Chapter 4:
Harvey wakes to the sound of his alarm drilling through the bedroom, the noise an unwelcome intrusion, but he forces himself to reach for it, aware he only has a few more seconds before Donna sluggishly groans a protest. His wife, for all her remarkable qualities, is not a morning person. He'd learned that particular fact about a week into their relationship, when his attempts to rouse her each time had been met with doe-eyed confusion and a groggy smile. Usually, he's the opposite. He wakes at the first beep of his alarm, and silences it quickly, so he can get up, make a coffee, go to the gym or even crawl back into bed, all without disturbing her.
Yesterday, however, his impromptu trip to Portland had seen him fall into bed exhausted. Goulding's parents hadn't had any proof, only speculation that their son had been the victim of foul play, but the grieving couple was desperate for answers and had begged for help.
He'd let Mike field their anguish while he'd trawled through boxes of Michael's belongings, hoping to locate a clue or something that might connect the man's accident to their suit against ASYNCS. Frustratingly, all he'd found in the unorganized files were personal documents that made no mention of Michael having ever worked for the giant tech corporation. The lack of information pertaining to anything after Goulding's move to Chicago sounded alarm bells, and while it was feasible the paperwork had been lost in transit, he hadn't felt comfortable banking with those odds.
He'd let his determination out under the guise of compassion, promising the older couple he'd do more once back in Seattle, but the drive had been delayed by an accident on the highway. By the time they'd reached the outskirts of the city, it was well after midnight, and Mike had been adamant that they go home, get some rest, and tackle the case with a clear head in the morning.
He'd crept into the darkened apartment, finding Donna fast asleep in their bedroom, her arm resting across his pillow as if in search of his presence, and he'd stood transfixed, watching her in the dim light. After spending the day rifling through a dead man's possession, he'd been hit by how lucky he is, and how stupid he'd been, letting his insecurities take root and blaming them on jealousy.
After exhaling his regret, he'd been flooded by the urge to hold her and had quickly changed, slipping in under the covers. She'd instinctively burrowed closer, still out to the world as his arms had encased her body, and the memory stirs his desire to feel her again now, his hand reaching out to find nothing but a vast empty space. He can easily count the number of times she's woken up first, and something tightens in his chest, a small wave of panic circling at the still silence surrounding him. The shower isn't running, there's no movement anywhere his ears can detect, and he sits up, catching a flash of something yellow—a post-it note with her neatly scrawled handwriting stuck to her pillow.
First day of rehearsals. Didn't want to wake you. Dinner later? Xx
He swipes his palm across his face, recalling she'd mentioned something about starting earlier once the casting calls for the production were finalised. She'd teased him with the mention of more time together in the evenings, but that was before he'd taken on the case against ASYNCS. Between her preparation for the launch party, the affair itself, and his own dive into the deep end at Capstone Law, he hadn't found a moment to fill her in on the case or the probability of having to work more hours. But the thought of missing her again fills him with a sense of weighted dread. He doesn't want their marriage to become the equivalent of two ships passing in the night, drifting further and further away from each other. He'd spent years afraid of letting her get close and is terrified to lose her. Now they're committed to forever, he isn't going to let that promise slip through their fingers because of complacency.
Back when an ethics board had tried his behavior, he'd discovered that being a lawyer is an empty achievement without someone to share the highs and lows with. Setting aside a few hours of work to be with his wife isn't a sacrifice—it's where he wants to be, and he grabs his phone off the bedside table, composing a text to wish her good luck, adding that he's looking forward to hearing about the rehearsal over dinner.
Despite how his actions may have come across, he is genuinely happy for her. He just has to reconcile the fact that her job no longer revolves around his and make peace with the reality that theatre boats over corporate law. The industries might be worlds apart, but Donna's managed to live her life with the two entwined.
He can learn to do the same.
...
...
Nerves flutter through Donna's stomach as she winds through a maze of glass panels, locating Capstone Law's futuristic intercom system. The tech is nothing like where she works. The theatre they'd booked was constructed back in the forties, the door bolted at night with a heavy old-fashioned bar, and the rustic charm is the complete opposite of the progressive, automated security at Capstone Law. She'd teased Harvey about remembering his pass code, pointing out he struggled with his phone number, but he'd just smirked, calling Mike's smart watch from the display panel to let them in. She'd been suitably impressed when the younger lawyer's face had appeared on the screen, rolling his eyes, and telling Harvey to learn his goddamn pin. Mike had entrusted her with the digits on the condition she'd get Harvey to use them, and she raises her hand, dancing her fingers across the keypad to let herself in.
