Five Slump Days (and one that isn't)

AN: This a prequel to the previous chapter Slump Day. It makes more sense to read that one first :) But it's five times over the years Donna's had a bad day, and how Harvey grows to adapt to them. And one time he doesn't have to, sorta ;)

…

I.

Tense, irritated, and angry, Harvey flies out of his office, screeching at his secretary. "What the hell, Donna!?"

There's so much noise in the DA's office no one bats an eyelid at his outburst. And Donna quickly snatches the affidavit he asked her to get signed two hours ago, picking up the phone.

"Yes, hello… Is this—"

"Mario's pizza, we put the MARI-onade in—"

She slams the receiver down, realizing she called Harvey's lunch order instead of his witness. "Mrs Sturgess will sign it," she says, picking up the phone again and dialing the correct number this time.

"She'd goddamn better! I have court in two hours," he snaps, storming back into his office. It's fair to say he should have been more organized. But for seven months, Donna has been flawlessly anticipating his needs. Today, however, there has been one screw up after the next. If he didn't know better, he'd think aliens had body snatched his usually competent secretary and replaced her with a bumbling clone.

Sinking down into his chair, he rubs his temples, not sure how he's going to explain any of her mishaps to the District Attorney. His first instinct should be to tell Cameron the truth and let the chips fall where they may. But Donna isn't just a temp. She's someone who usually makes his life easier.

So, later that evening, when Cameron rakes him over hot coals because they didn't have a signed affidavit in court, he makes up some bullshit story about the evidence being a liability anyway.

Then he goes out and loses big in poker.

Because he managed to do his job, and bluff his boss, but his personal time takes the brunt of his unease. What if Donna hit her head and that's why she's acting weirdly? What if she's perfectly fine but having trouble at home. What if tomorrow's the same shit-show and he has to fire her?

Fifty grand in the wind and he cuts his losses, going home to obsess over why he's obsessing so much in the first place.

…

The next morning Harvey arrives to find Donna leaning against his desk, legs crossed confidently at her ankles as she thrusts a coffee in his hand and starts speed talking him through his day.

She sounds completely back to normal, doesn't mention anything about steering him into an iceberg yesterday, and finally—someone on his desk who knows how to cut through bullshit and get on with the job.

He doesn't need to ask himself why Donna's different—she just is.

That's not a gamble, it's a safe bet.

...

II.

Donna's third year in at the DA's, she sinks her head in her hands, groaning at the onslaught of colorful blocks that magically appeared in Harvey's calendar. He hates having back-to-back meetings. But somehow between arriving and checking his diary, tripping over her phone cord and pulling out the network cables to her computer—a man from IT is still fumbling under her desk—Harvey's entire day has changed.

He's going to be pissed.

Except, when her boss stalks out, he looks more awkward than annoyed—probably something to do with the ass sticking out next to her chair.

Harvey deliberately ignores the blue jiggling slacks, shrugging into his jacket and clearing his throat. "I'm heading out."

Confused by his calm demeanor, Donna narrows her gaze. "Didn't you want me to—"

"It can wait until tomorrow." He propels himself forward past Bertha's amused gaze, and out of Donna's vicinity.

Contrary to the rumors in circulation, he actually does pay attention to other people sometimes. And even if he didn't, Donna's off day—a term he coins as he hurriedly leaves the building—is a pretty hard thing to fucking miss.

For the past two years, he's been swept up into a phenomenon that makes entirely no sense. He's not superstitious. He doesn't believe in voodoo or curses. But, twice is a coincidence. Three times makes him the fool. So, when he saw her fly over her feet in front of the entire office, his hand flew to his mouse to re-arrange all his appointments.

A jerk move, maybe.

But he's doing them both a favor. With him out working his ass off, all she has to do is sit there and do nothing—a task that hopefully won't get either of them fired.

Then he suddenly remembers Jed... Jarrod, Jake? Some ADA asshole he exchanged numbers with at Crew last time they were all there. He was sniffing around Donna like a wounded puppy, and he pulls out his phone—another jerk move—telling the guy Donna is free for the afternoon and he should take her to lunch.

