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I Wish I Were Blind

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He's really done it now, Donna thought, as a roaring applause erupted around her, people lifting from the seats in cheer and adulation.

Not wishing to start a rumor or two, she plastered on a smile, put her hands together, and joined the crowd, as if Harvey hadn't just gotten married and she was actively celebrating a wonderful performance on Broadway or something.

A small part of her had expected him to come to his senses before actually saying 'I do'. But that futile hope had wilted when she'd walked into the church this morning. And as he'd spoken his vows, every word had felt like a nail in the coffin of their relationship. And by the time the officiant had requested the rings, the casket was six feet under, ready to be buried whole, never to see the light of day again.

She even thought to have caught a flicker of relief cross Scottie's features as Harvey had slid the ring on her finger, like the woman was half-expecting him to bail, too.

But no. He'd stuck to his commitment. Or walked into Dana's trap with eyes wide open. Tomayto tomahto. Still, Donna had to give him some credit for making it to the altar before she did.

She shook her head at the reality. Harvey Specter. Married. Everything would be different going forward. No more late night drinks or long phone calls. No more inappropriate banter. Basically, no more friendship. The thought alone felt unimaginable, unbearable. He had been slipping through her fingers for the past few months, and now she wasn't sure how she could face him every day, work side by side as if nothing had changed. Because everything had.

And it had all happened so quickly, too.

She definitely had to give Scottie some credit as well. The way that woman had sunken her claws into Harvey when she'd realized he was open to a relationship had been beyond anything Donna had ever seen. She wouldn't put it past Mrs. Specter to already have the baby names picked out.

The rumor—thanks to Rachel's intel, who in turn got Mike to pry—was that she and Harvey bonded over their mutual experiences in therapy shortly after Mike and Rachel's wedding, concluding that they were no longer the same people they were last time they took a shot at a relationship.

Although that was certainly true for Harvey, so far, Donna hadn't been able to say the same for Scottie.

But who was she to judge? She'd only known both of them for well over a decade.

And because of their shared history, it had taken Dana a measly six months to coax Harvey into agreeing to seal the deal once and for all. That conniving little—

"Donna?"

A soft hand landed on her shoulder, and she turned around to find the lovely brunette it belonged to. "Hey, Rachel."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied. Unconvincingly, too, because Rachel shot her a pitiful look. She'd gotten used to the expression. Numerous people had shared similar glances over the last weeks, like she was wearing a giant It-should-have-been-me billboard around her neck.

The communal display of pity only fueled her conviction that the decision she was about to make was the right one.

So, she squared her shoulders, conjured memories of puppies and unicorns to nourish her attitude, and followed the stream of people out into the street where the fall sun beamed as brightly as the happy couple as they got into their limousine to more cheers and applause.

At least the hard part was over. The next phase of the full-day event would have booze, and wasn't that exactly what she needed.


Donna was waiting for a refill on her martini when someone sidled up beside her. She knew who it was before he even spoke. Something about his energy. God, she would miss that.

"Hey, you," Harvey said. "I haven't seen you all night."

No shit, Sherlock, she thought. Having managed to avoid him ever since she set foot in the reception hall, Donna was well aware she'd have to talk to him at some point. So she raised her glass, smiling broadly.

"Congratulations, Harvey."

"Thanks, Donna. Hey, did you meet my mom?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't. I saw her around, though." She kept to herself how she had watched them dance earlier, wondering if Lily even knew who she was. Would she ever? And why did it hurt to know she might never?

She shook the feeling off. No need to add to the already multiplying emotions of loss. "So, how does it feel to be a married man?" she asked. Before she could stop herself, her gaze moved to his hand, the evidence of this afternoon's ceremony heart-wrenchingly obvious in the gold ring on his finger.

"I don't know. It's like how people ask you how it feels to be a year older on your birthday. Everything is still the same."

She chuckled. Surely he had to be joking. But when he didn't give her any inclination he was, she wondered if he really was blind to the implications of his decision. "I could disagree, but I won't," she said. She added a smile for good measure and directed her attention to the crowd. "Because this is your party."

Harvey gave her a questioning look, detecting her forced silence about something he was clearly missing and she was clearly upset about. But he was in a festive mood, and he didn't feel like having his spirit squashed, so he said, "Well, if it is… care to dance?"

Donna stared at the lifted hand extended for her to take, and about a thousand excuses flooded her mind. But he might find a rejection suspicious, especially since she had always been a willing dance partner until now. So, she swallowed her objections and slipped her palm in his, and followed him to the dance floor.

Might as well savor the memory, she thought.

Not one for celebrating personal triumphs, Harvey had found himself surprisingly at ease throughout the day. Getting together with his closest friends and family was something he'd never assumed he would care for, let alone enjoy, and yet, here he was, having a blast. And everybody present seemed to carry a similar disposition, even if that was partly due to the open bar. Everybody but the person in his arms. Not only did her entire body feel tense as he twirled and drew her in, he could only describe Donna's recent behavior as off. Lately, she'd been more withdrawn, not engaging in his flirty banter, keeping their phone calls short and to the point. He wasn't a complete idiot. He knew her guarded conduct had to do with his engagement, nevertheless, the idea that a major life choice he'd made was affecting their relationship bothered him. And good mood or not, the unease she was exuding worried him, so he asked, "What's going on?"