She bypasses the center stairwell in favour of the lifts, too tired to climb up after having been on her feet all day, and she pulls out her phone, checking the time and re-reading Harvey's text with a smile.
Meet me at the firm? Have a surprise x
Her rehearsals had wrapped up at four, and he'd messaged straight after, leaving her curious about his plans. Even though she'd vehemently protested waking up at some ungodly hour, her new schedule will give her more time to see her husband, and keep them connected. It seems like forever since she's sat in an office with him, engaging her legal mind and pouring over a case. Another first in Seattle to look forward to, and she finds her nerves fading as she watches the ground disappear through the glass floor of the elevator, the translucent box taking her up to find Harvey.
After spending two days missing him, her unease over the other night has ebbed away as well. They still need to talk about what happened, but she'll be happy just to see him, having spent most of the morning shrouded by a cloud of regret. She should have woken him, at least to say goodbye, but with his lure of a surprise and the rest of the evening ahead of them, she's determined to make up for the mistake.
Arriving at the correct floor, she steps out, orientating herself towards Harvey's office. She's visited him here before, in-between searching for jobs and house hunting, and knows her way around, along with enough names and faces to elevate her status from a client or visitor to Harvey's wife. The label giving her the authority to go where she pleases is still surreal. If she were working beside him, the association would be a different story, but while she's floated the idea of returning to law after Rockabye Hamlet finishes it's run, the more time that passes, the harder it is to envision herself integrating at the firm on her own merits.
At Pearson Hardman, she and Harvey worked their way up the ladder together.
In a few months, Harvey will have already established himself at Capstone Law. And althought she couldn't be prouder of him for excelling at the new challenge, she isn't sure following him would be the right decision. Spending their days together again, bouncing ideas, keeping him out of trouble—they're all moments she misses, a lot. She just doesn't know if those reasons are enough incentive to give up the career she's always dreamed of having.
The situation is a difficult one, but deep down she knows, whichever direction she decides to go in, she has to follow her heart. Her instincts have rarely led her astray in the past, and even if they did, they brought her here. To Seattle, her friends, and the man she loves—whom she quickly discovers is absent from his office.
With no sign of Mike or Rachel either, she drops her handbag on the couch, peeling out of her coat, assuming Harvey is somewhere close by. Rather than slip off her heels and deflate on his three-seater, she casts her gaze around the room which is half the size of his old office in New York. There are no records adorning the walls. His collection is nestled safely in their study at home. More than once the sound of slow jazz has welcomed her inside, and a smile catches her lips as she moves around. The same photo she has on her desk is propped up on his bookcase, along with a picture of Lily, one of Gordon, and the last snap is of Louis, all teeth, holding Lucy up to the camera. Her grin widens, smothering the small pang that twinges inside her chest. The baby she'd held in her arms was crawling the last time she'd called Louis, on her way to walking, and she wishes the distance between them wasn't so far—toying with the idea that maybe her career isn't the only possible path to follow.
The thought takes her by surprise, the topic of babies something she and Harvey haven't even discussed yet, and she turns away from the shelf, deciding to leave that particular analysis for another night. Instead, her eyes trail to a yellow square stuck in the center of his desk, and she approaches the post-it, reading the note scrawled for her to find.
Meet me on the roof.
Her lips twist with a curious quirk. Leaving puzzle pieces is unlike Harvey but not unheard of. Not long into their relationship, he'd surprised her with dinner, and when they'd returned home to his condo, candles and scattered rose petals had adorned every square inch of his apartment. 'Not long' had actually been six months, and she'd turned to him with wide-eyes, his amused, proud smirk making her blush from head to toe and leaving her speechless.
Harvey Specter doesn't do grand, romantic gestures.
But when he does, he gets them right.
She braces herself, a little flustered as she smooths down her dress, leaving the office to find someone who can direct her to where he's waiting. An associate points her in the right direction, and a giddy nervousness rushes through her, the feeling more pleasant than the butterflies she'd walked in with. Over a decade in Harvey's life and there are still moments her heart skips like a teenager with a crush, but she shakes the adrenaline from her fingers, entering his code into the panel that will give her access to the roof. The door clicks open and she pulls it back, hit by a wave of air that tunnels down from the level above. She shivers, realizing her coat is still on Harvey's couch but impatience implores her to leave it.
She can withstand a little cold weather.
So long as her husband is there to keep her warm.
...
...
