Mugged
Mike slings his tote over his shoulder, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand. Tired and exhausted, he's ready to go home, when he spots Donna ahead of him, disappearing into the female bathroom.
He frowns, confused.
She left over an hour ago to meet a date, and he glances back at the light still on in Harvey's office, wondering if he should go get the man, but he hesitates. Despite all the years he's been working at the firm, he still can't quite grasp the relationship between Harvey and Donna. They love each other, but there are times they also operate independently, usually to their own detriment. When Donna was fired. When she moved to Louis' desk. When Harvey started dating his therapist. When he broke up with said therapist. There's scarcely been a time the dynamic between the duo hasn't been confusing. But when he tried to push them together a few weeks ago, the plan back-fired and there's been a lingering awkwardness in the air since. It's better he investigates before involving Harvey, and he approaches the bathroom, rapping his knuckles lightly over the door. He's greeted by silence and tentatively pushes the wood open a crack. "Donna?"
"I'm fine."
The assurance sounds like a choked sob, and there's no way he believes her, almost falling over himself to see what's wrong.
His shoes clatter over the tiles, finding her standing in front of the mirror with blood trickling down the side of her face. "Jesus, what the hell happened!?" He gently tugs her around, raking his worried gaze over the bruise on her cheek, down to the tear in her dress and the angry scuffs marking her knees. She tenses, and he knows the look she's wearing—one that says she's about to feed him some bullshit line about tripping over or something, but he's faster, putting two and two together. "Donna, your date..."
She shakes her head, swallowing thickly. Her date was a jerk which is why she left the restaurant early. But he wasn't her attacker. Whoever shoved her in behind the alley was taller and angrier. He hit her hard before stealing her purse and running off, leaving her to stumble to the nearest safe place she could think of. "I was mugged. He didn't—I'm okay."
She swipes at her gaze, smearing the blood, and Mike quickly grabs a wad of hand towels, running them under the faucet. He knows what she's trying to say, that the assault wasn't sexual, but the small margin of relief he feels isn't enough to convince him she's okay. "Here, let me," he offers softly, dabbing the crimson caked around her hairline. The wound isn't deep but she should get checked out by a doctor, and they need to call the police. But his first priority is calming her down so she'll listen, and he throws a glance at the mirror where the door is reflected, beyond glad he and Harvey decided to work late tonight.
Donna catches his wayward look and pulls back, flinching as her hip bumps the sink.
It takes him a second to register what spooked her, but then he realizes she's Donna. He doesn't actually have to say Harvey's name out loud for her to hear it."You can't hide this from him, Donna. Even if you could, it's Harvey." He scrunches up the paper, tossing it in the bin with a small sigh. "Whatever's going on between you two, he'll want to help." And Harvey would be devastated if he found out after the fact she was hurt. But the last thing he wants to do is pressure her, and he feels a stab of guilt when she pales, her arms trembling as she shrugs them around her waist.
"I can't, Mike." She winces, scared to death of Harvey finding out, because Mike is right. Harvey will take one look at her and drop everything, his eyes telling her he cares, only for him to turn around tonight, tomorrow or the next day, and claim she's reading into something that doesn't exist. She's barely holding it together as it is and will come apart the second Harvey sees her like this.
Her breath hitches and he gently slips his hands over her shoulders. "Okay, hey. It's okay." He has no idea what to do and no confidence in his instincts after last time, but they're all telling him the same thing; that she's afraid to get hurt again, emotionally and not just physically… but Harvey would move heaven and earth to be here for her right now. "Do you trust me?" he asks, relying on her answer. Because even though she's the one in shock, he has more faith in her judgment than his own, and when she nods, he's mindful of her injuries as he brushes his lips against her temple. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
As soon as the door closes, he breaks into a jog, closing the distance between the female toilets and Harvey's office, and he hangs onto the glass frame with a pant, meeting the man's fast sarcasm.
"Didn't I just kick your ugly mug out of here?"
"Donna," Mike gulps, watching the one word have the effect he knew it would. Harvey tenses, sliding his chair back, and he snaps his hands up in warning. "I need you to listen."
