A/N: Given Harvey's background story, this fic should come with a trigger warning for death in childbirth. I will mention other trigger warnings as I see fit as the story progresses, but overall it won't be too dark or angsty.

Donna's Daycare

Three years.

Three long years Harvey has spent in this echoing mausoleum of a house, surrounded by the ghosts of laughter and the lingering scent of jasmine that clings to nearly every piece of furniture.

He has battled the inertia, the crippling weight of grief that threatened to pull him under until the house seemed to sigh in defeat as well. Signing the final paperwork felt like tearing off a bandage, raw and painful, each scrawl a nail hammered into the coffin of his past.

Nine months.

Nine months he watched his wife carry their baby, her belly growing so big that he wondered how she managed to haul it around day after day. Her face had the radiant glow of expectant motherhood, warming and softening the honey brown of her skin, and he swore he'd never seen her look more beautiful.

Her pregnancy was uncomplicated except for a few elevated blood pressures in the last few days before she went into labor, and he did everything he could to make it as easy as possible for her, anyway. But when it was time to welcome their baby girl into the world, everything changed in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly it was like they were being punished for having a perfect life, a perfect pregnancy. He felt himself detach, watching as the room erupted in controlled chaos. He thought his wife's shortness of breath was normal, a side effect of going through the throes of delivery.

Before he even realized the severity of the situation, she went into cardiac arrest, doctors trying rather helplessly to stop the excessive bleeding. The frantic beeps of the monitor turned into a long, flat line, the final punctuation mark on a rare disorder called amniotic fluid embolism.

He squeezed her hand so hard that his wedding ring cut into her fingers, willing life back into her, but it lay limp in his grasp. He choked out, feeling his nose running, but didn't care enough to wipe it. Tears and snot dripped down his face as he was overcome with emotion.

He barely registered his surroundings, but when the doctor carefully placed the baby in his arms, a wave of love washed over him, so fierce and unexpected it stole his breath. He cradled her close, her tiny fingers curling instinctively around his. And so, in the fragile warmth of his newborn daughter, he found a sliver of hope.

Life quickly became a mess of dirty diapers, the milky scent of spilled formula on his dress shirt, and an ever-present mountain of laundry threatening to drown him. Sleep was measured in stolen moments, and when exhaustion gnawed at his bone, he concentrated on holding the fatigue in his mind, didn't dare let it seep into his leg muscles.

He started having panic attacks when his daughter was only a few weeks old. Then one day he collapsed at the grocery store. That alerted his sister-in-law, who came to live with him, helped him out. She watched his daughter, so he could go back to the work he missed so much, if only for a few hours a week, and meet some grown-ups.

His heart broke a little when he found out she wanted to turn down a job that would've skyrocketed her career because she didn't want to leave Eden and him high and dry. That's when he realized he was running away from commitment; that by hurtling through the forest like a frightened squirrel, he was escaping a reality he didn't want to face.

He couldn't allow his sister-in-law to put her life on hold for them anymore. It was time to man up and take full responsibility for raising Eden as a single father. He was scared, yes, but the city, his old stomping ground, would make him feel more safe and secure in his endeavor than this house did. Besides, he was fucking tired of commuting.

Only a week.

A week until the movers arrived, the final act in this drawn-out play of letting go. As he watched them transform the once-vibrant home into a sterile shell, a phantom pain squeezed his heart, mocking him. This was it. She was really gone, and he would have to make a new life for himself and his daughter.

On the day he leaves, driving off in his '67 Mustang, he sees himself reflected in the rearview mirror, a haunted figure standing in the driveway. It feels as if he's leaving behind a part of him. A part that will forever be stuck in the past, fate tied to that of his deceased wife.

Harvey glances over at the little girl, looking impossibly tiny strapped into the oversized car seat next to him. A bittersweet smile tugs at his lips as he reaches out to her, his hand hovering over the mop of light curls.

At three years old, Eden is all elbows and knees, a whirlwind of energy barely contained by the oversized butterfly clips in her hair. And every laugh, every wrinkle of her brow, reminds him so much of her mother, Zoe.

Her sister spent most of the time working from home, so she could be there for his daughter. And when Eden wasn't with her, she was with his in-laws, neighbors, people he knew. He has no idea how he'll even manage to let a stranger take care of his baby girl.

