Donna was settled on the couch with Rachel, a glass of red wine in hand. It was one of their many girls' nights, and thank God, they had managed to avoid Louis. He and Donna had had a rather heated conversation about the huge secret he had kept from her. And even though she knew things would eventually smooth over between them and they'd go back to the way they were, she needed a little distance from Louis for now.

Her legs were crossed in a lotus position, but her face was tense, and her eyes stared off into the distance. Rachel, sitting beside her, decided to start a conversation to try and unravel the mystery surrounding her friend.

"So? Do you want to tell me what's bothering you, or should I guess?"

Donna let out a long sigh, looking hesitant. "Okay… I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before."

Rachel didn't respond but adjusted her posture slightly, sitting a little more attentively.

The redhead played with the hem of her dress for a moment, as if delaying the inevitable, before finally blurting out, "I slept with Harvey… Several times."

The young woman blinked in shock. "Oh my God." A pause. "How big was he?"

Donna widened her eyes, a mixture of amusement and outrage. "Rachel, seriously?!"

She shrugged with an innocent smile. "Sorry, sorry… Was he good?"

The actress rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. Rachel had a gift for making her laugh, even when she was feeling tense. "Yes," she sighed, thinking back to the nights they had shared. "Of course he was."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, her smile turning slightly teasing. "Of course… So, what's the problem?"

Donna then recounted the entire story. She told her about the tension that had always existed between them, the undeniable chemistry, but also the rules they had set to keep things simple… and how it had all blown up a few days ago. She described the moment when Harvey had misinterpreted her question, the hurtful things he had said, and her own anger that had stopped her from listening to his repeated apologies.

When she finished, Rachel looked at her in silence for a moment. "And how many times did he apologize, exactly?"

Donna shrugged nonchalantly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt. "Three times… maybe four."

The brunette tilted her head to the side, an indulgent smile on her lips. "And you ignored him every time?"

Donna shifted uncomfortably on the couch, unsure whether her reaction had been entirely justified. "He was awful, Rachel. He basically called me a—well, you know what he implied. He hurt me."

Her friend nodded slowly. "I get it. You had every right to be furious. But Donna… Did you think why he reacted the way he did?"

She stared at her, uncertain. "Because he's a possessive asshole?"

Rachel burst out laughing but shook her head. "No, it means he cares about you. If he reacted that strongly, it's because he was scared. Scared that you'd want someone else and that he wouldn't be enough."

Donna seemed caught off guard by this analysis. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Rachel took the opportunity to continue.

"I'm not saying his reaction was right, far from it. He definitely doesn't deserve your forgiveness at the snap of a finger, but maybe he deserves a chance to explain himself."

Donna looked down at her wine glass, swirling it between her fingers. She hated to admit it, but Rachel had a point. Harvey wasn't perfect, and she knew he had his own baggage. Maybe it was time to set aside her pride and have an honest conversation with him.

"Maybe…" she said thoughtfully before looking up at her friend. "I thought it'd never fit, by the way. That's how big he is."

Rachel, who had just taken a sip of her wine, choked violently, her eyes widening. "Donna!" she coughed.

"Hey! You asked!"

Harvey adjusted the sleeves of his shirt after slipping on his jacket, ready to start his workday and have a serious conversation with Donna, whether she wanted to or not. He couldn't stand the cold silence between them anymore, a silence that weighed on him far more than he was willing to admit. And even though he knew she had every reason to be angry with him, he hoped she'd give him the chance to finally explain himself. He had to try.

But just as he reached for the door handle, he came face-to-face with the redhead. Donna was standing on the threshold, one hand raised mid-motion, clearly about to knock, and with a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something he almost never saw. She looked… uncomfortable. A little nervous. It wasn't like her.

"Donna?" he said, surprise mingled with a glimmer of hope in his voice.

She parted her lips, but no words came immediately. Her eyes darted briefly past him, scanning his space. Finally, he stepped aside to invite her in, and she crossed the threshold as he gently shut the door.

