Wow, so many follows/ favs and reviews! Quintaocastro, Elizadoomuch, Jablonaaa, Cadalways, DonnaSpecter, Loverandafighter, Mar, EmMNarang2513, harvspecter, carebearmaxi, Meeshmo, DarveyUK, Katie, Specterbowie, Lafantomette, Yel, Tvseriesislife and guest thank you so much for your reviews, really made my day/week. I love reading your thoughts so much!

As promised here's the next chapter. I really hope you'll like it and maybe share your thoughts? x

Chapter 7: Home

To say this evening is awkward is an understatement. He doesn't really know how to look at the woman he's supposed to live with now. He's heard the stories she's told him earlier this day. He has seen the pictures, of them, but he doesn't remember.

He doesn't remember her and that's what makes it so difficult. Because right now he can't give her what she really needs. Him, Harvey Specter, the way he used to be. Her husband.

"So uhm," Donna mumbles as she's standing in the door opening wearing one of his old shirts, "where do you want to sleep tonight?" He looks at her, taking in her long legs, her hair and he can't help but smile at the attractive woman in front of him, the smirk smile he's giving her making her almost forget that it's not her Harvey anymore.

He absentmindedly traces her curves, his eyes fixating on the letters of the t shirt she's wearing. "You went to Harvard too?" he asks instead of answering her question about where he wants to sleep. Staying with Marcus had been easier in that way, he just had his own room. There he hadn't been the husband, there he didn't have to think about where he'd go to sleep. If he was supposed to share the bed with her.

She looks at the shirt she's wearing. His shirt. He can hear he swallowing. "No," she whispers, "it is yours. It's your shirt."

He looks away then, not willing to see the tears he knows are forming in her eyes again. "I'm sorry," he mumbles as he gets up, finding it too hard to be there to comfort her, yet the reason for her tears. "Uhm ... I'll just uhm…" he points at the couch, his hand reaching for a blanket.

"Ooh," she sighs turning away, "okay."

.

He turns around again, the leather couch not that comfortable as he hoped it to be. He wonders if it was a piece of furniture he picked out or if she did. He remembers Marcus telling him she moved into his apartment, that most of the stuff there was his, but that Donna made some definite changes. The fact that it isn't that comfortable makes conclude him that it was one of his.

But it's not why he's still awake. It's the sound coming from the direction of the bedroom. It are soft sobs and he knows she's crying. He also knows she's crying because of him, he just wishes he'd know who she was. Who she really was. More than just her name, that she works for him and that they're married.

Hour after hour strikes by sleep never overcoming him and he knows she hasn't fallen asleep either. The continuous sobbing giving her away. He turns on his back, going over the options in his mind. How he remembers himself to behave in such a situation vs. what he assumes to have been his behaviour. He hears Marcus' words again.

"Donna, needs you.'"

He lets out a deep breath as he pushes away the blanket away. Tiptoeing to the bedroom. Softly knocking on the door, but when she doesn't answer he steps inside. She doesn't even look up, her face buried in her pillow. Her breathing mingled with her sobs the only thing he hears.

He swallows, the sight of the woman crying making him feel angry. Angry at himself. He slowly walks towards her, sitting down next to her on the bed. Just like she was sitting next to him when he woke up in the hospital. He lets his hand remove the auburn locks that cover her face. "Don't cry," his voice shaky but soft, the sound of his voice enough to make her gasp for air, looking up at him.

"I can't help it," she presses her lips together, "I… I missed you so much and now," she pauses, temporarily swallowing in the words on her tongue. She knows it's not fair to blame him for this, because it's not his fault. At all. But it's not hers either. It's just not fair.

"Now that you're finally here... I .. I just-"

He lets his hand run past her cheek, trying to comfort the woman in front of him. "Is there anything I could do?" he whispers, his eyes not leaving her for a second, "I mean what did I use to do to help you calm down? Did I used do that?"

She swallows, closing her watery eyes for a second. "You would hold me," she looks at him, "just hold me and tell me everything will be fine."

He swallows nodding at her, as he gets up.

"You don't have to," she mumbles, realizing how hard this must be for him too. Ignoring her words, he walks around the bed, sliding under the covers next to her. He hesitates for a second, the Harvey Specter he remembers to be is just a womanizer, but his brother's words are on repeat in his head.

"Donna needs you now, they need you."

