A/N: This turned out so long gosh... Thank you for the love on this story so far!


The day of the funeral is unsympathetically sunny and warm. Harvey steps out first, adjusting his sunglasses, the lenses failing to dim the harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the polished chrome of their car.

Donna follows, her hair curled slightly as it falls over her shoulders. She wears a sophisticated dark green dress with a modest neckline and knee-length hem, with matching shoes and earrings.

She opens the back door and unlatches the baby carrier that is locked into the seat belt and doubles as a car seat. Lucy gurgles happily, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a dangling strap.

"Do you want me to take her?" Harvey asks.

"No, I'll change her. Then I'll come find you," Donna replies, smiling, the corners of her mouth not quite reaching her eyes.

With the baby carrier in one hand and the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, she heads towards the building that houses the funeral home's amenities. Harvey watches her silently for a moment.

It's strange how Lucy's presence affects them both, providing a necessary distraction from their grief but also making the loss feel even more profound.

"Hey, Donna," he hears himself call out. He catches her eye and a tender smile graces his lips. "You look beautiful!"

She smiles back—this time, the corners of her mouth do reach her eyes. "Thanks, my love," she murmurs, the endearment slipping out rather unconsciously.

Harvey's smile widens a fraction, a flicker of something akin to pride dancing in his eyes, as if he knows exactly how he affects her. "Just stating the obvious," he retorts, his voice a low rumble.

She laughs softly, the sound lighter than it has been in days. Then, with one last lingering look at Harvey, she turns to leave.

The gates to the cemetery are adorned with religious symbols intricately woven together, drawing from both Catholic and Jewish traditions. Harvey makes his way to the spacious outdoor pavilion, where the service will be held shortly.

Floral arrangements of white and blue are placed all over the grass and around the catafalque. Rows of chairs are neatly arranged facing a small stage, where a podium stands draped with a cloth bearing symbols from both faiths.

He smiles–Louis and Sheila would've loved this.

Most people are dressed in a mix of colors reflecting Louis' vibrant personality, while some clearly prefer a more traditional outfit. Like Louis' mother, who wears a simple black dress, and is the first one to spot him.

Her bangles jingle as she flings out her arms to envelop him in a bear hug. The smell of patchouli wafts up from her graying long curly hair and assaults his nostrils.

Harvey pats her back. "I'm sorry for your loss, Naomi."

She sniffles, and he reaches for one of the tissues he has tucked into his pocket. He's learned from his last funerals, and came prepared. She takes it gratefully.

"Thank you, Harvey. He always looked up to you."

Still resting against his chest, she blows her nose with a loud honk. He can feel her tears seeping through the front of his dress shirt, but he doesn't draw away.

"Let me look at you." She straightens and holds him at arm's length. To the casual observer, she appears to be studying his face, but he knows she is checking his aura. "Married life suits you," she concludes.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile. He only met Louis' mother once or twice, but that doesn't stop her from treating him like she's known him for years. Harvey figures it must be in her nature.

Or maybe it's because she knows how much her son loved and respected him and simply appreciates the fact that Louis found a friendship like theirs. One that surely took its time developing.

"I think it's safe to say that your son played at least a small part in me landing the girl," he smirks.

"I know how much he loved you when he chose you and Donna to take care of Lucy. He spoke so highly of you both." She offers a faint smile. "If you ever need anything, Harvey, truly anything—a listening ear, a helping hand—please don't hesitate. You're practically family now."

"Thanks, Naomi. That means more than you know." He pauses thoughtfully. "Honestly, we're still figuring things out with Lucy. Having her with us all the time will be a big change, that's for sure. But Donna, she's amazing in a crisis, and…" A rueful chuckle escapes him. "I'm a lucky man to have her by my side."

"Oh, Harvey." The tears spill over Naomi's red-rimmed eyes again. "You don't know how quickly it can all be gone." She draws her hand, still clutching the damp tissue, to her chest in a dramatic gesture. "It can all disappear in a heartbeat." She thumps her chest. "In a heartbeat, Harvey."

Before he can reply, Naomi spots another relative over his shoulder and heads off to repeat her performance with a fresh audience. Harvey chuckles to himself as he continues down the aisle toward some familiar faces.

