This chapter was support to be even longer than this, but decided to split it in two. It was tiresome but I enjoyed writing it. Great part of the rest is done, so I believe I'll upstate soon. I hope to have written Louis as much in character as I could given the situation. He's such a dynamical persona that I hope I won't disappoint. Just imagine him on our screens, I'll tell you, I've never used so many exclamation points.
G-
As all of his blood rushes south to his brain, a weird sense of heaviness follows path and collects at the bottom of his forehead. It probably looks like a hollow full of the scarlet liquid previously contained in his veins, and the realization only fuels his current nausea. The compression spreads to his nerves and brings pressure where they branch. After just a minute and a half he's almost totally clouded, his vision starts to blurry when something in his pulse shifts.
Its rhythm has changed, he would recognize it, after all he had a heart attack. His already fatigued organ should not have to keep up with more beats. Ok, he's changing position now, before the only position he can assume is recumbent, in his grave.
Louis rolls himself over, the few extra pounds making the achievement a little bit clumsier. He violently outstretches his neck up, in order to make the blood flow down and sprinkle his interiors again. The feet that were once laying on the headboard now find their natural place on the ground, his sore back finally resting against the cushions. Being head down was probably not a good idea. He's just so restless.
Louis Marlowe Litt has never been good at being quiet and still. He is passionate, and loud, and fierceful, and - unless he's specifically told to on a working or medical level - he doesn't take orders from anyone. A couple of chimps in Tyvek suits that tells him to stay there and do nothing is not admissible.
The group in the room groans at yet another Louis' change of position. He's been squirting and fussing for over an hour and they just can't take it anymore.
Katrina can't help but think about those experiments where scientists put some rats in a confined space and observe their reactions. They analyze their behavior in order to draw up their characters and find the ones who have more spirit of survival and the ones who cave first. Well, her former mentor certainly falls within the second range.
He's trying to distract himself - that much is clear - but it only foments his nervousness. And it shows. Oh boy, if it shows. He's doing a very poor job at trying to hide his worries. While certain people like Harvey are clearly in distress, but manage to swallow it up. As a matter of fact, the only outcome of his currently buried real state of mind are little sporadic nervous twitches.
It's his fingers. He drums them on the surface of his desk, eliciting a sound that echoes in the silence that fills the room. One time, then again and again.
"Can you stop doing that?" Louis asks sourly enough, cracking one eye open and glaring at Harvey.
The man keeps tapping on the glass, shaking his head and moving his brows closer one another to fish a further explanation.
Louis discloses the eyelids of his other eye and bends forward, "That thing you're doing with your fingers. It's making me go nuts!" He lets out an exasperated sigh.
Harvey rolls his eyes and stills his movements, freezing his hand, only for his index to aim at Louis after a second, "I am making you go nuts?" He throws his hands up. "Jesus, you've basically burned a hole into my carpet and now you're doing the same on my couch!"
He wants to come up with a good excuse, but it won't come, considering he's currently crunched on the leather forniture. So he does what he does best: he attacks. "At least I'm not pretending to have joined a rock band with my digits!"
"And what would you possibly know about anything that isn't ballet?" Harvey quips with playful smile on his lips.
"We've been over it." Louis suddenly stands up. Clearly, a minute of rest doesn't encounter his liking. "And that was a joke, dumbass." He whispers the second part, but still loud enough for Harvey to hear.
"Watch it!"
"Gentlemen, are we arguing again? Because, if that's the case, you'll have to stop right now." Mike walks in, hands raised in sign of settling the chaos. Behind him appear his fiancé and the redhead.
"We can't have you ripping each other's heads off when we're blocked here. You'll make us all go crazy." Rachel adds, crossing her arms in front of her cream blouse.
"We're long past that." Katrina comments, rubbing her hands over her face. Screw makeup.
Harvey immediately spots Donna standing next to the door. She's not even smiling at Katrina's words, she's tense and if he didn't know any better, he still could tell that she's worried. He stands up, rounds his desk and gets closer. His hand grabs gently her right arm and tugs her to the corner.
