Chapter 3

He found her amidst the chaos, crumpled on the floor, blood staining her crisp blouse. Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as they sought to staunch the flow of blood.

"Donna," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, "stay with me, Donna."

Her eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus as she gazed up at him. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the weight of years of unspoken words and lingering regrets hanging heavy in the air between them.

"Harvey, I don't…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the chaos surrounding them. "I can't... breath..."

Her words trailed off, lost in the turmoil of the moment, and Harvey could not focus. He could feel her distress as his, her attempts to breath so painful that could break him. He did not know what was going on. He did not know if they were still in danger of the shooter re-approaching them. He did not care. None of it mattered because none of it was Donna. She was there, bleeding, hurting, struggling to breathe. She was getting more pale by the second. He noticed she was starting to twitch. He did not know what that was about. He did not like it one bit. Time was running out. He needed to snap out of it and act fast. He owed himself to at least help her out; nevermind what he owed her. That he could never repay. She gasped deeper, more desperate for air. She was not looking at him.

"Don't you dare give up on me, Donna," he pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. "You're stronger than this. You are Donna."

With every ounce of strength he possessed, Harvey pressed down harder on the wound, willing the bleeding to slow, to stop. But the seconds stretched into eternity, each heartbeat a painful that he could lose her.

No reply, but at least she focused back on him by tracing his voice. Her eyes glistening, not able to completely focus on his features. Yet, he knew she heard him.

It was Harvey. The man she trusted more than anyone else. Her boss. He asked her something. He looked like he was pushing her down but she could not feel it. Something was not adding up. She tried to recall what he just told her. She could not make out what that was. He was not ok. That much she could tell. Then she noticed something. She saw blood all over his white shirt. She felt cold and angry.

"You're bleeding," she muttered, worry lacing her voice. There was a chance she was wrong because she was not able to see clearly but she did her thing and even in that state, she put two and two together. There was danger around Harvey. She could always sense that. Donna has always known that Harvey -though not dense or stupid- liked to flirt with danger. He liked living on a constant high-stakes high usually afforded to him by job. He was getting the better end of it most times and he even made a name for himself as the New York's greatest closer. But still, she was always worried that one day he would piss off the wrong man and he would be hurt … or worse. "Harvey… Hurt…"

In a moment, amidst the chaos and the pain, Harvey and Donna found themselves suspended in time, their past mistakes and regrets fading into insignificance. All that mattered was the bond that had always tethered them together, unbreakable even in the face of tragedy.

Harvey said nothing at first. His focus was on minimizing the bleeding. He was not doing well, he thought. She was getting even more spasm-y and he took that as a bad sign. He noticed she was trying to focus on him once more. It did not feel right. She was struggling. "You're bleeding. Harvey. Hurt" was all she mustered to say to him. It was not making sense. Then he realized she must not have realized all this blood on him was hers. He felt a sharp pain in his gut. She was worried about him. She put him first. Again. Even now. Even as she was laying on the floor, nearly exsanguinated. The pain was not going away. The sharpness of it there like a knife twisting around his senses. He felt like crying only to realize that he already was.

"Donna stay with me. Don't worry. The ambulance is on its way. Donna, the goddamn blood is not mine. It's yours." he bitterly explained. He thought she was too far gone to hear him as he noticed her eyes were now shut but before the thought could register, he heard her say "Thank God". He felt like he was giving up pressing her wound. His muscles were starting to give out. "Son of a bitch". He pressed harder and harder. She was so pale. "Donna? Donna? Donna!".

As sirens wailed in the distance and the first responders swarmed into the building, Harvey held Donna close, vowing silently to fight for her, to make amends for all the words left unspoken and the chances left unclaimed.

For in that moment, as they clung to each other amidst the bloodshed and the chaos, they knew that their redemption lay not in the battles they had won, but in the love they had found in the midst of loss.