Well, this chapter took longer than expected, but I had very busy days. Plus, I wanted to build the dialogue between Donna and Stephen super carefully, because it's a very important step. The part where I talk about the school moms and recreate the H.O.R.S.E game totally came to me unexpectedly, but I'm glad I wrote them.
I want to hear from you and as usual, enjoy!
G-
Four days had gone by and from Stephen not a word. Donna doesn't even know how he is supposed to contact her, but still, she can't shake off that feeling; that feeling on her neck, hovering and inevitable. Despite Harvey's positivism, Donna worries. He tells her she's being paranoid, but she knows better. She's Donna after all. And she doesn't get that feeling very often. It's like the quiet before the storm: you can't lower your guard, because, right when you don't expect it, the wind starts blowing. And she's afraid it might blow everything away.
She usually wakes up in the middle of the night, Stephen's figure haunting her dreams - turned into nightmares. Harvey hasn't noticed this unpleasant routine yet, being knocked down by the intense hours of work. He's already fast asleep, when she cautiously climbs out of the bed and stays up for a period of time between the two and the five a.m.
Her eyelids feel heavier than normal, making it almost impossible for her to keep them up. She blinks twice, rubs her eyes, and snaps them open widely in a futile attempt to keep them from falling shut again. She groans and decides to go for the third cup of coffee of the day - and it's not even eight in the morning. Bringing her hand to her forehead and waiting for a few seconds, she hears the bip of the microwave and pulls the steamy mug out of it. The warmth provides comfort to her tired body and she wishes she could just get back to bed and shut her mind off. But when she closes her eyes all she can see is his face. And she'd rather not see it ever again.
The woman finishes the beverage, checks Penelope in her room and slides under the covers next to Harvey. One minute goes by, then two, three, four... eleven. That's when the alarm starts ringing, and she's glad because she was already becoming restless. Harvey lets out a yawn and rolls on his back, turning to face her. The movement pulls down his green shirt and it gets stuck under him, showing his toned chest. This - and the triple dose of caffeine kicking in- suddenly makes her feel less tired, and the desire for her husband grows fast. But then she remembers the little one currently sleeping next door, and knows that long gone are the days they could have their morning rendezvous.
She often wonders if it would have been better to be just the two of them at the beginning of their relationship. A baby before they even got together was certainly something they hadn't planned. But life, or destiny, or whatever that was, threw them this sort of challenge and they had taken it. It wasn't like they were strangers. They had already known each other for about a decade, and they had always been a team. The one understands, completes, helps and encourages the other, professionally and personally. They just work, they always have.
"Good morning." He greets her hoarsely, sliding a hand on her waist and squeezing it gently. All this surely doesn't help to subdue her arousal.
"Good morning." She mirrors, pressing a kiss on his lips and cupping his cheek. The free hand goes on his chest - keeping him at distance.
"Don't" she warns.
"You're the one who kissed me." He justifies, but moves his hand further down. She smirks at his behavior.
"You're the one who is reaching my ass." She arches her brow, as he lets out a throaty chuckle at her repartee. "We don't have time." She reminds him.
"Don't I know it." He says defeated, rolling onto the other side and climbing out of the bed. "I'm going to wake up the kiddo, want to start making breakfast?" He asks stretching his back.
"I think it's better the other way around, old man." She whispers the last part, getting up as well. Since Harvey got his eyes checked and turned out to be as blind as a bat, Donna has begun joking about his aging. And if Mike with his prostate lines wasn't enough, now he has her pushing on the fact that he has to wear glasses. Though he doesn't at work. Never at work. Or he will be hearing from Louis too, and that would be even worse.
"You and I are the same age!" He shouts without turning back and heading to his daughter's room.
Donna shakes her head, but that causes the entire room to spin, making her land on the mattress once again. Too much caffeine, very little hours of sleep. She doesn't want to take anything, meds are for the weak. Or so she tells herself to not reach for the first oppiate in the cabinet.
.
.