Knowing that this would be the last time she'd ever be in his arms, Donna swallowed the lump in her throat and closed her eyes in the process. When she opened them, she kept her gaze steady on his tie, afraid that looking directly at him might keep her from saying what she had to say. "I'm leaving, Harvey."

"But… the party just started," he stammered, confused.

"No, I mean, I'm leaving the firm."

As if she'd pushed the button to immobilize him, she felt his muscles tense up.

"What? Why?"

Suddenly Harvey stopped moving and stepped back to create some distance between their bodies, as if he needed to observe her entire frame instead of only her face.

"I got a job in Seattle. I was going to give my notice on Monday. But it's done."

"Donna?" He frowned, like she was saying unthinkable things. "You can't just quit. You are a huge part of the firm. We need you."

She elicited a sad chuckle, suppressing the lump lodged in her throat. "You don't need me anymore, Harvey."

As she glanced up into his dark brown eyes, she wondered if he realized she wasn't merely talking about their professional bond.

"Donna…"

As he searched for words to say, over his right shoulder, she noticed his new bride parting the crowd on her way over to no doubt claim her property, and Donna was in no mood for battle. "I'm sorry, Harvey. I have to go." Before his wife reached them, she turned on her heel and escaped into the sea of guests.

Harvey, left stunned, gaped at the void she'd created.

"Is everything okay?" Dana asked.

"No! Did you know Donna is leaving the firm?"

"No. I didn't." She watched Harvey stare in the direction his former secretary had disappeared in and quickly concluded that, instead of gracing the situation with their energy, a distraction was just what he needed. As a rule of thumb, the less attention Donna got, the better. "Come on, there are a few people I'd like you to meet," she said, tugging at his arm.

Torn between the urge to follow Donna and not wanting to start something with Scottie, Harvey decided he would let Donna go for now. But no way was he letting her quit that easily. He'd make sure to have a serious conversation with her on Monday. She needed to know—Shit. His honeymoon. He and Scottie were going to Italy for two weeks. The same time span that would mark Donna's official notice.


"How long have you known about this?"

"Harvey." Taking a drink from his glass of champagne, Mike steeled himself for the confrontation he had been expecting.

"How long, Mike?"

Mike let the accusatory tone go, recognizing the misguided wrath. "Donna asked me last week, but nothing was set in stone until this morning."

Harvey pursed his lips. "Right. So you're saying Donna decided she'd leave everything behind on a whim, and in two weeks she'll be gone. And she did that all on her own? That's bullshit, and you know it."

"And you're suggesting I had something to do with her decision?"

"I don't know, Mike. But you sure wheedled her into meddling in my relationship before, so maybe this is just another one of your schemes."

Mike swallowed the anger and accusation thrown his way, not remotely surprised Harvey would lay a guilt trip on him.

When Donna had inquired the previous week about a position for her at his firm, she hadn't needed to explain why she was considering leaving. One person could only take so much. And if, by now, Harvey didn't see what he was missing out on, he might never. "I may have rooted for Donna to be with you, but this was all her. And I support your relationship, Harvey. I would never have agreed to be your best man if I didn't."

Harvey exhaled loudly, his frustration deflating. "I know," he conceded. "I'm sorry."

"Good. And listen, Harvey, Donna leaving might be hard, but it might give you both a chance to start fresh."

"Yeah, maybe." Except starting fresh sounded about as much fun as accidentally putting your hand in a meat grinder.


A week later, as the sun began to set, casting the sky over Lake Como in different hues of yellow and orange, Harvey leaned over the balcony of his hotel room.

When he'd agreed to let Scottie handle all the arrangements, he had foolishly assumed she would book the honeymoon suite at a place on par with the Four Seasons, not a 300-square-foot single-bedroom dump that felt more like a B&B than a five-star hotel.

Dana had defended her choice by mumbling something about wanting to get the true Italian experience, and how a cottage was supposed to be romantic. And for about forty-eight hours, he had forced himself to believe the same.

During those first few days, he'd had the evenings to himself while Scottie fought the jet lag and went to bed early. But thanks to a shitty internet connection, TV shows he didn't understand, and no other distraction to keep him entertained, the newlywed bliss he was supposed to revel in was as elusive as the wi-fi in the apartment. All he felt was cramped—with nowhere to escape to.

And the location was the least of his problems. After all, the food was good; the people were nice; the surroundings were breathtaking. Traveling to a new country definitely had its perks, yet at the same time, the urge to return to the States grew with each passing day. The ticking of the clock meant he was inching closer to losing Donna forever, and although Mike's 'fresh start' comment had kept him going initially, the dread of returning to work in a week and not having Donna there slowly suffocated him. He'd even snuck into a pharmacy yesterday, when Scottie was busy scouring a flea market, to buy whatever natural anxiety relievers they had, because the tension in his body that had ensnared him since Donna announced her departure from the firm worsened by the minute. And he recognized the rigidity like nothing else. This had all the markers of a panic attack in the making if he didn't get a grip on his spiraling conscience.

