NOTES: I wrote the Donna/Louis interchanged and the Pretty Woman quote BEFORE the ep aired yesterday. lol. Hope you enjoy & Thanks again to all the encouragement to continue! A-
Home Again
Chapter 6
'The Bends'
Unknown
Talk to Unknown
Ever
Last forever
Still it's a shock,
To your soft side
Summer moon
Catch your shut-eye
In your room
In my room
Louder
Lips speak louder
Better
Back together
~ 'Soft Shock' By Yeah Yeah Yeahs
She's almost terrified of going to Dinner.
She's been caught out in a lie without so much as a fight, and unfortunately she actually cares about hurting this person. It's unnerving to say the least…
If she's truly honest with herself then she would rather forego the entire ordeal. But she's stuck; between her husband and an oncoming scandal. A Scandal that her husband holds in his very hands, all behind her back.
When the taxi cab arrives at the venue, she's resolute then.
She's going to be honest with him. It's the only card she has left to play.
She fishes her phone out of her purse, mumbling her address to the cab driver to take her home.
She texts him. Granted, it's a low blow, but the words read better than she can convince at this point.
'We need to talk. Now. Cancel Dinner and meet me at home.'
The entire journey she's thinking through everything. How it's now or never. She can't sit through a meal with a man who's threatened her… Boss, and yet is acting to her like everything's normal.
They are the worst kinds of bad.
She screwed up, but she's good at being strong, at facing things when they concern her.
The only time she's ever failed at that was with the…
But this isn't a Memo.
It's her life.
Her life's work.
And regardless of the choices that Harvey may or may not make in his own relationship, she has to be honest.
No more lies…
When she gets to their apartment, the lights are off, she turns them on, immediately going to the wine rack for some liquid blood red courage, pouring two glasses out of habit and perching on the breakfast counter.
She has about five minutes of suspended breath and a glass and a half of wine before the front door shuts with a thud.
He looks pissed. An unknown kind of pissed. He spies her then, his chin lifting as he shrugs off his coat, placing it lazily on the coat rack and walking poker straight towards her.
"Hey," She says quietly, pushing the glass of wine across the counter towards him.
"What's going on?" He asks, his eyes narrowing against the slight rush of adrenaline in his face.
"We need to talk." She says, sternly.
"Couldn't we have done this at the restaurant?" He asks, taking a sip of his own wine.
In the rush of moment she remembers why she loved him in the first place. How she let that take over..
He was...thoughtful. Caring. Considerate. All the things that Harvey hadn't been for so long.
How strange that both tables turned at the exact same moment.
"No. Not for this. How was work?" She asks, her voice level.
"Just get to the point, Donna." He says then, his voice hard edged, cold even.
The pretending didn't last very long, it appears…
"Okay. I've been...sleeping with Harvey. And I think you know that; because he told me about yesterday."
He steps back then, wincing slightly, an abrupt emotion that she can't quite pin point.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He says then, the held tension flurrying out into streaks of anger.
He didn't...
"You didn't know," She pauses, the penny dropping, her mouth falling open. Since when did she fall behind the eight-ball?
"No, I didn't know. For sure. I suspected, and thought that it would at least stop anything that could happen," He pauses, the anger rising in him as a sharp laugh threatens his lips. "How long Donna?"
She closes her eyes then, the realisation of her entire fuck up of a presumption rearing it's ugly head.
"Donna. WHEN?" He barks.
"Two weeks," She mumbles, looking at her wine.
"So, while we've been,"
"Only once." She says, her voice speeding up just minutely. "I didn't want to tell you then. I know that I should have."
"You're damn right you should have!" He says, the tension seeping out of him in a slash of his arm.
"Stuart. I fucked up. I know"
"You?" He sneers then, the irony of her statement. "You're damn right you fucked up! He has a kid, Donna?" He says, whipping around from her, disgust etched on his features. "You know… I always knew that you were his little fucking whore from the moment that I-"
"Hey!" She says, rising from her seat then. "You don't get to call me that just because I've hurt you. You hear me?" She says, staying her ground as they balance between the island counter top, like her very own immovable shield.
"Then you tell me what you are, huh? TELL ME." He shouts, moving around towards her then.
"I'm somebody who fell in love with a man a long time ago," She says, moving out into the kitchen. "And…I buried it, okay? I'm not proud of it."
"And what was I just… some… fucking distraction for you? A little bit of 'House' to take the edge off?"
"No, Stuart. I wanted to move on. I did. And I loved you. I do, now, I just…"
"Do you really think he's going to leave his partner and kid for you? If it's really been that long, then he has no intention of you ever being anything more than a little bit on the side."
"That has nothing to do with us." She counters, trying still to remain calm.
"How do you think that's going to look, you being the Assistant who fucks her Boss? No amount of expensive shoes and clothes are gonna wash that stench away."
"Stuart. This is about US. Leave him out of it. You're angry at me? Fine. I can take it. I screwed it up."
"You damn right you did. I loved you."
"I know. I know that. But I…" She's had enough then. "I can't do this to you any more. I'm sorry." She says. No good can come from this, she has to get out. To think. To...strategise. She takes her keys, pulling on her coat and bag and opening the door, darting out into the hall. She curses at the elevator and it's out of order sign, turning to the stairs.
A hand catches as her other hand contacts the rail, spinning her around.
"I meant what I said to him. You really want the whole of New York society to find out what you two have done? It'll kill his career. And it'll end yours."
"You wouldn't." She says, the hair standing on the back of her neck at the thought.
"Try me?" He says, almost spitting the words.
"Stuart…"
"When I'm through with the two you, you'll be the most unemployable whore in the city," He bites, the words acid and guttural, his eyes reddened by the inevitable pressure.
She slaps him then, hard. The hardest she's ever slapped anyone.
For a second he takes it, the fuchsia mark violently appearing on his pale skin, as she takes that second to turn around, but before she can put her foot to the step below he's spun her back around again, trying to grab at her neck as they struggle, her pushing against him.
It all happens in
one
fluid
motion,
Her pull and his push colliding awkwardly as she slips.
And one by one, alone, she falls.
She slips in and out of consciousness, sound and flashes, of people and strobes fall into her subconscious, all layered with a drowsiness, a vague recollection that she was somewhere and now she's not there any more. She remembers moaning, and struggling to breathe before she's lost again, in some middle place. Somewhere dark and removed from the world.
Harvey gets a call at Twelve o'clock, a strange number popping up on his caller I.D. He frowns, getting out of bed as Scottie rests beside him, still sleeping.
"Hello?"
"Is this Harvey Specter?" The voice asks.
"Speaking?"
"This is Amanda Cairne calling from Lennox Hill Hospital. It has you registered as second next of kin for Donna Knight?"
The Sir name has his words stuck a the back of his throat. "Uh...Yeah? What's going on?"
"She's been injured and her husband isn't answering his cell."
"I'll be there right away." He fires into the phone, ending the call abruptly.
A vivid mixture of anger and fear rises in his gut like he's on fire. He grabs his slacks and sweater, fumbling for his keys and wallet and not even thinking to tell Scottie in the process. He goes back for his wool coat, remembering the ice still outside.
His mind is a blank as he hails a cab, just the panic rising and crashing against his chest.