"You've done well with this place," she said finally, her tone light, almost as though she was trying to break the ice. She walked forward slowly, her heels clicking against the floor, stopping near the first shelf.

Harvey stayed back, watching her move through his personal space, like she was walking not just on his floor, but in his heart. Her fingers brushed over a row of vinyl records meticulously aligned on a shelf behind the leather couch. She pulled one out, turning it over in her hands, reading the tracklist on the back cover. "Charles Bradley?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you're not such a lost cause after all, Gunny."

He didn't reply but allowed himself a faint smile at the sound of the nickname. It was the first sign that she was open to conversation. More open than she had been in days, at least.

Donna put the record back in its place and continued her exploration. This time, her fingers paused on the windowsill where three basketballs were carefully displayed. She picked one up delicately, her eyes lingering on a black signature etched into the leather.

"Michael Jordan, huh?" she said, clearly impressed. "So, you're one of those rare guys who still idolizes their childhood heroes?"

Harvey shrugged, giving her an amused look. "It's not idolizing, it's respect. Jordan is the best."

Donna smirked and twirled the ball lightly in her hands. "Sure, and Michael is a lovely man," she said nonchalantly, not looking up.

Harvey furrowed his brow, intrigued. "Oh, so he's Michael to you?"

She raised her eyes to meet his, a mischievous glint shining in them. "I'm Donna to him, he's Michael to me. What can I say?"

She put the ball back in its place with a delicate touch, almost reverently, as though she were handling something sacred. Her fingers lingered on the surface for a moment, idly tracing the letters of the signature. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and amusement, as though lost in a fleeting memory.

"I'm surprised, though," she said, finally stepping closer to him. "I thought I'd see a bunch of medals as decorations."

Harvey leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms with a smirk. "What makes you think I'm the kind of guy who has medals?"

"Oh, come on. You're seriously going to tell me you're not the type to lie down on barbed wire so people can walk over you?"

He laughed, shaking his head lightly. "No," he said, with that signature calm and unwavering confidence of his. "I'm the one who cut the barbed wire."

She narrowed her eyes at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips but said nothing in return. She just looked at him deeply, for what felt like an eternity. Harvey almost felt uncomfortable under her gaze. It wasn't just him she was looking at; it was like she was seeing right through him. As if she could see his soul, past all the walls he had so carefully built, past all his clever comebacks. She wasn't fooled by his bravado, not one bit.

.

Her eyes drifted from his to his crossed arms, and something caught her attention. Around his wrist, he was still wearing Max's bracelet. It made her pause for a split second, as if she wasn't sure whether to smile or be surprised. But the emotion rising in her throat was undeniable.

"You're still wearing it," she murmured, her tone now devoid of humor.

Harvey followed her gaze and looked down at the bracelet. He gave a slight shrug, but there was something in the tension of his features that revealed it meant more to him than he wanted to admit. "Of course, I'm wearing it. It's a gift from Max."

Donna felt an unexpected warmth spread through her. The fact that Harvey cherished this gift as much as Max was making her feel things she never thought she'd feel again about a man.

"It's a child's bracelet, Harvey. Don't you think it clashes with your whole look?" she asked, though her voice carried a gentleness, a quiet hope that he'd insist on keeping it.

"Max gave me this because she thinks I'm Batman. I'm not about to prove her wrong."

An emotional smile tugged at Donna's lips. And in that moment, as she watched him wearing something that, in a way, was at odds with the Harvey Specter she knew, she was reminded why she cared so deeply for this man. Beneath the confidence, beneath the polished exterior, there was a heart bigger than he'd ever admit, even to himself.

.
Harvey let out a quiet sigh, finally uncrossing his arms, remembering what he had intended to do the moment he opened the door. He swallowed nervously, as if searching for the right words.

"Donna…" he began, his voice almost hesitant. "I know I've already said I'm sorry. And I know I'm not always… not often, the best at explaining myself or apologizing properly. But I need you to know that I mean it. I really mean it."