"They didn't let you. Did they?" He observes.
She shakes her head, confirming, her gaze landing on the floor. "They told me that it doesn't matter if we have to pick up our daughter. They suggested to call someone and arrange something."
"Fuck," He courses under his breath. "We could call Heather. I know she's not supposed to be working tonight but-"
"What for? Stephen will show up at eight anyways." She states, even if she's the last one who wants him there. It's just ridiculous that something this impending happens right the night they're suppose to have dinner.
"We could cancellate." Harvey suggests, like it's the most obvious solution. And it is, or it would be. But Stephen is extremely punctilious and most certainly not stupid, he will probably think they're making up excuses. Not that they wouldn't, but in this case it's a case of force majeure.
"No, we can't. He'll know something's up." She's concerned, that much is obvious as she sniffs, but Harvey can't discern his sentiment from the reality of the predicament.
"Then enlighten me, Donna. Since you are ditching all of my ideas." He huffs. Deep down he knows she's just reasoning, but he feels powerless trapped in there and the thought of what is approaching outside is far less delightful.
"Do you think I'm enjoying myself? I'm just being realistic! You think once he finds out we're stuck here, he won't insist on picking her up himself?" She's upset. The wrinkles on her forehead and the way she's clenching her jaw are the signals of that. But he reads a little protectiveness in her behavior too. After all, she's also a mom who is just as preoccupied as him.
"Don't act like I'm being difficult. Because our situation is difficult. We don't exactly have the upper hand and I'm trying-" She starts hyperventilating, saying all to fast and too vigorously, till he doesn't need to hear more.
"Ok, you're right." He takes her face into his palms and she feels like crying. She's so tired of trying to find a way to get them out of this mess. Fleeing the harm's way is grueling and she's never felt more helpless in her life.
Harvey fells a hot tear escaping her wet eye and colliding with his thumb, which quickly catches it. He's an ass for making her feel that way; there's no need to add to the load she's already carrying, when she's clearly struggling with her own fears. Yet, there's something that usually results in him lashing out at her. If he looked more carefully, he could say that he resents her a little, after all, but he's not there yet to analyze those feelings, let alone name them.
"You're trying to help, and I am being difficult. I'm sorry." He apologizes while stroking her soft features. He'll never tell her, but he loves feelings the not so soft ones too. It's like he can trace the lines that mark the years they have spent together under his fingertips. But she would either call him a sap for his mushy thoughts, or an idiot for basically telling her that she has wrinkles. So he keeps this guilty pleasure for himself.
Her labored breath is hot against his wrist, as she leans into his touch. "You know what we have to do." Donna begins carefully.
"I don't want to." He complains with a quiet cry.
"Me neither." She says softly. "But unfortunately it's not up to us to decide." The melancholy permeates her words.
She tilts her head to kiss his hand, letting her own reach for it and intertwine their fingers. It's a little ruse to turn his attention to her affectionate touch rather than what she's going to do next. The other goes down to the hidden pocket of her navy dress and pulls her phone out of it.
She indulges in dialing the numbers, but after a good thirty seconds the combination appears on the display and she pushes the call button, before moving the device close to her ear.
Stephen's Iphone buzzes on the surface of his cherrywood table. He moves from the decanter to where the vibrations come from. With one hand holding the empty glass, he picks the mobile up to notice with surprise the familiar ID caller.
"Hello." He presses the phone between his ear and shoulder, walking towards the bottles of whiskey.
"Stephen, listen, we have a problem." Donna says, hand squeezing Harvey's. It's just logical it's her to handle the conversation. After all, he's just punched the man days before.
"What kind of problem?" He asks, not sounding so convinced.
When he saw Donna's name announcing the imminent phone call, he had thought she wanted to discuss further details about their plans. Now he wonders if she just wants to delete them.
"The office has been closed. We are at risk for tuberculosis and they have to make sure we're clean before we can go home." She briefly explains.
"And how long will that take?" He's genuinely curious and asks the question while taking hold of the cellphone again, only to sandwich it again, but on the other side so he can pour himself two fingers of alcohol.
