- fires on the hillside -

The sudden banging on the door should come as a surprise, but since he’s been anticipating it since the moment the three of them walked into the apartment, all Mike can do is let out a long sigh.

Rachel pops her head out of the bedroom with a glare and a whispered yell, “You *called* him?!”

“Oh, hell no I didn’t call him! You think I’m stupid enough to do exactly what she told me not to do?”

She shoots a warning glance towards the entryway, “Do *not* let him in here.”

“Rachel, if I don’t open that door, he’s going to knock the damn thing off it’s hinges.” and, as if they can be heard through the walls, another round of aggressive knocking begins.

“Maybe if we just ignore it he’ll go away?” She suggests hopefully, until she hears a ‘I know you’re home. Open this goddamn door right now or I swear to god, I’ll knock the fucking thing down.’

Mike gives her an ‘I told you so’ look as she rolls her eyes. “Just...get him out of here. She specifically told us she didn’t want him to know.”

He nods, peering into the bedroom at his friend with worried eyes before kissing Rachel on the forehead and gently shutting the door.

The front door swings open just as his fist is raised to knock again. Anger and fear painted on his face as he pushes his way into the apartment.

“Harvey -“

“Dont ‘Harvey’ me. Where the hell is she?”

“She’s resting. Harvey, she doesn’t want -“

“Mike.” He says quietly, in a terrifyingly calm and low voice. “I got a phone call from the emergency room an *hour* ago. In the time it took me to get from the office to there, she was gone.

They told me she went home with friends. So, at the top of my list of questions, including, but not limited to, ‘why the fuck didn’t YOU call me’, I want to know where. she. is. And I want to know right the hell now.”

Mike sighs. Torn between keeping his word to one friend and calming the wild he sees in the other. “She’s with Rachel, she’s resting.”

His eyes shoot to the door and he’s there in two strides; hand on the knob, reaching to turn it, but it cracks open, Rachel’s face peeking out.

A gentle, “No, Harvey. Not right now.” is all he gets before she starts to push the door closed again, but he wedges his foot in, effectively stopping her.

“Rachel-“ he all but growls as she steps into the living room, closing the door behind her.

“Harvey Specter, I swear to god, I don’t give a damn if you’re my boss, if you raise your voice and wake her up, I will kick your ass myself.”

He raises his hands as a sign of surrender, but the frustration and worry are still etched clearly on his face. “I need to know what’s going on and I need to know *now*.”

“Harvey-“

“Mike, do you remember how panicked you felt when Rachel fainted at school and was taken to the hospital? Now imagine no one would tell you if she was okay.”

“Harvey, that’s different. Rachel’s my -“

“It’s not different. *She’s* different. Now, what the fuck happened?”

Mike looks at Rachel before running a tired hand down his face. “She was mugged.”

“She was what?” His face pales and he can feel the edges of his vision blurring as panic rises anew within him. “Is she hurt? Did they get the guy? Why the FUCK didn’t you call me?!”

“She is fine...mostly. A few bruises ribs and she scraped up her arm pretty good. She wouldn’t say where she was when it happened and she hasn’t really talked much since we got to her.”

“And again, I ask, why the *fuck* didn’t anyone call me?”

“She asked us not to.” the hurt and betrayal that flashes across his face is obvious and Rachel lays a gentle hand on his arm.

“She said you were out with Paula for your anniversary and she didn’t want to bother you with this.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“We were respecting her wishes, Harvey.”

“I don’t give a damn what you were doing. I don’t care if she broke a goddamn nail, you call me. Every time.”

“Okay, Harvey. Okay. Next time -“

Harvey glares at him and he rushes to amend his statement.

“-not that there will be a next time, but we will call. Okay? Now go home, I’ll have her call you tomorrow.”

“I’m not going anywhere til I see her with my own eyes.”

“Harvey.”

“Mike, unless you plan on dragging me through that door or throwing me through the damn window, give it up, I’m not leaving.”

“Mike.” Rachel warns. She hates seeing Harvey upset, but her first priority is Donna.

“Rach, maybe we should let him in there. She won’t talk to us, if she’s not sleeping she’s crying and it doesn’t seem like her to be that upset unless something else happened.”

She hears Harvey’s sharp pull of air at the mention of Donna crying, and that’s what breaks her.

“If you so much as look at her the wrong way I’ll kick you out. Deal?”

“Deal.” And Harvey can’t help but admire the brunette’s fierce protectiveness.

