A quick few things before you read this one that I've decided it's the penultimate chapter.
READ IMPORTANT:
I don't know how many people still read or are happy to read my work after last time. I regret almost nothing because I've planned to do it since I've started this fix and challenged myself since I knew I could make it turn it out good. Still, I also knew that if I had been a reader myself, I would have probably had your same reaction. That's why I warned you at the beginning of the chapter and told you to have faith in me, because things aren't exactly like they seem.

I'm glad for many people who have trusted me, but I'm also sad because the most hurtful comments were from guests and I couldn't reply to them and reassure them the way I did with the others. So please read this, so maybe I'll know that my hard work hasn't been ruined because of some stupid stuff that you'll have clarified right as you begin reading.
Turns out I'm pretty satisfied and hope you can enjoy this. I've been pretty emotional this whole time.

G-

Time has stopped flowing, and he suddenly finds himself in a life that he doesn't recognize his anymore.

Donna.

Stephen.

In her bed.

In their bed.

Jeez, why does he keep staring?

"Harvey..." she cries out, but he's too preoccupied looking at Stephen's smirk as he runs a hand up her bare arm to acknowledge the plea.

He should probably be angry, saying that all the times he has been insecure he had indeed been right. He should hate her and say she's a bitch for cheating on him, and on top of all, with that man. But he just feels like dying. He could cry and fall on his knees right then and there, but he's too nauseated and shocked to stay there and let them enjoy the effect they have on him.

So he just runs away.

After that, everything's confused. He doesn't know where he is, what he is doing, what is happening. He lets himself get swallowed in the spiral he's falling into, and he suddenly wakes up in a halt.

The surroundings are dark, a blinding darkness, and he finds it incredibly hard to discern where dizziness ends and reality begins. It's when he gropingly searches for something tangible, that his hands bump into the lamp on the nightstand next to him. Harvey switches the light on with trembling struggle, brightening the room. His corneas aren't ready to face the rawness of the newfound shine, and he shies away from it, rubbing his sore eyes.

Paternity test. His condo. Scotch. Painting. Donna. Stephen.

Everything comes back to his memory, as he has just enlightened his brain. The knot gathered in his stomach tightens, as he tries to follow a rational trail of thoughts. He checks his phone: it's Friday and it's early, a time he would have been up anyway when he used to hit the gym or go for a run, but not that late that the sun is up. In what he thinks it's safe to call now a nightmare, instead of reality, he had gotten back to Donna in the morning. That means whatever he had witnessed to was fictitious. It's so clear, he had dreamt it. His damaged mind must have made it up after he had gotten to his apartment last night, because he's still here. None of that was real.

Then why can't he shake the horrible feeling that maybe, just maybe, that's what's really happening right now? No, Donna would never do that. They may have fought, but cheating is something she would never even consider. She's too smart for that. Yet, his heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage indicates him that, Stephen or not Stephen, he has been an idiot leaving her alone and closing himself to the outside world one more time. It has taken him years, but he's gotten past that. That's exactly why he throws away the covers and jumps out of bed, to go tell Donna she has him, now and forever.

He reaches a whole new level of efficiency, getting ready in a hurry and rushing to their home in less than twenty minutes. But every steps he makes, his mind can't help but go back to his dream, and he finds the similarities between the two dimensions frightening. His run, his excitement to see her and talk to her, and when his feet carry him to the door, the new fear of what he might find inside.

A hot lump sums up his throat, and, despite the almost choke and the air that seems unable to stay down his lungs, he convinces himself he's grown and has to face whatever he might walk into. Tentatively at first and determine at last, he gets inside the 206 apartment.

His wobbly legs manage to take him to the living room, where he catches a glimpse of red hair.

Donna is curled up on the couch, back facing him and hot cup of what he assumes from the smell is her beloved herbal tea between her fingertips. Right on cue, as if she senses his presence, which she probably just does, she turns around.

Her bloodshot eyes break and soothe his heart in equal measure. Harvey has never been able to stand seeing her cry, him being the blatant cause of that. But at the same time, that gives him the hope she's hurting just as much as him - not that he has ever wanted them to come to that anyway - and that they may still be on the same page. They have to be.

He should tell her just that, except he's rooted on that spot, looking at her a not mustering up a word.

"Harvey," she whispers.

Donna is reading him like a book - an easy one on top of that - and her senses tingle. The resolve in his eyes tells her he has come up with something, his laboured breath tells her that he couldn't wait to share that with her, the fatigue and softness in his attitude tells her he's done fighting.