"As long as it takes. We have no idea." She shrugs.
"So, for tonight..." He takes a sip of the burning drink. Then, he soothes the sensation on his lips licking them.
"We can postpone it." She tries, crossing her fingers and hoping he will just drop it. They are giving him a plausible explanation, if they would have wanted to fool him, they would have never gone with something like an isolation.
He's about to say yes, when a thought occurs, "What about Penelope? Who is going to take care of her?"
Donna looks at Harvey pursuing her lips. He knows he's caught them, but beckons regardless, for her to continue. She can lead the game, he trusts her.
"Well," She takes a breath, trying to sound as casual as possible. He doesn't have to understand they'd rather cut their arms off than let him near her. It would only fuel his desire to do that. "We've got a trusted babysitter and her classmates' mothers."
"But you also have me. I could go."
Shit.
He jumps at the first occasion.
"Stephen, there's no need-"
"It's not about need. I want to."
But I don't, she thinks to herself.
"Look-"
"Donna, I'm not stupid. You don't trust me and that's fine. But I would never do anything to Penelope." He assures her.
At the lack of response, he reaches for an incentive.
"I wouldn't want to come down to it, but do I need to remind you that's what you agreed to? Me being in the picture?" He pushes just enough.
"No, you don't." She sighs. Defeated, she glances at Harvey, who can do nothing but nod his head. "Fine." She concedes.
Harvey lets go of Donna's hand and bristles his sandy blonde hair. He starts pacing around, when he decides he needs to take a moments to himself.
She wants to say something, beg him to stay, but when she opens her mouth, nothing comes out. She'll let him blow off some steam, while she returns her attention to the other man on the line.
"You'll need your ID, for when you pick her up. I'll forward an email to the school with the leave, but they're meticulous, so they'll want to check."
"No problem." He happily says.
"You take her to her house, not yours. And you wait for us. Understood?"
"Understood."
"And Stephen," She adds before putting down. "Call us when you get there."
"Why?" He asks as he lets down the residue of his whiskey.
"She's learned to not doesn't trust strangers. And you're one for her. She's a pragmatic kid and she'll want to hear from her mom and dad."
.
.
Stephen's nervous, since he doesn't have any kind of experience with kids. He's never been married, and no one of his past girlfriends has been that serious to make him want to start a family. He's always been strictly committed to his job, and sometimes being Darby's right hand meant spending the night at the office or days abroad. After all, that's how he met Donna.
Since the moment he has landed eyes on her, he had been fascinated. Of course,the first thing he had admired was her figure, all wrapped in a super expensive turquoise dress. He had been attracted by her body. But when - regardless being turned around - she had noticed him and scolded him about entering Harvey's office without her permission, he had felt it. It was some kind of sparkle, a connection, and her perfect features, porcelain skin and fiery red hair were just an incentive.
Banter flew easily between the pair and he had never been more intrigued by a woman in his entire life. He craved time with her, loved hearing her talk, the confident words that came out from her perfect shaped mouth, directly by that intelligent brain of hers. The forwardness with which she carried herself around captured him more than he had liked to admit.
Work was just as important to her as it was to him, and he liked that. But maybe, back then, he hadn't understood that 'work' meant 'Harvey'.
Thinking about it, he has always been the third person in their relationship. At first, Stephen had believed that the surly attitude of the man was just given by the circumstances. They were dealing with a hard case - murder to be correct - and he believed they were on opposite sides. But as he grew more familiar with the dynamics, he saw what was underneath: the lawyer was jealous to the bone.
What sucked was that Donna kept defending him, emphasizing that she had something with Harvey that ha been going on for years. Stephen couldn't accept that she put the nonexistent relationship with her boss above what they may have had. But he's got it now. It wasn't just blind trust and loyalty, but love.
The act is, he's in love with her too.