Satisfied he's just killed two birds with one stone, he pushes down his guilt, and slight fear the pair will hit it off. If there's anyone he's grown to have faith in, it's Donna—even on her worst days.

…

Later that night, exhausted and reveling in the silence of his apartment, Harvey sinks into his leather chair with a glass of whiskey.

The day took a physical and mental toll on him. But he didn't receive a single call from Cameron or Donna. Which he assumes means they both still have jobs to go to tomorrow.

And thank God.

Because he needs Donna to stop him from doing dumb shit, like moving all his appointments for the week into one day.

Idly thumbing his phone, he wonders if she did end up going out with… Jason? But rather than text her, he finds Justin in his contacts, and casually asks how lunch went. When the man replies with 'she's a dud, bro', he deletes and blocks the prick's number.

And the next morning, before Donna can draw in air to speed-talk him through his day, he clutches the print-out of his diary and tells her to follow him.

Granted, the breakfast he buys them at the café across the street isn't lavish. But he hopes his company is a fraction better than what she had to endure with James. Which it must be. Because they cut through the bullshit then they stay for a second coffee.

And, for once, he doesn't mind the detour.

...

III.

Since they first met, Harvey's never seen Jessica as furious as she is now, circling like a tiger or shark, maybe a hybrid of both—a tiger-shark. Or something angrier, like…

"Are you even goddam listening to me!"

She prowls in front of him, and admittedly he tuned out around five minutes into her verbal lashing.

He gets it—he fucked up.

Except he didn't, Donna did. Only he's not going to highlight that distinction to Jessica.

Tomorrow, his secretary will miraculously fix all the chaos she generated—she always does. All Jessica needs is a scapegoat until then.

So, when she starts stalking her office again, he stands up, squares his shoulders and swallows his pride.

"I made a mistake, Jessica. It won't happen again."

The restlessness coursing through Jessica jams, and she jerks to a halt, facing away from Harvey—worried he'll see her facade slip. Her fury is genuine. But, so is the smirk that rises like a Phoenix and dies in the ashes on her lips.

She has her finger on the pulse of everything that goes on under her roof. And she's riding him hard, because she wanted to know if he'd throw his secretary under the bus to save his own skin. He didn't—passing her test.

"You're damn right it won't!" she snaps, flourishing her hand at the door. "Get out before I come to my senses and fire you."

There's no snappy comeback, nothing. Just the shuffle of his feet before her door swings closed, and she'll be damned.

Her biggest concern when it comes to Harvey is that he's incapable of putting his ego aside and showing empathy. Yet, for reasons she doesn't care to delve into, Donna Paulsen brings out his humanity. Which is lucky for the redhead, because after today, that's the only reason the woman still has a job.

Shaking her head, Jessica swoops down into the chair behind her desk. Harvey's going to be the death of her career one day.

She's certain of it.

...

IV.

Out of the corner of Harvey's eye, he spots Mike striding up to Donna's cubicle, the kid's voice ringing higher than usual.

"I gave you the patent an hour ago, Donna!"

Without lifting his gaze, Harvey shouts at his open door. "Fill it out again, Mike!" Like the other four times he's intervened, Mike flings his arms up, storming off in a frustrated huff, and Harvey continues working.

His door is open for a reason today. Because without Donna, he would never have made junior partner. So, he made a pact with himself that whenever her off day rolls around, he isn't just going to take the fall for her, he's also her buffer now, too.

Plus, the ergonomics are in his favor. Anything she screws up is a reflection on him, a solid argument he's told Mike countless times before.

Something he consequently has to alter and tell the kid again, after Donna's gone home, and Mike finally grows a pair of balls—asking him what the hell has been going on all day. And he's relieved by the kids' dumbfounded silence, but only for a moment.

"So, let me get this straight." Mike sits with Harvey's explanation for a moment, trying to orient the pieces. "You're saying that once a year, for no reason at all, Donna becomes the Antichrist."

It's not quite how Harvey worded the phenomenon. But calamity, mayhem and chaos are sticking points for his defense. If she were acting maliciously, Mike's reference would actually come pretty close. "There was the time she almost burned down the partner's kitchen…" he smirks, "but I pinned that on Louis."

"Harvey, that's ridiculous. Not the part about Louis. That's actually funny."

