Harvey rushes outside the courtroom, bumping into people on his way, and looks around, but Donna is nowhere to be found. He checks the unisex restroom, calling out for her, but there's still no sign of his wife.
He nearly collides with Alex on his way out, groaning as their bodies make contact. Harvey curses under his breath, then meets Alex's gaze.
"Where is she?" He sounds desperate as he says it, his voice appearing like a water droplet in a cascade. "Donna… Have you seen her?"
"She said she wasn't feeling well. And if she's not in there, then… I guess she called a cab," Alex mumbles, shifting a bit uneasily on his heels.
"Did she mention where she was going?" Harvey presses on, one hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "Alex," he snarls, almost shouting.
"N-No, Harvey," Alex sighs, "She just left."
"Fuck!"
Now he's shouting.
His mind is racing a mile a minute.
He's a mess of emotions.
A ball of anxiety.
There's even a part of his brain that wants to convince him that Thorne deceived him. That the opposing side handed him the ammunition in false pretense, knowing the barb would hit its mark with deadly accuracy. But Harvey knows he's the only one at fault here.
No one forced him to say those words. To say something that cruel. He can only imagine what Donna must've felt when she heard him act like he's never even wasted a thought on adopting Lucy. Not once these past few weeks. That it isn't what his heart desires.
But it is.
It is.
Because the thought of anyone else raising Lucy, being her father, tears at his insides. His heart. His damn soul.
And the guilt over not making that clear to Donna – before there was even the slightest chance of it being addressed in court – threatens to swallow him whole, a palpable force applying pressure on his chest each time he tries to breathe.
"Excuse me, Alex," Harvey mumbles as he leaves to find a quiet corner in the courthouse.
He hits the call button, but it goes straight to voicemail. Do not disturb, he repeats in his mind like a mantra to ward off the creeping fear that Donna might actually be avoiding him. Courtroom policy… Her phone must still be on silent.
'Where are you?' he texts her.
Then, his fingers betray him, composing a simple 'I'm sorry' that feels utterly inadequate, a half-hearted attempt at an apology that he swiftly deletes. Instead, he asks her if she's okay.
On second thought, he hates how much it sounds like he's pretending not to know why she might not be okay, so he types 'I'm sorry' again. His finger hovers over the send button… No, the message feels hollow, a poor substitute for the raw mea culpa churning in his gut.
He needs to see her and apologize properly. He needs to see the hurt in her eyes – and the forgiveness he desperately hopes follows – not communicate through sterile texts. And he needs to do it now, though that requires finding her first.
Harvey shoves his phone back into his pocket and heads toward the exit, but just as he attempts to slip out onto the streets, someone grabs him by the arm and yanks him back.
"Where do you think you're going?" Samantha hisses.
"I have to go find my wife."
"No, you're not done here. We have to get back into that courtroom in ten minutes. Don't let Thorne win, for God's sake. Don't let him be right."
"Right about what?" Harvey growls.
"About you not being in control of your emotions," she argues. "Damn it, Harvey! Whatever's going on between you and Donna, it must wait."
"She needs me, Samantha."
"I need you," she shouts at him. "Your client, Lucy, Louis and Sheila… They all need you." She inhales and exhales deeply to calm herself. "You said this is a fight we can only win as a team. Well, now I'm telling you, I desperately need my teammate. If you leave…"
Harvey stares at her intently, feeling like he's already one foot out that door. Just another step and he's gone.
But he can't deny that his actions would torpedo the case they opened and destroy everything they've worked on in the last few weeks. He can't do that to Samantha. He can't do that to Cleo. To Louis and Sheila. Lucy.
As much as he loves Donna, as much as he feels the need to apologize to her, she will still be there when he's done. But if he leaves now, this won't be. He can't do it.
"I hurt her…" Harvey sighs so deeply and sorrowfully that his shoulders and chest rise and then crash down. "I shouldn't have let Thorne get to me. I shouldn't have said… I didn't mean it."
"What are you talking about?" Samantha wonders.
"It doesn't matter now," he mutters, pushing past her with seemingly newfound enthusiasm. "Let's win this damn thing!"
•••
As the cab comes to a halt, Donna slumps deeper into the worn leather seat. She sits motionless for a few minutes, with her gaze fixed on a point beyond the windshield, thinking about the events of the day.
There had been such highs, like signing the contract for their new home, and letting Dr. Rivera know they finally found a place to live. Spending a few minutes with Lucy before the trial, telling her about the amazing view, the fireplace, and the beautiful room she would have.
