A/N: Thanks a bunch for the reviews. Appreciated much.


Being a hot shot corporate lawyer for as long as he has, Harvey has enjoyed more than his fair share of rises in executive jetliners.

One got used to it after a while—car-to-plane service, no delays, no security screening, little more than a planeside glance from customs inspectors before being nodded toward a black vehicle once he arrived at the destination.

However, many times he flies in them, one thing never changes: he finds them incredibly sexy.

Rich Italian leather, carpet to sink up to one's knees in, marble and gold fittings in the lavatories, and well-stocked galleys and bars. Plus, they're peppy—far from lumbering jumbo jets. They soar into the sky like rocket ships as he listens to the ice cubes clink in his beveled crystal glass.

Given the choice, though, he'd opt to travel in one of his classic cars whenever possible. There is simply nothing quite like the sensation of cruising through the countryside, with the windows rolled down, while one of his favorite tunes is filling the air.

But on a day like today, where his world was completely turned upside down in the wink of an eye, he has never appreciated access to a private plane more.

Merely two hours after he made the call, they're already walking up the stairs of the jet sitting on the tarmac. They packed little, just enough to get them through the first days.

During their flight, Harvey buries himself in a stack of legal briefs, focusing on the intricacies of the cases, and, occasionally, poring over his emails. It's a familiar routine, a way to channel his restless energy and keep his mind occupied.

Donna finds solace in the small comforts of the plane—the soft hum of the engines, the gentle sway of turbulence, the panoramic views of the clouds drifting by outside the window.

Although she's tired, catching up on some sleep isn't an option. She flips through a magazine, her fingers tracing the glossy pages absentmindedly as she tries to quiet the anxious thoughts racing through her mind.

Harvey steals a glance at Donna. She meets his gaze with a small smile. He smiles back, then stores away his laptop, and opens his arms.

"Come here," he murmurs.

Wordlessly, Donna unbuckles her seatbelt and gets up, slipping into his lap. He rakes his arms around her and locks her tight in his embrace.

"They may not allow us to see Lucy if we can't verify our designation as guardians," he muses, but before she can even begin to panic, he continues, "We'll stop by the firm on our way to the hospital. There must be an affidavit in Louis' office, confirming our status."

"Are you sure?" Donna's lips quiver slightly at the thought of not being allowed to see their goddaughter, coldness creeping inside her.

"Positive," he nods affirmatively. "Louis told me he'd draw one up." He captures her hand, intertwining their fingers, but remains silent for a moment—a moment too long.

Donna notices the sudden change in his expression, the anxiety hiding deep behind his eyes. "It's okay to be scared," she whispers, running her thumb over his knuckles, "I am too."

"We said we weren't gonna do this," he sighs. "Have kids." Harvey lifts her chin gently with his fingers. "But she belongs with us, Donna." His voice cracks under the weight of his grief. "Us. Nobody else."

Donna looks up to his eyes tentatively, and what she sees in them makes her cheeks blush. There is such a gentleness in his eyes that she feels her heart skip a beat. His thumb is now touching her bottom lip, sending shivers down her spine.

"We'll fight for her if we have to," he pleads.

"We will, Harvey… I promise."

Donna puts her hand to his face and strokes with infinite tenderness the delicate lined skin around his hazel eyes. He has the most gorgeous eyes, the prettiest face.

She knows people question his character sometimes, not seeing the good in him, but Harvey Specter is the very epitome of a beautiful man, inside and out.

And no matter what they have been through, no matter how many times he hurt her in the past, she will never regret the moment she fell in love with him.

"She's gonna love you so much." The words fall as a whisper from her lips—she didn't even mean to say them out loud.

Harvey's smile cuts right into his cheeks as he looks at her. Then he pulls her into a hug, and Donna throws her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

Sighing softly, Harvey holds her close to his chest, rubbing her back in slow circles. He knows their lives will never be the same. But they love as hard as they fight, and they're ready to fight harder than they've ever done before.

•••

As they get off the private plane, the afternoon sun casts a golden hue over the tarmac, the crisp New York air carrying with it a sense of familiarity.

Ray stands beside the sleek black limousine with the tinted windows. His expression is stoic as always, his posture straight and professional. He nods respectfully as the couple approaches him.