To his surprise, Harvey stays perfectly still as he catches his breath. And, shit. Factoring in what Donna needs along with Harvey's just became an invertible matrix. He needs the man not to overact, but he also needs Harvey to know Donna's in a bad way. "She was mugged—"
"Where is she?!" Harvey flies forward, growling when Mike blocks his path. "Damnit, Mike, move—"
"No." He chokes on the word, scared of the anger seething in Harvey's gaze, but he'll take a hit if it means protecting Donna. "Listen to me… She's hurt, Harvey." The color drains from the man's face, and Mike feels bad for scaring him, but the lapse gives him a few seconds to tap into Harvey's guard being down. "She's going to be fine, but she's in shock, and when I mentioned you were here…"
Harvey flinches, preparing himself for the blow that she doesn't want to see him. Things have been strained between them the past couple of weeks, and he should have reached out sooner, but the blow he's waiting for doesn't come. Instead, Mike fixes him with a look that speaks to hard truths, words he already wants to refute but doesn't. Because there are few people he actually listens to, but Donna is one of them, and Mike is the other.
"I know you would do anything for her," Mike says candidly, bracing himself for a backlash. "But after everything that's happened, you being Donna's friend right now isn't what she needs."
Harvey clenches and unclenches his fists, trying to make sense of the advice. "What are you saying?"
Mike takes a deep breath, aware he's treading thin ice. He's always come second to Donna, and he's always respected that. But their loyalties are invested in more than just the strongest friendships tying them together. He's willing to fall on his sword for Donna, just like Donna would for Rachel or Rachel would for Harvey because they're a family. "I'm saying that if you can't walk away, you need to accept why that is, and if you can't find a reason..." He swings back a step, leveling his gaze. "You need to think about everything Donna's been through tonight and ask yourself if staying is fair on her."
Everything she's been through tonight. Harvey considers the phrase angrily, not knowing what she's goddamn been through. Donna shutting him out and Mike's warning hurts almost as much as the images he's conjuring up in his mind. But he wants—needs—to see her, and he can accept why. He's been gearing up to put his feelings into words since he tore up her resignation. This wasn't the push he expected but he'll be damned if he's going to ignore it. "Where is she?"
Mike inwardly sighs, hoping he's doing the right thing. "Female toilets."
Harvey disappears in a flash, and he pulls out his phone, calling Rachel. Because if he did just make a huge mistake, he's going to need her help to fix it.
The door to the bathroom pushes open and Donna glances up from where she's sitting on the tiles, annoyed at herself for not working up the courage to leave while she had the chance, because Harvey does exactly what she knew he would. He stops, takes a breath to rein in his anger, then kneels down, his expensive suit crumpling over the dirty floor as his eyes flood with concern.
He can see the obvious injuries; a bruise on her cheek, the cut on her forehead, and the scuffs where her knees are pulled up close to her chest. But it's what's possibly being concealed that worries him the most. "Where does it hurt?"
She grips her wrist with a tight squeeze, forcing her focus away from all the aches and pains. "It's a couple of scrapes." His head tilts, unconvinced, and she darts her gaze away feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "You've had worse," she shrugs, her eyes fixing on the stalls behind him.
"We're not talking about me." For one, he's never been mugged before, and a few brawls or boxing injuries aren't the same. "What happened?"
"I was walking home, someone grabbed my purse." She downplays the encounter, not ready to face it herself. The flashes are still too raw, and she's embarrassed that she wasn't more aware of her surroundings, ashamed of the fear she can't shake. But maybe Mike was right. Because with Harvey in front of her, all she wants to do is find the strength to stand on her own.
She moves gingerly and Harvey reaches out to help, sighing when she flinches away, using the wall to pull herself up.
"I'm fine…I just need to get my spare keys."
He holds back as she takes a shallow breath, tucking an arm under her ribs with a shaky step around him. There isn't anything she could do or say to convince him she's fine, but she earns points for stubbornness by refusing to lean on the palm he hovers behind her.
They enter her office and she slants heavily over the desk, pulling open her drawer, and he blows a frustrated puff of air into his cheeks. He's let her get away with proving enough. The fact she even thinks he would send her anywhere alone right now just shows how messed up things have gotten between them, making him realize Mike was right to be protective of her. A cowardly part of him even almost wants to let the man step back in. At least then she might be more inclined to listen. But Mike asked him to think about what was fair, and that's showing Donna he's here for her.
"Donna, stop," he warns cautiously. "You're hurt. You don't have a phone or money for a cab..."