"Jessica," he greets his old friend and mentor.

He wants to tell her he's happy to see her, but what brings them all here is rather sad than lovely, and so he offers her a simple smile. One that conveys what he can't say.

"Harvey," she smiles back.

When she hugs him, Harvey realizes just how much he actually missed her. He sighs against her hair and closes his eyes. As if she can sense his need, Jessica brings him closer into her embrace, holding him with strength and tenderness.

"It's good to see you," she mutters under her breath. "But I wish we didn't have to meet like this."

Lingering in their embrace for a beat, Harvey finally pulls away. He sucks in a lungful of air, needing a moment to collect himself as he processes his feelings. But then, his eyes meet Mike's and a goofy grin splits his face wide open.

One of Mike's hands rests on the handle of the stroller containing his wide-eyed, pacifier-plugged infant. He pushes the stroller back and forth like a lazy man with a vacuum cleaner.

As Harvey peeks inside, the baby smiles right at him. "What's up, little man?" He gently strokes the boy's head, then looks at Mike. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"Julian was a little fuzzy earlier, so Rachel took him for a little walk," he replies.

"Where's your wife?" Jessica asks.

"My wife?" Harvey can't help smiling like a goddamn fool at the sound of those words. "My wife's with Lucy."

"I heard you and Donna are taking care of Louis' little girl," Jessica says, deeply touched by the gesture. "That's amazing, Harvey. How does it feel?"

A heat creeps up Harvey's neck. Fatherhood has never been part of the plan, and with Lucy, the weight of responsibility feels heavy. But being responsible for her well-being ignites something paternal in him, something fiercely protective. It's as though Lucy's already a part of him.

"We were supposed to be in Seattle, starting fresh, just us, our new job, and now we have to… we decided to raise a child neither of us has ever planned for," he says, fumbling with his suit jacket. "I am terrified out of my mind to do something wrong. To hurt her," he continues, as if someone turned on a spill-your-guts faucet. "But it's our life now. We chose this. And for Louis and Sheila, we'll find our way. Back to New York, back to some normalcy. Even if that normalcy involves a screaming baby and enough spit-up to drown a bulldog."

"You're not coming back?"

"No, Mike, we…" He sighs. "We wanna stay here so Lucy can have a relationship with her family. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Mike says with a faint smile. "I'm sure we can figure something out so you can still work for us."

"You'd love that, huh?" Harvey smirks. "To keep bossing me around?"

Their brotherly banter makes Jessica laugh. "He got a taste of it and now he's addicted," she quips.

"What can I say? It's fun," Mike smirks. "I guess we could open up a new branch on the East Coast. I might even let you run it."

"Oh, ha-ha," Harvey scoffs, laughing.

As he lets his gaze wander, he sees Esther standing alone near the podium. Hesitant to approach her, he excuses himself and slowly makes his way over.

She notices him even before he reaches her, flashing him a smile that Harvey thinks seems genuine. Despite how things ended between them, she doesn't appear to hold any grudges against him, and he certainly feels relieved.

"Esther," he nods in greeting. "I'm really sorry for your loss." He doesn't know whether to embrace her in a hug—probably not—or to shake her hand, so all he offers her is a gentle smile. "Your brother was a beautiful soul."

"Thanks, Harvey," she replies, her expression soft and warm—it confuses him even more. "You look good."

He shifts uneasily on his feet, his face growing thoughtful. "Listen, about—"

"How's life as Mr. Paulsen treating you?" she cuts him off.

Harvey almost chokes on his spit, noticing the bitterness in Esther's tone of voice. Fine, maybe he was wrong about her not holding any grudges after all.

He can't tell if she tried to hide it and failed, or if she's well aware of how she sounds, and that makes him feel even more uncomfortable. He clears his throat and swallows, willing his composure to stay in place.

"Great," he exclaims. Absentmindedly, he fisted his hand in his pockets, and now runs his thumb over the smooth edge of his wedding band. "Still takes a bit of getting used to, but I finally have everything I ever wanted."

His eyes mean to say, 'What the hell are we even doing here?' but Esther just smiles at him and says, "I'm happy for you, Harvey."