It's the first time he's felt anything like this since his father.
When he makes it to the Emergency room his shoulders are frozen in tension, asking at the desk for 'Donna Paulsen' before remembering the alien change of name. The nurse is kind and considerate, leading him through the halls. He tries harder than usual to take in all the information.
She's fallen down stairs.
She's stable.
Two Fractured Ribs.
Possible Concussion.
No Internal bleeding as of yet.
In and out of consciousness.
Alcohol in her system.
Husband...missing at the scene.
She's lucky...apparently.
He rounds the corner into a ward, his reaction paused.
The sight of her even being in here makes his stomach wrench.
But she looks fine. Still her... still Donna.
He's not quite sure why his hands are still shaking. It's odd, the presence of such a thing on a man like him.
The nurse catches him before he can go to her. "Uh.. Mr Specter? Due to where she was found, and the fact that she was alone...the police want to talk to her. At some point?" The woman presses.
"I'm also her Lawyer...I'll talk to her." He says, nodding.
"Thank you." The nurse says, leaving him.
He walks gently up to her bed, tapping the side of it as he nears the top. He brings a chair to the side of her bed, his fingers finding her hand and trying purposefully not to move it too much.
"Donna?" He says, his voice low, like an almost whisper.
He thinks it's a cheesy miracle when her eyes flutter open. She groans, her eyes moving to his, her brow furrowing at the evident pressure in her head.
"Hmm." She mumbles, the funny taste on her lips from her disjointed sleep. She looks at him, noticing who it is. "Ugh. What a shitty day…" She grumbles, her throat dry.
He laughs then. Oddly. Always one to catch him unaware. "I can see." His gaze darkens then, the impulse striking. "What'd he do to you?" He asks, his fingers stilling in hers.
"We had a fight. I went for the stairs… like all good heroines in movies…" She remarks dryly, half whimsy as she starts to move.
"Did he push you?" He asks, trying to keep the thick tension at bay.
"I'm...I'm not sure." She grumbles, trying to sit up, the pain striking at the right side of her chest. "I slapped him good and hard though." She remarks, scrambling to find that button clicker thing...
"Of course you did." He half-chuckles. Typical. She's always been a slapper as opposed to a puncher. Typical woman.
He runs his hand along one side of her face. The tension setting in one again. "He left you. Just...left you there… if I ever see that bastard again, I'll-"
"You'll do no such thing." She says, struggling to sit upright.
"You don't need to sit up, Donna," He groans, watching her.
"I'm sure I'm heavily medicated. I'll be fine." She says, wincing as the pain jars in her side.
"Donna," He argues, the frustration peaking then.
"This is what you'll do. You'll go to work, draft up a contract saying that he'll keep all information about the two of us, in exchange for me saying that I fell of my own accord down the stairs running after him, after we had a fight, and that if he does leak the information to anyone, that I'll go to the police with the truth. He won't like that on his unblemished Medical Record."
"You just fell down the stairs. How are you so lucid?" He remarks, glaring at her level of concentration.
"It's our 'out', Harvey. It's important." She winces then, leaning back on the pillow. "Plus, his career means as much to him as ours does to us."
"You think?"
"I know. Now get out of my and face and let me sleep," She says then, the humour leaning on her tired face.
"If he comes here, have them call me. Immediately. I'm your Lawyer, remember?" He orders, looking pointedly at her.
"He won't." She promises. "You'll have to go to his work tomorrow. He won't go back to the apartment. He's working at 9."
"I'll get him at 8." He says, his jaw sharpening.
"Good boy." She grins as he stands, their fingers lingering as he makes to leave.
He stops then, the thought playing on his mind.
"What?" She asks, watching him walk right back to her, her eyes following his as he draws closer. She thinks that he's going to kiss her in public, until he tilts his head, kissing her cheek. It's chaste. It's weirdly them, if only for a moment.
"I'll see you tomorrow? Call me...if you need to." He says, his large brown eyes liquid warmth.
"Get out of here," She brushes him off with a small smile, "I'm supposed to be resting."
He smirks then, nodding before he makes his way out, his hand delving in his pocket for his phone and speed-dialling Mike immediately. He hears a scramble and mumbling on the other end, before the voice of his Junior Partner comes onto the phone.
"Harvey? It's 3 am," Mike says down the receiver.
"Mike. Emergency, I need to you to get down to Lennox immediately. Donna's been in an accident. And call me when you get here." He says, gliding through the corridor.
He waits until he's in the car to call Scottie.
"Hello? Harvey, where the hell are you?" He hears as her voice shoots down his receiver.
"Scottie," He breathes, taking a moment. "Donna's been in an accident. I have to sort out some things. I didn't wanna wake you."
He hears her clear her throat on the other end, either that or groan distastefully. "She okay?"
"She'll be okay… I'll be home tonight, okay? I need to go to the office now."
"Fine. Love you." She says tiredly.
"I…" The words stick in his chest. "You too," Is all that he manages.
He realises then.
Once this day is over, and maybe even before.
It's time.
Time to confront it all.
The last thing Donna expects to see through her bleary eyes when she wakes up again is Mike's little boy face looking worriedly down at her. The absence of Rachel is an odd thing, besides her close friendship, and more so considering that they live together now.
"Hey you." He says, worry in his voice. Mike's never been good at pretending to be okay.
"Ugh. Where's Rachel?" She asks, clearing her throat.
"Getting Coffee. It's 3am for some of us," He remarks. When he catches her eye he's smiling.
"Harvey call you?" She asks, attempting once again to sit up through the loud protest of pain.
"Yeah. What's...what's going on, Donna?"
"What did Harvey tell you?" She asks, guarded.
"That things are going on? I'm aware that we're in public. Sort Of."
"Good. Then you'll be aware that I don't want to talk about it." She say then, patting her bed sheet around her.
"Okay." He says, unsure. "Whatever it is that you're both not telling me, he's told me to tell you he's sorting it out."
"Good." She smiles then, aware of the warmth that peels out of her at the thought of him. "Thank you...for being here, Mike. I assume that Harvey's given you today off in return?"
"Not until he comes back he's not." He sighs. She smiles then, their shared knowledge of just how much of a slave-driver Harvey can be.
"I'm sure I can get him to give you Friday off."
"Donna it's fine." He says, shaking it off. "Are you okay?"
"I uh. I have two broken ribs and a concussion. And if I lean too far forward, that older gentleman over there leans in as well, to get a good peek at my ass." She says, pointing at the guy asleep beside her. "Otherwise...I'm splendid." She remarks, the word still lingering from their previous and very British encounter.
"Yeah, I think he's been checking me out too. I made Rachel leave the room the moment we got here." He replies, making a face.
"Yeah, you have to watch her," She says, smiling tiredly.
"So uh… I don't want to pry," He starts, shuffling in his spot.
"But you're going to," She says, warmly.
"Did Stuart do this?" He asks, his face serious then.
"Yes and No." She says, looking about the pastel coloured room.
"Yes as in?"
"Gimme your damn phone," She demands, wincing as she takes it in her hands. "In the interest of what's going on, and because you're our friend, I'm going to write you a message. You can show it to Rachel, and then you have to delete it, and not talk about it in public. Ever. Got it?"