"Where is- what happened last night?" He asks between gasps. He's not mad, she knows he's not. But he's looking around like he's missing something and she desperately wants him to grasp it so they can move on. But this time for good, this time without uncertainties hanging above their heads.

"How did you do it?" She sniffles. Yet again, they're caught in one of their telepathic conversations, not words needed for her to understand that he got that from living close to her, but words very much occurred for when she retraces last night events.

.
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"I love you and I'm not going anywhere. So, if you let me, I'm going to spend everyday of my life to prove to you that I can be it."

Then, he leans in and goes to press his lips against hers.

Donna doesn't register what's going on right away. She is talking to him one second, and the other he's invading her personal space. She's positive she might have blacked out for a moment, but as soon as she senses his mouth on hers, she instantly retracts, snapped back to reality. A reality she would very like not to be her own.

Her hand moves out of its own accord, lifting from the couch, flying up in the air and then landing on Stephen's cheek with a loud smack. He gasps and when her hand leaves his now reddish cheekbone, he instinctively replaces it with his own, covering his bruise.

"What do you think you're doing?" She lashes out, anger very much present in her tone.

He throws her a puzzled look, frowning and keeping pressure on the right side of his face, scanning his fingers every once in a while in a futile attempt to relieve some pain. Damn, she did it him hard.

"I-" he starts, but doesn't really know what to say not to upset her even more. He's walking on a minefield and she's speaking pretty louder than what's usually deemed for common causal conversation. In all fairness, she's probably either going to wake her neighbors or Penelope up, and he does not want to alarm either of them. Though, he cannot just stay there on his sorry ass and stare at her like a deer caught in the headlights. "Thought we- we were having a moment..." he rambles almost putting it as a question to himself, more than an excuse.

"And exactly what kind of moment would we be having?" She asks obviously rhetorically, even Stephen gets that. Yes, she may have not showered him with her usual pretty flattering comments about what a horrible man he is, but it shouldn't be considered green light to kiss her. God, even the thought makes her guts churn.

"Look D-"

"No." She stops him abruptly. "I think you should go." She eyes the joined hands - one of them still sore for the weeks-in-the-making slap - while almost politely signaling him the exit. If he had confused her intentions, or had wanted to confuse them, she has to be as direct as possible. Leave no room for doubt. And that starts by making him leave her and Harvey's home.

Stephen is now regretting his move. He had gained an upper hand, and not given by his impositions, but by one of Harvey's lacks; it was a genuine ease he thought he was putting them in, but he pushed it too much. He thinks about trying to hang on some other cue, but from the way she's sheltering her body, he can tell she's not quite serene. It won't work.

He may have blowed up his chance with Donna, but there's still Penelope. With her, he has one more shot. He pushes himself off the couch and how Donna distances herself when he passes over her doesn't go unnoticed. He grabs his coat in religious silence, while his eyes catches Donna fiddling with her fingers, probably waiting for him to be out of the door. He feels it. The rush, the need to be alone. But he's not done, yet.

"I'd still like for you to agree to have the test done. We both know it's not really up to you to decide, but I don't think we have to come to an imposition." He stops at the threshold and looks at the woman behind his shoulder.

"Right." She snickers drearily. The disappointment in her voice is definitely seeping out.

"What's that supposed to mean? Is it so absurd that I want to know if I have a daughter or not?" He turns fully to look at her. The darkness of the hallway is in contrast with her pale skin and littlest solitaire hanging around her long neck.

"Stop it. Just stop it." She scoffs, followed by the widest roll of eyes he's ever witnessed to. "This whole thing, doing the martyr. It's bullshit." She traces a loop in the air around his slim figure, highlighting the object of her accusations.

"I beg your pardon?" Stephen widens his eyes.

She's tired. Tired of pretending she's on board with everything he says, tired to pretend she keeps up with him, trying pretend she's okay to submit to his abuse and to be silent. She guesses she has nothing to lose now. She won't hold back, she's done it for too long and it's nearly killing her.

"You heard me. You act like this is about a moral concept, like it isn't personal, but I think it is. I mean, you get out of prison and there you are, alone, not knowing what to do with your life. Afterward, you learn there's this slight possibility that you may have a child, and here it is, the chance to start again. And since then, you have hung on every last string you could pull to make it happen, not caring about what stood in your way. So no, I won't let you play the victim any longer."

Stephen looks at her and sees nothing if not determination. She has the fierceness of a lioness protecting her children, the resolve of a queen ruling her reign, the tenacity of a man fighting for its liberty. And you can't possibly argue with that. "I don't know what you want me to say to that." He shrugs, while he pokes his inside cheek with his tongue.

