Waves
MIKE struggles to hold Harvey back, no match for his mentor's larger, more powerful build. Harvey is a bull seeing red, literally... Donna's fiery hair whips in the wind like a siren call to his boss, but Mike jerks his elbow hard enough to stop him charging forward.
The pier they're all standing on is weather worn, the boards half rotted away, and chances are the ocean will swallow Harvey before he gets anywhere near Donna or Trevor.
He has no idea what the fuck his former best friend from college was thinking. Except he does, which is far worse. He knows because three days ago Trevor showed up high and desperate for Harvey's help, again. He turned the man away, knowing Harvey wouldn't lift a finger this time, but made the fatal mistake of bitterly joking that unless Trevor owned Harvey's first born he was shit out of luck.
Never in a million years did he think Trevor would go searching for leverage, but he did, and found Donna, Harvey's Achilles heel. And he's just as worried for her safety because in all the years he's known Trevor, the man has never stooped so low. Either he's landed himself in real trouble or he's tripping on something on drugs stronger than weed, otherwise he's sure Donna would have been able to talk him down, but he has to try the same thing, because if Harvey lets loose, Trevor is a dead man.
"We'll help," he swears, attempting to gain control of the situation. "Whatever you need… Harvey and I will do it."
"The hell we will!"
Harvey barks the defiance, and for the first time since they've met, he stands up to his mentor. "Harvey!" he snaps the warning, catching Donna's pissed off look, but aside from the rope draped loosely around her wrists, she seems okay. Only, she won't be if—
A loud creak cuts through the wind, the entire pier shuddering, and he stumbles as the wood gives way, the structure collapsing into the violent waves below, taking Donna and Trevor with it.
Harvey wrenches himself free, tearing out of his jacket like a man possessed, and before Mike can process what he's doing, Harvey dives in after them, the loud splash jerking him to the edge of the pier in search of someone surfacing. But all he can see are black rolling waves—and shit.
He takes off, sprinting down to the gravelly sand, his shoes sinking into the wetness as he wades into the water where Trevor is emerging.
"What the hell did you do!" He fists the man's shirt, but let's go with a hard shove, more concerned about his other two friends. "Harvey! Donna!" he shouts against the wind, scanning the vast expanse as the current drags him in every direction.
He's not a strong swimmer but hopes to God Harvey is because he knows the man won't surface without Donna—not even if it costs Harvey his own life.
...
DONNA swallows hard as Mike struggles to keep hold of Harvey, her relief overshadowed the situation she's become mixed up in. Trevor used her, played on her friendship with Mike, but his intent wasn't malicious, just chaotic and desperate.
She tried to warn him he had a better chance with the men seeking retribution than with Harvey, who looks ready to tear Trevor to shreds. She's never seen her boss so irate and shakes her head in warning, urging him to to stop and think. She needs him calm, doing what he does best, but when Mike steps in first, she's grateful for the younger man's common sense.
"We'll help, whatever you need, Harvey and I will do it."
Good pup.
"The hell we will!"
Dammit.
"Harvey!"
Mike's shout carries across the wind, and she silently pleads with Harvey to listen, holding his gaze, tapping into the concern she knows is broiling beneath his anger. She isn't hurt, she just wants this nightmare over with. Recognition flashes in his eyes, and she smiles a soft sigh. He's going to get her out of this.
She has complete faith in him, but the second she relaxes a shudder ripples underneath her feet, and she tugs the rope around her wrists, trying to keep her balance, angry at herself for not slipping out of them sooner. Her plan was to give Trevor an illusion of control—a mistake that slams her with full force as the boards snap, sending her plunging into the icy water below. A painful cold rips through her body, her hands no longer able to navigate out of the binds as fear and panic drags her deeper under the swells.
All she can do kick fiercely, trying to reach the surface that's getting further and further away.
...
HARVEY'S going to kill the shit-head. Ring Trevor's goddamn neck. That's the only thought he can comprehend as he tries to break free of Mike's grasp, but Donna's subtle signal weakens his fight. She rolls her eyes, as if to say the whole thing is cliche, but that doesn't stop the need to protect her raging through him.
"We'll help, whatever it is you need, Harvey and I will do it."
