A/N: Your feedback means the world x


Around the room, the loudest sounds are the beeping of monitors and gentle whooshes of the ventilators, tasked with the heavy responsibility of keeping the hospital's perhaps most vulnerable patients alive.

Harvey's hand tightens around Donna's as their eyes search anxiously for Lucy. When they finally spot her, their breath catches in their throats. So little of the baby can be seen, between the tubes and wrappings.

Donna lets go of Harvey's hand and reaches out tentatively, hesitant to disturb the intricate network of wires surrounding the child. Her eyes meet those of the nurse, who gives her an encouraging smile.

"If you don't feel safe touching her, I'm sure she'd love to hear your voice. Even if she's not conscious, she'll know you're here. That will make her feel less alone."

With each attempt to speak, Donna's voice falters, her lips parting soundlessly before closing again in frustration. It takes four tries for her to manage a simple "hello" to the six-month old baby.

There is no reaction, no flicker of recognition, only the quiet presence of a child fighting to hold onto life. The doctor warned her that Lucy's condition might affect her ability to interact, but knowing it intellectually does little to ease the ache in Donna's heart.

Harvey sighs and squeezes his wife's shoulder reassuringly. He knows how much this moment means to her, how desperately she wants to connect with Lucy. Even the nurse seems to sense Donna's despair, because empathy flickers over her features as she looks at them.

Harvey shifts his hand from Donna's shoulder to Lucy's tiny form to let her miniscule fingertips graze his smallest finger. Tears well in his eyes—there is something indescribably poignant about the warmth of her hand in the otherwise cold and sterile room.

"She looks so small, Donna. It's like she's barely even there," he mutters, watching as the baby before him labors to draw breath. "I wish there was more we could do for her. I hate feeling so helpless."

His voice breaks off in a slight tremor, and as he curls his finger around Lucy's hand, everything suddenly becomes real. As though the canvas on which all those moving, slightly blurry images are drawn is torn to pieces, revealing the clear, gruesome reality it concealed. Her touch stirs something deep within him, a primal instinct to protect and nurture.

If Lucy will get through this—she has to—she will grow and have her own personality and thoughts and dreams, and he's the one who needs to look out for her. He and Donna. And the gravity of it all forces the tears to stream down Harvey's cheeks.

"I just… I can't bear the thought of losing her, Harvey. She's… she's everything," Donna murmurs as if she looked inside his head and read his thoughts. Her voice quivers, but she steadies it into calmness. It's the tears she can't control.

"We'll fight for her," Harvey hears her say, and he isn't sure if she's talking to him or herself—either is fine with him. "Every step of the way," Donna continues as she slips an arm around his waist, snuggling close, her head pressed against Harvey's chest. "And she'll know she's loved, no matter what."

She promised him that on the plane, and now she vows it to Lucy. When they were named as guardians, they may not have expected this role, but in this moment, they are fully commited to being the pillars of strength and stability that the little girl so desperately needs.

Harvey puts his arm around Donna and pulls her in tight against him, kissing the top of her head. He buries his face in her hair and closes his eyes, her hair so soft against his cheek it makes him sigh with the sheer pleasure of it.

After a moment's pause, he opens them again and looks down at the crib, smiling. "You hear that, kiddo? We're not going anywhere. We're going to get you through this."

Donna lifts her head from his chest, her gaze lingering on the baby. "We'll be here, Lucy. Always," she whispers.

Silence envelops them as they sink deeply into their thoughts, Harvey's hand rubbing her back in a soothing gesture. Then he breaks it and asks, "You wanna stay for a while?"

He feels her nod, and he instinctively scans the room for any seating options. The nurse points them to a two-seater settee and a large leather beanbag. Small chairs are stacked on top of each other in the corner.

None of those options look all too comfortable, but knowing the hospital's primary focus is on ensuring the space is optimized for medical equipment and staff access, Harvey can live with whatever comfort they offer.

"I'll move the crib," the nurse says, smiling gently, "So you can keep watching your baby."

Harvey feels his cheeks flush. "Oh, she's not ours," he chuckles. "She's…"

"Our little miracle," Donna coos.

She sniffs back tears then walks over to the seating area and sinks deep into the sofa. Harvey collapses next to her, and takes a moment to just stare at her.

"You know, you look really pretty in those scrubs," he smirks. "The color brings out your eyes."