"Mr. Specter, Mrs. Specter. Welcome back to New York." He pauses briefly, a glimmer of compassion passing his features. "I wish it were under different circumstances."

Harvey offers a brief nod in return. "Thank you, Ray."

"It's good to see you, Ray," Donna says, smiling warmly.

The car doors are already open, inviting them to slide into the plush leather seats of the Lexus. As they settle in, Harvey instinctively reaches for Donna's hand.

Amid the chaos engulfing his world, he feels a deep yearning for her touch, a primal need for the reassurance it brings. Her touch serves as a stabilizing force, grounding him while his mind whirls with turmoil.

After stowing Donna and Harvey's bags in the car's trunk, Ray climbs into the driver's seat and leans slightly sideways to look in the rearview mirror.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital, sir?"

"No, the office first," Harvey tells him. "Something important I have to pick up." As the words leave his mouth, he squeezes Donna's hand. He doesn't look at her, but he can feel her stiffen.

"As you wish, Mr. Specter," Ray replies.

With a soft click, he starts the engine, and the limousine pulls away from the tarmac, merging seamlessly into the flow of traffic.

Donna and Harvey watch the city skyline as it rises into view, growing into a towering wall of steel and glass. They don't speak. Holding hands is enough.

As she waits for Harvey to return, Donna taps her fingers nervously against the armrest, a knot of tension tightening in her stomach.

She glances at her phone for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the minutes to go by faster. The waiting feels interminable. What if he can't find the document?

With a frustrated sigh, Donna leans back against the seat, her gaze fixed on the entrance where Harvey disappeared moments ago.

"Please, please, please," she mutters to herself, repeatedly. She's never been the strongest believer in God, but she sure is praying now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she sees Harvey emerge from the building, a triumphant smile on his face as he strides towards the car. In his hand, he holds the affidavit, confirmation of their status as Lucy's guardians.

Relief floods Donna's chest as Harvey climbs into the car beside her, and she takes her sweaty hands off the armrest after she realizes she's been clutching it so hard they're cramped. She expels a shaky breath, a faint smile gracing her lips as she looks at him.

"We got it," he exclaims. "Sorry, it took me so long. Louis' office is a mess." Harvey emits a low chuckle, feels himself instantly tear up. He still can't grasp the fact that their friend is not with them anymore. "We got it, Donna," he repeats, softer this time.

They pull away from the curb and head to the hospital, and Donna rests her head on Harvey's shoulder.

She needs to be close to him, needs to be held, feel his warmth. She needs his soft voice in her ear, telling her it is going to be okay. Comforting lies, something to believe in while the entire world seems to be coming apart around them.

Sighing heavily, Harvey brushes back Donna's hair, his touch feather-light against her skin. She turns to him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and he sees the raw vulnerability etched in her features.

Without a word, he leans in and presses his lips to her temple, his arm snaking around her torso. He feels her tremble beneath his touch, her breath catching in her throat as she curls into his embrace.

Inhaling deeply, he takes in the scent of her—a heady mixture of her favorite perfume, the faint aroma of her shampoo, and the unmistakable essence of Donna herself. Soon, her smell is everywhere, drenching him.

She feels so damn good in his arms, soft, curved, warm and alive. Alive! Unlike Louis, unlike his mother, his father, she is still here, and God, he needs it to stay that way, because the cost of losing her is eternal misery—unbearable.

Holding her close like that, that sense of intimacy, still makes his heart race. He can't bear to be away from her. Not today. Not ever. Her touch anchors him to everything that matters, to the feeling they are—even in this tragedy—exactly where they should be.

When they reach their destination, it hits Harvey again how much he hates hospitals.

He hates the way they feel like mausoleums of hope, where despair lurks in every corridor and fear clings to the air like a suffocating fog. He hates the coldness, the clinical smell of antiseptic that stings his nostrils and makes his skin crawl. He even hates the dumb paint on the walls, the cheerful colors meant to brighten the mood but only serving to highlight the bleakness of the surroundings.

But more than that, Harvey hates what they symbolize—vulnerability, weakness, mortality. Hospitals are a stark reminder of life's fragility, of the inevitable march towards death he is on. And for a man who prides himself on his strength and resilience, the thought of stepping foot into such a place fills him with a sense of dread.