To make matters worse, he'd received a message from Marcus that his mother had been admitted to the ER with shortness of breath and chest pains. His brother had guaranteed him the situation was not life-threatening, but Harvey hadn't felt reassured, especially being so far from home. And, of course, Scottie had shared none of his concern, and he had nearly bitten her head off for it. How could she be so callous? But then he remembered, Scottie knew very little of his history with Lily and Bobby or even the circumstances of Marcus' divorce. Having had issues with her own family, she had never asked and he had never offered, so he couldn't blame her for not recognizing his fear of losing his mother. But her indifference did fuel the urge to give Donna a call. She'd know; she'd calm him down. But calling her was no longer an option, for multiple reasons. One, she probably didn't want him to, and two, Scottie would turn twenty shades of green with envy if he sought out another woman for comfort. Specifically if that woman was Donna.

"You ready?"

Scottie's voice disrupted his thoughts, and he decided that might be a good thing. If he learned anything in therapy, it was to focus on the here and now. So, he inhaled, exhaled, repeated, and said, "Yeah. Let's go."

Donna's heart, though broken, continued to beat obnoxiously, forcing her awake after another restless night. Each day, she got up, hoisted herself into one of her many designer dresses, and went to work.

Keeping herself busy, she spent most of her time making sure her departure would not inconvenience the firm; hiring and training her replacement, John Delaney.

Being at the office without Harvey there, without the chance to see or speak to him on a daily basis, gave her a sense of what was waiting for her in Seattle, but she tried not to dwell on the utter lack of joy she felt not having him around.

And when she came home in the evening, her thoughts would drift to Italy, and how Harvey and Scottie were likely enjoying themselves in some tiny town overlooking the ocean or a lake, eating pasta and drinking wine, before going back to their honeymoon suite to make love all night. Because that's what newlyweds did. And the knowledge he was doing all of that with anybody other than her wrenched her heart until she thought it would stop beating altogether. So, she swallowed the discomfort with another glass of scotch.

She was aware her choice of drink came loaded with sentimental value—the memories of nights spent emptying a bottle with Harvey after a big win returning in full color. But while she was still in New York, she allowed herself to wallow. Soon she'd be across the country, far away from here, starting over.

The thought sent a ripple of dread throughout her body. Did she even know who she was without Harvey? Their lives were so interwoven, the notion of untangling them seemed intolerably cruel. The worst part was being reminded in unguarded moments, like Marcus calling her to ask if she could get in touch with Harvey because there was something wrong with Lily. Thankfully, Harvey had returned the call while she had been speaking to his brother, so there'd been no need for her to track him down. But the urge had remained to check in on him. But Scottie wouldn't appreciate her concern, so she'd let it go. She had to let him go.

If only she knew how.


"Harvey, I was surprised to see your name on my calendar today. What brings you to my office?" Lipschitz said.

Harvey, fighting a jet lag of his own—Or was it the sleepless nights?—leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I had a panic attack the other day." When the attack had passed, Louis' therapist was the first person Harvey thought of to call. The man already knew enough of his history, and, more importantly, Harvey trusted the guy.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. But you are able to identify the episode, it sounds like this is something you've experienced before."

"It is," he said, realizing the cause of his anxiety hadn't changed in years. Clearly, he hadn't learned all that much in the meantime. Or rather, for all the changes he'd been through since, one thing remained constant. Or rather, someone.

"Panic attacks usually indicate a desire to control an uncontrollable situation. Do you perhaps know what triggered the attack?"

Harvey leaned back into the couch cushions. "Donna left."

"I see." Stan took some notes, remembering the man's issues with abandonment. "All I know about her is from my sessions with Louis. He all but worshiped her," he said, smiling.

"I'm not surprised." Harvey smirked, almost adding Donna deserved every praise imaginable, but he kept his cards close to his chest, for now.

"He often referred to you as being like partners. Is that how you would describe your relationship with Donna?"

"I've known her for a very long time. We've always been a team." He rubbed a hand over his face as twelve years' worth of memories rushed into his mind. "We've been through so much together. Hell, I'm not even sure I'd be where I am today if it wasn't for her. She's family."

"Family. So, she means a great deal to you."

"She does."

"And did Donna give a reason for her departure?"

"No! That's what's so frustrating about this."

He scribbled down something else, then looked up. With a smile, he said, "I see you got married. Congratulations."

Harvey glanced at his wedding ring and absentmindedly twisted the gold band. "Thanks."

"What is her name?"

"Scottie. Dana. Actually, her name is Dana Scott, but I've always called her Scottie."

"That sounds like you've known her for quite some time, too."

"I have."

"So, tell me about your wife."

The choice of pronoun had Harvey swallow bitterly. "We went to Harvard together. And we dated for a while, but it didn't work out. We were both too busy focusing on our careers. And then a few years ago, she moved to New York, and we started seeing each other again, but it didn't work out then, either."

"What happened?"

"I kept a secret from her, and when she found out I was hiding something, she decided that she didn't want to stay."

"Was Donna already working for you, then?"

"She was."

"Did they get along?"