Maybe Donna is just like all the other moms, yet, she finds them royally annoying. It's incredibly hard not to rip their heads off, when all these wealthy ladies can do is gossip and being fake. She doesn't want to tar everyone with the same brush, in fact it's more like two: the desperate housewives and the hysterical business women. She hates them all. Plus, one of them has seemed very interested in flirting with Harvey during the PTA meeting. Of course, he shows up once, being charming and friendly, and makes women fall at his feet. This alone is probably the reason why she's been showing off her wedding ring a lot more lately.
Susan, or Sally, she wants to say, has been the biggest pain in the ass so far. Always complaining about the lack of interest and effort Penelope's mother puts in school activities. And if Donna doesn't even bother to learn her name, it's easy to figure that she doesn't listen to her complaints. But today the s-girl has called her nonstop, wanting to discuss the organization of the bake sale. At her request of bringing five baskets of home made cookies, Donna was ready to pass it off. But that bitch suggested they could meet and cook together, probably to make sure she'd handle that herself. And after using all the excuses in world to ditch her the past ten times, she couldn't say anything other than yes.
That's why she walks towards her doorway a lot earlier that usual, and finds an unpleasant surprise waiting for her.
She seeks her keys at the bottom of the purse, throwing aside all the other items. She moves a tuft of hair out of the way and looks up to unlock the door. Unawares, her gaze is met with no less than Stephen. He's sitting on the stairs, right where Mike stood years ago, when he came to apologize for the outcome of the Costal Motors' mock trial.
Donna considers avoiding him, turning around and walking away; but where is she exactly supposed to go when he's blocking her entrance and that s-woman is planning to arrive in about thirty minutes? Damn it Susan ( or Sally). You and your stupid cookies. Because apparently that's how you show you care. Giving dental caries to the kids.
Huntley notices her presence and immediately stands up, smoothing down his dress shirt. The short sleeves, lack of suit jacket and jeans are certainly a look she's never witnessed to. She has even seen him without clothes at all, but these kind of casual outfits are definitely a first.
He raises his hand acknowledging her and starts walking slowly towards her. That's it, no turning back.
Here's the storm, and she saw it coming.
She takes a few forced steps ahead and meets him in the middle.
"I wasn't sure you still lived here." He motions at the building behind him.
When Donna was halfway through the pregnancy, she and Harvey had to decide which place they were going to live in. They didn't deem it appropriate to go house-hunting then, needing time to choose the right one. Harvey wanted Donna to follow the process as smoothly as possible, finding her enough shaken by all the sudden changes; so that's why he suggested it was him to move into her apartment. How she wishes he didn't, now.
"Well, seems like you've got your answer." She replies unsympathetically.
"I need to talk to you." He vocalizes, trying to hang on the little politeness she has and hoping she won't shut him down.
"We have nothing to say to each other." The redhead walks by him, about to insert the keys in the lock.
He instinctively grabs her arm to stop her, the contact makes her both shiver and tense up. He can feel her tremble under his skin.
"Donna-" he gets her to turn around.
"Get your hands off me or I'm going to scream." She threatens, eyes wide and on alert. They trail to where his hold stills.
"Okay." He lets go of her like her skin was on fire. "I don't want to scare you." He expands the distance between them and raises his hands in defense.
"You don't scare me." She voices with confidence. Her chin up and her gaze rough.
"So you're scared of what my presence is going to imply." True, so true. But in spite of that, she plays the fool.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Her eyes drop the eye contact; a further proof she's lying.
"Oh, but you do. Penelope." At her mention, Donna panics. She has to find a way to save her ass in no time, her mind contemplating all the possible sceneries. She shouldn't take this kind of decision on her own. What if she says the wrong thing? Can she prevent her family's misery? "Or do you want to tell me that it's all just a big coincidence?" He asks rhetorically.
There's a long pause. The air is becoming thicker and thicker, almost impossible to breathe, and her stomach is turned into tight knots.
"She's mine isn't she?" It's a statement more than a question.
"She's mine." She throws back, without even thinking and with a disarming confidence. An unexpected, but just as forceful, sense of safeguard comes out at his unearned possessiveness. "But biologically yes, you might have...offered the genetic heritage." She decides to go with the truth; he was going to press her until she broke anyway.