"It was a goddamn waste of time, Mike, and you know it." Harvey steps out of the elevator, angry at himself for having let ASYNCS lawyer, Rebecca Blaine, lead them around in circles for over an hour. She'd contacted them about reaching a settlement, and he'd agreed to take the meeting, but it had become blatantly clear she'd had no intention of giving a damn inch. He'd thought bringing up Goulding's name would at least stir a reaction, but all the reference did was make the woman more loose with her alcohol consumption—something that had eventually prompted him to go along with charade, hoping she'd let something slip.
Play the woman, not the odds, he'd reminded Mike when she'd excused herself to use the bathroom.
But Blaine hadn't cracked.
Her motives became more clouded with every vodka martini until she'd abruptly called an end to the evening and left them to pick up the tab. All evening she'd sat there and baited them, for no apparent reason, but he knows there has to be one, he just can't goddamn see it.
Angry steps drive his feet to the window and he slams his palms down, venting his frustration at the Seattle skyline. It's not New York, but the unseasonal snowfall is a reminder of his former home, and he breathes out slowly, straightening to unbutton his heavy coat and relieve himself of the burden.
Mike doesn't mimic the action, staying only long enough to convince Harvey that they aren't circling a deadline or chasing away competition. Toby approached them to stop a corporate giant from taking advantage of their power, not to add zeros to a payout. They have time to dive deeper into the truth and there's no reason they have to stretch their resources tonight. Harvey is too riled up, and he wants to check in on Rachel. She'd been feeling under the weather this morning and had worked from their home-office, worried she might be coming down with a cold. He'd promised to pick up some soup for dinner, and he checks his watch, wondering how to talk his friend down, when he catches sight of Donna's belongings spread out across the corner couch.
His gaze skips back across Harvey's desk, spying the post-it note on the otherwise pristine surface, and his mouth twitches with relief—silently thanking Donna for somehow always being in the right place at the right time. "Here... This should put you in a better mood."
Harvey doubts it, and reluctantly turns, skimming the note.
Meet me on the roof.
He follows Mike's nod to where Donna's things are, before narrowing his eyes at the rushed scribble that looks more like his chicken scratch than her elegant loops. The discrepancy seems odd, but the note is obviously from her, and he relaxes, a smile ghosting his lips as he breathes in the air of mystery surrounding the surprise. She's always been better at catching him off guard with gestures. Except for the one time she'd failed to realize it was their anniversary—something he still teases her about—and he steals the paper from his best friend, forcing himself to let go of the raging desire to dig them out of a dead-end before morning. Clearing his head, seeing Donna, is exactly what he needs, even though he still schools his features for the sake of appearances. "We're back on this first thing tomorrow."
"That mean you're going to start on time for once?" Mike shoots up an eyebrow, teasing the man, but really he's glad Harvey is discovering what it means to have a work/life balance. Everyone at Capstone Law puts in the hours. They all work weekends, pull all nighters when cases come down to the wire, but it's nothing like the drama and stress that followed him around for years after his first day at Pearson Hardman. There are no cons, former partner's with vendetta's or multi-billionaire businessmen with zero morality playing them off against each other. The cases are their priority here, and he's never been happier. With a little more time, he's certain Harvey will adjust to feel the same. "I'll see you in the morning... first thing."
He smirks and Harvey shakes his head, sticking the adhesive back down on his desk, and pulling his coat back on.
Mike heads toward his office, no doubt to get his laptop, and Harvey heads the opposite way, towards the stairwell, punching in the code he'd sent himself a hundred times via text to imprint in his memory. He doesn't see why the building can't have a regular reception down at the entrance like everywhere else—security or something, Mike had claimed—but he also doesn't need a tacky watch or piece of tech to get him in and out.
The sequence of numbers turns the panel green, and he ascends up the stairs, finding a regular, old-fashioned maintenance door at the top.
He pushes down on the handle, confused when the metal jars in place, and he frowns at the mechanism keeping it from opening.
There's no possible way Donna could have locked it from the outside unless she'd had a key, and a sense of unease twists in his stomach as he flicks the latch up.
Something isn't right.
He can feel the notion stirring his gut, making him queasy.
Nothing in the past few hours has made any sense. ASYNCS leading with a settlement, Blaine's scattered behavior, Donna showing up unannounced… He wouldn't usually call himself paranoid but the hairs on his neck prickle with uncertainty as he forces open the door—the revealed unknown making his heart lunge into his chest.
.
AN: Who needs a resolution when there can be more angst, right? XD Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and support! And as always, thank you to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for dedicating her time and skill :) And to Beth (NAhavenbb) for giving me so many wonderful ideas that are shaping this story Xx.