"Donna and Scottie…" He shook his head.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I always suspected Donna was jealous of Scottie on some level."

"And why would that be?"

"Donna once told me…" He clasped his hands in his lap, pausing. "We slept together. Once. But back then…"

"Continue."

"I was a different person then. I… I am not proud of the things I did."

"Anything specific?"

"I was never the relationship kind of guy. And with success came a lot of attention. I guess I liked that. And took advantage of it."

"So, would you have described yourself as promiscuous?"

"Yes."

"Is that how you and Donna met?"

"No. We both worked at the D.A.'s Office, and she knew who I was and introduced herself to me one night in a bar and asked to be moved to my desk. I pursued her from the moment we met, but she had a rule about sleeping with co-workers. And then we both quit, and it happened."

"And it was only one time?"

"Yes. Because I got us both another job, and she told me we should forget about what had happened if we wanted to work together."

"That is very sensible. Were you able to do that?"

"I mean, it's not exactly something you easily forget. But we made it work. For a long time."

"What do you mean?"

"She kissed me once. Years later. Out of the blue. She said it was because she needed to see for herself if she had feelings for me. But she didn't."

"And how did you feel?"

"It pissed me off, because I was in a relationship at the time."

"And did that relationship end because of what Donna did?"

"Indirectly, yes."

"Did you resent her for it?"

"No," he blurted, without hesitation and a hint of repugnance at the mere thought.

"Interesting," Stan said, observing Harvey's body language before taking another note. "And now that you're married, Donna chose to leave."

"And I don't get it. She said she didn't have feelings for me."

"Do you think there's a chance Donna may have lied? Because, as you mentioned, you were in a relationship. Perhaps she didn't want to complicate things further."

Harvey mulled over the possibility. Surely, she would have said something. But what if Lipschitz was right? "I don't know."

"If I'm not mistaken, the last time I saw you, you were still single. Correct?"

Harvey nodded.

"So, things progressed quite quickly for you. What made you decide to get married now?"

"Scottie and I reconnected after a case I needed her help with, and we started seeing each other again, and after a few months, she was the one who proposed the idea. We've both been in therapy, separately, on and off, and we've both grown a lot, I guess. So, when Scottie suggested we go all in this time, it felt like the right thing to do."

As Harvey listened to himself speak, a sting of mortification crept up his spine. Because that was the shittiest reason to get married, if he ever heard one. At least he'd had a significant relationship to compare his current one with. And even though he had truly tried in his endeavors with Paula, things with Scottie sure felt a lot easier; less forced and more organic. But perhaps he had mistaken that level of comfort for love. He sighed at the possibility.

"And do you still feel that way?"

When Harvey remained silent, Lipschitz glanced over his notes. "You said you pursued Donna for a while when you first met."

Harvey nodded.

"Were you interested in her beyond sex?"

"No. I don't think I was."

"And did that feeling ever change over the years?"

Harvey stared at the man opposite him, like he had just posed the one question that had loomed over him for as long as he could remember but nobody had had the audacity to ask, including himself.

"Things have always been different with her. When she would date, it would bother me, but I wasn't jealous. I can't really explain it. And she had the same with me." He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap.

"So, tell me then, how would you have felt if the situation were reversed and Donna had gotten married?"

Harvey raised his eyebrows, his body immediately responding with appalled alarm. Yet, he said, "I would want her to be happy," and meant every word.

Lipschitz made more notes. Then he paused, trying to mold his thoughts into speech. "Knowing Donna was not interested, is it perhaps possible you internalized her rejection and projected your affection onto the next best thing? In this case, your now wife?"

"Are you saying I made a mistake marrying Scottie?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that perhaps the reason you are experiencing panic attacks again stems from unresolved issues you have with Donna. And I'd like to discuss them with you."

Harvey sank back into the cushions. "Great."


A light knocking sounded on Donna's door. The lack of punch excluded at least one person she'd still been expecting—or hoping for.

In all honesty, she would have preferred his presence.

"Goddammit, Donna!"

"Scottie—"

Donna stepped backwards as Dana blew past her in a whirlwind of rage. "Come on in," she mumbled.

Halfway into the living room, Scottie pivoted on her toes. "You did this on purpose so you could finally get his attention," she added, pointing an accusatory finger in Donna's direction.

Scottie knew being with Harvey meant vying for his attention at times. But she had assumed it would be with women that were actually there. If Donna left, she'd no longer be in his life. And ghosts were a hell of a lot tougher to fight than gold-digging floozies she could scare off with a wedding ring.

"Careful, Dana. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, it worked. He's having panic attacks again."

Goddammit, Harvey. Donna's skin tingled as anger and incredulity mixed with guilt and a deep desire to comfort Harvey, thinking how he was suffering because of her choices. But that was a two-way street, wasn't it? If anything, Harvey's mental state only fortified her belief she was doing the right thing, because one of them had to break out of this never-ending cycle of unintentional pain they kept inflicting on each other. Schooling her features and crossing her arms, she said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm sure you are. But I'm his wife now. And I won't let anything jeopardize our marriage. So, I'm here to ask you that when he comes here asking why you are leaving or begging you to stay, you give him an excuse. But Donna, please don't tell him how you really feel. Because we don't stand a chance with you in the picture."