Donna stood still, her eyes locked on his. He pressed on, speaking before she had the chance to respond:

"What I said that day… I didn't mean to hurt you or to insinuate anything. If I did, it was only because I let myself get carried away. By the moment, by… everything it brought up. I'm not proud of how I reacted. I don't handle emotions very well." His jaw tightened slightly. Not handling emotions well was an understatement.

Donna lowered her gaze briefly, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve as if searching for a response. But Harvey didn't let her take that chance, stepping closer and closing the space between them.

"I care about you," he said, with a raw sincerity that was almost foreign coming from him. "And I'm sorry. Again. And I'll keep apologizing if I have to, as many times as it takes. Because I miss what we had. I miss us. I miss you. And I'm not talking about sex."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and for a moment, she was speechless, letting their gazes hold. Then, softly, she murmured, "I miss us, too."

The simple admission seemed to ease the tension in the air. Harvey nodded, reassured that the feeling wasn't one-sided.

"Getting back to your main idea, we could go out tonight. Grab something to eat. Or just a drink. And it's not a date."

Donna smirked. "Not even close."

Harvey tilted his head slightly, a subtle but genuine smile forming on his lips. If Donna didn't know him better, she might have sworn his eyes were sparkling. "Good. Be ready at 9. I know a place where we'll have some peace."

"Good."

The bar Harvey had chosen exuded a warm and discreet ambiance. The exposed brick walls, softly lit by dim lighting, seemed to absorb the surrounding hum, creating an intimate atmosphere. Small, raw wooden tables, adorned with flickering candles, were spaced far enough apart to allow for a sense of privacy. It was a place Donna had never visited before, this wasn't her usual type of scene. But the simplicity of the bar felt refreshing. She was used to far fancier places that, truthfully, didn't suit her as much as she liked to think.

She noticed a few curious glances directed their way, but no one dared approach, and it didn't take her long to understand why. Harvey, while guiding her to their table with his hand in hers, had taken care to scan the room with a calculating gaze. It wasn't quite suspicion but more of an unspoken assertion of boundaries. The few daring souls who might have been tempted to risk disturbing their moment were met with dark looks, deterring any interruption. Donna couldn't help but smile faintly. If that worked to keep overly enthusiastic admirers away, she might consider dining out with Harvey more often.

As they made their way toward a table tucked at the back for more privacy, Donna couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the man walking beside her. He'd chosen dark jeans that, rather indecently, emphasized the contours of his legs and his ass. But the best -or worst, depending on how you looked at it-, was his navy-blue shirt. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and a hint of his dog tags beneath. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, showcasing the firm lines of his muscles, and Donna felt a rush of heat creep up her cheeks.

For fuck's sake, Donna, focus.

As for her, she'd opted for a long, flowing summer dress that grazed just above her ankles. The deep green hue perfectly complemented her fiery red hair. Over it, she had thrown on a casual denim jacket, striking a balance between elegance and simplicity.

When they finally sat down, Harvey strategically positioning himself against the wall with a clear view of the room, while Donna slid into the seat across from him, a waitress promptly arrived at their table. He quickly ordered a whiskey for himself, a glass of wine for her, and a selection of tapas to share.

"So, this is the kind of place you hang out in?"

"Absolutely."

"And what, you feel invincible here or something?"

Harvey shook his head. "If someone is determined to commit murder, nothing will stop them," he said, taking a sip of his scotch, after the waitress arrived with their order.

Donna raised her eyebrows, "Great, so what do I need you for ?" she asked sarcastically.

Harvey met her gaze, deadly serious. "He can kill me instead of you."

"And you're willing to die for me?"

"It's my job." He seemed far too calm and determined.

"And you would do it?"

He nodded. "Why?" asked Donna, struggling to understand the logic of such a profession.

Harvey moved closer to her as if he was about to reveal the biggest secret in the universe. "I don't know how to act."