Stephen is astounded by her confession. Even if he was a ninety percent sure Penelope could have been conceived in the few weeks he had been with Donna, hearing her saying it out loud is a whole different deal. He's turned into a father in a blink of an eye. He realizes he has created a life, a life that takes from both him and Donna. And she hasn't thought about letting him know? That his daughter has been living all these years without his acknowledgment? Giving that it's his daughter and not Harvey's (you know, just saying) .
"I can't believe it. And you never told me?" He scoffs outraged.
"Yes, Stephen. I never told you because I believe you've been behind the bars for the last five years." Once the fear of exposing the truth has gotten away, nothing can stop the anger and resentment.
He knows she has a point, but that can't be the only thing that keeps him from being a father. And he sure as hell wants to be one.
"That has nothing to do with-"
"It has everything to do with it." She explains, putting particular emphasis on the word everything. "I should have, what, come during the visit hours and show you the sonogram pictures? Tell my daughter that her dad can't make it for her birthday because he has committed murders? How do you think that would have turned out?" Tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.
"I...I know I wasn't a good man, Donna." He hates to see her so hurt. Stephen truly cares about her, and thinking about her going through all of those moments without him turns on a solid sense of guilt.
She chuckles, biting her bottom lip. Her hand is brought to her face to wipe away the tears. Then she looks away, her gaze landing on her shoulder.
"I'm incredibly sorry, you deserved better. But now, now I'm here. I can be there for you."
"You're out of your mind." She shakes her head in disbelief.
"Donna, you're my family." He pleads, desperately wanting to hang on the newfound possibility of living in the warmth of a unity.
"No, we are nothing for you, you are nothing for us. And it will stay that way." She turns around, unlocks the door and stands on the doorway. He thinks twice this time before trying to stop her.
"You can't keep her away from me."
"I sure as hell can. Now leave and don't ever come back." She shuts the door and walks away.
.
.
Mike calculates the distance moving back and forth on his spot. He pokes his inner cheek with his tongue as he retraces his past shots to not slip into his mistakes again. He raises his right arm, rolls the crumpled paper in his hand and finally throws it into the trash can. He waits for it to land outside the basket and comments with a grunt his failure.
"Ah! You're so screwed." Harvey remarks amused, propping his feet on the desk.
"That's so not true." Mike points a finger at him.
"H-O-R-S, an E and you're out." The bigger lawyer says cockily.
"We agreed the R didn't count!" Mike jumps at the un exact calculation of the points. "I sprained my wrist." He justifies.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Winners don't blame the wrist, the rim or the wind speed in a closed-off room." He replies the words he had said to his sidekick over eight years ago.
"And how many times do I have to tell you that the fan was on?!" He walks back to the desk, grabbing another sheet of paper.
"You know," Harvey says while Mike continues his task, crumpling the page. "that forests are in danger and you are wasting paper losing."
Mike rolls his eyes and throws him an are you serious look.
"Don't look at me like that, you're the one who deletes every effort our society makes to make our earth a safe place." He throws his own ball into the bucket.
"You should become an environmental attorney." Mike suggests.
"Yeah, when they see that fur my wife has..."
"Wasn't it synthetic?" Mike asks, shooting from below this time. It hits the ground, but Harvey doesn't seem to notice.
"She claims." He replies, smacking Mike's hand when the boy is about to reach another piece of paper and try his luck again. He mocks a hurt expression and caresses his hand dramatically.
"Speaking of your wife," The loser begins.
"What about her?" Harvey gets his feet off the table to sit straight.
"Is she ok?" He wonders, taking a seat in front of his mentor.
That Donna told Mike what happened? Or maybe she spoke to Rachel, who then told Mike? He finds it hard to believe. The matter too sensitive for her to discuss it with any other one that's not him. And they had agree not to mention it.
"Yes, why would you ask?" He shrugs, apparently unable to stop fidgeting with the pen in his hands.
Damn it, once he was better at bluffing; hell, he was the best at bluffing. He recalls when his skills saved the day, people always in need for him to take them out of shit, him often recurring to cons to accomplish that. But again, that used to happen a lot more when his only interest was winning billions worth lawsuits and when he didn't have to come home to someone. As a matter of fact, he doesn't work as much as he did before, long late nights turned into get in time to tuck you daughter in nights. Though, that's a lot better.