She fishes out her keys, ignoring the point he has. She'll figure something out, and closes the drawer, stumbling when his broad chest blocks her path. His hands grip her waist, the smell of his cologne making her dizzy and lightheaded, and she has no choice but to lean on him.
"I've got you," he says carefully. "Let me help." She doesn't respond but doesn't push him away either, and he sweeps her hair back, getting a better look at the cut grazing her forehead. "Nauseous?" he asks, suspecting she probably has a mild concussion.
She nods, giving in with a heavy sigh. "A little."
"Come on, sit down." He leads her across to the couch, catching Mike in his peripheral, and he sits her down, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "I'll get some water. No doing a runner, okay?"
She thinks about quipping that would be more his style, but there's no sense making the tension between them any more awkward.
He can get her home.
That's all she's asking, nothing more.
As soon as Harvey closes the door, Mike practically pounces on him.
"I called Rachel. Is Donna okay? Should we call the police?"
Harvey shakes his head. "Not tonight." He would take her straight down to emergency himself if he thought she would go, but he's had enough experience dealing with her stubbornness to know they should take the small wins where they can get them. "Find Rachel, go home. I'll take care of her."
Mike glances through the window to where Donna is sitting. He's been worried involving Harvey was the wrong call but is hopeful if things were going to have gone south, they would have by now, and he eyes the man carefully. "Harvey, are you sure?"
"I am." There's not a trace of hesitation in his voice. Maybe he isn't the best at comforting people but he's not backing down from this. "I'll check in with you later."
Mike breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay." He's admittedly surprised, although he probably shouldn't be. What Donna went through was terrible but the ordeal was clearly enough to drive Harvey's emotions close enough to the surface for the man to access. And it's about time. "She feels the same way," he offers reassuringly, sure of the fact, and patting Harvey's arm. "Just remember to use words. There's this thing called a dictionary if you get stuck."
Harvey glares at the kid, but the truth is, Mike's trusting him not to screw this up, and he wouldn't be standing where he is without the younger man's support. So instead of answering with a wisecrack, he moves into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and spending far too long slamming cupboards in search of a first-aid kit. Eventually he finds it behind some dried pruney shit, and he heads back, relieved Donna is right where he left her.
The medical supplies land on the floor and he uncaps the drink as he sits beside her. She guzzles down the liquid as he opens the box between his feet, scrounging through random ointments until he finds a stack of antibacterial wipes. He tears one open, turning to her as she clutches the bottle with a hesitant breath.
"You don't have to—"
"You don't have to either." He takes the crumpled plastic from her grasp, implying she doesn't have to keep her guard up.
She relents, closing her eyes, but the gentle sting isn't what hurts. She can't ignore how tender he's being, how close he is, and it's too much. He isn't a safe place. She can't just turn into his arms and let everything come pouring out, and she firmly shoves his wrist away. "Harvey, stop."
He pulls back, glancing at the crimson towelette between his fingers. He isn't squeamish when it comes to blood but the fact it's Donna rattles him from the inside out, giving him the courage he needs to do what Mike said and find his words. "I know things have been—"
"Please, don't," she warns, not able to handle the conversation he's about to start. This morning she would have welcomed a chance to clear the air, but at 8am she didn't need him like she does now. "I just want to go home."
"What about what I want?" He knows he's an ass for throwing the comment out there. That this is the worst possible time to burden her with his needs. But if Mike's assurance was right, if he leans on his instincts, then he has faith both he and Donna want the same thing.
She stares at him, her heart racing and her throat dry again. Their problem's always been he doesn't know what he wants, and she has no reason to believe this is any different. "What's that?" she croaks, stiffening as he tosses the wipe and turns to face her.
"You." He lets the meaning behind the word sink in, before he slides his hand up, brushing his fingers delicately over her bruise. "I want to find the person who did this, make sure he rots in a cell for the rest of his life… " He takes a breath. "But tonight, I want to be with you… Every night," he corrects, "just so we're clear."
He smiles softly, and her lips tremble as he leans in to kiss her, stealing away all of her hesitation. Her body still hurts, but his soft caress makes her feel safe and warm, and she knows he isn't going anywhere.
They're going to figure this together, and she sinks into his arms, finally accepting she's not okay, but that she will be.