"Okay…" He agrees vaguely. "Okay. I get it. Legal."
"Yes." She says, before slowly typing it out." She finishes and hands the cellphone to Mike, watching his changing expressions as he goes through the message, his eyes scouring line by line.
"Shit." He remarks, sitting back on the chair that Harvey had occupied earlier.
"Yeah." She says, her eyebrow twitching in recognition.
"Okay. What do you need?" He says, looking at her pointedly.
"I guess Harvey's asked you here to watch over me. I need you to keep your mouth shut, especially Rachel. I love her, but-"
"I'm on it." He nods in understanding. They all know Rachel has a habit of letting things slip...
"Things might happen. Be there...for Harvey, if they do."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we all go back to normal."
"Donna," He argues, his face falling.
"We all just...go back, Mike. Harvey has things to sort out. I support him either way." She says, sitting up a little straighter in the lumpy bed.
There's things that Mike wants to say. Things, due to their tenuous position within a public place that he can't divulge at this point. Things about her constant sacrifice of self and wanting...
The only thing he can think of it is to take her hand in his, squeezing it gently, drowning the words in said action.
"Thank you Mike." She half-smiles.
Rachel rounds the corner then, two coffees and a brown bag in hand.
"Are you hitting on my boyfriend, Donna?" Rachel eyes her friend, humour lacing her features.
"You know. Just getting my Cougar on…" She says, grinning back.
Harvey's been working through the morning, and yet the adrenaline still hasn't lessened. He's called Ray, later than usual, asking him to meet him at work. Jessica catches him looking somewhat wired, like he's on the tail end of yesterday in today's suit, regardless of the wash and shave.
"I haven't seen you burn twenty-four hour oil since you were in the Associates pool..." She comments, gliding, leopard-like into the room.
"Don't ask and I won't tell." He says gruffly, glancing up briefly before returning to the paperwork.
He hears the door shut and footsteps grow nearer, as a shadow looms over him.
"Where's Donna, Harvey?" She asks carefully, pointedly.
"In the Hospital," He says matter-of-factly, his eyes trained on the page in front of him.
"You want to tell me what's going on?" She asks, her posture stiffening.
"Before you ask, I want this information locked down to this room." He says, eyeing her.
"Harvey what's going on?" She asks, her face widening.
"JUST...humour me. Please, Jessica." He says, the frustration popping slightly in his words.
She walks to the door, shutting it, before sitting down in front of him.
"Locked down. Go on." She gestures, her face serious then.
"Donna and her husband had a fight. About She and I."
"Is the firm under attack?" She fires.
From any other mouth it would seem obscure. He understands that sentence more than most.
"It was," He confirms, holding up the pieces of paper in his hands. "It won't be in an hour."
"You're sure?" She challenges, the reservation on her face.
"Damn sure." He says, his reply solid.
She relaxes then, as if convinced by his words. "Is she okay?" She asks, the words softer then.
"She'll be fine." He replies curtly, returning to his paperwork.
A thought overtakes him, just as she's about to open the door.
"Jessica?" He asks, looking up to meet her eyes.
"Yes?"
"After I'm done with this…later...I need to talk to you. There maybe be some changes, that will happen, or things that I need to ask for."
She pauses for a moment. He feels his whole life turn in the gap.
"Whatever you need, Harvey," She says, nodding slowly, a caring smile on her lips.
It's one of many talks he's going to have to swallow.
But right, now he has a man to knock down a flight of stairs. Metaphorically speaking of course...
He finds 'Mr Paulsen' in the locker room, going over notes. He's already bribed a young intern for the directions just so he could catch him at the right time in a vulnerable spot.
He waits, noticing the man in his own tiny little world.
The sudden urge to break him in two rises like thick bile in his gut and for a moment it overtakes him just how much he's hated this guy over the past two years. How much of it in only now justified by his recent actions.
He stalks up to him. Solid. Suit-clad and full of intention.
The blonde man notices him marginally, before straightening, taking a step back.
He's obviously balancing the right amount of tension in his face, as his nostrils flare, his sharp gaze contacting with the slightly taller man's.
"What are you-" Stuart starts.
He bites him immediately to the punch. "I want to break you half. But instead…. you're going to sign this contract." He says, the paper unrolling from his hands.
"And why would I do that?" Stuart replies. "I could have security down here in a second." He threatens.
"You're going to do it, because otherwise the police, and a good friend of mine from the DA's office are going to want to ask you a few questions about a little incident you were involved in last night. And in the interest of keeping that little screw up to ourselves, you're going to sign this: agreeing that all information about Donna and I is kept in that little twisted mind of yours. And if you so much as utter a thing about us to any secondary source that leaks, you'll have your medical license stripped before you can even finish your sentence. How's that sound?"
He's got him. The blonde man is standing his ground, but not by much, his blues eyes looking between his brown ones, the corridor and the piece of paper dangling in his hand.
"You need a pen?" Harvey asks, the sarcasm dripping between the silences.
"I'll need my Lawyer to look this over." Stuart says, swallowing.
"Tough shit. You pushed your wife down a flight of stairs. You don't get the time." He says, his voice hard, unforgiving.
"I never…" He starts, eyes widening at Harvey's words.
"Sign them. Both of them." He presses, his mouth forming into a sneer.
He watches the man analyse him, the angles of his face and shoulders right down to his shoes, before pulling out a pen from his pristine white coat, and scribbling on each of the dotted lines against the side of a nearby locker. He hands them over to Harvey slowly, reluctantly. You can see it in the Man's face that he knows he's lost.
He doesn't even bother with a sarcastic remark about 'being closed by Harvey Specter' or the courtesy of such a thing. This means too much to throw arrogance into the mix. He takes one contract, folding it, before putting it into his inside jacket pocket, and turning swiftly on his heel, before handing the other back to him.
"I never meant for her to get hurt." Stuart calls after him, stopping his swift exit.
He turns again, walking a few steps back towards the man. "If you ever so much as look at her again, I'll do more than beat the crap out of you." He says, letting the moment linger, before walking coolly out of the room.
He can't hide the smirk when the Hospital Doors close behind him, Ray casually waiting for him on the side walk. It's a strange occurrence.
"Is it done?" Ray asks, opening the door for Harvey.
"It's done." He nods, folding into the car. "On to the next."
He decides to meet the Dragon head on, texting Mike to linger a little longer with Donna. As he taps his foot against the carpet, waiting for the floors to rise, he wonders just how bad this is going to be.
When he opens the door, walking into the lounge, Scottie is playing with Layla in the lounge.
It's going to be very hard, he realises.
He clears his throat as he sees Scottie look at him, that sharp little smile of hers as she pats her daughters hands together.
"Hey," He says, gaining her attention. She doesn't smile at him.
"You're back early? Hows Donna?" She asks, her eyes unsure.
"Okay." He nods, looking at his daughter, kneeling next to her to ruffle her hair. "Hey kid, I missed you." He turns to Dana then, as his daughter notices him. "How's she been?" He asks, changing the subject.
"Okay. A little irritable, but."
"You got a sec?" He says, his stomach dropping at the awfully casual tone in his voice.
"Okay," She says, her face falling as she leaves Layla to the toys spread around her.
He leads her to the sofa, aware of the oncoming seriousness.