She snort-chuckles and then breaks into a big, toothy grin—Harvey loves the fact his words found their purpose. It has been way too long since he saw her smile like that.

"What kind of compliment is that, babe?" Donna tilts her head, eyeing him with a smirk.

"The kind of compliment where you say: Thank you, my dear husband. You don't look too bad yourself," he quips, imitating her voice as he does his best impression of her.

"Well, you are a beautiful man. That's why I married you."

His smirk grows wider at her teasing. "Is that all?"

Donna's eyes widen in faux innocence. "I'm sorry, did I miss the part where you had anything else to offer besides your good looks?"

She bites her lip, trying not to laugh; he, with a bit of a smile, motions to her to behave, lowering his head so that they will not look at each other and burst out laughing.

It feels like such a relief to banter, to laugh and smile. To momentarily dispel the heaviness weighing on their souls and pretend for a second that everything is okay.

Maybe they should laugh out loud, Harvey muses, even in here. Maybe this place needs a bit of silliness, Donna thinks to herself. How else are they going to cope?

"When we promised Louis we'd always look out for her, I never imagined it would be like this," she says as she stares at Lucy.

"Mm," Harvey hums. "It's good to see her fighting." He puffs out a sigh. "She's a fighter."

"Just like her daddy," Donna adds with a faint smile.

"Just like her daddy," he repeats, smiling too.

•••

A quiet snore catches Harvey's attention as it interrupts the soft breathing of the woman beside him, curled in the corner of the couch and dozing against the cushions. He sighs, leaning back into his seat and watching absently as Donna's chest rises and falls, glancing at the faint frown that tugs at her lips, even in sleep.

It must've been an hour since they came here, maybe two. He lost all sense of time. One thing is for sure, though: it scares him how quickly he got used to the steady beep of the monitors echoing in his ears, a relentless reminder of Lucy's fragile condition.

He reaches out to gently stroke Donna's cheek, his voice barely a whisper as he murmurs her name. Watching her stir awake, Harvey smiles. "I think we should leave."

"What about Lucy?"

"She'll be here when we come back tomorrow," he says softly. "They're gonna throw us out soon anyway."

Donna knows he's right—they can't stay at the hospital all night—but leaving Lucy still feels wrong. "We'll come back first thing in the morning," she insists.

"Of course," he replies.

Wordlessly, they exit the hospital, get into their car, and drive off, each caught up in their own whirlwind of emotions. It takes about half an hour for them to reach the Airbnb they have rented for a month, hoping it will give them enough time to sort things out.

They walk up a few flights of stairs until they reach a wrought-iron door. Harvey's fingers glide over the keypad, unlocking it with a soft beep. He swings it open, and then turns to Donna, gesturing for her to enter first.

"After you, Mrs. Specter," he says with a warm smile.

The place has all the trimmings of an old-school loft—high ceilings, exposed brick, ductwork, hardwood floors, and enormous windows. An expansive area devoid of walls, allowing for seamless flow between different living zones.

It also has plenty of old-school quirk, with cast-off furniture that seems to have found new life in their space. The perfect accouterments to their living quarters, and a departure from the polished perfection they may be accustomed to.

From bold, abstract paintings to vintage photographs and posters, the curated mix of artwork adorning the walls adds color and texture to the industrial backdrop. The quirky sculptures scattered throughout the loft range from whimsical to thought-provoking.

Nestled in a corner is a well-stocked bar with a selection of fine wines and spirits. Across from the bar, a cozy reading nook is tucked away beneath a curving staircase. The staircase ascends to a small workspace, with a sleek desk set against floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

The sleeping area is open to the rest of the loft and features a lavish king-sized bed, while the spacious en-suite bathroom offers a deep soaking tub and rainfall shower. Although compact, the contemporary kitchen is well-equipped to meet their needs.

Harvey closes the door behind Donna, slips the coat from her shoulders and draws her head to his chest. And then he just holds her for long minutes. Warm, undemanding hands massing her neck, easing away the tension in her body, soft lips grazing her temple.

In the quiet, her face rises and his kiss slides across her forehead to her sealed eyes and down her nose. Her head leans back and her lips meet his. They trace the shape of each other before they fall deep into the pattern of their kiss. A kiss that is slow and tender; a delicate touch, almost as if their mouths are fragile.

Donna's hands close around Harvey's neck with infinite tenderness as she melts into the hard contours of his body with a soft moan. It takes forever until their lips part, and then Donna smiles lovingly at him as she combs his hair with her fingers.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, still holding her tight.