At least that made her laugh and eased the tension. "You're an idiot."

.

.

After a few jokes—and even more drinks—Donna felt the tension between them completely disappear and seized the moment to bring up a more serious topic.

"So, being a Marine… was it a vocation?" she asked, curious to learn more about the enigma that was Harvey Specter.

He shook his head, a smile brushing his lips. "No."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "No? You're telling me Captain America isn't your hero?"

A laugh escaped Harvey. "Tss, Rocky takes Steve Rogers every fucking day of the week. And you know why ?"

The redhead thought for a moment before venturing a reply: "Because Rogers is just a fucking soldier, not a Marine."

Harvey smiled proudly at her answer. "See? You get me."

"So, what was the plan then?"

He set his glass down on the table, taking a moment to answer. He seemed to retreat into his memories. "I wanted to be a lawyer."

Donna's eyebrows shot up, intrigued. "You? A lawyer?" She tilted her head, a skeptical smile playing on her lips. "How serious were you about that?"

"I went to college, took the LSAT, and got accepted into law school," he said with pride.

"Which school?"

"Harvard," he replied simply, as though it were no big deal while Donna nearly choked on her wine.

"Ha… Harvard?" she repeated, half incredulous.

Harvey nodded, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes.

She leaned forward, studying him and trying to piece together the invisible puzzle. "But… what happened?" she asked, gesturing slightly with her free hand. "Your path was set, and given your repartee, you'd have been the best closer in the city."

Harvey sketched a sad, almost wistful smile. "I know…"

"So, what?" she pressed gently, unable to stop herself.

"I… I had a younger brother. Marcus," he began, clenching his jaw nervously. "He got sick a few weeks before I started at Harvard."

Donna froze at the past tense, her full attention on him now.

"My mom wasn't in the picture," he continued, his voice carrying a hint of anger. "And back then, my dad didn't have enough money. So, uh…" He paused, his gaze briefly drifting to the table before meeting hers again. "I used the money I had saved for school to pay for his treatment instead."

She felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew Harvey was so much more than he showed the world, but hearing this story hit her in a way she hadn't anticipated. She searched for something to say, but words eluded her.

He had lowered his eyes, his fingers playing with the corner of the napkin on the table, something he rarely did, as though trying to channel his emotions. She could see that talking about his brother wasn't easy for him. It echoed everything she knew about Harvey: a man who bore his scars in silence, refusing to let the world know.

"I spent it all on the treatments," he continued, his voice a little hoarse, as if every word was being wrenched from him. He twisted his glass in his hands, staring at a point somewhere beyond the table. "Not that it mattered in the end, because the cancer won." He gave a bitter smile, the kind that barely masked the pain he still carried to this day. "After he died, I was lost. Law school wasn't an option anymore, I was broke. I had just lost my brother." He took a shaky breath, shaking his head slightly. "Grieving was… tough. Really tough."

Donna didn't move, frozen by the weight of his words. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but something in his posture told her he wasn't ready for that. So she stayed, simply being there, understanding all too well the ache of losing someone you love.

He lifted his eyes to hers, and she noticed they shimmered slightly before he quickly looked away. "I wanted to do something that mattered. So, I dropped everything. Joined the Corps. If it wasn't going to be Harvard, then it had to be the best branch of the military."

"So you're an elitist?" She teased.

"The few, the proud, baby."

He let out a humorless laugh saying the Marine tagline, but Donna noticed the tension in his jaw, the way he clenched his teeth to keep more from slipping out. It was like looking at a reflection of herself, on those rare occasions she spoke about Peter. It was unsettling to see that pain mirrored in someone else.

"I'm sorry about your brother," she said softly, knowing all too well that there was nothing else she could say.

He nodded, not answering right away, his gaze lost somewhere in a painful past. "It's been more than 15 years…" he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. "You just… learn to live with it, don't you?"