He moves himself closer to her, gently wrapping his arm around her stomach and he feels her instantly relax in his arms. Her response to his touch making him feel something he didn't know he was capable of. He can only imagine the changes he's been through in the past fifteen years, as he instinctively moves his head a bit closer to her. His nose nearly buried in her hair, feeling intoxicated by a scent he can't place but feels familiar non the less.

She feels her breath becoming more regular, following his pattern, like he'd always say: "Breath with me," she doesn't hear him say the words now, but somehow she can't shake the idea that her Harvey is still somewhere in there.

His fingers absent mindedly drawing abstract shapes on her baby bump. Just like he'd always done before she lost him.

.

She sits down next to him on the black leather couch. Somehow both of them on exactly their side, she brushes it off as a coincidence, what else could it be? "I brought you orange juice and a bagel with cream cheese," she whispers, but he doesn't answer.

His head is hanging low, lost in thought. Going over all the things Marcus and Donna have told him these past days. She notices how he's staring at his hands, his fingers running over the mark left by his wedding ring. "Harvey," she whispers as she waits for him to look at her. Bringing her hands behind her neck and undoes the clasp of her necklace. She holds it in front of him, his eyes immediately going to the ring that's hanging on it.

"This is your ring," she places it in his hand. Moving the golden object between his fingers, he reads the inscription. 'Forever yours, Donna' he swallows looking at her.

"Obviously I've been very much in love with you," he states looking at the ring again. His words making her smile. "Yes," she answers, "you are .. Or were," she corrects herself, "and I loved... Still love you," she adds looking away herself now too. He lets out a sigh, wishing he could say the same.

He knows she's special, she's something different, but love?

"You said we met fifteen years ago," the ring still between his fingers. Is he supposed to put it on? Technically he's still married to her, but is it fair? Is it fair towards her to put it on? Would she want him to? "How long have we been together?"

She lets her eyes fall down once more. "Little over eighteen months ago," she tells him, "we got married half a year ago." He frowns, not sure he understands why it had taken them that long if they met fifteen years ago. How could they've only gotten together so recently? "So in all those years we had just gotten together?"

She doesn't answer but he takes it as a yes. "I'm sorry," he mumbles his hand on her knee, "obviously I didn't know what I was missing."

Donna looks down to his hand on her knee. It's the smallest gesture, but it isn't something he would have done all those years ago. The tension between them had always been too much, the touches shared between one another becoming less and less ever since the.. "The other time," she whispers barely audible.

He doesn't even know about the other time.

Her left hand covers his and she squeezes it briefly, his last words reminding her of that conversation she once had with Dr. Agard. She never saw the woman again, not even herself after the accident. "It's okay," a small smile on her lips as she looks at him. With the ring in the palm of his left hand he brings his hand towards her.

"Do you.. Do want me to wear it?"

She feels her chest tighten, her breathing faltering for a few seconds. "Uhm," she hadn't expected him to say this. Not that she had anticipated anything in particular, but this still surprised her. "Uhm," she's shaking her head, trying to clear her mind. "Only if you want to," she decides then, her eyes still fixed on the ring. Suddenly afraid to look at him, to hear the answer.

He swallows, hoping she would have told him what to do. "I uhm.." he brings her right hand to cover his hand with the ring. "I don't know if it would be fair, to you," he looks at her, "both I mean. To not wear it or to do.. it just.. I don't know if –"

"Whenever you're ready," she whispers, taking the ring from his hand. Putting it back on the necklace. "I'll keep it for you," she adds, her hands shaking a visible reaction to the decision she just made, she's struggling with the clasp behind her neck. "Could you?" she turns around and he nods.

Lifting her hair, he's surprised by that familiar smell he can't place again and he smiles softly. Placing her auburn locks over her shoulder, before he takes the delicate chain from her, closing it behind her neck. "Perfect," she hears his mumble and for the briefest moment it takes her back to all the times he'd closed the zipper of one of her dresses.

Or unzipped her for that matter, all the times his hands brushed through her hair. All the times she felt his warm breath tickle her skin, his lips in her neck as he whispered that word. "Perfect."

"Donna," he calls her name, waking her from her thoughts again. She gradually turns to face him again, still feeling her heartbeat in her chest from that tiny and nearly insignificant moment they just shared. His hand brushing past hers as he speaks. "I want you to tell me almost everything."

