HOME AGAIN By Atheniandream
CHAPTER 2
The time long after...the other time.
'Few days previous'
He's been staring out of the window for an hour; all staff long gone and past their fifteen hour Friday workday. Hour number seventeen passes without so much as a blink on his end.
He should be getting home. Hell, he even wanted to, but Layla would be asleep and Scottie would be asking questions that he had no inclination to answer. It was better just to sneak into the house and crawl into bed without questions these days.
"You're late."
He hears her warming tone as she glides into his office; spying her nude heels and red hair until something else catches; something igniting his mood somewhat.
He swivels his chair, placing his scotch down at the sight of her; clad head to toe in emerald green sheer fabric that loops at the bust, hugging every curve of her body as it grazes above the knee in favour of her usual nude peep toes. Her hair dances on her shoulder in a long wave, and he's sure his mouth is open when she stares at him like his pants are unzipped.
"You're…. well. Bonus?" He asks, changing the subject somewhat as he resists the urge to clear his throat and change position in the thigh clenching chair of his.
"Gucci, actually. And...Stuart. Anniversary gift." She answers, her expression faltering.
They'd had a talk a while back, before babies and weddings and changes. About how they were...'happy' with their situation. Their 'close but not too close' proximity. It fitted them. Fitted their place in each other's lives. He'd meant it when he'd agreed on it. Back then, he hadn't wanted more.
But then babies had happened and marriages had lasted and…
"How many years has it…"
"Two." She answers, sensing the topic with a smile.
"Right. So..anywhere nice?"
"Actually yes...but he's going to be late. Very...late." She says with an eye roll. It figures.
"No rest for a Doctor, huh?" He asks. He's not sure why he hates Doctors. He's pretty sure it was before she married one, but somehow they annoy him more these days.
"Yeah. I thought we were the unsociable ones," She smiles ruefully.
"Scotch?" He offers, wiggling the tumbler in his hands as bait.
"Always." She accepts, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she moves to perch on the leather sofa.
He stands up, taking a glass from the table to pour a double measure for her. He stands above her as she takes the glass, narrowing her eyes at him as if there's a possibility he roofied it, before taking a long, languid sip. He watches as her throat pumps the liquid and she leans her head back, lost in the sensation.
It was stupid to allow himself the luxury of watching her. He straightens, and before she has time to think let alone even comment, he slumps unceremoniously onto the couch next to her, leaning his arm against the headrest behind her and adjusts his tie. It's a natural gesture between them, but some how, on this evening of all evenings, she's watching him with suspicious eyes.
She always was the smarter one out of the two of them...
"What?" He says, almost defensively, but with the warmth of scotch seeping through the cracks.
"What are you still doing here, Harvey?" She asks, balancing her glass on the armrest. "Shouldn't you be….home?"
There is no accusation in her voice when she asks. The thought of it plays against the walls of his head for a while. She watches, sipping the warming liquid. Waiting patiently, as she seems to a lot these days.
"Honestly?" He offers.
"Depends how honest." She warns good naturedly. She's taken to doing that as well, lately. Warning him of things. Of boundaries.
"It doesn't feel like home there,"
He watches her digest the information slowly, her eyes drifting to the view outside as she sips the scotch.
"Makes sense. I always knew you were married to the job, Harvey."
"But you weren't…?" He asks, his interest piquing.
She frowns, as if he's missed the point and hit the nail all at once.
"I have to live my life, Harvey," She breathes.
He's heard those words before. They shut him down every time before this one.
Somehow this time feels... different. Altered, and not by alcoholic means.
"I don't have the luxury." She finishes.
"If I had never asked you to come here. Would we have…?"
"You can't ask me that," She says immediately, quietly.
"Why not?"
"I don't regret coming here, Harvey,"
He finds himself nodding, if only to abate the need to sneer at her.
He regrets it. And it's been picking at him. For a while now, it seems.
"Do you?" She asks, picking up on the discrepancy.
He looks at her for a moment, his eyes taking in her features; how her hair tumbles down one side of her neck, and how she tilts her head, as if she's shielding herself from the inevitable punch of words.
"What if I say 'yes'?" He asks, the words coming out in a steady river of sound.
"Harvey," She frowns, passing it off as absurd as she looks away from him.
"I'm serious. What if I say yes? What if I...regretted it?"
"I'm married and you're," She defends, straightening at the verbal assault.
"Donna." He presses.
"You're drunk." She accuses, narrowing her gaze at him.
"No...actually, I'm very lucid. Think it's the dress." He half-jokes.
"I'm not in love with you any more, Harvey." She fires at him.
There's those words again. Except different this time. It almost knocks him down.
...Any more...
He knew her words were bullshit the first time she said them. Those words, so asinine. In fact, the only stupid words she's ever really said to him. More so with the additional 'Anymore'
"Who said this was about you?" He fires back, something bitter-tinged and frustrated.