A part of him wants to call her out on the awkwardness of the situation, but he's too proud to accept defeat in whatever game she's playing with him, so instead, he holds up the conversation, trying to be the bigger person.

"Thank you," he forces a smile. "I hope things work out for you, too… Eventually."

"It's been so long since we last saw each other. I'm in a much better place now."

"Happy to hear that," he mumbles.

He's tempted to ask Esther about Lucy. About how she feels knowing Louis made him and Donna not only her niece's godparents but also her legal guardians—how much it stings that Lucy will grow up as a Specter—but he doesn't want to agitate her, doesn't want to be mean.

As if she can hear his thoughts, she says, "You know, Louis always said family comes first," and Harvey almost trips in his attempt to keep a straight face. "Seeing you and Donna take care of Lucy warms my heart," she continues, "but I hope you're prepared for what's coming."

Harvey's brow furrows in confusion, and he feels every muscle in his body tense. "What do you mean?"

Esther smiles. "She's just a baby. She's gonna need a loving and stable home."

"That we can provide," he says, his voice thick with irritation, each syllable uttered distinctly.

"I'm sure you can. I'm just reminding you that what you can't do is run away from this when things get serious."

"You mean like I ran away from you?" Harvey scoffs. "C'mon, Esther, that's bullshit! You know we've never—"

"This is neither the place nor the time to argue."

"Damn right it's not," he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, his brown eyes rolling hard. "Look, I don't want there to be any bad blood between us, so please, let's just be civil about this. We all want what's best for Lucy, and I promise you, Donna and I will—"

"I know," Esther cuts him short. "I'm sorry, Harvey. With my brother gone, I just… I'm really sorry."

Stifling a whimper, she hurries past him. Harvey lets out a ragged breath, willing himself not to dissect their conversation. But it replays on a loop, making his head swim and his temples throb like a drum solo.

Christ, this is why his conquests often ended in radio silence. Wherever he went, he left a trail of scorched earth in his romantic wake. Casual flings rarely blossomed into friendships, and even past relationships with deeper connections, like the one with Scottie, remain fraught with tension.

Thankfully, none of it really matters anymore, because he's with her now—Donna. The only woman he's ever truly loved. And she appears so beautiful, standing there in the distance, juggling Lucy on her hip and beaming with pride as a small crowd gathers around her to meet Louis and Sheila's baby.

Harvey marvels at the little wonder as she yawns and stretches in Donna's arms. She looks adorable in her cream-colored dress with the black cardigan and black booties. A white headband circles her tiny head, the large silk bow on top matching her rosy cheeks, with her dark tufts of hair poking out.

As he takes in the sight, he knows without question that he is blessed beyond measure. It has been a long and rocky path with many unplanned pit stops and detours, but it has led him here and he couldn't be more grateful.

Donna catches him staring at her, and smirks. Dressed in a black Tom Ford suit, Harvey's shirt and pocket square crisp white, and sporting shiny Ferragamo oxford cap-toe shoes, she notices just how delicious he looks.

The fine fabric molds his body like a second skin and accentuates his butt beautifully—a detail she finds herself oddly fixated on.

She swallows a surprised laugh, internally chastising herself. This is a funeral, not a runway show, and certainly not the time to be appreciating her husband's perfectly sculpted assets.

"Hey," Harvey approaches her, "let's go find a seat before all the good ones are taken."

A slow grin spreads across her face at his comment. "Lead the way, handsome," she says as she adjusts the baby in her arm.

They sit down in the second row, waiting for the service to begin. Soon enough, a Catholic priest and a Jewish rabbi stand side-by-side, offering prayers and readings alternately in Latin and Hebrew, accompanied by soft instrumental music playing in the background.

After Sheila's sister delivered her eulogy, Esther takes her place at the podium, wanting to say a few words about her deceased brother. Her usually vibrant features are etched with raw grief as she recounts moments of joy, love, and laughter shared with him.

Each word she utters is a brushstroke, painting a colorful portrait of the man they all knew and loved. She speaks of their childhood pranks, their late-night philosophical debates fueled by cheap takeout, and the way he's always known exactly how to make her laugh, even on her darkest days.