Her hands slide away and drop to his chest, resting there. "God, I didn't even think of eating anything. I just thought of Lucy." She pauses with a saddened gaze. "Would you order something while I change and freshen up?"

He smiles, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She turns her cheek into his hand as it lingers beside her face. "Craving anything in particular?"

"A few more of these," Donna murmurs against his lips as she pecks them playfully several times in succession, before she answers, "Italian."

They talk about anything else but Lucy over dinner. It's a desperate attempt to stop worrying for a moment, and they both know they're just pretending it's working. Because the truth is, it isn't. Not once do they stop thinking of her, or Louis and Sheila.

When they are comfortably settled on the big couch, entangled in each other, their eyes meet and they silently agree to try something else. Something they haven't tried before. Something that doesn't involve talking.

•••

Harvey gently sucks her nipple into his mouth and lashes it with his tongue before grazing it with his teeth as he lets it slip from his mouth. His hand moves between her legs, where he begins teasing her with his fingers, while his tongue continues its lazy, loving circles.

Eyes closed, Donna moans lowly as she tries to block out her thoughts and focus on the sensation of Harvey's caress. She tries, with all her might, until she feels his fingers kneading her sex through the shield of thin cotton, and her frustration becomes too much to ignore.

"W–Wait…"

Sighing, she pulls herself up a little, her hands falling into Harvey's hair. She tightens her grip on the silky strands, not hard enough to hurt, but enough so that he knows she's serious. Then she gently pulls his face away from her breasts. He obeys her silent command.

"It's not working," Donna mutters under her breath, and he looks at her with confusion in his eyes.

"What do you mean it's not—"

"It's not… I'm not…" She gives him an apologetic look, and his mouth drops open in an oh. "I'm sorry, Harvey."

"Donna," he sighs out her name. "It's okay." His fingers tangle in her hair, and he twirls a strand around his fingertip. "If you're not in the mood for sex, we can—"

"It's not that I'm not in the mood," she tries to explain what she doesn't even fully understand. She can't remember this ever happening before. "I want to. It's been days since we…" She heaves a deep sigh and stares at him in silence for a moment. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I'm just tired."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with you," he says in the softest voice that can be, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've got a lot on your mind." He brushes his thumb across her cheek. "I get it."

"So, you're not mad?"

"Of course not," he reassures her. "It was worth a try, though."

When Harvey gets up from the couch, his crotch is level with her gaze, the erection straining his pants appallingly evident.

"You're sure you're, um… okay?" she asks with a bit of smirk.

He laughs. "It'll wear off."

"I'm really sorry," she chuckles softly.

"I know," he smirks. Then he pulls out his phone and glances at the lock screen. "I guess if we leave now, we can still make it."

"Make what, Harvey?" Donna asks, confused.

"You need a distraction from the whole Lucy thing, and since sex isn't working, I'm taking you to a play," he announces. "It'll help take my mind off this shit, too."

She doesn't make a sound, frozen in disbelief.

"We need to hurry," he says with a slight grin. "Put your shirt on and let's go, come on."

This time Donna cannot hold back the gasp that flies from her throat. "I don't… understand…"

He cackles. "I knew you needed a distraction, so I looked at what's playing on Broadway while you were asleep, and got us tickets to every show this week. Had to pull a few strings. Nothing illegal, I swear."

"Every… show?" She emphasizes each word, her voice vibrating with emotion. "You mean every single one?"

"I didn't know what you'd be into, so I had to improvise," he tells her, grinning like a Cheshire cat now.

Finally, Donna gets to her feet—slowly, obviously still in shock. "Harvey…" She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if there's anything she could say that would even remotely describe how much this means to her.

"You can thank me later," he says. "Now, I just wanna spend a few hours with my wife, not worrying about a goddamn thing."

Donna can't help but notice the pride in his tone as he calls her his wife. She watches the affectionate expression on his face as he draws closer and wraps his arm around her waist. Warmth spreading through her heart, she gives him a smile that mirrors his own.

"Let's honor Louis tonight," Harvey whispers as he rests his forehead against hers. "With something he loved." He swallows the lump that formed in his throat. "You know he'd want us to."

"I love you," Donna chokes out, cupping his face as she kisses him. "So much."

"Mm, I love you, too," he murmurs against her lips, "Except more."