"Don't you think that is why I took a job in Seattle in the first place?" she said, hoping that Scottie accepting such an explanation would grant her a much needed sense of superiority, instead of feeling like a goddamn powerless spectator.

Unblinking, Scottie replied, "No, I don't. Because I don't believe for a second you wishing for our relationship to succeed had anything to do with your decision. I think you are jealous and you can't stand the thought of him being my husband."

"I think you should leave," Donna said, trying hard to keep her composure, because Scottie had no idea how right she was.


The next night, Harvey glanced around Donna's bare apartment. Most of her belongings were packed up. All that remained was unadorned furniture to illustrate the vacuum she was creating, and he faltered at the reality of her pending departure.

"You're really leaving."

"I really am," she said, staring at his back as he made his way through a wall of boxes and lowered himself onto her couch, hands clutched, hunching forward. She joined him at the other end, tucking one leg under her to face him.

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow."

Harvey let a silence fall, digesting the notion she would soon be out of his life—as much as such an idea could be digested. If she really wanted to go, he wouldn't stop her. But so far, she hadn't given him a single reason, and even Lipschitz had agreed she at least owed him that. "Are you leaving because of Scottie, Donna?"

"Of course not," she deadpanned, summoning the actress in her. This was the moment Scottie had warned her about, and as the brunette's words replayed in her mind, searched for an excuse. However, seeing Harvey here, on her couch, his face contorted with anguish, twisted her resolve. Everything in her screamed to share the real reason, like it might be the last chance she ever got. But she was aware she couldn't do that to him. Not again. Not after what happened with Paula.

"Then why? I thought you liked your job? And I know there's always been some bad blood between you two, and that us being together probably bothers—"

"There's no bad blood, Harvey," she said, cutting him off before he touched the one subject she was intent on steering away from. "And you know I love my job," she added, emphasizing the word 'love' to reiterate she hadn't made this decision lightly. "But we both know Scottie doesn't like me."

"That's not true," he said. Yet, as soon as the words were out, he wondered how sure he was of his own statement.

"Oh, come on, Harvey. You're not that blind." Although she couldn't blame his naivete. She probably wouldn't want to see it either if the roles were reversed. But her frustrated relationship with Dana was undeniable and the cause for the friction crystal goddamn clear. "She's always been jealous of our friendship."

"So? That's no reason to leave."

"Isn't it? What will you do when something comes up and she demands you choose between me and her, huh? You're gonna pawn me off to the next investment banker you know, like you did with Stu?"

Goddammit. He thought they were past that. He sure as hell apologized enough for it. And that whole situation only happened because of her actions, not his. "Well, that depends. You plan on kissing me again?" he spat.

With just six words, the air in the room compressed, and Donna swallowed.

"Trust me, I don't," she said, veiling the dismay in her tone with a huff. "But I hope for your sake she knows about our history, so it can't bite you in the ass again."

"She does." He carefully left out the part where Scottie had been the one to badger him until he'd finally snapped and blurted out they had indeed had sex once. But that was years ago, and she'd been fine with their past, as far as he knew. But now he wondered if he had been wrong about the level of resentment between the women. And for the first time, that pervading envy was affecting his life, and he hated every bit of it. "I just don't get this. Are you seriously gonna walk away from your family like we mean nothing?"

"Of course you mean something." The insinuation she might feel otherwise churned her insides. "You mean everything! But I have to do this for me."

She rose to her feet, struggling to keep her emotions in check as her conscience warred with itself.

"Yeah? And what about me?" he said, standing as well. "Did you ever consider my feelings in this?"

She scoffed, bringing a palm to her forehead. Yeah, like how you considered me when you married someone else? "I can't keep putting you first, Harvey."

He stared at her, realizing, on some level, he had expected her to. Like he had expected her to stay and be happy for him. Okay, so maybe that had been too much to ask, but packing up and running was unlike the Donna he knew. And he knew her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No," she said, averting her eyes.

"Donna?"

"Let it go, Harvey."

She faced away from him, and the conviction he was on to something gained momentum. So he pressed on. "Talk to me."

All he saw was a shake of her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. After all this time, being shut out felt like a slap in the face. These were the hard truths they'd promised to always share, and here she was, treating him like a goddamn stranger. "For god's sake." Her reticence fueled his frustration, causing his voice to be louder than intended. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I love you!" she shouted, exasperation forcing her hands up in the air as she swiveled around. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought to keep them contained.

As she watched the words arrive, contorting his face into a question mark, she knew there was no room for ambiguity. So, she added, "I'm in love with you, Harvey."

With the proclamation, she let out a sigh, inhaling air as if it were her very first breath. Then she waited, watching him.

Initially, he frowned, then his lips parted slightly, but he remained silent.

She shook her head. "But I waited too long."

"Donna…" he breathed, his vocal chords incapable of forming any other sounds as his mind tumbled and tripped over itself. She didn't just blurt out she was in love with him. He imagined it. Because, what the hell?

