn't news to you," she dismissed him, trying to counter his possessiveness by feigning an indifference that didn't belong to her. To them.
"And is there any reasoning in jealousy?" he questioned her, letting out a chuckle. "Besides, knowing that information is different than seeing it," he whispered and she knew they had discussed this before, whether it had been related to Stephen, or Paula, or Mark, even Scottie, there was always a part of them that ached for the other, or that hurt when an idea became real. "Especially now."
Either she acted quickly or she would be drunk in his words. The power he had over her was paralyzing. Harvey held all her strings, like the marionette she was, and it drove her nearly insane to feel like she was almost incapable of fighting him, or fighting her feelings for him. It was ironic that now, when she was ready, determined to not give in to her desire, to whisper his name and see him walk towards her, pick her up and hold her, it was when he looked ready to pull her to himself and never let go. Not like this. Not after all of this. It couldn't be, it wouldn't be that easy.
Before he had the chance to elaborate, Donna stood to look out the window, turning her back to him, aiming to switch the direction of the conversation, keep her head above water. "Let's focus on what matters," she said stoically, beginning her story without waiting for his permission. "I only worked for him for a few months. He owned another casino in Atlantic City. This girl I met at an improv class told me they were looking for dancers, said she had paid her entire semester just with what she made there," Donna scoffed at herself. "You can imagine how naive one would have to be to believe that, but I was just a girl from Connecticut who really, really wanted to make it on her own," she scoffed at her ingenuity. "So I went with her without any idea of what I was doing, only desperate to not have to quit school, quit the play I was in. As you know, asking my father for help wasn't an option. But I quickly learned the reality of it all. So that same day I left," she said, almost forgetting he was there, lost in her memories.
"When did you go back?" Harvey asked, more out of respect for her story than out of actual curiosity.
"About a month after that. My rent was due, the semester was over and I was desperate," she said. "In the beginning I didn't think I could do it, that I could...take my clothes off and spread my legs to arouse them," she purposely said to startle him, noticing it worked as he shuffled on the chair, clearing his throat. "But I was an actress, and a dancer. Not exactly that type of dancing but I picked up on it quickly. So I acted, every night, and in a way it was probably one of the most difficult characters I've played…" she trailed off. "Definitely the worst."
It was his turn to stand. Harvey took the tie out of his pocket and tossed it on top of his jacket. Hearing her say all of that made his chest burn, somehow increasing the regret he felt over his reaction, the awful words he had said to her.
"You know what the worst part of everything was?" she asked, taking steps towards the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea. Her head pounded again, begging for sleep. But if she was going to survive this conversation, she needed to make him feel she didn't care for his reasonings. Or didn't want to care. That his reaction made her bitter memories of over 20 years ago boil up like lava. she couldn't simply let his charm win her over. "The worst of it was that they didn't see me as a character. Every single one of them thought that in the end I'd want to fuck them for their money. That I was, in fact, Scarlet. They thought the same as you," she barely believed the merciless words out of her mouth.
Harvey took the hit. It hurt more than a jab to the chin, but he'd never retaliate.
"Please don't say that," he said as he shook his head. "You know I don't think that. I was angry."
But she wasn't done.
"You'll have my resignation tomorrow," she added without a single scratch on her throat, a straight face he'd seen before when she was angry at him.
His face fell and his chest hurt like a dagger twisted inwards, reaching the aorta, spilling blood and cutting his oxygen. "No," he let out with a breath.
"Harvey…" she attempted to reason.
"I don't want to hear that," Harvey said, impulsively. "We are fighting this," he added and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel slightly hopeful.
"We can't!"
"What we can't is let some arrogant piece of shit come into our firm and bully us into doing something," he pleaded.
Donna couldn't help but noticed that, for the first time, it was we instead of I and our in place of my.
"If I'm not COO, the threat of publishing those pictures is meaningless, Harvey," she said, ignoring him. " It'll be easier this way."
Harvey shook his head, unable to counter her argument with a fair professional response she would actually take. He wasn't the expert on reading people in the room, but it wasn't hard to realize she wouldn't look at him anymore. He watched as she sipped her tea, his mind understanding then she had been thinking of this for hours, had been wanting to tell him she'd given up since the beginning of their talk, her resignation already taking place within. He wouldn't let her. Wouldn't allow it. Truth was that being closer to her than ever, getting his feet wet at the good tide their had been riding had given him a glimpse of how they could be, the possibility of having it all with her, and Harvey Specter could definitely get used quickly to having the best of everything. He hurt for an intimacy broken by his reaction of hours earlier, but It was still there, still in her, and he knew he would have to go after it, pull it out, make her fight rise like she did to him countless times.
He stood and walked to the kitchen, standing inches from her and searching for her eyes til she looked down, avoiding his, but he didn't move.
"Last year we both sat here and you stopped me from going to Gibbs, you pulled the brakes on an emotional decision I was about to make because you said you didn't want to lose me," he paused for a breath, still looking for a recognition on her face that he had stroke a soft side, bringing back a memory she couldn't deny. "So now it's my turn. I am here asking you to tell me everything and fight by my side because the firm can't lose you, I can't bear to lose you, Donna."
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"I lost it, I know that, and whatever reason I have for having reacted the way I did is absurd, it's irrelevant, so you have every right to be angry. You have every right to want to punish me. You can hate me, you don't have to be my friend, you don't have to like me, you don't have to be with me in any other way rather than professionally, but don't leave the firm. I'm here asking you to trust me one more time, Donna...just one more time, because I will let you keep your job and your dignity even if it is the last thing I do."
It was her turn to shake her head, but he could see her resilience was fading.
"Donna, listen," he said, touching her chin and forcing her look at him. "I know you think I'm here just to save the firm from…"
"Embarrassment," she cut him off.
"...from a risky deal," Harvey corrected her, "But I am here because I can't bear the thought of someone coming into the firm and threatening you, whether you're my COO or not. We can fight this, but I need you."
She finally held his gaze.
She knew it was a mistake the moment she did, the same pull of early in the evening made her body relax and lean into his.
His desire was unstoppable as he felt her body melt slightly into his, his right leg moved slowly in between hers to catch her.
"Fine," she whispered, biting her bottom lip. "We'll fight."
It felt as good to hear as one of his father's songs. He looked at her eyes again, searching for permission, begging, and seeing her slowly blink a consent, Harvey moved his face closer, parting his lips as his mouth touched hers. They stood there like teenagers, their lips frozen on each other's as 13 years caught up to them, then his hands moved to her waist, pulling her towards him, as if she'd break if he didn't hold her. Moving her hands to the back of his neck, she pressed his face against hers and breathed his scent, their lips still locked as neither dared to move them or pull for a breath, afraid it wasn't real. Harvey slowly pushed her against the counter, eager for a deeper contact as she arched her back against the granite top. As his hands moved down her hips, gripping her thighs to pick her up, the movement knocked the tea mug inside the sink, the noise startling them as they broke apart. She licked her lips, putting her arms up as he tried to hold her again. The microwave clock got her attention, 2:30 am, and he knew his night was over by following her eyes. Donna moved quickly to her room without saying a word.
He took a few breaths to get some oxygen to his brain, his stretched arms gripping the countertop as he started to wonder how he'd make it home crippled by complete exhaustion.
"You can take the couch tonight," she said as she emerged from the bedroom with a blanket and a pillow, throwing them at him. "We'll continue this conversation when it's all over, are we clear?"
"We're clear," he nodded, and finally let himself collapse in her living room as she shut her bedroom door.