"You never kiss me any more, Harvey." She suddenly says. It knocks him off of his feet for a moment, like hitting the nail on the head but out of context.
"I know. I want to...talk to you about that." He says, joining her on the sofa.
"What's going on?" She says then, her face hardening. "Is this...about Donna?"
He immediately curses the fact that this woman has never been stupid.
She's just been preoccupied for the first time in her life.
He feels like an asshole. He doesn't deserve anybody…
He sighs, shuffling. "Yes. It is."
"What?" She says, recovering from the confirmation.
"I…" He pauses then, remembering three years ago. "I'm going to be honest."
About Donna, him, her apartment. The decision.
"Now, I want you to know, that that kid, in there. I love her. More than anything. I think we both do."
"Yes. But?" She says, her mouth straightening below a grimace.
"When you told me that you were pregnant, I panicked."
"Okay. Panicked how?"
"I went to Donna. To ask...what I should do."
She bows her head, frowning instantly. "You should have come to me, Harvey." She says carefully.
"I know. But… I wanted her to…"
"What?"
"I wanted her to tell me how she felt."
She retreats then. You can see as she retracts from him, inch by inch just how it hits her. She stands. "You love her."
"I do." He answers, his face falling in the process.
It wounds her instantly. "I've been so stupid, this whole time." She says. It's oddly self-effacing for her.
"No. I screwed up, Dana. I...I haven't been honest with you for a...for a long time. It's not been working with us and I should have told you."
"You're sleeping with her. Aren't you?"
He wants to lie, but something is rooting him to the spot, fusing his mouth closed.
"Get out." She barks.
"Scottie."
"I mean it. Get out."
"Scottie, it's my apartment." He says weakly. The moment it leaves his mouth he knows it was a dick move.
"Then, we'll leave.." She says, the tension cascading out of her then as her eyes dart to Layla.
"Scottie. Stay," He says then, his voice etching up a notch towards frantic, as his hand reaches out to her arm.
"Don't you dare touch me," She growls.
"Please. Stay here…I'll go. Just...stay."
"You have five minutes to grab your things and say goodbye to Layla."
"Don't," The words fall out of his mouth in suspension of the thought. The open-endedness that he's not in control of any more.
He walks slowly up towards his daughter, crouching down when he nears her spread of blocks and the engrossed look on her face, picking her up as she chirps at him. He kisses her on the forehead, as their large brown eyes meet and for a moment he swears that she gets it, as she stares at the mole above his eyebrow.
"Daddy's gotta go away for a little bit. I'll be back, kid." He says, ruffling her hair as her hands wrestle with his.
He doesn't take a bag, and when he exits the bedroom she's in the kitchen with her back to him, her shoulders are set like polished glass.
It's so very hard.
But it's done. For now, at least...
He avoids looking back at his little girl, a strangeness in his gut as he shuts his own door behind him.
He's out of sorts, and messages Ray to take the day off in favour of getting a cab. He feels disconnected and not in the mood for anyone who knows him to know him right now. He makes his way to the hospital, the strange alien feeling of being ripped from the womb of his own life taking it's toll on the hours that he's been up for this everlasting day of days.
Its made marginally better when he sees Mike and Rachel at Donna's bedside; the little gap between his lungs starting to warm back in again.
His eyes connect with Donna's as Rachel and Mike look back at him.
"Someone's popular." He says dully, deliberately.
"I think that's our cue to leave now," Rachel says, looking between the two of them with a smile.
His attention turns to Mike as his Partner walks up to him.
"Go well?" Mike asks; the usual reservedness in his question.
"Wins and Losses. Thanks for…"
"Don't mention it," Mike says, his hand clamping down on Harvey's shoulder with a warmth.
He does forget sometimes, just how much of a friend Mike really is. His eyes linger as Rachel says goodbye to Donna, carefully hugging her, before her knowing eyes glance at his.
And she's a perceptive woman, too, He remembers, realising the strength of the company that they keep.
"Mike," He says, as the two start to leave.
"Harvey?"
"Have today and Friday off. Your work here is done."
"Is this you firing me?" He says oddly, feigning shock.
"Get out of here," Harvey presses, rolling his eyes as his friend and confidant smirks to his girlfriend.
When he turns back to Donna, her face has fallen.
"You did it, didn't you?" She asks, worry on her tired face.
"It's done. He won't-"
"I meant Scottie." She clarifies.
His shoulders fall then, as he drops firmly into the chair next to her bed.
"Scooch." She orders, her face serious as she gestures at him. He huffs, and drags his chair nearer towards her bed.
He can see it in her eyes then, the shared weight of their seemingly futile thirty-six hours of drama. Her hand moves up his right arm, tugging at it to be closer to her, as he leans a little closer return, and closer still until the need to press his face into the bed overcomes him and her folds over, feeling her hand on the back of his head and the smell of her presence. They remain like that for a moment, their collective breath the only sound coming from them as the music of the bustling hospital teams around them.
"I'm going to tell Jessica." He mumbles into the hospital cover.
"What?" She asks, her voice seeming confused. He sits up then, the feeling of sleep overtaking him suddenly.
"I'm going to tell Jessica." He repeats, his eyes catching her wide ones.
"Everything?" She confirms.
"Everything." He nods slowly, tiredly.
She nods thoughtfully in return, her lips pursing together as she feels the weight of those actions and the possible aftermath that could follow.
"This all feels…"
"What?" He asks.
"Nothing," She says, passing it off to look about the room.
"It feels right doesn't it? Even with everything..." Falling apart...
"It does. I'm not quite sure if we're bad people or not." She remarks dryly.
"Well, if we are, then we'll carry that together, won't we?" He says, taking her hand.
"Well, I've tried to get rid of you once,so I suppose I'll keep you this time." She remarks, stifling a small smile.
"What can I say, I'm persistent when it comes to you..."
"I know."
"I really wanna take you to a hotel."
"You ruined it." She says, laughing slightly.
"Well, I can't sleep here. And I sure as hell can't sleep if you're not there." He remarks roughly.
Her eyes soften at him comment. "Well then that chair there is your best friend right now."
"I knew you wouldn't give up your bed." He says, his eyes narrowing playfully, if not half-heartedly.
"Doctor's orders," She smirks, shuffling somewhat. "I can, however, offer you a pillow."
"I'll take a pillow," He smiles, returning to his earlier position.
This time, he falls asleep on the side of her bed with his hand in hers.
She spends the entire time he's asleep wondering where they will go from here.
When he sits in front of Jessica, five hours later, his eyes are slightly blanched and lingering on her tea set as she balances a cup between her dainty fingers.
"What's going on, Harvey?" She asks, her voice peeling like worn velvet.
"Again, closed door?" He checks.
"Doors closed. What is it?"
"Donna and I...have been…"
"Say no more." She interrupts, straightening. "Does her husband know?"
"He's covered."
"I'll need a little more than that, Harvey."
He throws the contract across the coffee table. "He's covered."
He watches as she reads every line meticulously. "And Scottie?"
"She's...harder…"
"What does she know?"
"That I slept with her."
"Dammit, Harvey."
"I couldn't lie to her any more."
"You're gonna go down with the ship, you know that?" She almost barks at him, the decorum in her voice slipping.