He reaches the door in two strides, takes a deep breath and slips in; locking it behind him.

She’s laying on her side facing away from him, a crumbled mess of red hair and a cream sweater, one arm draped tightly around her middle.

He doesn’t want to startle her, knowing too well from years of boxing that any movement is hell with bruised ribs, so he pads over to the other side of the bed, dropping to his knees to her level.

Her eyes are closed, but he can tell she’s awake, a soft quiver to her chin. He reaches out hesistantly to swipe the hair from her eyes.

“That goddamn puppy can’t keep his mouth shut.” She breathes out on a sob, eyes screwed shut even as a tear slips out.

“That goddamn puppy almost got his ass beat because he *did* keep his mouth shut. The hospital called. I’m your emergency contact.”
he replies, gently running the pad of his thumb along a light purple bruise forming on her jaw. “Donna. Why didn’t you call me?”

Her eyes open then; golden pools swimming in tears. “You were with Paula.”

“Donna. You’re more impor-“ and he stops himself. Typical, she thinks. Just another untold story between them. “You’re more important than a dinner. You know I would’ve been there.”

“I know, Harvey. But it’s not your job to come to my rescue, especially not when you’re on an anniversary dinner. Which, speaking of, you need to go, Paula’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Not my job?! Donna you’re my...” friend is inadequate but any other word seems too much like *something*. “You’re Donna. I’m Harvey. If we don’t save each other, then who does?” he tries for a bit of levity, but she’s not having it.

“You need to go, Harvey.” She insists again, defiantly trying to sit up with a hiss. His arms immediately go to still her.

“Donna, lay down. You don’t have to be superwoman all the goddamn time. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He toes off his shoes and settles on the other side of the bed, paying no mind to the exasperated eye roll she gives him.

“I’m sure Mike and Rachel told you already. I was mugged. Asshole took my favorite Hermès bag, knocked me on the ground, kicked me a couple of times and ran off.”

He lets out a ragged sigh, angry tears filling his eyes as he looks around the room, like he’ll find the words he’s looking for sitting on a shelf. Her coat draped over the chair in the corner catches his eye.

“Where were you?”

“What?”

“When you were...attacked.” the word and mental image making his stomach turn. “Where were you?”

“What does that matter?” she’s asks. And if she was standoffish before, she’s down right prickly now, her body tensing even as she grimaces through the discomfort it causes.

“Well, Donna. If they haven’t caught the guy, we need to know where you were to narrow down the search. Maybe he dumped your purse or attacked someone else or-”

“Harvey, I’m really not in the mood to be interrogated right now. I was on my way home.” She huffs, eyes closing as her good arm wraps tightly around her torso, effectively shutting herself off from him.

“From where?” He presses.

“For fuck’s sake, Harvey. I was on my way home from work.”

“You’re lying.”

Her eyes shoot open to glare daggers at him. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, why you’re mad at me and why you won’t tell me what happened, but I damn well know when I’m being lied to, Donna.”

She wants to let him in. Wants to erase the hurt in his eyes she knows she put there with her lies and refusal to let him in, but the lines she’s always had drawn between them have turned into walls that climb higher with every attempt he makes to scale them.

“I’m not mad at you, Harvey, and I’m sorry if it seems that I am. But I’m tired and sore and embarrassed and I just want you to go back to Paula and leave me alone.” Her voice is cold, withdrawn and he’s not sure he’s ever seen her so intentionally distant.

“Paula has nothing to do with this and-“ she scoffs, and that confuses him, but he tucks it away for another time and presses on. “I told you, I’m not leaving. I know you weren’t leaving work because that’s your pink coat on the chair that I got you for Christmas one year and -”

“The pink coat ~I~ got me for Christmas one year.” she corrects haughtily.

“-AND” he continues with an eye roll at her attitude. “You never wear it to work because ‘fashion that forward is only meant to be seen where it’s appreciated’ so you must’ve changed after work.”

“Good work, Sherlock.” she mumbles, hating the way he chooses these vulnerable moments to remind her how much he really knows her.

“Donna. Come on. You have always been able to talk to me. I need you to talk to me.”

She deflates. He’s so earnest and hurt and trying so hard to tamp down the temper she knows is boiling just below the surface. “I was leaving The Carlyle, okay?”

“Okay.” he draws out slowly, trying to solve the puzzle with missing pieces. “Why...what were you doing there?”

“I was...seeing a friend.”

His eyes search hers, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

“It was Mark, okay? I went to see Mark.”