Then Donna thinks about the raw exchange with Harvey in court. How she flinched away from his gaze first, then looked at him like she would burst into tears at any moment.
She still doesn't understand why it had to happen, why he said those things after weeks of focusing on building a future with Lucy. It feels like a betrayal, a crack in the foundation they've been carefully constructing.
She wishes she knew why it all mattered so little to him. Is it possible she's misread everything? That maybe Harvey doesn't want to keep Lucy after all, doesn't want to be a father, and she, too infatuated with the idea of them becoming a family, didn't see the signs?
A lump the size of a walnut lodges itself in Donna's throat then and tears prick at her eyes. Perhaps, deep down, she sensed Harvey's reluctance, but pushed those doubts aside to protect her own heart.
She doesn't regret leaving the courtroom. She couldn't stay there, not when every fiber of her being screamed with a cocktail of anger and hurt. So, she did the only thing she could – she got out.
"Ma'am?" the driver speaks up, his voice barely registering through the fog of her emotions. "Are you okay?"
Donna blinks, startled back to reality, and forces a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Taking a deep breath, she fumbles through her purse and pays the fare, then exits the cab.
The clatter of her heels echoes off the marble floor as she practically sprints through the building's entrance and into the elevator. But as she nears the apartment down the hallway, her hurried steps morph into a slow, almost reluctant shuffle.
She tried to reach out to her best friend earlier. On the day of Louis' funeral, Rachel promised her to always be there for her, that their bond will withstand distance – Donna holds onto that promise. But sometimes, a simple unanswered call can feel like a punch to the gut.
With Rachel and Mike gone, and now even Louis, New York feels a little too loud, a little too empty. Everywhere she turns, there's something reminding her of ghosts of the past. On bad days, it's even worse, like the walls are closing in on her even when she's surrounded by people.
She knows it's just the dark beast of depression breathing down her neck, and she's determined to fight it. To get her life back on track and make this city feel like her home again. But this loneliness is palpable, leaving a hole inside her heart that even Harvey might not be able to fill, no matter how much Donna loves him.
She feels nervous as she reaches Katrina's door. They haven't actually spoken much this past month, so coming here now feels selfish, like she's taking advantage of a relationship she spent no time nurturing. But she needs her. She needs someone to talk to. To understand.
Donna takes another deep breath and, with a shaky hand, raps her knuckles against the door. The wait feels like an eternity before the sound of footsteps approach from inside and the door swings open.
"Donna?" Katrina gives a startled gasp. "What are you doing here?"
Donna has felt mostly brave up to this point, but seeing Katrina suddenly overwhelms her. The tears she's been holding inside well up in her eyes and she feels them spill down her cheeks in a silent torrent.
"I didn't know where else to go," she croaks.
"Oh, Donna," Katrina sighs, her expression softening, replaced by a wave of concern as she drags the other woman inside and shuts the door behind them.
Before Donna can even react, she is pulled into a tight embrace. The dam holding back her emotions finally breaks and sobs wrack her body, hot tears soaking the fabric of Katrina's shoulder.
Katrina ushers her towards the couch, and as they sit down, she just holds her for a minute, rubbing soothing circles over her back. Eventually, Donna's sobs subside into a quiet sniffle, tears still glistening on her cheeks.
Reaching up, Katrina smooths a stray strand of hair from Donna's face. Then she grabs a tissue from the coffee table and presses it into Donna's hand, her eyes sweeping over the redhead's tear-streaked face.
"That trial… is it over? Did Harvey screw something up again? Did you lose? What happened?"
Donna wipes at her eyes, the tears leaving a smudged trail of mascara on her cheeks. Her hands fumble in her lap, trembling slightly, twisting a stray tissue into a soggy mess.
She forces herself to inhale, a shudder racking her body with the effort, the single word "Harvey" escaping in a strangled whisper. Squeezing her eyes shut, Donna wills herself to speak, but the words seem to catch in her throat.
"What about him?" Katrina presses gently, the concern in her eyes deepening with each passing second. "He and Samantha, they won the case, right?"
The vulnerability in Donna's eyes speaks volumes; the quiet despair that has replaced the initial storm of tears chills Katrina to the bone. Makes her realize this might be about something far deeper than the trial.
She clears her throat, her voice even softer now. "Hey, is everything okay between you and Harvey?"