"No. I'll handle Scottie." He argues, clenching his jaw.
"You better hope she doesn't come out for blood." She warns, harder, aware of just what they're up against.
"I'll handle her." He says again, matching the intensity in her voice.
They stare at each other for an immeasurable time, balanced on the winning outcome until Jessica finally relaxes.
"And Donna?" She asks.
"Things...are going to change."
She smiles at him. It's disarming, to say the least. "For what it's worth...It's been twelve years coming." She says, glancing at him.
"Yeah. It has." He says, still maintaining a level expression in front of his boss.
"What if you two don't work out?"
"She's...it'll work."
"You really do love her don't you?"
"No one will know any different."
"Do I have your word?"
"You do. And hers."
"Then… you have my… blessing. You know the rules."
He gets up then, feeling thoroughly worked over today as a heavy sigh escapes him. "And Harvey?"
"It's a good thing it's Donna. I like Donna." She says pointedly.
"Me too." He smirks.
The hotel bed is cold and alien and completely lacking even with it's glamour and classic style. Donna practically bullied him into getting a room, despite his protests. His mind reels about all of the things he needs to accomplish, and he wakes up with his foot out the door and into the day. He takes another half day when Donna calls him to let him know that she's being discharged. By then he's already topped his workload and has Cameron doing rings around the office trying to keep up so much so that Mike calls him from home just to tell him to get out for the afternoon.
Outside of the Hospital he and Donna have already found their groove.
They're fighting about her holding her bag. She's not letting up.
"Will you just give it to me?" He says gruffly, glaring between her and the oncoming traffic.
"No, Harvey. I can hold it in my other hand." She says stubbornly, pulling the bag out of his reach just to make a point.
"Is this a preview of things to come?" he huffs, his eyebrows raising at her.
"If you're referring to me kicking you in the balls then...perhaps." She remarks, grinning slyly at him, as he helps her into his car. They both settle onto the back seat with a long huff.
Her hand comes up then, turning his face lightly towards hers. "Let me look at you. You're so stressed."
"A lot's happened." He replies, succumbing to the feeling of her fingers around his jaw.
"With Scottie?"
"With everything." He shrugs, partly referring to being ceremoniously chucked out of his house and his daughter's life.
"Harvey," She chides, tilting her head him.
"I'll be fine. We'll be fine."
"You need to relax."
"I think we both do," He says, as Ray starts to move the car expertly through the afternoon traffic.
They're silent for the journey, but it's not an awkward silence, more of a silence that counts the beats of the day, that digests their journey from start to finish. Before she's even had to time to look up her hand is cold and absent of his and he's standing there with the door opening and a hand waiting, looking down expectantly at her.
"Hey," He says, as she moves into action, taking his hand and trying not to yelp at the pain.
She ignores his worried and frustrated look as they walk into the Mercer hand in hand, moving to the elevator on a room he's already booked, with things waiting for them both to change into when they get there, like they're dirty refugees; in a dress from two days ago and the only clean suit at his office.
The room reminds her of Stephen, of sex and secret rendezvous.
It looks so different with Harvey stood in it, she realises.
"What?" He asks, noticing her look.
"Nothing." She says, shaking her head.
"No. What?" He presses tiredly.
"Stephen Huntley?"
"He booked this room, didn't he?" He offers, unimpressed.
"You don't remember?"
"I remember that you 'went to all that trouble of finding out he booked a suite'. I didn't realise it was this particular one. Memorable enough to remember the room, huh?" He challenges, the words a ghost of their past conversation.
"Really? Jealous now? Aren't we a little late for that?" She counters, straightening as much as she can in flip flops, a cocktail dress and two fractured ribs.
He gravitates to her then, the privacy around them setting in as his hands wrap around her with a feathery touch.
"If I remember rightly, I was pretty jealous then, too" He mumbles, occupied by a strand of her hair as he places it next to the others. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now."
"Yeah, broken ribs really put the damper on it." She smiles, rolling her eyes as his honesty.
"I'm a giver." He says, quirking his eyebrow at her.
"You are a giver." She admonishes, grinning cheekily at him. "But as much as I know you love...giving...I don't wanna overdo it on my first night as a homeless wounded adulteress."
"Nice image."
"Thank you."
"Shower?" He offers, grinning.
"And lots of touching."
"Not too much touching." He warns good-naturedly, folding into her.
"I'll try to control myself." She says, tugging at his sleeve.
He wakes up towards the end of the night, his head lifting from the pillow with a feeling of being too hot in the sheets and the sense that he's in an alien place. His eyes narrow at the sharp strip of early morning light streaming through the window, until a panic has him distracted, a sense he's forgotten something. His eyes train to a puff of red hair on his left shoulder, the striking colour clicking him back into the last twelve hours. He smiles then, in the recollection of why there's a beautiful woman moulded into his back, smelling faintly of her signature perfume and tickling the hairs on his neck.
It's like he's missed the last ten years of her. Wasted her.
Her hand snakes around his waist as she settles in closer to him, her lips settling into the crease of his collarbone.
"Morning," He says under his breath; still sensitive to the hour.
"Morning." She whispers back, stretching out behind him, as the cool air sweeps in behind him. He frowns almost immediately, turning over to see her pulling on his shirt. His fingers reach out, grazing the hem that settles on her thigh.
"Hey, where you going?" He accuses.
She turns around, eyes wide. "The bathroom?"
He shakes his head at his own blatant overreaction as she grins back at him, entertained by his little outburst as she pads into the bathroom.
He settles on the bed, flattening his head against the pillows for a moment, until his alarm rings on the night stand and he stretches to flick the alarm off.
"You're going to be late." She calls to him, walking back into the bedroom.
"Work is not really my concern at this moment." He says, sitting up as she slides back onto the bed, his fingers itching to touch her.
"Harvey." She tilts her head, a disappointed look on her face.
"Donna." He mimics, if not mildly distracted by the hem of his shirt flirting on her thigh.
"Life goes on."
"I know. I just…"
She smiles, sadly then as she scoots next to him, covering a wince as her ribs protest at the stretch. He can't help as his fingers slide underneath his shirt to rest on her stomach.
"It's over, Harvey. You don't need to worry. I'll be fine."
"You'll be bored."
"Believe it or not, I do have things to do that exist beyond the world of you."
"I know." He says defensively. He doesn't know. And he doesn't really like the fact, either.
"Mike can't carry you forever."
"Donna," He says, tilting his head at her over-practicality. "We've been through a lot. Too much, maybe. I just want us to take some time out."
"You're a workaholic."
"Maybe… I could...relax...a little?" He offers, a softness creeping into his voice.
"Are you having a mid-life-crisis?" She jokes, her hand smoothing over his day shave.
"Perhaps." He grins.
It takes four hours of them both holed up in a hotel room, before she's about to pop.
"What's wrong with you?" He remarks, reading through a pile of messengered paperwork he had sent over.
"I can't do this... go to work. Now." She huffs, shuffling in the bed.
"Do...what?" He frowns.
"Have you watch over me like I'm in custody."
He looks to her then, frowning, trying to work out what it's all about as he examines her face, the frown line hardening between her brows.
"Donna. This isn't about me, is it?" He says, watching her quiet frustration. "I know you hate sitting still, but you need to rest. Just for a day. Watch television or...something."