Harvey watches Donna's reaction from the corner of his eye, his own throat tight with emotion. As Esther's voice cracks on a particularly poignant memory, a single tear escapes Donna's lashes, tracing a shimmering path down her cheek, and she sniffs.

He hands her a tissue, and she rewards him with a watery smile, the corners of her lips trembling. Instinctively, Harvey puts his arm around her and she leans into his touch, a small, grateful sigh escaping her lips, as her head finds its resting place on his shoulder.

"I miss him," she croaks. Each word seems a monumental effort, a sob threatening to choke off her voice, the sort of annoying, hiccuping sob she can't control, even if she tries.

Harvey's heart clenches, a physical manifestation of the grief twisting his insides. There is something so devastating about seeing the woman who's always been the picture of composure crumble under the weight of their shared loss.

Squeezing her shoulder, he pulls her closer and murmurs, "Me too," his voice rough.

A lump the size of a golf ball forms in his throat, making it hard to swallow. Tears prick his own eyes, threatening to spill over. He blinks them back fiercely, refusing to let them fall. But it is a losing battle. His vision blurs slightly as a few tears escape the confines of his sunglasses.

Hearing him sniff loudly as grief, raw and potent, washes over him, Donna tilts her head to the side and rests her forehead against Harvey's shoulder. Then her lips brush across his cheek in a gesture so fleeting it could be a butterfly flitting past.

"I'm here," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

He closes his eyes for a moment, drawing strength from her presence, the lump in his throat easing ever so slightly. When he opens them again, the ghost of a smile graces his lips and he kisses the top of her head, sighing against her hair.

Donna keeps rocking Lucy in her lap, gently rubbing the infant's back. The warmth radiating from the little bundle in her arms seeps through the thin fabric of her dress, a tangible reminder of a life still here, even amidst the overwhelming sense of loss.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement catches Donna's eye, a shaft of sunlight landing on Harvey's hand. It glints off the gold band there, a stark contrast to the black fabric of his suit. His wedding ring fits him so perfectly, it seems like an extension of himself.

How often she caught him staring at that very ring in the early days after they slipped it on, a silent awe settling on his features as if he couldn't quite believe it was real. And how endearing it was to see his words falter, momentarily forgotten in the face of the sheer existence of that band.

The memory sends a flutter through her stomach, a warmth that clashes with the chill of grief. She steals a glance at Harvey, his jaw clenched tight, his gaze fixed on the podium. But as if sensing her attention, or perhaps simply mirroring her own subconscious thought, he turns to her.

His lips curve into a knowing smirk. His hand, warm and strong, finds hers, their fingers intertwining so their palms press tight together. Donna's gaze instantly drops to the diamond ring nestled against her skin. It's only been a few months, but it feels so natural already, almost a part of her hand.

After the burial, they gather for a reception under a nearby tent, where tables are set with platters of food representing both Catholic and Jewish culinary traditions. There's wine and challah bread alongside bowls of pasta and plates of cheese and charcuterie.

As the others gather around the table, Donna tugs at Harvey's sleeve to get his attention. "Hey, I think Lucy might be hungry. I'm gonna go feed her. I'll be right back."

"Donna, please, let me take care of her this time," he insists. "Just because you're the woman doesn't mean you have to do it all."

"I really appreciate you saying that," she says softly, "but I want to."

"Okay, fine, then do it here, so I can—"

As he stares intently at her, he realizes she needs a moment away from prying eyes—maybe to cry, maybe just to take a deep breath—and she's using the baby as an excuse. So, he lets it rest, not arguing anymore.

"I'll save you a seat at the table," he whispers, giving her a peck of a kiss.

She smiles against his lips, murmuring her thanks, and Harvey knows it's more a thank you for understanding. Thank you for not pressuring me to stay and letting me work through this my own way. As much as it pains him to know she's hurting, it comforts him she's not alone.

Brushing his fingers across the wisps of fuzzy brown hair on the baby's head, Harvey places a soft kiss against Lucy's temple. She will help them both heal. He's sure of it. They need her just as much as she needs them.

Looking into her big, curious eyes, he's hit with the realization that they aren't just a couple with a baby anymore. They have already become a family. And they would figure it out, one giggle, one diaper change at a time.