"Don't say anything, just leave me alone." With motions the door with one fluid motion of her head, ginger curls dancing with her. Yet, there's no softness in her gesture, just pure stiffness.

Everything tells him that this is a battle he can't win, and he opens the door himself to get out.

"He might leave you, you know?" He can't help but say at last, not even facing her. The silence he meets encourages him to go further, "Once the result comes. He might not handle the situation anymore."

"Yes, he might." He hears her sigh, picturing her tired face. He can feel it burning his skin. "But that changes nothing between us. No matter how it will turn out with Harvey, I could never ever be with you. You are a cold calculator, not a good man. And that most certainly has little to do with my husband, and very much to do with your persona."

"You're making a mistake."

"I can deal with the consequences." She shrugs, and if he would just turn his head a little bit, he could see the phantom of a smirk playing at the end of her lips.

He closes the door again, and, for a moment, she's worried that she'll have to call the cops. But he just says, "So I'll just- be very quiet and kiss Penelope goodnight-"

"I would prefer if you didn't do that." She raises a hand to create an imaginary barrier between the innocent girl sleeping in the room down the hallway and the man.

"Until we have something, you are still no one. And don't think that some piece of paper is going to make her suddenly love you. Don't get any ideas, you may be her biological father, but don't act like you're her dad. Because Harvey is and she couldn't have had better." That said, she's decided she's had enough, getting past him and pushing him to the other side of the wooden piece of forniture that holds the golden numbers '206', closing it.

Donna lets out a shaky breath, the adrenaline that was rushing through her veins just moments before suddenly dries out. What was keeping her up has ran out and she falls, leaning against the door, back slithering down it as she takes a sit on the floor. Her knees fold against her chest, while she rests her head between her hands. A quiet sob escapes her.

"Are you crying?" A tiny voice startles her, and she snaps her eyes, open and vigilant again, weeping the moisture that was covering them. She was so buried in her misery that she hadn't noticed the toddler waking up and walking to her.

She opts for a casual smile, some kind of comfort to resemble the role she should always take upon, but that she now feels inadequate for. Her bottom lip quivers pretty badly, so she presses it and the upper one together, trying to give her appearance some kind of credibility. But the way her daughter looks at her, while hugging herself, very much disoriented, eyes heavy with interrupted sleep and fear, she's turned into puddle.

"Did he do something to you?" The little girl shyly asks, almost as if she doesn't want to hear the answer because she still won't know what to do. Penelope shifts her weight from one foot to another, waiting for her to say something.

"No baby," Donna opens her arms welcomingly, inviting her in her embrace, "He upset me. I just don't like him very much." She adds, freeing Penelope's forehead from messy orangey strands of hair, kissing the uncovered spot. Her chin rests on top of her head.

"Me neither." Penelope admits, causing Donna to look down, seeking an answer with a puzzled expression.

"I thought you did." Jeez, she has always prided herself with being able to know people better than they know themselves, and she has no clue of what's going on in her own daughter's head.

"He was trying to buy me with ice cream." The child shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Donna chuckles and she feels proudness filling her chest.

There's a twinkle in Penelope's eyes, and she finds it impossible to believe that she could have anything in common with that murderer. If he indeed is her father, Donna's glad she took after her, and, she must admit, a little after Harvey too. Yes, because the might not share the same DNA, but the way she talks, the way she smiles, the way she thinks, is all Harvey.

Her mother's arms that envelope her contribute to create a warm and safe space, where she nearly falls asleep again. A yawn triggers Donna's maternal side, and she's ready to accomplish her duties by putting the kid to bed.

The two redheads rest in bed together that night, its small size forcing Donna to be crushed by Penelope's weight all above her chest; but there, literally surrounded by her daughter's body and sweet scent, she finds a quietness she never thought reachable.

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It makes sense. Really, now everything just makes sense. Harvey is fine. He doesn't comprehend how Donna can be so brave to confront Stephen, while he can't even cope with his own fears. If there was any doubt they had to know, now is totally gone.

The cold and sticky morning air prickles their skin and it brings a new breath of freshness. Everything fells more tangible, clearer, and it's like Harvey has just woken up after an epiphany. But maybe he's too deep in his own realizations because he registers after several seconds that Donna is the one who is speaking.

"If last night made me realize something, is that I've failed as a mother. Because the only thing I would have wanted to make sure of, is that no matter what could happen, Penelope would be protected. I made a promise to her, and to you, and to myself, that I would make her live a normal life, that she would have the best and that I wouldn't cause her any harm. I thought I was keeping her out of this, but I now realize that she has suffered this whole time, and I've failed to notice that. And doing this- keeping her in this eternal limbo, it nearly kills me."