He still feels apprehensive about the in-home daycare Mike recommended. Worries about the lack of formal structure, because if there's anything his daughter needs right now, it's a stable environment. But he trusts his friend's judgment. If it's not the right fit, he'll find another solution.

At least he found the perfect apartment for them. Walls of glass allow breathtaking views of the Upper East Side, while the interior boasts clean lines and a sleek aesthetic. The condo evokes the feel of a bachelor pad were it not for the pops of colors and a sprinkle of stuffed animals.

The open floor plan dissolves into a sun-drenched expanse that houses both living and dining areas.

Dominating the kitchen is a massive island, the cool of the statuary marble a stark contrast to the milled oak cabinets with their warm tones. What Harvey loves most, though, is the wine cooler, tucked discreetly beneath the counter to keep his favorite vintages at the perfect serving temperature.

In one corner of the living area, he created a space for Eden. A low bookshelf overflowing with brightly colored picture books promises endless adventures, while a cuddly menagerie of stuffed animals—including a particularly well-worn Tyrannosaurus Rex affectionately nicknamed Mr. Snuggles—sits patiently on the fluffy rainbow rug, ready for their next tea party.

His daughter's obsession with dinosaurs reignited his own childhood fascination with prehistoric creatures, so a lot of the time he spends reading dinosaur books with her at bedtime, or taking her to museums to see real fossils. A framed picture from their recent trip to the Natural History Museum hangs proudly in his office.

On the nightstand beside Eden's bed, low to the ground for easy access, there is a nightlight shaped like a dinosaur egg that glows softly. Across the bed, a whole scene is played out on the wall.

A velociraptor with a tiny saxophone strapped to its back, a compsognathus strumming a makeshift guitar, and a brachiosaurus playing a giant sousaphone that it holds close to its body. And then there's the T. rex, perched on the very edge of the piano bench, struggling but determined to reach the keys with its tiny forearms.

This is the first time Harvey sees the whimsical jazz orchestra complete in all its glory. He smiles, picturing his own father's mischievous grin as he imagines the influence behind his daughter's fantastical request. He doesn't know he is crying until he registers the dampness against his cheek. Startled, he gasps and reaches up, his finger brushing against the wet trail on his face.

"Daddy?"

Harvey looks down to see Eden gazing up at him, sadness etched into her features. A soft smile graces his lips as he sweeps her up in a hug, burying his face in her hair.

"I'm okay," he murmurs. He walks over to the reading nook and sits down on the small bean bag chair, cradling his daughter in his lap. "Listen, sweetheart, we gotta meet someone in an hour. Her name's Donna. Ms. Paulsen. She will take care of you while I'm at work." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "She's a friend of Uncle Mike and Aunt Rachel, and I heard she's really excited to meet you."

Eden looks up, her lips trembling as she asks, "Why we moved?"

"I told you," he sighs. "I need to be here in the city… for my job." He runs a hand over her head and brushes his lips against her temple. "And the people who took care of you after Mommy…"

"Went to the stars?"

"Yeah…" he breathes. "Well, those people, they have important things to take care of now. Their jobs. Family... And they don't have time to play with you anymore, so I found someone who does."

He considered getting a nanny, too. Someone who could support him if he ever had to work late. Someone who could help with the household. So far, he hasn't found the right person, which is why he decided to only take on half the workload he usually would—he fears that's still too much.

"Uncle Mike said she's really nice," Harvey assures her, noticing a slight change in her expression. Since their move was official, she's grown even more attached to him. "And you know what else he told me?"

Eden pricks up her ears.

"Ms. Donna has red hair!"

"I love red," she says excitedly.

"I know… It's your favorite color," he smiles. "So, does that mean it's okay if we go see her?"

The toddler nods.

"Then let's get something to eat before we leave."

•••

The address leads him to a charming brownstone nestled amongst towering oaks. Harvey sighs, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He spent the entire car ride battling a strange mix of apprehension and… curiosity. He, Harvey Specter, at a daycare interview? It feels ludicrous.

He unbuckles Eden from her car seat and picks her up, carrying her to the house. It's a riot of colors—a bright blue door with a yellow welcome mat, flower boxes overflowing with red geraniums, and on the porch railing, a hand-painted sign with a cheerful sun declaring it "Donna's Daycare."

Taking a deep breath, he straightens his tie and raises his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can make contact, revealing a sight that stops him cold.

