Chapter 2: Sacrifice
Donna wears an imprint of her own design into the carpet of the living room as she awaits his return home, pacing up and down, this first tiny spark of hope igniting something in her.
Energy she hadn't felt in over a week bubbling to the surface.
One phone call had given new meaning to her understanding that maybe, everything does happen for a reason, and maybe, just maybe this will be better in the long run.
An old friend from the theatre world had called to check in, having heard word of Donna's suspension. It just so happens that she had an opportunity to offer the redhead, the possibility of a few different roles suited to Donna currently on the market.
She had taken the details of the casting directors without hesitation, feeling a renewed sense of self as she hung up the phone. This could mean the start of something new for her, an original goal left uncomplete, that had always haunted her, finally raising itself as an opportunity once again.
And suddenly, that evening she feels the urge to cook. A low grumble in her stomach and the craving for pasta leading her to the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand and another empty glass laid out awaiting him.
It's approaching seven when she hears the door open and shut, licking the residue of carbonara sauce from her thumb, she turns, leaning back against the counter with an excited smile, and waiting for him to come around the corner.
When he does, his facial expression is gold. A mixture of shock and confusion but soon a smile dawns on his lips as he catches her eye. She expected as much, knowing that even the sight of her out of bed at this time would catch him off guard, never mind smiling, dressed and of all things cooking.
"Hi." She greets.
"Hey," he's not sure where to start, whether to point out the change in attitude or leave it be, he opts for something neutral, innocent, testing the waters "what's all this?"
Donna shrugs, pouring him a glass of red and handing it over silently.
"I have something to tell you." they both chime.
Their synchronized admission catches the other by surprise and they both grin, "You first," she whispers, returning to the cooker and turning down the heat.
"Why don't we sit down to eat first?" he comes up behind her, hands resting on her hips, his breath tickling the back of her neck, "Then we can talk."
It hadn't been his plan to open up to her about the return of his panic attacks, and it wasn't the news he'd been looking forward to sharing, but there was something about the way she looked at him tonight that gave him a surge of confidence.
That, along with the promising phone call he'd received that evening had left him feeling renewed, ready to talk, ready to move forward, with her by his side.
"I wish you'd told me sooner." She grimaces, standing from her seat at the dining table and discarding her napkin on the plate as he finishes his admission, moving around to where he sat, and easing herself down into his lap, a comforting kiss pressed to the corner of his lips, "I'm sorry you had to go through that again."
"It's not your fault," he replies, tucking the loose strands of red hair behind her ear, "but I shouldn't have kept it from you."
"No, you shouldn't," she gently scolds, patting his chest, "You know you're never going to lose me, it doesn't matter if we're not working together. It's not like before, you have me now, in a much more special way than as just a colleague, I'm only a phone call or a cab ride away, always."
Somehow, he'd never thought about it that way and the idea makes him feel sheepish. Always in awe of her ability to shine a light on the simple solutions he can never see, as he stumbled rashly in the dark without her guidance.
"I know that," He smiles softly, already wishing he'd told her sooner, "but I have good news to share as well."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense Specter, what is it?" she prompts.
"A woman named Gwen Striker called me this evening, she previously worked at a firm in California –"
"Rust and Striker?" she asks in disbelief, recalling what she'd heard about the infamous firm, set up and run by two women, and steam rolling the competition in LA.
"Yes, her partner, has chosen to retire early, and Striker is moving to New York to establish a new firm, she called to offer us both a job, you as COO and myself as a named partner." He explains, waiting to gage her reaction."Are you serious?" her jaw drops at the thought, momentarily forgetting the news she'd wished to share with him, the cause of her change of attitude.
"I am, she wants, to quote her, a strong front on her side as she begins this new endeavor and as much as I hate to leave our own firm, I think we should take it." He admits, his voice slightly more solemn, "it could be a fresh start for us, a way to rebuild." The faintest hint of a smile tugging at his cheeks.
She pauses, her phone call with Jane from the casting agency re-entering the forefront of her mind, the opportunity that had reinstated her own happiness, the break through she'd been so ecstatic to tell him about. It all seems secondary to the look on his face, and guilt claws at her stomach as she thinks of what he's been through these past couple of weeks. Although she'd never let the admission slip, Donna had always carried the weight of his panic attacks on her shoulders, the thought of her being his trigger made her feel physically ill with remorse.
It's something she hates about herself, that primal need to always please, to do what she thinks will make others happy. Knowing from experience the feeling of boosting another can leave you on a high for quite some time, though when that fire burns out, she's always the one left feeling hollow.
"So what do you think?" he prompts, slightly unnerved by her silence and the calculating look in her eyes, a look that tells him her wheels are turning.
Donna inhales, face softening with an encouraging smile, he's her number one priority now, their relationship has to come first, and working together is what they know, it's how they function.
Relationships are all about sacrifice.
"I think it sounds perfect." The reply slips before she can give it another thought, and she feels her heart soar at the way his face breaks into a wide grin, although something tugs relentlessly at the back of her mind.
He incases her lips within his and she reciprocates, feeling the reignited passion between them that had grown dim over the last fortnight, and it's enough of a distraction to clear her mind of any doubt.
Harvey pulls away momentarily, cupping her cheek with a warm hand, "I almost forgot, was there something you wanted to tell me?"
The fact that he remembers is so sweet it briefly blindsides her, but his hand slips from her cheek to her shoulder, and then begins a trail down her spine, reminding her of how much she's missed this closeness.
"It can wait, right now," she traces her lips along his jaw, "I'm not interested in doing any more talking."
She doesn't have to say anymore, and it isn't long before they're tumbling into bed, giving it all to each other, as time slips past too quickly.
It's later that evening when they're wrapped up in each other's embrace, her head resting on his chest as she pulls the sheets closer, feeling the steady tempo of his breathing as he dozes off into a well need sleep.
And suddenly her mind begins to wander.
It's not lying, it's just not telling.
She cringes internally at herself, the sentiment sounding like something her father would say. Why is it that she can push others to be their best, teach them to communicate, overcome their issues, yet she's left wrestling with her own. Beginning to wonder if she'll ever learn to take her own advice.
She should have told him.
That's the bottom line and deep down she knows he'd be happy for her. That he'd support her no matter what.
It's in her nature to make other happy, bend to their needs and do what's best for them.
And maybe subconsciously she's not ready to let go, although she yearns for that change she fears it all the same. Clinging to the familiarity that is working with him, not wanting to break that rhythm.
Relationships are all about sacrifice.
Donna replays the words in her head like a mantra as she eases off to sleep.
Relationships are all about sacrifice.
And all of a sudden she's feeling like the martyr, by her own hands.
XXX
A/N: I want to thank you all for the warm welcome this story has received! I'm trying to delve a little more into the mind of Donna Paulsen, seeing as I personally don't think we see enough of her inner-goings on in the show. So I hope I've done an ok job at portraying that truthfully!
These first two chapters are really just setting the scene, the drama will pick up slightly in the coming installments so sit tight ..
In response to an error with some dialogue being stuck together, it's not done purposely and I've tried to fix the formatting error this time around so hopefully it doesn't get mess up when it's posted!
As always much love and I'll see you with another chapter shortly xx