"I didn't think you were ready. Or perhaps I wasn't. I don't know. Either way, it's too late."

In two strides, he was standing inches away, hands boldly capturing her waist, about to kiss the living daylights out of her. But a tiny voice kept him from doing something he would certainly regret, so he froze.

Donna did too, shocked by his explosive maneuver and the very unexpected physical contact that followed.

Suddenly, the room's temperature raised through the roof as the air grew heavy between them.

Wide eyes peered up at him, and she chewed her lip, waiting for him to make a move. But he couldn't. And she knew it. So they remained motionless as thirteen years of missed opportunities piled up between them.

Eventually, Donna dropped her gaze and reached to raise his left hand. Then she gently twirled the ring on his finger. "Do you still think it's a good idea for us to work together?"

"Jesus Christ, Donna," he mumbled. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You go home and be married, Harvey," she said, adding, "and you let me go." Dropping his palm, she stepped away from his magnetic body as a single tear escaped down her cheek. "But I can't stay and watch you be happy with someone else. Not anymore. Not again."

As the words left her lips, Donna felt like she was floating. Unloading over a decade of baggage sure had her feeling light as a feather. Not that informing him she loved him changed anything about her situation, judging by the grievous look on Harvey's face. No surprise there. He wouldn't choose her now; walk away from his commitment to Scottie. But she found peace knowing that at least she'd been honest with him—even if Dana had asked her not to. And who knew, perhaps a few years down the line they could be friends again. But to retain her sanity, she needed a break and heal from the wound she had let him carve inside her heart.

"I think you should go, Harvey."

Harvey wanted to fight; wanted to explain how they could still make it work. But deep down, he knew she was right. So, he moved to the entryway, turned around one last time to glance at her face, and left. And as the door locked behind him, an icy void nestled in his ribcage.

The minute she was by herself, Donna sagged onto the sofa, her body shaking from the emotions sweeping violently under her skin.

Although Harvey had coaxed the confession out of her, she had barely resisted, offering the truth in a final attempt to save their friendship, or perhaps because she could no longer carry her feelings in the shadows of their relationship. And yet, the situation remained unchanged. If anything, she had probably only made things worse. They had come so close to kissing, but just because they hadn't, didn't mean her proclamation hadn't messed with his head. And she'd sworn—after the whole Paula-debacle—she would never do that to him again.

Guilt ripped her apart as she sank her face into her hands, letting the tears consume her, convinced more than ever that leaving was the best decision. And her only option.

On the walk home, Harvey's mind would not shut off. But instead of coming up with a solution, the damn thing kept circling back to defeat. Even if Donna shoved her feelings aside and stayed and they found a way to keep their communication professional and detached, the fact she wouldn't be there to celebrate his wins or perk him back up after a loss meant it simply wasn't worth the trouble.

But what did his wins even mean if Donna wasn't there to share them? Who would he go to for help or advice or when he needed to be put in his place and there was nobody with the balls to tell him? Never had anyone seen through the facade he carried or cared enough to break his walls down. Over the years, he'd learned to lower his fortifications around the people he cared most about—like Scottie. But nobody ever bothered to ask why he had an armor to begin with. But Donna did. She got him.

Even in marriage, Donna was still the person he felt closest to—something Lipschitz had easily pointed out in their session. And he knew for certain that having Donna in his life wasn't purely a need anymore. He wanted her there. Through the good times and the bad. He'd learned that the hard way after Paula. And Donna was right. What would he do if Scottie forced him to choose like his ex had? Sure, he and Paula hadn't had a history like him and Scottie's, and walking away from a girlfriend seemed easier than bailing on a marriage. But who was he kidding? No woman compared to Donna. And, as clearly as he could see through his jumbled thoughts, no-one ever would.

What a mess. Goddamn perfect timing, too. How could she just profess her love for him like that? Like it wasn't more than a simple statement of fact. Because it sure as hell wasn't to him.

The proclamation had tapped at a door in his heart he'd kept locked up for a long time; a door she had told him he could never open. Yet, there she'd been, waving the key in his face. The desire to let her in had washed over him like a fresh summer wave on an empty beach, but sadly, the weight on his left ring finger had reminded him his hands were tied. Scottie had made sure of that, trapping him, like a goddamn animal.

With a million thoughts running rampant in his brain, he quietly crawled into bed a while later. Unfortunately, Scottie wasn't as asleep as she appeared.

"How did it go?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Let's talk about it in the morning," he said, draping an arm over his eyes. Now was not the time. He needed to process. A lot.

Shortly after sunrise, Harvey, with a heavy head—How could he be hungover if he hadn't had a drop to drink last night?—sauntered into his living area. Scottie stood at the kitchen island, already dressed, steaming cup in hand.

He walked around the counter to pour himself some coffee as the air crackled with silent tension.

Throughout the night, as he tossed and turned, eventually settling for staring at the ceiling, he'd tried to find a way to broach the subject. Tried and failed. So, shortly before 5 am, Harvey had thrown in the towel and surrendered to allowing the conversation to happen naturally. Because he realized, ultimately, he didn't stand that much to lose. Of course, his ego had disagreed, but years of therapy had lowered the volume of that voice enough that he could ignore its call now and listen to his heart instead. If only he knew what the damn thing was saying.