Harvey's breath hitches as he sees her, sunlight playing on her cascading auburn hair, catching highlights that shimmer like spun copper. Her bright smile holds his gaze for a beat too long, crinkling the corners of warm hazel eyes that seem to see straight through him.

She wears a simple sundress, the kind that accentuates the curve of her hips and puts her voluptuous breasts on display. Her succulent lips are tinted with a dark shade of red lipstick, and for a moment, Harvey can only stare.

His daughter shifts in his arms, the sudden movement breaking the spell Harvey hasn't realized he is under. Shame washes over him, hot and unwelcome. He shouldn't be struck like a teenager at a school dance.

"You must be Mike's friend," Donna says, her voice a match for the rest of her, a thing of strident beauty. The sound, low and tender, syrupy sweet in tones he has definitely not heard before, wrapping around him as he breathes in her light floral fragrance.

Keeping a firm grasp on the child in his arms, he extends his right hand in greeting. "Harvey Specter."

Donna's hands are soft and gentle, her fingertips leaving imprints of warmth. The feeling of touching her skin is so wonderful that it makes him tremble silently from the bottom of his heart.

"And this…" he smiles as he looks at his daughter, who has buried her face in the crook of his neck, "… is Eden." Nuzzling her hair, he whispers, "You wanna say hi, baby?"

When she shakes her head, he chuckles softly and shoots Donna an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. With the move and everything… She's had a rough few days."

Donna smiles and takes a step forward, placing a hand on Eden's back. As she rubs it in a soothing circle, her fingers graze Harvey's arm, sending a shiver down his spine that raises the tiny hairs on his skin.

"You know what, Eden," she says softly. "Today's your lucky day." She pauses, and it seems like the sound of Donna's voice is enough to coax the little girl into turning her head. Much to Harvey's surprise.

"Why's that?" he asks, grinning slightly.

"Because it's the day you get to meet Donna," she chirps, eyes set on the child.

A beat passes, and then Harvey feels Eden relax in his arms. She slowly shifts her entire body and glances at the redhead standing before them, her curious eyes sweeping up to rest on Donna's face.

The tension visibly drains from Harvey's shoulders as he lets out a slow exhale. Thank God. He's been truly worried Eden wouldn't accept Donna, but the look of curiosity on his daughter's face as their eyes meet is the first hurdle cleared, a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that have been hanging over him.

A small smile plays on his lips as his gaze falls upon Donna. The smile she gives him in return makes something crack inside him. It is such an open smile, full of joy and promise. Things he hasn't felt in a very long time. And he thinks maybe he'll do just about anything to see her smile like that again.

"Well, why don't you two come in?"

"Thank you, Ms. Paulsen," he manages, his voice rougher than usual.

Her smile softens. "Call me Donna."

Stepping inside, the first thing Harvey notices is the size of the house. A wide hallway branches off to the left, a glimpse of a playroom filled with toys visible through the open doorway. At the end of the hallway is a colorful bulletin board plastered with children's artwork.

"This way, please," she says as she kicks a few building blocks to the side, making room for them to walk.

It's only then that Harvey realizes she's barefoot. The tough soles of her feet convince him she has spent most of her life without wearing foot coverings. A fact that wouldn't surprise him, considering Mike told him she's been doing this home-based job for more than a decade.

But he bets she makes an impressive figure in heels, too. He can picture it so clearly: Donna, all dolled up, her graceful feet slipped into a glorious pair of high-heeled shoes that add three inches to her five-foot-nine stature and complement her long legs, and makeup, with fancy jewelry that completes her look.

Harvey flinches slightly as she snaps him out of his trance. "I got some toys in my office that Eden can play with while we talk."

Donna's office is located just off the entryway, a separate space that conveys a sense of professionalism while still maintaining the inviting warmth of the home. On his way over, his eyes land on a lopsided crayon drawing stuck to the wall. He can't help but smile—this glamorous woman in a world of spilled juice boxes and finger paint.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line two of the four walls. Festooned with piles of kilim pillows, one extra-long sofa covered in buttery-soft leather stands in one corner, while a large desk, neatly organized with folders and papers, dominates the room's center. But the most striking feature is the massive picture window behind Donna's desk with a view of the backyard.

Harvey carefully sets Eden down on the floor, so she can play, and then takes a seat. Donna casually plops down next to him, as if they were old friends.