•••

Donna settles into a bench under the shade of a big tree. A pair of dark eyes peers up at her from a round pink face. One little fist keeps opening and closing as though exercising her tiny fingers.

"Alright, Lucy-bug, do you want some milk?"

When she digs into the diaper bag and pulls out the bottle she prepared earlier, Lucy squeals, reaching out in a desperate grab for food. Donna laughs softly, and cradles the baby close, positioning the bottle nipple against Lucy's soft lips. Lucy latches on eagerly, her eyes fluttering closed in contentment.

Donna watches her goddaughter with teary eyes, remembering how they first met. She might've not been aware of it at the time, but she probably fell in love with her right then and there. How could she not? Lucy is beautiful.

"You're okay, sweetheart?" she whispers, running a single finger over Lucy's cheek.

The baby gurgles happily, her eyes opening, and then her tiny hand reaches out to grasp Donna's finger. The simple gesture almost prompts a sob from Donna's throat.

A rustle of fabric, announcing someone's arrival, makes her look up. Her eyes meet Rachel, who's pushing the double-stroller with two slumbering and blanket sleeper-clad infants inside.

"Oh Donna," she breathes, surprise tinged with a touch of awe, "you look…" Rachel's sentence trails off, her eyes lingering on Donna cradling the baby.

Donna forces a smile. "Like a fish out of water holding a ticking time bomb?"

"Not at all." Rachel chuckles softly. "It's actually very sweet seeing you in mom mode," she says, leaning closer. "You look like a natural."

Donna sighs. 'Mom mode' isn't something she's ever envisioned for herself. But as she looks down at the baby nestled in the crook of her arm, Lucy's chubby cheeks sucking contentedly on a bottle, her heart swells with love. The idea of anyone else raising Lucy feels unimaginable.

"Natural disaster seems more like it," Donna mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel reaches out a finger, feathering it across Lucy's cheek. "That bad, huh?"

"I feel so overwhelmed, Rach. Terrified. Like I'm winging it from second to second." Donna lets out a shaky breath. "It breaks my heart when she cries. Even more when I can't get her to stop. And she's not even living with us yet. I'm gonna be a freaking mess!"

Rachel squeezes her shoulder. "That's pretty much parenthood in a nutshell. You'll figure it out. You always do."

"I really don't know how you manage two of these."

"Thankfully, my baby boys have decided to go easy on me," Rachel says with a smirk.

"I bet the big one's still a handful."

Rachel snorts. "See? You're cracking jokes. You're perfectly fine, honey."

It's the first time Donna tears her gaze away from Lucy and looks at Rachel. Her eyes are glassy. Her lips part and she swallows, the movement visible in her throat.

Donna smiles, her voice quiet and trembling as she speaks. "I'm thinking of adopting her."

Rachel gasps. "You want to make it official?" she murmurs, sitting down next to her friend.

Donna nods.

"What does Harvey think?"

"It's only been a few weeks. We haven't exactly talked about it, but it's… I think he wants it, too. I know he does." She pauses, looking Rachel up and down, frowning. "He didn't send you, did he?"

"To make sure you're okay?" Rachel grins. "No, he didn't. I just wanted to see how you're doing for myself."

"Do you think I should tell him?"

"About the adoption?"

"About how freaked out I am by this…" The sigh she lets out is much louder than the others before that. "By having to take care of this tiny human."

"Don't you wanna tell him?" Rachel presses her, pretty sure she already knows the answer.

"Yes," Donna groans in frustration.

"Start there, then tell him that no matter how terrified you are, you want that piece of paper that lets the entire world know she's yours."

"You don't think it's too soon?"

"Donna," Rachel sighs, "do you love Lucy?"

"More than anything," she whispers.

"And can you imagine a life without her?"

She shakes her head.

"Then the answer is no." Rachel smiles, snuggling closer, her arm coming around Donna's shoulder. "I'd say take a little more time to navigate your grief, adjust to being Lucy's guardians, and contemplate your future as a family. Most importantly, talk to Harvey." She pauses. "And when you're all settled, get it done."

Donna meets Rachel's gaze. Words seem superfluous, a pale imitation of the emotions swirling within her. Instead, she lets her eyes speak the truth. Tears break free at last, cascading down her face. She quickly catches them with her palm before they drop onto Lucy's downy head.