Donna sinks deeper into the couch, the plush cushions offering little comfort. "I think he's having second thoughts about Lucy," she says, the words scraping raw against her throat. "Like the fantasy finally wore off, and now he's realizing what it actually means, and… Maybe he just doesn't want to be a dad."
A part of her, the optimistic part, clings to the hope it is just cold feet. But a deeper, more cynical voice whispers a different truth – maybe Harvey was deluding himself and never truly wanted this.
The thought tears at Donna's heart, stinging her eyes with unwanted tears. She's been nothing but an open wound since the moment she left, and she hates her own weakness.
"All this time I thought we were on the same page, but…" she chokes back a sob, "God, Katrina, how could I have been so blind? I know Harvey. Better than anyone. I should've known I'm asking too much."
Stroking her head, Katrina exhales a deep breath. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure he didn't really mean that."
Since she's busy with another case that requires her full attention – a deposition overlapped with the trial – she hasn't been present in the courtroom, but she's convinced that Harvey had good reason for saying what he did.
"You wanna know what I think?" she begins, "I think you're way too emotional right now and you might be overreacting a little."
When the look on Donna's face changes, her brow furrowing, Katrina chuckles softly.
"Hey, I'm not saying your emotions aren't valid. And I'm not saying he didn't fuck up. I just want you to think about putting some distance between you and this trial, and that includes Harvey… Just for a few hours."
Donna lets out a breath she didn't know she's been holding. "Every minute it just got worse," she murmurs.
"You didn't wanna be there in the first place, because you had a feeling you weren't ready, and you shouldn't have let Harvey talk you into it," Katrina argues, her voice still gentle. "That wasn't fair of him, because he knew you wouldn't say no if he begged. He should've been more empathetic."
"He said you were angry with him," Donna remarks with a half-smile, remembering when Harvey brought it up briefly in conversation.
"Yeah, because once I heard he'd asked you to be at the trial, I told that idiot what a dick he was for emotionally blackmailing you instead of allowing you to process your feelings and come to a decision on your own."
"He never would've asked me if he didn't think I'd be able to handle it."
She doesn't know why she's defending him, because the truth is, she actually agrees with Katrina. But what she does know is that Harvey would never do anything to hurt her on purpose.
"Right now, he's just… lost. He goes through the motions, but there's a hollowness in his eyes that breaks my heart," Donna confesses, her voice trembling.
"The closer we got to this trial, the more he retreated further and further into himself. He barely sleeps, throws himself into work, avoids any mention of Louis, even when we're with Lucy…"
She pauses, taking a shaky breath. "It's like he had a single burst of grief, then slammed the brakes on everything." Tears well in her eyes, forcing her to press her palms against them, a desperate attempt to dam the rising tide of emotion.
"I worry about him, Katrina. I don't need him to fall apart in front of me, I know he's grieving, but he's shutting a part of himself off. He seems afraid to feel, afraid to be weak around me. And I don't want him to go back to that… that place where he feels he has to hide parts of himself he thinks are unlovable."
"Did you tell him that?"
"Did I tell him?" she sighs. "I practically begged him to see a grief counselor with me."
"Any chance he'll go?"
"I hope so." Donna gives a helpless shrug. "But I won't force him. It has to be his choice."
She throws her head back to rest on the high cushions of the sofa, plops her feet on the coffee table, and crosses her ankles. She sits in silence for a few minutes, before leveling a look at Katrina.
"I want Harvey to be vulnerable with me, to let me see all of him, even the parts he thinks are ugly, but the last thing I want is for him to think I'm trying to change him," she mutters. "Because I don't."
"I know you don't, Donna," Katrina murmurs.
"When I suggested grief counseling, I told him I accepted him completely, and I meant it. But it hurts…" her voice cracks. "It tears me apart to see him suffer in silence. He's built these walls so high, and I don't know how to break through. So, what am I supposed to do? Should I just stand by and watch my husband drown in his grief? I can't do that, Katrina. I love him too much! But how can I help someone who keeps pushing me away?"
"Alright, listen up," Katrina says after taking a deep breath, gently grabbing Donna's hands and curling her fingers around her wrists. "First things first: self-care. Yoga, bubble bath, a walk in the park - whatever helps you clear your head." She offers a warm smile. "And then later, you march right up to that husband of yours and squeeze the living daylights out of him. Because trust me, after all that emotional heavy lifting, that man needs one like nobody's business."