"You mind if I join you, Mr. Specter? The formality of me behind the desk and you over here just feels… well, a little stuffy for what we need to discuss. Makes it feel like a business deal, not a place where little ones are going to spend their days."

It's back again. That nervous flutter, a feeling he hasn't experienced in years, dances in his chest. It is ridiculous, of course, but there is something about her warmth, the way her eyes seem to hold a million unspoken stories, that makes his insides do a little schoolboy pirouette.

"It's fine," he says, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. "But please, call me Harvey."

"So… Harvey," she smirks, "Is there anything in particular I should know about Eden? Any routines, allergies, or...?"

"Do you want me to just—" he clears his throat, "—get it all out?"

"Yes, please," Donna groans. "Usually, I learn things the hard way, because my clients only tell me half the stuff about their kids that I should know beforehand. So, if you wanna tell me about every little quirk your daughter has, then I'd be so happy to listen."

The corner of Harvey's mouth quirk up in amusement as he says, "She's very particular about her breakfast. Wants her toast cut into perfect squares with the crusts removed, or she won't even touch it. She will only eat cereal if you pour the milk first and sprinkle the cereal on top."

He leans back, relaxing into the couch as a sense of comfort returns. "She loves all things fruit, from berries for breakfast to sliced apples as a snack. And she insists on having cheese with every meal. But just tell her she can have some tomorrow and she'll forget all about it."

Those words make Donna laugh, a laugh so musical of good nature that it is as pleasant to the heart as to the ear, drawing a smile from Harvey.

"She wants to do everything herself, even if she struggles," he continues. "She expresses emotions intensely, both happy and sad. Full of hugs and kisses one minute and tantrums the next. I tried to keep her from throwing stuff, but it only made things worse. I guess all you can do is talk to her gently and wait for it to be over." He sighs. "I don't know, really. I haven't figured that part out yet. Maybe you…"

"I'll see what I can do," Donna says, smiling.

"She doesn't have any imaginary friends—not that I know of—but she's got that plush dinosaur she likes to carry everywhere, Mr. Snuggles. She's a real explorer, always on the go. Sometimes when we go out, I have to resort to a little tracking device."

A soft giggle slips over her sweet lips. "You do what?"

"I lost her once. Almost twice." Harvey gives her a lopsided grin. "Just taking precautions, so it won't happen again."

"Precautions, huh?" Donna smirks, shaking her head in the common way that all women have when dealing with the silliness of men. "Would a leash work, too?"

He chortles, impulsively turning to press his lips against his sleeve. She's not just a pretty face, he thinks. Her humor is quick and funny. And she seems smart. God, she might just be the complete package deal.

Over the past three years, he has seldom experienced any emotion other than his own misery. But meeting this woman, the brutal slap of her existence… it makes him feel. Beyond the grief. Beyond heartache. Illogical, inexplicable. And something he will not allow.

Which brings him to the most important part…

Harvey hesitates, then takes a deep breath. "Eden doesn't talk much. I was told the reason for that could be trauma. Disrupted bonding or something?" He swallows back his emotions, closing his eyes for a moment to focus. "Her mother, she's… She left us. And I guess even though Eden was so young, it might've affected her behavior more than I thought."

As Harvey speaks, a variety of emotions flit across Donna's face. Surprise gives way to a profound well of empathy, her eyes widening slightly.

"I mean, it's not like she can't talk, she just doesn't want to," he sighs. "So, you might have to ask her a lot of questions. She will nod or… Sometimes, she gets impatient, like, if you're asking too much. Then she'll just grab your hand and show you what she's after."

Harvey doesn't see a hint of judgment in her expression, just a quiet understanding and a small, reassuring smile playing on her lips. A smile that is telling him he can trust her.

The idea of trusting a stranger with Eden, of handing over a part of his life, a part that feels so raw and exposed after Zoe's passing, still makes him nervous. But Donna's résumé has conjured an image, competent and professional, and after meeting her, his gut is telling him he made the correct decision by coming here.

Christ. A part of him is even hoping this place will become something more for Eden than a daycare. A home away from home. A place where she will be nurtured and loved.

"I promise you, Harvey, we'll get along just fine." Donna's voice sounds soft and soothing as she speaks. "And if there's nothing else you wanna share with me, then I'd like to show you around a little. Tell you a few things about how I run this place."

"I'd love that," he replies with a gentle smile.