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"Mister Specter?" When a nurse calls out his name, his head shoots up and within a second, he's in front of her. "Your wife is getting installed in a room. I'll take you to see her." She smiles and him and he nods before following her down a long hallway. It takes another three hallways before she opens a door for him – letting him step into a private room. As soon as Harvey sets foot in the door, his eyes immediately find Donna's. He gives her a once over; she's lying on her side, resting against a mountain of pillows. He notices the hospital gown she's wearing and iv in her hand that wasn't there before. His observations only take a second, and without wasting anymore time he closes the distance between them, planting a soft kiss on her temple before lowering himself in the chair next to her bed. "How are you?" He asks, taking her right hand – the one without the iv – in both of his. "The same as fifteen minutes ago." She tells him, a weak smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
Harvey softly strokes his thumb over Donna's knuckles. She's facing him, her legs curled up a little. It reminds Harvey of the way she was sleeping this morning. A memory that seems so distant right now. "I assume all this," he uses one hand to gesture to the iv and the hospital gown that she's now wearing, "means you'll definitely have to stay overnight." Donna casts a glance down at the washed out blue of the gown she had to wear, "well, it's certainly not my choice to wear this. It's not really my color." She mumbles. He weakly smiles at her, "every color is your color," he tells her, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand, "did they say anything about what's gonna happen?"
Donna gives Harvey's hand a soft squeeze. "We have to wait for the scans to come back, but they suspect an infection, so they already started antibiotics." She tries to remember what else the doctor told her, but her brain is tired. Her eyes flutter closed; not only her brain is tired, but her whole body is tired, exhausted even. "Why don't you try and sleep a little," he suggests. She forces her eyes open, looking at him. Concern is still clouding his face, but he attempts a smile for her, "I'll stay here and I'll wake you when anything happens. Just close your eyes, you look like you need it." She relaxes her body as much as she can and lets her eyes fall closed. After a while, she curls her legs a little bit more into her body, it eases the pain slightly. She's still far from comfortable but combined with knowing that Harvey is by her side, it's enough to allow her to drift into a light slumber.
Harvey continues stroking over the soft skin of Donna's hand, even when her breathing has slowed down and he's sure she has fallen asleep. Experience taught him that if he stops the constant motion now, it'll wake her up again. He looks at her face. Finally, her features are a little relaxed, it's a lot better than the tight lines that he's been seeing for the last hours, but she's still scarily pale and doesn't really look like herself. He bows his head, his own emotions hitting him hard now that his worries for her can subside slightly. It's a mess in his head, but one thing he knows is that he's so angry with himself. He's angry – maybe even furious – for two reasons; he didn't see what was going on with his own wife and, to top it all off, he somehow gave her the feeling that she would be burdening him if she told him she wasn't feeling well. He thought they had made progress in communicating, but apparently they still have a long way to go.
A door slamming closed in the hallway, just a few minutes later, makes Harvey's head shoot up, and when he looks at Donna, he sees her eyes opening. "It's nothing," he reassures her, "you can go back to sleep." She blinks tiredly, a look in her eyes that Harvey doesn't fully recognize. "It's okay," he softly says, but his words seem to have an opposite effect as her eyes start getting glossy with tears.
"Donna…" Harvey gets up from the chair and perches himself on the edge of the bed. It's his need to be closer, to use physical comfort because words don't always come to him. Donna looks at him and feels his hands squeezing hers a little tighter. She doesn't trust her voice at this time and truthfully she isn't sure she's able to articulate her thoughts. She's so overwhelmed. She feels Harvey moving a little closer, his thigh now resting against her legs. She rolls on her back so she's able to look at him without having to strain her neck. "Hey," he softly says again, "what's wrong?" His words only make the lump in her throat bigger; the way he's been by her side ever since she collapsed in his office, despite their fight earlier today, overwhelms her. And it makes her feel guilty for the harsh words she spoke to him today and the way she rejected his concern over the last few days.
Donna eventually chokes out. She lowers her gaze and then squeezes her eyes shut, trying to prevent tears from spilling on her cheeks. She feels Harvey letting one of his hands release hers, and then she feels that same hand against her face. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek, "Donna… Look at me." She can't resist when his voice is so soft and careful. Her eyes find his, "I'm sorry, Harvey," she repeats. He shakes his head a little, "what are you sorry for?" He asks. She searches his eyes and face for clues that he's trying to pretend he doesn't now, as not to upset her, but he seems genuinely surprised by her apology.
