Port in a Storm

It's late, nearing nine when Donna floats the document needing Harvey's signature in front of her boss. The ink from his pen slurs across the page, barely legible, but she doesn't have the energy to correct his poor penmanship.

Harvey goes to hand her the agreement back, pulling it slightly out of her grasp with a curious look. Since he made junior partner, they've been running themselves ragged, but the past couple of days he's noticed something off with his secretary—beyond their combined exhaustion.

"Everything okay? You seem…"

He isn't sure how to articulate his concern. Her work has been flawless, and she hasn't complained about the overtime they've been doing. He just has a niggling feeling she's off her game, like an irritating itch he can't scratch.

Taking the ledger, she taps the page with a jittery finger. "I'm fine. Just tired."

She seems distracted, which from previous experience tells him she's dealing with something personal, and he's hesitant to say any more. He avoids prying into other people's lives whenever he can. Yet, as she leaves, stalling at the threshold of his office instead of crossing over, his worry creeps in, taking up residence when she closes the door and walks back to him, expelling a shaky breath.

"Can I pour us a drink?"

"Sure." He nods, his throat suddenly dry. Donna doesn't ask permission for anything. Same as him she acts as she pleases, and he watches her move to his decanter, then across to his couch with the two glasses in hand. Taking the cue to join her, he chooses to sit in the leather chair, close but not inappropriately so.

Leaning over, he washes down his anxiety with a sip of whiskey—the alcohol welcome but not really comforting. He suspects he's about to be blindsided and forces himself to face the news she's going to spring. "What's going on?"

She stares at the amber liquid in her glass with a guilty sigh. "I need to take leave. I know the timing is terrible and I hate having to ask, it's just…" She breathes in deeply. "My sister is in the hospital. I wasn't going to go up there, but my parents are still finalizing their divorce and the whole situation is a mess."

Placing her whiskey on the coffee table, she scrubs her face, embarrassed by the urge to cry welling up in her throat. Harvey is a good man, but he doesn't like to be burdened with other people's emotions, and she feels completely defeated. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, her quivering lip leading him to set his drink next to hers. He probably shouldn't be relieved that family drama is the cause for her turmoil. But as far as worst-case scenarios go, she isn't the one who needs medical care, and he folds his palm over her knee, grounding himself, even though she could have easily avoided scaring him half to death. "You could have come to me sooner. If something's going wrong in your life, Donna, you can talk to me. Always."

His compassion stirs a fresh wave of tears, the worry she's been trying to push down rising up in a fragile bubble. And all she can do to keep it from bursting is nod.

He can see how hard she's fighting to stay in control, but she doesn't have to. He may not like showing his emotions, but he'd cut off his own arm for Donna if that meant sparing her pain.

"Come here." He lifts his palm to her elbow and pulls her into a hug, his fingers brushing lightly at the small of her back. "It'll be okay."

His assurance washes over her, and she siphons his strength—hope soothing the ache in her chest.

"Thank you, Harvey."

He lingers for a few more moments before letting her go, realizing the tiny glimmer in her gaze is the missing piece that's been alluding him. Funny, because he didn't even know his balance was off kilter until his inner axis suddenly rights itself and he's at ease again. Enough so that he can focus on her problem. This isn't the first he's heard about her parents separating. She's mentioned their divorce once or twice in passing. But in the five years they've worked together, she told him she had a sibling. "Your sister. She okay?"

"She'll live." Donna finds her drink again, relishing the burn as she swallows a large sip, annoyed that she can't find it within herself to be more sympathetic. "There was a complication with a plastic surgery procedure. Heaven forbid she ages a day over twenty-five."

The disdain in her tone is evident, and Harvey smirks. "She obviously doesn't have your good genes, then."

Donna rolls her eyes at the fishing compliment. "This is…. was my father's second marriage. My sister's much older and we're not close."

They didn't grow up together, and her sibling is the epitome of shallow and condescending, but she answers her internal dilemma with a shrug.

"She's family."

His own estrangement tightens his chest, and he finishes his last finger of his whiskey. He has no desire to repair the damage his mother's affair caused, but he respects Donna for her loyalty—always has.

"Take as much time as you need," he says seriously. Then he smiles. "I'll try not to do any stupid shit while you're gone."

She chuckles, feeling lighter since she's unburdened herself. "I appreciate that." Even more so, she's grateful to have his support. "Don't worry." Holding his warm gaze, her cheeks tingle as she teases him. "I won't tell anyone you're a closeted softie."

"You better not. Because Louis can cry all he wants, he's never getting a hug out of me."

Their glasses meet on the table, and she stands up with him, conveying her gratitude with a genuine smile. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Why don't you call it a night?"

Lately they've been leaving together, but he feels guilty now he knows that she's been moonlighting her own personal crisis. "We'll tie up any loose ends tomorrow morning. Then you can take the afternoon and figure out your plans."

"Okay," she agrees, following him until their paths diverge. He sits back down at his desk and she strides to his door.

"Donna."

She stalls, turning around, and he subtly gnaws the inside of his cheek. He doesn't like to be perceived as approachable by his colleagues. He isn't at the firm to make friends or suck up to Jessica by taking pro bonos. But he trusts Donna with his life. That's the reason they work. And he may not say it often or ever, but he would never deny her anything she needs.

"Get home safe."

Somehow his thoughts get lost in translation, but her lips quirk knowingly before she leaves, and he relaxes as his door gently swings closed. However long she takes off is already too much time, but he'll force himself to manage, because she's his port in a storm.

She'll come back to him and they'll both be okay.