She huffs then, folding her arms against herself as his attention trains back to his pile of paper.
"I can't believe I'm forty and homeless..."
"Could be worse," He comments, glancing at line after line of deposition in his hands.
"How?"
He looks up then, smirking. "You could be single."
"I mean it Harvey. This is..."
"We have a lot to work out. I know that. But we'll work it out. All of it."
She backs off then. For once he's right. She's never been person to relax, especially on the eve of a major life change.
After a weekend of sex, solitude and their own little sanctuary, Donna insists, no, demands that she go back to work.
He gives up the fight by this point, and instead settles for the other comforts that have developed quickly between them. Her dressing him in the morning is now the favourite part of his day, for which she ribs him intently on the smile, that appears, never to leave his face during, and which he takes to work with him after. She pulls a little harder on his cuffs despite the pain in her side and smooths down his tie with a finality that he absolutely cherishes.
When the car pulls up alongside work, he can tell she's nervous. It worries him. She's never nervous.
"Hey," He says, tugging at her hand.
"What?" She says, playing at relaxed.
"Just like every other work day." He says firmly, his eyes levelling with hers.
"I know." She shrugs, her usual swagger. "I was just wondering if you can make it the entire day without touching me."
"Well, a man's gotta eat." He jokes, his fingers sliding up her forearm.
"Harvey," She warns.
"I know. We agreed. No touching. But don't think I don't know that you-"
"I..?" She challenges.
"Like to play the game."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She says, coyly getting out of his car.
He grins, shaking his head at a smiling Ray before following her.
She plays the game all the way to their floor.
"There's something different about you."
The words come out of nowhere as she peers above her computer and notices the shaved head and cat-like grin.
"Hey Louis. I'm great thanks. And you?"
"I mean. Something...very different. Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine Louis, why would it not be...unless-"
"Unless?"
"How is...Ms Sazs?" She asks, sensing something missing in his words.
"Sheila's...how do you know about-" He splutters, his face taking on a whiteness.
"Louis?"
"Great. She's great thank you. Apart from the-how are you and-"
"None of your business."
"Right. Okay," He says vaguely, sidestepping her cubicle.
"Bye Louis." She says, dismissing him.
She watches as he turns on his heel, pausing, only to end up with with his hands clamped firmly on the edge of the partition once more. "I'm...glad things are finally working in your favour."
It's a lot for him. She knows as much.
"Thank you...Louis..."
"Any time." "Could I borrow a-" His hand delves towards her stationary pot.
"No." She says roughly.
"Okay." He says, shuffling away from her desk.
A second later he's back again.
"Is Harvey-" He starts, indicating to the open door of her Bosses office.
"No." She barks.
"Right."
Harvey streams out of the office, watching as Louis continues to shuffle down the hall.
"Did he want something?" He asks, frowning.
"Probably." She replies, typing at her desk.
"Okay," "Cameron said he left a-" His words are interrupted with a file to the chest. He blinks, before smirking at her.
"What?" She asks, impatiently.
"Nothing," He says, shrugging slightly.
She scowls at him all the way back to his desk.
He's up to something.
For the first time in her life,
Donna isn't in the know.
Even though she's knows something is going on.
She reasons that it's not serious, because Harvey would have told her.
But two days into work and she's burning to know what's missing information wise in her life.
When the even dawns, Harvey is lounging on his sofa, the smooth voice of Robbie Coltrane playing in the background.
"I can't it any more. With what's going on with everything, I don't want more surprises."
He looks up from the file in his hands, a small smirk waiting for her. "Okay..."
"There's something you're not telling me,"
"Perhaps."
"What is it?"
"I kind thought you'd have figured it out by now."
"Just...tell me." She says, her face serious. He chuckles, placing the file on his desk. "Get your coat."
"What?"
"I'll show you. Get your coat." He smirks at her.
Home Again,
Home Again,
One day I know I'll feel Home again
Born Again
Born Again
One day I know I'll feel strong again.
And lift my head.
Many times I've been told
All this talk will make you old.
So I'll close my eyes,
And Look Behind
Moving On... - 'Michael Kiwanuka 'Home Again'
"Keep your eyes closed." He orders.
"I'm wearing 3-inch Manolos, Harvey. It's not exactly easy to tread into the unknown when I can't see where I'm going..." She remarks, trying not to stumble as her maroon polished fingers play against the silk of his tie as it balances on her cheekbones.
"Suck it up." He says, smirking as he takes her hand, leading her forward.
So far she's heard the ding of an elevator, confirmed by Harvey's clearing of the throat, a key in a lock and echoing. Lots and lots of echoing.
She has no idea what's going on, and it's driving her crazy. She's the one in the know. The first port of call.
She hates secrets and surprises,
And yet he has both of them up his sleeve.
She notices the makeshift blindfold brighten around her, like a flare out of the corner of her eye. She feels the echoing of her shoes on crisp wood panelling, lost in the length of the sound filling the space around her. She feels hands wrap around her waist and his suit covered chest against her back.
"Okay. Take it off," He says, his voice tickling her hair.
She feels around the back of her head for the tie's bow, pulling at each end simultaneously, as it loosens just in time for her to catch it. She's sure he backs away just from being poked in the eye. She figures he'd deserve it either way. She blinks, adjusting to the sudden light,
She's completely void of words. She nearly drops his tie.
"It's an...apartment...or a viewing center." She remarks dryly, gazing out to the huge view of darkening Upper Manhattan. "Where are we?" She chirps, looking out to huge panels of glass, each on at least fifteen foot high and two stacked from wall to wall. She spies a door, heading out to a small balcony on one side of the panelling.
"You like it?" He asks, feeling her disconnect from him as she slowly wanders forward.
She notices the long kitchen units to her left, a breakfast bar, and a huge space in the front, like some open-plan lounge kitchen in desperate need of some pieces. She feels a weight behind her, and turns, backing up, her eyes training to a huge balcony, again wall to wall with glass, and more glass panels leading to other rooms.
"Oh my god." She says, her voice lacking in anything but awe.
"Donna?" He questions, smirking at her silences.
"I... this is place is rather large, don't you think?" She says, her voice dazed as she turns her head, noticing the staircase to the mezzanine, a glass laden right angle up to the first floor.
"It's...big enough. You want a tour?"
Alarm bells ring in her head then as she whips around on her heel. "Harvey... you didn't buy this, did you?" She asks, eyes worried for a second.
He smiles to himself, taking a moment, gathering his thoughts before answering. "Donna. Do you like it?"
"I... it's, well. It's beautiful. It's enormous. And...did you buy it?" She presses, eyes wider.
"Answer my question, and then I'll answer yours." He says, taking the tie from her hands to stuff in his pocket.
"Yes, but-"
"Then...Yes." He says, smirking.
"Harvey," She admonishes, her mouth agape as she walks vaguely to the windows. "We can't afford this."
"I can. And I have." He says joining her, his fingers lacing with hers.
"So...we're really doing this?" She asks, her face more unsure than he's ever seen.
"Yes?" He frowns slightly.
"Okay..." She says, a breath settling as a nervous laugh erupts from her chest.
He grins then pulling her to him. "You want to take a tour of your home?"