Donna's teary eyes break Harvey's heart a little. It's not that he's never seen her cry – on the contrary, she's always so in touch with her emotions that he's seen her in tears on multiple occasions – but this moment, apologizing for something he's quite sure he doesn't care about now she's in this state, breaks his heart a little. He stays quiet, giving her time to elaborate. "I-I," she sighs softly, "I shouldn't have treated you the way I did in the past few days…" She bites down on her bottom lip, tears now rolling down her cheeks.
"Don't apologize," Harvey's voice is soft but firm, "you were feeling terrible, it's a goddamn miracle you were still up and about. I don't blame you for being a little irritable." He knows he's downplaying it now, considering he was quite furious at her after their fight, "I'm not mad at you, Donna," he continues, and that is the truth. With his thumb he tries to wipe away the tears on her cheeks, "I just wish you would have talked to me…" He admits. She leans back against the pillows, a tired smile creeping up on her tear-streaked face, "we're still pretty bad at the whole feelings thing, aren't we?" She concludes. He nods lightly, "I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me without burdening me." He now feels tears burn behind his own eyes.
Donna scoots over to the left – having temporarily forgotten how much moving hurts. A small groan escapes her, but she ignores the pain and pats on the space that she made on her right side. Harvey looks at her with increased worry in her eyes, but she grabs his wrist and tugs him towards her. He hesitates a little, but another soft tug makes him squeeze into the space next to her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and immediately feels her melting into him. He presses a kiss in her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head as she wraps one arm around his waist. They stay that close together, bodies entangled in a hug as tight as possible considering the situation.
"Let's make a promise," Donna muses after a little while. Harvey reluctantly pulls back a little to look at her. She lifts her head from his shoulder, and they look at each other. "What promise?" He asks, eyes narrowed a little. She rests her head back on his shoulder, her need to be close to him bigger than her need to look him in the eye, "to trust each other. And to be honest with each other." She elaborates. He runs his fingers over her arm, "even if it isn't easy. Always." He adds. She turns her head a little, pressing a kiss to his neck, "always." She agrees.
Donna stays like that for a while, her head nuzzled into Harvey's neck. He tightens his grip around her a little and leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Is this okay?" He asks, "I don't want to hurt you." He's holding her tight and he does not want to let her go, but he wants to hurt her even less. She waves around with her left hand, making the iv-bag rattle against the pole, "I'm on a nice dose of painkillers." He smiles faintly, brushing his lips against her forehead again, "good. I hate seeing you in pain." His words touch her, and she rests the palm of her hand against his chest so she can feel the beating of his heart under her fingers. They've been married for almost a year now, but more often than not his soft and concerned side still takes her by surprise. It's so unlike the Harvey she's seen for fifteen years that it still takes a little readjusting to this Harvey. And maybe that's the reason that she didn't talk to him for days, which seems a little ridiculous now that he's cuddled so close to her.
Before Donna can really get into her feelings, a soft knock on the door captures her attention. Doctor Johnson walks in again, this time followed by an older man, wearing scrubs – in a very unflattering shade of green, Donna thinks. Harvey sits a little straighter up and she reluctantly follows his lead. She feels the tension in his body, and it makes her a little nervous too. "Sorry it took so long, Mrs. Paulsen-Specter," Johnson apologizes, "but I wanted to consult with doctor Nix before coming to see you." Donna feels her heart speeding up a little, noticing the grave tone in his voice and the serious look on his young face. She reaches for Harvey's hand, lacing her fingers in between his.
Everything that happens after that passes in a big blur. Donna vaguely remembers medical terms being thrown around and Harvey asking questions to verify. She can't follow any of it, her brain is too slow to process the information. The results of the scans are discussed but all she really notices is the tension in the room; Johnsons slightly nervous glances, the way Harvey unconsciously digs his fingers in her shoulder, Nix standing at the foot of her bed with his arms crossed and a stern, professional expression on his face. Only when Nix rests his hands on the footboard of her bed and leans forward, looking directly at her, she is able to focus her attention again. "We want to take you to surgery now." He says, which should've come as a shock after not hearing anything they told her, but it doesn't because she felt it. She picked up on the tension and knew it was bad.