"I feel the same way." He quietly admits, finally moved by her words. "And you haven't failed as a mother."

She lowers her gaze, and he just has to let her understand that he means what he's saying, that it's nothing if not a fact. "You listen to me," he walks to her and, with a tug of his index anchored under her chin, lifts her head. He forces her to make eye contact, because it's the only way he can show her his true feelings. "You have always demanded too much from yourself. And you succeed in ninety-nine percent of the time, but that one percent left is what makes me proud of loving you everyday. You have allowed me to have some kind of ransom for my father, who I bet would have loved to teach me how to be one. But that is one of the many things you've helped me accept, because I got to learn along the way with you."

"You're going to make me cry." She states, and Harvey decides to bypass the fact that his hand is already soaking with her tears. That's okay, he's shredding them too and he's not ashamed of it.

"I'm just getting started." He chocks a little on these exact words. "I couldn't stand the idea of not being her biological dad and knowing that, not because I wouldn't love Penelope the way I love her now, but because I was afraid I'd just become 'Harvey' instead of 'dad'. But watching you, being the way you are, always putting anyone before you, and wanting to do better every single time, makes me want to do that too. We're going to find out the truth, and it's going to be okay, because as long as I'm with you, everything is. You make me brave."

And then, Donna just throws her arms around him, bracing herself to the one man who is guilty of making her so unstable she has to reach out in the first place. Yet, he is both disease and cure.

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It's days later when they go to an analysis laboratory to have their blood drawn. Penelope complains she can't have breakfast that morning and has to wake up way earlier than when she would on a daily basis. The whole place smells of antiseptic, and while they should be glad it's a clean space, it only fuels the nausea of all the three of them. Harvey because his life is probably about to change, Donna for the same reason as Harvey and something more she can't quite pinpoint, Penelope because she deep down knows they're about to do something she's not going to like.

As a matter of fact, when the doctor does insert the needle - after what seems like an eternity of fuss and screams and fights to get her to cooperate - the little girl lets out a muffled high-pitched cry. Something snaps inside of Donna. They shouldn't allow you to hear sounds like that one get out a person you actually made and grew inside of you. More so, if they're doing that for something this huge. It's like a strange attachment disorder, but Donna thinks it's what everyone just calls motherhood.

They drop the kid off to Mike and Rachel's place, who have been informed just days before of the real deal. Maybe at first Rachel had been a little offended that her best friend didn't let her in about this sooner, but, other than that, the couple has been nothing if not supportive. They are going to keep their goddaughter occupied while Donna and Harvey go back to the clinic to be informed with Stephen about the outcome.

Harvey has contacts even in the medical field, and has used the friendship with one of the wealthy man he's met at a gala a couple of years ago to get the results in a few hours. The wait is the last thing they should add to the load.

He taps his leg furiously on the ground, and both of them are definitely sure this is the most difficult thing they've ever have had to do in their entire existence.

But it's still them, Harvey and Donna - the dream team - and if they can overcome that, they can overcome everything.

"If it comes out negative, then we'll love you even more. Because then we'll know you've been given us all of yourself indistinctly and unreservedly. And Penelope is smart like you, she's going to remember who was the one to help her tie her shoes and who was the one to take care of her when she was sick." She tells him before getting in the consultation room. "Every time there's a crisis, you don't freeze, you move forward, and that's what I've always admired of you. Don't stop now. Have faith. You'll always be her dad."

Harvey takes her hand and gets ready to conquer the world. They brush off Stephen, not bothering to acknowledge his presence in the room where the doctors talks them through the results. Harvey's hand clasped into Donna's, holding onto dear life.

Just have faith.

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Mike and Rachel are playing with Penelope, fully concentrated in a drawing contest, when their heads shoot up and their eyes exchange a knowing look at the sound of the doorbell.

They drop everything and rush to the door. Donna and Harvey are there, with answers, and if they're not good ones, they're seriously afraid they won't survive another scene like Harvey hugging Penelope goodbye a couple of hours ago. Him crushing her fragile figure - even if he seemed to be the most fragile one - in what looked like their last interaction. Anguish corrodes them as they open the door.

Time's up.

End of the game.

So, turns out it was just a dream, and they're stronger than ever. I'm sorry I'm leaving you with another cliffhanger, you can hate me as much as you want, but it was for the best and this is the last one ever anyways. Now I'm sad. Please, do tell what you think and brace yourself for the last chapter. After all, cope with my need of attention just one last time.