She's speechless once again. She merely nods, eyes slightly too wide for a woman of her age.
He tugs on her waist. "It took me a while to find this place. I drove the real estate woman crazy."
"Harvey... It's not even been a week, how did you?"
"Mike helped."
"Then Mike's on probation." She says sharply.
"He'll be on your good list when you've seen this." He grins, his attention catching at information, as he looks around them. "Okay. Kitchen, fully equipped. Even for you. Coffee machine on it's way. And over there," He points. "Is one bathroom. Guests, parties and emergencies." He says, inferring his little girl. "That Door there is my office," He says, pausing when he notices her glare. "Our office," He corrects glaring at her with that look of his. "You want to see upstairs?"
"Do I? Yes. Yes I do." She quips, playfully tugging on him, as he chuckles behind her.
When they land on the first floor, her breath catches as she notices the size of the place, the view of Central Park like a large patch of grass beneath them.
She feels a tug on her hand, as she follows him along the panels of glass, coming to double doors that he opens. It's a large room, with a bed and a frosted door to what she assumes is an en-suite, and another door next to it.
"This...is our room." He says, looking to her.
"Our room?" She enquires, looking around the white walls. The room is empty, save for a Bed, a chrome headboard, and a lavish cerulean blue quilt. "Why is this the only piece of furniture in the whole house?" She asks, a less-than-silent accusation on her lips.
"Because we're homeless. So I bought it. You wanna try it?"
"That's gotta be the smoothest line you've ever used," She remarks, rolling her eyes as she perches on the bed. "Oh god." She remarks, flopping back onto the mattress as he joins her. "This is a gooood bed." She replies, groaning.
"I know." He says cockily.
"You're good at this." She says, looking to him in her horizontal form.
"I had practise." He says, turning to face her.
"We're late for work already." She says suddenly.
"Mike's covering." He says, a hand on her arm. "And as much as I'd like to christen the bed; you wanna see the rest?" He offers, pouting at her smugly.
"Oh go on then," She says, pulling at his sleeve as they shimmy off the bed.
She walks to the unnamed door first, curiosity taking over as she pushes gently on the handle. She walks into a small corridor that turns left into a large dressing room, wall to wall oak, with flame coloured lighting. She spots a fully lit wall to wall mirror in the corner. "This is...unexpected. Given the style."
"Yeah. I'd liked that. Against the glass and clean lines it looks,"
"Stately. Secret."
"Exactly. That's your side." He points to the many shoe racks and the full length mirror.
"Oh, you know your audience." She moans, grinning at him as she totters on the dark wood floor towards the rails upon rails. "Oh, my Valentino's going to look so good in here."
"I thought you'd like it." He grins. "More?"
"Could there be more?" She says, her eyes growing wide again.
"Well, where'd you think Layla's gonna sleep?"
"Of course! Lead on," She infers, following him out of the dressing room with a brief look at their bathroom, mint and jade with a roll top tub and walk in shower, dressing table and some of the best bathroom lighting she's seen in a decade. He tugs her out into the corridor moving further down the hall. She frowns slightly when he walks past one room, and moves straight to the next, opening it. The room is large, almost as big as their room.
"This...will be Layla's room. Bathroom's the next room after this."
"It's perfect. And the correct distance away from our room so that we don't scar her for life."
"That was my thinking."
"Well done Batman," She nudges his shoulder. "But, what's the other room?"
"Okay." He says, looking at her, his face oddly serious. "Now. I know how you tend to...freak out...so," He pauses, offering her his hand, which she takes, letting him lead her back down the hall. He pauses again, his freehand held on the door. "This room can be...whatever we want it to be," He says casually, opening the door. It's identical to the one before, if not a tiny bit smaller. "Or, it could be for... our future."
"Is this a baby's room, Harvey?"
"That's for you to decide. I'm happy either way. But, It's here, if we need it. If not, it's a play room for Layla," He shrugs, trying to look non-committal.
"What the hell did I do to you?" She smirks, running her hands through his hair.
"I don't know. I'm getting soft, aren't I?"
"A little." She admits, her nose crinkling above her soft smile.
"Hmm." He muses. "We'll have to keep that under wraps."
"Otherwise your peers won't respect you, once they find out how thoughtful and kind you are?" She plays, her lips ghosting his.
"Exactly." He nods, brushing his lips against hers as his hands slide around her ribs, pulling her flush against him.
She turns her wrist against his neck, peering at the time. "We are very, very late for work."
"Well. I am. I need you to do something for me." He mumbles against her neck.
"What?" She asks, frowning slightly.
He pauses, fishing out his wallet and handing her a card.
"I need you to take this, and buy us some damn furniture."
"Specification?" She asks, popping a hip and picking the card out of his hand.
"You decorated my office. You get me. Just...make sure you buy something to sit my ass down when I get in tonight."
"I'm not being your wife, Harvey." She says gruffly.
"Of course not. But this is our home, and we have no furniture. So today you have the day off. You don't have to get everything, just...find some pieces. Something to make the place yours." He offers.
"I feel like I'm in Pretty Woman." She says, looking out over the balcony with a deliberate sigh.
"Then my job is pretty much done." He says, kissing her soundly. "Take this, that's our address," He says, handing her the key and a piece of paper. "Oh, and I'm having our clothes and possessions shipped to here today, so they're gonna call you if you want to go with,"
"Wait. Does Stuart know this?" She asks suddenly, her eyes wide.
"I had it written in the contract that 'all items of sole ownership shall be returned to the owner, and if any items are found missing or damaged, the plaintiff shall pay damages and the initial value of said items',"
"Thank god. I thought I was going to have to start from scratch."
"I'll see you later," He says, heading for the stairs.
"Harvey,"
He stops, huffing slightly. "What?"
It's like disease, she realises.
"I love you."
"I love you too. Go cause trouble."
"Did you have to ask?" She says, her right eyebrow sharpening at him.
He smiles then, walking along the lounge until she hears him shutting the door behind him, the echo reverberating through the house.
She pauses, looking down at the large living room and out at the crisp blue sky.
This is them.
And somehow,
Oddly,
It's Home, Again.
It's strange wandering around her own - now old - apartment with a stranger, pointing at things to take.
She's being fair, and she shouldn't be, all things considered. She leaves all the furniture, deciding that Harvey is right. They need to start fresh with the house. Find things that are them, instead of things that they both used to be. He's not a grieving bachelor any more and she's not an eternal singleton nor married.
They are a strangely new version of themselves.
She takes one or two things that she bought from her old apartment, but leaves the things they bought together. In truth she's happier that she gets to take her clothes, shoes, trinkets, a blanket from her mom and presents that she received before she got married. Oddly, when she takes everything she needs, it looks like she'd never even existed at the apartment. It strikes her that she really did compromise her life, never really living as herself there.
Maybe she was to blame.
She's resolute this time. To live as them, the two of them individually and together.
But then again, the two of them have never really had that problem.
She hands over the address to the movers, and wonders idly what Harvey has requested from his apartment. The thought of the open ended situation there plays in her head with a cloud above it. It's the last hurdle. The biggest hurdle for the both of them.
She smiles to herself, when Ray appears outside her apartment, nodding as she slides into the back seat.
"Ms Paulsen." He smiles.
"Ray. How are you doing?" She asks warmly.
