The sound of slapping paper lifts Mike's gaze. Harvey looks agitated, and Donna scowls as she teeters on high heels back to her cubicle. He noticed she seemed unwell this morning. But when he queried why she didn't just go home, he received a sharp, 'why do you think?' as she'd glared pointedly into Harvey's office.

He's only been at the firm a few weeks, but it's common knowledge his new boss is a hardass. He's been on the receiving end of more lashes than he can count in spite of his eidetic memory. But Harvey seems closer to Donna than anyone else, and he works up the courage to say something. "You could cut her some slack."

Harvey swipes the brief with a hard glower. "Excuse me?"

Mike swallows. "I'm just saying… She's sick."

The paper crumples slightly in Harvey's hand. Usually, he doesn't care how people perceive his behavior, but Mike taking Donna's side riles his frustration. "I told Donna she couldn't take leave this week. Now she's making me pay for it."

The explanation seems far fetched. Mike's seen Donna pull the wool over Louis' eyes, but she doesn't strike him as the petty type. "You really think she's faking?"

"I don't think, Mike. I know," Harvey snaps. The kid needs to start reigning in his overblown compassion or it's going to land them both in trouble. "Is that list ready yet?"

"Nearly. Just about..." Mike stumbles, dropping his attention back to the task Harvey saddled him with.

…

Donna's eyes strain tiredly through a headache, when a steaming hot bowl of soup lands in her peripheral. She blinks at Mike. She isn't used to the open thoughtfulness, and she appreciates the gesture, but he's going to land himself in the dog house, too. "I'm fine, Mike."

"No, you're not." He isn't stupid enough to say out loud that she looks terrible—but she does. "You should go home, rest."

She takes the soup off the petition with a sigh. For now it's better to let Harvey think he's won. Then tomorrow she can take the day and Jessica can deal with him. "It's just a few more hours."

She's really saying, 'you know what Harvey's like', and Mike might not fully understand the pair's dynamic yet, but to him it feels like they're both being unnecessarily stubborn—a game three can play at.

"What are you doing?" Donna sits back, bewildered as he rounds her cubicle. No one invites themselves over to her side without permission, but his cool palm feels like heaven against her warm skin, and she leans in with a groan.

"Donna, you're burning up," he observes grimly. "Let me talk to him."

"Here's your chance," she mumbles, reluctantly drawing away from his hand.

"Mike!" Harvey snaps. "My office, now."

Mike steels himself as he follows Harvey's blazing trail, catching the glass door and closing it behind him. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem," he retorts, rounding his desk, "is that you're supposed to be working. Not fawning all over my secretary."

The accusation seems unnecessarily aggressive, and Mike scrutinizes the man's sudden possessiveness. "Wait a minute… Are you jealous?"

Harvey scolds the suggestion, his gaze flashing to Donna. "Don't be so goddamn ridiculous." If she heard, she doesn't show any recognition. But that's been his problem.

She always remembers the one week that hits him the hardest. The only space he allows himself to mourn the death of his father. They don't talk about the anniversary, but she keeps his calendar light, and she takes care of things. So, maybe he is a little jealous—that she had somewhere better to be when he needed her here.

With a deep sigh, he half-expects her to look up and read the conclusion in his gaze. But she doesn't, rising with a shaky wobble instead, and he feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She doesn't get sick. Nothing she's ever complained about before at least. He was sure she was just playing things up to get the time off. But Mike's been genuinely concerned and—damnit. He throws his frustration at Mike. "Why the hell didn't you tell me she was actually sick?"

"That's what I've been saying all day!" Mike throws up his hands with an exasperated huff, which Harvey ignores.

He barrels out his office to where Donna is leaning heavily against her desk, his palm sliding across the damp fabric clinging to her back. "Easy." He guides her into her seat, kneeling down—concern tightening his chest as Mike scurries behind him.

"I'll get some water."

The kid vanishes, and Harvey fans his hand across her forehead with a pinched frown. If she'd told him outright she was ill, he would have listened. But for once he can accept the fault lies with his behavior. "I'm sorry." He hates apologizing, and the sentiment doesn't do a damn thing to ease his guilt.

She's too exhausted to stay mad, and her head lolls back with a sigh. "I want that in writing."

When Mike returns, Harvey takes the water and tilts the glass up. "Drink this and I'll take you home."

Mike frowns. "What about the deposition tomorrow?"

"Louis can handle it." He brushes Mike off, rolling his eyes when the associate balks at the suggestion.

"But—"

"Go. Now." There's no way he can make the instruction clearer, and when Mike backpedals to find Louis, he ignores Donna's protest about being too harsh. She can yell at him later, after she's feeling better.

...

When Donna's fever finally breaks, Harvey brings out the soup he warmed, placing it on the table.

"You don't have to stay," she assures him. There's still time for him to help with the deposition, but instead of acknowledging the comment he sits down beside her with a heavy sigh.

He clasps his hands together, preparing to do what he should have done in the first place and just told her the truth. "This week is..."

"I know, Harvey." She gently cuts off his pause, willing to excuse the way he's been acting. Gordon meant everything to him. And when Harvey's gaze swings around with puzzlement, she comes clean. "Vic is holding a memorial at your father's old club. He asked for my help organizing it."

"Which is why you wanted the time off." His chest deflates even further. She's close with his father's manager because she's helped him keep Vic's business off Jessica's radar. But he doesn't understand why all the secrecy. "You could have told me."

"I could have," she agrees. "But then you would have found a reason not to go."

He ducks his gaze. She's right. Although he would have tried, days thinking about having to confront his emotions in public would have swayed. He should never have doubted her. "I owe you a new handbag."

She rolls her eyes. "You owe me breakfast and two new handbags."

"Deal," he chuckles softly. Truth is he owes her a lot more than that, and his gaze grows more serious. "You sure you're okay?"

"Are you?" He nods silently, and she smiles. "Then I'm okay."

He thinks the statement works better the other way around, because he wouldn't be able to get by without her. And even though he should go and make sure Louis hasn't tanked his case, he decides to stay a little while longer.

Once Donna falls asleep, and he trusts she really is fine, he puts his armor back on, because when he's with Donna, caring doesn't make him weak—it makes him stronger.