"The hell we will!" he snaps, livid with the kid. Hostage 101, don't negotiate with terrorists.
"Harvey!"
He grunts his frustration at Mike's demand, Donna's silent plea reaching him first, and smothering his anger. She's okay. A little worse for wear, but she needs him to fix this, and the confidence she has washes over him—ripping his heart viciously out of his chest when the pier shakes and she vanishes in front of him.
He tears out of his jacket so fast, he swears he hits the water before she does, opening his eyes to the black, murky nothingness. He's tossed back and forward by the waves as he dives deeper, pushing debris out of his way, praying she didn't hurt herself and still has a fighting chance to surface on her own.
He stays under until his fire ignites in his chest, cracking through the frozen cold, and he forces himself above the water again in case she's visible, but the lapping waves obscure his dizzy focus. Mike shouts something that's swallowed by sea and wind, but all he cares about is drawing in all the air his lungs can hold as he pushes himself back under.
...
When the water breaks, Mike hears Harvey's gasps over the waves and howling wind, oxygen punishing the man's lungs, but he's clutching onto Donna, her body limp in his arms, and Mike turns to Trevor to call for an ambulance, frustrated but not surprised to find him gone. He could give a shit about his ex-friend's safety, and he wades back to the shore, fishing for his phone and praying the device still works as Harvey drops to the sand, slipping the rope off Donna's wrists and checking her airways.
The line connects and Mike fumbles out the instruction to send help. "We need an ambulance…" He chokes in horror, his heart thundering when Harvey starts compressions.
"Come on." Harvey clamps his jaw shut, trying to force away the moisture blurring his gaze. He's not going to lose her. He might seldom give a damn about people, but she's different. She's always been different. He needs her, in every way a person can need someone, and he crouches down, pushing air into her mouth, willing her to breathe.
"Stay with me," he whispers brokenly, Mike's conversation fading into the background as he starts on her chest again, too afraid to be delicate or careful. He's pouring everything he has into keeping her alive, hit by the sudden notion that he loves her. Even if he's never considered it seriously before, the feeling has always been there—when he sees her in the morning, while she's talking him out of some impulsive idea, late at night when he's home alone musing over memories of strawberries and whipped cream… She's in his mind wherever he goes, and he loves her. "Donna, please." He doesn't care that he's begging, that his arms feel like they're going to snap, depleted and drained from searching for her. All that matters is that the effort wasn't in vain and he counts in his head, placing his lips back over hers. He doesn't know what he would do without her, and when she breathes air into his mouth, the purest of oxygen he's ever tasted, he startles—rushing to roll her over and expel the water still trapped in her lungs.
Sirens blare in the distance, and collects himself, his arms folding around her when she seeks him out, cold, wet, coughing and shivering. All he wants to do is wrap her up and keep her safe, never let her out of his sight again. "It's okay," he chokes the assurance into her tangled hair, tears mixing with the salt burning through his gaze. "I'm here," he promises, holding her tightly. "I'm right here."
...
He doesn't leave her side.
He rides with her in the ambulance, waits while the doctor checks her over—she's fine—but her ribs will be sore for a couple of days, and he feels guilty, but she gently reminds him that he saved her, urging him to go make things right with Mike because none of what happened was his fault either.
He does, in his own way, his voice still gruff and his heart still raw when he tells the man to go home and get some rest. He's an asshole at the best of times, but tonight especially, because the locked box he keeps his emotions sealed in is busted wide open, and he doesn't know what to do with all the feelings pummelling through him; frustration, anger, relief, gratitude, and dare he admit, love.
He's never been good with the latter, and when he sinks back down next to Donna's bed, watching her sleeping form, moisture clings to his gaze. She's strong, confident and fierce, but also pure and delicate, and all he wants to do to protect her.
She murmurs in her sleep right before her eyes flutter open, all honey and light, glazing the cold, damp corners of his being. When she asks why he hasn't gone home yet, he just shrugs, but really, he hasn't left because she is home.
She's everything, his past, present and future entangled around her very existence, and maybe one day he'll find a way to tell her with more than just the shrug of his shoulder.
For now at least, knowing she's safe is the best he can ask for.