The name rings a distant bell, but it takes him a second to connect the dots.

“Mark...Meadows? Your ex?” he does his best to ignore the gnawing at his heart that feels a lot like jealousy. He has no right, especially now that he’s with Paula, but Donna’s always felt a lot like his and he forgets...

“Yes. He was in town, we had lunch, he asked me to meet him tonight.”

“Okay. So you met him at his hotel and then...” he really doesn’t want her to fill in the details for him, but he’s still not understanding why she’s so upset or why Mark wasn’t there to help her. Unless...

“Donna.” He starts slowly, voice low and teetering on the edge. “Did he - did Mark hurt you?”

“What?! God, no! Harvey, no.” he watches her, reading her for any signs of a lie. She grabs his hand that’s all but shaking between them. “Harvey, I swear. He doesn’t even know.”

He sighs, squeezing her hand gently. “Then I don’t get it, Donna. I get that you’re upset about being mugged, and believe me, that mother fucker is going to pay, but why would you lie about where you were?”

“Because he’s married, okay?!” she yanks her hand away, once again wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from it, the hot, angry tears she’s been holding back unleashed as she takes in the shock on his face.

“Mark is married, I knew that and I went to meet him anyways. I’m ashamed, okay? I’m ashamed and I didn’t want you to know because I know what you’ll think of me now and I just...I didn’t want you to see me that way. I didn’t go through with it, I couldn’t, but still...I knew.”

“Donna.”

“Don’t, Harvey. Okay? Just...don’t. I already know what you’re going to say.”

“No, you don’t.” He argues gently.

“Yes, I do. You’re going to tell me how stupid and irresponsible and selfish it was. How I ruined his family and that I’m a terrible person.”

“Donna, you know I have never and would never think you’re a terrible person. You’re the best person I know. You can be mad all you want, but don’t put words in my mouth.”

She deflates at his tone, firm but kind, brimming with hurt at her accusation, “I made a mistake, Harvey.”

“Donna,” he sighs, not sure where to start or what he’s supposed to - ~allowed~ to - say. “You didn’t do anything, right? So you had a brief lapse in judgement. Happens to the best of us, even the mighty Donna Paulsen.”

“I’m just so mortified. And to add insult on top of injury, I get mugged as I’m leaving. That karma, she’s a bitch.” she attempts levity through her tears, but it falls flat.

“Why’d you do it?” And there’s something about the calm and understanding tone of his voice that irritates her. It’s not that she *wants* him to be jealous, not really, she just thought it would matter to him more than it does.

“Because I’m tire of being alone, Harvey. I’m tired of feeling alone. I just...even though it was wrong, Mark made me feel wanted and seen. He didn’t need me to schedule meetings or make copies. He wasn’t using me to pass the time as he tried to get away with murder...”

He just wanted me. And it’s been so long since I’ve felt that way; wanted and seen and desired.”

He watches her, hands twitching as he watches tears splash down her cheeks as she talks, equal parts wistful and heartbroken.

“Everyone has someone, you know? Mike and Rachel have each other, Louis has Sheila, you have...” she can’t say it. And she knows how telling it is that she can’t but she just doesn’t have the energy to social fake through this one.

“And I’m just...here. Stuck. I thought my new position would fill this emptiness, but it doesn’t. I just get to sit in a nicer office while I think about everything I’m missing.”

“Donna, this isn’t like you, to doubt who you are and how amazing you are. How important you are to all of us.”

“Yes, I’m important to all of you at work. But then Mike and Rachel go home and Louis does god knows what with Sheila and you go to anniversary dinners at Carbone.”

“Yeah, but - how did you know about dinner?” He asks, fairly certain that was not a topic he brought up with her. Deep down, he knows it probably says something that he’s so hesitant to mention Paula around Donna;

knows it’s not normal to wince when saying your girlfriend’s name around your former secretary, but all the same he’s tried to keep those two facets of his life separated.

“She came by your office to leave your gift and I walked by. I suggested Carbone but she’d already made reservations and - it doesn’t matter. The point is, everyone has someone but me, and, I hate it, but I felt desperate for that connection, even though I knew it was wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, because what else can he say that won’t make this situation anymore painful and confusing than it is. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t call me, Donna.”

“Because you’re not mine to call, Harvey.”

“Donna.” he says on a breath, unsure what to say to make her feel better and to bridge the ever widening chasm he feels splitting between them.