"She belongs with you. That's why Louis made you and Harvey her guardians," Rachel says. "And you, Donna Paulsen, are gonna be a wonderful mother." Glancing down, she smiles widely. "Look at her. She absolutely adores you."

Staring at the baby cradled in her arms, Donna can see a familiar warmth bloom on Lucy's face. It starts with a crinkle around her eyes, then a slow, gummy grin stretches across her cheeks.

The tiny gap where her front teeth would eventually erupt makes the smile even more adorable, and a single, glistening drool droplet hangs precariously from her bottom lip, adding to the comical picture.

Lucy's whole body seems to vibrate with delight as she kicks her legs. Her chubby arms flail excitedly, grabbing at the air before landing with a happy smack on Donna's chest, a melodic giggle bubbling up from Lucy's throat.

A soft laugh escapes Donna's lips, genuine and unguarded, the sight melting her heart like butter on toast. This little miracle, this bundle of boundless energy and infectious smiles, is hers to protect, to nurture, to love.

"You know, I always thought that if Harvey were ever to have kids, he'd be a girl dad," she says quietly, almost as if her thoughts developed a voice of their own.

Rachel chuckles. "It suits him."

A comfortable silence settles between them for a moment, then Rachel speaks again.

"Donna, I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you regret not having your own?" She pauses. "I mean, do you ever look at Lucy and wonder how it would feel to have, like, a mini you running around?"

Donna lets out a lighthearted giggle. "This one already has my husband wrapped around her little finger," she says, amused. "Imagine if she had strawberry blonde hair and freckles. Harvey would go insane."

Her gaze flicks upwards, a smile clinging to her lips.

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder what might have been if Harvey and I had gotten together sooner. If we would've… after The Other Time…" She chuckles, albeit nervously, and closes her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. "But, you know, if I'd really wanted a baby, I wouldn't have needed a man to make that happen for me," she continues, her smile softening, "And now I have this beautiful, loving man in my life, and in a tragic yet miraculous series of events, this perfect little girl became a huge part of it..." Her eyes shine brightly with affection. "I regret nothing, Rachel. I'm truly happy."

"And obviously very much in love," Rachel teases. "I still haven't gotten used to hearing you call Harvey that."

"What?"

"My husband."

"I said that?" Donna says with a chuckle, feeling the faint flush of her cheeks heat her skin.

Rachel nods, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh, well…" She smirks. "After more than a decade of us living in denial, you couldn't blame me if I had him wear a sign around his neck saying he's mine."

"I'm pretty sure Harvey wouldn't mind being branded Mr. Paulsen so openly," Rachel quips.

Donna responds with a soft laugh. "Speaking of my husband, he must be wondering where I am, so I'm gonna head back. You wanna join me?"

"I'd like to feed my boys first."

"Sure," Donna smiles, leaning in to peck Rachel's cheek before she rises to leave. "Thank you."

Rachel reaches out to squeeze Donna's hand, smiling back at her. "If you need anything at all…"

"You're just a phone call away."

"And I won't hesitate to board a flight if this little one—" she turns her attention to Lucy, gently pinching the fat rolls of one of her legs, "—becomes too much."

Donna grins. "See you later."

As she walks off, she thinks about how difficult these last few days have been. While the funeral is finally giving her the closure she needs, it also marks a fundamental shift in the very fabric of her life.

The enormity of it all triggers a kaleidoscope of emotions that mirror the hormonal storms of PMS—chaotic mood swings that have her spiral out of control—but they feel infinitely more profound.

•••

Reaching Harvey and Mike's table, Donna laughs as she falls on an empty seat. "God, I think I need more alcohol. Funerals are so depressing," she says, removing her shoes and dropping her legs onto Harvey's lap, ignoring or overlooking his mild confusion.

Harvey looks down at Donna's feet, somewhat bashful but trying to conceal it. He's still not used to this kind of PDA, or even to the reality of them being a couple. And he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to it. All of it still feels like a dream sometimes.

Donna wiggles her toes, and her perfectly painted nails shine under the lights of the pavilion. He tries to act casual, but it is hard to maintain it when a part of him wonders if anyone would notice if he slid his hand up her beautifully shaped leg and under her dress.