As he sits in the car, his chest constricts with the familiar onset of panic, and he clenches his hands into fists at his sides. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Harvey forces himself to open the door and step out onto the sidewalk.

His heart pounds in his ears, each beat echoing like a drum of impending doom. His palms grow clammy, his vision blurring at the edges as a wave of dizziness threatens to overwhelm him. The cold wind whips around him, sending a chill down his spine.

Not now, dammit, he thinks. What he says is Donna's name, and it comes out as a croak, some sort of desperate plea. He tries to swallow. Tries to clear his throat. He has little strength to do it. His lips feel rubbery and useless.

He feels a surge of nausea rising in his throat, bile burning the back of his mouth as he fights to keep it at bay. The world is still spinning around him, colors blending into a dizzying blur.

"Donna," he chokes out. The panic makes his eyes water. "I can't… I can't do this."

Donna rushes to his side and places her hand gently on his arm. "Harvey," she whispers, her voice hoarse and crackly. "You can do this. We have to do this for Lucy."

"I know, but… I can't breathe." He drags in a breath with difficulty, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together. His lungs struggle as though they haven't operated in a long while. "I feel like I'm suffocating," he pants.

Donna lets go of his arm and moves in front of him. "Hey, look at me," she murmurs, cupping his cheeks and jaw, her thumbs stroking the dampness from Harvey's face. "Hold your breath and swallow." She takes his hands in hers, rubs her thumbs over his palms to calm him. "That's good," she says softly with a smile. "Now exhale and then take a slow, deep breath and do it all over again. Just breathe. In… and out."

"I don't know if I can. I feel like I'm going to pass out."

"No, you're not," Donna says firmly, her grip around his hands tightening. "You're strong, Harvey. You've faced worse than this. We'll take it one step at a time, okay? Just look at me. You're not alone. Focus on me."

Opening his eyes, Harvey clutches her hands and stares at her, exercising what she told him to do until the sudden halts in his breathing are over and his breath is back in sync with his lungs, the panic receding. Then a smile gets hold of his lips.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he whispers.

Donna smiles back at him. "The feeling is mutual," she teases, her voice just as soft. "Now, let's go see our little girl."

Her choice of words makes the heartfelt smile creasing Harvey's lips grow even bigger. A dusky pink stain covers Donna's face as her lashes flutter against her cheeks, and he realizes she didn't mean to say it, not like that—the words just slipped out.

But he can feel in his heart that she is right. It is as much a curse as it is a blessing: Lucy is theirs now. And it opens the door to parenthood, but also to a life that will always remind them of what they lost.

In the end, though, Harvey thinks—no, wishes the love will outweigh the pain. For him, for Donna, but, most importantly, for Lucy. She deserves every chance to know a real future, one without the hardships he has endured. If there is anything he wants for their little girl, that is it.

•••

They cross the threshold into the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway and head straight to the front desk. Harvey's posture straightens instinctively, as if bracing himself for a fight, the way he does in a court of law when he gives his closing argument.

He clears his throat and gives his voice a try, surprised how steady it sounds despite the anxiety he still feels. "Paulsen-Specter, we're here to see Lily—"

"Lucy," Donna interjects, "Lucy Litt. Daughter of Louis Litt and Sheila Sazs. The little girl that was in a car accident?"

Harvey's breath catches in his throat at her correction, a pang of guilt piercing through him at the slip-up. Lily—his mother's name—a painful reminder of the past, dredging up memories he long tried to bury.

Donna's hand finds his. With a soft squeeze, she offers him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Harvey," she murmurs, running her thumb over the back of his hand.

His gaze meets hers, gratitude flooding his heart for the strength she provides him in his darkest moments. "We're here to see Lucy Litt," he repeats as he turns his attention back to the receptionist, his voice firmer this time.

The woman behind the counter, middle-aged with kind eyes and a sympathetic smile, nods understandingly, her gaze flickering briefly to Donna before returning to Harvey. "Are you family?"

"We're Lucy's godparents."

"Her legal guardians," Donna adds.

"And do you have—"

"Right here," Harvey cuts the receptionist off as he pulls out the affidavit and slams it on the desk in front of him with a loud thump.

