A/N: That cliffhanger eh? I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Let me know your thoughts by leaving a review, always much appreciated.
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Feels Like Home
Chapter 13
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So when you feel like you can't take
Another round of being broken
My arms are open, oh oh
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His legs feel weak as he steps in the direction of the balcony door. He hits his knee pretty hard on the very sharp corner of his nightstand and he curses loudly. But it is while hopping around, rubbing his sore knee that he sees the small stripe of light emitting from underneath the bathroom door.
Pain forgotten, he runs to the door, ready to swing it open but he comes to a halt when he hears the shower. With his hand on the handle, he draws a few deep breaths through the nose, briefly closing his eyes. Then he steps inside.
He slaloms around her yoga pants and sweater that are strewn haphazardly on the floor, finding Donna sitting in the shower. Her arms around her pulled up knees, her head buried between her legs and the water thundering down from the rain shower head.
He's a bit bewildered when he, through the steamed-up glass door, notices she is still wearing her underwear, t-shirt, and her warm fuzzy socks. She doesn't acknowledge his presence so he crouches down and goes slowly when opening the door, even though his insides are raging but this isn't about his needs.
"Donna?" To be heard over the water pounding on her head, he needs to be loud but his voice feels shaky. She doesn't look up but is shivering nonetheless. He reaches out to touch her cheek when he feels the water temperature. It is cold. Freezing cold. He gets her attempt of shaking herself out of her panic attack but catching hypothermia instead isn't quite the solution.
He uses his feet to quickly slip off his shoes and opens the buttons of his collar. He doesn't bother with the rest and steps in fully clothed. He cranks up the water heat, although he makes sure it doesn't go from zero to hundred immediately.
Donna is situated to the right, hunched down, fully engulfed by the rainshower.
He perches himself in the small space behind her and slides down against the wall until he's in a crouched position. He wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her back.
"I'm here," he whispers in her ear. "I'm not going anywhere." He gently pushes her hair to one side so that he can finally see her face a bit. Her eyes are red, mascara has been smeared around them and her lips are a light shade of blue. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs.
She doesn't reply but straightens her back, leaning a bit into him. He responds by sitting down, his knees creak a bit as he places one leg on either side of her, and he leans back against the tiles, pulling her into his chest, his head on top of hers.
They sit like that, silent, for a long time. Every few minutes Harvey reaches up and adjusts the thermostat until the water is scalding hot.
In the end, he can't take it anymore. The guilt going around in his head in circles.
"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice rough as he runs a hand through his wet hair.
Donna's eyes snap open. The first words she utters since he arrived are to soothe him. "It isn't your fault."
He shakes a no, his chin still resting on top of her head. "I didn't want to stay at the firm and I should've listened to my gut feeling."
Donna wrenches her fingers free of his, fidgeting as she pulls on an imaginary cuticle.
"I had an EMDR session today with Hilli and that's what triggered this."
His body goes tense with shock at her admission. He quickly recovers and squeezes her knee but she knows she hurt his feelings.
"Do you know what EMDR is?"
"Yes, it's a method to treat trauma by reconnecting you in a safe way with the images and sensations associated with the trauma in an attempt to heal the brain."
He feels her surprised reaction.
"I read up on PTSD to make sure I am doing the right thing," he admits and it is her turn to squeeze his arm. She is so lucky to have this man in her life and one day soon, when her brain isn't busy flashing images all the time, she will tell him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice is quiet and tense.
She draws a deep breath. His hurt is so palpable and she regrets her actions. "You would've wanted to come and you are only just back at the office and tonight was a perfect example of how needed you are there. You can't keep putting me over the firm," she rambles.
He pulls her against him so that her head is leaning against his shoulder. His cheek touching hers.
"You need to let me decide that for myself," he tells her gently, his warm breath stirring against her skin. "I will always want to know what's going on with you." His lips brush her temple. "Always," he whispers huskily.
She pulls away from him to turn around. Still sitting between his legs, her hazel eyes look at him directly for the first time this night as she slides closer. She brings her hand up to his face, her hands grazing his stubble.
"How are you? What's all of this doing to you?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "This isn't about me."
"But it is," she says firmly. "I have been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't stop to consider you for one bit. So take advantage of this temporary lift of the cloud to talk to me." She tries to be lighthearted but Harvey's face remains serious.
He has no intention of sharing his burdens with her but her eyes are pleading with him and her next words push his buttons. "You must have feelings about all this. Or would you do this for anyone? Would you do this for Scottie?"
"You're different," he replies. His voice barely audible.
"Different how?"
He holds back the sigh he feels coming up. The whole conversation, a deja-vu of that fateful night in his office, nineteen months ago. The one that nearly ripped them apart. As much as he is now ready to answer this question honestly, she isn't. So he isn't as straightforward as he would like to be when he replies.
"Your call earlier made my knees buckle and everyone in the office knows it."
He places his hands on her bare upper arms, rubbing softly, afraid she might retreat.
"When the call got cut off and the house was dark—" His throat closes up as he speaks.
A hand flies to her mouth. "My battery died," she mumbles.
Nodding his head, "I knew there was a good explanation," he reasons.
She shifts her legs from in between his, to spreading them over his thighs, wrapping her fuzzy socks together around his back. She is practically sitting in his lap, and the look on her face is full of concern even though she is the one that is dealing with trauma. His heart swells about ten sizes, realizing that this is so Donna. His Donna is still there underneath all that pain and anxiety. Beating loudly in its ribcage, he feels his heart is exposing him. She must be able to feel it pounding in his chest. He fights the overwhelming urge to kiss her. That feeling isn't new but up until now, he has known she isn't ready to go down that path. And that hasn't changed but her attentiveness and close proximity make his head spin so he draws his arms around her shoulders. They share a cuddle, her head resting in the crook of his neck.
"If my presence is causing you anxiety, I can find somewhere else. It's time I learn to be on my own again. Be at my own place." Her voice pierces through the silence.
With a heavy heart, he formulates a neutral response. "I want you to do what feels right for you." He squeezes her tighter against him. "If that is your own place, great, but if you feel you need more time here, then stay. We'll work on getting you out and about again."
She pulls back and starts to retreat. Reluctantly he lets her go. He switches off the shower and they awkwardly stand in the small space, dripping from head to toe. The water coming in almost a steady stream from his soaked clothes.
It is as if she is only now really taking him in as she gasps, tugging his vest. "Your suit."
He shrugs. "I have plenty. Let's get you wrapped up first."
Stepping onto the bath mat, he offers her his hand. When she stands in front of him, he orders her to turn around and he helps her peel off the wet t-shirt. Grabbing a towel he holds it up between them. Donna silently removes her bra and he quickly wraps the fluffy towel around her.
"Gimme those sheep you have on your feet and hop into bed to stay warm," he instructs.
She does as told so he hangs out her socks and then helps himself out of the drenched suit. Wringing out the items, he does a breathing exercise of his own. He feels like he has been through the wringer himself.
He is willing to do anything for her but at the moment he feels like he's doing Donna, the firm, and himself a disservice. He can't give all of them 100% of what they need. He increasingly worries that his feelings for Donna cloud his judgment. Is he doing what is in the best interest of anyone?
After hanging out his wet clothes, he changes into dry boxer shorts and his sleeping shirt. He shoots a quick text to Mike, promising to call him tomorrow but that everything is fine for now and then he slips between the sheets as well. Sensing Donna's mind is in the same turmoil as his, he pulls her close and together they give in to their exhaustion at 3 am in the morning.