Now that he knows the kind of life they could share and now that he's firmly convinced their affair has brought to life a beautiful kid, he wants to try again. He isn't delusional, she's still married, but he's not afraid of some competition. He truly feels a changed man and is hopeful that he can show Donna that too. He knows that it'll take time and effort. But what does he have to lose? He can only gain.
He scans the crowd of toddlers with their colored backpacks, evidently bigger than theirselves. Their run excitedly towards their parents after a tiring day at school, but with toothy - and not so toothy - smiles on their faces. It's loud and messy, but Stephen feels overwhelmed with joy and freshness. He could get used to it.
He spots red in the middle of the courtyard, and he knows it's her. He gently approaches the little ginger head and calls her name. The little girls looks for a familiar face, expecting her parents, Heater or even Mike and Rachel to be there, but none of them are in sight. Her eyes land on the well-dressed stranger that's waving at her, and she feels scared. She knows she doesn't have to be, her parents told her that as long as she's in a public space and she's alert, she's safe. She turns to leave and go to her teacher, but the man blocks her nudging her shoulder.
"Hey, I know you probably don't recognize me, but we've met before." He suggests. The prompt encourages her to look more closely at him, to seek any similarities. He's wearing a suit, like her dad, Louis and Mike.
Mike. Now she remembers. He's that gentleman that asked her name and how old she was. The fact that he isn't entirely foreign is a relief, and if Mike was talking with him, it means he knows him too. Yet, she had sensed tension in the room, like he wasn't well accepted.
"Stephen." She acknowledges him.
He lets out a breath he didn't long he was holding, thanking his lucky stars that she recognized him. At that point, he was afraid she would have started screaming that someone was trying to kidnap her.
"You remember my name?" He chuckles in amazement.
"I know everyone's name." She states with a confidence that resembles so much Donna's. There's no doubt who she takes after.
"Right." Stephen smirks. "I used to work with your mom." He doesn't mention Harvey on purpose, refusing to call him her dad. "She had a problem, unfortunately she's stuck at work and told me to take you home."
She eyes him head to toe, and he can basically see her cogs starting to churn. Stephen feels exposed, like he's under exam, which he basically is. She's figuring out if she can trust him, and he's intimidated by her judging.
She takes her time, and then voices, "I don't believe you at all."
Stephen knew that was most likely to happen. She's a smart kid, he can tell. He can't help but feeling a little proud of her.
"Your mom was sure you would have said that. She taught you well." Her eyes twinkle visibly. Her mom would be pleased by her being so adult. She seeks her mother's approval since forever. "But I'm not lying. How can I prove that to you?"
"I want to call them. And I want to show you to my teacher." And with that, she closes her arms in front of her and pumps her chest, like she's seen her dad do a million times when he's negotiating. He's right, she feels powerful.
Stephen shakes his head, realizing how Donna knows her well, and how much this baby girl is different from any other of her contemporary. He can't wait to spend some time with her and, hopefully, gain her trust. He was afraid to be inadequate, but the more she knows Penelope, the more he finds it easy to bond. It's like the miniature of an adult.
Stephen seals their pact with a handshake and obliges all of her requests.
.
.
Where is she now? Is she afraid that we have forgotten about her? Is she disappointed that we have let a British stranger come to pick her up? What is that son of a bitch inculcating in her head?
These are the questions that fill Harvey's head at the moment.
The air fells thicker, his chest feels hovered by an elephant and he prays the lord he doesn't have a panic attack right now. Yet, the familiar pressure at the edge of his stomach tells him otherwise.
He takes a deep breath and does his best to stop his shaking and itchy hands, symptom they've going to get sweaty. That as well as his forehead.
Donna notices the shift of his edgy demeanor immediately, and slowly takes his hand in hers. Very slowly, almost as if she's worried to startle him or break him.
Unfortunately, the ultimate action draws Louis' attention, who examines Harvey's aspect too. What he reads into it, though, are the symptoms of the disease.
"Harvey, you feel ill?" He panics, suddenly taking the distance from him.
"No Louis, he's just tired." Donna steps in, as Harvey seems unable to form a coherent response. He's on the razor's edge and he doesn't need to be on the center of the attention.