"Of course. It's never NOT about you. Look, I should," She starts, shuffling to a stand and grabbing for her purse. He knows that he's unnerved her, because she starts to move and seems to be taking the glass with her. He moves to blocks the door, his fingers moving around the glass. Their fingertips touch minutely, electrically.
"I screwed it up. Didn't I? Back then, I," He pauses, his fingers reaching to wrap around hers. He watches her shiver ever so slightly at the contact. It's almost unrealistic that they haven't touched even hands in years. Only hers on fabric or his with a file to her shoulder. "I thought I would feel...different. Or indifferent. But im not, I'm-"
"Harvey," She interrupts, an almost whisper on her moist lips. He can't work out if it's to encourage or discourage him. He supposes it doesn't matter, and tries to loosen her grip free of the glass. Her face hardens suddenly, as if it's the only thing in the world stopping him from making a move.
It isn't.
Before she can kick him in the groin - and she has to the lesser men of her past - his lips press against hers softly, just at the corner of her mouth and the fruity lipgloss she's wearing. He angles her head slightly, his tongue slipping between her shocked expression and tasting the mint she must have had in the bathroom and how it swirls between the slight Macallan notes on her own tongue. He thinks for a second that he's played it all wrong when she's not responding, and then she opens her mouth just enough kiss him fully, and re-assuredly back. Her free hand - almost free save for the thin purse containing her cards and phone - instinctively runs along the nape of his neck, stopping just below the ear as his own hand traces a pattern on her bare back, every kiss growing with a power that multiplies itself in moments after the moment before it.
The vibrating phone on his shoulder halts them both with a resounding thud.
She's panting slightly, and still holding onto the scotch glass for dear life.
"Stuart." She says.
When the words hit, cutting through the haze, they have him ramrod straight, unable to move or even make a decision, just long enough for her to leave him standing there alone.
Again he thinks, how he played it all wrong.
Every one of the thirteen years between them...
Monday - Lunchtime. Afternoon after the morning.
He has a smirk waiting for her when she comes stalking into the Tailors, and walks into his private fitting room. She stops in front of him with a look of disgust and her hands planted firmly on her hips. She'd look formidable if he wasn't picturing her stripped down to her negligee and moaning in his ear.
"Now you're acting like a jerk. Before, you screw up. Then you made a decision. Now...you're just being a jerk."
"Donna," He starts, the humour of her attitude painting the intention in his puppy-dog like expression.
"Don't Donna me. I...I don't know you anymore! I don't wanna work for this you. This you is a jerk." She says, looking at him pointedly. The words are harsh, but he knows her well enough to know that she's telling him off more than giving him ultimatum. He catches her hand.
He's getting bold in his old age. She stops, slowly looking at him with only absurdness at his action.
"I'm sorry. I know...I shouldn't have...done what I did. But I...I want things to change. I can't have them stay the same way. Can you?"
"Contrary to the past few days, I was happy… Harvey. Genuinely happy."
"He's not me, Donna." He says. She looks at him with wide eyes, rushing his delivery. "And she's not you."
"Since when has this been a problem?" She asks, flapping her arms at her sides, her neck jutting out slightly.
"Since I don't wanna wait anymore."
The words annoy her immediately. She rolls her eyes, swaying away from his touch. Then a thought occurs to her as she makes a small lap of a circle in front of him.
"Hypothetically. You want this to work. One: we still work twelve feet away from each other. Who says I want to go home with you every night after spending six days a week with you?"
"I wanna wake up with you in my bed every morning. It's enough."
"Harvey…" She chides, swallowing.
"I mean it."
"Fine. Two: You end things with," She nods for emphasis, leaving out the name they both know is his other half. "Are you willing to risk your little girl's happiness on this? To risk losing her? I know you don't want to lose her."
"And I know you only met your husband after I told you about her," He says.
They both know it's the truth.
"That's beside the point, Harvey."
"I think it's on point. You only moved on, because you thought that that was gonna be it for me,"
"No," She objects, her voice rising. "I knew that that little girl, would mean more to you than you could ever realise."
"And she always will. But, that doesn't change the fact that I need you."
"And you have me." She says, exasperated.
"Not the way I want. Shit, you think I want you on the side? Is that it? You'd think I'd be happy with that? With making you into that?" His temper starts to fray, the frustration setting in. Channelling through the brick wall was never going to be easy, but hell, he didn't expect it to be this hard. "Do you really think that little of me?"
"Of course not." She replies, her eyes rolling once more.
"Well how it was and how it is isn't working anymore,"
"Which brings me to point number three. Scandal."
"No one has to know what's going on." He says deftly. None of this is anyone else's business.
"But they will. The rumour mill. The papers. Scottie…" She whispers the last word.
"She would never…"
"She might. This is worth that, Harvey. You know she's not good at getting hurt." She says bluntly.
"She's not the only one." He says, the remembrance of Stephen fresh even after so many years.
But she's right, and he hates the fact. He wants to take his kid and her and just run out of the city.