He grips his glass harder and tamps down the arousal surging through him. When he glances over at Mike, he can see his friend's lips curved upward in a wide grin, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes a little.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Mike grins.

Donna's eyes flick between the two men and she smirks as she realizes what's going on. "You're allowed to touch me, Harvey," she says, her voice almost a purr, "I promise, no one here will find that inappropriate."

"Even though it's a funeral," Mike adds, amused.

"Are you two done making fun of me?" Harvey snarls, looking thoroughly offended. But Donna can see the amusement behind his eyes and how he's fighting a smile. "Where's Lucy?"

Donna's smirk grows at how quickly he changes the subject. "She's being paraded around the mourners by her grandmother like a first place trophy," she quips as she nudges his arm, resting in his lap, with her leg.

Harvey finally moves his hand—an instinct, not a conscious decision. He caresses her foot, and she gasps as he runs fingers around the toes, squeezing them with his palm. Then he slides his hand up her ankle, running her calf through the cage of his fingers, up and down.

"So, tell me more about you and Lucy," Mike says, a bit teasingly. "Are you guys ready to go all the way? Changing diapers, sleepless nights, the fussing?"

Harvey gives the smallest of nods.

"Is that a yes? 'Cause what you just did seems more like you're saying you're not sure."

Donna stares at Harvey as he fingers his silverware, slides the metal of the fork between his fingers, twirls the utensil, watches as the light glints off at odd angles.

"Harvey…" She puts her hand on his, stilling the movement, waits for him to first look at their hands, then up to her eyes. "What's going on?"

"It's just something Esther said earlier," he mumbles. His gaze is slightly dark and brooding. "How she said it."

Donna frowns. "What do you mean?"

"She came up to me and told me how Louis always said family comes first, and that she hopes I'm prepared for what's coming," Harvey explains.

"So?" Mike cuts in.

Harvey raises the glass of water to his mouth and empties it in one gulp. "I don't know," he groans. "Like I said, she had a weird way of saying it. Something felt off. And the look she gave me…"

"Harvey, are you sure those weren't just some grief-induced musings?" Donna suggests.

"Maybe," he says, shrugging his shoulders. He glares down at the hand that still rests on Donna's leg, massages her flesh gently, and sighs. "Probably."

"Esther just lost her brother," Mike says, concerned, "so, respectfully, I don't think you should worry too much about anything that woman says today."

"Besides, she's your ex," Donna remarks. "Of course she'd be a little hostile towards you."

A mischievous glint in her eyes sets Harvey off with a light laugh. "Just because I had sex with her, Donna, doesn't mean she's…" Pausing, he rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. "Ugh, let's not get into this now."

"Yeah, let's not," Donna smirks, bending forward.

Understanding the signal, Harvey leans in, closing the distance between them. They share a quick but intimate kiss, and when they break apart, they're both smiling widely, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"I'm gonna miss sharing an office with you," Mike mentions, a smile spreading across his face when Donna and Harvey simultaneously turn their heads to look at him.

"Aww, Mike," Donna coos, reaching over the table to pat his arm. "I'm gonna miss you, too."

"Have you thought about where you're gonna live yet?"

"We're going apartment hunting tomorrow," Harvey announces, his hand trailing absentmindedly up Donna's leg. When it grazes the hem of her dress, momentarily slipping under, her breath hitches, and she meets his gaze. He grins, mouthing a quick apology.

"We found a few condos we'd—" Donna shifts in her seat when Harvey skims his fingers lazily over her thigh, "—like to check out," then presses her thigh against his hand for the briefest moment before discreetly retracting.

Unaware of what's going on under the table, Mike smirks. "Looking for something with a nursery, huh?"

Harvey feels a sudden rush of warmth, staining his cheeks a rosy pink, but he tries to ignore it, to play it cool. "In case you haven't noticed, my days as a bachelor are over."

His dry humor hits the spot, making Mike laugh. "All jokes aside, I'm thrilled for you two."

"Thank you, Mike," Donna smiles.

They stay for another hour, enjoying each other's company, the conversation weaving between lighthearted anecdotes about Louis' antics and quiet reflections on their friendship's emotional rollercoaster.