"You don't look tired, you look sick." Louis pushes, not willing to let it go. He feels uneasy as well, so. "Oh god, I knew it. You're down."
Everyone rush to help Harvey's cause, not much because it wouldn't be possible that he's contracted the virus, but to prevent Louis' tantrum.
"No, he needs to be taken to another room. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I've breathed his contaminated air!"
"Louis, calm down." Katrina tries to soothe him.
"I don't have anything like that, trust me." Harvey reassures, feeling a little relieved his attention his brought to something else, even if he's still in the spotlight .
"TBC doesn't care if you're the great Harvey Specter. You're not untouchable!" He starts undoing his tie to free his constricted throat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and gulping loudly. "I don't feel great too. I can't breathe. That's it, I'm slowly dying."
"Lou-"
"I can't believe it. We're all going to die. This is my last day on earth." The dramatic gene kicks in, Donna knows it well after he's helped her dust off her Shakespeare knowledge. The thing is, she really believes he's unwell, but knows it's just suggestion.
"Someone please stop him." Says Gretchen, who looks on the verge of a mental breakdown.
"There is so much I still want to do. I wanted to adopt that prodigious Persian cat and sign him up for that contest. I'm going to miss the annual origami festival too-"
"That's it. Im' outta here." The black woman announces with a huff, standing to head to the door.
"Louis shut the fuck up! No one is leaving and no one is dying!" Harvey shouts in exhaustion.
"He's right. I get that we're all stressed the hell out of our system because we've been locked here for hours, but we have to keep it together. So stop shouting and start acting like a goodman grownup!" Rachel, who had been silent all that long, finally speaks, gaining a question look from her colleagues. "What? I've had enough too for god's sakes!"
The inspectors knock at the glass door of Harvey's office, acknowledging their presence. "Sorry to interrupt your bickering, but it's time to take some analysis."
"Wait, what do you mean with 'take some analysis'?"
The man on the right lifts up a couple of packed injections. All the colors leave Alex's face.
"Nah, no way I'm going to let you near me with that thing." He backs off three steps to put some distance between him and his worst fear.
"After we get the results and we make sure you are clean, you're free to go." The doctor informs them. A flash of hope grazes the lawyers', secretary's and COO's faces.
"Alex, come on!" The group encourages him.
"Insert a needle in my arm and I'll sue you."
"Blood. They want to take our blood, Donna!" Louis is terrified as well, and hangs on Donna's arm almost begging her to make it stop.
"Louis, I'll give exactly two seconds to tear yourself away from me." She says, calm but sternly enough to give him the creeps.
"I can give you the option of the tampon, if you prefer." The Tyvek suited man offers, raising a cotton wool that seems to go on and on for miles.
God, it was like the briefcase of the horrors.
"If you think I'm going to let them scrub my throat with that abomination because baby boy one and two can't suck it up, you're all delusional." Gretchen points out, crossing her arms in front of her prominent chest.
"ENOUGH!" Donna shouts with all the force she has in her. She sick and tired of people that doesn't want to cooperate. She has far more important problems that she'll have to deal with at home.
"Louis and Alex, stop acting like four year olds at the first medical visit, or I'll take your blood with the bites of my own teeth if that's necessary." She points a finger a finger at the pair.
"Gretchen, if they're such wusses to not make it, you are going to submit yourself to the tampon." Gretchen eyes her with arrogance. "And don't you dare look at me like that, or I swear I'll shove that thing down your throat myself." Donna threatens.
The two intruders can't help but enjoy the cabaret with an amused laugh.
"And you," She turns to them. "Take off your faces that smug expression, before I slap it away."
"Anyone has any objections?" Silence. "Great, then let's knock ourselves out, shall we?"
Harvey smiles at that badass and slightly out of stock wife of his. They will always need their COO.
So, if you're come down till the end, congratulations! Hope you enjoyed it. I've put so much effort in this so please tell me what you think. Stay tuned for part two! (A little more of Stephen and Penelope and Donna and Harvey coming home)