He grins. "Right."

"You're the most logical person I know," Mike explains. "You can't seriously be telling me Donna's cursed."

"I didn't say that," he argues. "But you saw her today." He leans back in his chair, the skepticism in Mike's expression triggering his compulsion to make a bet. "How about this? If Donna slips up even once tomorrow, I'll give you anything you can see in this office."

"You don't mean that," Mike snorts. He knows for a fact there's a catch, because Harvey's basketball signed by Michael Jordan is in clear view."

"No catch." Harvey answers the unspoken question. "I swear on Louis' balding head, nothing is off limits. But when I win…" he leans forward, circling his pen around the kid's silhouette, "you have to buy yourself three decent suits, and actually wear them."

Mike rolls his eyes. "You could have me doing your discovery for a month, but you'd rather turn me into a Ken doll?"

"First rule of gambling, Mike. Don't bet a reward that could come back to bite you in the ass."

And if he messed up, that would look bad on Harvey, which suddenly gets Mike thinking.

"You said this has happened to Donna before. Yet, instead of sending her home, you spent all day running interference." He narrows his gaze suspiciously. "She doesn't know that you know. And you don't want her to know that you know that she screwed up."

Even if Harvey could follow whatever the hell Mike's talking about, he's not interested in figuring out the kid's point. "So?"

"So, all that bullshit about protecting your reputation is a lie. Whenever this happens, you put yourself on the line because you don't want Donna feeling bad about herself."

"Bet's off. Get out."

Harvey swivels back to his laptop, and Mike can barely contain his grin as he obeys the terse command.

...

V.

Harvey steps out of the elevator, Louis' screaming voice carrying from Donna's desk to the floor's reception for the fourth time this morning.

In the three weeks she's been with Louis, the man has probably been bathing like a pig in mud—literally. And he's willing to bet Donna's been lapping up all her new boss' gratitude and novelty gifts. So, he doesn't bat an eyelid as he continues straight. Donna wanted to work under a man who showed more emotion. As far as he's concerned, she got her goddamn wish.

Storming into his office, he flinches when he sees Rachel. "Whatever it is, I'm busy," he snaps.

He drops like a stone into his chair, and Rachel, fired up with nervous energy, stubbornly ignores the dismal. "When Donna left, I put in double the hours to do her work and find you a new secretary. Do you know why I did that?"

"You want penalty rates, go to HR. We're done here."

"I helped you, Harvey, because being in your corner is the only way I could support Donna." Her tone is angry, engulfed by frustration. "It was more important to her knowing you were okay than having someone she could talk to."

"Then she shouldn't have goddamn left me for someone else!" he growls, clenching his fist so hard something 'pops' and he's forced to release his rage, slamming up walls to keep it contained. "If you want to go braid Donna's hair, that's fine by me. But the actual lawyers at this firm, those of us who passed the bar without breaking a sweat, are busy working, not running around like goddamn children in kindergarten."

"Wow." Rachel stares at him, not able to believe he would throw how hard she's worked so callously back in her face. But she refuses to let the attack cripple her. "I came here because I thought Louis was being unfairly cruel to Donna. That you might care. But if you can speak to me like that, then clearly I was wasting my time."

She turns on her heels, her body trembling with adrenaline as she stalks to his door, barely hearing him over the blood rushing between her ears.

"I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" Worried she imagined the apology, she turns around, astounded to see him awkwardly shifting in his chair, looking anywhere but at her directly.

Finally he meets her gaze, glaring. He's not going to repeat himself. And he's not forgiving her for sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong. But he was out of line bringing her work ethic into question. "I shouldn't have belittled the job you've been doing. You're going to make a good lawyer."

She folds her arms across her chest expectantly and he sighs. Like paying for a percentage of Donna's wage out of pocket, there are things he used to do not for recognition, but because he cares about her. Between all the bitterness and hurt, he lost sight of that. They may not be on speaking terms, but today of all days, he can find it within himself to put her first. "I'll talk to Louis."

"Thank you, Harvey."

He leaves, knowing full well he doesn't deserve any of Rachel's gratitude. She's right, he has been being cruel, and maybe it's time he found a way to accept that Donna left him, and she's not coming back.

...

