A/N: I barely write, but the idea came up to me when I saw a viral tweet by exxtracelestial that said "The most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me is "the noise in my head is slowly being replaced by the sound of you saying you love me" and I couldn't let it go. I hope you guys like it :)
Special thanks to the wonderful Elle (mieh) for looking over this!

It'd been a while since he had one of those. The last time he had a panic attack they were living in New York and he was still seeing Dr. Lipschitz – and still being prescribed meds to control it. It was a brief one, he remembers, and Donna hadn't even known about it which made him feel bad for not telling her but it was such a stressful time for both of them, he didn't want her worrying more than usual.

Now, although he is seeing a new therapist, he's been so long without panic attacks she didn't feel the need to prescribe new pills for a crisis. Until now and if he's honest, he should've expected it.

They'd just gotten back from an evening at the hospital. Donna had a fever since early in the afternoon, which they had chalked it up to the beginning of the flu The plan was to keep an eye on it and if it kept getting worse, to get her to the hospital the next morning. It did get worse, but what really caused their anxiety to spike was Donna noticing spotting in her underwear – which she thought it could be heavy bleeding, and considering they had read recently that bleeding can lead to miscarriage, he couldn't really blame them for the assumption. They were first–time parents, after all.

Turns out it was the first signs of the flu, to which the ER doctor just prescribed Tylenol for the fever, rest and lots of fluids. The spotting was a usual occurrence in pregnant women in the first trimester. The baby was fine, and Donna would be alright once they treated the fever. Nothing to keep worrying.

It's nearly midnight when they step into the threshold of their townhome, the only sound being the exhausted sigh coming from Donna as she throws her purse on the first surface she spots. He does the same with his keys, wallet, and phone, all the while staring at her, following her movements. She's okay, half of his brain supplies. She might not have been, the other half replies. It feels like hours before her voice cuts through his internal dialogue.

"Harvey? You there?" She's near the kitchen counter, a glass of water in her hands and a frown on her tired face, but there's an amused lilt in her voice.

"Yeah," his voice sounds weird in his ears and he coughs, still barely managing to take his eyes off her. "I'm gonna… gonna take a shower." He doesn't wait for her to react before fleeing the room. He feels it coming a mile away and he hopes she takes her time in the kitchen because he doesn't want her to see him like this, now, of all times.

And with each step he takes towards the bathroom, his vision blurs and the second half of his brain begin to form thoughts and images –

Donna's fever so high she had seizures –

He's dizzy, his legs suddenly can't work and he feels his back hitting a wall, sinking on the floor –

The doctor telling them she had a miscarriage and their baby was dead –

He tries to suck in air but his lungs can't work and he keeps trying but he can't breathe –

Donna bleeding to death –

He squeezes his eye shut, tries to focus on the world outside, the distant traffic noises, Donna right outside in their kitchen, breathing, living, fine but the flatlining is all he can hear and he's still trying to breathe but his lungs just won't work and he's shaking, she's dead, they're dead –

Through all the noise in his brain, he hears his name. It's faint but it's there and it sounds like Donna but how can it sound like her when she's… He hears it again and he blinks slowly and he can still hear her talking.

"Harvey. Listen to me– She's fine. I'm fine. We're alright. I love you. Please, babe, breathe."

His vision becomes clearer and he can make out the white tiles in their bathroom, the bathtub, their towels. His wife crouched down in front of him, worry covering her features. He stares at her lips to keep making out what's she's saying.

"Harvey. You're home, you're okay. We're here." She takes his hands and puts them on her chest. "Come on, breathe with me," she takes a deep breath, holds it and exhales and he tries to follow. He shudders and gasps instead and he shakes his head, but she keeps going, her voice sure and strong.

"It's fine, don't worry. We can try again," she repeats and he concentrates on her heartbeat under his hands, her words. She inhales, holds it and exhales again, and this time he follows.

"Yes, Harvey, that's it. I'm so proud, I love you. You're okay, I'm okay, she's okay. We love you."

"Donna," her name is rough on his throat, but he's so glad to get it out. Everything isn't so blurry anymore and the dizziness in his head clears. She keeps breathing calmly, counting to ten slowly and he goes along with her rhythm. "Donna." He tries again, his voice stronger.

"Yes, babe. I'm here. Feeling better?"

He nods and pulls her gently by the hands she's still holding and she goes willingly, sitting down next to him. Harvey wraps his left arm around her and places a kiss on her head, breathing deeply. She'd washed her hair that morning. It still smelled of vanilla.

"How long have you been having them?" Her voice is quiet, small. Almost as if she's afraid to ask.

He shakes his head, "First time in a very long while." He gives her another kiss. "There hasn't been any reasons for them. Life's good. Dr. Marshall says I'm doing well."

"I'm glad, but Harvey–"

He interrupts her. "I'm sorry for the scare– you're already not feeling well… Tomorrow, first thing I'm gonna call Dr. Marshall, see if she can fit me in her schedule, instead of waiting for my next appointment. Ask her if she can get me something for the attacks, in case they happen again." Which they will, he thinks but doesn't want to say – though he has a feeling she thinks the same.

"Okay. Good." Her voice is shaky though he can hear the relief in it.

He squeezes her, brings her closer to him still.

"Hey, Donna?"

"Hmm?"

"You can't die before me, okay?"

"Harvey, I'm fine."

"No, I know. But," he squeezes her again. "Just the thought of you being in danger… I can't do it. I can't be here without you. I'm going first."

She turns to look at him fully and opens her mouth to speak but closes it immediately. He senses she wants to ask more, but maybe now's not the time. Maybe when they're both not feeling on edge. "Okay, you're going first."

They stay in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. It's when Donna groans, trying to find a better position that they remember they're still on the bathroom floor.

"Come on," he gets up and helps her getting up afterwards. All he wants right now is to cuddle with his wife and sleep, thoughts of showers long forgotten. As he thinks on the last moments, he remembers something she said before and he's surprised of all things that's what sticks in his mind.

Hands still joined, Donna moves to leave the bathroom and he pulls her back to him, making her stop. "Wait, Donna. Did you say she's fine? Do you know something I don't?"

Her eyes widen and she smiles, keeps walking to the bedroom, rearranging the bed covers so they can slip under.

"Well, I do always know something you don't. Except in this case," she makes a face. "I know as much as you do, honey. That was just a feeling."

He chuckles. "Of course it is," as he fixes himself with her back to his front, hugging her tightly and hoping sleep won't take too long to come.