"Of course," the woman says, a little taken aback by the force of Harvey's gesture. "I'll let the doctor know you're here to see Lucy. Please have a seat in the waiting area, and someone will be with you shortly."

Harvey exhales slowly, relief washing over him as the weight of the moment lifts slightly. He gives the receptionist a grateful nod before turning to follow Donna towards the waiting area.

As he sits down, he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Was I too harsh? I mean, it's not the lady's fault that—"

Donna tenderly squeezes his arm, waits for him to turn his head to look at her, and then smiles at him. "You're under a lot of stress, honey. She'll understand."

It takes about half an hour before a woman approaches them. Her demeanor exudes both warmth and confidence, her white lab coat billowing behind her like a cape of authority. Her dark, espresso-colored hair is pulled back into a neat bun, her stethoscope draped around her neck like a reassuring talisman.

"Mr. and Mrs. Paulsen-Specter, I'm Dr. Rivera," she introduces herself. "Please follow me."

Harvey and Donna nod silently, rising from their seats to follow Lucy's doctor down the corridor. Inside the family conference room, the woman with the light pink scrubs motions for them to sit, but they both politely decline.

"I'm afraid Lucy sustained significant injuries in the accident," Dr. Rivera begins, her voice soft but steady. She meets their worried gazes with empathy, knowing the weight of her words will only add to their anguish.

"As a result of the impact, she experienced a severe concussion, multiple fractures, and internal bleeding," Dr. Rivera continues. "Thankfully, no organs were damaged, and we managed to stabilize her for now."

Harvey can hear Donna's sharply indrawn breath. "What are her chances, Doc?" For a moment his head spins, and he closes his eyes tight, balling his hand into a fist. "Will she be okay?" he then asks, his glare boring into her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Paulsen-Specter, I want to be honest with you. At this stage, we're closely monitoring her vital signs and providing the necessary medical care. But given Lucy's young age and the seriousness of her injuries, her chances of a full recovery are uncertain at this time."

She becomes silent for a while to let the words sink in.

"My team and I are doing everything we can, but her prognosis will depend on how her body responds to treatment and the extent of any lasting damage."

A choked sob from Donna makes Harvey realize she is crying, but he can't think what to say to comfort her, so he just grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly. Her fear is palpable. He can also feel it in her hot, sweaty palm.

"Is there anything we can do to improve her chances? Anything at all?" The words come out sterner than he meant. He is agitated. The walls feel as though they are about to close in around him.

He gives himself permission to breathe fully and deeply, releasing trapped emotions rather than holding them in through shallow breathing. Lowering his gaze, he discretely wipes at the moisture that is gleaming in his eyes.

"Right now, the most important thing you can do for Lucy is to be there for her, provide love and support, and follow the treatment plan we've outlined. She'll need round-the-clock care and monitoring, and it's crucial that she receives the best possible medical attention."

Harvey takes another deep breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he says, "We will take care of whatever she needs. Money isn't an issue."

"Lucy is currently in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She will likely remain there for the foreseeable future as we continue to monitor her condition. We'll keep you updated on her progress and any changes in her treatment plan. It's important to take things one day at a time and remain hopeful, but also realistic about the challenges ahead."

"Can we see her?" Donna holds back a sob that threatens to choke her as the words come out. She can't find the strength to say any more.

"Only immediate family members are allowed to visit at this time, but since you provided documentation of guardianship, my staff will grant you access to the NICU."

"We're the only family she has left," Harvey growls, the mere thought of someone trying to prevent them from seeing Lucy making him furious.

Donna lightly strokes her finger over his knuckles in a small attempt to soothe his emotional pain. At last, he meets her gaze, and his expression is so full of anguish and despair that he looks frightfully haunted, eyes glazed with tears.

"You can go see her briefly," the doctor's voice breaks the momentary silence, "but please prepare yourselves. She's hooked up to a lot of machines, and she may not be conscious."

"Thank you, Dr. Rivera," Harvey replies, his look carrying an apology as well.

He didn't mean to snap at her. He didn't mean to be rude to the receptionist. He just wants him and Donna to be finally reunited with the one person in this world who will help them heal.