Donna can't help but smile.
"Tell him how you feel and—"
"I already—"
"Do it again, and be brutally honest, like you've just been with me, because he needs to understand the impact this is having on you. You're the only person in this world who truly gets Harvey Specter to listen, but you're also in love with him, which means you might be softening the blow to protect him. Newsflash, darling, this is killing you, and he damn well needs to know!"
Donna takes a moment to let the words sink in before she answers, "Thanks, Katrina. I really needed that." Her voice, though stronger than before, still holds a tremor of vulnerability. "And thank you for letting me come here. I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Of course, Donna," Katrina smiles, giving the redhead's hand a gentle squeeze. "Always. Now, go take care of yourself. And text me if you need anything."
•••
When Donna steps out onto the streets, the temperature has slightly cooled off, and she wraps her coat tighter around herself. Hailing a cab, she sinks back against the seat, a single destination forming in her mind.
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the manicured lawns of the cemetery. As she stands by the simple granite headstone that marks Louis' final resting place, Donna's gaze sweeps over the well-tended flowerbeds, and she smiles appreciatively, knowing how much care Louis' mother put into them.
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, pulling the damp scent of approaching rain into her lungs as she focuses on the comforting sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves. Then she sinks down onto the grass with a deep sigh and makes herself comfortable.
Donna loses track of the minutes spent in a tense quiet.
When she finally speaks, her heart clenches in a fresh wave of pain. "I'm sorry, Louis. I feel like I'm failing you." She squeezes her eyes shut, the tears threatening to spill over once more. "You trusted us with the most precious thing on this earth, and we… She's still all alone in that cold hospital, and I'm so sorry, Louis. I'm just so sorry!"
The shaky breaths don't stop, each one a tiny sob trapped in her throat. Donna closes her eyes again, gathering her strength, and then continues, "I promise you, she will be happy and loved. I'm gonna give her the life she deserves. Like you'd do if you were here."
"Does that life still include me?"
The familiar voice slices through the quiet moment like shrapnel through rice paper walls, causing her to jerk visibly. Tilting her head, Donna's gaze lands on Harvey, his tall figure standing a few feet away.
"I knew I'd find you here." He clears his throat. "Can we talk?" When she doesn't respond, doesn't even look at him – her back, a wall against him – his frustration bubbles up. "Donna," he sighs, hating the awkwardness between them. "I know what you're thinking, and I'm so sorry. That came out wrong."
Donna immediately feels the tears burn behind her eyes, and she chances a look at him. "You are my life, Harvey," she murmurs. "You're my heart. My soul…" She pushes herself to her feet, refusing to appear even weaker while he's towering over her. "And that," she continues, managing to drive the emotion out, "is why you need to understand the weight of your words."
"I never meant to hurt you. I was…"
"Hypothetical adoption plans?" she throws the words back at him, fighting the rising anger. "I know we never actually talked about it, but I thought we were..." Her gaze narrows, a flicker of betrayal flashing in her eyes. "I mean, what did you think this was, Harvey? Some casual arrangement where adoption was an optional add-on?"
"Donna, that's not…" Harvey sees the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she ruthlessly blinks them back. "Look, you have every right to be angry. I was a jerk, and I hurt you. There's no excuse for that," he mumbles, his shoulders slumping slightly. "But I'm not stupid. Or blind. It doesn't take a conversation for us to figure out that this… arrangement…. is anything but casual. It was a leap of faith, maybe, but it's real."
Harvey drags a hand down his face, exhaustion etched into every line. He feels like the hole he's dug himself into has become a bottomless pit. Donna certainly isn't going to offer the ladder out. She's right, of course. He deserves to stew in his own misery, alone with the consequences of his actions. But he owes it to her, to Lucy, and to himself to try and climb out of this mess.
"Donna, listen to me. Thorne was pushing, and I knew I had to say something to get him off my back or I would've risked losing the case. I panicked. I blurted out some shit just to shut him up. It was a lie. A stupid, desperate lie that came out of my mouth before I could think straight," he pleads with her. "But you know I want this, too. I want us, all three of us, to be a family." He doesn't even try to keep the desperation out of his voice. "And I'm so sorry for making you doubt that."
"But how can I be sure, Harvey?" Her voice is tight, emotion finding its way back in. "How can I be sure you won't just…"
"Because I already scheduled a consultation with a family law attorney."
"You did what?"