"Just... in Bishop's office, when she saw Stephen, and then... well she seemed very upset. I just want to know how she's doing."
His dedication for his family makes him feel like he can really count on someone if things gone wrong. Harvey Specter values nothing more than Donna and Penelope, so when he says he would trust him with their lives, he's pretty damn serious.
"I appreciate your concern Mike, but she's fine." He lies, then tries to redirect the route of the conversation, keeping him from going further. "Anyway, have you had troubles with Bishop?"
"Mh," Mike thinks about it. "At first there had been a misunderstanding, but Donna took care of it."
"Okay..." Harvey trails off, not too convinced.
"Why? Are we having any troubles with him?"
"No, but still he hasn't called." Harvey shoots yet another time, his eyes squeeze following the path of the ball. It dunks. His features crack in a celebratory smile.
"Seems weird." He observes.
"Okay, I should get going. You know, some of us do actually something at work, rather than just playing H.O.R.S.E." Mike stands up and grabs the suit jacket that had been discarded on the backrest of the leather chair. He tosses it on his shoulders and heads towards the exit of Harvey's office.
"You're just getting out of here before I start prancing." Harvey shouts at him.
"What? I can't quite hear you." Mike motions at his ears.
"Let's just hope you're better at working than at shooting."
.
.
Stephen takes the elevator upwards to the offices he once worked in. The grey metal doors open to the same place he still held in his mind. His sight is greeted with the large wooden receptions' desk, those two little green plants at each end of the table. He had always wondered if they were fake or if someone actually took time to water them. The walls are still painted with that turquoise shade and the glass ones show the large conference rooms and offices. Who knows who got his. People are running down the hall, busy as ever and focused on their tasks. The phones ring as if there was no tomorrow and he definitely feels in his element. He has missed this. Real life. It still feels like it was yesterday, when he got up in his penthouse and got into work and kicked some asses. Nothing's changed, except everything is.
He approaches a brunette secretary, asking for Harvey Specter. While the employee types something at the computer, he catches a glimpse of red hair. He'd lie if he didn't say he hoped to bump into her at the firm, but, now that she's actually a few meters from him, he grows nervous. His heart acquires a few extra beats at the thought of talking to her again after the way they had last left each other. Maybe he should just drop everything, it had been a risky plan after all. But then she sees him and it's too late for that.
They stare at each other through the glass wall for a few seconds, but he can't quite read her. But maybe it's better this way, because the only thing she can think about right now is how to kill him. Did her message not go through? Just the other day she was yelling at him, ordering to not attempt to see her, and now he's at the firm?
She strolls furiously down the hallway to reach him and stops when he's near enough to hear what she whispers.
"Do I have to file a restraining order for you to understand-"
"Relax, Donna," He cuts her mid sentence. "The world doesn't revolve around you." He sounds way harsher than he meant. But she's treating him like shit, so he finds his tone appropriate after all.
"Then what on earth are you doing here?" She ponders, visibly annoyed. The enemy is in her territory and she fells oppressed.
"Even though our conversation is definitely not over," He starts. "I'm actually here for business." He declares.
"Business? We don't have any business with you." She asserts.
"As a matter of fact, you do." He starts opening his bag and grabs a bound file. "I'm representing Kyle Bishop." He declares.
"That's not possible. Pearson Specter Litt represents him." She had talked it through with him and they signed an engagement letter just a week ago.
"I'm afraid not. He's fired you and I stepped in." He explains, a little too smug for her liking.
"What?" She frowns, little wrinkles forming on her forehead.
"Uh-uh. He didn't appreciate how you didn't look out for his interests." Stephen hands her the document he was holding. "That's why we're suing you, for bad faith."
She is left speechless. The migraine that had started building the other day, suddenly creeping in. Her head throbs.
"I imagine you're still working for Harvey, so you can tell him I'll see him in court."
It seems like Harvey and Stephen will have to meet again after all. And during trial!
To lift any of your doubts, Donna has referred to Stephen as Penelope's father just because she thought she could push him away without explaining all the situation with Harvey. We still don't know who's the real dad. (Well, except me of course ;)