Donna agreed, unable to find the right words. She decided to shift the conversation, feeling that this topic hit too close to her own buried wounds."That's quite a career shift… Do you ever regret it?"

Harvey crossed his arms, his expression unreadable, then shook his head. "Not really." He paused, as if debating whether to say more, before adding, "But sometimes I wonder what my life would've been like if I'd gone to law school." He let out a short, humorless laugh, barely audible. "A lot of things would be different."

"What did you do in the military?"

Harvey didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes shifted away and his jaw clenched. Donna immediately sensed she had touched a sensitive subject. She waited patiently, not pressing, letting the silence ask the question for her. But he still didn't answer.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, a playful smile softening her features. "Or maybe it's all classified."

Harvey couldn't help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood. "Not all of it," he admitted. "I was in the infantry. Most of the time, it was civilian extractions."

The words were simple, but the story they carried was anything but light. She knew there were images, memories, and perhaps regrets he'd never share. "You must have saved a lot of people," she said softly, almost under her breath.

Harvey didn't respond. His gaze dropped to his glass, and he took a sip of whiskey, a gesture that said more than any words could.

"Got it, too far." She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, her gaze becoming more playful. "You know, I almost got hired at the DA's office."

.
Harvey looked up at her, surprised by the sudden change of subject but silently grateful for it.

He narrowed his eyes, intrigued by what she had just said. "When?"

"Oh, it was years ago. Back when I hadn't found my stride yet and needed to pay the bills. Imagine if you had gotten your law degree? I might've been the one working for you."

They both laughed at the idea. But Donna, true to form, added with a sly smile, "But let's be real, people would've still known I was the one in charge."

A smirk tugged at Harvey's lips, but he didn't reply. Instead, he studied her for a moment, his gaze softening, as though he were trying to decipher something unspoken. Suddenly, he asked, "Why don't you want to fall in love anymore?"

Caught off guard, Donna blinked before lifting her chin, challenging him with a half-smile. "You got something to tell me, Gunny?"

Harvey gave her a steady, pointed look, his seriousness cutting through the playful tone she tried to set. The levity evaporated. She let out a small sigh, as if she'd hoped to avoid this question, but eventually, she answered in a quiet murmur, "I told you, no one stays forever." Her voice faltered as her gaze darkened. "And grieving for the person you love… feels unbearable for years."

Harvey, motionless, felt his chest tighten at the weight of her words. Donna looked away, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then added, "It took me three years. Three years, Harvey. That's a long time to grieve."

"It was the time you needed," he replied softly, his voice free of judgment and full of understanding.

She gave him a sad smile but shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I couldn't fall in love again, even if I wanted to."

He tilted his head, his confusion evident. "Why not?"

She hesitated, searching for the right words that seemed stuck in her throat, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Because love… Is like playing the lottery. And the first time I played, the very first time…" Her voice broke, but she pressed on, her gaze locked on Harvey's. "I won the jackpot. Can you imagine? It was incredible. And then… And then, he was gone. Just like that." She snapped her fingers, the sharp sound echoing softly in the air. "And I feel like no matter how many times I try to play, I know I'll never win the jackpot again. Who wins two jackpots in one lifetime? It's insane."

Her voice faded into silence, leaving an emotional stillness between them. A single tear slid down her cheek, tracing a quiet path along her skin. Instinctively, Harvey reached out and wiped it away with his thumb, the gesture gentle and unhurried.

"Don't cry," he whispered, his voice low and tender, yet filled with an intensity that felt almost out of place. "You'll find a jackpot someday. But if I'm being honest…" He paused, his gaze holding hers, every word deliberately chosen. "The day you will find this guy, he'll be the one hitting the jackpot."

Donna stared at him for a moment, and unexpectedly, a light laugh escaped her lips. Tears still lingered in her eyes, but the smile she wore… Harvey found it breathtaking. Radiant. Captivating. Beautiful.

And yet, as he watched her, his own heart cracked. Because deep down, he knew he would never be the jackpot she was talking about.