"So? What did she say?" Scottie finally said.

He sighed, his heartbeat firing rapidly as his wife's words pierced the quiet, then he slowly and very reluctantly turned around.

Leaning against the counter, he said, "She's not coming back."

"Did she say why?"

Harvey clenched his jaw. He didn't want to betray Donna by divulging what she'd said, but her explanation was the entire reason he needed to have this conversation, so he grudgingly mumbled, "She can't work with me anymore… because she has feelings for me."

Scottie recoiled inwardly. As if she'd stepped into oncoming traffic, a flash of dread crashed into her sternum, and she shook her head. "Goddammit. I can't believe she said that."

Harvey shot her a quizzical look.

"Oh, come on. She's always been in love with you."

"That's not true."

"Harvey. She's been pining for you for over a decade. It wasn't like she hid it, either. And now we're married, she—"

"Scottie," he growled, convinced he had no interest in hearing what she was about to say.

She measured him, heeding his warning. Then she said, "Do you love her, Harvey?"

"Of course, I do," he replied, as if his love for Donna compared in any way to his love for Scottie. "But that doesn't mean… I married you." And wasn't that the ultimate form of loyalty? He may have reassessed his choice of partner last night, but what did it say about him if he walked away now? He was many things, but coward wasn't one of them.

"Tell me honestly. Are you regretting that decision?"

As she backed him further into a corner, forcing him to face a reality he had no intention of confronting, he tried to postpone the inevitable. "Scottie. It's not that simple."

"It's a simple yes or no answer, Harvey."

Coward or not, winning no longer seemed to be an option, either. Might as well get used to the feeling, he thought. Because without Donna, he'd be losing for the rest of his days, anyway. Above all, how could he stay in this relationship when deep down he knew he was in love with someone else? The fact Donna was leaving tomorrow had kept him up most of the night, not the shitstorm his marriage was in. So, he swallowed hard, accepting failure, as a mixture of shame, regret, intolerable disappointment in himself, and the grief of the mess he'd made of his life brought tears to his eyes. "I'm sorry, Scottie."

"I won't say it for you, Harvey, so say it."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, rounding his kitchen island until he stood before her. "You know I love you." He never thought those three words would be so easy to speak. Surely, if you were terrified of losing someone, a layer of dread should weigh down the meaning. But he'd found the vocalization wasn't that hard when the intention was platonic. And in hindsight, that's all he ever felt towards Dana.

She shook her head, clearly not willing to hear those words, as tears filled her eyes. "Say it."

He inhaled deeply and said, "I think we made a mistake."

"Goddammit."

Although she'd whispered, the utterance sounded like a yell in his ears.

"You asshole!" She didn't meet his eyes. Instead, her tears trickled down her face as she raised her fists and started hammering his chest like a drum.

All he could do was wrap her in his arms until her rightful anger subsided.


Can we talk? I need to see you.

In the back of a cab, Donna reached for her phone and then proceeded to read and reread the words on the screen, the text message from Harvey strangely unsettling.

Some thirty-six hours ago, she'd told him—in no uncertain terms—that she loved him, and not a word from him since. And now she was en route to the airport, and he wanted to see her. Talk about shitty timing. Besides, she didn't feel like having another session where he'd beg her to stay without really saying why.

I'm on my way to JFK. My plane leaves in an hour.

Don't go anywhere until I get there.

Staring at the words, the urgency dripping off them, Donna's heart clenched. What if he had something pressing to tell her? She quickly shoved the thought aside. She was flying to Seattle today. She didn't have time to contemplate an alternate universe where Harvey belatedly realized she was the one. He was married, for god's sake.

Not knowing what else to do, she sent him the airline she was traveling with, so at least he knew where to go. Then she reread the message a hundred times as her heart jumped nervously, hope flaring annoyingly in her chest.

Glancing at the clock, she realized she still had some time before departure, and when the taxi pulled up to her terminal, she piled her luggage onto a cart, and once inside, picked a seat with a view of the main entrance.

To calm her nerves, she got a double shot of espresso with a splash of vanilla. But the caffeine only catapulted her already frenzied heart rate, and she looked at the time again. The minutes crawled by. Soon, she'd have to go. Soon her plane would leave. She checked her phone. No messages. Should she call him? Not that she doubted he was on his way, but a minute ago, the flight information had changed to 'boarding'. She could only wait so long, and wasn't that the perfect metaphor for their relationship.

Then, like a vision, she spotted him walking through the revolving doors, his suit jacket unbuttoned, a nervous look on his face, frantically searching the area he had just entered.

The moment their eyes met, the busy hall vanished, and her feet padded towards him on their own—initially with the cart in tow, but she abandoned the cargo halfway to her destination.

When he noticed her, his urgent strides brought him closer fast, and she had to keep from running into his arms. Because some time after his last text message and before the moment she'd laid eyes on him, her gut instincts and her rational mind had convinced her he was here for her. And if it turned out he wasn't, she would simply have to live with yet another one of his rejections. And by now, the pile was high enough she no longer cared. She had lost him already. She had nothing left to lose.