V.

Harvey groans as he removes the ice from between his legs, the spilt hot coffee on Specter Junior ringing in precisely which day it is in the calendar of Donna—his wife for almost a year now. And to hell with not interfering in her work.

Granted, when she said she didn't want to work at Mike and Rachel's firm, they—he—took some time adjusting. A week after she started at the theater company, the seven calls he made to reception because her phone was off didn't go down well with her boss.

But since then he's smoothed things over with Joanna. So, he only feels slightly guilty when he rings up without Donna's permission, calling in a sick day on her behalf.

Yet, the decision is somewhat vindicated as he hobbles back to their bedroom, stepping over shards from the vase she somehow managed to send flying. So far this morning, his wife's brain-fog, dopiness, and penchant for saying the wrong thing are taking home Silver with her clumsiness bringing in the Gold.

Entering their room, he cups the freezing limpness in his pyjama pants, willing some life back into his manhood, when he spots Donna coming—tripping—out of their ensuite. She bangs her elbow on the door that also happens to save her, but he's already moving towards her with a fast shake of his head. "That's it."

He ignores her squeak as he swoops her up, saving whatever precious ornaments, pictures and furniture are between the ensuite and their mattress; including his wife. "I should have said this years ago. But you're staying at home today. I've already called Joanna. And before you get mad, I have a very sensitive appendage that may never have a solid argument again. Remember that."

She lands gently in the safety of their bedding, trying not to laugh as he pants above her. She isn't angry—he's right. Going into work today would have undoubtedly been a disaster. Though her amusement dampens as her fingers graze the cold spot on the front of his pyjama pants. "I really am sorry."

"I know," he sighs, just happy she seems to be listening. "Does this mean you'll stay home?"

She smiles sheepishly, nodding.

"And you won't leave this bed?" He feathers his hand through her hair, suspecting he's pushing his luck with his last request.

She concedes, giving in to his warm brown eyes. "I'll try."

Reaching up, she kisses him softly, and he groans as his blood rushes south, resulting in a stinging throb.

She feels him wince, and pushes him back, her lashes fluttering over her guilt gaze. "I'll be right here when you get back. Promise."

"Call me if the bed breaks," he chuckles, only half-joking.

…

Surprisingly, and to her own astonishment, Donna sleeps for fourteen hours straight. And when she wakes her phone isn't alight with panic or things that have gone wrong. There's only two messages from Harvey, but before she can respond, she hears their front door open, and she gets out of bed, slipping on her robe and meeting him in the kitchen. "Hey."

"Hi." He places down the takeaway he brought home, pulling her into her arms. When he didn't hear from her all day, he was admittedly a little worried. But she seems fine, and their apartment looks like it's still one piece. "How did everything go?"

"Actually, I just woke up." She yawns, smiling. She no longer feels muddled or like her limbs aren't attached to her body. And she wonders if maybe the universe hasn't been cursing her with misfortune all these years. Perhaps the magics were simply trying to give her time off to recharge her batteries. "I feel great. I think all I needed was a day in bed."

The urge to bang his forehead against the nearest wall makes him laugh out loud. "You couldn't have thought of that two decades ago?"

"You didn't think of it either." She grins, skating her hands down his chest. "Admit it. You liked being my secret vigilante."

"Maybe." He shrugs. In spite of all the inconveniences her slump days have caused him, she's right. He did feel kinda good whenever it was his turn to steer her out of danger. Even though he wishes he'd been able to see what that really meant at the time. "But I guess after today, you won't need a knight in shining armor anymore, huh?"

"Let's not get too hasty." She tugs his sweater with a smirk. After all, there has been the rare occasion he's gotten her out of trouble on an ordinary day. "Speaking of knights…" She gazes down and back up, biting her lip sheepishly. "How's your steed doing?"

He snorts, digging his palms into the small of her back and tugging her closer. "Why don't we go to the bedroom, and you tell me?"

"Why go to the bedroom?" she purrs, lacing her fingers through the knot of his tie.

It's on the floor in seconds, and suddenly he's the one with brain-fog, dizzy with anticipation as she kisses him with no sign of her earlier clumsiness.

Next year, he might just take the day off with her. And they can both stay in bed.