But he loves the city. And so does she and it would ruin his kid to take her away from her mother.
Rock and a hard place weren't even close...
"So what's it gonna be?" She asks, her hands on her hips.
He's resolute then. the cogs in his mind turning.
He's going to prove her wrong some day. Some day soon, if he can help it.
He smooths the side of her hair with his hand, his thumb catching the corner of her mouth.
"I love you." He says, the sharp lines on his face lessening.
"I'm not saying it back." She warns softly.
Her reply makes his insides smile. She's a constant struggle.
"That's not why I'm saying it." He says pointedly.
She sighs, breathing out, the effort of such seeming arduous.
"We need to...step back, Harvey."
"No. Donna," He fires, a panic lifting briefly through his chest.
"Its the right thing to do." She says tenderly. It's odd, tenderness coming out of her mouth. She's seldom tender these days. "We have to do it right."
"There's no right way." He says, the panic bunching in his chest.
"There's has to be. Harvey, promise me you'll just… give me a day to...think. About everything?" She asks.
"You have," He looks at his watch with mirth. "23 hours."
"Twenty-seven hours." She bargains, eyes narrowing at the challenge.
"Twenty-one hours." He replies. He's not giving her any rope. He knows how she'll tie them both in knots given half the chance...
"Twenty-four." She reasons.
"...Okay, Deal." He finally accepts.
He watches as she hides a smile and possibly the rising need to hit him.
"Now, lets get you that Tux?" She offers, pulling at his tie. "And don't you even think about groping."
"I can't promise that." He says.
"Harvey…" She warns.
He feels a sharper hold on his tie.
"No groping," He finally agrees through gritted teeth. "But I'm sure as hell gonna think about it."
"Okay." She smiles softly. "I can deal with ignoring that."
Two and a half Years previous.
She's almost dozing on her sofa when her cellphone rings. She doesn't even bother looking at the receiver to know who it is.
"It's late, Harvey." She says down the phone.
"Donna. I need to talk."
Her attention piques at the intensity in his tone.
"It's Saturday." She points out, irked.
"I'm…" His words disappear when her attention is halted by a knock at the door. She stands up, feeling heavy as she pads up to the door, turning the handle.
"Standing outside my door." She says ironically into the receiver, before flipping the phone shut.
He's stressed, on edge even for him. He looks scared shitless. "What's wrong?" She asks.
"Can I come in?" He asks. She can tell by his posture that he's probably not going to take 'no' as a valid answer.
"Depends what for."
He eyes her for a second, on the precipice of something, before he crosses the threshold of her apartment.
"Scottie's pregnant."
The words fall like a bag of hot coal at her feet.
"I…" She starts. It's got to be the first time she's ever been lost for words.
"Donna?" He asks, frowning a the obvious chasm of silence surrounding her.
"Wow… that was. Quick; and yet seemingly a long time coming?" She frowns, her mouth overtaking where her brain can't really register right now.
A moment of held intention stretches out between them both, her guarded face looking at his and his wide eyed shock boring into hers.
"How do you feel about it?" She asks him. It takes the edge off of her having to digest it for a moment. She watches as he sits down on her couch, and moves to join him.
"I don't know, I just. We never talked about it. It was an accident. But,"
"Does it feel like a happy one?"
"I'm not sure…I never pictured Scottie as a mother." He says, a strange laugh coming out.
"None of us did Harvey, but… it's kind of,"
"What?"
She can't believe that she's even saying the words, so rational and appropriate.
"about time."
"You think?" He asks, eyes interested.
"Harvey; if you were ever going to have someone be the mother of your children; then surely it would be her?" Her stomach feels like it's hit the floor even with her mouth running on.
"Donna," He shakes his head, his mouth tightening at her words. The gesture in and of itself rises a nervous jig in her stomach.
"Harvey. This is a good thing." She says, trying at reassurance.
"Are you sure?" He asks, still not convinced.
She lets out a held breath. "Yes."
"Donna, I," He starts again. The mere thought that there are more words he has to say makes her feel giddy.
"It's a good thing," She presses, cutting him off. "You need to settle down, Harvey."
He looks at her like she's saying something completely different. But she refuses to clarify such a thing.
"Okay." He finally says, slowly moving up to standing with a frown taking up refuge between his eyebrows. She follows him to the door, the numbness starting to set in her fingers as hers replace his on the doorjamb.
He looks at her for just a second longer than usual. Just a second.
"Harvey," She says, catching him before he turns to leave.
"What?"
"Congratulations." She says, the effort to smile seeming too heavy in the moment.
"Thanks." He nods slightly. "Goodnight Donna."
"Bye." She says, and closes the door.
She resists the urge to call Rachel until exhaustion finally takes over in releasing her and lulls her to sleep.
When she wakes up, all she remembers is crying in her dream.
It's ten times as horrifying than the reality of such a thing.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!
As someone wise on Tumblr recently said, tomorrow is the first day of a 365-page book.
Make it a good one.
A~