"Good. Harvey has me at your beck and call today. Willingly, of course."
"I gathered. Thankyou."
"First stop?" He asks, looking out to the traffic around them.
"Hmm..." She muses.
Where to travel when you have the whole of 5th at your disposal...
"I think Brooklyn is calling?" She says into the rear-view mirror.
"Thrift?" Ray implies, smirking back at her.
"Thrift indeed, Ray. I want good pieces, after all."
Harvey's marching down the firm's hall when Mike accosts him. "So?" His protege says, clearly buzzing with energy.
"So what?" Harvey replies gruffly.
"Well...did she like it?" Mike presses.
He waits a second, lingering on the answer just to see the kid sweat a little longer.
"Yes. I guess I should thank you."
"Oh, I'm sure I'm owed a Bonus at some point." Mike remarks, keeping up the pace alongside him until Harvey pauses.
"Weren't you doing that as a friend?" Harvey asks, raising questioning eyebrow at him.
"During my work hour." Mike reminds him.
"Good call."
"Thank you." He says, following Harvey once more. "Has Scottie made a decision yet?"
"On what?"
"Whether she's going to work here?"
"I'm...not sure. We're not exactly talking."
"Well. Not that I'm not on your side, but do you really blame her?"
"I liked you better in your rookie phase." He says, walking purposely ahead of his Junior Partner.
It's strangely cathartic, riding an unknown elevator. He kind of misses Henry, his old Doorman. Not that he won't be in and out of the apartment; he does own it still and Layla does still live there, regardless of the current tensions.
But it's been ten years of living in the same place that he's gotten used to.
This is a new age for him. For Donna.
And that trumps any doorman.
He wanders to his new front door, spying the '21' on the door that will now become commonplace in his life. He opens the door to low lighting, his father playing a solo on his delivered record player and the glow of the city with it's colourful array of lights as his backdrop.
He spies a beautiful redhead, lamp-lit on a lounger by their enormous windows.
He's not a photographer, but he's certain that it's a prime photo opportunity. He fishes out his phone, frowning at the list of apps until he finds the camera, taking off the flash, remembering what Mike told him about focusing the picture.
"What are you doing?" Her voice calls across the room, as he shuts the door behind him.
"Nothing." He says, stuffing his phone into his pocket as his attention catches at the huge assortment of boxes to the side of the room. No doubt, a collection of their things. He walks past them, noting two bottles on the kitchen counter and his coffee machine on the side.
She watches him, putting down her book.
"Purchase?" He asks, pointing to the tan lounger she's sat in.
"It reminded me of you." She shrugs.
"It's nice... looks good here," He says, perching on the end as she sits up. "So, I see unpacking went well?" he remarks, his head inclining slightly.
"Before you comment, I unpacked all of our essentials, all of our clothes - organised of course - toiletries and books etcetera. I also shopped for groceries, alcohol and I bought this lamp here." She says, pointing above her head. "I'll unpack gradually over the week, and I have a beautiful sofa and coffee table coming tomorrow evening." She says, leaning into him. "And how was your day, dear?" She asks, the sarcasm lacing her words.
"Oh, same old." He shrugs.
"I also... bought a little something for Layla's room. So she can stay whenever you like. Go take a look." She says, nodding towards the mezzanine.
"You didn't have to do that." His face falls immediately, not because the idea of it being not so soon a notion, but because he's already made up in his head that she doesn't need to overcompensate for the choice that he's made with regards to his daughter.
"I wanted to," She says, nudging him off of the chair.
"Pour me a scotch?" He half-asks.
"I'm not your wife." She says, playfully, that little sharp edge of light dancing in her eyes.
"Not yet you're not." He says, aware of the intention in his words. He watches her stiffen, eyes wide, and then scrutinise him.
"Just go look in her room." She orders, her voice irking up a notch.
He grins softly at her, before wandering up the stairs, watching light dance against each step from the vivid city backdrop. He notices their bedroom decidedly fuller than when he'd left this morning, with two side tables and a few pictures leaning against the walls. He passes the 'room which shall not yet be named' and pauses.
There's a large mirror and an old grey armchair, roomy and worn in. He chuckles, the resemblance to a nursing chair uncanny. He shakes his head, wondering idly what else she hasn't told him about and walks further along the hall until he gets to Layla's room.
He's not often taken aback.
It's...beautiful, warm and orange lit, with a white crib at the back of the room, a soft muslin canopy in a dusky shade that picks up the orange glow. He spies a little white table and chair, child height, and a little chest of drawers. He smiles to himself, at the selfless attention to detail that is her.
He glides back down to the living room to see her pouring a glass of wine, the scotch already waiting on the counter.
"What did you think?" She asks coolly, sipping her wine with a seductive smile on her lips.
"I think… it's perfect." He says, wandering around to her side of the counter. She places her wine on the side, noticing his visible change in mood, as he all but stalks up to her, his eyes dark and purposeful. His hands pull her to him, somewhat roughly, protectively, as if they're surrounded by people wanting a piece of her . She gasps at the action, covering her reaction just as quickly.
"You were missed today." He says, his gaze lingering on her mouth.
"Mm. Mike couldn't take the absence, huh?" She plays, her hands resting on his chest.
"Something like that," He says a thought playing in his head. He guides her then, pushing her backwards, turning them around until she's up against the front of the counter. He lifts her then, propping her on the top.
"Christening?" She offers, sensing his mood.
He nods, settling between her legs, his hands pulling at the wrap around dress she has on.
"What about your Scotch?" She enquires, watching as he painstakingly unwraps her.
"The Scotch can wait," He says, pulling her forward against him, his nose bumping against her chin.
I think I might have inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you floating in me... - Stateless 'Bloodstream'
"This is a very beautiful apartment," She mumbles lazily against her new pillow, as he watches her, his arm supporting the weight of his head.
"You look very beautiful in it."
She laughs then, shaking her head at him.
"What?" He says, his trademark tone peeking out.
"I can't take it." She frowns self-consciously, her mouth falling into an embarrassed smile.
"What?"
"'This You. You're so different from the Harvey that I've worked for, for...ever."
"And yet you're the same."
"Is that a bad thing?" She asks, her confidence bending slightly against the weight of his comment. She feels a shiver take over as his hand skims her thigh.
"No. You're you. You're consistent. But you're also not...relaxing." He says, eyeing her watchfully.
"See me? Relaxed." She argues weakly.
"You know what I mean. I'm not going anywhere, Donna. I don't want you to go anywhere."
"I guess it's just..." She pauses, trying to realise the words.
"Hard to let go?" He offers.
She nods then, thoughtful and silent.
"You traded it in back then. Us for work? I guess I'm just waiting for the other foot to drop, if I'm honest."
He moves closer to her, his hands sliding over her waist, "My feet, are firmly," He whispers, moving between her thighs, leaning them apart to rest on top of her, almost straddling her, until she frees them, her legs wrapping around his waist. "On the ground. This is where I want to be. As long as you do too." He finishes, his thumbs running down the middle of her chest, sloping along each side until they settle on her waist, pushing her chest to arch slightly against him, letting her gasp as his tongue finds the valley between her breasts.
"I guess we're in it for the long haul." She says lazily, smiling at the sensation.
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