Note: This little ficlet wouldn't leave me. Inspired by Juliana (Spicas), and chapter 11 of Unintended where Harvey has already set up the car seat (which absolutely killed me, because protective dad Harvey is everything). Let me know what you think :)
The day that both Donna and baby are cleared to go home is filled with excitement and adrenaline, all of the jittery nerves that only new parents can have.
They've had the car seat ready to go for months, way before the bundle in Donna's arms was even the size of a baseball. The doctor helps them buckle her in, explaining the nuances of how to position her, how to check that the straps have locked, and they listen attentively. Harvey's hand never leaves their daughter's smaller one.
Now, Donna stands outside their SUV for at least two minutes while she waits for Harvey to deem the contraption secure for the fifteen-minute drive home.
He finally moves to the side and Donna climbs in the back seat. She smoothes her daughter's peach fuzz with her thumb, smiles as she watches the delicate lashes flutter under her touch.
Harvey leans back in and tugs on the buckle holding their girl in place, making sure it's tight. Then he frowns, backtracking and making sure it's not too tight. His eyes rake over every inch of the car seat and the baby attached until he's confident there are no unexpected variables. Satisfied, he playfully wiggles one little socked foot before gently closing the door.
Once he's behind the wheel he turns around to look back on his girls. He and Donna share a quiet smile before he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
And doesn't speed up.
After spending the first two minutes of the trip lost in thought, stroking her daughter's tiny fist, Donna's musings are interrupted by a loud honk from behind and she jolts in a panic.
It's then that she realizes the cars to their left are whizzing past them.
She glances at the speedometer over her husband's shoulder - thirty miles an hour.
On the freeway .
"Harvey," she says, amusement lacing her voice.
He doesn't hear her, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.
Donna reaches forward and covers his hand in hers. He jumps.
"Jesus!"
"Harvey," she tries again, trying very hard not to laugh. "I think it's okay if you go the speed limit."
He glances for the hundredth time in the rear view mirror, anxiety running off him in waves. The precious bundle in the back is still sleeping soundly, Donna's other hand lovingly holding her in place.
"Have you seen how tiny she is?" he mumbles, as another car passes them in a fury.
"I know," she replies calmly, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. "But she's going to wake up if people keep honking at you."
He's still tense, so she drops her voice even lower and murmurs, "she's fine, Harvey, she's safe. I promise you."
She feels him exhale under her palm as the speedometer climbs higher. Harvey's eyes move repeatedly from the mirror to the road, needing the reassurance that she's okay.
And Donna is worried, too, of course she is — their little girl, sweetly dozing and relying on them to protect her.
But she trusts Harvey with her life, and now with their daughter's.
Because if there is anyone she has faith in, it's him.