"Almost?"

"Yes. Almost," he confirms pulling his hand back, before it gets balled into a fist. "I want you to leave out really small things, just a few things only you and I would know," he looks at her not sure if he'll actually be able to deliver this promise.

"In case.. In case I might remember, so I could prove it."

.

.

He turns around in his desk chair, taking in the Manhattan skyline from this height. After two and a half weeks of sitting at home, he finally managed to convince her he's ready for work again. His other home. And it wasn't like he had nothing to do, there were so many things to find out about himself. About them, but somehow he felt bored. As if something was missing.

She only agreed to let him go when he argued that being a lawyer is something he remembers being and going to work again might actually be a positive signal for him. For them. She'd still be there with him every second. Only twelve feet away from his desk.

He lets his eyes roam over all the awards in the window sill again. The basketballs, the pictures. This is what he did. This is what he was good at and his signature smirk fell on his lips as he concludes that today was a good day. A hectic, but good day. He didn't meet any of his clients yet. Not only Donna and Marcus had told him not to, but even Jessica had come by to check he wouldn't do anything stupid. He did meet his associates. He can't remember them either, but they seem to be a lovely couple.

"Donna," he walks up to her cubicle, his elbows leaning on the edge as she looks at him surprised. "No intercom but you walking up to me?" she teases him, the confused look on his face pulling her back to the current situation. "Ooh," she mumbles, "Uhm.. usually.. you.. uhm, you'd use the intercom if you need me to do something."

He's lost in thought for a few seconds, mentally taking a note that he would change that from now on. That he'd walk towards her more often if he needed something. "Harvey," he shakes his head looking at her again as he clears his throat, leaning on his elbows again.

"I was thinking.."

"Were you?" a perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised at him.

"Very funny," he rolls his eyes not used to the witty comebacks of this woman, but he likes it. "I thought, maybe we could grab dinner tonight? Celebrate –"

"Celebrate what?" her head crooked, her eyes locking with his and he loses his words again. "Uhm.. ," he wishes he could say something about him remembering her, but he can't. "Celebrate that we work together again?" it's a compromise, but his words make her smile and he takes that as something positive. "Sounds good," she whispers making him nod as he gets on his feet again. "Good."

"Donna," he turns around again, "do you … do you know a good restaurant?" he looks down, his hands buried in his pockets, feeling weird about asking his wife out for dinner and then not even knowing where to go. "You know, uhm… because the restaurants I remember probably don't even exist anymore," he tries to make a joke out of this embarrassing situation, but for her it was exactly how it had always been between them. "I'll take care of it," she smiles at him.

.

He looks around the restaurant. The lights are dimmed, warm colours surrounding them just like the soft music playing in the background. Couples having dinner at every table around them, his eyes falling back on Donna again. He watches her for a second, the way she smiles. The way she looks over her right shoulder as if she's afraid to look at him, but her eyes are telling another story as his meet hers once more.

"So, we used to go here for dinner?" his hand tapping on the table as he looks at the menu again. "Yes, every year on august 5th. To celebrate the day I came to work for you," she smiles and he nods looking around again. His eyebrows in a frown as he faces her again.

"So we had dinner here every year on the exact same day," he repeats out loud, trying to make sense of her words and the situation they're in. "Candle lights everywhere, just you and me amongst all these other couples?"

"Yep," she nods, biting her lip. "And you're sure it was just work? Never an actual date?" he sees her shaking her head. He lets out a sigh, his mind still going over the possible why's as for it was always just work between them. "Maybe I was afraid of risking what we had?" he comments then and he sees her nod, acknowledging his words.

"Well," she closes her eyes for a second thinking about it, "there was this one time –" her sentence interrupted as a waiter stops next to their table. Donna's head turning to face the young man, while Harvey keeps looking at the menu in his hands.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the man speaks, "my name is Mitchell and I'll be your waiter for tonight," Donna's eyes big she looks back to Harvey as she hears him sigh loudly. His face in a frown and his jaw clenched, but he doesn't speak. "Have you made your decision yet?"

"Uhm.." she looks at Harvey for a second, who's still frowning at the menu and she figures it's either because he doesn't remember what his favourite dish is or because the waiter's name is Mitchell, but he couldn't know that either. Could he?