"I went to see Grace Chen. She's an adoption specialist, and she agreed to discuss our situation with us, and the legal aspects from our role as Lucy's guardians."
"Harvey…" She finds it hard to speak. Her mouth is dry, her heart heavy, and her head hurts from too many thoughts.
"I know I messed up. But if you'll let me, I wanna show you that I'm serious about this," he replies. "This is a start. It's me putting my money where my mouth is. If you're willing to give me a chance to make it up to you, we can figure this out. Together."
He steps toward her then, his boots pressing into the ground, thick beneath his feet. He reaches for her face with his right hand. It's wet, as if he's been sweating, and cold, but Donna can only feel the heat as she leans her face into his soft palm and takes a deep breath.
"I can't wait to watch Lucy grow up," he murmurs, "and become just like you." His voice is merely a whisper now. "Smart, independent, resourceful, ambitious, strong, confident," he pauses briefly after each word, "warm, caring, compassionate…" He lets the silence hang for a beat before adding softly with a smile, "Beautiful."
Slowly, Donna closes the distance, bringing her lips to his. She sighs as she feels his lips respond to her, her eyes falling shut. He opens his mouth against hers, and she slides her tongue inside, enjoying the warmth of his caress.
Burying her hands in his hair, her fingertips curl into the thin strands at the nape of his neck. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat, and Harvey responds by pulling her body flush against his, taking control of the kiss.
He deepens it, and kisses her hungrily, his desire for her evident. She pulls away slightly and gasps his name, needing a moment to breathe. He smiles against her lips as he drags his mouth across hers, then nips at her lip, before pulling back, his gaze searching hers.
"Good God, I love you," he whispers, his voice quiet, reverent.
Her mouth is swollen, and her hair is a wild halo around her face, a tangled mess from his fingers running through it. Harvey leans in to kiss her once more, and as their lips meet, the sky suddenly breaks open.
The rain begins to fall fast and hard around them, but they pay it no mind. Harvey twists his fingers back into Donna's hair, the damp strands slick against his touch.
The water soaks their clothes, but they keep kissing, their hands exploring each other. Donna's hands smooth across his back, feeling the muscles ripple under her touch. His hands glide up her sides, and his right hand closes around her breast.
He feels her nipple through the wet fabric, and he runs his thumb over it. She gasps his name, her head lolling back as she presses her hips into him. He brings his mouth to her neck and kisses her there, his hand still playing with her breast through her shirt, teasing her nipple.
"H-Harvey," Donna moans softly. "We should…" He begins sucking lightly on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "Stop," she breathes, the word a helpless plea as she arches into his touch. It's a desperate attempt to regain control, to slow the wildfire he's igniting within her.
"Louis…" The name stops Harvey in his tracks, his face falling for a split second before he pulls back, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Maybe we shouldn't make out in front of him," Donna continues, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Go somewhere dry?"
A slow grin spreads across Harvey's face at first, then transforms into a genuine smile. "You wanna go see Lucy? Tell her the good news?"
Donna smiles back at him and reaches up, her fingers ghosting over the faint stubble on his jaw. Then she runs them through his hair, tugging lightly.
Sometimes, she marvels at the duality of the man before her. There's Harvey, the shark in the courtroom, the ruthless negotiator who can leave grown men whimpering.
Then there's Harvey here, his gaze tender as he looks at her, the one who leaves a dog-eared page in her favorite book with a quote underlined that reminds him of her, or scrawls sweet messages in the condensation on the bathroom mirror after a shower.
She loves him for all of it, for the fire and the tenderness, the ambition and the vulnerability. But the man standing before her now, the one with love written in his eyes, holds a special place in her heart.
"Thank you, Harvey," she whispers.
"I screwed up big time and you're thanking me?" he questions, his voice rough.
"'Cause you could've waited until I came to you," she explains softly, "but you didn't. You panicked, you lashed out, but you showed up, messy and imperfect, because you care. You're here… and you made sure I knew how much this means to you."
"Yeah," he hums, "because you and Lucy, Donna, you're my whole world. I could give up being a lawyer any day, but I could never give up what we have with our little girl."
"She's really gonna be ours," Donna says deeply moved, her voice thick with emotion, her eyes tearing up. She tilts her head slightly, staring at Louis and Sheila's headstone.
Smiling, Harvey presses a soft kiss to her temple, and, mirroring her actions, turns his gaze to the grave. "You'll be a great mom, Donna… He knew it, too."