His brow furrows, eyes low and wide with sorrow and it reminds her so much of the moment she he told her to take the money for The Donna and her walls immediately resurrect.

“Don’t.” She says sharply. “I don’t want your pity, Harvey. You asked what happened, I told you. Now go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You really want me to leave?” He asks, failing to hide the hurt he feels at her sudden dismissal.

Tears start to form again as she looks up at him and gives him a small nod. “Yeah, Harvey, I think it’d be best if you did.”

He nods, unable to deny her anything despite the way he can feel his whole body screaming at him to stay. “Okay, Donna, I’ll go.” he hesitates for a moment, giving into the overwhelming urge to plant a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “Get some rest.”

He has to clench his jaw and turn his eyes from her to resist climbing back into the bed and taking her into his arms when he hears a sob escape her.

He almost makes it to the door when he hears her voice, smaller than he’s ever heard it, call his name.

“Yeah?” and he doesn’t turn around, can’t turn around, because if he does he’s positive he won’t leave her.

“I’m sorry.” she whispers.

He turns then, golden orbs taking him in from across the room. “Donna. You have *nothing* to be sorry for.”

His tone is firm and she gives him a gentle nod before he nods back with a small smile and walks out, closing the door gently behind him.

He lean his head against the door, eyes closed, heart hammering a mile a minute when he hears -

“Well?” And his eyes pop open to see Mike, ever the puppy, standing in front of him; eyes wide with concern and expectation.

“Well what?” He gruffs, pushing off the door and heading to the entry way.

“What happened? Where was she? Is she okay?”

“She’s...” and really, what can he say. She’s not fine. She’s hurt, physically and emotionally and at least part of that is his fault.

“She’s gonna need time. Rachel, I don’t care if you have to lock her in there, she is not to come back to the office until Monday at the earliest.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Harvey.”

He nods his thanks at the brunette, pats Mike on the shoulder and makes his way out.

As he climbs into the back of Ray’s car, shoulders heavy, eyes filling with tears he doesn’t bother to fight - he wonders how he managed to fuck up the best, most constant thing in his life in such a spectacular fashion.

—-
He spends all weekend in a fitful, restless funk. He picks up his phone every ten minutes to call or text her, eventually settling for calling Rachel. She tells him Donna’s up and moving, still closed off, but managed to tell Rachel the whole story over a glass of wine.

He works up the courage once to talk to her - because he knows just hearing her voice would do wonders to calm him - but his request is met with a gentle, “Just give her time, Harvey.” and he’s not brave enough to face that rejection again.

He breaks it off with Paula and the lack of surprise in her response tells him all he needs to know. They part on civil terms, a whispered “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Harvey” as she squeezes his arm on his way out.

By the time Monday afternoon rolls around, he’s worn a hole in the carpet of his office, not having seen any sign of her all day. He’s finally managed to sit himself down at his desk, feigning productivity when a flash of red catches his unfocused eyes.

She’s around the corner before he can get a good look at her, but just knowing she’s near centers and knocks him completely off balance all at the same time.

He waits another half hour to see if she’ll venture to the other side of the wall, into his office, but there’s no movement. He picks up and puts down his office phone - not that he knows how to connect extensions, really - at least a dozen times.

He bounces his knee and fiddles with his pen until he can’t stand it anymore, pushing his chair back with such force it bangs against the window ledge.

He marches into her office, thinking of what he’ll say the whole fifteen steps it takes to get from one office to the other, but when he gets to her, he’s loses all ability to speak.

She’s there, and the relief is so damn palpable that he audibly exhales. She’s standing at her desk, eyeing him with a wide gaze, a soft ribbon of forgiveness and understanding weaving its way through the small smile she gives him.

His mouth gapes open several times with no success, before he’s taking the last three steps into her space, clutching her face gently between his hands and kissing her.

He feels more than hears her quick gasp of surprise before she melts into him, mouth moving softly under his as her hands clutch tightly to the lapels of his suit jacket.

His lungs demand he take a breath, drawing back for a full pull of air and it feels like it’s the first time. His thumb glides across her cheek bone, the bruise that was there is now faint, but still mottled and it only serves to remind him of how close he came to losing her.

confusion painting her face.

“Harvey. Wha-“

He cuts her off with another kiss; this one simple, quick, like they’ve been doing it all of their lives.

“I want to be the only person you ever need to call. Deal?”

Her small smile has blossomed into a full grin, her eyes shining as she nods and seals it with a kiss of her own.

“Deal.”

-fin-