"We'll both take the slow roasted lamb," she tells the man before facing Harvey again. "It's your favourite."

.

.

A tumbler with two fingers of the amber liquid resting in his hand, he stares at the burning fireplace in the near distance. His legs placed on the couch, crossed at the ankles, the photo album opened on his lap as he lets out a deep breath. His eyes briefly falling on their wedding picture again. He's been looking at the pictures for nearly two months now, but things are still a blur.

He thinks about the conversation he had earlier that day with Marcus. Him telling the things he's learned so far. His story for a large part containing all the details she's told him, some other things he discovered on his own by reading old letters and notes and some things slipping into his story because he assumed them to be that way.

He really thought he was doing a great job, but the amount of times Marcus had to correct something in that story indicating otherwise. He wasn't there yet. Most things still unknown.

Lifting his head from the album, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom. Their bedroom. He watches her for a few seconds as she's standing in front of the mirror. A white dress hugging her every curve, perfectly accentuating the growing baby bump. Her hand moving over her belly to her hair, he watches her hands bringing her auburn lock together.

"Don't," he mumbles out loud, still looking at her as she turns to face him. A playful smile on her lips, she raises an eyebrow waiting for an explanation. "I.. I like your hair down," he tells her, his words barely pronounced as he sees her remove her own hands again. The red locks falling over her shoulders again. The smile she's giving him making him swallow and he looks away, breaking their eye contact again.

She smiles, looking away herself too as she moves towards him. Walking around the couch, she sits down on the arm rest he's leaning against. Her hand squeezing his shoulder as she watches him look through their wedding album.

His right hand covers hers on his shoulder as he tilts his head backwards a bit. A smile on his face again as he looks at her again. He's not sure what he's doing, grabbing her hand or what this all means for that matter, but it feels right.

"Donna?" he whispers shifting a bit, so he can look at her better. Their hands untangling again as he leans forward, placing the glass of scotch on the table, before he leans against the backrest again. "Did I have a nickname for you?" he looks to his left.

She looks at him, folding her hands in her lap, thinking about an answer. "Did I call you Red?" he mumbles, it's the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems fitting. He looks around again, his eyes falling on the fire place.. "or fire?"

She lets out a laugh. "Red sometimes, but mostly just Donna," she smiles as he repeats her name in a few different tones. "What were you doing?" she points at the album. Harvey turns over another page, "just looking again. Seeing if there's anything I.. I remember."

She taps his shoulder, mumbling a move over as she slides down next to him. Pulling half of the album on her lap as she starts telling him about their day, page by page more details he could have never imagined by just looking at the pictures. She turns another page around, seeing a picture of them at the altar. "You had the biggest smile when I walked down the aisle," she whispers, "at first you still looked to the ground, but as soon as I turned to corner you looked up. And I know everyone else in the room did the same, but all I saw was you and this big Cheshire cat smile on your face."

He looks to her from the side of his eyes, how she's smiling at the pictures in front of them, but her eyes watery. One tear dropping over her right cheek and he brings his left hand towards her. His thumb wiping it away, "you looked beautiful."

"Thanks," she let her head rest against his hand for a while, before he let his hand brush over her cheek and move over her shoulder. Pulling her head against his chest as he just holds her. His lips pressing a kiss on top of her head, asking her to tell more about their wedding day.

Page after page he listens to her words, making it sound so perfect and until now every day with her had been close to that. Perfect. He could only agree that their wedding day organised by her must have been exactly that.

He recognizes the paper that's stuck between the pages, it's the sonogram. He lifts it up and he turns it around, his fingers moving over the picture. A comfortable silence falls between them as both of them just look at the image. Her eyes dropping to her belly as she feels the baby moving around.

Donna grabs his hand, rapidly moving it to her stomach. Her eyes not leaving him as she sees how he's in complete awe. That same smile returning on his face she had just described seeing when they got married.

"Wow," the only word he's able to pronounce as the kicking stops, his eyes meeting hers. Their heads only inches apart, neither of them speak as they breath in sync. Momentarily glancing at her lips, he swallows looking away again.

"How far along are you now?" he breathes, using words to break the tension between them. "Six months now," closing her eyes for a moment to recover from whatever she expected to have happened just now. "A girl, right?" he picks up the sonogram again. "Have you thought about a name yet?"

"No," she admits, "I really wanted to think about that with you."