They stopped a foot apart.

"Hey—"

"Hey—"

"I um," he began, short of breath. He wanted to tell her he had spent a day preparing to file for an annulment, and that Scottie—after throwing several tantrums—had moved all her stuff out. His marriage was over; he'd made space for her in his life, if she would have him. But all he said was, "Scottie's gone."

"I know." She nodded, a fire of nerves burning a way down to her stomach, where it erupted into an inferno of butterflies, as she let go of any remaining reservations that, for so long, had kept her from arriving at this moment with him.

To compose herself, she inhaled and reached for his hands.

Harvey took a step forward, closing the gap between their bodies, his chest heaving.

Feeling her fingers entwine with his own powered a desire he had forcefully contained for as long as he'd known her, and he happily succumbed to the enthralling pull of her body.

Slowly, he lowered his head and met her lips halfway.

The kiss was brief because the need to hold on to the one thing he'd almost lost made him wrap his arms around her, engulfing her in a hug he was afraid to release. He had come so close to los—Close. But not all the way. And he confidently exhaled, once and for all, the culmination of crippling fear that had settled over his soul like a mourning veil.

She returned the embrace with a similar force.

"I'm so sorry, Donna. I never should have married her," he mumbled into her hair.

Withdrawing to meet his gaze, she blinked back tears. "For a minute, I thought I'd lost you there," she muttered.

To see the hurt he'd caused, the grinding pain visible in her tormented eyes, cut him down to his soul. But he would spend the rest of his days making up for everything they had missed. "Don't you know by now you can never lose me?" he said, cupping her cheek with his palm.

She nodded as her heart danced, forcing out a shaky sigh. "I do now." Lifting her chin, she invited him to kiss her again. And he did, deeply this time.

When they eventually parted, Harvey pressed his forehead to hers. He'd made it, just under the wire. But their friends in Seattle were still expecting her arrival later today. Yet, now that he finally had her, he couldn't possibly let her slip through his fingers. Hell, on the ride over, he'd even considered moving to Seattle himself. But New York was their home, their families were all on the east coast, and most importantly—if this was not a dream—if a future for them was a real possibility and they were on the path of creating memories as a couple, New York City was the place he wanted to create them in. So, he muttered, "I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go." Holding on to his lapels, she peered up at him, waiting to see what his next move would be.

Drunk on her taste and overwhelmed by her presence in his arms, Harvey struggled to put thoughts into words. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things she needed to know. But stringing together a sentence when his mental capacity had evaporated like a dewdrop in the sun? Yeah, good luck. So, he gripped her waist, hoping she would understand what he meant when he mumbled, "Donna…"

"I know." She nodded. Perhaps she'd expected an I love you, but she didn't need words to know how he felt. Harvey had always been a man of actions, and this right here was all the effort she had hoped for. "How about you take me home?"

A bright smile, one that reached all the way to his eyes, blossomed over his face. Then he linked their hands together, gathered her belongings, and guided them away from the airport.


EPILOGUE

Mike looked at his phone, the sound emanating from the device never before associated with the caller. "Harvey, are you okay? I didn't even know you knew how to use FaceTime."

"I don't," he replied. "I have some bad news I wanted to share face to face."

"What is it?" Mike said, concern swelling in his chest when he realized the east coast was just nearing the end of the afternoon and Harvey appeared to be at home.

"Donna missed her flight."

Mike frowned, then watched his friend struggle to contain a grin, and immediately informed delight replaced his worry, but he wrestled his features under control. "Don't tell me. You finally got your head out of your ass?"

"He did!" Donna yelled and took the phone from Harvey while snuggling up to him on his sofa. "He even came to the airport. It was very Love Actually of him." She shot Harvey a glance and was met with an eye roll. "But you don't have to worry about filling my position because it turns out that John, who I trained as my replacement here, is open to a relocation and he's agreed to come to Seattle in my stead."

"Well, if you trained him, I'm sure he'll do just fine." Mike smiled, looking at the couple on the screen. "I'm really happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Mike."

"Yeah, thanks, Mike," Harvey added.

Donna ended the call and handed the device back. "What are you so smiley about?"

"Nothing," Harvey said, tossing the phone on the table and climbing on top of his new girlfriend, beaming with joy. "I'm just glad I now get to do this." He lowered his lips to her collarbone, and Donna's fingers curled in his hair as she settled under his weight.

Harvey, ready to go again, paced himself. There was still something he hadn't said, something she needed to hear. So, he propped himself up on his elbows, hovering inches above her. "Hey."

She smiled softly, eyes hooded, lips swollen. "Hey."

"I love you, too."

Donna blinked, her lips spreading wide into a beaming smile she tried to contain but couldn't. "Good."

She relished the feeling of hearing those words fall from his lips as their bodies lay tangled. The road may have been bumpy, but it had been worth the ride, because they were finally together, like they were always meant to be. "Now make love to me. You have twelve years to make up for, mister."


A/N: The idea Harvey was married didn't let me go, so I had to write this. I hope you liked it. Let me know by leaving a review. As always, a huge thank you to Cassie and Nina for being my sounding boards.