Back at their place, after dropping Lucy off at the hospital, they move on autopilot. The routine of getting ready for bed is a familiar comfort after the emotionally exhausting day they had, yet neither of them actually fall asleep.

Instead, they spent several minutes entangled in each other's arms, listening to the soft sounds of their breathing. Harvey's face is pressed into Donna's hair as he strokes her back with one hand and her arm with the other.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmurs against her temple.

"Do I have to talk?" Donna asks quietly.

A delighted snort escapes him at her witty comeback. "No, but I'd be able to hear your thoughts even from a mile away." He kisses her head again, taking a deep breath, reveling in her scent. "I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay," she utters as she toys with the flurry of hair around his navel. "Just thinking about Lucy."

"I know," he breathes. "Me too."

"I can't say goodbye to her anymore, Harvey. Every time we leave that hospital, my heart breaks a little more."

"Just a few more days, alright?" he says softly. "Until we find a place to live. Then we can get settled in and—"

His words are drowned out by Donna's deep sigh.

"What?"

She rises from the mattress, leaning over him, and clears her throat of the emotion that is choking her, but it still comes through in her voice, "I'm terrified."

Harvey reaches one hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and then lingers his fingers against her cheek. "Terrified of what?" he murmurs.

Donna raises her hand to cover his and turns her lips into his palm softly. As he holds her gaze, his smile so gentle and tentative, like a Christmas snowfall in the dark village, she feels she would weep.

"Not being enough," she chokes out, a question buried beneath the raw emotion.

Harvey sees her hazel eyes fill with tears. The smile on his face softens even further, a hint of sadness replacing the warmth. He lets out a shaky breath, his thumb gently tracing circles on her cheek.

"Not being enough for who?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. "Lucy?" A pang of hurt shoots through him. The very idea of her doubting her worth is unbearable.

Donna takes a long, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly before she nods slowly. "I... I don't know if I can be a good mom." She chokes back a sob, the words catching in her throat. "It's not like I had a great example for one."

"Hey, don't…"

"My mother never provided a stable home environment. She always risked the family's emotional wellbeing to comply with my father's irresponsible financial ways."

"But you're nothing like her, Donna, and you know it," Harvey argues determinedly. He sits up slightly, his arm snaking around her body to lie on her back. "And I may not be a saint, but I will never put you in the position your father put your mother in. I promise you that."

"I know, Harvey. Deep down, I know that. I'm just… freaking out," she replies with a throaty, awkward sounding chuckle. "Being at the funeral today made it so… so real."

Donna's hand rests at the side of his face, her fingers brushing against his cheek before tracing a light path up to the mole at Harvey's temple. It is a fleeting touch, but the way she lingers there, a single fingertip circling the dark spot, sends a jolt of electricity through him.

She locks eyes with him, the corners of her mouth quirked up in a barely-there smile. "How can you be so calm?"

The vulnerability in that small gesture strikes Harvey like a physical blow. He finds himself utterly captivated by it. The strength and uncertainty coexisting in Donna's gaze, the way her smile, though faint, holds a universe of emotions—all of it makes a tide of affection wash over him.

"I'm not," Harvey says softly as his fingers skim over her back. "Or have you forgotten about the panic attack I had when we first arrived at the hospital?"

She breathes a laugh.

"But Donna, you're the one who told me I've faced worse than this," he continues, "That we're in this together, so I'm trying to have faith in us."

"I hope you know I do, too," Donna murmurs as she cups his cheek, her thumb touching the corner of his mouth. "No matter how overwhelmed or terrified I feel, I'll always have faith in us, Harvey," she croaks.

"I know," he hums, "and I'm glad you told me."

With the gentlest of smiles, he reaches up and cups her cheek in the same tender fashion she did with his earlier. He looks at her lips, then looks back into her eyes, and a deep sigh shifts his broad shoulders.

"I don't ever want you to think you're not enough..." His voice is as soft as his caress as he sweeps his lips gently over her, tasting her upper lip with a whisper of his tongue. "'Cause you're everything."

He seals his lips over hers, intense but not brutal. A persistent, firm pressure, reassuring as much as claiming, reminding her how much she is loved.